#Keeper wisdom moment ?

[keeperthemultiversemom]

How are you doing today?

"My, I am doing rather fine lately ! A fair amount of beings and viewers have been in need of comfort that I am more than happy to provide, but otherwise it has been pretty calm in my domaine; for some reasons things seemed to have settled down... Although I did hear that the Archives have become busier lately. I am glad, to be honnest."

*Keeper pauses, thinking*

"I think things might be 'moving' soon. If my experience is anything to learn from, great periods of calm always end with something big happening."

[wxstros]

Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

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[kettlefire]

Time forgets most (DPxDC)

I've been getting too many brain worms that I need to clear out the cramp space that is my idea vault. In doing so, I'm just posting off-handed, random things I've typed up at work. (Partly so my drafts don't just end up like my vault). Without further ado, a much too too long post

°•°•°•°

The movement of time is a much too complex thing for many to understand. The knowledge that time was not perfectly linear. The past did not simply stay in the past. The future is not simply something to look forward to. The present is not simply a fleeting moment.

Time is a complex web. Every point in time, connected to another point in time. A never-ending mess of webs and connections. Things that are to be. Things that can be. Things that are being. Things that will never see the light of day in this universe.

Despite what some may want to believe, Time has no master. Time does not yield to any singular being. That did not mean that Time didn't need a helping hand. A guiding hand to help keep the chaos of time to something just a little more... fluid.

The being came to exist well before the universe had. The being was festered, taught, and nurtured in a small pocket dimension. A small space just like an incubator.

Until the world blossomed around it. Life started to grow. Time kept moving. Living organisms found untimely deaths. Evolved, learned, and grew into the new space around it.

When the first little creature crawled out of the water, Time's keeper was let free. A bumbling little thing, breaming with life and curiosity.

Just like everything else in the world, this keeper wasn't safe from time. It still moved. Brought forth problems and adventures.

As time continued to tick. Moving in every direction, the keeper continued to age. Unlike the rest of the universe, the keeper didn't age the same as others.

Some days, he was nothing but a small boy, frolicking in a field of flowers and bees. Other days, he was a strong middle-aged man. Pulling the strings in just the right way, pushing for a timeline that felt right.

On days that have been happening much more often. He was but a crippled old man, hunched over his staff, and dropping much needed wisdom on the young lives around him.

Being the keeper of time wasn't an easy feat. Being completely out of time, experiencing things in broken order. There was only a clear start, and a jumble of things that followed.

The keeper was content with his life. Watching over the world as it grew and blossomed. He was content with his special kind of solitude.

That was until he saw the boy. In the webs of moments, the keeper's gaze had found him. A boy much too young, suddenly with powers much too great thrusted upon him.

The keeper watched the scenes play out. The tears, laughter, humiliation, triumph, and pain. He watched as the boy's family was ripped from him. Watched the twisted attempt at fixing his life, only for it to go horribly wrong.

He watched the bloodshed and chaos that erupted. The lives ripped apart and destroyed. Not a single sign of life left behind.

Then he watched as the boy, no, not a boy anymore. The keeper watched as the monster tore through the fabric of time. Ripped its way through the thin veils that divided the universes.

Universes that had never known the boy's existence were torn to shreds to. A flight driven with pain and anger.

Despite the keeper having seen the boy turn into such a monster. He could see it in the beast's eyes. The deep-seated need for a family, a life. To be loved.

Something about the boy's life, his story, spoke to the keeper. He found himself reaching out into the web of lives and moments. Finding the moment when things went the most wrong for the boy.

Just like that, the keeper had inserted himself into a life. He pulled the boy out of the cruel stream of time. Filled the boy with the knowledge he needed. Let the boy see just what could happen if he let it.

The keeper of time was soon a simple mentor. A simple deity looking out for the world. Taking on the mantel of Clockwork and finding a new purpose for his life.

A young boy's life has been flipped upside down two times now. And there were certainly more to come. This time, the boy wasn't alone. He had a guiding hand, and a communtiy behind him.

The keeper, no, Clockwork watched with a strange pride and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. The boy was quickly surrounded by a family that helped him navigate his new powers.

Clockwork, alongside many of the other ghostly beings, watched on with pride as the young boy grew into a strong young man. Mastering powers, taking a stand, and making their home safe.

Despite the best efforts, time always beings problems.

It was one thing for Clockwork. He was the keeper of time. His life has reason to exist as long as time exists. Which will always be. His purpose was infinite.

But this boy... Danny wasn't like Clockwork. He was still partially human and terrified of losing his humanity. Danny's story had to come to an end, it's how time works.

Except, Danny wasn't in the timeline anymore. Clockwork had ensured that, pulled Danny into a separate timeline. An unaccounted for timeline.

He couldn't live here forever, not the way that Clockwork could. Danny needs a life, a family, a place, a purpose. He was still human.

It took more effort than Clockwork would have liked. He had to cash in favors from other deities that he hadn't spoken to in centuries.

It took a combined effort of everyone who cared for the little halfa. The strange boy that teeter on the line between life and death. The boy who had freed the Zone from a tyrant. Who wanted nothing more than for everyone to live a happy and filled life/afterlife.

Getting the magic and spells right was the hard part. But finding the location was easy. A beautiful planet just on the edge of the Milky Way. Unlikely to be disturbed or hurt.

The planet was undiscovered, primative even. Far enough from humans that Clockwork was certain Danny wouldn't be bothered. Only one species lived on that planet. Along the jungle like fauna, and in the water.

Cute little guys, barely bigger than two feet long and one foot tall. There was no name, no knowledge about them. Aside from Clockwork analyzing their way of life.

A simple cycle. They were born, they aged, they played, fed, mated, and then died. A simple but content life.

The aliens weren't unsettling. At least not to anyone who has seen more creatures than what Earth has to offer. It is a strange combination between frog, fish, and squid.

Scurrying around on two legs and four tentacles. A small frog-like face with eyes that seemed to take up half that space. Colors vary from blues to greens to the same sandy brown found at the bottom of the lakes.

Before long, the planet had its own protector. A young boy who once was lost and alone seemed to meld perfectly with these aliens.

Clockwork was always sure of himself. He never let anyone see otherwise. Except, Clockwork hadn't been sure. Not when he had performed the ritual.

As he molded and changed Danny's DNA until the man was a new being entirely. To anyone who didn't know the full story, the boy could easily look related to the aliens.

Gills now painted the sides of his neck, not necessary, but Clockwork felt like it had been. Webbed hands and feet to make transversing the underwater caves even easier. An ethereal, almost siren-like touch to Danny.

It worked out perfectly. Danny settled in easily. Building a routine and bound with the aliens. It hadn't been hard for the little creature to take a liking to him.

Before long, it was routine. Danny would spend most of his time on the planet, watching over his new wards. On some days, he'd portal back to the zone. Spend time with the ghosts and deities that saved his life. To check in on the new govermental system that had been put in place.

It was perfect. Simple and nice. Everyone got complacent. The longer time went on without a hiccup or a problem. The longer Danny was able to rest in his odd solitude. The more people got comfortable.

The more they forgot that time was as cruel as it was forgiving.

It had been just another day cycle. Danny was playing with the most recent litter birth. The first time he had seen the birth, he was more disgusted than anything else.

After the third time, Danny had started getting excited. He looked forward to it. Loved seeing the aliens flourish and grow. Watching them thrive and find more fun in the things Danny creates. Every new fun game or obstacle was always made with the things natural to the planet. Or debris that was caught in its gravitational pull.

Danny was playing with Plop. The little guy got his name, and he always plopped out of the water. Unlike the other aliens, this one didn't crawl out. No, he'd pull himself out of the water with his tentacles, only to plop down on the ground.

Of course, Plop had also been the first alien to approach Danny when he arrived. It's how they formed such a strong bond.

Everything had seemed perfectly fine. The day was rolling along just like it always did. That was until a small group of the more elder aliens suddenly came scurrying into their main cave.

They hadn't waited a second before diving into the water. Danny watched, confused and concerned, as each one of them grabbed one of the young. Before shooting straight into the underwater cave system.

The once bustling and living cave was suddenly eerily quiet and void of any aliens. Leaving behind only the confused Danny in the pool.

At least that's what a certain Green Lantern saw when he followed the trail of retreating aliens.

This planet had been categorized to have no signs of intelligent life. It seemed to have the option to nurture life, but there had been no signs.

When Hal Jordan got word of a seeming spike of activity from the supposedly empty planet, he had added it to his rooster.

A quick peek, just a look into what kind of life might be starting to grow there. The little aliens he had seen were adorable, sure. But they didn't seem all that evolved. Still in their evolutionary journey.

That was until Hal saw him.

Now, Hal was no stranger to running into ethereal beauty. It's what happens when someone interacts with aliens on a basic daily. That was something he was used to.

Except, all his breath seemed to be knocked out of him completely. The cave alone was stunning, a stark contrast from the almost barren surface he had first seen.

A deep, shimmering blue pool that vanished into the rocky space around it. Trees, bushes, and flowers decorate the area. It looked almost too good to be true. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Then there was the being that caught all of Hal's attention. Bright blue eyes that looked like gems, pale blue-tinged skin. Long black and white hair seemed to look almost like the night sky. A deep abyss littered with stars.

The closest thing that Hal's brain supplied was a siren. A beautiful, ethereal creature that lured men to their deaths. As beautiful as it seemed, Hal knew there could easily be danger.

Except, the creature didn't attack or threaten him.

Instead, he seemed almost shy. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, sharp deadly teeth flashing in the light with each motion.

Hal had just opened his mouth, taken a hesitant step forward. He wanted to know, and he needed to know how this happened. There wasn't supposed to be an intelligent, sophisticated life on this planet.

The moment Hal's lips parted, the creature let out a trill. A sound that seemed more scared than aggressive. Before suddenly, the beautiful creature vanished into the pool.

Hal moved before he could think, rushing to the edge of the pool. He peered into the crystal clear water, just in time to take the webbed feet of the creature vanish into a tunnel.

Now that left Hal with two options. He could either report this and wait for backup...

Or...

Or...

He could jump inside. The ring would protect him, and his lungs would be fine. Perks of being a Green Lantern.

That option seemed much more tempting to Hal. Nothing about this scream an outright threat. He felt more like a strange imposing on someone's home. A home that was meant for safety and protection of the young.

Yet, the shimmering water seemed to be calling to Hal. Something in him was trying to push him to get inside. To find the beautiful creature and learn more. Learn how this happened.

Without realizing it, Hal Jordan sealed his fate the moment he dipped a finger into the cool pool. Rippling the steady surface just slightly.

Just enough to get him wrapped up in the strange web created by time and its keeper.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.10 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, Blood, Suggestive themes but nothing explicit yet.

See masterlist

She was falling, and there was only darkness around her. The sensation of weightlessness gripped her stomach as the air rushed past her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Panic surged through her veins like a cold river, but she fought against it, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

Just as she felt herself descending endlessly into the abyss, a faint glimmer of light appeared far below. It beckoned to her like a distant star in the night sky, offering a glimpse of hope amidst the darkness. Instinctively, she began to reach out, desperate to grasp onto anything that could anchor her.

As she neared the light, its warmth enveloped her, dispelling the shadows that had threatened to consume her. She landed softly on solid ground, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the fall. Looking around, she realized she was in a vast, ethereal forest, where the trees shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it a sense of tranquility that eased her troubled mind. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh, crisp air of this mysterious place. Despite the initial fear of falling, she now felt a strange sense of peace settling over her.

In the distance, a figure emerged from behind a tree, moving gracefully towards her. It was Elara whom y/n had met once before in an illusion. Elara's eyes glowed with ancient knowledge, and her presence exuded a quiet strength that commanded respect.

"Welcome," Elara's voice was soft yet resonant, echoing through the forest. "You have arrived at the threshold between worlds. This place exists beyond time and space, where the threads of destiny intertwine."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the memory of their previous encounter flickering in her mind. Elara had been enigmatic then, offering cryptic guidance that had puzzled her. But now, facing her again in this ethereal realm, y/n sensed a deeper understanding stirring within her.

"Who...who are you really?" y/n finally managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elara's smile was serene, her gaze unwavering. "I am Elara, keeper of secrets and guide to those who seek truth. You have been chosen to walk this path, where illusions and reality converge."

"But....I thought you were an Ironteeth Witch."

"That, I am. But I am also much more than just my blue blood. I have a gift. I am a chosen one, just like you."

Y/n felt a surge of curiosity mixed with apprehension. "Why am I here?"

Elara's expression grew solemn. "You carry a burden that spans worlds, y/n. The gates are weakening, and darkness stirs in the depths. You hold the key to restoring balance, but first, you must awaken to your true purpose."

"And what is my purpose? My true power? I need answers and I am running out of time, Elara."

Elara regarded y/n with a steady gaze, her eyes reflecting the weight of centuries of knowledge and wisdom. She spoke slowly, her voice carrying a mystical resonance that seemed to echo in the chamber.

"Your purpose, young one, is intertwined with the very fabric of existence itself. The gates between worlds, ancient and powerful conduits, are in flux. They respond to your essence, your unique connection to the Book of Breathings. It is through this connection that you hold the key to their stability."

She paused, as if gathering her thoughts before continuing.

"To close the gates, you must understand their nature. The Book of Breathings, entrusted to you, contains the knowledge needed to recalibrate their energies. As for returning home, it is tied to your mastery over these gates. With each gate closed, the threads that bind you to this world and others will align, guiding you back to where you belong. Your journey will test your resolve, but trust in your abilities and those who stand beside you."

She placed a hand gently on y/n's shoulder.

"Remember, your power lies not just in spells or artifacts, but in your heart's conviction and the bonds you forge. Embrace your destiny with courage, for in doing so, you will shape the fate of worlds."

Y/n cast her a questioning look. "What about the Valgs? Does the Book of Breathings contain a text telling how to end them forever?"

"It does but so does another book. You do not need to get the Book of Breathings in order to find out how to end them."

Y/n's eyes widened "What?! Which book is it?! Tell me!"

But Elara just stepped back, expression softening slightly, showing a glimmer of compassion in her eyes.

"Be careful. You were lucky this time that you fell here instead of wherever the Valgs intended for you."

Y/n's mind raced with questions, but before she could speak, Elara raised a hand, silencing her with a gentle gesture.

"Listen," Elara said, her voice tinged with urgency. "Time is fluid here. The path ahead is fraught with challenges, but trust in your instincts and embrace the truths that unfold before you."

With those cryptic words, Elara began to fade, her form blending into the shimmering foliage of the forest. Y/n reached out instinctively, but her hand passed through empty air.

And then....

It was bright. Too bright, in fact.

She could hear some noises around her, but she couldn't open her eyes. Her senses were coming back but why did her body feel this heavy? Everything felt really fuzzy. It seems like she has no energy because she can't even move her finger.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and even though everything was a blur, y/n knew that she was in her own room-

Oh, so that's why it is eye-blindingly bright in this room. Couldn't they draw the drapes over the window?

She grunted slightly and tried moving her arm to cover her eyes when a pair of hands gently put her it back down.

She said in a broken voice, "Bright. Water."

"Eva, pull the drapes over the window. Elide, go pour some water from the pitcher."

Her vision was still unfocused, but she could see a curly haired figure sitting beside her, caressing her hair gently.

As the drapes were drawn, the harsh sunlight dimmed to a more tolerable glow in the room. Y/n blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision as Elide returned with a glass of water, which she held out to her.

"Here, drink slowly," Elide said, her voice calm and reassuring.

Y/n took the glass with trembling hands, bringing it to her lips and sipping cautiously. The cool water was a relief against her parched throat.

Her gaze started focusing better and she saw that it was Yrene who was sitting next to her bed.

The healer leaned closer as Eva asked slowly, concern evident in her voice, "How are you feeling?"

Y/n managed a weak smile. "Like a large boulder was thrown at me," she muttered hoarsely. "What happened?"

Eva looked at Elide who in turn, looked at Yrene, both expecting the healer to explain the situation to y/n.

Yrene sighed before looking at her with a softened gaze, "A servant attacked you during dinner. We all tried fighting her, seperating her from you but she was very strong. As strong as someone who is posessed by a Valg could be atleast. She was too fast, but in the end, Fenrys managed to land a blow to her back when she was busy attacking Rowan. Even though she tried, she failed to choke you completely."

Elide sat near her on the bed. "But she did leave some nasty marks which is why Isolde had to bandage you up."

Y/n nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice hoarse. She winced as she gingerly touched her injured arm, where the servant's claws had left angry marks. The pain was a sharp reminder of just how close the encounter had been.

"I tried to heal you but for some reason Isolde insisted on kicking us all out of the room and healing you herself."

Y/n smiled slightly, knowing the healer probably thought that she wouldn't want others to see her scars.

But, her gratitude soon turned into confusion. "What happened to the girl? Did she get away?"

Eva fluffed the pillows behind her and gently pushed y/n back down as she replied, "Oh don't worry, Aelin and the others are taking care of that as we speak. Yrene got the Valg out of her."

Before y/n could speak, he continued "Right after the attack, while Rowan, Aedion and Chaol managed to take her away with the help of other guards, Fenrys scooped you up in his arms and winnowed you to Isolde. He was livid! Absolutely crazy! Yrene left to help them the second Isolde kicked everyone out, Aelin and Manon followed after they were sure that you wouldn't die while Lysandra, Fenrys and I stood behind, with you."

"Fenrys stayed with me?"

Yrene nodded her head "Yes, he was acting like a madman. Even went as far as to threaten Isolde that if she failed to save you, he would personally kill the healer himself-"

"What?!"

"Yes, yes once we were sure that you were alive just unconscious, he calmed down slightly and ended up apologizing like a million times to her. Anyhow, for the past two days we have all just been looking over you. Fenrys literally lives at your doorway by now with the amount of times he stands or sits there while we look after you."

Fenrys visited her that often? The realization made a warm, comforting feeling make its way to her heart. A feeling she thought was dead after Azriel destroyed her.

Elide put her hand on y/n's stomach, caressing her gently as she said "He is either here or wherever they are keeping the servant, questioning her. Aelin says that the girl doesn't speak to anyone but Rowan so they are letting him do the questioning."

"And what does she say?"

Yrene just shook her head "She just began speaking this morning and everyone left the second Rowan called them. So, we stayed behind, making sure you were fine."

Y/n nodded her head, dizziness taking over her as she slowly let her eyes close.

When she opened her eyes once again, it was dark outside, dark everywhere and there was no one in the room-

No. There was someone.

She could feel eyes on her. His eyes. He was in the room with her, watching her from somewhere in the dark.

She could sense how Fenrys’ eyes roamed all over her, the intensity within them burning a hole through her. The tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

Heat began gathering all over her body, pooling in her lower belly. Well, if he is going to sit in the dark, watching her, she might as well give him a performance. She wouldn’t be the only one feeling this hot and bothered.

Y/n sat up and stretched her legs and arms out, arching her back. The tingly sensation of stretching out caused her to let out a satisfied moan, loud enough to be heard in this dark room. Loud enough for the scent of Fenrys’ arousal to reach her.

“Heard you had been by my side the whole time I was unconscious.”

She lit up the candle near her while Fenrys came into view as he took up a seat on the small couch near the window and looked at her with an intense gaze, his onyx eyes somehow seeming even darker. 

“Couldn’t have you dead in our world.”

“So, that is the reason?”

“What other reason would there be?”

“Your arousal tells a different story, Fen.”

"The girl said that she remembers nothing. We also found no collars, rings or bracelets on her which meant only one thing, the Valg have changed their game and are infesting others with a different way."

So he chose to ignore her comment. Very well, then.

She sighed "Well, maybe they do not need an object to invade someones mind anymore."

At his questioning gaze, she continued "Do you all have mental shields? Maybe yours are just too weak, allowing the Valg to enter as they please."

"What is that?"

What? He didn't know what a mental shield was?

Her eyes widened "Now I think I know why those parasites were able to destroy you all easily from within. In my world, Rhysand taught me and everyone else how to create mental walls, to protect our minds from any enemy. The Valgs wouldn't be able to enter my mind even if they tried because of how strong my walls are. Maybe I should teach you all so that none of you will be under any threat."

Fenrys nodded slightly, his gaze not wavering from her "That would be very useful....thank you."

Y/n didn't know why she smiled slightly while blushing but she did and she couldn't stop it.

"You look very beautiful with your hair down."

She turned her head back at Fenrys who was staring at her with genuine adoration.

"You have never seen me with my hair down?"

When she saw him shake his head slightly, she scoffed "Of course you have. When I first fell into your world, my hair was all over the place."

He chuckled quietly "Yes, but it was still tied. Never fully free. And since then you never let your hair loose in here."

She looked down at her lap, covered in the bedsheet "I tend to tie my hair in foreign environments where I don't feel safe. Even in Velaris, it took me some time to let my hair loose in front of the others. Guess it was that instinct all over again while I was here."

She heard him get up from his seat and slowly step closer as he asked, "Why?"

Well, she couldn't tell him why. She couldn't tell him that it was something she had been doing since she was old enough to understand. That when she still lived with him, he would beat her up if her hair was free and unbound. It always triggered something in him. And that was something she could never get rid of, not even long after his death.

So she simply said, "I don't know. Just something I always did."

Fenrys sat on her bed, right next to her and when she lifted her head to look at him, her breath caught in her throat because of how close they were. Their arms were so close that, if any of them even moved an inch, they would be touching.

He whispered while not taking his eyes away from hers, "You look beautiful. You always did, but now, you look even better."

She raised an eyebrow "So you openly admit to that?"

His expression remained serious "I never lie. Even if we may not like each other, I will never lie to you. You are very attractive."

Y/n was genuinely surprised at his bluntness and he clearly must have seen it on her face because he just smiled slightly and said, "I think that I enjoy seeing you shocked."

Y/n slightly leaned closer and heard how he sharply inhaled as she said with a smirk, "Well Lord Fenrys, you are very attractive as well."

She saw the lust slowly return to his gaze as her own body began heating up, goosebumps rising all over her skin at the look on his face.

She came even closer, her arm touching his, as she whispered "Do you remember the time in the training area where I told you that ladies must be blind if they choose to sleep with you? I lied. You are very....tempting."

What was wrong with her? What was she saying? This was wrong. So very wrong on so many different levels but did she care at that moment? No. Not even a single bit.

Maybe it was because of the lack of any sexual activity in her life recently, or maybe it was because she was still slightly dizzy and probably needed to eat something to get into a right state of mind but she did not care.

Fenrys just admitted that he found her beautiful. Why not reciprocate the feeling? Why not tease him....and hope for him to do something about it to her? It was in the dark of the night anyway. Come morning, and they would both act like this never happened. Just for tonight.

You said that same thing when you were in the forest of The Whispering Path with him. When you cuddled him to sleep.

But y/n chose to ignore that little sensible voice inside of her.

Fenrys' eyes darkened as he said in a low voice, "Don't start something you can't finish, little trouble."

"Promises, promises."

He fully pressed his arm to hers as he came so close, their lips were merely inches apart "You are injured and need rest. Wouldn't want your injuries to hurt more than they already do because believe me y/n, when I fuck, I do it like a wolf. Rough and wild. No lady was ever left unsatisfied with me."

And with that, he immediately got up but before he could leave, she said loud enough for him to hear, "I- I mean, we may not like one another but that doesn't erase the clear fact that for some reason, we both desire one another."

He did not look back as he reached the door, but she could hear the smirk on his face as Fenrys said, "Check your night stand before going to sleep again." and then, he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the room.

Y/n let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and turned her head to the nightstand on her left to see a bowl of soup, warm bread and a glass of water near it. Did Fenrys just bring her food before she woke up?

Her lust turned into gratitude as her stomach grumbled a noise that informed her of her impending hunger. With a small smile, y/n took the bowl of soup with the bread, and began eating while overthinking what just happened.

But, she couldn't sleep. The fact that she had three days of sleep was enough to make her get up from bed and carefully change her clothes-

Mother above....the injuries clearly were bad if the amount of bindings on her shoulders, collarbones and neck were any indicator. Her neck? Really? It just got healed and now it is ruined again.

But apart from all that happened between her and Fenrys right now, she also had a million other thoughts. But the main one was 'How do the Valgs know of her?'

This whole thing was getting worse by the minute and she really was getting fed up with it all. If she couldn't sleep, might as well go out and explore the area. Find some answers, if she is lucky. It is the middle of the night anyway, no one will notice her flying.

Y/n winced when she moved her shoulder to flap her wings, but ignored it nonetheless as she flapped them a few more times before shooting up into the sky from her balcony.

She soared through the night sky, the cool breeze whispering against her wings as she glided over the palace rooftops. Her wings beat rhythmically, carrying her effortlessly through the darkness.

The forests here were truly big, seeming to go on for eternity which made her doubt if there even was a city here. But, all that suspicion got washed away the second she flied over the last couple of trees because what came after it made her eyes widen in awe.

From above, the city sprawled like a patchwork quilt stitched together by narrow streets and sprawling rooftops. Y/n's wings carried her effortlessly over the labyrinthine alleys, each one illuminated by the soft glow of flickering lanterns and the occasional dim streetlight. The city's heartbeat echoed through the night—a distant symphony of murmurs, laughter, and the rhythmic bustle of evening commerce.

Clusters of buildings rose in haphazard clusters, their architecture a blend of ancient stone facades and more recent timber constructions. Below, winding roads snaked through the city like veins, occasionally giving way to hidden courtyards and market squares that were currently empty due to it being late.

As she glided higher, the city unfurled beneath her—a living, breathing organism with a pulse all its own. The river that wound through its heart shimmered silver under the moon's gentle gaze, bridges arching gracefully over its tranquil waters. Beyond the city's borders, rolling hills and dense forests stretched into the horizon, their outlines softened by the veil of night.

This place reminded her of Velaris except it was much more quieter. Not in a bad way, no. Velaris was the city of starlight so it made sense why the streets there were always bustling, shops and cafes, music and art, everything was always open, lights were everywhere, making that place look like a giant lamp. This place however, seems to be more active during the day rather than night time, its residents would go back to their homes, leaving the streets mostly empty while fireflies would light up the way, creating a comforting glow. Seems like the residents of Terrasen prefer calm and quiet over loud noises and fun.

As she ventured farther from the palace, her keen eyes caught a glimpse of movement below—a figure moving with an eerie swiftness along the deserted streets. Curiosity piqued, y/n angled her flight path downwards, silently descending towards the shadowy figure.

With practiced ease, she landed on the edge of a rooftop nearby, her wings folding neatly against her back. Peering over the ledge, she watched as the figure navigated through narrow alleys and hidden passages, clearly trying to avoid detection.

Just as she prepared to resume her pursuit, another shape emerged from the darkness—a man with a cloak drawn tightly around him, his posture alert and purposeful. 

As if he could feel her presence, the stranger lifted his head, their gazes colliding, and....she would recognize those gray eyes anywhere. It was that man, the messenger that appeared in her room when she first came here. Aelin said he was her messenger, what was his name again? Noah? No, but definitely something starting with N.

What was he doing here? Seems like he is also following this suspicious being. Whatever the case is, they both were after the same person, they could cooperate now, discuss later. Y/n gestured downwards, indicating the person she had been tracking. Nox nodded in understanding, silently joining her in the pursuit.

Together, they weaved through the night sky, maintaining a cautious distance from their target. Y/n's wings carried her effortlessly, allowing her to match the culprit's swift pace without alerting them to her presence.

As they followed the suspect deeper into the heart of the city, Y/n and Nox exchanged silent signals, coordinating their movements to avoid detection. They skirted rooftops and glided over bustling market squares, always keeping the suspicious person within sight.

The figure reached the outskirts where the city melded into the woods beyond. Without hesitation, she angled her wings and descended, aiming for a quiet landing on the outskirts of the city where the trees began to thicken and envelop the landscape.

The forest greeted her with a symphony of rustling leaves and distant nocturnal calls. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting ethereal patterns on the forest floor. Y/n moved swiftly and silently, her senses heightened as she navigated through the dense underbrush, careful not to disturb the nocturnal creatures that stirred at her passing.

Ahead, a flicker of movement caught her attention—a figure moving stealthily between the trees. Y/n approached cautiously, her heart pounding in anticipation. As she drew closer, she recognized it to be the messenger.

"It's you," Y/n said in a hushed voice, stepping out from behind a tree.

Nox turned sharply, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his dagger before he recognized her. He let out a breath before saying "What are you doing out here, y/n?"

She crossed her arms "Doing exactly what you are doing....?"

He saw her furrow her eyebrows, trying to remember his name and just smirked before giving her a mocking bow "Nox Owens, at your service, though, Aelin is the only one I serve."

She rolled her eyes playfully as his gaze took her fully in "Well, you are looking even more attractive than the last time I saw you, that's for sure."

"Um....thanks? You too?"

He let out a low chuckle at that "Very well y/n, I think we are both here for the same reason. We both think this person is Valg."

"How did you end up following them?"

He just smirked "A good spy never tells his secrets."

She raised an eyebrow "Spy? I thought you were a messenger."

He patted her shoulder before moving past her "A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Now, let's see where the weird suspect is going, yes?"

She sighed but decided to follow him. Two was better than one and its not like she could just go back to sleep after seeing this.

Y/n nodded, falling into step beside Nox as they quietly pursued the elusive figure through the dense forest. The canopy overhead filtered the moonlight into patches of silver on the forest floor, casting eerie shadows around them.

They moved with practiced stealth, their footsteps barely making a sound on the soft ground. Y/n kept her senses sharp, scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement or disturbance. Nox moved ahead slightly, his movements fluid and silent as he navigated through the underbrush.

Y/n and Nox pushed forward, their senses sharp and focused on tracking down the mysterious figure. The forest grew thicker as they pursued their quarry deeper into the night. Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting ghostly shadows that seemed to dance with every rustle of leaves.

They followed the faint sounds of movement, darting between trees and over fallen logs. Y/n's wings twitched with anticipation, ready to take flight if needed, while Nox moved with the quiet agility of someone who knew the woods well.

The figure they pursued seemed to be skilled at evasion, leaving behind only fleeting traces—a broken twig here, a disturbed patch of moss there. Each time they drew close, it slipped away into the darkness like a wisp of smoke.

After what felt like an eternity of pursuit, they found themselves at the edge of a steep ravine. Moonlight illuminated the chasm below, its depths shrouded in an impenetrable darkness. Y/n peered over the edge cautiously, scanning for any sign of movement.

Nox moved silently beside her, his gaze scanning the opposite side of the ravine. "They must have crossed here," he murmured, pointing to a narrow log that bridged the gap between the two sides.

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and frustration. "We can't lose them now," she said determinedly, preparing to cross the precarious bridge.

Just as she took a step forward, a low growl rumbled through the underbrush, causing both of them to freeze in their tracks.

Out from the dense foliage slithered a grotesque creature, its form a nightmarish amalgamation of human and beast, warped by the dark magic of the Valg. Its skin was mottled with sickly hues of gray and green, shimmering unnaturally in the dim light filtering through the canopy. Sinewy muscles bulged beneath its coarse, leathery hide, twitching with an unsettling energy.

The creature's eyes glowed with a malevolent light, pupils dilated into vertical slits like those of a predatory cat. Its elongated limbs ended in razor-sharp talons that scraped against the mossy ground, sending sparks of magic-infused energy dancing into the air. Fanged jaws parted in a hiss, revealing rows of jagged teeth stained with a viscous, black ichor.

As it advanced with a serpentine grace, the air around them seemed to thicken with dread. Nox instinctively drew his dagger, his knuckles whitening around the hilt. Y/n tightened her grip on her own weapon, heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. They exchanged a fleeting glance, silently communicating their readiness to confront the abomination before them.

With a primal roar, the Valg-spawned creature lunged forward, its movements unnaturally swift and erratic. Nox reacted first, darting to the side to evade its slashing claws, then swiftly counterattacking with a series of calculated strikes aimed at vulnerable joints and exposed flesh. His blade sliced through the creature's hide with a sickening squelch, drawing dark blood that sizzled upon contact with the forest floor.

Y/n's heart raced as she faced the twisted Valg-spawned creature in the dimly lit forest. With each swing of its monstrous limbs, fear and determination battled within her. As the creature lunged, she ducked and rolled away, narrowly avoiding its razor-sharp claws.

Adrenaline surged through her veins, heightening her senses. A strange sensation tingled in her teeth and fingertips, as if they were responding to some ancient call. In a moment of desperation, she gritted her teeth and felt the unusual hardness spreading through them. And just like the last time, her teeth elongated and hardened into gleaming iron fangs.

Her nails followed suit, transforming into formidable claws with a metallic sheen. The ancient magic of her bloodline awakened within her.

With newfound resolve, Y/n faced the creature head-on. Her iron teeth sank deep into its toughened hide, eliciting a startled roar of pain. She slashed with her iron claws, each strike delivering a resounding impact. The creature recoiled, its dark eyes filled with surprise and fury.

Beside her, Nox adjusted his stance and joined the fray. His dagger flashed with lethal precision as they fought in tandem, exploiting weaknesses and creating openings. Y/n's iron-enhanced strikes complemented Nox's swift movements, turning the tide of battle in their favor.

But, their luck was short lived as in an impossibly quick move, the creature managed to lunge for y/n, pinning her to the ground. She screamed in pain as her injuries harshly landed on the cold earth. When Nox tried to attack it, the creature used its long, slithery and heavy tail to push him into the rift.

"NO!"

Y/n's words were cut short as the horrifying thing bared its long, black and sharp fangs at her, readying to rip her apart. She would die now. It was time. She would die and no one would ever know-

In the blink of an eye, the horrifying creature was pushed off of her due to the force of something else. Something that was huge. She didn't see it at that second because all she saw was a flash of white fur but she saw it a moment later.

It was Fenrys. Or him as a wolf. His body may be different but she would recognize those dark eyes anywhere. Fenrys glanced at her only once before lunging for the beast. He teared and ripped through the creatures skin, even biting of one of its hands in the process.

Y/n's shoulder was fully bloodied now, causing her movements to slow down immensely. If she couldn't reach it in time, she would atleast throw the knife hidden in her boot at the creature. She was haphazardly trying to get her weapon out when she heard a loud roar of agony come from her side. She immediately turned her head at it and saw Fenrys was now on the ground, blood coming out of the side of his stomach as the ugly thing circled him.

Fenrys had endured horrors worse than this. He lived through and survived even harsher and more complicated conditions. He survived Maeve. He survived the first round of dreadful Valg-created monsters and he would survive this. He won't die because some new slithery Valg-creation managed to kill him. Never.

Fenrys kept telling this to himself as he managed to slowly get up, his energy slowly depleting due to the large cut on his ribs. He got into a defensive stance, baring his fangs as the dreadful thing stopped a few steps away from him, also baring its fangs. Instantaneously, they lunged for one another and Fenrys was about to aim for its neck when the monster fell back with a loud screech that sounded a lot like a cry.

Fenrys landed on the ground and barely managed to stand on his four feet as he saw y/n, with both of her hands right inside the beasts back. Her shoulder was bleeding nonstop, while her face was covered in dirt and blood. Yet none of those layers could hide that fierce, ruthless warriors expression as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, exhaled and then with a quick change of position, she had the creature on the ground as her hands finally ripped away from its chest and in them was......oh Gods.....she was there, all bloodied in both blue and black, her hair a complete and utter mess, her clothes ripped and dirty, her sharp iron nails and teeth shining under the moonlight and her hands, holding an old, rotting, black heart.

Fenrys' vision was getting blurry as he cast a quick glance at the now lifeless beast, with its mouth open and leaking black liquid. He heard the sound of squelching and slowly looked back to see y/n squeezing and destroying the heart before falling on her knees and squeezing her own shoulde-

He was swaying now, his eyes were about to close. Fenrys felt himself shifting before falling to the ground with a loud thump. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear her cry, he could feel a pair of hands on him as he managed to keep his eyes open for a little longer. Nox Owens. He isn't dead? He was saying something but everything was becoming a loud buzz in Fenrys' ears as dark spots began covering his vision.

The last thing he thought of before passing out was y/n. At that moment, she may have been covered in absolute filth but she was still the most enchanting, beautiful being across the universe. Something within him came to life, something he coudn't decipher. But......

Fenrys felt himself slip away completely as darkness enveloped him whole.

When he awoke again, everything was still blurry. But he could hear some chatter near him as his eyes slowly began clearing and Fenrys could see that he was on his bed, in his room. It wasn't night anymore, if the small hints of sunlight invading his room from under the curtains were any indicator.

With a low groan, he turned his head sideways and-

"Dorian?"

The room went silent as the king looked at him with wide eyes before quickly stepping towards his bed as Aelin exhaled a loud "Finally!" and Rowan said to Eva, "Go get Isolde."

Dorian came and pushed Lysandra off her chair near Fenrys, sitting on it, which earned him a glare from the shifter.

"Fenrys! You are alive! I knew my amazingly magical presence alone would bring you out of your unconsciousness!"

Lysandra smacked him on the head as her gaze turned softer the second she looked at Fenrys.

"We are all glad you are finally conscious."

Rowan sat on his bed with a small smile "It has been a day. That stuck up king came early this morning."

Dorian scoffed loudly as Lysandra and Aelin laughed "Look in the mirror, birdie, I am not the only 'stuck up' one."

Fenrys saw how these two were about to start a whole bickering session so he interfered quickly with a question that was on his mind from the second he awoke "Where is y/n? Is she well?"

And by the looks on the faces of his family members, the answer wasn't going to be a good one.

Y/n lost blood. Too much, in fact. First, she got attacked by that servant girl who wounded her shoulders and neck. Then, right after that, her healing wounds were reopened when that monster attacked her.

When Fenrys fell unconscious, y/n was busy ripping out her shirt in order to create a temporary bandage for her wound. Thank the Mother for Nox because she wasn't sure that she would be able to carry Fenrys all the way back to the palace with a bloodied shoulder and a completely drained body.

Nox himself had scratches all over him with a few small tree branches sticking out of his hair as he managed to lift Fenrys up, taking him from one side while y/n slowly got up and took his other side, getting under his arm. Their walk was made shorter thanks to Nox who knew secret shortcuts to reach the palace.

When they reached the residence, she was on the verge of collapsing but managed to force her eyes open as healers were called, as everyone got up, as Fenrys was taken into his bedroom. She barely remembers Manon's wide, worried eyes as she tried pulling y/n into her bedroom with Yrene so that she could also get healed. Y/n also remembers snarling at the witch, threatening the queen herself that she wouldn't leave until Fenrys was well.

She remembers not moving an inch from his bedside, displaying her sharp iron teeth at anyone who dared to even suggest her to go and get cleaned, get healed. But y/n could only hold out for so long before succumbing to her body's pleas. Before she too, fell unconscious on the floor, right next to the bed containing the male who fought for her.

She has been in and out of consciousness in the hours since then. Y/n slightly remembers her room being full with Aelin and her court, she slightly remembers Manon being by her side everytime she would wake and now, as her eyes slowly opened for the hundredth time, she thought the creature must have bitten her mind off, causing her to surely imagine the picture in front of her.

Lorcan was here. In her room. Standing face to face with Manon who was glaring at him while saying something. Yrene was also here with Chaol by her side, holding her hand as he tried to step between the witch and the man. Aedion was shaking his head while pointing his finger at y/n.

When Yrene saw that she was awake again, she quickly gasped "Y/n,"

That made the four others shut up and immediately look at her. Manon quickly ran up to y/n's side and gently brushed her sweaty hair back as she turned her head and told to Aedion, "Go get some water, the pitcher is empty."

Well, she was clearly going mad because what? Manon actually being caring? Lorcan being in her room again?

Yrene and Chaol also came to her side as the former had a soft smile on her face, "Y/n? Do you hear me?"

She slowly nodded her head, not taking her wide eyes away from the giant man standing near the door. What was he doing here again? If he came to fight her, now is not the right time. She might just take out her iron claws and rip him apart. An apology to Elide could come later.

When the others saw her glaring at Lorcan, Manon cleared her throat as she said in a frustrated tone, "He came and insisted on seeing how you were doing. Apparently he is worried but I could gladly tell him to fuck off if you wish."

And she probably would have. No, she actually should have let Manon tear him apart, but....the genuine look of concern and shame sparkling in his eyes made her sigh and say the next words, "It is alright, let him stay."

Manon looked back at her with wide eyes, "Are you sure? I know what he did to you, you don't need to-"

Y/n weakly put her hand on the queen's arm "Manon, please. I think me and him need to have this talk. Alone."

She saw how the witch was about to open her mouth to protest when Yrene just cleared her throat, nodding to the doorway while Chaol gave y/n a small smile.

As the three walked past Lorcan towards the door, he said, "We are outside if you need us."

She nodded her head at Chaol as they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Awkward silence stretched between them as Lorcan cleared his throat and came closer to her bed while softly saying, "I....I know that ever since the time you came here, I haven't been the nicest to you. In fact, I was horrible to you. I just....with the life that I have lived through, it was not easy for me to even trust someone, let alone a stranger from another place. I saw you as an enemy, a secret Valg, the root of all the problems and I was beyond mad when I saw how everyone was starting to slowly warm up to you. Thought of them as blind fools for not seeing you for what you are,"

A deep inhale and exhale.

Then, his mouth moved again, "I thought I did the right thing when I pinned you to the wall and said all that. But then, after Fenrys beat me up in his study, when I was getting healed, and scolded by everyone, I realized what a fool I have been. This is not easy for me to say but-"

"Lorcan-"

He fell on his knees, looking up at her "Y/n, please. I put you through hell so the least I can do is apologize. I am sorry, y/n. So ashamed and so guilty for what I did. I know that you won't forget it but I atleast hope you could forgive me for it."

He was actually sorry. In fact, he looked like he had the word 'miserable' written on his forehead. And while it is true that she would never forget all that he did to her, just like she never forgot anything else, y/n could still find it within herself to forgive him.

She sighed but gave him a small smile "I see why you may have seen me as a threat, Lorcan. In fact, I would have done the same if the roles were reversed and you suddenly ended up in Velaris. But, I am glad you owned up to your actions and apologized. You are right, I won't ever forget it but I can forgive it. I just hope that this means a friendly truce between us. Now please do get up, you are making me feel uncomfortable."

Lorcan smiled. He actually smiled while getting up again.

"Yes, Yes of course. We have peace, you and I. Thank you."

She smiled just as the door opened and both of them looked to see.....Fenrys being held up by Rowan enter the room. He was half naked, his torso completely wrapped up in bandages and bindings, his messy hair stopping right over his chest, his loose pants hanging over his hips. Lorcan immediately went up to help him but stopped when Fenrys cast him a glare before looking between him and y/n.

Y/n said, "Fenrys, we are fine. Lorcan and I made peace. You may relax now."

His body loosened a little but he still kept his glare on Lorcan as Rowan carefully brought him to sit next to her on the bed before dragging the giant man out of the room with him.

When the door was closed and they were alone, he let out a breath and closed his eyes.

He looked so tired, and his body seemed to have even more scratches than the last time she saw it. Y/n sighed but moved to the side, creating some space for the large male to lie in.

He opened his eyes at the sound and cast her a questioning gaze.

Y/n just smiled as she said, "You are tired. Come, let's lie on the bed. If you are comfortable with it of course."

What did she just do? Embarrass herself that's what. Did she truly think that what happened that day in the woods would happen once again here? Out in the open, in her room? In the middle of the day? While his family was just outside this door? He will laugh at her. He won't lie down because he would be embarassed-

Fenrys shifted his body very slowly, hissing at some point, probably due to the pain, before putting his head down on the pillow next to her and taking some of the bedsheet to cover his own body too.

"Your bed is much more comfortable than mine."

She just stared at him, not moving, not blinking and when he saw this, concern stretched all over his face as Fenrys asked "Y/n? Are you well? Should I call Isolde? What-"

"Azriel was embarassed."

His concern turned into confusion as she simply whispered, "After...um- after the war against Hybern, I was seriously injured on the battlefield. I managed to hide my whole blue blood secret by covering my wound with black bandages and when the healers were helping me, I made them swear never to say anything about that. So when I was lying in my cot, Az came to visit me, he was also wounded and tired just like you. When I told him to lie down next to me, he said that there are soldiers that are currently dying or suffering in other ways while I am asking him to cuddle. That it would be embarassing for him to do such a thing."

He slowly lifted his hand and let his fingers gently caress her cheek as he whispered back, "I would never be embarassed of you, princess. That Azriel is a damn fool for ever saying that. It was never your fault that he is a coward."

She felt such comfort. Never in her life has she ever felt this level of safety and bliss. She felt to peaceful that her eyes began to slowly close again. That is when she felt Fenrys gently pull her to him as he whispered, "You are truly one of a kind."

And as they both lay there, in each others arms, healing, their last thoughts were of each other as sleep sang its sweet melody into their ears, lulling them into dreamland.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[brewed-pangolin]

Salvation at the Shelter

This is my first entry into the Soap It Up Challenge by @glitterypirateduck, and apparently I'm feeling angsty. I don't write angst well, but that doesn't mean I won't try. I only used one prompt for this, and I'll let y'all find it. Sorry for the feels on for this Super Soap Sunday.

cw: mentions of loss. also a few callbacks to mwiii if you look closely

Johnny. Your beloved Johnny.

Gone.

Taken away too soon. Leaving an emptiness in your heart and a hole within your soul.

You grieve for what feels like years, yet only turns out to be days. Time standing still as you continually waist away into a fetal crouched mess alone on your tile floor.

Friends, family, and colleagues all tell you to move on. You have to.

But you can't.

For how can one heal from the pain of losing the other half of your soul?

-

It takes you a solid six months to even begin to feel anything again. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. Overwhelming. And not enough.

The emptiness both devours you entirely while continually spitting you back out like a relentless living turbine.

You try to hide the pain behind a smile. It's futile, but it works with most nonetheless. Most.

A few take notice. Those with their own scared hearts and broken stitched souls underneath a practiced expression.

And that's when a coworker confides in you what she did when she lost her husband many years ago.

-

"Go to the shelter," she says plainly over the rim of her glass.

"The shelter?" You question, raising a brow while fumbling with your lunchbox.

"Like, the homeless shelter?"

"No, silly. The animal shelter. Lots of lost souls needing a home. Maybe one there will help fill that hole inside you."

"I'm fine." You bite back. Swallowing your emotions with a gulp of Orange Fanta as you briskly rise from your chair.

"Mhm. Just give it a shot. Might help." She says before turning to walk down the carpeted hall to return to the solitude of her cubicle.

And you're suddenly left alone again with your thoughts, staring aimlessly at the brightly colored face of the vending machine. The color of the Fanta bottle in your hand so reminiscent to the Irn Bru that was consistently stocked in your apartment, you thought you'd break down right then and there. In the middle of your office hallway.

Subtle reminders of him strewn about all through your day you'd nearly become numb to the constant memory of him.

You choked on your emotions once more. Walking as casually as possible back to the devoid walls of your cubicle. Busying yourself in a desperate attempt to rid the tight entanglement of Johnny's echo buried deep within your mind.

You'd take the advice. Go to the shelter. Fill the emotionless void within your soul with at least something. Anything. Hell, even a goldfish would do.

-

The sound was defeaning.

It made your ears ring and your bones tremble. The constant barrage of barks, howls and wails nearly made you spin on your heals and exit before even entering the double doors.

Yet you stood fast. Pushing forward. Perhaps somewhere in this cacophony of canine chaos, you could find solace from your unrelenting heartache.

"I'm just here to look," you tell the attendent with a stern brow. It's a lie, of course. But you muster the strength of poise and composure as your heart and spine wither to dust with every passing moment.

"That's what they all say," the keeper, Jared by the nameplate and probably no more than 18 replies. A wisdom in his voice as he's seen the world come through those doors a thousand times.

"C'mon. And don't get too close to the cages."

You follow close behind. Eyes scanning back and forth between metal bars, taking in the mirage of fur covered lost souls while somehow searching for one that may pull at your broken heart.

German shepherds. Pit bulls. Weimaraners. Jack Russels. Dachshunds. Every breed you could name and so many others you barely could identify.

And they all seemed to mirror your expression perfectly.

Searching. Waiting.

Waiting for an absolution that would never come.

You felt their pain. Their loneliness. Their betrayal.

Still though, non called to you. Marked you.

You were told not to look into their eyes, but how could you not. It had become so second nature to get lost in his eyes you nearly forgot what it felt like to be without them.

You were rounding the corner to the main exit, only a few cages remaining, and a sickening feeling began to boil within your gut. Choking on the bile in your throat with a fruitless attempt at speech.

"That it?"

It was a total loss. Heart sinking to your knees as Jared, the wayward keeper, opened the doors to escort you out of the wing and down an adjacent hall.

"I can show you one more. He's scheduled to be euthanized tonight. He's young. But he's very high energy. And a stubborn little shit. Which is why no one wants him."

He knitted his brow, opening the door to let you in as the overwhelming sound of aggressive barking and growling filled your ears.

Reluctantly, you stepped into the confined room. The solitude had made the poor animal more ruthless and hostile to anyone who stepped through those heavy doors.

Yet something pulled you in. A feeling. A tug at your heart that swiftly moved to wrap around your spine and move you forward.

And as you shut the door, the barking steadily began to settle. The blur of furr and teeth slowed and gradually transformed into a more discernable figure.

And as you stepped up to the cage, you cautiously crouched down to meet the animal at its level and finally met the eyes of a soul you had thought was lost to you long ago.

Blue. A blue so pure yet somehow so misunderstood. An icy cerulean wrapped around tan fur and sharpened teeth topped with blacked edged ears and darkened socks on his feet.

His, because it was obvious. He hadn't been fixed yet.

"Yeah, he's got a thing with doors. He's fine while they're closed but goes ballistic at the slightest movement."

You take note of the dogs calming demeanor. Keeping a close eye on him, scanning across his back and hindquarters, inspecting his conformation for any obvious or detrimental abnormalities.

"Poor thing seems pretty docile once he's settled down," you remark. "Why'd the last family give him up?"

You slid slowly along your feet, edging closer as the canine's demeanor shifts to become more open and submissive. Ears perked with a gradual pull of its paw to expose its tender underbelly.

"They lived next to a railroad or something. Apparently, he hates trains, too."

"What's his name?" You inquire, unable to break the stare as you gently move your hand between the bars in an attempt to gain a physical connection.

"He doesn't have one. And I wouldn't do that, ma'am. He's got-"

He chokes on his words as the fearful pup inches forward to bring the top of his nose your fingertips. You remain calm, quiet. And so does Jared. More out of sheer terror of the inevitable bite that was surely to come.

With a few curious sniffs of your scent, the dog pulls himself forward and against your hand in a desperate attempt to feel your touch.

He curls his back into your palm, rolling his spine underneath the tips of our fingers while moving to lay on the concrete floor.

It's in that moment you know you've been marked. Two lost souls finding one another in the cold and metal walls of a heartache and rekindling the vigor of life within your devoid souls.

"Damn. Never seen him do that before."

You acknowledge his voice, but the only sound reverberating in your ears is the constant strum of your beating heart. Alive once more as the ancient connection between man's best friend heals the scars of an unending loss.

"How old is he?" You ask, turning to face the man standing next to you. Comfortable enough to trust the newly found bond forged as a feeling of warmth and rejuvenation bellows from within your abdomen.

"About six months, I think. Give or taken a few weeks."

Six months. It's purely coincidence.

"I'll take him."

"Alright then. I'll get the paperwork."

You retract your hand just as Jared opens the door, and the frightened pup bolts to cowar in the safety of the corner once more.

But he remains silent. A searching stare locking into your gaze to gauge how to move forward with this unknown terrain.

Slowly, you extend your hand once more into the cage to coax him back to your touch. Rebuild the bond of trust once more as you wait for the inevitable to blow through the door.

With a solemn yet comforted look in the pups eyes, he gradually crawls over and rests his chin within the palm of your hand. Soul blazing eyes staring up within the confines of furr, having a certain familiarity you hadn't seen since so painfully losing that love so long ago.

"That's it. I'll take care of you," you whsiper in a voice akin to haunting within the walls. Rubbing your thumb along his bristled jaw line, not to dissimilar to the affection you showed once before to another blue eyed angel.

The heavy door swung open once more, yet you both remained entwined within an enamored bond as the attendant gently turned the metal knob.

"Think you've found yourself a dog there, ma'am," he muttered with a smile, extending the pen and paperwork for your newly attained ownership.

"You think of a name yet?"

You remained silent for a moment. Knowing full well his name was bestowed upon him the moment you walked through that door.

With one quick glance into his eyes once more, you fell in love with him all over again. And uttered the name you'd thought was destined to become nothing more than a distant memory.

"Johnny. Gonna call him Johnny."

This is hit me just before going to bed and I had to get it out. Love them furbabies. Boop all the snoots.

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @writeforfandoms @punishmepunisher @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @designateddeadend @luismickydees @foxface013

[starrailstories]

Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

[keehomania]

savior (구세주) — park jimin (박 치민)

✧.* 18+

in the depths of forgotten realms, where the line between myth and reality blurred into a tapestry of whispered legends, you wandered through the veil of the supernatural. the air around you shimmered with an ethereal light, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to beat in sync with your own heart. you felt it—an invisible thread connecting you to forces beyond mortal comprehension.

ancient trees, their gnarled branches twisted into elaborate patterns, whispered secrets of the ages. the leaves, imbued with an otherworldly glow, rustled softly, their sound a melodious symphony of enchantment. as you moved through this enchanted forest, you could almost see the faint outlines of fae folk flitting among the shadows, their delicate wings catching the moonlight like threads of silver.

water nymphs glided over the surface of tranquil lakes, their laughter like the tinkling of crystal chimes. fire spirits flickered within the hearths of ancient stone cottages, their flames casting a golden hue that warded off the encroaching darkness. in this realm, every creature possessed a touch of the extraordinary. the wolves that prowled through the underbrush had eyes that gleamed with intelligence far beyond the mundane, their coats shimmering with a spectral light. the owls that hooted from the treetops were the keepers of ancient wisdom, their gaze penetrating the veil of time itself.

you sensed the pull of ancient magic in the wind, a reminder of the great forces that shaped the world. enigmatic sorcerers and enigmatic beings, cloaked in robes woven from stardust, drifted through the shadows, their presence as profound as it was enigmatic. their eyes held the secrets of the universe, and their gestures wove spells of incredible power, shaping reality with a mere flick of their fingers. in this space between worlds, you felt an intoxicating sense of belonging and awe. the supernatural was not a distant concept but a tangible reality, intricately intertwined with the fabric of your existence. you had become a part of this timeless dance, where every element held the promise of wonder and every shadow whispered of ancient powers waiting to be discovered.

in the midst of the extraordinary realm, where every breath seemed to carry a whisper of magic, you stood as an anomaly—a solitary figure in a world brimming with the supernatural. the ties that bound you to this place were both intricate and fragile, like threads of silver spun in a tapestry that only partially embraced you.

you were acutely aware of your lineage, a lineage steeped in power and mystery. your parents, figures of reverence and awe, possessed abilities that transcended the ordinary. your mother could call upon the wind to shape it into messages of hope or warning, her voice an incantation that stirred the very air. your father wielded fire with a mastery that painted the night sky with flickers of crimson and gold, a spectacle of elemental artistry that held the gaze of all who witnessed it.

your brother, too, was a being of remarkable gifts. his capacity to shapeshift was the stuff of legends—one moment a swift and agile wolf, the next a majestic eagle soaring high above the treetops. he moved effortlessly between the forms, each transformation seamless and imbued with an elegance that spoke of deep-rooted connection to the magical forces that surrounded you.

yet, in stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of powers that wove through your family, you stood untouched by the same magic that defined their existence. you were a paradox in this world of wonder—an individual deeply connected yet profoundly separate from the mystical realm. the very elements that danced and mingled around you, so effortlessly embraced by those you loved and admired, remained just out of your grasp.

your attempts to commune with the elements were met with a disheartening silence. you reached out to the wind, hoping to coax it into carrying your wishes or messages, but it responded with a benign indifference. the fire that roared in the hearths, so eager to share its warmth and secrets with others, seemed to dance with a will of its own when you approached, leaving you merely a spectator in its fiery embrace.

the animals, with their eyes aglow with ancient wisdom, regarded you with a curiosity that quickly faded into disinterest. they would not heed your calls or acknowledge your presence in the way they did with those who shared their magical affinity. it was as if an invisible barrier kept you on the fringes of their world, a reminder of the chasm that separated you from their effortless communion with nature.

in social circles where enchantment was the norm, you felt like a shadow among vibrant colors. conversations often revolved around feats of magic—stories of teleportation, shapeshifting, and elemental manipulation. you listened with a mixture of longing and resignation, acutely aware of your exclusion from these extraordinary experiences. it was as though you were a spectator in a grand performance, unable to participate in the very essence of the spectacle.

you had learned to navigate the space with a grace borne of necessity. you played your role with quiet dignity, offering support and companionship to those whose powers you admired from a distance. your place in this realm was a testament to the intricate balance between presence and absence, between connection and separation. in a world where magic defined existence, you were a poignant reminder that even among the most enchanted, there could be those who, despite their ties, remained untouched by the very forces that shaped their reality.

in the quiet of your room, illuminated by the soft, flickering light of a single candle, you faced your brother with a heart heavy with questions. his figure, a tapestry of shifting forms and shimmering energies, stood before you, embodying the very essence of what you yearned for. the silence between you was filled with the weight of your unspoken doubts.

“why don’t i have any powers?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. the words felt like an intrusion into the serene harmony of your brother’s existence. you watched as daehyun sighed, his gaze softening with a compassion that only deepened your sense of inadequacy.

“it’s not something you can control,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “powers manifest in their own time. maybe yours just haven’t surfaced yet.” you nodded, but the words did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of unease that had settled in your chest. the promise of future potential did little to comfort you in the present. as the conversation waned, you sought solace from your mother, her presence a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold uncertainty.

she embraced you with a tenderness that spoke of unconditional love. “i want you to know,” she murmured softly, her voice imbued with a quiet strength, “that not having powers doesn’t change how much i love you. you are just as precious to me as anyone with magic in their veins.” her words, though well-intentioned, only deepened the chasm of your sorrow. you tried to draw comfort from her assurances, but they felt hollow, like a beautiful painting covering a void. you couldn’t shake the feeling that her love, though unwavering, was a pale consolation in a world where power defined worth.

when your father came to you, his usual fiery demeanor was softened by an uncharacteristic melancholy. “i wish,” he said, his voice laden with a rare vulnerability, “that i could understand what it’s like for you. i sometimes wish i could be like you—free from the burdens of power.” his sentiment was meant to be reassuring, a gesture of empathy from one who knew the weight of extraordinary abilities. yet, his words only seemed to underscore the isolation you felt. his struggle to relate to your condition, while empathetic, highlighted your distance from the very world he inhabited.

as the day turned to night, you found yourself alone once more, your frustration boiling over into a silent plea. you gazed at the star-studded sky, your eyes searching for any sign of a higher power that might offer you some measure of solace or change. you groaned inwardly, your heart heavy with a silent prayer, begging for anything—an inkling of magic, a spark of potential, anything that might bridge the gap between you and the world you so desperately wished to be a part of.

unbeknownst to you, your mother, too, was engaged in her own private prayer, her heart aching for you in a way that transcended words. her plea was not driven by disappointment but by a deep-seated concern for your well-being. she feared the dangers and betrayals that could come from those who wielded power—the same dangers that had once threatened her own family. she prayed fervently, hoping that some semblance of power or protection might come to you, not out of a sense of inadequacy, but from a desire to shield you from the harsh realities of a world where power could be both a gift and a curse.

the hallways of the school were a continuous cascade of shimmering lights and crackling energy, each corner alive with the potent hum of supernatural power. it was a place where every student and teacher was marked by their own unique abilities, a realm where magic was as common as air. the walls, lined with ornate murals depicting epic battles and mythical creatures, seemed to pulsate with the essence of enchantment. amidst this tapestry of abilities, you were an anomaly—a solitary figure navigating a world of extraordinary talents with no powers of your own. the disparity was stark, highlighted by the whispers and sidelong glances that followed you through the corridors. everyone knew your status as the exception, a reality that was as inescapable as it was uncomfortable.

despite this, the teachers maintained their professionalism, treating you with the same respect they afforded every student. you were here because of your family’s legacy, a fact that some found difficult to overlook. you often felt like a mere shadow among the bright lights of your peers, your presence a reminder of the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

haesoo was your singular solace in this enchanted world. she, too, had powers, though her ability to see into the future provided little in the way of physical prowess. this limitation made her just as vulnerable to the harsh judgments and insults as you were. yet, despite the ridicule, she remained steadfast in her friendship, a source of empathy amidst the sea of scorn.

you leaned against your locker, the cool metal offering a small measure of relief. haesoo approached, her eyes filled with a gentle concern. ahe took your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. as she closed her eyes, you could sense the familiar yet elusive sensation of her power at work. you watched her face for any sign of revelation, your skepticism palpable. then, with a sudden gasp, haesoo’s eyes snapped open, her grip tightening on your hand. “what’s wrong?” you asked, a note of apprehension in your voice. “what do you see?”

“there’s a savior in the near future,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty. “expect the unexpected.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in mild exasperation. “the unexpected? like you ripping my hand off?”

haesoo’s eyes widened in realization as she noticed the firmness of her grip. she quickly loosened her hold, offering you a nervous laugh. “sorry about that. i didn’t mean to—” you chuckled, though your smile was tinged with weariness. “it’s fine. i just wonder if i’ll ever get any power at all.”

from behind you, a voice cut through the conversation with a sneering edge. “you could only dream of it.”

you turned to see taehyung, a smirk playing on his lips. his disdain was well-known; ever since he had learned of your lack of abilities, he had made it his mission to taunt and belittle you. you offered him a thin smile, trying to mask the sting of his words. “thanks for the encouragement.”

taehyung’s smirk widened. “wanna see something cool?” you shook your head, not in the mood for more of his antics. “not really.”

ignoring your response, taehyung used his telekinetic powers to lift you off the ground. you yelped in surprise as he began to sway you through the air, your feet dangling a few inches above the floor. haesoo’s face flushed with concern, and she called out, “taehyung, put her down!”

his eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, “or what? you’ll read my future with a fortune cookie?”

the bell rang, and he reluctantly set you down, patting your head with a dismissive chuckle. “it never gets old,” he said, walking past you. you watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over you. the insults and jabs had become a constant, an unwelcome backdrop to your days at the school. despite your hopes for a reprieve, it seemed the mockery would persist as long as you remained a strong contrast to the powers that defined your peers.

the classroom buzzed with an energy that felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity shaped by the collective powers of its occupants. each student seemed to manipulate the environment in their own unique way, creating a whirlwind of distractions that made focusing on anything else nearly impossible.

to your left, a girl with flowing dark hair effortlessly levitated her pen, guiding it through the air as if it were an extension of her will. she reached out with her mind, making the pen dance gracefully across her notebook. nearby, another student with a calm demeanor simply tapped her temple, and answers to the professor’s questions appeared on her paper as if by magic. her telepathic ability allowed her to glean the answers directly from the professor’s thoughts, a skill that left you feeling distinctly out of place.

you sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of your own inadequacies. you knew that while others could summon and control elements with ease, or glean knowledge without effort, you had to work diligently to achieve even the most basic understanding. the constant comparison to your peers’ effortless mastery of their abilities was a persistent reminder of your own limitations.

the professor, a stern man whose presence demanded respect, looked around the room with a discerning gaze. his eyes settled on you, an unspoken challenge evident in his expression. “what do you believe causes dreams?” he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of telekinetic murmurs and mental projections.

you furrowed your brow, trying to concentrate amidst the chaos. the hands of those with telepathic abilities shot up eagerly, but the professor's focus remained solely on you. taking a deep breath, you began, “i believe dreams are a result of the subconscious mind processing thoughts and experiences. they are influenced by brain activity, which creates a narrative from our emotions and memories.”

the professor’s eyes softened, and he nodded in approval. “a thoughtful answer,” he said. “correct.”

you felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sneer you noticed from the girl who had been so eager to demonstrate her telepathic prowess. her expression was one of disdain, a silent judgment that seemed to cut deeper than any spoken insult.

as the day drew to a close, you found yourself in the bathroom, seeking a moment of solitude away from the relentless buzz of the school. you stepped out of the stall, your thoughts still lingering on the subtle sneer you had seen earlier. the bathroom, typically a place of mundane quiet, felt charged with an unsettling tension.

as you turned to leave, a girl blocked your path. her face was one you recognized from class—one of the telekinetics who had been demonstrating her powers with such ease. you looked up at her, a sense of dread mingling with resignation. “what do you want?” you asked, your voice betraying your unease.

ahe smirked, her eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. “i had an itching to use the toilet,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. without waiting for a response, she pushed past you and into the stall.

you stepped aside, gesturing for her to proceed. but before you could react, everything happened in a blur. she spun around with surprising speed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards her. your heart raced as you tried to break free, but her grip was unyielding. you flailed helplessly as she maneuvered you towards the toilet. the cold, harsh reality of the situation hit you as she dunked your head into the bowl. the frigid water engulfed you, sending a shock through your system. panic surged through you as you tried to gasp for air, but the water swirled around you, making it difficult to breathe. the world spun in a chaotic whirlpool of muffled sounds and blinding wetness.

she pulled you up only to slam your head back into the toilet, holding it down longer this time. the sensation of being submerged was disorienting, and your head spun in a disorienting dance of pressure and damp. the mixture of the cold water and the overwhelming sense of helplessness left you disoriented and gasping for breath when she finally yanked you up again. “maybe if you had any powers,” she said with a sneer, “you could get out of this one.” her voice was mocking, her tone a harsh reminder of the gap between your abilities and those of your peers. she left you there, dirty, wet, and sobbing, the pain and humiliation of the encounter settling heavily on your shoulders.

as the door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the reality of your situation washed over you in waves. you were left with the lingering sting of her taunts, the sting of being powerless in a world where such power was the norm. the echo of your sobs and the coolness of the bathroom tiles were the only witnesses to your silent plea for solace in a place that felt both foreign and unforgiving.

the journey home was a blur of muted colors and heavy steps, each stride a reminder of the day’s harrowing events. as you walked, the chill of the wet clothes clung to your skin, and the weight of your soaked attire seemed to anchor you to the pain and humiliation you had just endured. the evening air, cool and unyielding, did little to soothe the ache in your heart or the cold dampness against your body.

you finally reached the front door, the familiar warmth of home contrasting starkly with the cold dread that clung to you. as you stepped inside, the sound of your wet shoes squelching on the hardwood floor was the only indication of your disheveled state. your mother was in the kitchen, her back turned as she prepared dinner. the comforting aroma of her cooking wafted through the air, but it did little to lift the gloom hanging over you.

she turned as you entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in your appearance. “what happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. her gaze traveled over your dripping clothes and disheveled hair, her maternal instincts flaring into action. you met her eyes for a moment, the weight of your ordeal pressing heavily on your shoulders. the words you wanted to say seemed to catch in your throat, and instead of responding, you simply retreated to your room, your silence a painful testament to the day’s emotional toll.

the door to your room closed behind you with a soft click, and you sank onto your bed, your sodden clothes leaving damp impressions on the sheets. you stared blankly at the ceiling, the oppressive silence of your room amplifying the turmoil within. as you sat there, you could hear the muffled sounds of your mother’s distress from the other side of the house.

in the kitchen, your mother’s cries were heartfelt and raw. she confided in your father, her voice trembling with anguish as she spoke of her wish for you to be able to defend yourself. “why can’t they leave her alone?” she wept. “i just wish she could stand up for herself. it breaks my heart to see her suffer like this.” your father’s response was calm and comforting, his steady voice a balm to your mother’s fears. “it’s not her fault,” he reassured her. “she’s doing her best in a world that doesn’t make it easy. we’ll find a way to help her, i promise.”

you could hear his words faintly through the walls, a bittersweet reminder of the support that was available to you. but in your isolation, it felt distant, almost unreachable. when you finally gathered the strength to rise, you made your way to the bathroom. the cool, tiled surface felt refreshing against your heated skin as you undressed and stepped into the shower. you turned the faucet, allowing the warm water to cascade over you, mingling with the remnants of the day’s grime and tears.

as the water poured over you, you let out a shuddering breath, the steam and warmth offering a fleeting sense of solace. You sank to the floor of the shower, the water continuing to flow over you, masking the tears that streaked down your face. each droplet that hit your skin seemed to carry away a small fragment of the pain, but it did little to quell the deep sorrow that enveloped you. you wept silently, the sound of the water mingling with your sobs. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you, and you found yourself praying for a way out of the cycle of torment and helplessness. your whispered pleas for change, for the chance to be more than a spectator in a world of power, were drowned by the relentless rush of the shower.

that night, as you lay in bed, the exhaustion of the day’s emotional and physical toll was awful. the darkness of your room enveloped you like a shroud, offering no comfort against the cold fear that gripped you. you pulled the damp sheets around you, seeking solace in their weight. your thoughts continued to swirl as you drifted into a restless sleep, your mind haunted by images of the day’s events and the painful realization of your own vulnerability. the hope for change was a faint, flickering light in the depths of your dreams, a fragile ember that you clung to as you cried yourself to sleep, wishing for a future where you could finally find a place where you belonged.

the morning sun filtered through the school’s grand windows, casting elongated shadows across the hallways as you trudged through the familiar corridors, still feeling the weight of yesterday’s events. the usual hum of conversations and bursts of laughter filled the air, but today, the vibrant atmosphere did little to uplift your somber mood.

you glanced around, searching for any sign of hana, the girl who had humiliated you the day before. her absence was conspicuous, her usual spot in the classroom glaringly empty. you took a seat beside haesoo, the comforting familiarity of her presence offering a small measure of solace amidst the school environment.

haesoo looked up from her notebook as you settled in. her eyes, bright with curiosity, took in your demeanor. “have you noticed? hana isn’t here today,” you said, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

haesoo’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. she shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “maybe the cops got to the bitch,” she said, her tone light but edged with discomfort. after a brief pause, she shuddered slightly and added, “i’ve got a bad feeling about this. something doesn’t sit right with me.” you stared at hana’s vacant seat, your thoughts racing. the possibility that something sinister had happened crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. she could simply be ill, or perhaps she was skipping school. the pragmatic side of you struggled to push aside the gnawing sense of unease.

as the lesson began, you tried to focus on the professor’s lecture, but the absence of hana and the eerie implications of haesoo’s comment lingered at the edge of your thoughts. across the room, hana’s friend, mina, sat with a palpable air of hostility. her glare, sharp and unrelenting, made it clear she bore a grudge. you averted your gaze, feeling a familiar pang of discomfort. when the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, you stood up, gathering your things with a mixture of relief and trepidation. as you walked down the hallway, the bustling student body seemed to press in on you, the noise and movement creating a dizzying effect.

suddenly, you stumbled, your foot catching on something unseen. you brushed it off as a momentary lapse in coordination, but the next step was less forgiving. your legs gave way entirely, sending you crashing onto your back with a jarring impact. you winced as pain shot through your body, the hard floor feeling like a relentless punishment.

turning your head, you saw mina standing nearby, her lips curled into a smirk of malicious satisfaction. “why did you stop walking? do you wanna die?” she taunted, her voice dripping with derision. ignoring her taunts, you struggled to your feet, the effort exacerbating the ache that had begun to settle into your bones. you started to walk again, determined to reach your next class despite the throbbing pain in your head and the sting of her cruel words.

but as you continued down the corridor, an unexpected force slammed into you from behind, propelling you against the wall with a jarring thud. the impact was so forceful that you felt the wall tremble, a low crack resonating through the hallway. pain exploded in your back, sending waves of disorientation through you.

amidst the haze of agony, you heard mina’s laughter, a cruel, incoherent sound that mingled with the throbbing in your head. she sauntered over to you, her presence looming as she leaned close, her voice a chilling whisper. “that must hurt,” she said with a mocking tone, her eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. she didn’t wait for your response before turning on her heel and walking away.

the corridor seemed to spin around you as you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with a relentless intensity. each step you took was a struggle, the pain radiating through your body with every movement. you made your way home, the journey feeling endless as the throbbing in your temples grew more insistent.

once you reached the safety of your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. as darkness settled over the room, you tried to force yourself into a restless sleep, hoping that the respite of slumber would dull the ache and offer some escape from the torment of the day.

the pain persisted, but with each passing moment, sleep began to claim you, a dim, fleeting hope that tomorrow might bring a reprieve from the relentless cycle of suffering. as the world around you faded into the comforting embrace of sleep, you clung to the fragile hope that the dawn might bring change and relief from the unrelenting shadows of your daily struggles.

the next morning, you approached the school with a knot of unease settling in your stomach. the events of the previous day had left you feeling on edge, and the emptiness of the hallways seemed to mirror the unsettling silence that enveloped you. as you walked to your classroom, you found yourself scanning the crowd for any sign of mina or hana, but there was nothing—only the usual bustle of students chatting and shuffling to their next class.

you entered the classroom and took your seat beside haesoo, whose presence offered a small measure of comfort. the usual buzz of activity was noticeably absent, and as the minutes ticked by, the growing absence of hana and mina began to weigh heavily on you. you leaned in close to haesoo, trying to keep your voice low. “this can’t be a coincidence,” you said, your tone tinged with anxiety.

she squinted at you, her brow furrowed in thought. “it isn’t,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of uncertainty. she hesitated, her eyes darting around as if seeking something just beyond her grasp. “but i can’t get a clear message,” she added slowly. “it’s almost like it’s out of reach.”

before you could ask her to elaborate on what she meant, the classroom door swung open with an authoritative creak. two officers stepped into the room, their presence instantly commanding silence. the room fell into an uneasy hush, the only sounds the shuffling of papers and the occasional murmur of curiosity.

the lead officer, a tall man with a stern expression, cleared his throat before speaking. “good morning, students. we are conducting a search regarding two of your classmates, oh mina and jung hana.” his words carried a gravity that made your heart skip a beat. the room buzzed with whispers as the announcement settled over the students.

the officer continued, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “both girls have been reported missing by their families. they have not come home, nor have they been seen anywhere in the vicinity. we urge anyone who may have information about their whereabouts to come forward immediately.”

the murmurs grew louder, a mix of shock and curiosity spreading through the classroom. your eyes widened in disbelief as the reality of the situation sank in. the officers concluded their announcement and exited the room, leaving a tense atmosphere in their wake. you turned to haesoo, who was looking at you with a mixture of concern and suspicion. “do you have anything to do with this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you rolled your eyes, a mixture of frustration and indignation bubbling within you. “are you serious?” you replied. “you know i wouldn’t—”

she shook her head, cutting you off. “no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “it’s just, i got a chill when they mentioned it. i’ve never felt anything like it before. it’s unsettling.” her words only deepened the sense of unease that had settled over you. as you left the classroom and made your way home, the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you. the mystery of mina and hana’s disappearance loomed large, and you couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something was profoundly wrong.

when you finally arrived home, the house was quiet, the usual warmth of your family’s presence replaced by an anxious tension. your brother, who was usually the epitome of calm, met you at the door with a grave expression. “did you hear the news?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you nodded, feeling the day’s events catch in your throat. “yes, the police came to school. they were looking for mina and hana.”

your parents, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged startled glances. your mother’s face turned pale, her eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and a cold, hard resolve. “think of it as a blessing,” she said, her voice lacking warmth. “those girls were nothing but trouble.”

the coldness in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. the idea of them being missing was unsettling, but your mother’s reaction felt almost dispassionate, as though their disappearance was a matter of indifference rather than concern. you could sense the undercurrent of relief in her words, a stark contrast to the unease that plagued you.

you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. the disappearance of the two girls who seemed determined to make your life a living hell, combined with the cold detachment of your family, created a turbulent whirlpool of confusion and unease. the hope for answers seemed as distant as ever, and as sleep finally claimed you, it came with a heavy heart, filled with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread. the night enveloped you in its quiet, oppressive embrace. you stirred from a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as the day’s events replayed in your mind. with a groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and padded softly to the kitchen. the cool, dimly lit room offered a brief respite from the swirling thoughts that plagued you.

you poured yourself a glass of water, the clear liquid offering a momentary sense of calm. as you took a sip, the coldness of the water seemed to contrast sharply with the heaviness in your chest. you returned to your room, hoping that the soothing effect of the water might coax you back to sleep. instead, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room filled with your racing thoughts. “will i ever get powers?” you mused aloud, the question echoing in the quiet of the night. “why can’t i just be like everyone else?”

a voice, soft but clear, sliced through your self-reflection, startling you. “are you still thinking about that?”

you whipped your head around to see a man standing in the corner of your room. his presence was unsettling, a contrast to the soft illumination of the moonlight that filtered through your window. his face was partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling amusement. you gasped and scrambled backward, your heart racing as you screamed. the sound was strangled, caught in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the intruder’s presence. he remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he watched you with a hint of a smile.

moments later, your brother burst into the room, his face etched with concern. “what’s wrong?” daehyun asked, his eyes scanning the room. his gaze passed over the man without a hint of recognition, as if the figure were nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

you quickly composed yourself, forcing a shaky smile. “i thought i saw a bug,” you stammered, trying to sound casual despite the pounding of your heart. “it must have been nothing.” daehyun gave you a skeptical look but shrugged it off. “alright, if you’re sure. call me if you need anything.”

as he left the room, you turned back to the man, who remained where he was, his presence an eerie constant. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

he regarded you with an amused glint in his eye. “i’m your savior,” he replied smoothly.

you blinked, confusion clouding your features. “what do you mean? are you going to hurt me?”

he scoffed lightly, a sound that seemed to carry its own form of amusement. “hurt you? no, i’m not here to hurt you. do you recall the people who were bullying you?” you nodded, the memory of their taunts and cruelty still fresh in your mind.

the man’s smile widened slightly. “i got rid of them,” he said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.

panic surged through you, and you stumbled over your words. “you didn’t kill them, did you?”

“no, nothing so crude,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “i sent them to the underworld.” the terms normal people were exposed to were biblical, accurate, generic. heaven and hell. in your world, the underworls existed openly. it was an alternate dimension, one that wasn't as bad as hell, yet seemingly just as bad. those who were sent were sent alive, bodies and souls intact, where they'd be repeatedly punished—over and over and over—for their wrongdoings.

your heart pounded as you tried to process his words. “why? why would you do that?”

he shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to make his words even more chilling. “because they were bothering you.”

you gaped at him, unable to comprehend the connection. “and what does that have to do with you?”

he raised an eyebrow, as if considering how to explain something very simple. “you should be familiar with having supernatural powers, shouldn’t you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life without any powers,” you retorted, frustration mingling with fear. “what does that have to do with you helping me now?”

“this is your power,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “i’m from the underworld, and i can attach myself to whatever i choose, giving them any power they need.”

your eyes widened with disbelief. “why me? why did you choose me of all people?”

he paused for a moment, a contemplative look crossing his features. “i did it because i wanted to. and,” he added, his voice taking on a mysterious quality, “nobody else can see me unless i want them to.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your shoulders. the reality of the situation seemed almost too surreal to grasp. he chuckled softly, the sound a darkly pleasant note in the stillness of the night.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a grin. “my name is park jimin. and (y/n) (l/n), i’ll be seeing you around.”

before you could react, he vanished from sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of his presence. you knew he was still there, an intangible shadow in the room, but his form was now invisible to you. the chill of his departure settled over you, and the eerie silence of the room seemed to close in.

your mind raced as you lay back in bed, trying to make sense of the strange encounter. the idea of possessing a power, of having someone from the underworld attach themselves to you, was both terrifying and fascinating. you felt a strange sense of anticipation, mixed with fear, as you stared into the darkness, the night pressing in with an oppressive weight. sleep came fitfully, but the presence of jimin lingered in your thoughts, an unsettling reminder of what you could only assume was to come.

the morning light peered through your curtains, casting a pale glow over your room. as you slowly awoke, the memories of the previous night were still fresh in your mind, but jimin’s unsettling presence was gone. you scanned the room, half-expecting to find him lurking in the shadows, but there was no sign of him. a wave of slight relief washed over you, though it was accompanied by an uneasy thought—he could be anywhere, hidden from view, and you wouldn't even know it.

you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to you. your mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence of the early morning. “how did you sleep?” she asked with a note of concern in her tone. forcing a smile, you replied, “just fine.”

daehyun scoffed as he entered the kitchen. “you screamed like you were being gutted last night,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and curiosity. your father looked up from his newspaper, his brows knitting together. “what happened?” he asked, his tone indicating genuine concern.

you hesitated, then shrugged as casually as you could. “i saw a bug. it was nothing.” your father’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he seemed to accept your explanation. “alright then,” he said, turning back to his newspaper. the conversation moved on, but the undercurrent of unease persisted, as if the previous night’s events had left a lasting imprint.

you walked to school with a heavy heart, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. as you approached the school gates, you noticed the usual crowd of students, their faces a blur of familiarity and anonymity. the absence of hana and mina remained a topic of conversation among the students, but the discussions were tinged with a mixture of gossip and indifference.

inside the school, the hallways seemed more tense than usual. you found yourself at your locker, trying to go through the motions of your day, when haesoo joined you. she leaned against her locker, her face drawn into a thoughtful frown. “it would be a shame if they weren’t such sluts,” she muttered, her voice low. she closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to push away a troubling thought. curiosity piqued, you asked, “what’s the matter?”

ahe shivered slightly and shook her head. “i just got a chill,” she said, her voice uncertain. she seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around as if searching for something elusive. you watched her, puzzled by her sudden shift in demeanor. “what are you talking about?” you asked, but she was silent, her gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see.

suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stared in shock. you followed her gaze, your heart skipping a beat as you saw what had caught her attention. there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was park jimin. he was dressed in the school uniform, his appearance disturbingly casual. his smile was both enigmatic and unsettling, a contrast to the surrounding confusion and chatter.

your breath caught in your throat. the sight of him, so out of place in the school environment, was jarring. his presence seemed to draw the eye of everyone in the hallway, though he appeared to be a spectral figure to most, his gaze focused solely on you and haesoo. his eyes locked onto yours, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their depths. he stood with an air of effortless confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. the contrast between his calm demeanor and the chaos of the school around him only served to heighten the surreal quality of the moment.

haesoo’s expression was a mix of disbelief and fear, her earlier chill now palpable in her wide-eyed stare. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as jimin’s smile grew, as though he enjoyed the effect he was having on you both. in the midst of the busy school hallway, where students milled about oblivious to the strange encounter, jimin’s presence seemed to create a pocket of stillness. you felt the weight of his gaze on you, a reminder of the enigmatic power he had claimed to possess.

the bell rang, breaking the spell and drawing the attention of the students back to their daily routines. his figure slowly faded from view, his presence slipping away as the normalcy of the school day reasserted itself. haesoo turned to you, her face pale and her voice trembling slightly. “did you see that?” she asked, her words barely audible. you nodded, trying to steady your racing heart. “yes,” you said, your voice tight with unease. “i saw him.”

the classroom rang with the usual chatter as students shuffled in, preparing for the day’s lessons. you took your seat, your mind still preoccupied with the unsettling encounter with jimin from the previous day. the door creaked open, and the noise in the room gradually subsided as the professor stepped in, his usual demeanor composed but with a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes.

“good morning, everyone,” the professor began, his voice commanding attention. “we have a new student joining us today.”

you looked up, curiosity piqued. as the professor gestured toward the door, your heart skipped a beat when him stepped into the room. he wore the school uniform with an easy grace, his presence immediately drawing the eye. his smile was as enigmatic as ever, a contrast to the standard school attire that seemed almost to constrict the rest of the students.

jimin walked to the front of the class, his every step measured and confident. “hello, everyone,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a pleasant yet unnerving calm. “i’m park jimin. it’s a pleasure to be here.”

a murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but it was taehyung’s scoff that caught your attention. from his seat at the back of the room, taehyung’s disdain was palpable. “so, what’s your power?” he called out, his tone dripping with skepticism. jimin’s eyes met his with a chilling intensity. “anything you want it to be,” he replied, his voice a low, deliberate drawl.

the room fell silent, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine as the weight of jimin’s words settled over you. taehyung’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity, but before he could respond, something extraordinary happened. with a fluid motion, the empty desks around the room began to levitate, their wooden forms moving in a synchronized dance. the desks flew through the air, converging on taehyung and trapping him against the wall. the desks pressed around him with a force that was firm but not painful, effectively pinning him in place without causing harm.

taehyung’s eyes widened in alarm as he protested, his voice muffled by the barrier of desks. “what? let me go!” the professor, typically the picture of professional composure, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, clearly amused by the display. jimin’s gaze remained fixed on taehyung, his expression one of calm detachment.

“if you say so,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. with a flick of his wrist, he used his telekinetic abilities to lift taehyung into the air. the desks followed suit, returning to their original places as taehyung was gently deposited on the other side of the room, away from the wall.

jimin’s smile widened as he turned to the class. “never gets old,” he remarked, the lightness in his tone belying the impressive display of power he had just demonstrated.

laughter erupted from the students, a mixture of relief and amusement at the unexpected demonstration. you found yourself caught up in the laughter, unable to suppress a grin as you locked eyes with jimin. his gaze held yours for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you. he took an empty seat beside you, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. the room gradually settled down, the buzz of conversation resuming as the class prepared for the lesson. you leaned in, trying to keep your voice low amidst the chatter.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, your tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension. jimin’s smile remained as he leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “i told you i was your savior,” he whispered back, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

his words hung in the air, carrying with them a promise of further intrigue. as the professor began the day’s lesson, you found it difficult to concentrate, the encounter with him dominating your thoughts. the reality of his presence in your school, the display of his powers, and his cryptic assurances all melded into a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation.

the cafeteria was a hive of activity, alive with the usual din of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of trays and cutlery. the scent of various foods filled the air, mingling with the chatter of students as they moved through the line and found their seats. the vibrant atmosphere of the cafeteria was heightened today, the energy buzzing with heightened excitement and curiosity following jimin's display of power earlier in the day.

as you and haesoo made your way to a table, you noticed the crowd around jimin had only grown. groups of female students swarmed him, their faces alight with admiration as they offered him water, food, and even the best seats in the house. jimin declined each offer with a charming smile and a graceful wave of his hand, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

your gaze met his across the bustling cafeteria, and for a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours. your heart skipped a beat as haesoo let out a surprised yelp. “is he really coming over here?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. indeed, jimin was making his way toward you, his smile unwavering as he approached your table. he stopped in front of you, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around him. “may i join you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

you nodded, still trying to process the surreal turn of events. he took a seat across from you, his posture relaxed yet assertive. the commotion around him seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention on you, his smile never faltering. the surprise of his arrival was short-lived, however, as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. two hands settled heavily on your shoulders, and you turned to see taehyung’s smirking face looming above you.

“what do you want?” you asked, trying to maintain a tone of annoyance despite the flutter of unease in your chest. taehyung’s smirk widened as he replied, “i haven’t bugged you in a minute. besides, i have unfinished business here.”

before you could react, taehyung shoved you to the side, claiming the seat next to you with a casual disregard. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his grip firm and inescapable. you tensed, trying to wriggle free, but his hold was unyielding. “did you have fun humiliating me earlier?” he asked jimin, his tone taunting. his eyes were fixed on him, his smirk never faltering.

jimin’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “not enough,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of menace. he leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto taehyung. “let go of her.” taehyung’s grip tightened instead, pulling you closer into his side. “we’re good friends, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

you turned to jimin, desperation in your eyes. he stood up abruptly, slamming his fork onto the table with a clatter that drew the attention of everyone nearby. he approached taehyung with a purposeful stride, his expression serious. “get up,” he ordered. taehyung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he remained seated, continuing to pick at his food as if unfazed. jimin, however, was undeterred. he reached out and grabbed the collar of taehyung’s uniform, lifting him effortlessly into the air. the cafeteria fell into stunned silence, the usual noise abruptly ceasing as students gasped and murmured in shock.

taehyung dangled in the air, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. “how can you do everything at once like that?” he demanded, his voice quivering. jimin’s expression remained composed, his gaze fixed on taehyung with a mixture of mockery and disdain. “would you like to be put down?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

taehyung hesitated, his pride warring with his fear, before he finally nodded. jimin, with a casual flick of his wrist, threw taehyung back down onto the floor. the impact was jarring, the sound of him hitting the ground echoing through the cafeteria. you watched in awe as jimin returned to his seat with a casual grace. the room was abuzz with whispers and murmurs, all eyes focused on the spectacle that had just unfolded. your own gaze was fixed on him, unable to hide your amazement.

“how did you do that?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. jimin’s smile broadened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “already so impressed?” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “you should be.”

as you trudged home, the crisp evening air provided a slight reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day. the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set, casting long shadows along the deserted sidewalks. the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed against the quiet streets, a comforting metronome in the solitude of your walk.

suddenly, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. you spun around sharply, your heart skipping a beat, but found only the empty street stretching behind you. you frowned, brushing off the sensation as a trick of the mind, and turned back around to continue your journey. however, the sight that greeted you made you catch your breath. jimin stood there, his presence like an unexpected burst of color in the dimming light. his sudden appearance was startling. you exhaled sharply and muttered, “stop doing that.”

a mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you’re pretty like that,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, only to find that he was no longer there. the sudden emptiness where he had been left you feeling slightly disoriented.

you turned around quickly, and there he was again, standing behind you. his grin was unwavering, his eyes filled with playful mischief. “like that,” he repeated, his voice echoing in your ears.

you frowned in exasperation, your patience wearing thin. “stop scaring me,” you demanded, though the hint of amusement in your voice betrayed your frustration. jimin chuckled softly, his laughter a gentle ripple in the quiet evening. “it’s amusing,” he said, his voice lingering in the air as if he were still beside you.

just as you were about to respond, you felt yourself stumble, your foot catching on an uneven patch of sidewalk. before you could fully lose your balance and fall, jimin was there, catching you with effortless grace. he held you steady, his smile warm and reassuring. “but saving you is much better,” he whispered close to your ear.

you looked up at him, a mixture of annoyance and relief in your eyes. “you’re insane,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of gratitude. “i was fine on my own.”

jimin scoffed lightly, his gaze playful. “how did you like the taste of toilet water?” he asked, his tone laced with a teasing edge. your eyes widened in shock. “you saw that?” you gasped, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

he rolled his eyes as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “i see everything,” he said dismissively. you quickly covered yourself, feeling a surge of indignation. “pervert!” you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of mortification and anger.

jimin’s eyes widened in surprise, his expression turning thoughtful. “a pervert?” he repeated, as if he were considering the accusation seriously. after a moment, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “would you like to be sent to the underworld?”

you shook your head vigorously, the thought of such a fate making you shiver. “no!” you said, your voice filled with urgency.

jimin smirked, his expression one of satisfied amusement. “that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone light and mocking.

by the time you reached your front door, jimin was nowhere to be seen. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “i know you’re there.” the familiar thwack against the back of your head, like an invisible slap, confirmed his lingering presence. you opened the door and stepped inside, where your brother daehyun was waiting. he looked at you with a skeptical expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. “who were you talking to?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “just talking to myself,” you said with a casual wave of your hand. saehyun stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “maybe you really have lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head in awe.

you playfully smacked him on the head, his reaction a mix of surprise and annoyance. “shut up,” you said with a grin, before heading toward your room. as you passed by the kitchen, your mother called out, “you seem to be in a better mood today.”

you paused for a moment, contemplating her observation. it was true that something had shifted within you, a glimmer of unexpected excitement mingling with the confusion. you turned to her and gave a small, genuine smile. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “maybe i am.”

as you closed the door behind you, the click of the lock seemed to echo in the quiet room. you leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as you tried to shake off the day’s events. the room was dimly lit by the slant of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long, ghostly shadows that danced across the walls.

when you turned around, you gasped. there, leaning casually against the edge of your bed, was jimin. his presence was both startling and oddly comforting. “i told you to stop doing that,” you said, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

jimin rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish, his expression one of amused exasperation. “you’re easy to scare,” he replied with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. he tilted his head slightly and added, “you must not be used to having men in your room.”

the comment struck a nerve, and you scoffed, feigning offense. “i’ve had plenty of experience,” you retorted, though the blush rising to your cheeks betrayed the unease you felt.

jimin’s eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter, his lips twitching into a smirk. “yeah, right,” he teased, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. he paused and then added, “i’ve seen it all, you haven’t gotten laid in eighteen years.”

the jibe made your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “i’ll kick your eyes,” you threatened, your voice edged with frustration. jimin raised his hands in mock surrender, a look of exaggerated fear crossing his face. “really?” he asked, his tone a perfect blend of feigned terror and mischief.

you nodded decisively and reached out to slap him, but his reflexes were impossibly quick. he caught your wrist effortlessly, his grip surprisingly firm. you tried to free your hand, but he held it fast. he smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “like that?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur. stunned, you raised your other hand, only to find that he was already there, catching it with equal ease. his strength was undeniable, and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t pull free. “don’t hit me that hard,” he said with a teasing lilt, his smile widening.

you were about to retort when he suddenly moved with a fluid, almost predatory grace. before you could react, he had you pinned against your closet door. your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart race as his face came dangerously close to yours. the proximity was overwhelming; his scent was intoxicating, and the heat of his body pressed against yours made it hard to think.

his smile was both captivating and unsettling. he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “why’s your heart beating so fast?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear.

you gulped, your gaze unable to tear itself away from his striking features. his eyes were mesmerizing, and his closeness made you acutely aware of how pretty he truly was. “because you’re scary,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

jimin scoffed lightly, releasing you with a dramatic flair as if your words had wounded him. “scary? you’re scarier,” he said, feigning offense as he took a step back, allowing you to breathe again.

you rolled your eyes, grateful for the distance, and waved your hand dismissively. “leave me alone. i have homework,” you said, trying to sound authoritative despite the lingering blush on your cheeks. his smile softened as he observed you, his gaze lingering on the flush that had crept up your neck. “homework, huh?” he mused, his tone carrying a hint of mock sympathy. he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heartbeat, and it only seemed to please him more.

you settled into your desk, the weight of the day's events still lingering in your mind. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting a warm, amber hue across the pages of your textbook. you had spread out your notes and textbooks with meticulous care, determined to tackle your calculus homework despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. the air was heavy with the quiet hum of concentration, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of your pencil against the paper.

as you jotted down what you hoped were coherent notes on differential equations, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see jimin’s mischievous grin. but the room remained empty, save for the clutter of your textbooks and papers. just as you resumed your scribbling, a voice broke the silence. “what are you working on?” jimin’s voice was smooth and casual, yet it carried a hint of amusement.

you jumped, nearly knocking over your pencil. “calculus,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you continued to pretend to write notes. the subject matter, filled with complex equations and symbols, seemed even more daunting with his, once again, unexpected presence.

he strolled over with a lazy grace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform jacket. his eyes roamed over your paper with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “do you actually have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern. you glanced up at him, attempting to maintain a facade of confidence. “yes,” you said firmly, though a hint of uncertainty crept into your voice.

jimin’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “are you lying?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as if he were scrutinizing every word you said. you hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. “yes,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, unable to maintain the pretense any longer.

he sighed theatrically, shaking his head with an exaggerated air of disappointment. “lying in the underworld is punishable, you know,” he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “people get their tongues cut out for that.” your eyes widened in alarm, and you gasped, “are you serious?” the very idea of such a gruesome punishment sent shivers down your spine, and you could hardly believe he was being genuine.

jimin stifled a giggle behind his hand, clearly finding your reaction amusing. “oh, absolutely,” he affirmed with a mischievous glint in his eye. you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you muttered, “i can’t wait to go to heaven.”

he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “you’d never see heaven’s gates,” he said dismissively, a hint of derision in his voice. your eyes flashed with indignation as you retorted, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

jimin’s smirk widened. “you’re right,” he admitted, but his tone was far from apologetic. he glanced at your paper, his expression shifting to one of mild interest. “by the way, the answer to that equation is supposed to be squared,” he said, pointing at a particular spot on your paper with a casual air.

you let out a nervous laugh, feeling a wave of relief mixed with embarrassment. you quickly reached for your eraser, smudging out the scarily wrong answer you had previously written. with a trembling hand, you scrawled the correct answer in its place, hoping it would salvage your assignment. jimin watched you with an amused glint in his eye, seemingly delighted by the small victory of having helped you. his presence, though unsettling at times, had a peculiar way of making the mundane aspects of your life feel more bearable.

the clock on your desk ticked slowly as you fought against the drowsiness that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. your calculus homework lay spread out before you, the equations blurring together as you struggled to keep your eyes open. jimin’s presence was a faint, unsettling comfort in the periphery of your awareness. his earlier antics had faded into the background noise of your weary mind.

as you dragged your pencil across the paper, your eyelids grew heavier, and your head bobbed forward in a half-sleepy state. you mumbled aloud, your voice barely more than a tired whisper. “what are you doing here, jimin?”

a soft chuckle came from him, a sound that seemed to curl around you like a warm blanket. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur that brushed against your ear. “do you really wanna know?” he asked, his tone laced with both curiosity and amusement. you nodded groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open. “yes,” you managed to mumble, your voice trailing off as another yawn overtook you.

hia gaze softened, and he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of your desk. “well,” he began, his voice gentle and contemplative, “i’ve always wanted to live my life as a human, in the human world. i get to do that as long as i’m watching over someone.” you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes, the details of his face still fuzzy but recognizable. “why me?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly with exhaustion.

there was a moment of silence as jimin’s expression grew thoughtful. he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. “guess you were the chosen one, they sent me to you,” he said softly, as if the weight of the words carried a hint of destiny. his lips curled into a faint smile, though there was a touch of irritation in his eyes. “i wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t so pretty,” he said with a hint of teasing in his voice. “all you do is cause trouble.”

you let out another yawn, your head nodding forward. “sorry,” you murmured, the apology barely audible as you fought to stay awake. you groaned softly, burying your face in your arms on the desk, too tired to respond. the relentless pull of sleep was too strong, and within moments, you succumbed to it, your breathing evening out as you drifted into a deep, much-needed slumber.

jimin watched you with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. as your breathing became steady and rhythmic, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze lingering on you with an almost wistful expression. he knew it was invasive, to watch you sleep like this, but he couldn’t help himself. there was something undeniably captivating about the way you looked when you were so peaceful and unguarded.

gently, he extended his powers, lifting you with a delicate touch of his mind. the process was effortless for him, and he guided you gently off the desk, ensuring you remained undisturbed. with a subtle concentration, he levitated you through the air, carrying you with the same care one might use to handle a fragile, precious object. he maneuvered you softly through the room, avoiding any obstacles as he floated you to your bed. as you were lowered onto the mattress, he took a moment to adjust the covers around you, tucking them in with a tender touch that belied his usual mischief.

he stood by the side of your bed, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze. you were curled up beneath the covers, your features relaxed and serene. the sight of you, so vulnerable and tranquil, stirred something within him—a curious blend of protectiveness and admiration. despite his role as a being from the underworld, tasked with watching over you and perhaps even unsettling you at times, he found himself captivated by your presence. the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath, it all seemed to weave a kind of magic that he hadn’t expected to encounter.

as you trudged to school the following morning, the familiar hustle and bustle of the crowd provided a modest comfort. the sky above was a muted shade of gray, clouds hanging low as if mirroring the heaviness in your chest. the air was brisk, and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, feeling the chill seep through despite your layers.

upon arriving at school, you approached your locker with a sigh, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering unease from the previous night. however, as you reached your locker, you were startled to see jimin leaning casually against the row of metal lockers, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smirk. he seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his presence as striking and unanticipated as ever.

“slow for someone so thin,” he remarked with a teasing lilt in his voice. his eyes gleamed with mischief, a contrast to the gray morning. “do you ever eat, or is breakfast a myth for you?” you rolled your eyes at his casual tone and retorted, “i had breakfast this morning.” the words came out with more force than you intended, a small, defiant edge in your voice.

jimin’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “liar,” he said, his voice dripping with playful derision. “I can tell you’re lying.”

the truth of his statement was a bitter pill to swallow. you hadn’t felt the pangs of hunger as acutely in recent days, and your appetite had waned significantly since the bullying had started. the constant stress had left you feeling hollow, both physically and emotionally. the comment stung more than you’d care to admit, but you forced yourself to look indifferent.

his gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone now carrying an edge of mock seriousness. “there goes your tongue,” he said suddenly.

your heart skipped a beat at his words. Instinctively, you raised a hand to your mouth, your fingers pressing against your tongue as you felt a wave of panic. you bit down hard, testing to make sure your tongue was still there. the sharp, familiar pain confirmed it was, and you sighed in relief, though the discomfort of his words lingered. jimin’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and mystery. “is it still there?” he inquired, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded vigorously, though the movement was almost imperceptible due to your anxiety. his sigh was almost theatrical, filled with a mock sorrow that didn’t match the amusement in his eyes. “it won’t be for long,” he said cryptically, and without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the school building.

you called out after him, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “what do you mean by that?”

jimin merely waved a hand over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture, his smirk remaining as he walked away. the gesture was both casual and enigmatic, leaving you with more questions than answers. his cryptic remark about your tongue gnawed at your thoughts as you stood by your locker, the sudden absence of his presence leaving an unsettling void despite the childish teasing.

as the class droned on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus, the remnants of last night’s exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. your pen had been moving on autopilot, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep, your head resting heavily on your desk. the soft murmur of your classmates and the occasional rustling of papers seemed far away, a distant backdrop to your restless slumber.

suddenly, a loud voice jolted you awake. “homework, everyone.” the professor announced, his tone authoritative. you gasped, the realization hitting you like a cold splash of water. the panic set in as you scrambled to recall where you had left off. the professor began walking down the aisles, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

when he reached your desk, you fumbled with your notebook, your movements clumsy and disjointed. you retrieved it with a mix of shame and dread, handing it over to him with trembling hands. the professor’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he flipped through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment.

“did you really do all of this?” he asked, incredulous. his eyes were wide as he scanned the pages filled with neatly written answers, each question meticulously addressed and correctly solved.

you blinked, equally puzzled. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to piece together what was happening.

the professor pointed to your notebook. “you’ve completed every single problem correctly,” he said, his voice a mix of amazement and disbelief. “this is impressive.”

you glanced down at the notebook and saw, to your shock, that every question was indeed answered accurately. a wave of confusion washed over you. you hadn’t remembered doing all this work, and the sense of accomplishment felt both foreign and surreal. as you tried to process the unexpected turn of events, you caught sight of jimin across the room. his gaze was fixed on you, and he offered a sly smile. he mouthed the words, “you’re welcome,” with a mischievous glint in his eyes. relief mixed with curiosity bubbled inside you.

the professor congratulated you, his expression softening with approval, and handed your notebook back. you muttered a thank you, still trying to shake off the disorienting sense of having accomplished something you didn’t remember doing.

at lunch, you headed to the cafeteria, hoping to sit with jimin. as you approached the table where you usually met him, your heart sank when you saw taehyung sitting there instead. he looked up as you arrived, and you could see a smirk forming on his lips. “what do you want now?” you asked, your tone weary but guarded.

he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “i promise i won’t do anything,” he said, a hint of playful mischief in his voice. “actually, i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.” you were stunned into silence. the unexpected proposition caught you off guard, leaving you at a loss for words. before you could find a response, haesoo opened her mouth, but her words were cut off by a commanding voice.

“move,” jimin said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise of the cafeteria like a knife.

all three of you turned to see him standing there, his demeanor suddenly shifting from relaxed to intense. his gaze was fixed on taehyung, and he took a step forward with a steely resolve. taehyung’s smirk faltered slightly. “go around,” he said dismissively, “i’m in the middle of something.”

to your shock, his expression darkened. he slammed his tray down on the table, the clatter of metal against plastic loud and jarring. he grabbed taehyung by the collar and pulled him close, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “unless you wanna be in the middle of nowhere, walk away.”

the tension in the air was palpable. taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise, and without another word, he backed away, his earlier bravado gone. he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the space around you suddenly quieter.

you were left in stunned silence, your heart racing. jimin’s transformation from the charming, playful figure to someone so intimidating and cold was jarring. his capacity for sudden, intense aggression scared you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. you tried to ignore him, focusing on your food and conversation with haesoo, not wanting to attract his attention or fall victim to whatever mood he might switch to next.

the walk home was eerily quiet, the usual chatter and clamor of the bustling streets muted by a heavy silence. the afternoon light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly along the pavement. you could hear the rhythmic patter of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, but jimin’s presence beside you added an unusual tension to the otherwise tranquil surroundings.

he had been walking silently next to you for a while, his stride effortlessly matching yours. his presence, though subdued, was impossible to ignore. he seemed to be waiting for you to say something, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. finally, he broke the silence. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying edge that suggested he was genuinely interested.

you gave a dismissive wave of your hand and forced a small smile. “nothing,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than you felt. jimin’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. “you must think i’m stupid if you’re gonna brush it off like that,” he said, his voice laced with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. “i was just thinking. thanks for doing my homework, by the way.” jimin’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’re welcome. i’m nice like that.”

you paused, considering his words. “but there was no reason to be so cruel to taehyung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “really? were you actually gonna go on a date with that asshole?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

you contemplated his question, trying to remember how you’d felt about taehyung’s offer. “maybe,” you said jokingly. his eyes widened with incredulity. “your tongue’s on the verge,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

you gasped in mock horror and instinctively placed your hand over your mouth, as if to shield it from his prying. “stay away from my tongue,” you pleaded with a blend of annoyance and playfulness. jimin merely chuckled. “no promises,” he said, his tone light and teasing. this caused you to walk with your hand still covering your mouth, a futile gesture that did little to ease the odd sensation his presence brought.

when you reached your front door, you felt a sudden tug on the hand on your mouth. you spun around to confront jimin, ready to give him a piece of your mind. but as you turned, he was gone. the sudden absence of his presence was startling, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion.

“asshole,” you muttered under your breath, the word barely escaping your lips as you glanced around to make sure he wasn’t lingering nearby. the street was empty, save for a few stray leaves skittering along the sidewalk, and there was no sign of jimin. with a resigned sigh, you pushed open the front door and slipped inside, the familiar warmth of your home a welcome contrast to the unsettling events of the day. you walked straight to your room, the encounter with jimin still fresh in your mind. the door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep breath.

the room was cloaked in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. the steady hum of your ceiling fan created a comforting backdrop as you sat on the edge of your bed, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disquiet. jimin’s unpredictable behavior had been gnawing at you. one moment, he was charming and helpful, and the next, he was cold and menacing. the abrupt change in his demeanor was unsettling, and the weight of it made you uneasy. you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off the troubling thoughts.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on the tv. the screen flickered to life, and you absentmindedly began channel surfing, your mind not fully engaged with the images flashing before you. but then, a news anchor’s stern face filled the screen, and you were abruptly pulled into the broadcast. “—tragedy that has shaken the community. the bodies of oh mina and jung hana, two missing students, have yet to be found, and authorities now presume them dead. the search continues, but their families are left in agonizing uncertainty.”

you froze, your heart sinking as the anchor continued with a detailed recap of the events. the broadcast went on to describe the search efforts, the emotional pleas from their families, and the growing sense of despair that had settled over the community. the words felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, and a surge of guilt began to eat away at you. mina and hana had been cruel, yes, but no one deserved this. the thought of their families—worrying, grieving, and facing a future without their loved ones—made you feel sick. you found yourself grappling with the dissonance between their past actions and the very real, very human suffering unfolding now.

as you absorbed the gravity of the news, a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, chilling and disturbingly calm. “they got what they deserved,” jimin’s voice said, as though he had materialized out of thin air. he stepped into view, leaning casually against the door frame, his gaze fixated on the tv screen. “it’s a shame they aren’t actually dead.”

you turned to him, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “how can you say something so cruel?” you demanded, the hurt and anger evident in your voice. “how can you be so heartless?”

his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s always been an eye for an eye,” he retorted coldly. “they were awful to you. why should they get any sympathy?”

a surge of frustration erupted within you. “and what about their families?” you asked, the words coming out in a rush. “do you have any idea how they must feel?”

jimin snapped, his tone edged with bitterness. “they should’ve raised them better,” he shot back. “maybe then they wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”

you were taken aback by his callousness. “you’re awful,” you said, unable to keep the scorn from your voice. “i can’t believe how heartless you really are.”

jimin’s demeanor shifted abruptly. he walked over and sat down beside you on your bed, his movements deliberate and measured. he looked at you with an intensity that was almost palpable, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “i did it for you,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its earlier bite. “because i cared for you.”

you looked at him, struggling to reconcile this softer side of him with the cruelty you’d just witnessed. “i don’t need a savior,” you said quietly, shaking your head. the weight of the day’s events and jimin’s complex personality were starting to feel overwhelming. his face softened, and for a moment, his expression was filled with a kind of sadness that seemed almost genuine. he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and almost tender. in his eyes, you saw something akin to heartbreak.

“okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “if that’s what you say.”

without another word, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dim light of your room. the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of the harsh words and the complexities of his character. you sat there, feeling the weight of his absence and the lingering discomfort of his presence. the room seemed emptier now, and you were left with a tumult of emotions and unanswered questions.

the night stretched long and restless as you tossed and turned beneath your tangled sheets, your mind an endless swirl of confusion and disquiet. your bed seemed to have become a cage, its confines growing tighter with each passing minute. the darkness of the room was punctuated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting fleeting shadows that danced unsettlingly on the walls.

you reached out in the darkness, searching for the comforting presence you had come to rely on. but tonight, there was nothing. no whisper of jimin’s voice, no flicker of his enigmatic smile—just an overwhelming silence that pressed against you like a heavy blanket. you called out his name, your voice barely more than a strained whisper in the stillness of the night. “jimin?” you croaked, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet.

the silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to stretch on forever, growing thicker and more suffocating with each passing moment. you strained to listen for any sign of him, but there was nothing—no rustle, no breath, no hint of his presence. desperation clawed at you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep, hoping that he would return with the dawn.

morning came, but with it, there was no sign of jimin. you woke with a start, the emptiness of your room a reminder of his absence. the space beside you on the bed was untouched, the air still and untroubled. you groaned, the reality of his disappearance settling heavily upon you. the morning routine was carried out on autopilot, the small tasks seeming to blur together as you prepared for school.

arriving at school, you felt the weight of his absence more acutely. the hallways, usually bustling with energy and life, felt hollow and empty. you walked through them with a growing sense of dread, your eyes scanning the familiar faces for any sign of jimin. but he was nowhere to be found. not in the crowded corridors, not in your classroom, not even in the places he had been known to linger.

you approached haesoo at lunch, a flicker of hope driving your steps. you needed to know if anyone else had seen him, if there was any chance he would reappear. “hey, haesoo,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety you felt. “have you seen jimin today?”

she looked up from her lunch with a puzzled expression. “jimin? no, i haven’t seen him. why? you two seemed pretty close. he was kind of like your protector, wasn’t he?” you shook your head, trying to quell the gnawing worry in your stomach. “he isn’t,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. “he’s my savior.”

the rest of the school day passed in a blur of gray and disinterest. the absence of jimin cast a shadow over everything, and you found it difficult to focus on the lessons or the conversations around you. It was almost as if the world had lost some of its color without him. when the final bell rang, you walked home with a heavy heart. each step felt like a step further away from the fleeting hope you had clung to. you tried to convince yourself that his absence was due to the lack of need, that perhaps he was simply giving you space. but deep down, you knew it was more than that. you had made him go away, whether intentionally or not, and the realization left you feeling hollow and uncertain.

as you neared your house, you saw haesoo walking beside you, her expression bright and expectant. “so, what do you think?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “wanna hit the club tonight? it could be a lot of fun.” you considered it for a moment, your spirits lifted slightly by the prospect of distraction. “sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, trying to push aside the nagging emptiness you felt.

when you reached home, haesoo followed you inside. you found your mother in the kitchen, busy with the evening’s preparations. “mom, is it okay if i go to the club with haesoo tonight?” you asked, attempting to sound casual.

your mother glanced up from her task, her face thoughtful. “if she’s going,” she said with a dismissive wave, “you can go to the underworld for all i care.”

the words struck you like a chill, freezing the air around you. the mention of the underworld made your blood run cold, a sharp reminder of the dark and mysterious presence you had grown to both fear and depend on. you exchanged a look with haesoo, who seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but chose to remain silent. you forced a smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “thanks, mom.”

the evening was a muted whirl of apprehension and fleeting hope as you prepared for the night out. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm hues over the meticulously arranged wardrobe. you stood before the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection as you adjusted the sleek black dress that clung to your frame. it was a classic choice, understated yet elegant, but tonight, it felt lacking—an empty vessel yearning for validation you could not quite grasp.

you turned this way and that, trying to find satisfaction in your appearance. the dress, with its delicate fabric and subtle sheen, was perfect in its own right. but it felt as if something crucial was missing. your mind wandered to the image of him, the elusive presence that had once been a source of comfort and assurance. the empty space beside you in the mirror seemed to echo with his absence, and the longing for his approval gnawed at you with an intensity that left you feeling hollow.

with a deep sigh, you slipped your heels on, their click against the hardwood floor a sharp contrast to the muted sense of resignation you felt inside. daehyun’s voice broke through your reverie. “call if anything happens,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of concern. you nodded absentmindedly, giving him a half-hearted smile before heading out the door.

the night air was crisp and cool as you caught a cab to the club. the city lights blurred by the window seemed to race past you, each passing moment amplifying the sense of anticipation and uncertainty that clung to you. when you arrived, haesoo was waiting outside, her excitement palpable as she greeted you with a bright smile.

the club was alive with an electric energy, the pulsating lights and thumping bass creating an intoxicating atmosphere. haesoo led you inside, her hand firmly clasped around yours as you navigated through the crowd. “loosen up,” she urged, her voice barely audible over the music. “have a drink. it’ll help you relax.”

you allowed yourself one drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat and momentarily easing the tension in your shoulders. you clutched the glass tightly, savoring the brief reprieve it offered as you observed the throng of bodies swaying rhythmically on the dance floor. the music was a relentless beat, each pulse a reminder of the vitality you felt slipping away. as you sipped your drink, a tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. you turned around, half-expecting to see jimin’s familiar, mischievous smile. instead, you were met with the gaze of an unfamiliar man. he had a confident demeanor, his eyes appraising you with an intensity that set your nerves on edge.

“you’re a gem,” he said, his voice smooth and insistent. “would you like to dance?” you offered a polite smile, shaking your head as you replied, “no, thank you. i’d prefer to stay here.”

undeterred, the man pressed on. “come on, don’t be shy. it’ll be fun.” you declined again, but his persistence quickly turned into forcefulness. before you could fully react, he grabbed your hand with a firm grip, pulling you towards the dance floor. you resisted, trying to free yourself from his grasp, but his other hand reached out to grab your jaw. his touch was rough and invasive as he forced you to look at him. “you’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

panic surged through you, but before you could cry out for help or struggle further, the man was abruptly thrown backward. he collided with the wall across the room with a violent thud, the impact reverberating through the space. the music abruptly stopped, plunging the club into a stunned silence as gasps spread through the crowd.

your heart raced, but as you watched the man slump against the wall, his head hanging limply, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you knew—had always known—that he was still there. the subtle, yet unmistakable, presence that had become so familiar to you was now unmistakable in the man’s sudden, forceful removal.

the crowd was a sea of shocked expressions, their murmurs rising in a crescendo of disbelief. you stood amidst them, your gaze locked on the spot where the man had fallen, feeling a profound sense of relief and, oddly enough, satisfaction. you could not see him, but his protective presence was unmistakable, the unspoken assurance that he was watching over you even now.

the night clung to you like a heavy blanket as you made your way home, the darkness of the streets mirroring the turmoil inside your heart. the taxi dropped you off at the curb, the hum of the engine fading into the background as you stood before your front door, fumbling with your keys. your hands trembled slightly, the chill of the midnight air seeping into your bones, and you struggled to fit the key into the lock. after what felt like an eternity, the lock finally clicked open, and you pushed the door open with a soft creak.

the house was enveloped in silence, your family long since retired to bed. the only sounds were the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the darkness and the quiet thud of your heels against the wooden floor as you hurried up the stairs. excitement surged through you as you reached your room. with a flick of the switch, the room was bathed in warm light, but your excitement quickly turned to crushing disappointment. the room was empty.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the breath leaving your lungs in a quiet, defeated sigh. you had hoped, prayed even, that he would be there, waiting for you as he always had been. but the room was devoid of that familiar presence, and the weight of his absence settled heavily on your chest.

you let the door swing shut behind you as you sank onto your bed, the soft mattress barely registering beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. the tears came unbidden, spilling down your cheeks in hot, silent streams as you whispered into the empty room, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for making you go away.”

the words broke the silence, and you felt the sobs rising within you, shaking your small frame as you struggled to keep them quiet. you pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. the pain was too much, too raw, and it poured out of you in ragged breaths as you continued, “i’m sorry for saying i didn’t need you. i do, i really do, jimin.”

the room remained still, the silence that followed your confession only deepening the ache in your chest. you felt like you were falling into an endless abyss, the darkness and loneliness closing in around you until it was almost suffocating. you cried harder, the tears blurring your vision as you clutched your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you tried to find some semblance of comfort.

and then, just as the despair threatened to consume you entirely, a voice—familiar and tinged with amusement—cut through the silence. “you’re ruining your makeup.”

your head snapped up so fast you almost felt dizzy, your heart leaping into your throat as you searched the room with wide, tear-filled eyes. and there he was, standing by the window, the corners of his lips curled into that playful smile that made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t help yourself. you were off the bed and across the room in an instant, throwing yourself into his arms with such force that you nearly knocked him over. he let out a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

“you must’ve really missed me,” he teased, his voice a gentle murmur against the top of your head. you nodded against him, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming relief that washed over you. “i’m so sorry,” you managed to choke out, the words coming out in a rush, desperate to make him understand. “i didn’t mean it, jimin. i didn’t mean any of it.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache, but his next words were laced with playful teasing, “i don’t know if i can forgive you,” he said, feigning hurt. your frown deepened as more tears pooled in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you whispered, “i’m sorry, i’ll do anything, jimin. anything.”

he peered at you from the corner of his eye, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to think it over. “anything?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes watching you intently. you nodded without hesitation, willing to do whatever it took to make things right between you.

a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he pointed to his cheek. “give me a kiss.”

you didn’t hesitate. you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way that nothing else could. but before you could pull back, he turned his head, and your lips met his in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. he smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile too, the weight of your earlier sadness lifting as you melted into him. the kiss was soft and sweet, a silent promise that you had been forgiven. but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race, a sense of longing that neither of you could ignore.

when you finally broke the kiss, you looked up at him, your eyes searching his as you whispered, “don’t go anywhere ever again.” his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he replied, “i won’t, i promise.”

the words were barely out of his mouth before his lips were on yours again, this time more urgent, more demanding. you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the kiss deepening until you were both breathless. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him as the intensity of the moment grew. the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own creation, where nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours, and the unspoken connection that bound you together.

breathy gasps filled the air as the kiss became more intense, more desperate. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer as the world around you continued to disappear. on that moment, nothing else mattered—no doubts, no fears, no regrets. there was only him, only you, and the undeniable pull between you that refused to be denied.

his fingertips trailed down your sides, reaching the hem of your shirt, and with one smooth motion, he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside to expose your braless tits. your nipples pebbled at the sudden coolness of the air, and jimin’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. “so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

you reached for the button of his pants, fumbling with the zipper as you felt his hands move to the back of your neck, tracing the skin with his nails, his eyes feasting on your naked tits. his gaze was hungry, and it made you feel powerful, desired. without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing as you took his hardening cock into your hand.

his breath hitched as you leaned in, your hot breath ghosting over the tip before you took him into your mouth. jimin’s hands found your hair, his grip tightening as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around him, exploring every inch of his length. you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him and making his knees tremble. his moans grew more intense, his words a mix of praise and demand as he guided your head, pushing deeper into your mouth.

his eyes never left yours as he watched you, the way your cheeks hollowed out, the way your tongue danced around him. “so good to me,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “but i know what you really want, don’t i?” you pulled back, panting, and nodded. you knew exactly what he wanted. without another word, you stood up, and together you moved to the bed, his hand never leaving the small of your back, guiding you, claiming you. your heart raced as you felt the mattress dip beneath you, his weight pressing you into the softness.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body as if it was the first time, because it was. every touch felt new, every kiss a revelation. he pulled your panties down, his eyes never leaving yours as he exposed your vulnerable pussy to him. your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves. he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever have you like this.”

his mouth found your clit, and you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to lick and suck. the sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his face, desperate for more. he chuckled against you, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “you’re so eager,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “it’s almost obvious you're a virgin.”

you moaned in response, unable to form a coherent argument as he worked his magic. your body tensed, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable, and then with one slick thumb sliding into your ass, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the waves of pleasure, feeling him licking up every drop of your arousal as your pussy spasmed around his thumb.

when you finally opened your eyes, jimin was hovering over you, his own pants and boxers a discarded mess on the floor. the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, and he smirked down at you, his eyes full of mischief. “came for me just like that, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded, unable to form words, and he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. you were tight around him, your body untouched by anyone else, and he took his time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely.

his hips began to move, slow and deliberate, and you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss as he whispered, “i’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, you know that?” you didn’t care about the pain. you only cared about the way he felt inside of you, about the way his kiss made you feel alive. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing more of him as he broke through your barrier with a gentle but firm thrust. a gasp tore from your throat, but it was quickly followed by a moan as pleasure began to overtake the initial discomfort.

jimin’s eyes never left yours as he began to move in earnest, his hips sliding in and out of you with an ease that belied the tightness of your grip on him. you could feel your body adjusting to him, stretching and clinging to him like a second skin. the filth that left his mouth grew more intense, his words a filthy litany that had you squirming and whimpering beneath him. “fuck, i love you. only mine, no one else's.” he growled, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

your orgasm built again, more intense than the first. your pussy was slick with arousal, and with every thrust, he hit that perfect spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch. he was relentless, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, nipping and sucking as he claimed you in every way possible. and then, just as the tension was about to snap, he slammed into you, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you were coming apart, your body shaking with the force of it.

you felt him swell inside of you, his cock pulsing as he reached his own climax, filling you with his warmth. he groaned your name against your neck, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into you. the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a mix of pleasure and possession that had you clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

when it was over, you lay there, panting and trembling, your body still fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm. jimin kissed you softly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever touch you like this, remember that.” you nodded, your voice a mere whisper as you promised, “only you, jimin. only ever you.” he pulled out, and you felt the sticky warmth of his cum trickling down your thighs.

he lay beside you, pulling you into his arms, your bodies entwined as the last of the adrenaline slowly drained away. your heart was still racing, but it was a good kind of scared, the kind that came from knowing you had just given yourself to someone who would protect you with every fiber of his being. you knew he was from the underworld, that he had come to protect you, and in that moment, you had never felt safer.

after a few moments of quiet, he smirked and broke the silence with a question that took you by surprise. “was that really your first time?” his voice was low, slightly teasing, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity there that made you raise an eyebrow. you scoffed lightly, still feeling the lingering warmth from the kiss. “yeah,” you replied with a hint of sarcasm, “my first time just happened to be with a demon from the underworld.” the words were meant to be a joke, but the moment they left your lips, you realized how bizarrely true they were.

jimin propped himself up on his elbows, feigning offense as he stared at you with mock indignation. “how could you be so cruel as to call me that?” he asked, his tone playful but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made you want to tease him further just to see where it would lead.

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension from earlier easing into something lighter, more playful. “you’re right,” you conceded, your voice softening as you leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the brief contact sent a familiar warmth through you, and when you pulled back, you locked eyes with him and continued, “you’re not a demon. you’re my savior.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. for a moment, you both stayed like that, the intensity of your earlier exchange lingering in the quiet space. his gaze softened, the teasing glint fading into something more serious as he studied your face, as if committing every detail to memory. he sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing a gentle path down your cheek before coming to rest under your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “your savior, huh?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something almost sad in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that you rarely saw from him.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you held his gaze. “yeah,” you whispered back, your voice filled with a sincerity that left no room for doubt. “you’ve always been there for me, even when i didn’t want you to be. you saved me, jimin.” the admission hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you both. you saw the way his expression shifted, the playful mask he usually wore slipping away to reveal something raw and unguarded beneath it. his eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your breath catch in your throat.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you had left unsaid. then, finally, jimin leaned in, closing the small distance between you as he captured your lips in a kiss that was softer, gentler than before. there was no urgency this time, no desperation—just the quiet, undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “i don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone again. you understand that, right?” you nodded, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name as you whispered back, “i understand.”

he smiled at that, a small, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “because i’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of his presence envelop you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand grounding you in the moment. and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace—like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. eventually, he shifted, pulling you closer as he lay back down, his arms encircling you protectively. you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. as you lay there, your thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened—the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss when you thought he was gone for good. but now, in his arms, all of that seemed to fade away, replaced by a certainty that you couldn’t quite explain but knew to be true.

jimin was your savior. and as long as he was by your side, you knew that you would be okay.

✧.*

a/n: this was so cute can't wait to go back to jackson wang cameos and angst

[nikethestatue]

@elainarcheronweek Day 3 "Strength"

Elain Archeron's strength is the matriarchal strength of all women throughout history.

Her strength lies in her ability to find the best in every situation. To bring warmth and connection between people. It's the strength of rising up from adversity and moving forward.

Her strength is in learning new skills, and seeking the wisdom of other women in trying to find her place in the new world.

Her strength is in feeding those she loves and in making the world more beautiful. She bought Feyre paints because she knew that it would give Feyre joy, but also, would make their drab existence a bit brighter, a little prettier.

Elain's strength is in cultivating life, in growing gardens, in seeding the earth so it would bring forth fruit and abundance.

Her strength is in creation, and not destruction.

Her strength is in her ability to do what's needed in the moment, and then walking away and not seeking praise or platitudes. It's giving credit where credit is due--to the twins, for example, who decorated the cake for Feyre's birthday.

Her strength is in noticing those around her--their sadness and their happiness, their pains and their smiles. Her strength is in buying blankets for the twins and 'swaddling' them in love and affection. It's in healing Azriel. It's in giving Nesta peace and happiness within her books. It's giving Feyre what she loves to be the outlet for her creativity and her emotions.

Elain is the thread that binds them together. She is the keeper of the hearth. She is the one who understood the importance of holidays and traditions before anyone else, and sought to incorporate them in her own life. She sits at the head of the table because without her, it's every man for himself, but with her, they become a true family.

The story of Elain, is the story of strength of all women--strength that is often overlooked and forgotten and taken for granted. Because people only remember those who built a house, but not those who made it a home and filled it with life.

[schattencat]

Take a moment to appreciate the hot Evanuris. So far, we've had our merry encounters with Fen'Harel, Mythal, and Ghilan'nain (and potentially Elgar'nan). The number of people who want to romance them is wild.

If we're already salivating over the rebellious sad puppy and the elegant evil bioengineer with tentacles, I can't help but wonder what the others, who haven't showed up yet, will be like??

Think about the ruthless strikes of Andruil, the greatest hunter ever. And her beef with Fen'Harel.

Think about Falon'din, fierce and surrounded by wings of death, wielding the power of darkness and the Fade.

Think about Dirthamen, the mysterious keeper of ancient secrets and wisdom, Falon'din's twin spirit.

Think about Sylaise's rivalry with the other Evanuris and the heat of her fire.

Think about the sharp wit of Clever June, master of formidable crafts and weapons.

Maybe I'm losing my mind here but BioWare please I want to romance know each and every one of them!!

[evanhereonearth]

Banal Nadas

I wrote this literally years ago, but it actually became canon, so beware spoilers for Veilguard. (I feel powerful, lmao.)

Ilaana Lavellan meets a spirit in the Fade in a moment of anguish--a spirit with a lesson to help her save her beloved.

***

“It was not supposed to happen this way,” the spirit breathes, and it sounds so like him that I am rooted to this patch of the Fade.

“His words,” I say softly, looking around as if I will see his eyes upon me, as I so often have.

“Yes,” the spirit says. “You are here now, and it has happened this way.”

“This is also correct.”

I am in a vast forest, the Brecilian Forest, I think, though I have never seen it in life.

“To find interesting parts of the Fade, one must be interesting.”

“Also his words.” I look at the spirit curiously. It hovers between two enormous ironbarks, titans in their presence, the two trees so close they should never have grown to such size.

The metaphor sinks in a moment too late. I wince.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”

Curiosity will quickly become annoyance. I move onward, trying to hold tight to my purpose tonight. I’m running out of time. I’m running out of time.

“Var lath vir suledin!” The spirit is anguished, as I was anguished when I said the words.

I stop. “My words. Why?”

“In another world.” Something of this spirit clearly relates to me and Solas so strongly it seems to want to regurgitate much of our most painful conversations.

“I’ll bite,” I tell it. “Why not this one?”

“You are asking better questions,” the spirit says.

It turns away, in a different direction than I planned to go, but I have made friends with Acceptance, Compassion, Wisdom, Hope. I have even soothed Despair into Resolve. Apathy into Purpose. I am a Dreamer, now, in full. If I am not so skilled as Solas, well. Empires and nations rose and fell while he learnt what I have tried to cobble together in a handful of years with a ticking clock ready to explode the world. Demons come to me to find themselves. Sometimes they try to kill me. Usually I reach for them, and they change. Sometimes they change me, bit by bit.

If this spirit wants me to follow, I will follow.

It moves down a path between trees, and it gains form as I watch, but it holds nothing for long. It looks like him for a moment, then it looks like me. I see him as I saw him in Redcliffe, in Haven, in the ruins, over the broken fragments of his orb. I see myself with my vallaslin, without it. I see myself and Cullen, eyes full of love, under an arch at Halamshiral with Mother Giselle there to marry us. I am wearing a white dress, such a human dress, such a human thing, but with my long-gone vallaslin clear on my face. I am dressed as a sentinel, a Sha-Brytol, a Keeper, a scout. I am resplendent in robes of gold and silver, my hair sparkling with diamonds like stars. He stands proud, Fen’Harel, a rebel god who loves me. My freckles are gone. My freckles are darker, my skin tanned and weathered by the sun. Scars cut through my face. I am missing part of an ear. Solas is scarred with red lyrium that clouds his eyes.

I want to ask, but not yet.

Instead, I simply follow.

The trees give way to the Arbor Wilds, miles and miles away. I know this place. This is where I met Mythal.

“You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, Dread Wolf.”

The spirit looks like her for a moment, and then she is him, as I last saw him before the Qunari plot. He must have traveled by eluvian from Skyhold immediately after we vanquished Corypheus.

He is a broken man, for a moment. He still wears the jawbone I now carry around my neck.

“I wish it could, vhenan.”

This spirit seems to want to speak with our words, so I will let it. With a thought I am crosslegged in the grass, my fingers feeling the blades. They are so green here, as green as they are in life. The Black City is beyond, over the tree line, waiting.

“Tell me you don’t love me!”

“I cannot do that, vhenan.”

I thought I was somewhat prepared, armoured. But that—

Solas stands in front of me in Crestwood, his hands twitching between looking as though he wants to simultaneously crush me to him and fend me off. He is frightened, flighty, two things Solas seldom is.

The spirit reflects that moment, showing me again the precise moment my heart broke, when Solas decided to be Fen’Harel and not tell me himself.

“You do not have to destroy this world! I will prove it to you!”

My voice, thrown by the spirit, echoes through this bower.

“I will treasure the chance to be wrong once again,” it says sadly.

“Foolish wolf,” I mutter myself.

“There is a place where you can build, grow.”

I am growing weary of whatever games this spirit is playing. I relive these words in my mind every day, every grain of sand that ticks through the hourglass counting down to the moment I will have to face…I have no words for what Solas is to me. Some days I trace the lines of magic that remain in my severed arm, feeling out for the Anchor. Those days I hear him ask if it has changed me, my…spirit, as he hesitated to say with the sun setting behind me on my Skyhold balcony.

What if it did? What if the Anchor is the only reason I love him?

“You are you, old blood older than old. Like calls to like even without a cord to bind them.”

The spirit has resumed its state of formlessness, floated closer while I sat in my pool of constant grief.

“Very well,” I tell it. “Why have you brought me here?”

“Banal nadas,” it says, hovering directly in front of my face like a challenge. It is not Solas’s voice I hear, but mine, gentle. I have never said those words, not like that.

“Banal nadas!” The spirit bellows it at me with my own voice again.

My skin tingles like I am in the waking world in a place where the Veil is thin. I have never felt such a thing whilst walking the Fade, not as such.

“I want to help him,” I tell the spirit fiercely. “Our people have suffered enough.”

“Who are your people, Ilaana?”

“That is the question, is it not?” This time it is I who bring Solas’s words to life, another sentence from a Crestwood heartbreak under the watchful gaze of Ghilan’nain. My lips quirk with a cynical smile. “Solas is my people. Cullen is my people. Cassandra and Cole are my people. My friends on this side of the Veil are my people. You, as well. Dorian, my beloved friend. Varric. The Iron Bull. Sera and Vivienne and Thom. Krem and Maryden, Dalish and Grim. Svarah Sun-Hair and Skywatcher. They are my people, spirit. All of them. Abelas is my people. Mythal is my people. Clan Lavellan is my people. Briala. Charter. Samson. Leliana and Neria and Merrill and Hawke. Alistair is my people. The Wardens I exiled are my people. The templars I condemned are my people. Ser Barris. Belle. Gaspard. Mihris. That bloody piece of self-loathing nugshit Michel is my people. Felix and Alexius. Gatt and the Viddisala. Elera and Dagna and Valta and her titan friend. Rage and Despair and Pride and Wisdom and Acceptance and Justice and Vengeance. They are all my people. All.”

I am angry now, angry enough that I feel the energies blazing off me like a pyre. If Solas is walking the Fade just now, he will certainly see me, feel me. We never have had to try hard to find one another here, and I am screaming in an echoing hall loud enough to wake Elgar’nan himself. That stupid prideful Evanuris who likely started all of this, he is my people too, for all he’d scrape me off the bottom of his gilded fucking boot.

“Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Dread Wolf? Dirth ma, harellan, vhen’an’ara—ane emma!” I yell the words into the Arbor Wilds, at the Black City, at any spirit who will listen. “You are all my people, and I am trying to save your foolish, thoughtless chunks of Fade-stuff and meat from yourselves!”

The spirit in front of me looks suddenly pleased.

“An answer a long time in coming, Inquisitor,” the spirit says, almost preening.

“Who are you?” I ask it bluntly. “I am tired of trying to help those who are determined to cut off their own feet because they don’t like the shape of their toenails.”

“Vivid, as always.”

“I asked you a question.”

“You asked a good question. I brought you here to hear, to listen, to scream. Has it helped?”

“A bit,” I admit. I feel lighter. Apparently my quiet footsteps through the Fade were possible because I’ve been bottling up every part of me for so long.

“Good,” says the spirit. “You asked my name, and I will give it. But first, you need to understand the most important thing I have said to you.”

“Which is?”

“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again.

“That one isn’t leaving my memory any time soon,” I say. “Your name, if you please.”

“You carry a heavy weight, as you have for so long, Ilaana. Your name, Ilaana. In the place of sacrifice. How much have you sacrificed?”

“Enough,” I say. My arm twinges. That is the least of it. I am no less than I was for a foot or so of missing flesh. The words I said to Ameridan. It takes everything from you.

“You look ahead with purpose, and you look ahead with grief, because the weight pressing upon your shoulders does not let you breathe.” The spirit looks like me, now. My face, without my vallaslin, with my freckles, the new scar on my nose from some Qunari Sten or another. My dimple. “You cannot see a way out.”

We are back in the forest, a different forest, and the trees are oppressive. They crowd around us, leaning over my shoulder, draping their leaves over my neck. I can almost feel their breath.

“You are telling me everything I already know.”

“You may remember the words, but you need to know, truly know. Eolasas, da’len.”

It changes to Solas’s face in Redcliffe, his eyes pulsing with red lyrium. Its voice repeats his words.

“You would think that such understanding would prevent me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.”

Anger flares again. I am surprised that this place has not been swarmed with spirits. The trees could very well be rage demons, every one.

“I couldn’t stop him,” I tell the spirit, and with those words, my anger cracks in half. In its core is only sorrow. “He left. He left again. He left again, and he called me vhenan.”

“Yes,” the spirit says. “He has done these things. Over and over, he has done these things. He is as trapped as you are. But the trap is of your own making. Time is no flat circle, da’len. You are thinking in too few dimensions.”

I sit in silence for a time, feeling at the edges of my hurt. I long for Cole’s comforting presence. He is somewhere in the Fade. I suspect he is with Solas. He told me he had to go where he was most needed. Or perhaps Cole is simply with the other spirits, sharing himself with them, preparing them. Where he is most needed. That would be a very Cole thing to do.

Everything that has happened has happened. I could not stop it.

“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again, insistently. “You make a tragic mistake, Inquisitor. Ilaana, da’len, da’lath’in. You must listen. You must see. What are all of these voices, save one?”

The one the spirit is speaking of must be my own, yelling its words. The rest are—

“Memories,” I say flatly. “Reminders of my own failures. I should have told him in Crestwood that I knew—”

“He would have fled. Likely, anyway. Banal nadas,” the spirit says, this time almost as if a joke. “Your instinct held your tongue because you knew him to be afraid. You yourself were afraid, thought you could keep him near a while longer, that it would give you time you had no way of knowing was running out.”

“Yes,” I say. “And then he was gone.”

The weight of the jawbone against my chest is usually a comfort, even in the Fade. Not now, not really.

“What is a memory?” The spirit asks me this as if it is speaking to a very dense rock instead of a person.

“A fragment of perception rooted in a moment in time that has passed,” I say.

“Time that has—” the spirit leads.

“Passed.” I stop, looking at it. It looks like me again, hopeful. It looks like I looked when he asked me to dance at Halamshiral, that horrible night, that wonderful night, that night that gutted me from the inside and built me anew all at once.

The night I learned my lover's true names.

“Before the band stops playing, vhenan, dance with me.”

His hand outstretched to me, his smile full of love. Moments before, the easy pressure of his hand against my shoulder, a comfort, knowing I needed his touch more than anything else.

“The past,” I say slowly. “Banal nadas.”

“Yes,” the spirit says, and the trees pull back from their crowding, letting through a burst  of air, cool air, memory of a spring breeze. “You carry the weight of it, and you let it lead you, but you are letting it press you into the ground, da’len. You are like him. Like calls to like. His past weighs him as well, and it will crush you both, the past, if you let it.”

“You make it sound like…” I trail off.

I’m being obtuse, now. Of course I’m being obtuse.

It is easier to believe I cannot prevent whatever happens. It is easier believing, accepting, resigning myself to fatalism. Whatever will be will be. I remember what Acceptance said to me so long ago, that it could see many paths for itself without becoming any one of them. I have forgotten that wisdom. I have let myself become the one thing I cannot bear because some part of me thinks it is easier than believing I could build it better instead.

“I am frightened,” I say. “He said he walks the din’an shiral. He chose for me, and I am furious at him. He said he could not do this to me, but he will do it to himself. He says he will, and he condemns me to accept it. But what he accepts, I do not have to.”

“Yes, da’len, continue.”

“I am afraid.” Afraid does not even come close to what I feel. I am half a breath from shaking to pieces.

“I know, da’len.” The spirit looks like Keeper Deshanna now. It sits in front of me wearing June’s vallaslin.

“I have said I will save him, that I will prove to him, but I haven’t believed it. I haven’t been able to believe it.”

“Your love for him is so deep that it reached me in the farthest depths of the Fade,” the spirit says softly. “You are on the shore watching a hundred-foot wave threaten to crush you, and you believe if you run, if you fight, if you try and do something, it will wash you away no matter what. It is easier for you to believe that what is past will dictate what is future.”

“Yes,” I say. “You are correct.”

“But that is not how anything works, da’len. It may seem it sometimes, but do you know what it took for him to see you at all? How many ages he lay sleeping in sorrow, walking paths with friends but seeing nothing of himself wherever he looked?”

I shake my head.

The grove around us is quiet, peaceful now. It is the grove in the Dales, the one where we once moved together with our magic, our mana, our staves. It is the grove where he gave me his glyph-chilled water and I wiped a droplet of it away from my cheek and he told me that he had yet to see my indomitable focus dominated.

I wonder if it has been as fascinating as he expected, watching me crumble under our combined pasts.

“A thousand thousand variables, a weave of time and circumstance more delicate than the Veil itself,” the spirit says. “You are real, and it changes everything, but it can’t. Do you not hear the contradiction in his own words?”

“Yes,” I say.

“You are real, da’len. You are real, and you change everything.”

His words, and the spirit’s. They mould to something in me that I have not felt in months. I have felt this future bearing down on me like the wave in the spirit’s metaphor, ready to crush the life out of me, out of my people—our people—and the person I love enough to save. I have waited for him enough. Atisha, Ilaana.

I breathe slowly, my mind clearing. His words, to me. In hindsight they feel both inevitable and deeply cracked, waiting to be moved in another direction.

“Yes,” I say, this time because it is the only right word to say. “Thank you. Thank you, hahren.”

“Nuvu lasa su ma enaste, da’len.”

“Why have you done this for me?” I ask. It still has not told me its name.

“You are not the only one who loves him,” the spirit says simply. “I would not watch him suffer more. I would not watch the weight he carries grow. And he is not the only one who loves you, da’len. I would be remiss if I did not try.”

“You are saying—”

“I am saying banal nadas.”

Yes. Yes.

Banal nadas.

Nothing is inevitable.

“Thank you,” I say again. “Ma melava halani.”

“Sathem lasa halani,” the spirit says. “And now you must go. You have a great deal of work to do.”

“Wait,” I say as the spirit rises, once again formless, shifting every time I blink. “You promised me your name.”

I wait for a moment, wondering if it will be Hope. Faith. Even Love, something as simple as that.

The spirit looks like him once more, and it reaches out to touch my cheek the way he so often has. It tugs his favourite curl.

“Possibility,” the spirit says.

I wake.

***

Lavellan: Banal nadas. Ar lath, ma vhenan.

[gaiasgrimoire]

HEKATE - Ἑκάτη

Hekate is an ancient Greek goddess associated with magic, witchcraft, the moon, night, and the underworld. Often depicted at crossroads holding torches, keys, or serpents, she is a goddess of liminality, guiding souls through transitions and standing at the threshold between the living and the dead. Hekate is also a protector, especially of women, and a guardian of the mysteries of life and death.

Attributes and Symbolism:

Goddess of Crossroads: Hekate is often connected with crossroads, both literal and metaphorical, representing moments of decision, transition, and transformation. She helps guide those who seek clarity when standing at significant life choices.

Keeper of Magic and Mysteries: As a goddess of witchcraft, Hekate is linked to esoteric wisdom and hidden knowledge. She governs the night, moon magic, and the unseen realms, making her a potent figure for practitioners of divination, spellwork, and rituals.

Psychopomp and Guide of Souls: Hekate is known for her role in guiding souls to the underworld, acting as a bridge between the realms. She can help those seeking to connect with ancestors or explore shadow work.

Triple Goddess: Sometimes depicted with three faces, Hekate embodies the maiden, mother, and crone archetypes, reflecting the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

Working with Hekate:

Protection and Boundaries: Hekate is a fierce protector and can be called upon to set boundaries, banish negative energy, and guard against harmful influences. Working with her can help strengthen your own protective instincts and psychic defenses.

Shadow Work and Transformation: Hekate is a guide for those ready to confront their shadow self and dive into deep self-reflection. She aids in transformation, helping you uncover hidden truths and face the aspects of yourself that need healing.

Moon and Night Rituals: Hekate is closely linked to the phases of the moon, especially the dark and new moon, making these ideal times for working with her. Candlelight rituals at night, using black or dark-colored candles, are common practices when invoking her energy.

Divination and Keys: As a goddess of thresholds and gateways, Hekate can assist in opening doors to higher wisdom and understanding. Tools such as tarot, pendulums, or scrying mirrors can be used when seeking her guidance in matters of the unknown.

Offerings and Devotion: Hekate appreciates offerings of garlic, eggs, honey, wine, and bread. Creating an altar in her honor with symbols such as keys, torches, or bones can help deepen your connection. The dark moon is a traditional time to leave offerings at crossroads in her name.

Mantras and Prayers: You can call upon Hekate through prayers or mantras. One popular chant is: "Hekate, Queen of the Witches, guide me on this journey."

Intentions for Working with Hekate:

Seek guidance when at a crossroads in life.

Work through fears, trauma, or unresolved emotions with shadow work.

Enhance psychic abilities or deepen magical practice.

Invoke protection and banishing of harmful influences.

Hekate’s energy is wise, potent, and transformative. She demands respect, but for those who walk with her, she provides profound guidance through the darkest paths and beyond.

[thecleverqueer]

I don’t know. Maybe I mis-read the story, but I felt like the Ahsoka series wasn’t necessarily anti-Jedi. It felt more like Ahsoka finally accepted that she could actually be a Jedi after years of her believing that she was unworthy of doing that, and thereby giving her the right to pass on what she learned.

To preface, I do think her lineage had a problem with following rules. Obviously. Even Yoda broke rules when he went off on his trippy force adventure with Qui-Gon in the sixth season of TCW. It wasn’t that they all went against the Jedi teachings (save Anakin… which I won’t get into right now; I would possibly even argue for Dooku, but he was misguided and definitely did not go about anything in the right way), they just didn’t follow protocol. Most of them at least embraced Jedi philosophy (once again, save Anakin). They often broke rules and protocol loudly, but I can appreciate that as someone who hates the status quo and stringent rules. I say this to partially explain why Ahsoka often butted heads with Huyang about Jedi protocol. It’s not Jedi critical on a philosophical level as much as it is critiquing the protocols.

Now with that being said, let me talk about Ahsoka... Particularly, where Ahsoka was in her series and how that changes by the end of it:

Ahsoka struggled with the fact that she’d been trained as a soldier. Jedi were not soldiers; they were peace keepers. Ahsoka says as much to Rex on the Venator right before Order 66 was executed. She was incredibly torn by this. Ultimately, I believe it’s what caused her to leave the order in the first place. She listened to the words Barriss said, and agreed wholeheartedly. She couldn’t be part of the order as she was not a Jedi, but a warrior. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Jedi, she DID want to be a Jedi. She just felt as if she no longer knew how to do that, or perhaps, couldn’t do that based on what she’d been doing.

It’s the main thing that she is stuck on when she had her flashbacks with Anakin in the World-Between-Worlds dream state. She struggled with her past. She was unable to reconcile the actions that she was forced to take during the war with her Jedi training that specifically told her not to do that. She mentioned that it wasn’t what she trained for, and by the time she was fighting the Siege of Mandalore, she only saw herself as a fighter. And, it’s something you saw in her character at the beginning of her series. She’s quick to draw her blades and come at you. She does not hesitate to fight Baylon at the reflex point on Seetos. It had unbalanced her, and that’s why she lost the fight.

Anakin basically told her that she’s more than just a warrior. All of the knowledge that came before him, the wisdom of Yoda, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, lived on through her. She was part of a legacy. Still, she struggled because of what Anakin became, and was hesitant to share the knowledge that she possessed in fear of planting dark seeds. It’s why he told her that she lacked conviction. In Rebels, Ahsoka was trying to convince everyone including herself that she was not a Jedi, and it was a culmination of all of her trauma. This was the moment that she must live (and let it go of said trauma), or die and literally drown with it.

In the end, Ahsoka chose to live, and the white robes weren’t the only thing about her that had changed. In her second battle with Baylon, she’s not as quick to draw her blades. She’s more worried about finding Ezra and Sabine. It’s not that she was completely unwilling to fight, but the fight wasn’t what it is all about. She mentioned this to Sabine as well when she told her that “being a Jedi is more than just wielding a lightsaber.” Ahsoka released the trauma, and embraced her Jedi past. It was not explicitly stated, but it definitely felt implied.

[that-ari-blogger]

A Perfect Metaphor And A Perfect Joke

I put out a post a few days ago discussing some Critical Roll speeches, and I couldn't help but notice how people seemed to like that. So, I thought to myself: CR has some phenomenal moments, and I happen to have some more thoughts on them, so why not share?

With that said, Loquatius Seelie is a fascinating character played by a phenomenally skilled improviser. Allow me to explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CRITICAL ROLL CALAMITY

Before I unpack this speech, I would like to briefly examine who Loquatius Seelie is. And I'll start with an analysis of his mechanics. I'm not going to go into detail on his spells and abilities, instead I would like to instead bring up his choice of class. In the EXU Calamity Wrap-up, Sam suggested that Loquatius began at 1st level as a warlock, and took the remaining 11 levels as a bard, and I think that is quite interesting. Where everyone else was a liar pretending to tell the truth, Loquatius was an honest man pretending to be a liar. He had got swept up in the drama of it all, and kept taking levels in bard as he descended more into the personality he created for himself.

"Fire"

I feel the need to stress that this speech was written in the break. There was no clever marketing team who laboured for hours. This was Sam Riegel pseudo-improvising. That's not what I'm analysing, it just needs to be said.

Anyway, what is this speech about?

Life. Life needs things to live, and a world needs people to inhabit it. But there's more, this is a farewell to the age of arcanum, and in a fitting send off, it breaks down all of the pompous ceremony and for the first time in a while, gets real.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the replenishment is cancelled. Our centuries old bond, severed."

This is all nice, but what happens next is fascinating. Its the end of an era, and instead of looking back at what has happened, the speech looks to the future.

"Our two cities are like a married couple. We may have our differences. We may not have the same goals. We may even separate for a time. But we are connected by love for eternity. We made a promise to each other, and its one we must fulfill."

The symbol of marriage is a ring, it's a fascinatingly old tradition, with discoveries in ancient Egypt that date back 3000 years, and the symbolism behind this is both obvious, and subtle. The ring represents a cycle, an infinite loop. The ring doesn't represent the marriage, but the promise to each other.

In this broadcast, Loquatius brings the Age of Arcanum to a definitive close, tricking an entire city of hubris to go down in flames in order for the new world to be born. And to everyone else, he invokes marriage, the ultimate promise of a future, everlasting.

"Remember your Avalir siblings and the sacrifices we made for you. Remember Cerrit, the Eyes of Avalir, and his bravery. Remember Nydas, the Dragon, and his sense. Remember Patia Por'co, Keeper of Scrolls, and all the wisdom she brought. Remember brave Zerxus and Evandrin, the First Knights of Avalir. And remember the Architect Arcane, Laerryn, the most beautiful woman in the world. And also, remember the Market of Wonders"

This is such a phenomenal send off, not just because of who he's mentioning, or because of the sheer force of acting skill that Sam is throwing around. This is phenomenal, because of what it asks the next age to remember. Bravery, wisdom, and beauty.

Loquatius can never know what will happen in the next age, but he begs whoever will hear this, to take just these things forwards. Be brave, be wise, be beautiful.

But that joke. "Remember the market of wonders." Brennan has credited Joseph Campbell with the phrase: "Comedy completed the revelation that drama begins." And for the life of me, I couldn't find where Campbell said this, so I think this is a Brennan Lee Mulligan original.

Perspective is important, and if you have only good things, like the Age of Arcanum, you get complacent. But if you have only bad things, such as the calamity is shaping up to be, the pain loses its meaning. Your senses dull. This joke is a dying man going out with a defiant smile, but its also a message to the world. Don't give up on joy, or hope, in the face of Armageddon, because that's when you need those things the most.

"I'm Loquatius Seelie-- And I'll drop my golden complexion and just use my true face, my true changeling face-- saying: Seelie you later."

This is unironically my favourite moment of the speech. Because its the final moment, and the face of an age has stopped all pretences. No special effects, no whimsey or buttering up the truth. The dead cannot lie, at least, not as easily. Try as you might, you go out as you are, you can pretend to be something else, or you can change, but when you finally shuffle off this mortal coil, that's it, there's no more pretending. Loquatius Seelie goes out not as a performer and presenter, but as a husband, and a hero.

[vintagerpg]

What a pure delight this book is. This is Keeper Tips (2021): “Collected Wisdom on Running Games,” published in celebration of Call of Cthulhu’s 40th anniversary. The idea here is for a group of esteemed keepers and game designers to offer short snippets of advice. Those snippets were then organized into thematic groupings — Horror, Inclusivity, Monsters, Props and so on.

There is no attempt at uniformity. All the contributors run (and write) very different sorts of games, so their advice runs the gamut, sometimes one paragraph of advice being contradicted by the next. Better: all of it is uncredited in-line. They become, in aggregate, like Buddhist koans to ponder, puzzle over, embrace or discard.

Because that’s the thing, right: it’s all valid! Every group at every table has different needs and wants, so there isn’t a “correct” way to play or run any game, just the best way in the needs of the moment. That’s perhaps the wisest lesson of Keeper Tips.

[keysatthecrossroad]

A poem by Janna Sue:

Devotion to Hecate

O Hecate, in shadows deep,

Mistress of the night, your vigil keep.

With triple form and wisdom rare,

In labyrinths of fate, you guide with care.

By the moon's soft glow and the starlit sky,

We gather in reverence, our spirits high.

Thank you for your whispers, the secrets you share,

In moments of darkness, we feel you there.

Guardian of thresholds, protector of souls,

In your ancient wisdom, our journey unfolds.

From the crossroads, we seek your light,

To navigate paths obscured from sight.

O Keeper of Mysteries, hear our plea,

With gratitude we honor your power and decree.

Bestow upon us your sheltering grace,

As we walk forward, may we feel your embrace.

Guide us through trials, protect from despair,

With your presence beside us, we conquer our fears.

For in your devotion, we find our way,

O Hecate, we thank you this day.

Invoke your blessings, let shadows recede,

In the light of your wisdom, we plant our seed.

With love and respect, we offer this prayer,

O Hecate, our goddess, always near, always there.

Written by: Janna Sue

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Semper Eadem (iv, ao3)

Chapter four: In the aftermath of the jousting match, Elizabeth and her court go hunting, where Cassian has conspired to get Nesta alone.

(chapter one // chapter two // chapter three)

Nesta wasn’t thinking of the joust. 

As the morning after dawned bright and clear, full of promise and expectation, she swore to God and all the old saints above that her mind would not stray to yesterday. She willed resolution in her chest, begged for strength, and as the sky lightened beyond the lead-paned windows of the Queen’s chamber, she focused instead on dressing her mistress. She refused to remember the tiltyard beyond those stone walls— kept her thoughts far from that bastard-born son of a nobleman who had so decidedly won command of her heart, like it were just another treasure he had plundered. 

Obstinate, she clenched her jaw.

No.

By almighty God, she was not thinking about it.

Around her, the ladies of the royal household tittered and laughed, the soft sounds of shifting fabric filling the chamber as Nesta tied the ribbons on the Queen’s kirtle. A steady thrum of excitement hung heavy in the air, so thick it was palpable, and beyond the glass, not a single cloud marred the blue of the August sky.

There was to be a hunt, today.

A column of bright golden sunlight blazed through the chamber as the Queen angled a small Venetian mirror, its gilded frame heavy in one lithe hand as she tilted the glass to better glimpse her reflection. Her Tudor-red hair was afire in the morning light, her painted skin as pale as chalk, and glimmering she stood in the centre of her rooms, bedecked in so much wealth it was nigh on incalculable. Assessing, the sovereign let out a single contented hum.

What she saw pleased her.

And Nesta did not disagree— the dress alone could rival the work of the great Italian masters. 

The fabric was light in colour, a pale cream with embroidered roses and vines picked out in such detail it was almost enough to stun. A threaded thistle sat above the Queen’s ribs, and on her left sleeve a large needlework snake was coiled, studded with pearls and gems, and from its mouth dangled a small ruby charm— heart shaped, and surrounded by golden thread, silver cloth, and shining, opalescent pearls. 

The snake was Nesta’s favourite part of this particular dress. 

An emerald no bigger than a fingernail served as the serpent’s eye, and its tongue was rendered in a line of golden thread darting from between embroidered silver teeth to hold that small ruby heart. A symbol of wisdom and cunning, the snake was everything that Elizabeth represented, everything she valued, and the message wasn’t lost on Nesta as she circled the Queen and brushed a hand over the jewels that made up the serpent’s curled and curving tail.

Her sovereign was as slippery and as dangerous as an adder, one that had used the sharp edges of her diamonds to carve a space of her own in a world shaped for the pleasures of men. 

And that ought to have been distraction enough, but no matter how many times Nesta hauled herself back to the present…

Her dastardly eyes wandered to the window, and despite the promises she’d made to the Lord above, she damned her soul when she caught sight of the tiltyard beyond the glass, where a privateer had competed for her honourand— 

“Are you looking forward to the hunt, your majesty?”

Nesta tried to not startle as Blanche, the Keeper of Her Majesty’s Jewels, stepped forward and voiced her question, bearing in her hands an oak jewellery box with the lid lifted open. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a staggering number of pearls and jewels and gems, shining in every colour.

Elizabeth was silent a moment, handing off her mirror to another of her ladies as her fingers trailed idle over the priceless objects before her, hovering above diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies. Before she answered, she plucked up a ring set with a large ruby and extended it out, holding it towards Nesta in one smooth movement.

“Ah,” she said breezily, waving her hand, and as the sunlight refracted off the myriad jewels scattered across the fabric of her dress, shards of red and silver light danced across the floorboards, “you know that I do so love to hunt.”

The Queen extended a hand as she spoke, and Nesta slid the ring the sovereign had chosen onto her waiting finger. Another of her ladies draped a necklace of pearls around her neck, and if for one brief moment they reminded Nesta of the pearl that hung customarily from Cassian’s ear… 

She forced the thought away, and focused on straightening the Queen’s sleeve, her eyes returning to the snake.

But it’s spine was a line of more pearls— to symbolise wealth and purity, virginity, and it shouldn’t have reminded her of Cassian, of the one set in gold that shone amidst his dark curls. After all, Cassian could lay claim to neither wealth nor virginity, and yet the one he wore was a symbol nonetheless. Nesta brushed her hand over the Queen’s sleeve, and thought that perhaps his pearl was instead a symbol of something precious, something rare. Something plucked from the ocean and brought home to treasure.

Oh, the joust had softened her.

That was for certain.

Her conviction had already been wavering when she’d read Cassian’s letters, and seeing him race down the tiltyard yesterday had all but secured his forgiveness. The flames of her anger had burned away to nothing, and now when she thought of him—

She heard his laugh, saw his rakish smile, and felt her heart beat a little faster inside her chest. Like she were a witless maiden, borne of nothing but dreams and naïveté; like she hadn’t spent years at the royal court, growing as used to politicking as she was breathing. Cassian had made her yearn for real romance again, the way she had once as a girl, when her father had told her of Arthur and Guinevere, of Tristan and Isolde, and all those famous tales that made her heart swell.  Oh, after years of ruthless pragmatism and the endless facade of courtly love, she thought her desire for the real thing had been stifled, strangled, but it had resurfaced now, more fervent than ever before. And when he’d bowed before her in the tiltyard, his helm cast aside and his face aglow with triumph… 

Her hand fell away from the serpent on the Queen’s arm.

God— she needed to focus.

She pulled her awareness back in time to hear Blanche ask of Elizabeth,

“Will the Earl of Leicester be your hunting partner?”

Nesta paused.

It was a bold question— so bold that if anybody but the most favoured of her ladies had asked it, the Queen might have found reason to divorce a head from some shoulders. After all, they had all of them heard the rumours. Leicester and the Queen had been close friends since childhood— and there were whispers that perhaps it was once more than friendship, and might someday be something more again, if Leicester got his way. He had organised this entire pageant in the Queen’s honour, a gesture far grander than any he could reasonably have been expected to lay at his Queen’s feet. But as Nesta looked up, half expecting to find fury in the lines of the Queen’s face, instead she found her monarch’s mouth pulling into a coy smile, one that said Elizabeth would allow the question. 

“I think perhaps he shall,” she answered.

Nesta remained silent, only rounded the Queen to stand before her. She assessed the dress, the jewels, straightening the pearl necklace that twice circled her throat before hanging down to her navel. Elizabeth merely tilted her head in the wake of Nesta’s ministrations, causing the lace of her ruff to tremble. 

“And what of you, Mistress Archeron?” she asked. “Who shall be your partner?”

Nesta did not blink, did not pause, did not hesitate.

“Who should you like it to be, your majesty?” she asked, tilting her head in an echo of the monarch’s stance. Approval glimmered in Elizabeth’s eyes, a rare jewel of its own.

“Northumberland, perhaps?” the Queen ventured. “Master Vanserra seemed most determined to compete for your honour yesterday.”

Nesta’s mind flicked back once more to the joust - her soul be damned - and to the way Cassian had almost killed Eris in the tiltyard. As if the Queen could read her mind, Elizabeth snorted and said, smoothly,

“Or Master Cassian?” She tapped Nesta on the wrist with one long, thin finger. “My handsome Bat seems to have an eye on you, dove.”

Nesta forced herself to shrug. 

“Perhaps he does, majesty.”

She fought a smile, and Elizabeth hummed. Mirth danced at the corners of her lips, and even though she didn’t approve of her ladies marrying, something about the joust yesterday had humoured her. Perhaps it was the way Cassian had bowed to his Queen, or the way he had cast off his helm and looked up to the stands in such a perfect display of chivalry that Nesta half thought he might have plucked it from the pages of some Arthurian romance. Either way, something had snared the Queen’s attention, but Nesta was not fool enough to say anything more. She merely took a single step back and bowed her head as the Queen smoothed a hand down her skirts one final time.

“Well,” she said, her tone one of musing. “Perhaps we shall see.” 

A moment later the Queen clapped her hands, the sound sharp and cutting in the silence of her chambers. As the rest of her ladies waited for instruction, Elizabeth looked the window and allowed another serpentine smile to grace her lips. Her eyes were lit with purpose as she lifted her chin and said, with all the authority and determination only a monarch could muster,

“Let us hunt.”

***

It seemed, Nesta thought from atop her horse a half hour later, that all of England had descended upon Warwickshire to bask in the majesty of the Queen.

Riding two or three abreast in a great train behind Elizabeth, the hunting party stretched across the grounds all the way back towards the castle— all noblemen and horses, ladies and squires and hunting dogs. Trumpeters and drummers followed too, and a host of staff from the kitchens carried the baskets containing the food they would lay out at noon for dinner. Sheaths of arrows were slung across backs, crossbows stowed in saddlebags, and the drumming mirrored the footfalls of the horses as beyond the castle walls, Kenilworth’s expansive lawns began to slope before eventually giving way to lush woodland.

Grand— it was all so immeasurably grand.

Ahead, the Queen’s standard fluttered in the breeze, held aloft by a standard bearer, the embroidered lion shining golden beneath the morning sun. All the trappings of royalty gleamed— the richness of the Queen’s dress, the pearls that had been threaded through her hair; a glimmering vanguard as the trees of the forest grew closer. And at Elizabeth’s right, just as Blanche had suspected, rode the earl of Leicester. 

As casually and as easily as if it were the only place in the world that suited him, Robert Dudley filled the space at the sovereign’s side, and their heads were inclined towards one another as they spoke, their horses so close their flanks almost touched. The breeze carried behind them the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter, and as Leicester glanced sideways at his Queen, Nesta saw a flash of teeth, a wide smile beneath the brim of his hat, and she knew with unerring certainty that the earl was in love— so desperately and madly in love that it warranted all of this display, all of this pageantry. 

And the reminder that all of this grandeur was on the behalf of a man simply trying to turn a woman’s head… 

Well, it was foolish perhaps, and more than a touch sentimental, but… charming, too. 

And after all, hadn’t Cassian done something similar yesterday— something just as foolish? When he’d all but declared war on Eris, one of the richest dukes in England, because he had dared to ask her for her favour?

She shook her head, pushed the thought away, and kept her gaze straight ahead.

On the Queen’s left was Rhysand, riding silent and all but ignored. His heavy chain of office was draped over his shoulders, and the gold was bright against the deep black of his doublet. He wore a cap with a raven feather at the top too, and though from her position behind him she could not see his face, she could see his hands gripping the reins of his horse— could see, too, his velvet gloves, and the three rings he wore atop his gloves on each hand. His shoulders were stiff, and Nesta smirked.

If there was one thing Lord Rhysand did not appreciate, it was being overlooked, and with Leicester by her side, the Queen had no attention to spare for her dark-haired councillor. 

The sight should not have made Nesta as smug as it did.

On Nesta’s own left rode Madge, another of the Queen’s ladies. At their backs was the Duke of Northumberland and one of his many brothers, and Nesta did not think it a coincidence that he had managed to secure such a spot in the procession trailing behind the Queen. Indeed, as she had stood in the courtyard and mounted her horse, Eris had offered her his hand, and though Nesta had not accepted his assistance, he had bowed his head anyway, before taking her own hand and placing a fleeting kiss to the back of her fingers. 

She had never been so thankful to have been wearing riding gloves.

Beside her Madge was silent, as if she could tell that her riding partner was entirely preoccupied with her own thoughts. A frown almost creased Nesta’s brow, and she almost considered striking up conversation, but then her eyes fell to her gloved hands tight on her reins, and all she could think was—

I hope Cassian did not bear witness to that ridiculous kiss.

It was a thought as ridiculous in itself as the kiss Eris that had dropped on her hand, but one that persisted nonetheless. So consumed was she by it that the world and all its noise seemed to fade away, until—

“Mistress Radcliffe,” a smooth and all too familiar voice said easily from the empty space at Nesta’s right. Her heart kicked in answer as Madge turned her head, eyebrows rising as she beheld who addressed her. “My lord Azriel asks for you. He wishes to give you news of your brother in Ireland before the hunt begins.”

Cassian did not let his eyes stray to Nesta as he bowed his head; a vision of courtesy.

Madge smiled wide. It was no secret that she missed her brother, sent over to Ireland on the Queen’s orders. A lady from the north, she missed her family greatly, and it was no surprise to Nesta when she nodded her head and gave her thanks before turning around and leading her horse back along the procession that trailed them, to the space about four riders back, where the Queen’s spy had been riding beside the privateer and now sat alone.

Nesta looked behind as Cassian’s horse fell into step behind her. Quietly, she thought she heard Northumberland curse.

“Lady Nesta,” Cassian said in greeting, his voice light and airy as if this were the most ordinary of meetings.

But— merciful God, have pity on her soul.

Would she ever tire of the way her name sounded on his lips? Or the way he imbued it with something that felt like intimacy somehow? Lady Nesta, not Mistress Archeron. She thought back to his letters, how he’d penned her name with such an elaborate flourish. Even on a rocking ship, when ink and time were short for him, he’d written her name like it meant something. She glanced sidelong at him, trying to focus on the rhythm of the horse beneath her, the gentle trot of the hooves. But one look and she was at sea all over again, her sentimentality like a storm that threatened to send her under.

His doublet was the deep red of Burgundian wine, shot through with silver buttons in the centre of his broad chest, and for one foolish and ill-advised moment Nesta let her eyes wander, following that path of silver to where his doublet met his breeches.

God have pity, indeed.

Seated atop his horse, the privateer beside her cleared his throat and Nesta hauled her gaze back up— to a level far more befitting a lady of the Queen’s household. She took in, instead, the slashed sleeves of his doublet that split to reveal a crisp white shirt sitting beneath, and the dark cloak draped effortlessly over his shoulders. A delicate ruff rose from his collar and just barely grazed the edge of his jaw, and oh, lord— this man was beautiful. A velvet bonnet was balanced at a damn near rakish angle atop his curls, and as he brought his stallion into a trot beside her, the feather adorning it shivered in the breeze.

Beneath his unflinching gaze, and despite the heat, Nesta felt herself shiver too.

“Feeling cold, my lady?”

Damn him.

She cleared her throat, and refused to take note of the way several of those curls escaped his bonnet and lay tangled above his ruff, right against the bare skin of his neck.

“Master Cassian,” she said mildly, looking decidedly straight ahead to where the Queen and Leicester still spoke together in low murmurs. “Can I help you?”

He grinned. “Back to Master, are we?”

“Would you have me call you something else?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, dropping his voice so low it was almost sinful, “I’d have you call me several things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and tried to force down the blood that rose to her cheeks.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Indeed,” he said brightly, tipping his head back and inhaling deeply, drawing the summer air deep into his lungs. He tightened his grip on the reins, his gloved hands pulling as the riders ahead of them began to slow— as the line of trees at the forest edge grew nearer still.

And Nesta thought she must have lost her mind, because when she looked at those gloves, for a moment she found herself mourning the fact that she could not see the bare skin of his hands as his fist tightened.

“Tell me— did my lord Azriel really wish to speak with Madge?”

Sidelong, Cassian smirked. 

“In truth, no,” he said with an easy shrug. “But it is no lie that he received reports from Ireland this morning. It is entirely possible there was something about Mistress Radcliffe’s brother in there.” He shot her a grin, before adding brightly, “I merely thought to join your hunting party, if you’ll have me.”

“I fear I am not much of a hunter,” Nesta answered with a shrug of her own, a slow lift of one shoulder. “My sister was always far better at it than I.”

He shot her a dazzling smile, one edged with mischief. “And yet I am certain we can find some creature for you to bring down.” He glanced behind him, to Eris and his brother. “A fox, perhaps.”

“Perhaps the fox was brought low enough already after yesterday’s joust.”

“The fox remains presumptuous,” Cassian shrugged. His gaze dropped, eyes turning flat as they alighted briefly on her hand, and Nesta’s heart sank a little as she realised that yes, Cassian had indeed witnessed that ridiculous little kiss. “He still thinks to take what is mine.”

“Yours?” Nesta asked incredulously, glancing once over her shoulder, ensuring Eris was still too lost in his own conversation to overhear. Looking ahead, she saw with thanks that the Queen was still too preoccupied to take note, too. “After such a long time away?”

Cassian lifted one hand from the reins and waved it. Like Rhysand, he too had rings decorating his fingers above the velvet, and they gleamed now, the gold bright.

“I thought we’d been over this, sweetheart?”

She blinked, imperious. “You’ve been over this, sir. As far as I recall, I said little on the matter.”

He snorted. “You said much,” he countered simply. “You’ve had me grovelling for days.”

“Grovelling?” she raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t mask the smile that began to spread across her face. “I haven’t seen you on your knees once.”

His eyes darkened. “And is that what it will take, my lady?” He tilted his head, the pearl in his ear brushing the lace of the ruff that peeked from the neck of his doublet. “For my forgiveness, you would have me on my knees?”

She was silent for a moment, and a wicked smirk curved his lips.

“Trust me, love, I am more than willing.”

Her breath caught, her blood raced. His meaning was obvious, and with the way that smirk turned almost devilish, she knew that the blush that rose to her cheeks had amused him— pleased him. Her treacherous heart beat a little faster - a lot faster - and she was about to reproach him for daring to speak so boldly in the presence of a lady of the royal household, but—

The horns sounded, and the dogs began to bark, and the party at last reached the tree line. With a wave of the Queen’s hand, lifted into the air, every one of them fell silent. 

Cassian pressed a gloved finger to his lips and winked, and Nesta was so momentarily undone by the gesture that she almost set her horse into a straight gallop. She pulled hard on the reins, knuckles straining above the leather, and when she turned, she saw laughter dancing in those damned eyes. 

She tore her gaze away, focusing forwards— on Rhysand and the Queen and Leicester. 

Slowly they made their way beneath the cover of the trees, delving farther and father into the woodland. The sound grew muffled, the heavy canopy above cloaking the rest of the world from view, and all around them was birdsong and the snap of breaking branches as the great trail of courtiers and servants began to split into smaller groups.

It would have been impossible for the entire party to have remained unnoticed by their quarry, and so— in groups no larger than a dozen, the entire court slipped away, and as Nesta looked over her shoulder when the initial flurry of activity died down, she found nobody behind them now, only the greenery of the forest and the birds in the trees above.

The Queen’s personal hunting party had narrowed, leaving only Elizabeth and Leicester, flanked by Rhysand and two more ladies-in-waiting. Madge and Azriel had joined them too, along with one more member of the Queen’s council. Nesta and Cassian brought the total to ten. 

Leicester retrieved a crossbow from his saddlebag, and handed it across the distance to his Queen. Elizabeth grinned.

A hush had fallen, and ahead Rhysand looked over his shoulder and scanned the members of the small group. Catching Cassian’s eye, he seemed to give an exasperated sigh before rolling his eyes and giving the privateer one brief, sharp, nod. Nesta did not much understand the silent and secret language Cassian seemed to share with his brother in arms, but it did not take a master codebreaker to decipher that particular message.

Alright, that nod seemed to say. I’ll do as you ask.

In answer, Cassian grinned.

And as Azriel manoeuvred his horse around them, leaving Nesta and Cassian at the back of the assembly, Rhysand pointed between the dense copse of trees ahead, where the light above was dim and the forest pressed in on all sides. 

“There!” he said loudly, his voice startling the birds nesting in the nearest tree. “Over there, your majesty!”

Elizabeth whipped her head to the side, sharp eyes assessing the direction Rhysand’s finger still pointed. Before Nesta could blink, the Queen’s smile had widened, the hunt upon her, and she kicked in her heels and sent her horse barrelling through the trees— at a speed so reckless her other councillor cursed soundly before setting his horse to follow.

Rhysand’s black stallion charged ahead, but before Nesta could urge her own mare forwards, another hand gripped her reins.

Cassian held tight, and as the rest of the hunting party darted quickly between the trees, Cassian inclined his head to the side, nodding in the other direction. His smile grew as the sound of the racing horses faded, and when he let go of the reins at last, he did not retract his hand. Instead, he extended it further, turned his palm to the sky. A silent offer, unspoken question. 

Come with me, that hand said.

And Nesta knew it was a bad idea to follow him through the wood.

Knew it was reckless, to go off with him alone.

Her reputation could end up in tatters. She could lose her position in the Queen’s household. 

And yet…

His smile was somehow sweet and devilish at the same time, simultaneously the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and the harbinger of her own ruin. 

She should have said no.

But God save her…

She didn’t. 

Instead, she placed her hand in his, feeling her heart kick as his fingers folded over her own. He drew her closer, until he could lift her hand to his mouth, and without looking away, he kissed the glove above her knuckles. She fought a shiver, and though earlier when Eris had kissed her hand she had thanked the Lord for riding gloves, now she cursed them— abhorred them. 

She felt the warmth of his hand sinking through her gloves, and oh, she only wished she could feel his touch against her bare skin, feel the smoothness of his kiss as the trees hid them from view.

At last he blinked, breaking his gaze and flicking his eyes down to the fingers he still had pressed against his lips.

A moment, an age, or a heartbeat later, he let her hand drop. And before Nesta had time to collect herself, Cassian dug in his heels and sent his horse through the trees, looking back over his shoulder, as if unwilling to draw his eyes away.

And when they were alone, with only the two of them riding almost silently, slowly, through the density of the trees, she dared to look at him again as he adjusted the crossbow that now sat across his lap, though neither of them seemed really intent on hunting anything at all. 

For a long time, there was silence— as if they were both of them afraid of being overheard. The air between them shifted, growing softer, as if the quiet gave rise to vulnerability. Suddenly, there were a thousand things Nesta wanted to say, a thousand words drifting to her lips, but in truth, she had no real idea of where or how to begin. Instead she watched the forest ahead of her, studied the way the leaves above swallowed the light, and let the silence stretch. And stretch, and stretch, and stretch, until—

At last, the privateer broke it. 

“You said you wanted me on my knees,” he began softly. “But what else do I need do to prove myself to you?”

He looked at her imploringly, the rogue cast aside, and Nesta’s heart suddenly began to strain, each beat laboured. Nothing— she knew she ought to tell him nothing, because no matter how much she wanted it, how much desire she carried, how could this ever end well between them?

Cassian studied her face.

“Do I need to sail to a distant land and claim it in your honour? Name a settlement after you? Bring you back a ream of treasure?”

She was silent, and his eyes were lined with a wealth of desperation that gave the lie to his bravado.

“Or shall I cast off my cloak before you and lay it over puddles, so your silk slippers may never touch the ground? Or—“

Nesta shook her head, and when she opened her mouth, his voice died to make way for hers. But her words grew tangled in her throat, and she hesitated— even though she never hesitated. She closed her mouth and sighed once more, and atop his horse Cassian smiled a little sadly, with so much longing her own heart ached, and when she looked at him…

Oh, he was the road her heart begged her to travel, even though it was one she knew in all good sense she wouldn’t be able to see through to its end. What was the point in letting herself fall, only to be hurt again when he left? Or when her father succeeded in tying her to some wealthy duke— if not Northumberland, then some other who came along? What was the point in any of it?

Love, a small and starving part of her whispered. The love the poets write about, the kind the troubadours sing about. The kind that makes you feel the way you do now, ready to cast off the world and find home in the arms of this one man.

As if he could see her battling with herself, Cassian drew his horse closer to hers— so close she could almost feel his warmth.

“You should know,” he said quietly, and whether the whisper in his voice was because of the need to stay hidden or the vulnerability of his words, she wasn’t sure, “that your letters were a greater treasure to me than anything I could take or steal from any ship on the high seas. Greater to me than any ransom any king could demand.”

A heartbeat passed, one where her heart seemed to thud so loudly in her chest that she feared the flock of deer they were pretending to hunt might hear it and flee.

Charming— did he always have to be so damned charming?

And God— would it be so bad, to tell him that he already had her forgiveness? Would it be so terrible, to tell him that despite it all she was his, if not in body but in mind and soul at least?

She was speechless for a moment, and he managed a weak sort of grin at her evident surprise.

And then—

The trees thinned, and a clearing lay spread before them, golden sunlight pooling in the centre like a small slice of Arcadia. Cassian sniffed a little, like the long grass and the wildflowers had irritated his nose, but still— there was beauty in that clearing, unspoiled and harmonious. 

And— a doe.

A doe stood frozen in the middle, her ears pinned back as she caught sight of the approaching horses. The sunlight dappled across her white-spotted back, and as she slowly lifted one slim leg, ready to bolt, Nesta’s eyes drifted to the crossbow in Cassian’s lap. 

She prayed he wouldn’t shoot.

But Cassian’s hand didn’t so much as twitch towards the weapon, as if he couldn’t find it in himself to hunt the creature either.

Yet on the other side of the clearing— there was the flash of auburn, the glint of an arrow.

Nesta’s heart lurched, and whether by design or divine intervention, beneath the hooves of Cassian’s horse a branch cleaved with a crack.

Readily, the deer bolted.

A curse sounded from the trees, where only a moment ago an arrow had been knocked and drawn, ready to be loosed. 

“Privateer.” A snarling voice drifted from the tree line, sharp and cutting, and Nesta recognised it immediately— saw the auburn hair like burnished bronze as Eris came into view. “You just cost me my prize.”

The duke pointed to where the deer had escaped between the trees, and though the rest of his companions remained in the shadow of the forest, she thought she could make out a handful of their faces, two of them bearing that same auburn hair. His brothers. Eris’ sneer grew wider, more vicious, and as he turned his head to fix Nesta with a stare across the distance, she wondered if his prize hadn’t only been the doe, but her, too. 

He brought his horse forwards into the clearing, further into the light, giving her an unrivalled view of the shining bruise that marred his temple. 

He hadn’t taken his loss at the joust yesterday well, it seemed, and though he cast his eyes over Nesta once more, it was to Cassian that he returned his gaze, letting out a single, dissatisfied huff. The bruise stretched up to his hairline, a livid purple stark against his pale skin, and in everything else but that, he appeared every inch the nobleman. A ring sat on every finger, and his doublet was unbroken black. Like Rhysand, he too wore a livery collar draped across his chest and shoulders, but where the Queen’s councillor had a Tudor rose dangling from his chain of office, Eris had instead the badge of a dog, its head back, lifted as if howling at the sky. 

He had a dagger out, too, presumably for slaying the deer, but the glint of the blade in the sunlight still promised bloodshed, and the way his hand flexed around the hilt said that it didn’t matter the doe had fled.

That dagger was to taste blood today, one way or another. 

“Piss off, Northumberland,” Cassian said easily— but his own hand had strayed from his bow to the sword hanging at his hip, his wrist resting purposefully on the pommel. 

Eris’ eyes flashed, quietly furious as his lip curled. “I will not stand to be insulted by one of such low standing.”

Cassian barked a laugh, but it was low and rough and dangerous. “You won’t stand for anything, sir, if I knock you from your horse as easily as I did yesterday.” He paused, and then added, “Shall I give you another bruise to decorate the other side of that pretty face?”

The duke sneered, but before he could let loose the insults that Nesta could see were rising to his tongue, there was a cacophony in the distance, and a hundred horns suddenly flaring loud enough to be heard all the way back at the castle. 

It was a summoning— a call to arms, to usher Elizabeth’s court back to her as the sun reached its highest point in the sky and dinner was served in the great tents at the edge of the forest. 

For the moment, at least, the hunt was at an end.

Eris twisted his head, looking behind him to the direction the horns had sounded. His brothers did not wait for him to make up his mind before they disappeared, following the call for food that was, apparently, of far greater worth to them than any loyalty they had for their brother. 

Cassian bowed mockingly in the saddle, but his hand did not stray from easy reach of his blade, and when Eris turned back to them, his lips were a thin line.

“These woods are treacherous,” he said flatly. “It commands great skill as a rider to avoid the pitfalls that litter these grounds. You might have won the match yesterday, sir,” - the duke’s lips pulled back over his teeth - “but how about another match? Here and now?”

Nesta watched as Cassian grinned, almost feral.

“First to the Queen wins,” he said as he moved his horse forwards, drawing level with Eris’.

The duke’s face darkened, and the nod he gave was sharp before flicking his eyes to Nesta once more. As if this were another attempt at winning her, at securing her favour for a second time. Cassian’s smile fell away, leaving behind the same murderous expression that had fuelled him at the joust yesterday.

“For the lady’s honour, then,” Eris declared, every word imbued with venom.

And when Cassian nodded, looking behind him over his shoulder to give Nesta one final wink, Eris clenched his jaw before slamming his heels into his horse’s flank, sending the beast galloping through the trees.

Cassian swore, a curse so filthy she was sure he could only have picked it up at sea, and surged forwards, letting the forest swallow him. 

But as Nesta followed, dipping beneath the cover of the trees, she saw that only the thinnest shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves above, leaving the forest floor just as treacherous as Eris had described. The ground was slick with mud, and even though the August heat ought to have dried it out, the summer sun had never made it to the ground here. Petrichor was thick in the air, and the long limbs of the trees snatched at the skirts of Nesta’s dress as she rode by them, wild and overgrown. Treacherous— this part of the forest was most definitely treacherous.

Indeed, Cassian could not ride as fast as he had yesterday, and neither could Eris, and it allowed Nesta to keep both the duke and the privateer in her sights as she followed behind, watching them weave through the trees in search of stable ground. 

As her horse almost stumbled over the gnarled roots of a tree half concealed by fallen leaves, she wondered if stable ground even existed this far into the woodland, and as the wind brushed against her cheeks and another branch snagged on her cloak, she almost called out to stop the madness that had Cassian spurring his horse onwards, regardless of the danger.

The ground began to slope— sharp and steep, and it was madness, utter madness to continue— 

Eris noted the slope, and Nesta watched as the duke swiftly studied the way the ground all but dropped away to reveal a small dell below, home to wide a stream that ran slow and idle through the undergrowth. Its banks were coated with mud, turning it slick and dangerous. 

Wisely, he veered to the side, directing his horse around— to where the ground sloped more evenly. A longer path, but a safer one, and he looked back only once before disappearing into the trees, avoiding danger altogether. 

But Cassian—

Irreverent, he glanced once over his shoulder. Manic, he grinned as he barrelled ahead, shooting Nesta a wink as he urged his horse faster still in Eris’ absence. The creature’s hooves slid in the mud, and Nesta called out his name, but Cassian had turned his face away, and if he heard her, he gave no indication.

Idiot.

She had no choice but to follow, and when he reached the banks of the stream, he did not stop. Instead he pressed in his heels, riding even faster, compelling the stallion to jump— 

And Nesta watched as the horse made the jump, but its hooves slipped on the bank on the other side, its landing far from smooth.

And just as Eris had been thrown from his horse yesterday, now Cassian was thrown from his— but it was a fall that was far more treacherous, far more dangerous, and Nesta swore her heart stopped dead as she watched him land roughly, heard the muffled groan as the ground came up to meet him. Forgetting all notions of her own safety, she urged her horse faster, willing it to cross the stream his stallion had just jumped. 

“You fool,” she hissed, feeling her horse whicker beneath her as she pushed the mare onwards. Cassian was lying on his back, a hand cast over his ribs as he looked up at the sky. “You could have broken your damned neck.”

Cassian twisted his head to look up at her as she pulled her horse to a halt.

“Got your attention though,” he muttered. “So I’d say it was worth it.”

“This was a bid for my attention?” Nesta echoed, dismounting roughly as he continued to lie there in the earth churned by his horse’s hooves. The mud was seeping through his breeches already, and the white sleeves of his fine cambric shirt were, she feared, irreparably stained. 

“Well,” Cassian said lightly, as though he hadn’t just been thrown from a stallion. “You started it, sweetheart.”

“Started what?”

He looked up at her again, turning his head in the dirt. “You gave Eris your favour.”

Nesta blinked. “You had your horse make a jump like that, risking your own bloody neck, because I gave the duke of Northumberland my ribbon? Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he countered evenly. “My heart, perhaps. But my mind is still wonderfully intact.”

“Up,” Nesta said sharply. “Let me look at you.”

He grinned, as though vindicated, but as he made to raise himself, he hissed sharply, sucking in a breath as he pressed a hand to his ribs. His brow furrowed with pain, eyes darkening, and Nesta sighed heavily as she pulled off her gloves, held out her hand, and helped him to his feet.

“Take off your doublet,” she said flatly, looking at the expanse of muddied velvet. 

Cassian’s brow quirked. “Well, that’s not how I imagined you asking me to undress but—“

“How else can I check to see if you’ve shattered your ribcage?” she interrupted, but Cassian only grinned again and began loosening his ties. Soon enough his doublet was parted entirely, and as he slipped it from his shoulders, he winced. He let it fall to the floor, and Nesta was about to chide him for dirtying it so, but then she caught sight of his sculpted chest showing through the thin fabric of his cambric shirt. She swallowed, letting her gaze wander across his collarbone, at the tanned skin there that had been masked by his doublet’s high neck.

“And this?” Cassian said lowly, nodding to his undershirt. “Does this need to go too?”

“I… suppose it does,” Nesta said with a sniff, trying to affect nonchalance when all she could focus on was the curve of his shoulder, the muscles lining every inch of him. “How else can I check that no ribs are broken?”

“How else indeed,” Cassian hummed, and wasted no time in pulling the shirt over his head.

And good Lord have mercy, Nesta knew that Cassian was sculpted like Italian marble but nothing could have prepared her for the bare skin of his chest, hardened with muscle. Those months on a ship definitely suited him, and as she looked, she forced herself to focus on his ribs, on the task at hand. 

Innocent, she thought as she tentatively traced a finger across his ribcage, where a thin scar marred his skin. It’s all entirely proper, completely innocent. Just a lady checking a friend for injury.

He was warm beneath her, so warm, his skin softer than it had any right to be. He’d spent eight months in the sun and salt air, and he’d come back looking finer than ever. Hers— this man could be hers, and as her fingers splayed across his chest, Cassian reached up with one hand and caged her touch right above his heart. 

She felt it beat— sure and steadfast. 

“Will I live?” he asked softly. “Or am I doomed?”

Nesta swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his hazel ones, boring down into her with an intensity that had her feeling slightly stunned. Her lips parted, she tried to speak, but all she could feel was his heart beating beneath her fingers, his smooth skin and the warm heat of him that had her feeling breathless. 

“You’ll live,” she said at last.

He nodded, his hair falling idly over his forehead. In the sunlight, the pearl that dangled from his ear winked, the gold setting glimmering. 

Nesta blinked, and somehow found the strength to drag her eyes away, dropping her gaze to the floor. Where his shirt lay in a crumpled pile next to his doublet, there was a hint of pale-blue, a small flash of colour against the white. She frowned, tilting her head, unable to understand even as she knew what it was, what it must be.

“Is that— my ribbon?”

Cassian pulled back, a somewhat sheepish smile on his face as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps.”

“How did you even get it?” she asked, bending to retrieve it from the pile of his clothes. 

He shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let Eris have it.”

Silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the noise of the forest and the sounds of the horns, distant. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” he asked quietly. “About the betrothal.”

Nesta shrugged. “Because I’m trying to get out of it,” she said easily. “It was foolish of you to think I’d still be here, unwed, when you got back. You know my father—“

“Fuck your father,” he muttered. And then he softened, his eyes turning wide with something akin to pleading. “I’m here now, sweetheart. And I’m not going away again.”

“But you will,” she countered, turning her face away. He always would— he could not be tied to the court as she was, had too restless a spirit to spend his life idling away on an estate somewhere. “And I’ll be left behind, waiting for you, again.”

“You could come with me,” he offered instead, even though the both of them knew it was madness.

Elain had moved to Spain with Lucien— but that was because his place was in the Spanish court, somewhere settled. It was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, everyone knew that. No, Cassian could not take her with him, but she adored him a little for even offering in the first place.

“Or you could promise not to stay away so long,” she said instead, her voice quiet. “Come home, Cassian, as often as you are able. Don’t sail so far away from me.”

“Never again,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “How could I ever stray so far, when I love you too much to stand the distance?”

Her breath caught.

I love you.

Oh, the words were said so often at court. She’d had countless dukes and earls call her their dearest love during dances and revels, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom how many had written her poems or bowed deep and told her she held their hearts in her hands. It was part of the game they played at Elizabeth’s court— part of the realpolitik that made up their world. 

But it was different when he said it.

So different Nesta might have sworn the earth beneath her shifted, that standing beneath that canopy of trees, all the riches in the world lost their value.

She blinked, and he waited— waited for her to say something, to acknowledge his declaration.

And in the end, Nesta found the strength to dip her head, to smile a little demurely before stepping forward and pressing the softest, the chastest, of kisses to his cheek. Then, she turned back to her horse and mounted, leaving him standing there, looking up at her, one hand pressed to the cheek she had just kissed.

“I suppose, then,” she said, “that you can be forgiven for ignoring my letters.”

And as she began to ride off into the forest, she looked back once— and waited for him to follow.

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