#Mild violence

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Bring Us Back to the Heroes We Were

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Setting: France

Summary: Daryl loses his temper with Laurent and you are having none of it.

Warnings: SPOILERS, Yelling at a child, mild violence against a spouse

A/N: That scene was emotional. I felt it in my soul. morgan556 suggested this and I had to go with it!

*gif is not mine

You had admittedly lagged behind when Daryl and Laurent had walked away to the waiting boat. Azlan had been so kind to both you and Daryl, smiling and welcoming. He had shared his stories and his wisdom. Even so far from home, you felt less alone in his company. 

You knelt and placed a trembling hand on the fresh pile of dirt. “We’ll get him there. I promise.” Sniffling, you wiped at your face. You turned once, thinking you heard Daryl’s voice but he’d have to be yelling for you to hear him from there. When you heard it again, you were on your feet in an instant, bolting toward the river. That was definitely Daryl. 

“You stupid little shit!” Daryl was leaned into Laurent’s space, fury radiating from him in waves so strong, you lost your breath for a moment. “Do ya know what ya’ve done?!”

“Daryl!” You dropped your bag and ran toward them, your own rage bubbling to the surface the minute your husband’s fingers came in contact with the kids’ jacket. 

“Ya think you’re so goddamn smart! Worthless!”

“That is enough!” You grabbed both of his forearms and squeezed, making sure your nails bit into skin. He was bigger and stronger than you, but you had to get him to let go somehow. Placing yourself between him and Laurent, you shoved Daryl back hard, but he stepped into you and leaned around to point a finger in the kid’s face. “I should’a left ya right where I found ya! What do we do with ya now?!”

“Stop it!” You shoved him again and when he came back, your palm met his cheek with enough force to whip his head to the side. “Get yourself under control! No matter what he did, he is a child! A fucking child! Calm the fuck down!”

The slap seemed to have made him take a breath, his voice much lower when he pointed to Laurent again. “I wanna know why. Why would ya do this?”

Barely containing your wrath, you looked over your shoulder. “Laurent, why would you cut loose the boat?” While your head was turned, Daryl shoved past you and grabbed the kid again. 

“Why?! Tell me why?!”

You grabbed the back of Daryl’s jacket and yanked, nearly throwing him off his feet while you placed yourself between him and Laurent. “Try it again, Dixon. I dare you. If you think I will let you—”

“Everyone I care about is gone.” Laurent’s broken voice had you turning, his tear-filled eyes flickering between you and your husband. “When we get to the Nest, you’ll both go, too.”

“Laurent.” You said gently. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” 

You didn’t hesitate to pull the boy into your arms, burying your face in his hair and letting him cry. When you saw movement in your peripheral, you turned your head to see Daryl reaching for Laurent, his expression softened, those blue eyes shining. You only spared him a warning look before allowing him to pull the kid to him much as you had done. 

“Yeah. C’mere. I didn’t mean it.” He placed his chin on the dark mop of hair, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be alright.” He let Laurent step back, the boy’s eyes searching the both of you for reassurance. 

“It’s alright.” You smiled gently, wiping away a tear from his cheek with your thumb. 

“C’mon.” Daryl picked up your bag with his own and held it out of you. You snatched it from his grasp with a sneer, glancing over your shoulder to see Laurent staring at the empty spot where the boat once sat. 

You pointed back and forth between you and your husband. “You and me. We ain’t done.” You spun on your heel and wrapped an arm around the boy, setting off on foot to follow the river. 

You heard Daryl’s quiet grumble of “yes, ma’am” behind you before you could hear him following. 

[aventurineswife]

hear me out: sunday x reader, but when Sunday was Bronze Melodia and reader is someone who Gopher (and by extension, Sunday bc y’know grooming.) considers a sinner. Sunday finds himself falling for reader, but kinda mentally battling between love and what he was taught. aka religious trauma sunday ig (bonus points if he argues w gophers nasty ahh)

u can decide what to do with the rest :D just a lil concept i wanted to throw out

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies."

Summary: You are deemed as a "sinner" by the Oak Family, led by Gopher Wood, and is frequently summoned to the Dreamscape. Sunday, once a revered figure as Bronze Melodia, is tasked with guiding lost souls, but he begins to question the teachings he’s spent his life upholding. As he finds himself drawn to you, his inner battle between duty and newfound emotions intensifies. Torn between his role and the love he’s beginning to feel, Sunday faces a difficult choice—one that challenges the very core of his existence within the Oak Family.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Religious Trauma, Forbidden Love, Angst, Slow Burn, Emotional Struggle, Conflicted Feelings.

Warnings: Religious themes (exploration of indoctrination and guilt), Emotional conflict (internal struggles, self-doubt, and identity crisis), Mentorship/Manipulation, Angst (heavy emotional tension and heartache), Mild violence(?).

In the Dreamscape, Sunday is Bronze Melodia—a revered figure among Penacony's people, tasked with guiding lost souls under the Oak Family's watchful eye. You've become his frequent visitor, someone Gopher Wood has labeled a “sinner,” a title that weighs heavily on your shoulders and darkens your interactions in the Dreamscape. Gopher’s sermons have painted you as a threat to the Order, yet there's something about you that draws Sunday closer, unsettling the foundations of everything he’s been taught.

It begins in quiet moments: Sunday, reserved yet diligent, listens as you confide your thoughts and fears. You sense his inner conflict in the way his hands tremble ever so slightly as they rest on the pages of his book, the way his gaze occasionally softens before hardening again. He's polite, distant as Bronze Melodia, yet there’s an undeniable pull between you—one that frightens and fascinates him.

One evening, when the weight of Gopher’s teachings grows too heavy, Sunday finds himself seeking solace in your presence. As you speak, he’s caught between his role and the truth that he feels stirring within. You challenge the ideals he's held all his life, quietly unraveling the bindings of his loyalty to Gopher’s ideals. But still, he’s torn. He’s been raised to believe you’re dangerous, yet your gentleness speaks louder than Gopher’s condemnations.

Sunday can’t help but wrestle with his emotions in moments of solitude, replaying your words and Gopher's warnings over and over. The idea that love and care could exist outside of the Order’s defined “purity” haunts him, conflicting with the strict doctrines he’s internalized. Finally, unable to stay silent, he confronts Gopher.

In a tense exchange, Sunday questions Gopher's labeling of you as a “sinner,” a term that has started to feel hollow in the face of what he feels for you. Gopher's response is calm but chilling, reminding Sunday of his place, of the Order that has made him who he is. Yet Sunday doesn’t back down entirely, holding onto the fragments of his love for you. In the end, Gopher leaves him with a choice—one that could seal his fate within the Oak Family or cast him out as an exile.

Sunday returns to you, conflicted but resolute. He confides in you, sharing the depth of his battle against the values ingrained in him. Your presence becomes a grounding force, something that feels like hope amidst his turmoil. While he’s not ready to completely turn away from the Dreamscape and the Oak Family, he begins to imagine a world where he can both honor his beliefs and explore the connection that has grown between you.

(Art credit to @oversaltedcat on Twitter/X)

[tellsfromninjago]

Dialogue for translation purposes

Hidden Scars, Part two

Page 1

Kai: Nya, did you have to grab all that junk? It's slowing you down.

Nya; It's not junk, and it's not slowing me down at all.

Kai: It literally came from the garbage.

Kai: Here, I'll carry your stuff.

Kai:You take this, but be careful.

Kai: This is our dinner.

Page 2

Kai:Next time, only the essentials, alright?

Kai: Now hurry up.

Kai:I got this weird feeling.

Page 3

Shadow 1:Look it’s them.

Shadow 2:Shhh

Page 4

(Bully) Bryn: Why are you running?

Bryn:We just want to talk, isn't that right, guys?

Kai: Talk to each other then and leave us alone.

Page 5

Bryn: Oh, don't be like that, Kai. We're just curious if the rumors are true.

Nya: What rumors?

(Girl bully) Alda:That you two eat from the trash.

(Big bully) Jerome:Yeah, just like filthy animals.

Group: Makes animal sounds at them

Bryn: I heard you two have been the ones hitting all the shops.

Bryn: Is this your stolen goods?

Page 6

Jerome:You two were going to eat this stuff?

Jerome:Gross.

Kai:It's not garbage!

Kai:It's just a bit past its expiration date.

Bryn: Way past, I’d say.

Kai: Hay! (Yes it should be spelled like (Hey!) but whatever.

Page 7

Nya: Hay!

Bryn: Ha, Dumb kid.

Page 8

Kai:Hands off, my baby sister!

Bryn:You'll pay for that!

Page 10

Nya: Kai, your bleeding!

Jerome:Whoa, Bryn don't kill him.

Page 11

Shut up Jerome!

Jerome: This is too much, man.

Jerome: I'm out of here.

Nya: Stop!

Page 12

Jay:Whoa, It's OK. Kai, it was just a dream.

Zane:A pretty bad one too.

Zane:If your screaming is any indication.

Cole: Well, nightmare or not, it's alright because it's not real.

Kai: But it was real.

Thank you all for reading.

This story was hawkflame999 idea. I wrote it and stuff but you can thank them for the plot and story beats. We worked on it together.

[aph-mable]

dpxdc; My Uncle is Nuts.

My Uncle Is A Nut

Written by:

Aph-mable

@thegatorsgoose

Having been announced the heir and Co ceo of D.A.L.V co, Danny has gotten used to being dragged to formal events with Vlad against his will. Getting caught up in saving one of the many galas he’s forced to attend, Danny catches the eye of one Lex Luther. 

Chapter 1

Danny tries hard not to sigh for the umpteenth time as Vlad drags him towards another group of rich folks and reporters.

When his Godfather had publicly announced Danny as his heir during one of his mayoral speeches he thought he was going to die all over again from sheer embarrassment and frustration, especially when he started calling Danny out of class to work on ‘special’ projects or drag him to Gala’s like this one.  

Usually at least one member of team Phantom would come along, usually Sam since her parents often forced her to attend anyway, unfortunately this time everyone was busy.

Sure Danny could have asked, but he didn’t want to take away what little free time they had during spring break, so for now he was going to face this party on his own. After all nothing really interesting happens at these and he’s not going to end up socializing much anyways. 

At the moment Vlad had rolled him over to a group of men who were chatting away about their latest technology, a nerdy looking yet buff reporter taking notes on everything. 

Danny was only half listening to what was being said when the frootloop budged in, something about wanting to partner up with Wayne tech since DALV co was already partnered with Lex co.

He could only roll his eyes and cringe as his crazy arch nemesis wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the bald ceo who looked just as done as he felt.

Seeing Vlad finally to distracted with his deals Danny took his chance and snuck away, moving his wheelchair as fast as possible to make a break for it, away from the party and to explore the building. maybe even escape if he was lucky. 

Unfortunately as he reached one of the doors the pesky security stopped him, saying he needed to stay within the building, so he pulled out the oldest trick in his book. 

“I have to go to the bathroom, can you at least point me to it?” He even pulled out his pleading eyes to look as innocent as possible to make the security guards feel uncomfortable.

“It’s through those doors over there, just across from the kitchen… do you want-” before the guard could finish Danny was already zooming to the door and shouting, “No thanks, byye!” 

Once out of sight he at least made an effort to head towards where the bathroom was but stopped in front of the kitchen.

First double checking all sides of the hallway, he pushed himself into the kitchen in search of something to tinker with. Danny swears he will drop dead if he doesn't get some kind of technology in his hands. 

When he entered the place was completely empty of any staff. makes sense as they had set up a huge buffet in the main hall and had all the kitchen staff stand against the wall to show who cooked what, like it was some kind of grand show. 

This left Danny to ‘borrow’ a few appliances, they’re rich they can afford it!

He ends up taking a toaster, a blender, and some kind of cylinder air fryer, stuffing them all into his magic bigger-than-it-looks bag and bolting out of there as fast as his wheels could take him so as to not get caught. 

Once he re enters the gala he parks himself in the furthest corner near a window. He starts pulling out his mini tool kit and the items he took, trying his best to hide them by making them semi invisible so it just looked like he was messing with his tools as he gets to building an ecto gun. 

Danny tried to stay alert and scan the room on occasion but nothing much was happening, Vlad was still bragging to the group of men, and there were only three other kids around his age hanging out on the opposite side of the room. One looked ready to pass out while the other two stood next to the door arguing over who’s dog was best.

Danny pulled his goggles down over his eyes and rolled up his sleeves so his specialized gloves could start putting power into the ecto gun. He quickly starts to hyper focus as he tinkered with the homemade gun, his mind drifting off to play among stars that were just out of reach. 

Even with everyone talking around him it all faded to white noise, finally quiet enough he now focused his power to flow through the machinery as he twisted the screws into the right place. 

His very core sang with how peaceful it was as he finished making the home made ecto gun and set it down in his lap. 

Just as Danny turns it invisible to put it away, his chair is suddenly jerked as he’s dragged towards the now frightened guests, a group of men dressed in green and purple question marked suits threaten everyone into a corner as they start setting up strange equipment.  

Clutching his invisible weapon tightly in his lap one of the goons tries threatening him with a gun, but before Danny could react Vlad steps in front of Danny, letting out an instinctual growl to make them back off. 

The goon rolls his eyes before directing them to where he wants them to go, trying hard to not let his hands shake too badly as he thrust more people into the now overcrowded corner, keeping watchful eyes on Vlad who is seconds away from losing his temper and ripping someone's throat out.

Now most people in this situation would just listen to their captors, sit still, be quiet, all that jazz, especially with how many of the goons were now bringing in strange green canisters of gas that gave off the scent of pure fear.

Yet as Danny rams Vlad’s ankles with the wheels of his chair it's pretty clear he wasn’t like most scared civilians. For once he was siding with his godfather as he was very, very angry. Angry that they were targeting innocent people, angry that Vlad was treating him like he was helpless, angry that he had to show up to this stupid gala in the first place… He had noticed some of the other kids giving them the slip earlier, at least there’s that. 

Just as they bring in the last canister one of the goons trips and nearly brakes open the container, which got the already annoyed second incharge to yell at them. 

“For fucks sake! Be careful with those things, we don’t even know what they’ll do yet!”

The younger looking goon, who looks barely out of their teens, shrinks away as they whimper out an apology. He sets the items down as others around them either stare in frustration or sympathy. 

Yeah, no. 

 “Wow you people are pathetic.” 

The second in command turns at Danny’s outburst, taking a step forward and clenching his fists. “What the fuck did you just say?” Danny rolls his eyes before glaring at the goon “I said you’re pathetic, did you get that or do you need me to repeat myself again?”

The crowd looks on in half horror, half shock as the leader walks up to Danny, resting his hands on his arm rests and leaning down to stare at Danny threateningly. Danny leans back in his wheelchair and looks up at him with a bored expression, unphased. Vlad tries to shove his way to Danny, but is held back by several goons. Danny spares a quick glare at his godfather, he has everything under control.

“I may be a criminal, but even I don’t like kicking a kid when they’re already down.” The goon says, moving his eyes down to glance at Danny’s wheelchair and back up again, glaring into his eyes. “So I’m going to give you one last chance to take that back.”

Danny narrows his eyes at the goon as he clutchs the invisible ecto gun in his lap, it’s now or never. With near inhuman speed he quickly reaches for his bag and pretends to pull the weapon out, aiming it right at the goons temple. There’s audible gasps from the crowd as the goon stumbles away with wide eyes before gaining his footing and going right back to glaring.

“And I’m going to give you one last chance to reconsider what you’re doing with your life” Danny smirks at the goon, already reading up the lecture in his head.

“It’s 30 minutes past start time, what is taking you so-“ Danny’s smirk evolves into a full shit eating grin as the Riddler walks in to scold the goons, what perfect timing.

With the crowd distracted Danny uses his other hand to unlock his phone. With a few simple swipes, Danny has the gala on lockdown. With the main asshole inside.

Perfect.

_____________________________________________________________

Damian puts on his Robin suit with trained proficiency once they make it to the cave. Unfortunately he and Jon were the only ones able to leave on time, the rest of the family having been dragged away. Truly, this proved that he had good reason to not mingle with the crowd. It had nothing to do with the noise. Or the lights. Or the small talk.

Truly.

“Who do you think it is this time?” Jon asks, an excited smile on his face. But even while being carried, Damian could see the tension in his frame, the nervous tick in his brow. His friend was worried. “I mean, they have the question mark thing going on, but they also had the gas canisters which I don't think the Riddler does that? And the gas itself kinda smelled like lavender and hazelnuts like fear gas but it was also kinda minty? And not like candy cane minty but like straight mint leaf minty? I don’t know, I only know there’s a difference cus ma tried to make mint tea that one time cus she was super sleep deprived and she read online that mint tea could improve memory or something, that stuff reeked!” Another indication of Jon’s nervousness, rambling. By the time Jon had finished his rant, they had already made it to the gala.

Once he’s put down Damian dusts himself off and turns to Jon. “It is most likely a team up, then.” He pulls out his katanas and readys himself for the fight ahead. “Once you break down the door our job is to stall long enough for the others to get out. We don’t know what the gas can do, so keeping the containers safe is our top priority.” As much as it pains him to admit, just him and Jon won’t be enough to handle it themselves. There’s too many people, and they need some of the bats to disperse around Gotham in case the riddler has set up a larger plan.

Jon smiles at him and nods, hopping from foot to foot in excitement (which he doesn’t find adorable at all). “You ready?” Damian gives a sharp nod before Jon kicks in the door.

“-I mean COME ON, people would PAY you to have a chance at your game show! You could even do your whole “riddle me this!” Thing as it’s own segment! But noOOOOooo, you wanna risk the lives of countless civilians so you can get a fucking furry to answer your stupid riddles, most of which aren’t even original! And NOW you wanna partner up with a fear junky cus why?”

“I-“ a clearly startled Riddler tries to answer before being interrupted.

“Oh yeah, cus your BUDDY, your PAL scarecrow, thought it would be so FUNNY to release an UNTESTED gas in a gala for a fucking THRILL HIGH.”

But instead of a fight they walk into.. this.

 A wheelchair bound boy with black hair and blue eyes (who he’s sure his siblings would call “adoption bait”) holding a strange silver and green gun that looked straight out of one of Damian’s sci-fi mangas, at a confused and startled Riddler. It seems the crowd used this as an opportunity, as the rest of the goons were restrained near the walls by a mix of his family, Kent, and various gala attendees, while the middle of the room was occupied by the armed boy.

“Huh?” Jon let his arms rest at his sides as his head tilted to the side in confusion (it does NOT remind him of a confused puppy, absolutely not). However before Damian could say anything, it seems the boy has finally noticed them.

“Oh, you’re here. Took you long enough.” The boy finally puts the gun down and into a bag at his side. “Have fun.” He says in a bored tone as he turns and starts pushing himself in the direction of a man with silver hair, Vlad Masters, who met him in the middle only to start fussing over him, seemingly much to the boy’s annoyance.

Finally shaking off their shock both Damian and Jon rush to detain the Riddler until the police show up, yet Damian’s curiosity keeps bringing his eyes back to Master’s and his ward. outwardly, the concern seemed genuine, but with how the boy was reacting to just being touched by Master’s… made him think otherwise. 

Even Lex Luthor was side eyeing the man instead of resuming his chatter with father or Mr. Kent, meaning something was happening and Damain was determined to find it out one way or another. 

For now though, they have their hands full because of Riddler and Scarecrow.

Domain knew he should have stayed back with Ace. 

____________________________________________________________________________

End of chapter 1

[mothiepixie]

Somebody is gonna have a bad time Part 2 (You're here)

Part 1

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like the Beat of a Drum pt 2

**I'm not entirely happy about this, and have NO clue where it's going next, but we'll see!**

The Red Hood clocked Danny as not all he seemed as soon as they were alone together. After some negotiation (Danny threatening to vanish into thin air and Hood threatening to tell Red Robin), they came to a consensus.

Danny would be in human form unless one of the other bats were around, and Hood would keep his big mouth shut.

“No spooky supernatural stuff in my borough, kid.”

Danny decided not to tell the other man that he himself had a fair bit of spooky supernatural stuff going on.

He should probably keep an eye on that- Corrupted ectoplasm was never a good thing, and Red Hood was crawling with it.

Living in Crime Alley was easy. Hood had put him up in a dingy little apartment, fully stocked with anything he might need- and no surveillance equipment. Danny had checked. He spent his time while he finished the healing process taking the toaster apart. And the microwave.

Hood visited while he was arms deep in the oven and put a kibosh on larger appliances, but he started bringing small broken appliances around for Danny to fix. It was nice, having another undead hanging around. Someone who understood the constant itch under Danny’s skin to keep moving, keep working, keep reminding himself he was alive.

He even was finally able to see his soulmark! It was a name, somebody called Timothy Drake-Wayne. Hood had seen it and made some sort of choking noise, and when Danny asked, he was told that Drake-Wayne was publicly markless. Weird.

Danny was pleased that the wounds to the area had healed completely though, not marring the text at all.

The wound on his chest, not so much. It stood out, inflamed and sore against his otherwise pale chest. Its presence reminded him a little of the lichtenberg scars that crawled down his arms in his ghost form.

Maybe the Drs. Fenton had somehow killed him again, and now he was a halfa twice over? This was his penance, he supposed, for trusting them after everything.

~~~

Tim’s favorite coffee shop was packed, save for one table with a lone occupant. Once he’d gotten his deathwish coffee, he made his way over to the table.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I-“

The table’s occupant, a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, nodded toward the other chair before Tim could finish his sentence.

“Feel free, man. It’s a busy day today.”

Tim couldn’t help but wonder where he’d seen the other before- his face was familiar in a strange way, and he felt- he felt surprisingly attracted.

His soulmate heartbeat thing had been unusually quiet since the night Phantom arrived, whereas before it sounded loud and clear in his head at least a few times a day and long into the night.

He was allowed to talk to cute people while his soulmate was still young, right?

“Spend a lot of time here?”

The stranger shrugged.

“Here and there. Haven’t run into you before, which I think I would have noticed. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Tim didn’t think much of the name. This young man was far too old to be his Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Tim.”

He reached out a hand, and Danny shook it firmly, giving him an odd look that quickly passed.

The two of them sat and chatted for a while, and Tim found himself wondering how he’d missed this person around Gotham- he was well spoken with a soft accent, whip smart, and gorgeous.

Tim’s watch buzzed, reminding him he had a meeting- he could have sworn he had two hours between his coffee run and his meeting, but perhaps he’d been chatting too long.

“Shit! I have to go- it was nice meeting you!”

He chugged the rest of his now-cold coffee and darted out of the coffee shop.

It wasn’t until after the shareholder’s meeting that he realized he hadn’t asked for Danny’s number.

~~~

“Hood!”

Jason looked up from his desk as his office door was flung open, and then watched in amusement as Danny scrambled out of the grasp of the goon trying to pull him away.

“Sorry Boss, he slipped by us! I’ll- OW! He bites!”

“Stand down, Marcus, he’s a friend. Head over to medical if you need to- the little shit’s feral.”

Grumbling, the goon let go of a smug looking Danny and made his way to the other door while Danny swanned into the office and made himself comfortable on Hood’s guest chairs.

“How did you find this place?”

Shrugging, the kid pretended to inspect his nails.

“You know, just followed the scent of daddy issues and rancid ectoplasm- not hard. Didn’t peg you for the office type, though.”

Jason leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What do you want.”

“Timothy Drake-Wayne is Red Robin, yes?”

Trying to keep his posture casual and unconcerned, Jason tilted his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“I met a guy named Tim at the coffee shop and he’s got the same ghosts as Red Robin.”

Danny slapped a newspaper down on the desk between them- the cover page was Tim, looking very CEO and businesslike.

Jason was pretty sure Tim and Danny would get along like a house on fire, if Danny had already figured him out.

“Also, I felt his heartbeat when we shook hands and it matches the beat of my soul.”

Pausing, Jason parsed the information he now had about Danny.

“Wait, you can see ghosts that follow people?”

“You can’t?”

Jason stared incredulously at Danny for a few beats, and then the younger man sighed.

“Right. Your ecto is all screwy. Remind me to fix that. Yeah, I see ghosts attached to people- not everyone has them, and not all of the ghosts are actually, you know, dead people, but yeah. I don’t normally think about them because they’re everywhere, but same ghosts often equal same person.”

Danny slumped further into the chair after he finished talking, letting out a small whine.

“What now?”

“Jason, he’s cute.”

With a sigh, Jason pointed over at the newest handful of appliances he needed Danny to fix for the residents of Crime Alley.

“Take that and get out of my office.”

~~~

“Timberly~”

Tim sighed and let his pen drop- if Jason was here and looking for him, he probably wouldn’t get much work done. Not that he was getting work done now- balancing a pen on his nose wasn’t really work.

Jason rounded the batcomputer, idly tossing his helmet from one hand to another, a massive grin stretching across his face. It was a scheming face, a face that said he knew something Tim didn’t, and Tim hated not knowing things.

“What.”

Jason’s grin stretched wider.

“You’ve been keeping secrets!”

With a sigh, Tim turned his attention to the computer. Of course he kept secrets- the entire family had secrets. Hell, the secrets that the entire family kept probably also kept secrets.

Undeterred, Jason shoved his head (read: his entire upper body) in between Tim and the computer.

“So, where is it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at the other man, hoping he looked as judgmental as he felt.

“Where is what, Jason? My spleen?”

The grin on Jason’s face faltered for a moment before returning with full force.

“Your soulmark!”

The weights Dick had been working with in the training area hit the floor with a loud thump, and Tim could only assume their oldest brother was storming over to berate Jason.

“Jason!”

Heh. He was right.

Jason pulled away, grabbing the arm of Tim’s chair and dragging him along to be a human shield as Dick approached.

“Nu-uh, Dickie- I’ve got good info, here. Timmy has been hiding his entire soul from us!”

Tim would like it to go on record that he hated everything, everyone, and especially Jason. He tuned out Dick’s raised voice and Jason’s responses, trying to figure out how the other could have found out.

He almost always kept the patch on- it’s not like a civilian camera could have caught him without. Even when he took the patch off to wash or to tend a nearby wound, he made sure to do it in his Nest without any recording devices nearby.

The only way Jason could have- Maybe he’d met Daniel and seen Tim’s name? Some poor kid down in Crime Alley? A four year old at best. Eurgh.

He tuned back into the still heated conversation.

“-kindness isn’t hard Jason, and you can’t just use the excuse that we’re siblings to bully Tim for being markless! I never thought you had it in you, you-“

“It’s under my sternum. How’d you find out?”

Dick’s tirade stopped short as Tim answered, his mouth dropping open comically. Jason pumped his fist triumphantly.

“You handed him to me on a silver platter, Timbo.”

Tim did not gape, that would be unbecoming and Janet Drake would never allow a son of hers to be unbecoming.

“I’m sorry?”

Jason grinned, an evil, evil grin.

“Daniel Fenton. You gave his case to me.”

“Case?”

Dick’s voice was high and reedy, and Tim looked over to see that he was looking distressed and probably a little faint.

Jason snickered. Rude.

“I do not have a case for my soulmate.”

Jason snickered again, and pointed at the batcomputer.

“Then what’s that?”

Both Dick and Tim turned to look- it was just the file on Phantom- but by the time they turned around again, Jason was roaring out of the cave on his bike.

Tim flipped him off, just because he could.

Dick collected himself before Tim did, whirling to face him and yanking Tim’s shirt up before desperately scraping at the bare skin, trying to find the patch.

With a sigh, Tim pushed Dick’s searching hands away and peeled off the patch himself.

He felt bare without it- completely exposed to his brother’s sharp eyes.

“You never told anyone?”

Shrugging, Tim slapped the patch back on, pulled his shirt down, and turned back to the batcomputer.

“Came in late- didn’t want some poor kid to get saddled with me.”

By the hitch in Dick’s breathing, Tim could tell the older man was about to get sentimental on him, or berate him for talking bad about himself.

This day couldn’t get much worse, could it?

The Arkham escape alarm sounded from both boys’ phones, and Tim sighed yet again. Way to jinx himself.

~~~

Phantom floated invisibly above the Red Hood, filtering away the ectoplasm that rolled off of him in waves as he stood with the other bats.

“Nightwing and Robin, you’re looking for the Joker.”

The ectoplasm spiked at Batman’s growl, and Danny sighed soundlessly. Keeping Jason away from his vengeance was not the right way to go about things.

“You want another dead Robin if they find him?”

“I do not want a dead Joker, Hood, and I know there will be one if I let you after him.”

Red Hood crossed his arms with a snarl, and Phantom settled closer to the man’s shoulders, keeping a steady wave of calm floating from his core.

The beat of his soul was pounding with excitement, and he took a moment to glance over at Red Robin, who was glaring in Red Hood’s direction. Danny couldn’t begin to fathom why.

Once the bats scattered, Phantom brought his head closer to Hood’s. The older boy was muttering mutinously under his helmet.

“What if we found him first?”

Hood’s head shot up to look in Danny’s direction.

“I could help, and then we could go home and finish Jenga.”

“Help do what?”

Danny dropped his invisibility long enough to flash Jason a grin.

“Payback.”

~~~

Red Robin and Spoiler crashed into a warehouse, weapons at the ready, only to find half the rogues they were looking for tied up and watching a fight going on in the center of the room. Tim’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute with adrenaline, and so was his second heartbeat. He had been rushing to find the Joker at least, especially after Red Hood went off comms.

It took him a minute to identify the people in the fight, if it could really be called that. From what he could tell, it was a mostly unilateral beat-down of the Joker by Phantom.

“What the fuck.”

Stephanie was watching with wide eyes from his side, and Tim caught a glance of Jason watching from the other side of the warehouse, helmet off and a green glow about his face.

“We need to get to Hood and make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Spoiler nodded, but before she could move, a shadow shifted next to Hood and Black Bat slipped from the shadows, putting a hand on the man’s arm. Hood turned his head in her direction, nodded, and then went back to watching the show.

Black Bat stepped away, seeming satisfied with Jason’s response.

Phantom smacked Joker with a backhand slap loud enough to startle Tim, and the psychopathic man went flying back into the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base.

Tim watched as Phantom floated over to Hood, chest heaving despite no sounds of breathing.

“Are you Avenged, Bat of Gotham? Feel it in your Core.”

The greenish glow to Jason’s face flickered and then floated up and away from his face, dispersing in a thin mist.

“I am Avenged, Phantom.”

Phantom landed with a smile.

“See? Killing him wasn’t necessary- just a little beatdown.”

The second heartbeat in Tim’s sternum began to slow as Phantom held out a hand to Red Hood.

Jason took it and shook, smiling grimly.

“Red Robin?”

Spoiler was at his shoulder, but Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Phantom’s face.

“Red, we need to get Joker to the hospital.”

Black Bat moved from beside Jason and punched Tim on the shoulder.

“Ask him out.”

Tim startled.

“I- what?”

She made the sign for soulmate discreetly, and Tim felt his face flush. Phantom couldn’t possibly- but then he thought about Jason’s cryptic wording about Tim’s soulmate the other day.

Surely not. Surely.

[ballinkittymeowmeow45]

Hi funger community.. this took about so long to make and I hate jt, anyway it’s angst

The tag is my user on TikTok, you should follow me there🔥

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Shadowed Ripples (Deuce x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mild violence (brief fistfight), mild hurt/comfort

“That’s a big ass fish!” Ace declared as he stared up into the large tank. 

There was, indeed, a very big fish that swam by. You glanced over at the small info cards that decorated the sides of the display tank. “I think that’s a sturgeon.” 

“What other fish could be that big?” Epel asked. 

“Various creatures trump the size of a sturgeon.” You glanced over your shoulder to see Sebek approach your little group from behind. “Whales, sharks, crocodiles, squids.” Sebek crossed his arms as a brash smirk twitched at his lips. “You humans would know such things if you cared to read.”

“Would’cha quit with that better than thou shit?” Epel cut back at Sebek. “Take that ‘humans er better than fae’ crap and shove it up yur-!” 

“Epel!” Epel winced at the sound of Vil’s harsh tone, his head snapping in that direction. There Vil stood at the tank three paces away, the one that held a series of colorful jellyfish. His eyes were so sharp they could cut glass - even you gave a shiver. You and Epel both meekly turned your heads away, though Epel’s was followed by a grumble of words you couldn’t discern. 

“What do you want to see next?” Deuce stepped over to your side, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. It was the one he often wore while he was out riding his magical wheel - the leather was resilient to water, which was why he wore it today. No rain would dampen this aquarium trip. He smiled down at you as he patiently waited for your answer, his cyan eyes catching the light from the tanks. They looked pretty…

“I saw a sign outside advertising manta rays,” you said. “They have tanks shallow enough for you to pet them; I want to try that!” 

“That baby stuff?” Ace laughed. “What’re you, four?” 

“Ace, shut up.” Deuce huffed before he turned back to you. “Let’s go find out where they are, [Y/n].”

“You babies have fun,” Ace chuckled as he waved you off. “Me and Epel are gonna go look at some actual cool shit.” 

“Like the anaconda that scared the piss outta ya when it came down from its branch?” Epel snickered. 

“Shut up, dude!” 

You let out your own chuckle as Ace was reprimanded for his raise of voice by Trein. That was the last you saw of Ace as you and Deuce separated from the group and turned into the hall that led to the other part of the aquarium. 

***

“There they are!” Deuce pointed towards the little shallow tank of water in the center of a room in the distance. Sure enough, there were the manta rays you’d been searching for. Your smile widened as you and Deuce walked over to the open pool of water, so clear it almost sparkled in the lighting. You were about to reach out and touch one, but you were compelled to glance over at Deuce. He gave a nod as he said, “Go ahead! I’m just going to take off my jacket real quick.” 

You gave a nod in return before you went about your fun. You dipped your hand into the cool water and reached out to one of the little manta rays swimming about. When your fingertips grazed its back, you gasped: It was slippery! A little slimy, too, but not in a gross way. It felt a bit like lip gloss, maybe nail polish. You didn’t linger on the thought too long - you were too preoccupied with petting the little creatures. 

Deuce came to stand beside you a minute later. After a glance at the tank attendant, his hand slipped into the water close to yours. The smallest of giggles left his lips as his fingers touched a manta ray’s back; you couldn’t help but think how cute the sound was. As the two of you continued petting the rays, you asked Deuce, “Have you ever been to an aquarium before?” 

“A few times,” he replied. “My mom worked at one for a while when I was little. She would get discounts on tickets, so she’d bring me there on the weekends when she was able.” He glanced at you as he recalled the memories. “We didn’t have a lot of money back then, so I only went twice, maybe three times. Still, I’m happy I got to experience that with her - and now with you.” 

Your heart fluttered at that last part. Deuce seemed genuinely joyful at the fact he got to come here with you and your friends. Sure, this was part of the school trip, but…it felt special when he put it like that. You smiled back at him as you nodded, “I’m glad, too.” 

Just then, your hands accidentally brushed. Deuce let out a small gasp and yanked his away and out of the water, sending a few droplets splattering to the ground. “Sorry!” he blurted out. 

“Sir, please keep your voice down,” said the tank attendant. 

“S-Sorry, ma’am,” Deuce uttered, clearly embarrassed. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction; Deuce could really be adorable at times. You took your hand out of the water and shook it a little to dry it. “It’s okay, Deuce. It’s not like it hurt or anything.” 

Deuce simply nodded his head meekly. It was just a touch, no big deal. Why was he so flustered? Before you could ask, Deuce grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser at the corner of the tank. He walked back over and handed you a few. You took them with a ‘thank you’ as you began to dry your hands. As you looked around the room, then back to Deuce, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Deuce, where did you put your jacket?” 

“Hm?” Deuce perked up at your question. “Oh, over there.” He pointed at the bench behind him - but there was no jacket. A look of panic crossed his face as he glanced around the room. As you’d noticed before, his leather jacket was nowhere in sight. Deuce jogged over to the tank attendant, and in the most polite, yet rushed way asked, “Excuse me, ma’am? Have you seen a leather jacket anywhere? I put mine on that bench over there.” 

“Leather jacket?” The woman thought for a moment, then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, yes, I saw it there a moment ago. I…I believe someone grabbed it.” 

“Who did?” Deuce glanced around the room to try and find the person in question. 

“A boy around your age,” she replied. “They just left.” 

Deuce quickly thanked the woman before he sprinted out of the room, muttering apologies to the people he passed by in a hurry. You haphazardly tossed your paper towels in the trash can before you took off after him. 

***

You finally caught up to Deuce outside the aquarium, where a few picnic tables were scattered about. It looked like a small garden set aside for people to eat in. Three guys sat on one of the tables, the middle wearing a very familiar jacket. Deuce was already in front of them, voice calm and level, yet by his body language you saw he was irritated. “Excuse me,” he said, “that’s mine.” 

“Huh?” The young man turned his head to look down at Deuce. He was around the same height, but he had the high ground from where he stood on the table. “This one?” He opened the leather jacket and did a little spin, then gave Deuce a grin - one an asshole would give. “Sorry, man, finder’s keepers~ If you wanted to keep it so bad, you shouldn’t have left it.” 

“I took it off so I wouldn’t get it in the water.” You could tell Deuce was trying to keep it together. “It was right behind me on the bench, where I left it. You didn’t think to ask if it belonged to anyone?” 

“Why?” The boy smirked as his words were lined with a faint chuckle. “As I said, if you wanted to keep it so bad, you should have left it on - maybe tied it around your waist. You just abandoned it there - sounds to me like someone who doesn’t care for it.” 

“My mom gave me that jacket.” You’d forgotten about that. You watched as Deuce’s hands slowly balled into fists. “I do care about it.” 

“Aww, your mommy gave it to you?~” The man and his buddies let out a small bit of laughter as the leader mocked him. “Well, then mommy’s little boy should take better care of his things.”

“Look, man,” Deuce’s voice grew more angry by the minute, “just give it back.” He held out his hand. “We’ll forget all about it if you do. I don’t want things to get ugly.” 

“Ugly?” The guy laughed. “What’re you gonna do, huh? I could snap you like a twig!” 

“Would you just give it back?!” you piped up, equally as angry as you marched up to the picnic table. As you approached, you noticed something about the boy: on his shirt was pinned an RSA pendant. He was a Royal Sword student? And he acted like this?! Guess the school wasn’t full of ‘goody two shoes’, as Ace once told you. They had their own share of assholes. 

You decided to try and use that newfound knowledge to your advantage. “Do you really need us to get your headmaster involved? I’ll go get him myself!” 

“Oh really?” The guy jumped down the table and stepped in front of you. “Who do you think he’s gonna believe, huh? Us, three of his most beloved students, or,” he grabbed your collar and yanked you forward, “some snot nosed NRC-” 

He let go of your collar as he was suddenly yanked back and thrown to the ground. Deuce stood before him, face twisted in rage as he glared down at him. “Don’t touch them. Never touch them!” Deuce cracked his knuckles. “You wanna fight someone, you fight me.” 

“Hey!” One of the guy's friends stood up and grabbed Deuce’s shoulder. “Who do you think you-?!” 

That guy was shoved back onto the picnic bench. The third came up from behind and tried to punch Deuce, but Deuce ducked out of the way and delivered his own square to the guy’s nose. The student yelled out in pain as he, too, stumbled to the ground. The leader got back on his feet and charged at Deuce; unfortunately, he managed to hit him in the stomach. Though Deuce wobbled a few steps back and groaned in pain, he quickly regained himself. Swiftly, he grabbed the guy by the shirt, surely about to start beating him to a pulp - and then the double doors behind you swung open. 

***

You watched as the two headmages, Ambrosius and Crowley, shook hands, ending their conversation. You stood close by, nervous at what they’d agreed upon. When Crowley had stepped through the doors and broke up the fight, an argument ensued. The RSA students tried to accuse Deuce of attacking them because of their school, while you and Deuce explained that the boys had stolen Deuce’s jacket and refused to give it back. You also mentioned that the leader of the friend group had grabbed you by the collar, and that was the reason why Deuce attacked. Not long after, Ambrosius had arrived; apparently, another RSA student had heard the commotion and went to fetch him. Ever since then, the two had been in a discussion as to what to do with the boys. 

Your eyes landed on Deuce, who sat on a bench a small distance away. The three RSA students still sat at the picnic tables within the little garden, one of which now had a bruise forming on his face. The leather jacket was no longer on the lead’s person; as Crowley approached you, you saw it was now draped over his arm. “Would you please hold this?” he asked as he offered you the jacket. You nodded and took it without a word. Crowley then walked over to where Deuce sat, head hung low in shame. He’d been like that since he realized what he’d done - that he’d tapped into his delinquency again. 

Your heart sank as you watched Deuce look up at the headmage as he addressed him. You wished you could hear what they were saying. Deuce looked so disappointed in himself…so sad. He nodded along to whatever Crowley was saying; when the short conversation ended, you were able to read Deuce’s lips as he said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, Headmage.” The man laid a comforting hand on Deuce’s shoulder and patted it lightly before he walked off to dispel the small crowd of students that had gathered several feet away. You saw Ace, Epel, and Jack among them - you gave them a wave and a small, forced smile to try and ease their worried faces. 

In moments, you were at Deuce’s side, sat next to him on the bench. You glanced down at the leather jacket in your arms; thankfully, there was not a scratch on it. You offered the garment to Deuce with a little smile. “It’s not damaged. I’m happy you got it back.” 

Deuce’s cyan eyes flicked down to glimpse the jacket. He gently took it from your hands and put it on his lap. “Thanks…” he mumbled. 

A silence filled the space between you two for a few minutes. You watched as the students dispersed, most going back to their regularly scheduled activities. Your small group of friends, however, lingered at the entrance to the aquarium, likely waiting for you two to join them. Your gaze then landed on the garden space several feet away. You could barely make out the face of Ambrosius as he spoke to the boys - scolded them, most likely. To you, he looked like a disappointed father. For the way the boys’ postures drooped as he led them away, you were sure they got the lecture of a lifetime. You just hoped they wouldn’t try and come back for vengeance at some point. 

“Crowley said that he and Headmage Ambrosius believed us,” Deuce finally spoke. You turned your full attention to him as he continued. “He said this would be my only warning though…he told me to tell a staff member if something like that happened again.” 

“That’s good.” You gave your friend a comforting smile as you placed your hand over his. “I’m happy you didn’t get in trouble.”

“Yeah.” Deuce looked like a kicked puppy, a deep frown set upon his face as he stared down at his jacket. “But I still messed up. He’s right - I should have just gone to one of the professors for help. They would have helped me…I need to stop being a delinquent.” 

“You did nothing wrong, Deuce.” The pain in your heart mixed with anger as you thought back to the fight. “They picked a fight with you - you protected me. I would have done the same for you!” 

Deuce let out a small chuckle at your words. The tiny smile that tugged at his lips quelled your anger for the time being. He glanced in your direction as he spoke. “Thank you, [Y/n]. You…weren’t scared, were you?” 

“A little.” You gently squeezed his hand. “I was afraid of you getting hurt.” 

There was a glimmer of something in Deuce’s cyan orbs as he looked at you. His posture straightened as he scooted closer to you. His hand squeezed yours in return, a determination apparent in his voice as he began with, “[Y/n], I-” 

“Hey, Deuce!” Both your heads looked in the direction of Jack, who now stood halfway between your bench and the entrance of the aquarium. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jack.” Deuce suddenly appeared a little startled, but kept himself together. “Thanks for waiting on us.” 

“No problem.” Jack smiled as his tail wagged a little behind him. He gestured back at the others with a nod of his head as he said, “We’re ready when you are.”

“We’ll be there in a second.” Deuce waited for Jack to turn and begin walking away before he faced you again. “C’mon, we should go. We only have an hour left here.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You stood up from your seat on the bench, with Deuce quick to follow. Your smile grew as you saw Deuce slip back on his jacket. You glanced up at the sky - gray clouds still hung overhead. “I think the rain might start back up soon, too. It’s probably good to head back in.” 

“Mhm,” Deuce mumbled, rolling his shoulders as the jacket slipped over them. He spared a glimpse over towards the entrance of the building; Ace, Epel, and Jack were gone, likely somewhere in the lobby. That determination rose in his heart - if he was going to make a move, he better do it now. 

“By the way,” you lowered your gaze from the clouds back to Deuce, “what were you saying before-?” 

A pair of lips met the skin of your cheek. You sucked in a breath as you gasped, eyes blown wide at the sudden contact. Deuce leaned back to his full height as he pulled away, his handsome face meeting your vision. An equally attractive smile was stretched across it, pretty cyan eyes looking right into yours as Deuce asked you the thing that’d been on his mind since last night. “Do you want to have lunch with me after this?” 

Your heart pounded in your chest, blood rushed to your cheeks, your mind went nearly blank. Deuce, Deuce Spade, was he…asking you on a date? You slowly nodded your head as you let out a whispered, “Y-Yes.” 

Deuce seemed to sigh in relief, shoulders now lax, loose of tension. He gave a small nod of his own, but it seemed to be more of an assurance to himself - that he just asked you that and succeeded. If only you could hear how giddy his thoughts were then. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s go, then. We’ll go eat after we leave here.” 

Words were not possible to produce for you at the moment - you simply took his hand with a shaky smile and let him lead you onward. You barely registered the questions your friends asked you two, whether about the fight, what Crowley had said, or why you were smiling like an idiot. For several minutes, you had trouble registering the many aquatic animals swimming around the various dimly lit tanks. All you could focus on was Deuce Spade: his handsome smile, his warm hand, how the jacket hugged his attractive figure just right, how softly he spoke to you - and how pretty his eyes looked as they shined with the shadowed ripples along the aquarium walls. 

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Loki's Sweet Treat

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Dark!Loki x Honey!Reader

About 20k words, so tread carefully

Honey Duval navigates the treacherous world of high society, facing family tensions, personal struggles, and Loki's dark interest in her. As she tries to protect her family's fragile reputation, Honey finds herself entangled in dangerous power plays and secrets that threaten her future.

Warning:

This story contains graphic content that may be disturbing to readers, including themes of sexual assault, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Explicit scenes involving non-consensual encounters, coercion, and power dynamics are present, which may be triggering for some readers.

The sun streamed in through the tall windows of Lady Jane's sitting room, casting a golden glow on the well-dressed women gathered for tea. The gentle clink of China and the murmur of conversation filled the air, yet I couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. I lingered at the edge of the room, blending into the wallpaper as I clutched my teacup, regretting my decision to come to this wretched party.

Of course, I had little choice. My family, the Duvals, were barely clinging to their status, and everyone knew it. The invitations I received weren’t because I was welcome, they were because everyone wanted to bask in the schadenfreude of watching the once-prominent Duval family teeter on the brink of losing everything. That’s why I found myself at yet another gathering, pretending to fit in while my family’s fortunes slipped further through our fingers.

 Lady Jane, our host, sat near the center of the room, surrounded by her usual crowd of sycophants. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her thinly veiled hostility or the saccharine sweetness she used to mask it. Either way, she made my skin crawl and today, her vitriol was aimed squarely at the Royal Family of Asgard.

“Can you believe it?” Lady Jane sneered, her voice carrying across the room. “That woman, Cyan, is to be our future queen? It’s an outrage! A commoner, raised among peasants, is supposed to marry the crowned prince? What are they thinking?!”

Her audience murmured their agreement, some nodding so vigorously I wondered if their heads might fall off. They all knew better than to cross Lady Jane, who was still nursing her bitter disappointment over not being chosen by the prince herself. 

“I was so certain Thor had his eye on me,” Jane continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “But instead, they choose a woman without breeding, without class! Imagine Queen Freya’s humiliation.”

One of the ladies beside her leaned in. “I’ve heard the queen is mortified. She’s so ashamed of the match that she barely speaks of it.”

 I tried to tune out their gossip, but it was impossible. This was what passed for entertainment among women like Jane,tearing down anyone who dared to rise above their station.  

I took a small sip of tea, my gaze wandering to where my younger sister, Saffron, sat. She was newly debuted, and though she carried herself with grace, I knew she felt as out of place as I did. It was hard not to, with the ever-looming threat of our family’s collapse hanging over our heads. 

 “The only good thing to come from this debacle,” Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts, “is the ball they’re throwing to celebrate the engagement. At least we’ll get a grand event out of it.”

 The other women tittered with laughter, clearly enjoying the idea of a lavish ball more than the prospect of a common-born queen.

And to think," Jane added, her voice lowering, "there were times Thor would have done anything to get under my skirts. What a shame he felt the need to settle for Cyan."

The room erupted into gasps and giggles, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The audacity. The rumor about Lady Jane and Thor had been swirling for ages, but I had my doubts. If Thor had ever entertained such an affair, he certainly wasn’t entertaining it now.

 I leaned back against my chair, feeling invisible and detached from their world of petty gossip and social climbing. The Duvals may have been struggling, but at least we hadn’t descended to Lady Jane’s level of desperation. Not yet, anyway.

 As the conversation continued to swirl around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for someone like Cyan, entering a world that was waiting for her to fail. And as much as I despised Lady Jane’s cruelty, I also feared for what might be in store for me and Saffron. After all, even those who seemed untouchable could easily be cast aside.

The tea party was a spectacle of opulence, an excuse for the nobility to gather and show off their status. I sat toward the edge of the gathering with Saffron, doing my best to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult, most of the women here treated us as though we didn’t exist. I should’ve known better than to come, but Mother had insisted we make an appearance. As if mingling with these people could somehow save the Duval name.

I heard the snickers before I even focused on the conversation.

"Honestly, it’s a miracle the Duvals are still being invited to these things," Lady Margaret said, her voice unnecessarily loud. She made no effort to lower her tone, her words clearly meant for my ears. "You’d think they’d have the good sense to keep a low profile instead of parading their desperation."

The other women laughed, their voices high and cruel. Saffron’s face turned pale beside me, her fingers nervously clutching her tea. I clenched my fists under the table.

"They’re just biding their time, hoping to sell off one of those pretty daughters to keep the estate afloat," Lady Sharon added, her gaze flickering over to us briefly. "Though I doubt anyone of real consequence would be interested."

The comment hung in the air, and the group of women dissolved into more laughter. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was as if our very existence amused them, as if our struggles were a source of entertainment.

“Pathetic,” Jane sneered. “Trying to scrape by with the little dignity they have left.I would have never invited them had mother not insisted”

The tension within me snapped.

I stood up slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. "It’s curious, Lady Jane," I said, my voice calm though every word was sharpened with intention, "how loudly you speak about dignity when it’s something you’ve long since thrown away."

The laughter died abruptly, and all eyes turned to me. Saffron looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. But I had reached my limit.

Jane blinked, her mouth tightening. "Excuse me?"

I stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve heard the rumors, Jane. Everyone has. You thought lying on your back would secure yourself a crown, as if a few stolen moments beneath a prince would make you queen." I let the words sink in, watching as Jane’s composure faltered. "It’s rather tragic, really, how you’ve convinced yourself that by spreading your legs, you could spread your influence."

There was a collective gasp from the group, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Jane’s face went pale, then flushed a deep crimson. “You—how dare you speak to me like that!”

"I dare because it's the truth," I said coolly, holding her gaze. "You gamble with your pride, and yet here you are, no crown, no prince, no claim, just a scorned woman who can’t seem to grasp why a prince didn’t choose her."

The room had gone deathly silent. Saffron was staring at me, wide-eyed, and the other ladies looked like they couldn’t decide whether to intervene or flee. Jane’s face contorted with fury, but before she could spit out a retort, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"Next time you want to mock someone’s struggles, Jane, make sure your own failures aren’t quite so obvious."

I straightened up and walked back toward my seat, feeling every pair of eyes on me. Saffron looked at me as though I’d just declared war on the entire room, her hands trembling in her lap.

I could feel Jane’s burning stare, her dignity in tatters, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. The truth had been laid bare, and no amount of biting retort could salvage her pride now.

"Saffron, let’s go." My voice was steady, though my heart still raced from the confrontation. I guided my sister out of the room, her arm linked through mine, and we stepped out into the cool air, away from the judgment and venom of those who thrived on misfortune.

We were still the subject of their gossip, still teetering on the edge of ruin. But I wouldn’t let them crush us. Not without a fight.

Baroness Helena Duval, my mother, paced the drawing room, her eyes sharp and angry as she threw a furious glance at me. My father, Reginald, stood at the window with his back to us, silent, as was his usual stance when my mother unleashed her wrath.

"I can't believe you! Every invitation we had received, every opportunity to mingle with those that could possibly save us, gone!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

I remained silent, standing in the corner with Saffron beside me, while my mother focused all her ire on me. "Do you understand what you've done? Lady Jane is connected to half the nobility in the kingdom! And what do you do? Confront her about her...fraternizing with the Crown Prince?"

She spat out the last words as if they were poison, her tone as biting as ever. But I wasn’t about to apologize, not to Lady Jane, and certainly not for speaking the truth.

Helena's sharp eyes flicked over to Saffron, softening just a touch as she sighed deeply. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Graceful, quiet, and demure. Everything a young lady should be."

Saffron, at those words, dropped her head in shame, and my heart clenched for her. I knew she hated when our mother used her as an example, especially because "graceful and demure" really meant spineless. Saffron had told me that, late one night when we were younger, and ever since then, whenever someone praised her, I knew she felt nothing but shame.

I reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze, letting her know I understood. I wasn’t offended by my mother’s words; I knew this was simply how she thought. To her, Saffron was the perfect daughter, the one who played her role quietly, and I- well, I was the one who didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

My mother’s sharp eyes softened momentarily when she noticed me grab Saffron’s hand, but her anger was far from gone. She let out a deep, exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to me, her voice dripping with frustration.

“What in God's name possessed you to confront Lady Jane in the first place?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not quite as biting as before.

I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly. "She called us pathetic," I said simply.

She paused, her eyes flickering with something close to understanding. For a brief moment, the fury drained from her face, and she almost looked sympathetic. Almost.

"I understand your frustration, Honey. Truly, I do," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But jumping straight into social suicide...was that really the best course of action?"

I bit my tongue, looking down at my feet. No, it wasn’t.

 "We are on the verge of losing everything," she said, her voice softer but filled with a different kind of anger. "This was our chance, Honey. The ball, the invitations...they were supposed to help secure our future. Now-now we are outcasts. Again."

I said nothing, knowing full well she wasn’t looking for a reply. But deep down, I couldn’t regret my actions, not when I thought of the smug look on Lady Jane’s face as she droned on about her imagined place in the royal court.

As my mother left the room in frustration, I turned to Saffron, squeezing her hand again. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on both of us, and there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of it.

“At least we won’t be wasting any more money on dresses and jewelry,” I muttered under my breath.

At that, my father let out a hearty laugh, walking up to the both of us but locking his gaze on me.

“You realize what you did could ruin us, right?” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and warning.

I dropped my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Yes, Father,” I answered, my voice begrudging but respectful.

He grunted, smirking as he leaned down to kiss both Saffron and me on the forehead.

“Don’t worry too much, my dear. We’ll get through this, like we always have,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive of the severity of the situation.

It didn't erase the weight of my mother’s words or the danger we were in, but my father’s confidence, misplaced or not, eased the tension for moments as brief as these.

The Duvals were enjoying a rare moment of quiet in their living space. Saffron and Mother were embroidering by the window, their needles gliding through fabric with delicate precision. Father and I sat side by side, each absorbed in the local news when our butler, Gerard, suddenly burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Baroness, Baron! You’ve received an invitation from the palace!" he announced, holding the crisp, cream-colored envelope as though it were made of pure gold. 

Mother looked up from her embroidery, visibly shocked. "An invitation?" she murmured, her voice barely hiding her surprise. I could see it in her eyes, she had resigned herself to a quiet fall from grace, expecting our family to fade into the background without further notice. Yet here was a summons, proof that the royal family had not completely turned its back on us.

Father reached for the envelope, breaking the royal seal. He cleared his throat before reading aloud: “You are cordially invited to the engagement party of the Crown Prince Thor and his fiancée Cyan.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips. Of all the people to be engaged to a prince, it was Lady Cyan. She had no title and no noble lineage to speak of, yet here she was, about to marry the future king.What a fairytale. The invitation, unsurprisingly, didn’t mention any title for Lady Cyan, she had none yet, but once she married Thor, she would become the Crowned Princess.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of delight. Deep down, I couldn’t deny my penchant for stirring the pot of intrigue. And watching someone like Cyan, a peasant girl, rise to a position of power was sure to throw the entire class system into chaos. And with our family teetering on the edge of ruin, what was the harm in finding a little entertainment before we were booted from high society?

The evening of the party arrived quickly. The Royal Garden was breathtaking, every inch of it meticulously prepared for the grand affair. Saffron and I stood by the fountain, sipping champagne and enjoying the soothing trickle of the water as we waited for the royal family to make their entrance.

When they finally appeared, the crowd gasped in awe. King Odin and Queen Freya entered first, regal as ever, their presence demanding respect. Hela and Loki followed, each exuding their own form of royal authority. And then, the couple of the hour, Prince Thor and Lady Cyan.

I nearly choked on my champagne when I saw Lady Cyan.

She looked... awful.

Her hair was down but tangled and unbrushed, her makeup was smeared and unflattering, and worst of all, she wore a dress that had been popular last season, as if she hadn’t noticed the fashion had moved on. Even her shoes were an insult,flats, when everyone knew a proper royal event required heels. It was clear to me that the palace maids had set her up for failure, likely encouraged by none other than the ladies in waiting, who were no doubt snickering behind her back.

A quick glance toward Lady Jane confirmed my suspicions. There she was, surrounded by her loyal gaggle of women, all of them giggling into their gloves like schoolgirls. I could practically hear the whispers, whispers that Jane herself had probably orchestrated.

Yet, even as Cyan stood there, a vision of royal disaster, Thor remained unfazed. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the room, his eyes filled with love and admiration. It was almost endearing, in a sickening sort of way.

When the time came for the royals to mingle, I made sure to stay out of the way. I had no intention of angering Mother any further after the debacle with Lady Jane. Saffron, naturally, trailed behind me like a shadow, her shy demeanor making her hesitant to stray too far. She chattered quietly about a romance novel she’d been reading with her friends, her soft voice blending with the music that floated through the garden. Just as she was getting to a particularly juicy part, where the Duke of the novel had finally caught the Princess in a compromising position, our mother appeared, with Duke Bruce Banner in tow.

Mother’s smile was painfully forced as she practically pushed Saffron into Duke Banner’s path. "Saffron, darling, the Duke was just asking about you," she cooed, already working her magic to arrange yet another another potential match for her favorite child. Despite Saffron’s beauty,for some reason her shy and quiet nature had kept many potential husbands at bay, one would think they’d enjoy it.But Mother wasn’t one to give up easily.

I stood back, watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Saffron might be the favorite, but she hated being paraded around like this. I gave her a sympathetic glance before turning my attention elsewhere. I had no interest in finding a match tonight, especially not when I was feeling like a mere observer to a world that was slipping away from us.

While Mother busied herself with Saffron and the Duke, I slipped away, seeking solace at the border where the Royal Garden met the Royal Forest. The sounds of the party grew distant as I found a quiet bench beneath a cluster of trees, my thoughts swirling as I sipped the last of my champagne. This engagement party was a disaster for Lady Cyan, and no doubt her ascension would continue to be entertaining, if nothing else, it would distract the nobles from our impending downfall.

The sound of a timid "Oh" pulled me from the quiet of my thoughts. I turned my head and found the future Crowned Princess standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Lady Cyan stammered, already stepping back as though she had committed some great offense.

“Nonsense,” I replied, rising from my seat near the edge of the garden. “If anything, I am intruding on your walk.” I bowed my head before making my way elsewhere, but she quickly spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Could you stay? I mean... if you don’t mind.”

I paused, unsure if I should humor the girl or retreat to the quiet, I had sought. Yet when I looked at her, there was something in her manner that reminded me of Saffron, fragile, in need of protection, utterly ill-suited to the cruel ways of this world. With a slight nod I sat back down, on bench, and she hurried to sit next to me. How unflattering for a future queen.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, the air between us light but unspoken words hanging on the edge of her lips. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't realize the noble world could be so cruel."

I glanced at her sideways. “Prince Thor did not warn you?”

She looked down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “He didn’t have time, considering how he picked me from a crowd.”

Now, that caught my attention. “How do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

Lady Cyan glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then spoke in a lowered tone, “I used to be... a lady of the night.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “Thor was just a regular customer. I never got the chance to see the royal family, so I didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t use his name either, he just called himself Donar.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. This was... extraordinary. “How did you come to be his fiancée?” I asked, genuinely intrigued now.

Lady Cyan sighed. “I was out one morning buying groceries for my mother when a knight seized me and pulled me into a carriage with Thor. That’s when he told me who he really was. He said he wanted me to marry him.”

I blinked, trying to suppress a laugh. “And you thought this was... what? A joke?”

“At first, yes,” she said with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “The next thing I knew, my mother and I were having breakfast with the king and queen.”

Now, this was beyond amusing. I had always known Prince Thor to be impulsive, rumors about him were legendary, but this? This was another level entirely. A peasant marrying into royalty was scandalous enough, but a former courtesan? The whole system was bound to erupt. I could hardly contain my amusement.

Lady Cyan frowned slightly, noticing my reaction. “What’s so funny?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, it’s nothing... except how very on-brand this is for Prince Thor. You should be careful, though. That bit of information? You should keep it to yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

I waved a hand. “Of course not. But be warned, others won’t be so kind. You’d best keep quiet about your past if you want to survive this court.”

Lady Cyan nodded, her expression softening into one of gratitude. “I was just... so grateful to be here. To wear such fine clothing...”

I looked at her more closely. And her ungodly look “Who dressed you for tonight?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Hela had some of her ladies-in-waiting help me,” she replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t let them help you again. They made you look ragged, and it was likely intentional.”

Her face fell. “I had a feeling when everyone started laughing at me... The servants say awful things when they think I’m not listening. That Lady Jane should have been Thor’s bride. They don’t know why he chose me.”

My blood boiled. “Fuck them,” I said without thinking.

Lady Cyan gasped, clearly shocked by my language. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, you need to build your own court. Your own ladies-in-waiting, your own servants,and most importantly your own thick-skin. As long as these current people remain, they will never respect you, and they will always try to make you look the fool.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that...”

I gave her a stern look. “Do you want to be treated like this for the rest of your life?”

She fell silent.

“You’re going to be queen one day. Prince Thor would give you anything you ask for, that I could clearly see, so use that power. Snuggle up to him, get what you need, and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a long time, Lady Cyan. You might as well rule in comfort.”

She nodded slowly; her gaze thoughtful. I could tell she was unsure of herself, but if she had any hope of surviving this world, she would need to learn quickly. And if I had to give her a push in the right direction, so be it.

“Cyan!” A voice cut through the stillness of the garden, deep and unmistakably male.

Both of us turned toward the sound, and soon enough, Prince Loki stepped into view. His presence carried the same shadowy grace as always, but this time, his gaze briefly flickered to me before settling on Cyan.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said smoothly, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer. “I suggest you go calm him before he sends out a search party.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lady Cyan hurriedly stood, her flustered movements betraying her nervousness. I rose to my feet as well, out of courtesy.

“Thank you so much for the advice...” Lady Cyan paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Honey. Honey Duval.” I offered my hand, knowing full well it was improper, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shook it with the casual grace of someone entirely untrained in court etiquette.

“I’m Cyan,” she smiled, her warmth genuine if not misplaced.

“I know” I retort, a smile on my face

I made a mental note: the girl would need to refine such small gestures if she hoped to command any respect in the court. There was more to being a princess than simply having the prince’s affection.

I watched as  she hurried away, her pace quickening as she no doubt rushed to find her fiancé before he acted on Prince Loki’s warning. Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned, ready to find my family, only to realize Prince Loki hadn’t moved. He was still standing near, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I immediately curtsied. “Prince Loki,” I murmured, trying to sound composed as I stood straight again, preparing to make my exit.

But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me cold. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

I froze, the weight of his words pulling me back in place. “Duval,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate, letting the name roll off his tongue as though it were some kind of secret he was savoring. Then he moved toward me, closing the distance until he was standing mere inches from my face.

Prince Loki was an intimidating man, far more dangerous than most cared to admit. I’d heard the stories, of course, of the legendary battles between him and Prince Thor, the ferocity with which they fought their enemies and, at times, each other. And though I prided myself on my resolve, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear. His presence, so dark and calculated, was enough to unsettle even the strongest of wills.

“You are of a house with status,Barons, I believe?” His words were a statement, not a question, as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Prince Loki,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “So, then you should’ve known better than to extend your hand to the future ruler of Asgard.”

I stiffened at the reprimand. I knew I’d made a mistake, but hearing it so coldly from his lips made it sting all the more. He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose... what else could one expect from a falling house?”

His words were a dagger. Before I could stop myself, my spine straightened, and the retort slipped from my lips without a second thought. “Nothing as bad as one would expect from a treacherous prince.”

The moment the words escaped me, regret surged through my veins like ice. I had struck too close to the truth, to the rumors that still clung to his name even after all these years. I knew of Loki’s dark history, how, as a young man, he had once betrayed Asgard by siding with Jotunheim in a fit of jealousy, trying to seize the throne from King Odin and Prince Thor. Though he had redeemed himself by turning around and conquering Jotunheim, earning back the trust of the kingdom, the title of “Treacherous Prince” still lingered in whispers.

Personally, I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s so eager to switch sides.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately began to apologize, my voice rushing out in a panic. “Prince Loki, I didn’t mean-”

He squinted, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but to my surprise, there was amusement as well. His lips curled into a smirk; his expression unreadable. “Bold,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “But foolish. You may Go.”

Then, before I could react, he grabbed me, pulling me roughly against his chest. My heart pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, I have more power than you. And with that power, I can do far more damage.”

He released me with a shove, and I stumbled back, fear and dread gripping my heart. The reality of what I’d just done washed over me like a tidal wave. Loki was not the type of man to forgive easily, and I had just signed the Duval family’s death warrant with my reckless words.

Terrified, I hurried away, my mind racing as I realized just how dire our situation had become. If Loki so wished, he could destroy us with a single utterance, and I had just given him reason to do so.

Several weeks had passed without a single word from the palace. It was strange, the quiet. The Duvals had not received any invitations to events or gatherings, but oddly enough, things seemed to be looking up,at least on the surface. Duke Banner’s interest in Saffron had become more obvious with each passing day. Bouquets of delicate flowers arrived regularly, along with boxes of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. He must have somehow learned of Saffron’s love for such indulgences. While I found his eagerness unsettling, Mother insisted it was nothing to be concerned about, calling it a sign of his devotion.

But I could see the confusion in Saffron’s eyes. She didn’t know how to respond to the Duke’s affections. Her heart was too gentle, too uncertain. She was torn between her own feelings and the expectations placed upon her. I couldn’t blame her,I had my own storm to contend with.

Prince Loki. The memory of our confrontation still hung over me like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding, threatening to break at any moment. I had said nothing to Mother, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable disaster. Confiding in her would only shatter this brief illusion of peace.

That afternoon, Saffron and I were sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of spades, trying to enjoy the mild weather. The gentle breeze was soothing, if only for a moment. But then, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the calm.

Both of us snapped our heads toward the commotion, just in time to see Mother rushing toward us, the head maid trailing closely behind. Her hands waved an envelope above her head, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight.

My stomach lurched. This was it. The reckoning I had feared.

Saffron, always attuned to my unease, clasped my hand under the table, offering silent comfort. She knew everything that happened with Prince Loki. We told each other everything.

Mother reached us, breathless, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Honey!” she exclaimed, waving the envelope as if it were a priceless relic. “You’ve been summoned to the royal palace!”

I froze, my heart pounding. What?

Mother continued, her voice filled with barely contained glee. “You’ve been called to interview as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen!”

The words barely registered. “What?” I whispered, my voice thin and shaky. I glanced at Saffron, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her wide eyes. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest.

But Mother, oblivious to the shock etched on our faces, began reading the letter aloud. The future queen, Cyan, had personally selected me for consideration. Me. Out of all the girls. The words blurred together as my mind drifted back to Loki. Had he said nothing? Was this a game?

Mother’s excited voice pulled me back to the present as she finished reading, her arms suddenly wrapping around Saffron and me in a tight embrace. “This is it! Things are finally looking up!” she squealed, her joy almost tangible. “This is exactly what we needed!”

I remained silent, my thoughts spinning out of control. This invitation, no, this summons,could either be our salvation or the final blow that brought everything crashing down. And somehow, I knew… this wasn’t a coincidence.

I sat across from Lady Cyan in the quiet Receiving Room, the silence hanging heavily between us. She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the edge of her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the moment. I waited, wondering if she would speak first, but when it became apparent she was at a loss, I decided to break the silence.

"Your Highness," I began, keeping my voice measured, "is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Lady Cyan blinked, as though startled by the question. "Oh," she replied softly, her uncertainty palpable. "I... I’m not really sure what I should ask. I requested that the Queen and Princess Hela be present, but they... well, they refused."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and I realized, once again, how out of place she must feel here. The future Queen of Asgard, yet still lost within the complexities of court.

"Would you like me to guide you, Your Highness?" I offered gently, knowing she needed a nudge.

She nodded, looking relieved. "Yes, please."

"Well," I began, "what do you think of me as a candidate so far?"

Lady Cyan straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly more formal. "I like you. I think you would have my back. Even Loki agrees."

“Prince Loki?” I asked 

She nodded “Yes, in fact when I mentioned That I would like to get my own Ladies in Waiting, he suggested you as the first one.”

How Curious.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her directness. "Right.” I chose then to ignore the mention of Prince Loki “So then,Why do you like me, and how do you believe that would benefit you in the court?"

She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter, almost vulnerable. "Since I arrived at the palace, I’ve felt like an outsider. No one truly talks to me, except Thor. The conversation we had in the royal garden…" she trailed off, as if collecting her thoughts. "It felt real, like I could tell you anything. And when you advised me not to spread the truth of my past, I felt... safe. You didn’t judge me, and you kept your word so far. I haven’t heard any whispers of it since. That’s why I feel like I can trust you."

She glanced down at her lap, her tone sincere but unsure, as if she feared I might turn her words against her. There was a certain naivety about her, but it was clear she was trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the court. I folded my hands in my lap and smiled softly.

"So you met me and felt that I could be useful to you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Lady Cyan's eyes widened, shaking her head frantically. "Oh no, I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her flustered reaction. "That’s the system, Your Highness. Everyone in court uses everyone else to further their own agendas. If you are deemed useless, they’ll find a way to cast you aside."

Lady Cyan nodded slowly, absorbing my words like a student eager to learn. She seemed to be coming to terms with the harsh reality of her new life. This wasn’t the world of commoners she once knew; here, survival depended on alliances and strategic moves.

"So," I pressed on, "since you already had a good impression of me during our first meeting, what is it you’re trying to confirm now, in this interview?"

Lady Cyan shifted, clearly embarrassed again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well... I wanted to hire you immediately, but Queen Freya said that was nonsense. She told me I should at least have an interview with you first."

It was clear that Queen Freya expected me to decline her request. After all, who in their right mind would willingly work under a former commoner, especially with my family teetering on the brink of ruin? But the Queen, in all her wisdom and grandeur, had overestimated my penchant for pride and underestimated the deep-rooted vitriol I held for the very system that sought to throw me and my family to the dogs.

I couldn't help but smile at her honesty, and there was something endearing about her candor. It was clear she was out of her depth, but there was potential in her, potential that could be nurtured if handled correctly. I leaned forward, my tone reassuring.

"Then, Your Highness, you have my word. If you choose to have me by your side, I will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this court. But remember, loyalty goes both ways. I will protect you, but I ask for the same in return."

Lady Cyan met my gaze, her expression softening with relief. "I understand, Honey. Thank you."

I nodded, knowing that from this moment forward, I had entered a dangerous alliance. The future Queen would need more than just trust; she would need strength. And if I was to help her navigate the world she had been thrust into, I would have to play this game carefully, for both our sakes.

My first week working under Lady Cyan, I made it clear that I was there to observe. She agreed, a bit relieved, I think. I spent the week silently watching the way the servants treated her, the way the butlers undermined her every word, and how Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, who were temporarily assigned to her, blatantly ignored her.

Lady Cyan mostly ate alone with her mother, and when they did, it was pitiful. They served them meals that even my own family, on the verge of ruin, would refuse. But when she dined with Prince Thor, everything was immaculate, like a magic switch had been flipped. Even Prince Thor’s courtiers, the ones supposed to show respect to the future queen, treated her poorly.

 And then there was the mountain of paperwork they threw at her, expecting her to understand and manage the upkeep of the palace without any guidance. It was clear that she was not only doing her work but the work of Hela’s ladies-in-waiting as well.

I had seen enough.

"Why haven’t you hired the new staff after I told you to?" I asked her one afternoon.

She sighed; exhaustion etched into every feature. "I haven’t had the time," she said.

"Of course you haven’t," I retorted. "You’re buried in work that doesn’t even belong to you."

As I watched her, overwhelmed and far too thin, I was reminded again of Saffron. Someone kind, gentle, and easily taken advantage of. This was more work than I’d intended to take on, but someone needed to help her.

"First things first," I said, taking hold of her wrist gently. "We’re hiring you a personal chef. You’re entirely too thin, and it’s obvious the kitchen staff has no intention of keeping you healthy."

"Will I be able to?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I don’t know. What do your funds look like?"

"Oh, I don’t—"

I didn’t let her finish. I strode over to her desk, pulling out her accounting book. As I read through the pages, it was clear. The funds allocated to Lady Cyan were being skimmed, and heavily. According to the records, she was eating lavish meals, wearing the latest fashions, and buying expensive jewelry. And yet, here she was, sitting in a handdown dress, malnourished and mistreated.

"When was the last time you spent any of the funds given to you?" I asked, holding the book up to her.

Lady Cyan’s face crumpled in confusion. "I didn’t know I was receiving any funds. Prince Thor didn’t tell me."

I shut the book with a sharp thud. "He’s not supposed to. That’s the job of his courtier. His courtier was meant to show you how to manage your paperwork, how your finances work, and how to oversee your responsibilities, both in maintaining the palace and fulfilling your duties to the kingdom."

Cyan blinked, clearly overwhelmed. This explained everything. No wonder she hadn’t hosted any balls or tea parties, and why she was wearing tattered clothing.

"Someone is stealing from you," I said firmly, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. "And I’m willing to bet the accountant knows exactly who."

 I shut her books and tucked them under my arm, turning to Lady Cyan with a calm but firm expression. “Show me where accounting is.”

She perked up immediately. “Oh, okay.” She started to stand, but as soon as she did, I noticed her posture was completely atrocious, slouched shoulders, head bowed. I stopped her with a slight raise of my hand.

“Before we continue, straighten your back, stretch your neck, and hold your head high,” I instructed. Lady Cyan blinked at me but did as I asked. I spent a few moments adjusting her posture, teaching her how to carry herself with dignity. She still moved with a bit of awkwardness, but with practice, she would improve.

As we made our way to the accounting office, I trailed behind her, as any good lady-in-waiting would. When we arrived, Lady Cyan politely asked the receptionist, Miss Elara Merton, if she could meet with Lord Gregor Voss.

Merton barely glanced at us and replied with obvious disdain, “He’s busy.”

I felt my temper flare. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said, stepping past her and bursting into the office. I had no patience left. Lady Cyan was being mistreated at every turn in this castle, and I couldn’t help but think had it been me the castle would have long ago been set ablazed.

There was Lord Voss, in all his disgrace, caught mid-act with a woman who was most certainly not Lady Voss. The woman, mortified, hurriedly gathered her things and bolted from the room.

“What the hell?” Lord Voss spluttered, adjusting his trousers.

“The future Queen of Asgard wishes to speak with you,” I said coolly.

He looked past me and saw Lady Cyan, standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and expectancy.

“I’m busy,” he repeated, sounding more defensive than before.

“Oh, we can see that,” I replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the scene. I couldn’t wait to tell Saffron about this later.

I ushered Lady Cyan into the room as Miss Merton approached, trying to assert some sort of authority. I stepped up to her, meeting her eyes with an intimidating glare that left no room for argument. “Step back,” I said, my tone commanding. Intimidated, she complied, and I shut the door behind us.

I walked up to Lord Voss and fixed him with a stare. “Tell us who has been taking money from Lady Cyan’s funds.”

Voss blinked, taken aback by the direct question, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lady Cyan has been making purchases on her own,” he said with a practiced smoothness. “Just check her accounting book. Her ladies-in-waiting bring in the necessary—"

“So, Hela’s ladies-in-waiting are stealing from Cyan?” I cut in sharply.

“I did not say that,” he stammered. “I was simply—"

“Of course you did,” I interrupted, holding up the accounting book I had taken. “Jewelry, clothing, shoes, and food, purchases made with her funds. Yet, look at her.” I gestured toward Cyan, who stood looking pale and tired, her dress ill-fitting and her frame almost fragile. “She wears none of it, and she’s thin as a pencil. The ladies-in-waiting have been making these purchases for themselves. They are stealing from her.”

“Baroness Duval—” Voss began.

“That’s my mother,” I said, flashing him a cold smile. “Just call me Lady Honey.”

“Right,” Voss muttered, leaning in to whisper, “Lady Honey. Between you and I, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hoarding it all.”

That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough that he could see the fire in my eyes. Cyan gasped softly behind me.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a man,” I hissed. “If you do not tell us who’s been stealing from the future Queen of Asgard, the next person walking through those doors will be the Crowned Prince Thor himself.” His eyes widened in fear, and I pressed further. “Or maybe I should let Lady Voss know exactly what you’ve been up to at work, since we all know who truly runs your household.”

Voss paled and quickly surrendered. “Okay, okay, it is Lady Vivienne, a maid named Kelly, and Lord Cyril Vance.”

“How spineless.” I shoved him back, wiping my hands of his filth. With a gentle voice I turn to Lady Cyan “Let us go.” as I have her walk ahead of me

I opened the door for her, and she walked out with her head held a little higher than before. When we returned to her office,she collapsed into tears, overwhelmed by the realization of how many people had been betraying her.

“Lady Vivienne is one of Princess Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, and Lord Cyril Vance is Thor’s courtier,” she sobbed. “What am I to do now?”

I embraced her gently, offering comfort before I spoke firmly. “You fire them.”

She stops to look at me, as if I’d said something ridiculous “I can’t do that,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Then ask Prince Thor to do it,” I suggested.

“But I—”

“Listen, Lady Cyan,” I interrupted softly but seriously. “You need a completely new court. Not only are they insulting you, but they’re also stealing from you. I understand you don’t want to rattle the cage, but you must do the uncomfortable things now so that you can be comfortable later. You have power now. Use it.”

She paused, considering my words. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered, “Okay.”

For the next several months, Cyan had gone on a thorough firing spree, and anyone she couldn’t directly remove was replaced for personal matters, leaving them slowly edged out. I was with her every step of the way, ensuring that each word she spoke was met with the respect and dignity she deserved.

The first major task was sending Hela back her ladies-in-waiting. Lady Cyan, with newfound confidence, informed Hela that Vivienne had been embezzling money from her books. I made sure to advise her to suggest Hela check her own accounts. It wasn’t long before Lady Vivienne was escorted from the palace in disgrace.

Thor’s reaction to Lord Cyril’s involvement in stealing from Lady Cyan was nothing short of fury. He dismissed Cyril immediately, along with the maid Kelly, their reputations shattered beyond repair. No person of prominence would dare to hire them again.

During these palace changes, I cleverly slipped in a word about the kitchen staff feeding Lady Cyan slop. If anyone should have a personal chef, it was her. Prince Thor did one better, he replaced the entire kitchen staff, ensuring that the finest food was prepared for everyone in the palace. He made it very clear that if anyone was served less than what was expected, they would face the gallows. Since then,Lady Cyan’s figure has filled out, and she looks much healthier, with her own strength returning.

She also found herself a new accountant. Prince Thor and I convinced her not to continue relying on Voss, given his negligence. Instead, I helped her hire a young man named Edric Hale. He seemed sharp, rigid, and incredibly thorough, like someone who wouldn’t let anything slip by unnoticed. And I was right, Edric was so good at his job that he not only fixed inconsistencies within Lady Cyans books but uncovered six more individuals committing fraud under the royal name. It wasn’t long before Voss was removed from his post, and Hale was promoted to Royal Financial Advisor.

Even Prince Thor’s courtier was replaced, as I recommended Sir Alistair Graves during the hiring process.He was tall, unsettling, and mysterious, Alistair's appearance drew questions from Prince Thor and Lady Cyan alike, but Alistair soon proved himself to be an invaluable asset.I was right again.

Surprisingly, Thor and Alistair developed a close bond, despite his eerie demeanor.

After all this, Lady Cyan finally had time to hire her own ladies-in-waiting. To my amusement, Lady Jane and Lady Sharon applied for the position. Needless to say, they weren’t hired. I took personal joy in turning them down during the vetting process. Instead, Lady Cyan appointed Lady Natasha Romanoff and Lady Pepper Potts, both competent and trustworthy. As the wedding drew closer, the palace bustled with preparations, fully ready to receive her as the Crowned Princess of Asgard.

The first time I noticed Queen Freya's distaste for me, it was subtle, a cold glance from across the room as I sat with Lady Cyan during a court gathering. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Surely, a queen had more important matters to concern herself with than a mere lady-in-waiting. But as the weeks passed, it became clear: it wasn’t just a glance,it was a warning.

Every time Lady Cyan made progress, especially with my guidance, Queen Freya's irritation grew more obvious.

I remember standing in the corner of the throne room when Vivienne was escorted out by the guards. Queen Freya had been across the hall, watching. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something, annoyance, perhaps even hatred. I had facilitated that firing, and she knew it.

Later, as I escorted Lady Cyan from the council room, the Queen called out to me, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade.

"Lady Honey," she began, forcing me to turn back. "You've done such a... thorough job cleaning up the mess around the palace." The way she said "thorough" was laced with disdain. "Though, I do wonder, have you left anything for Lady Cyan to do herself?"

I bristled at the remark, but I kept my expression neutral. "Her Highness has made all the decisions. I simply advised her where necessary." I could not allow my mouth to ruin this for me.

The Queen smiled that thin, humorless smile of hers. "Of course. But do be careful. A lady of your... talents should know when to step back. We wouldn’t want to overshadow the future princess, now, would we?"

The words cut deeper than intended. She wasn’t praising me. She was warning me. I was doing too much, and that didn’t sit well with her.

As Lady Cyan continued to gain confidence, Freya’s hostility grew. When Thor replaced the kitchen staff, I could see the Queen’s patience slipping further. I once overheard her speaking to Hela’s remaining ladies-in-waiting about how “some people simply don’t know their place” as I passed through the halls. I had no doubt she was referring to me.

It all came to a head during one of our morning meetings. I was assisting Cyan with the latest preparations for her upcoming wedding, ensuring all the details were perfect, when Queen Freya entered the room, her presence like a sudden frost in the air.

"Lady Honey," she addressed me without looking directly at Cyan. "It seems you’ve become quite indispensable. How fortunate for Lady Cyan."

I curtsied, though my stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

"You've certainly made an impression," she continued, her voice sharp, "but one wonders if you've made the right kind."

There was no mistake in her meaning. I had been far too effective in my role, far too supportive of Cyan. Queen Freya wasn’t just irritated anymore, she was furious.

Unfortunately, during all of this, I had to deal with Prince Loki breathing down my neck. He insisted on my company far too often, even intruding on Lady Cyan’s morning teas, meant for us to go over her itinerary. He was relentless.

One morning, after Loki had finally left, opting to go train I couldn’t hold back. “That man is infuriating,” I muttered, still editing the itinerary.

“You mean Prince Loki of Asgard?” Lady Romanoff asked with a smirk.

“Who else?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I think it’s sweet that he’s found interest in you,” Lady Potts chimed in, her words slightly tentative. “And, well, at least you’d know your future is secure if you married him.” She was prone to putting her foot in her mouth without realizing it.

I gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “Did you manage to find a venue for the next royal tea party?”

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly handing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of available venues for the date we need. I’ve marked the ones that would be most appropriate.”

Despite her occasional blunders, Potts was excellent at her job. I could always count on her efficiency.

With new ladies-in-waiting and the right servants, Lady Cyan was finally surrounded by a supportive circle. Her transformation was undeniable, and I was proud to have played a role in it.

Lady Cyan’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “Would it be so wrong to consider Prince Loki?”

I nearly scoffed. “If I were interested, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” she suggested, her large doe eyes gazing at me earnestly.

I sighed. I was ready to dismiss the notion entirely, but those eyes… “I’ll think about it,” I conceded, though the thought made me cringe inwardly.

“That’s all I ask,” Cyan said with a sweet smile.

I shook my head, standing up. “I’ll be back. I need to confirm a few numbers with Edric.” I made my way to the door, hearing the giggles of the other ladies as I left the room.

It took a tremendous amount of work, but for the first time, I felt I had done right by Lady Cyan. She had a proper support system now, and she was ready to step into her role as Crowned Princess of Asgard.

As I walked down the palace halls toward accounting, my footsteps slowed as I passed the training grounds. There, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was Prince Loki, sparring with one of the knights. His lean, muscular form moved with precision, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself, yes, Prince Loki was a very handsome man. But he was oh so arrogant.

Not to mention, something about him made me uncomfortable, a discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. It was the same feeling I got around Duke Bruce and, on occasion, even Prince Thor. Maybe it had something to do with their high positions of power or the way they carried themselves with an air of control. Whatever it was, I had no interest in exploring it further.

Before I could turn away, I caught Loki’s eye. His gaze locked onto mine, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he waved. My heart skipped a beat, but not from admiration, it was more like a warning bell. I quickly dispersed, pretending not to notice, and rushed down the corridor toward Lord Hale’s office.

After finishing my business with Lord Hale, I made my way back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, feeling a sense of relief that the conversation had gone smoothly. But midway through my return, I found myself stopped by none other than Loki himself.

“May I help you, Prince Loki?” I asked stiffly, my posture rigid as I forced myself to remain composed.

A playful grin adorned his face, and his tone was laced with flirtation. “Oh, nothing in particular, just wanting to chat with the pretty girl who’s managed to turn the palace upside down.”

I straightened my spine. “You mean right side up,” I corrected coolly.

Prince Loki chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. “Well, regardless. Tonight, I’m headed to a gathering. A close friend of mine is planning to ask for a woman’s hand in marriage. Quite the event.And I was wondering if you’d like to attend” he pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “With me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend,” I replied curtly. “I have a gathering of my own tonight.”

He chuckled again,as if he had some kind of secret,  clearly entertained by my formality. “Well, shoot. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together sometime.”

I forced a polite smile. “Of course.” I curtsied briefly, making it clear the conversation was over, and headed back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, the unsettling feeling from earlier creeping back into my chest.

“Do you want me to say something?” I’d asked her multiple times, my voice filled with the urge to protect her, but she always refused, her shy voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she’d insist, and despite my frustration, I respected her decision. So tonight, as always, I played the role of silent protector, standing close to her, watching her every move, and his.

The party was filled with the usual noble chatter and laughter, but I found no comfort in it. Saffron’s uneasy smile, her fidgeting hands, and Duke Bruce’s ever-watchful eyes were the only things I could focus on.

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt someone brush close behind me, their breath warm against my ear. “Hello, Honey.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.Prince Loki. Of course. His voice carried that teasing edge, filled with amusement and arrogance, as if this was all a game to him.

I glanced over my shoulder, my irritation barely concealed. “Are you following me, Prince Loki?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on me as though he found the situation endlessly entertaining. “Following you? No, darling, I’m here for a special moment.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. “And what moment might that be?” I asked, my words clipped.

His smirk widened as he casually nodded toward the center of the room. “That one,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

I followed his gaze and froze. My heart sank as I saw Duke Bruce Banner on one knee, proposing to Saffron in front of the entire room. She stood there, pale and trembling, but with all eyes on her, there was no way out. Her lips moved in slow motion, forming the dreaded word. “Yes.”

Applause filled the room as the crowd celebrated the engagement, toasting to their future. Saffron’s eyes darted toward me, wide with panic, but all I could do was stare, powerless to stop what was happening.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement,” he said, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems Duke Banner will soon be family.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight with barely concealed rage. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Bruce is a close friend of mine. He’s been planning this for some time.”

I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my composure as I watched Saffron, my heart aching for her. Loki’s smug smile felt like salt in the wound. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Honey,” he added, his tone mocking. “I’m sure there will be more surprises to come.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, helpless as my sister’s fate was sealed before my eyes.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress and unanswered questions. Saffron’s engagement to Duke Banner weighed heavily on my mind, though she insisted everything was fine. I knew better. Every night she would come to me, her face tight with worry, sharing how uncomfortable everything made her feel. I’d offered her an out, told her we could make a formal request to call off the engagement, but she refused. She was too afraid of disappointing our parents, especially our mother.

“Everything will be fine,” she’d said with that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes. It made me furious, but I couldn’t force her hand. All I could do was stand by her, ready to step in if things went too far.

And then there was Lady Cyan. Rumors had spread quickly about her being ill, though I had my doubts. Something about it felt... off. The palace was rife with gossip, and yet Prince Thor, always the picture of calm, didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he appeared more focused than ever.

My attempts to see her had been blocked at every turn. Alistair, ever the watchful guard, was always there, standing between me and the answers I sought. A time where I’d tried to visit her, I was met with him stepping out of her chambers just as I approached. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Lady Cyan is resting,” he’d said, his tone polite but firm. His cold, calculating eyes met mine without so much as a flicker of guilt. I couldn’t stand how easily he lied to my face. "She needs her privacy."

“She’s been resting for weeks,” I shot back, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Surely she could spare a moment?”

Alistair didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Her health is delicate. If you truly care for her well-being, you'll give her time.”

His words were a steel wall, and I had no choice but to retreat, fuming. But I didn’t stop trying. Each day, I attempted to get close, whether it was checking in through the maids or attempting another visit myself,but Alistair was always there, standing guard like some immovable sentry.

Pepper and Natasha told me to let it go, that if Prince Thor said she was unwell, it was best to leave it at that. But I couldn’t. Something in my gut told me that there was more to it. And as the days passed, that gnawing suspicion only grew stronger.

It didn’t help that Loki seemed intent on feeding into my doubts, though his information came in small, tantalizing pieces. Each time we crossed paths, he would drop a hint, a little morsel of knowledge that made my curiosity burn brighter. He never gave me the full picture, just enough to keep me coming back for more.

I had just finished reviewing some paperwork with Edric when I stepped out into the hallway. Prince Loki was there, casually leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His eyes immediately found mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Lady Honey,” he greeted, his tone smooth. “Busy day?”

“Always,” I muttered, not in the mood for small talk. “Do you need something?”

He pushed off the wall, sauntering over to me, his presence impossible to ignore. “Not at all. Just curious how Lady Cyan is faring.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, hinting at something beneath the surface.

I stiffened, trying to mask my surprise. “She’s unwell, or so I’ve been told,” I replied carefully, eyeing him. “You would know that if you bothered to ask.”

Prince Loki chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to grab my chin. “Oh, I ask plenty of questions, my dear. Just not to the right people, apparently.” His touch lingered longer than necessary, and before I could say anything, he stepped back with a knowing smile. “Keep an eye on her,” he added, his tone soft but carrying weight.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Days had passed, and Prince Loki’s cryptic comments continued to nag at me. I was heading down the palace corridor, lost in thought, when I felt a sudden arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace. Prince Loki again.

“You always seem so tense, Lady Honey,” he teased, his voice close to my ear. “What has you so worked up this time?”

I tried to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place, his warmth both irritating and oddly comforting. “Prince Loki, I have work to do,” I grumbled. “This isn’t the time.”

He laughed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go. “Is it ever? You’re always working, always investigating. I wonder... what would you do if you found something you weren’t supposed to?”

I stilled at his words, the weight of them sinking in. He knew something. “What are you implying?”

He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say... not everyone in the palace is who they seem. Keep digging, and you might be surprised at what you find.”

I pulled away from him, trying to regain my composure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful,” he replied with a wink before walking off, leaving me even more frustrated than before.

I was pouring over documents late one evening when Prince Loki appeared out of nowhere, his presence once again unsettling but familiar. He stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my back as he leaned in.

“Still working, I see,” he murmured. “Do you ever rest?”

I tensed at the closeness, but his hand was gentle, not imposing. “Someone has to do the work around here,” I replied dryly, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he mused, his fingers lightly tracing down my spine before lifting away. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re just looking for something you shouldn’t be finding.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you ever going to just tell me what you know, or are you going to keep playing these games?”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that, my dear? Sometimes, the best discoveries are made through patience... and persistence.”

Before I could respond, he was gone again, leaving only the faint warmth where his hand had been. 

I stormed through the palace halls, my frustration building with every step. This was the fourth time I’d been turned away from seeing Lady Cyan, and I wasn’t about to let Alistair dismiss me again. My pulse quickened as I approached her chambers, my mind already preparing for a confrontation.

As soon as I reached the door, there he was, Alistair, standing outside with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for me. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Move aside,” I said sharply, not caring how harsh I sounded. “I’m seeing Lady Cyan whether you like it or not.”

Alistair didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed and straightened, blocking the entrance with his large frame. “Young One,” he began in that infuriatingly calm voice, “how many times must we go through this? Lady Cyan is ill, and Prince Thor is taking excellent care of her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “Every time I’ve tried to see her, it’s been the same excuse. Do you think I’m some fool who will just let it go because you keep repeating the same thing? Lady Cyan hasn’t been seen for days!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And she won’t be seen until she’s recovered. Now, go back to your duties.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. “I’m not a child, Alistair! Don’t treat me like one just because you don’t have the decency to tell me what’s actually going on. You think I’m blind to what’s happening?”

Alistair stared at me, unfazed by my outburst. Then, to my utter fury, he reached out and gently patted me on the head, as if I were some bothersome child. “Young One,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone, “you should focus on your own work and let Prince Thor handle LadCyan. You’re only going to exhaust yourself meddling in things you don’t understand.”

I slapped his hand away, my blood boiling at the insult. “You can’t keep me away from her forever, Alistair.”

He merely shrugged, unfazed. “Perhaps not, but for now, you should go. I won’t tell you again.”

My teeth ground together, but I knew I couldn’t push him further without making a scene. I had no choice but to turn around and leave, but the fire of frustration burned deep in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this go, not by a long shot.

As I walked away, I could still feel Alistair’s patronizing pat on my head, and it only fueled my determination. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what.

The royal wedding was only a few days away, and I’d reached my breaking point. The palace had become a den of whispers and secrets, and it seemed that the closer we got to the wedding, the more the air thickened with lies. I had tried everything, pushing past Alistair, confronting Prince Thor’s other courtiers, even pleading with Lady Natasha and Lady Pepper to help me get to LadyCyan. But all paths led to closed doors.

And Prince Loki  with his cryptic words, his teasing smiles, and half-baked hints. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed through the palace halls, not caring who saw me. My feet led me to the Royal Garden, where I knew he’d be. He always found some quiet corner to lounge in, away from the royal duties he couldn’t be bothered with. Sure enough, there he was, seated by the fountain, leaning back like a man without a care in the world. He hadn’t seen me yet, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap.

“Prince Loki!” I hissed, my voice cutting through the peaceful evening air. His eyes snapped open, a smirk already curling his lips as he straightened, watching me approach.

“Well, well, Lady Honey. I was wondering when you’d come seeking my company,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. He pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What brings you to me so... heatedly?”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me what’s going on with Lady Cyan.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few slow steps toward me. “And what makes you think I’ll just give you the answers you seek?”

“Because you know something!” I shouted, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been dropping hints for weeks, playing with me like a cat with a mouse, and I’m done! I need to know what’s happening to her!”

Prince Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my outburst. He circled me slowly, as if appraising me. “Oh, my dear Lady Honey, I do know many things. But nothing comes for free in this world.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want?”

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “A kiss.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“A kiss,” he repeated, his voice low and velvety. “Give me one, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I stared at him, stunned. This was a new game. A dangerous one. “You’re joking.”

His eyes darkened, and the smirk on his face faded slightly, replaced with something more... possessive. “I never, Lady Honey.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. A kiss? For information? It felt wrong. But I had to know. I needed to understand what was happening, why Cyan had suddenly vanished behind locked doors, why everyone was pretending everything was fine.

With reluctance weighing heavily on me, I nodded. “Fine.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more victorious. Before I could even prepare myself, he stepped forward, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. His grip was firm, and the heat of his body was overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate , his lips crashed down on mine, strong and possessive, swallowing my breath. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, and claiming. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me even closer, while his other hand gripped my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t relent. His fingers dug into my waist, his body pressing me tightly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His lips moved with a fierceness that stole the air from my lungs, and when I tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding me in place.

The kiss grew rougher, more demanding. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my thigh. He groped me as if I were his to take, his hold possessive, his body commanding.

My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was paralyzed. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and something else , something I didn’t want to name. His lips moved over mine, devouring me, until I was left breathless, gasping against him.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, my knees weak. I could hardly catch my breath as I stared up at him, my lips swollen, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and hungry, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Lady Honey,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

I tried to steady my breathing, still reeling from the kiss. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Loki didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still firmly gripping my waist. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against mine in an almost affectionate manner, a contrast to the possessive way he had kissed me moments earlier.

He pressed his lips softly to my forehead, lingering for a moment as his breath fanned over my skin. “Thor has been spending a lot of time with Cyan,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Alone. Uninterrupted. But she’s not ill. Not at all.”

His hand slid lower, caressing my side as he spoke, his lips brushing against my hair. “They’ve been keeping her in her chambers, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Loki’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Because she’s trapped, just like you, little honeybee. Thor has no intention of letting her go.”

I stared at him, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach.

The day after my tense encounter with Loki, I finally managed to see Lady Cyan. She was glowing, radiant even, but her expression, her eyes, told a different story. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I rushed forward and embraced her tightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice low, laced with concern.

Pepper and Natasha, standing nearby with knowing smiles, seemed to think my worry was misplaced. “Honey, had been worried sick about you,” Natasha said, her tone light, almost dismissive of the tension that clung to me. It was as if they were brushing off the entire ordeal.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cyan answered, but her eyes,they were haunted. Despite her soft smile, there was a sadness there that pulled at my chest.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. Something was wrong, and as the days leading up to the wedding crept by, I tried to coax her into talking. She remained tight-lipped, her melancholy growing more apparent, but she wouldn’t say a word.

Prince Loki, who had been dropping hints and playing his games, was nowhere to be found during this time. It should have unsettled me, but I was too focused on Lady Cyan to care.

Then, the day of the royal wedding arrived. It was the grandest affair Asgard had ever seen, extravagant, dazzling, and utterly flawless in its execution. Everyone was there, dressed to the nines, and the entire kingdom celebrated the union of Crown Prince Thor and Princess Cyan.

But then, during the reception, Princess Cyan disappeared.

I knew where to find her.

I followed my instincts, weaving my way through the palace grounds until I reached the Royal Forest. There, in the center of the garden, was a bench where she sat, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Princess Cyan?” I whispered as I approached. She looked up at me, her eyes red, streaked with tears.

Without a word, I sat beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, stroking her hair as she cried.This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Or so I’ve heard.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she extended her hand. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing me her wedding ring.

I frowned. “It’s your wedding ring, of course.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. “No, Honey, it’s a Vowthorn.”

Confusion filled me as I studied the ring more closely. My blood ran cold as I saw it—tiny thorns lining the underside, almost imperceptible unless you looked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again, and before I could stop her, she tugged at the ring. To my horror, pieces of her skin began to tear as she tried to remove it. Blood welled at the edges, and I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “Princess Cyan, stop!” I cried, my heart pounding.

“I can never take it off,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I’m bound to him, Honey. Forever.”

My eyes widened as I stared at her bloody finger, my stomach churning with revulsion. The thorns had sunk into her flesh, marking her, chaining her to Prince Thor in a way far crueler than I could have imagined.

“Princess Cyan.”

Alistair’s voice broke through the moment, his presence looming as he stepped out from the shadows of the trees. “Your husband is looking for you,” he said calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Princess Cyan wiped her eyes, standing slowly as she gave me one last, heart-wrenching hug. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

I held her tightly for a moment before releasing her, watching helplessly as she walked toward Alistair. He smiled, cold, knowing, and I could only stand there, frozen, as he gently escorted her back to the party.

I felt my heart twist, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Do you understand now?”

Prince Loki had emerged from the shadows, lurking like the serpent he always was. I didn’t bother looking at him, my gaze still fixed on the spot where Cyan had disappeared, her broken form haunting my thoughts.

If I were being honest, I didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But there was one thing I was almost certain of.

“He’s harming her,” I said aloud, unable to shake the memory of her fear, the wedding ring that tore into her skin when she dared to remove it. “But why? I thought he loved her.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest. It grated on my nerves, and I finally turned to stare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, his smirk both infuriating and dangerous. “Hardly harming her,” he corrected, his tone dripping with amusement. “There may be a bit of pain involved, yes... but the pleasure, from what I’ve heard, is immaculate.” His voice deepens

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. “What in gods’ name are you babbling about, Loki?”

He chuckled darkly, as if I were some naïve child. “Thor is playing a different game, Honey. One where control is disguised as love, and desire is wrapped in thorns. You see, your dear crowned prince has no intention of letting his bride go. Not ever.”

My stomach twisted. "That doesn't explain the ring. The pain."

Prince Loki's gaze softened, almost mockingly. “Ah, but pain and pleasure often intertwine. Thor’s made sure she feels both, he wants her to be bound to him in every way. The ring, the restrictions, they serve a purpose beyond mere possession. It’s a reminder. That no matter how much she may try to escape, she’ll always come back to him.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising in me like a tide. "You're saying he's... manipulating her into staying?"

"Isn't that what marriage often is?" Loki raised an eyebrow, his voice deceptively light. He moved closer, until the heat of his body was almost touching mine. "But don’t think of it as cruelty. In Thor’s eyes, it’s love. Just a... particular kind."

I felt sick. "And you? Do you condone it?"

Prince Loki leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t condone or condemn. I observe. And I act when it suits me.” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "As I’ve been observing you."

A shiver ran down my spine. His presence, his words, it was all too much. I stepped back, trying to put distance between us, but Loki only smirked, as if he enjoyed seeing me unsettled.

He gestured toward the path Princess Cyan and Alistair had taken. “If you really want to know what’s happening, you’re asking the wrong questions. Thor loves her, yes, but his love is one that consumes, one that binds. Just like the ring on her finger.” His eyes gleamed. "The real question is, how far will he go to keep her?"

Before I could even think of leaving,Prince Loki’s slender fingers grab around my neck, his grip deceptively strong. He yanked me closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my stomach churn with both fear and an unexpected flicker of something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Now, then,” Loki whispered in a voice as smooth as velvet, his lips barely brushing my ear. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Let go of me!” I demanded, my voice shaking but defiant as I pushed against his chest, trying to create distance. But it was no use, he barely moves, his frame lean yet unyielding as if carved from stone.

“Now, now, little Honey,” he purred, his tone dripping with a sick sort of amusement. “You’ve been so curious about what’s happening to sweet Cyan... I think it’s only fair I show you ”

His lips descended on mine with a force that took my breath away. I gasped, my body instinctively tensing at the sudden invasion. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation, his kiss demanding, harsh, and unforgiving.

My hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but it was futile. Loki was everywhere. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as though he intended to merge us into one being. His other hand roamed, sliding down my back, groping and kneading as if he were staking his claim.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and I could feel his fingers curling into the fabric of my gown, tugging me impossibly closer. His lips moved against mine, rough and unrelenting, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees buckle.

"L-Loki—" I tried to speak, to push him away, but my voice was swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his hand trailing lower, grabbing my hip and squeezing with enough force to make me gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing mine in a cruel mockery of tenderness. "You’ve wanted this, Honey. Don’t pretend otherwise."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine, stealing my breath once more. His hands slid down to my backside, gripping and pulling me against him in a way that left no space between us. I could feel every inch of him, his body pressed tightly to mine as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.

His lips left mine only to trail down the side of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I whimpered as he nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh just enough to send a bolt of heat through me.

"You’re mine now," he growled against my skin, his voice low and possessive. "Don’t think for a second you can escape me."

His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, and the dip of my back. His touch was rough, insistent, as though he was marking me with every stroke of his fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear, and confusion

I've never done anything like this before, I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. For the first time in my life, I feared what would happened next.

Loki's grip tightened, his hands digging into my flesh as if daring me to try and escape. But there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made me want to run and hide. His thumb traced the line of my jaw as he smirked down at me, his lips swollen from the kiss.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My head smacked against the cold earth, a sharp pain shooting through my skull as the world spun for a moment.

Using my confusion as an opportunity, Loki climbed on top of me, forcibly lifting my skirts and ripping apart my undergarments.

“Wait” I called out “Loki! Please! No!” my pleas falling on deaf ears as I heard and felt him shuffle about.

I tried to get up, but this only caused Loki to grab my neck once more, shoving my head back into the ground. The pressure on my neck causing me to still.

All at once, I feel a searing pain in my nether regions, and Loki growls with what I can only assume is pleasure. I begin digging my nails into his arm and dragging them down. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

The anguish squeezing every bit of breath I had in my body.

He takes one look at my face, at the agony and discomfort he was causing, and he laughed loudly.

“You are a virgin?” he asks, shock laced into his voice.

I swallow, whimpers escape me as I try to breathe through the torment.

“And you worry about the whore?”

He begins moving his body against mine the pain sharp, and persistent, a deep, stretching discomfort catching me off guard. Distress overtaking me as tears fell down my face. It felt as if a fresh wound had been torn open, and he was mercilessly digging into it, over and over, each movement sending waves of torment through me.

A pressure that started small but grew with every motion, my muscles tensing instinctively. It wasn’t just the physical sting; there was an emotional weight behind it too. A feeling of vulnerability, of crossing a threshold I could never return from. It was unbearable, and far from pleasant, a blend of confusion and distress mixed with the ache.

With every grunt and growl Loki worked to steal away my innocence. I became tired, my arms dropped to my side as I allowed him what he wanted. I still cried to myself wondering when this would be over.

He removed his hand from my neck, planting both firmly on to the ground as he worked to move faster. Finally, just when I felt that I could take no more he lets out a final roar pushing himself as deep as he could inside me, causing me to cry out in pain,before collapsing on my worn body.

"See?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "I told you, Honey. You’re mine."

I stared up at him, panting, my mind still spinning from the events that occurred.

He stood, fixing himself before leaving me on the ground with a chuckle.

I had never felt so ashamed, to allow something so awful to happen to me. I move into a fetal position, wondering where I went wrong.

Afterwards when Prince Loki stood up and fixed his garments I chose to lay on the ground for what felt like hours, my body aching, my mind swirling in the haze of disbelief. Used, humiliated, and utterly broken, I could hardly muster the strength to move. The cool earth beneath me felt foreign, much like the shell of my own body. I wanted to scream, to cry, but the exhaustion and shame anchored me to the ground.

Eventually, reality clawed its way back in. I still had to go home. As battered as I was, I couldn’t allow myself to be found like this. I still had my family’s dignity to uphold, fragile though it was. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the vile memories of what had just happened. Loki's touch lingered on my skin, searing like a brand I’d never erase. But I had to get up. I had no choice.

With trembling arms, I pushed myself off the cold ground. Every movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through my body. My dress was filthy, covered in dirt and torn in places. My hair, usually so neatly kept, hung in tangled clumps around my face. I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears had long since dried. I felt like a ghost of the woman I was when I arrived.

My legs shook as I took one step, then another. My body protested, but I bit back the groan of agony and pressed on. I couldn’t afford to be found here. Not like this.

It was a miracle no one had come across me. The palace grounds had plenty of hidden corners, but in this state, I felt exposed, vulnerable. With every faltering step, I felt the weight of what had been stolen from me. I was no longer Honey Duval, the thorny, snarky daughter of a struggling Baroness. I had become something else entirely.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the palace. There were still people milling about, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that raged inside me. I kept my head low, pulling my ruined dress around me to hide the worst of the damage. I prayed that no one would take a second look, that no one would notice the way I limped toward the line of carriages.

I spotted an empty one, its driver standing idly by. I approached him as steadily as I could, my voice a ragged whisper as I asked, “Take me home.”

The driver, with barely a glance, helped me inside, and I sank into the seat, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. The door shut, and with the soft lurch of the carriage, I felt myself collapse inward.

I managed to stumble my way through the door without a soul in sight. The house was still and quiet, no sign of my family. Of course, they were all still at the wedding. My parents, Saffron, even Bruce, none of them would have noticed I was missing yet. That gave me some relief, though it was fleeting.

The servants had long retired to their quarters for the night. There was no one to see me in this state, no judgmental eyes to pry at my disheveled hair and filthy gown. I was grateful for the emptiness of the estate.

I moved quietly through the halls, each step painful, my body still aching from the night’s cruelty. When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it and letting out a ragged breath. My legs gave out from under me, and I slid to the floor, my dress pooling around me in a tattered mess.

I could still feel Loki’s hands on me, the weight of his body, his mocking smile as he took everything I had left. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise.

I was falling apart.

With shaking hands, I dragged myself to the mirror, catching sight of the wreck I had become. My eyes hollow, my hair tangled and dirty, my dress in ruins. I could barely recognize myself.

I stripped off my ruined dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Every inch of my body ached, bruises I hadn’t noticed earlier now flaring with every movement. My mind was clouded with the horrors of what had transpired, but I knew one thing,I needed to wash it all away.

The bathwater was scalding as I stepped in, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the heat, letting it burn my skin, hoping it could sear away the filth that clung to me. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder than I ever had before. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of his hands, his breath on my neck, the unbearable weight of him.

Loki’s sins clung to me like a second skin, and no amount of scrubbing could make them disappear.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time I couldn’t stop them. They fell silently, mixing with the water, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let this break me—not yet. I had to keep going. I had to find a way to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, I dragged myself out of the tub, my skin tender and sore. I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I dressed quickly, slipping into a nightgown, my body trembling with every movement. Each bruise, each ache, was a reminder of what had happened, of what I had endured.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheets around me as tightly as I could. I wanted to disappear, to become invisible, but the memories wouldn’t let me. They played over and over in my mind, tormenting me, reminding me that I was no longer the person I had been just hours before.

As the night deepened, I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, my body too heavy to move, my mind too shattered to rest.

The morning after the... incident, I went to work, doing my best to avoid Loki like the plague. Thankfully, he wasn't lurking anywhere near me, but my focus stayed on my work, burying myself in it to ignore the memory of last night.

Princess Cyan was finally available today, but something was off. She was quieter than usual, almost distant, her glow subdued. I glanced around the room, noticing Natasha and Pepper were unusually silent too. The whole room felt heavy, but I was too preoccupied with my work to dwell on it. There were more pressing things to address,or so I thought.

Queen Freya had summoned me.

When the notice arrived, I paused, the paper trembling in my hands. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I kept my composure as I made my way to the Queen’s receiving room. What could she possibly want? Had something else gone wrong?

The air in Queen Freya’s receiving room was as cold and stiff as the Queen herself. I stood quietly, waiting for her to get to the point of summoning me here. She'd been polite enough, making small talk about the weather and my family’s well-being, but her eyes never softened. Not for a moment.

It wasn’t long before she finally sat back in her chair and sighed, an air of finality in her voice. "Honey, you’ve done quite a remarkable job assisting... Princess Cyan." The way she said "Princess" made it sound like an insult rather than a title. "But I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

I blinked, completely thrown. "Your Majesty, may I ask what I’ve done wrong?"

She folded her hands and looked at me with the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "It’s not about wrongdoing, per se. But your absence on the night of the wedding was entirely unprofessional. We cannot risk something like that happening again. What if Princess Cyan needed you? You were nowhere to be found."

My heart raced. That night… my time spent with PrincesCyan had been brief before I stumbled upon her secret. I knew better than to mention it. "Your Majesty, I—"

"There’s no need for explanations, dear," she cut me off sharply. "I am well aware that you have been rather... vocal in your support for Princess Cyan. Too vocal, perhaps."

There it was. The truth. Queen Freya’s gaze flickered, revealing the venom she had been holding back. It wasn’t about my absence or my professionalism. This had nothing to do with any potential failure on my part.

"Your service to her has been... commendable," she continued, her tone laced with condescension. "But it’s not what is needed at court. We must think of the future of Asgard, and Princess Cyan’s role. You... would do better to think of your own future outside these palace walls."

I stood there, stunned into silence.

"There are no second chances in court, Honey. You must understand that. You’re dismissed."

It hit me like a blow. All my work, all my effort to support Princess Cyan, to make sure she was respected, treated as she should be, would be undone by a queen who saw her as a blemish. And I was simply collateral.

I gathered myself, curtsying. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As I walked out of the receiving room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the power Queen Freya wielded. This wasn’t about professionalism or duty. This was about control.

Mother’s eyes blazed with fury, the air between us crackling with her frustration. I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, trying to steady my breathing, but the storm in her gaze only grew.

"What could you have possibly done?" she spat, pacing in front of me like a lioness ready to strike. "Did you offend someone again? Oh, did you open your big mouth to the wrong person this time?"

I flinched at her words, though I knew better than to respond too quickly. I kept my head down, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the rug beneath my feet, as if I could disappear into the floor. Her accusations, though harsh, were nothing new.

She stopped pacing, turning to me with that piercing look that always left me feeling smaller than I was. "Speak, Honey. What have you done? You must have done something, or you wouldn’t have been fired as Princess Cyan’s lady-in-waiting! So what was it?"

I stayed silent, my throat tight with the truth I couldn’t say. She wouldn’t understand, not now, not ever. And even if I told her everything, how would I explain Loki?

Her voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and biting. "Answer me!" she demanded. "Do you know what you’ve caused? To be dismissed from court like some common servant, disgraceful! You’ve brought shame upon this family."

I swallowed, the words heavy on my tongue, but none of them would make a difference. My mother was looking for someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.

Her gaze darkened, filled with suspicion. “So you’ve nothing to say? No defense for yourself?”

I shook my head. "No, Mother. Nothing."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down as if searching for some clue, some evidence of the disgrace I’d caused.

Her lips curled into a sneer

It was another day of being reprimanded by her. But this time, it stung more than usual. Saffron wasn’t here to soften the blow, to offer that silent comfort only a sister could. No, she was off with Bruce’s mother, going over preparations for her own wedding, blissfully unaware of the disaster that had become my life.

I stood there, feeling the weight of my mother’s words, the shame and frustration building up like a dam about to break. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back. Could I even tell her what had really happened? Could I tell her about Loki, about the things that I didn’t even want to think about, let alone speak aloud?

"Answer me, Honey!" my mother snapped, her impatience rising.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I rushed past her, ignoring the startled look on her face. I needed to get away, to hide. I fled to my room, slamming the door behind me as the tears finally broke free.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to hear anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. This life, this shame, this pain,I couldn’t bear it.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, wishing for everything to just disappear.

Weeks had passed, and I was growing weaker with each day. 

I stayed silent. Lying in bed, withering away, my body betraying me as much as my mind. What could I possibly say? What could my family do if I did tell them? Loki was the Prince of Asgard, untouchable by anyone in our position. And with Saffron dealing with her own issues with the Duke, I couldn’t add more burden to the family.

From what I knew, Saffron wanted to delay the wedding—push it back a year or two, give them time to get to know each other better. But The Duke refused, insisting that he could hardly wait the few days left until they were to be married. The fear in Saffron’s eyes was clear as day. She was terrified, but with me having been fired from the palace, she felt like she had no other choice. Bruce was our only hope of pulling the Duvals out of the pit of "nonexistence," as my mother had begun to call it.

I tried to tell Saffron that she always had a choice, that there was another way, but she wouldn’t listen. The weight of saving the family seemed to matter more to her than saving herself.

We were walking through the Duval garden when I could feel my body rebelling again. Saffron had convinced me that fresh air might do me good, that perhaps I was simply exhausted from being cooped up for so long. But I felt nauseous, my head swimming. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned over, vomiting into the bushes, and before I knew it, everything went black.

When I woke, I was surrounded by my family. Saffron, my father, and my mother, along with a doctor who was wiping his hands clean on a cloth. My mother was hovering over me, panicked, her voice shrill as she called my name. My father stood by, trying to calm her down, while Saffron sat silently at the edge of the bed, her face pale.

"She's awake," my father sighed in relief.

I blinked, trying to shake the fog from my mind. "What happened?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You've fainted, Lady Honey, but you're alright now. However, there’s something else... You’re with child.”

The words hit me like a boulder.

"That’s impossible," I muttered, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. The memory of Loki’s hands on me flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist.

"I think you know how this happened," the doctor said, his tone professional but laced with an understanding that made the room feel even heavier.

Silence fell, and the air grew thick with tension. My mother was the first to break it, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Who is the father? Who have you been with?" Her words came sharp and fast, like a blade cutting through me.

I said nothing. What could I say? How could I explain something I barely had the strength to acknowledge myself?

My father quietly ushered the doctor out of the room, but Saffron remained, her face frozen in shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

My mother’s voice rose again, frantic now. "Who is the father, Honey? Answer me!" Her hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, but still, I stayed silent.

I couldn’t bring myself to utter Loki’s name. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—I’ll..." My mother’s voice cracked, her eyes wild as she searched for something that might break me. She straightened, her face flushed with frustration. "I’ll send you to your Aunt Gertrude."

I blinked, the words settling in the air like an empty threat. Aunt Gertrude. As a child, her name had been synonymous with punishment. The strange spinster, cast aside by the family for reasons never fully explained to me and my sister. I used to shudder at the mere mention of her name, but now... now, the thought of being sent to her estate didn’t stir the same fear it once did.

In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having a true reason to fear Aunt Gertrude. She was an outcast, yes. Blamed for the Duvals’ declining status in society. But what had she really done? No one had ever told me.

Maybe it was because she was different, unconventional, and refused to play the endless games of high society. Or maybe it was because she didn’t fit into the mold my mother had set for the family.

And now, I was beginning to realize... I might not either.

I was much too tired to fight, to resist the weight of my mother’s constant reproach. My head ached, and the room spun slightly as I forced myself to sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. Her threat hung in the air between us, but the words that escaped me were softer than I intended, drained of their sting.

"Then send me," I said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t care anymore."

She recoiled as if I’d struck her. "How dare you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "After all we’ve done for you, after everything our family has sacrificed, this is how you repay us?"

I turned my head, gazing out of the window as she raged. My chest felt hollow, my heart heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, perhaps I cared too much, but what could I do?

She stood abruptly, the anger still palpable in the air between us. "You’ll leave for Gertrude’s after Saffron’s wedding, she will be in attendance, and will take you with her when she leaves" she declared, her voice colder now, resolved. "And don’t expect us to welcome you back anytime soon."

I nodded silently, still looking away. As she left the room, I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the pillows. A strange calm washed over me. The threat of being sent to Aunt Gertrude no longer loomed like it once had.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the less frightening it seemed.

Aunt Gertrude had been cast out for being different, for failing to meet society’s expectations. Maybe, just maybe, I had more in common with her than anyone else in this family.

Saffron looked radiant but terrified. Her eyes darted across the grand hall, her smile faltering every time someone came too close. I should have objected to this marriage, but I couldn't. Not for lack of love or loyalty,no, I simply couldn't find the energy within myself. The truth was, I had no reason to.

On paper, Duke Bruce Banner was everything one could hope for. Powerful, wealthy, and above all else, terrifyingly loyal to Saffron. Since their courtship began, he had proven his devotion in ways that made him seem perfect, like the ideal match for a girl of Saffron’s standing. And with our family’s name teetering on the edge of ruin, he was exactly what she needed. What we all needed.

Mother had remained by my side throughout the day, ensuring that I didn’t cause a scene. Her hands were always just a breath away, offering water, passing sweets, shielding me from questions thrown by fellow relatives. It was the most affectionate she’d ever been, a strange contrast to her usual distant demeanor. Perhaps she feared what the slightest slip would reveal that her daughter carried a secret far more scandalous than a dismissal from court.

My pregnancy was the one secret she seemed determined to protect, at least for now.

I managed to slip away and found Saffron standing alone, staring into the mirror, her smile long gone. Her hands were trembling as she adjusted her veil, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can run away together, you know?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the murmurs of guests in the distance.

She looked at me, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "And I know you’re seriously considering that," she said, a soft laugh escaping her. But there was no joy in it, only resignation. “But I can’t, Honey. I can’t abandon my obligations. I don’t have the luxury of running away.”

I nodded, though my heart ached for her. Saffron, my strong-willed sister, had always carried the weight of responsibility on her delicate shoulders, and despite her fear, she would never cast it aside. That was who she was.

She pulled me in close, her breath warm against my cheek. "I’d like to see my little niece or nephew often, though," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So I expect frequent visits."

I couldn’t help but smile, though tears blurred my vision. "You’ll be the best aunt this child will ever know," I said, meaning every word.

We hugged tightly, holding onto this fleeting moment of peace. It was one of the few moments we’d had where neither of us had to pretend. For just a heartbeat, it was the two of us again,sisters, not trapped by titles or duties, but bound by love.

But we both knew it wouldn’t last. We had already lost, each in our own way.

“Dear!” A voice interrupted our embrace, and we both turned to see Duke Bruce Banner standing at the entrance, a charming but calculated smile on his face. His eyes flickered between us, though it was clear his attention was only on Saffron.

"I truly hate to interrupt a bonding moment between sisters," he said with a grin, "but it’s time for the cake."

Saffron gave him a strained smile before taking his arm. But before she let go of my hand, she squeezed it tightly, a silent promise, a reassurance that no matter what, we would always have each other. Even if the world we lived in forced us apart.

As they walked away, the weight of what was coming settled over me like a shroud. Soon, I would be gone, sent away under the guise of preserving what little dignity we had left. And Saffron would stay, locked in a life she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t refuse.

I watched them go, my heart heavy, knowing that we had both become prisoners of our fates. But for now, we could pretend,for one last time,that everything was still as it had been.

The weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. A chapter of my life that I had barely begun to understand was forcibly coming to a close, and it was out of my control. I let out a small breath, placing a hand over my belly. The child inside me had yet to show, but the reality of it, the enormity of it, was already sinking in. Would I be a good mother? Would I ever have a chance to make things right?

The carriage rumbled through the forest, cutting a path toward the next town where we would stop to rest. I watched as tree after tree passed by, but the rhythmic movement of the ride made me nauseous. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the twisting in my stomach, but instead, my mind filled with questions.

What will my new life be like?

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off into sleep until a sharp jolt startled me awake. The carriage had come to a sudden stop. At first, there was nothing but hushed murmurs from outside, voices low and indistinct. But then the gurgling screams began.

My heart seized in my chest.

Were we being robbed?

Terror gripped me, and I curled up tightly in the corner of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer to the carriage door. There was a pause,three distinct knocks,before the door swung open.

Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement. A familiar, infuriating smirk followed.

"Loki."

Confusion flooded through me. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He stepped forward with all the casual arrogance I had come to expect from him taking a seat across from me, his grin widening. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

His words took me aback, my confusion deepening. What did he mean?

Loki sighed, as if I were being slow, and moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against my cheek, a gesture that was oddly tender coming from him. But then his hand traveled lower, resting over my stomach. His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “This," he said, his fingers pressing gently, "and this.”

I recoiled instinctively, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. Panic swirled inside me as I whispered, “How did you know?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something more serious. “What made you think I wouldn’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, searching for something that would make this moment less terrifying, but nothing came. The air between us felt suffocating.

Loki sat back, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms along the back of the seat, completely at ease as though we weren’t discussing the life growing inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?”

“There was nothing to tell,” I said quickly, my voice tight.

He laughed then, a cold, humorless sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, there’s plenty to tell,” he said, his tone darkening. His gaze dropped to my stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Did you think you could keep the child from me?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you could keep yourself away from me?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze but feeling the weight of his words press down on me.

Loki leaned back again, watching me with those sharp, calculating eyes. “Since you’re carrying my child, I won’t punish you as I normally would.” His voice was low, almost casual, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “But make no mistake, Honey,you will be punished.”

The carriage fell eerily quiet. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension was thick, palpable.

Then, slowly, Loki stood, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t escape me, Honey. Not now, not ever.” He grabbed my hair, banging my head against the wall. “Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more forthcoming about your condition.” He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp burning as I feel my skin being pulled. He begins moving me around, as if molding me to his touch. Before I know it, I am on my hands and knees. I try to move away but Loki slaps my face “No, you will behave.” I still, his hand still in my hair. I feel fingers creeping down my dress before lifting my skirts over my bottom. Tears flow from my eyes as I begin to beg him to let me go. “Please Loki do not do this to me.” He ignores my please as he removes my undergarments, I feel the cool air against my naked skin, and I begin to struggle once more. He pushes me into the carriage seat “If you’d like my guards to join, that please continue to move.”

I still once more.

This could not be happening again. As much fear as I had to be meeting aunt Gertrude, the one thing I was glad to avoid was this.

But it seems to be something I am unable to escape.

I feel his fingers ghosting my bottom, before feeling their way between my lips, gently pushing against my pearl. My breathe hitches as I whimper at the feel. He chuckles slowly rubbing it as my arousal begins to stain his hands.

It wasn’t long before I felt him moving around behind, and I felt something soft and firm poking between my legs.

“Please” I whisper with one final plea

He carefully moves to grab my hips, tightening his hands against them. “You will be mine forever.”

He thrusted into my pussy, prying the flesh apart, pushing until he reached the hilt of his pubic region.

Although there was pain, as expected, it did not feel as terribly as the first time. Slowly he began to move, pushing in and out until his cock was soaked with the juices of my cunt. Although it stung, the feeling wasn’t torturous, in fact, it was beginning to feel pleasurable.

Guilt began to eat away at me as his thrusts became more forceful, and I slowly begin reach a peak. My whimpers becoming moans, as he hovers over me to pinch my nipples.

 I don’t realize what’s happened, until I feel vibrations in my body and see stars in my eyes.

“Good Girl.” Loki whispers into my ear as \ he continues to thrust until I feel his body stiffen with his own release. He collapses on top of me, feeling my exposed skin while still inside of me.

I was still wrapping my head about what had just gone on when Loki moved to open the carriage door, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at me. His expression was unsettling, a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation.

"I feel like a game of tag," he said casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

My mind was still spinning, my body worn out, trying desperately to gather my bearings after everything that had just happened. The situation felt surreal, like some twisted nightmare.

"I’ll give you a five-minute head start." His words made my stomach drop as the pieces slowly started coming together in my mind. "If you make it to your mother’s home before I catch you, I will leave you alone forever."

I sat up, quickly fixing my dress, my heart pounding in my chest. Loki was playing a game, one I knew I couldn’t afford to lose. Staying in this carriage with him would lead to nowhere good, but the alternative was no less terrifying.

"However," he continued, pausing just enough to let the weight of his words sink in, "if I catch you first, you’ll have to say yes to my proposal." He smiled wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous excitement. "And we’ll continue to play tag until you do reach your home."

Before I could respond, Loki stepped out of the carriage and, with alarming ease, pulled me out and lifted me onto the ground. His grip was firm but not painful, yet it only heightened the sense of helplessness coiling inside me.

When I looked behind him, I found the coachmen dead on the ground, laying in what I assumed to be blood. I was too scared to speak, so I remained quiet.

"Your five minutes starts now." His grin widened as he glanced at an invisible clock. "Four minutes and fifty-four seconds."

I didn’t waste another second. I took off running, my legs stiff and unsteady beneath me, my body still heavy with the shock of what had just occurred. My heart hammered in my chest, each step labored and uncoordinated as I struggled to push forward. All with his essence dripping down my legs.

This can’t be happening, I thought to myself, as tears welled up in my eyes. This can’t be real.

But it was.

The trees blurred as I stumbled through the forest, branches catching at my dress, my shoes sinking into the uneven earth beneath me. Tears streamed down my face as I tripped and fell hard into the dirt, my hands scraping against the ground as I hit the earth with a dull thud.

I could hear Loki’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me with his smile, his challenge. The reality of what he wanted, the cruel game he was playing, pressed down on me, suffocating my thoughts.

I lay there for a moment, my chest heaving, dirt smeared across my hands and face. I felt the ground beneath me, solid and cold, but all I could think was:

what am I supposed to do now?

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Sensei Sharpens Student

this is just 4.5k words of Yang and Cole bonding. I don't know where I found the energy to do this. this was just my excuse to write Cole angst again and be self indulgent but it worked out well. cross posted to ao3 as well

tw for death mentions and mild violence

~

Yang stared down at the child’s body and sighed. So young… it was a shame his life had been cut short so quickly. Kind of. Yang couldn’t quite bring himself to feel grief over the child, especially not when it would all be remedied soon.

He picked up the body, careful to avoid damaging it further — those oni had really done a number on him — and brought it to the altar. The child would have looked serene if not for the ugly gashes marring his face. Falling from a skyscraper was a truly terrible way to go, all that shattered glass and broken bones and simply knowing that you would die and it could not be changed.

“Soon,” Yang whispered to the corpse. “It will all be better soon.” It might not be, if his plan failed, but it wouldn’t be much of a loss. The child couldn’t respond anyway.

He checked his hourglass — only ten minutes until the eclipse. Ten minutes until he’d see if this child could be resurrected. Ten minutes until the Rift could be summoned again for the first time in three centuries.

Yang picked up the Yin Blade and held it above the child‘s head. It was time. He slashed at the air, the blade ripping a hole in the very universe itself, and smiled.

The Rift glowed a radioactive, toxic green, not unlike the green of the Lazarus Pits. The colours in it swirled together in hypnotic patterns, seemingly alive. Yang picked up the child, less carefully than before, for any further damage wouldn’t matter soon, and threw him into the Rift. Perhaps that was a bit of a crude word, but it was accurate. The boy was not exactly heavy, and Yang had been a very strong man in life.

As soon as the body disappeared into the glowing green of the Rift, Yang dusted his hands off and waited. He did not know how long it would take for the child to come back out. He didn’t even know if the boy would be revived, or if he’d ever come out. If the boy was still dead, then it showed that humans could not be resurrected with the Rift. If he was alive, then Yang had his very own pet assassin. Yang would be unharmed either way.

A loud crack of thunder outside had Yang cursing and running to the door. It was the Rift, it must be. The portal on the inside of the temple had closed, but the green glow outside meant there was some degree of success.

He ran outside and found the body crumpled in a rose bush. It was jarringly similar to how Yang had first found the boy, all bones and too-cold skin, twisted in the way that only a dead body could be. Except this body was not dead. It was very much alive. Yang could see the boy’s shallow breathing. He pressed a finger to his wrist. There was a faint pulse, slow but still there. Yang would have let out a breath of relief if he could still breathe. The boy was alive. The Rift had worked. He now had proof that humans could be resurrected with it.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open. It was strange to see the small side effects of the Rift — Yang would have to jot them down. Where before his eyes had been a pale grey, like little pools of moonlight, the left one was now an unnatural green. The same colour as the Rift.

A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face as well, starting somewhere above his hairline and ending just above his chin. It was the same green as the Rift. Yang could find no logical reason for it. The boy’s eye changing colour made sense, the Pits did the same thing, but the scar was unexpected. Yang would have to study that further. He held out his hand and pulled the boy to his feet. He looked disoriented, not completely aware of his surroundings, but Yang smiled anyway. 

“Welcome back,” he croaked to the child.

~

 Everything was black until it wasn’t. Then it was green and pain and screaming and awakening to an unfamiliar place. The boy blinked his eyes at the old man in front of him. He was fairly sure he didn’t know this man. But the boy couldn’t remember much of anything at the moment, so he let the man drag him to his feet and lead him though a door.

“How are you feeling?” The old man asked the boy. They had settled down around a low table, sitting on silk cushions. A plate of cookies was set in front of them. 

The boy did not know how to respond. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice was raspy and unfamiliar to him. That was scary — how could he not know his own voice?

The old man frowned. “What is your name?”

The boy blinked. He thought hard about what his name might be. “Cole,” he said. That sounded right.

“Cole,” the old man repeated. “I am Master Yang. I am the one who brought you back to life.”

Back to life? Wouldn’t that mean Cole had died? He tried to think about what may have happened and was immediately hit by feelings of pain and hopelessness and terror. However he had died hadn’t been peaceful. Cole shoved those feelings down and looked up at Yang. 

“I died?”

“Yes,” Master Yang nodded. “I revived you with the Rift of Return.”

“Did you know me? Is that why you brought me back?”

Master Yang cringed at that. “I did not know you. I simply saw a child in need and helped.”

“Okay,” Cole said. He could tell that Yang wasn’t telling the truth, or at least not all of it, but he had saved Cole from death. That had to mean something.

“I want to train you,” Master Yang said. “In the ways of combat. So that you will not die again.”

“But everyone dies.”

“Yes, but I would still like to train you. So that you can be safe,” Yang fumbled his words, looking for an excuse.

Cole thought for a bit. No matter how hard he tried to remember, he could not think of anything from his past. Granted, he had only been revived for an hour or so, but it couldn’t be normal not to remember. And what if it was people from his past that had caused his death? Yang was offering him safety and training. It would be good to know how to fight, and maybe he could regain some memories.

“I’ll train with you,” Cole told Yang. It seemed like the best option.

“Excellent,” Master Yang smiled wickedly. “Your training will begin tomorrow. You may take one of the empty rooms upstairs.”

Cole nodded and went up the stairs. He opened the first door on the right and looked over the room. It was dusty, clearly having been uninhabited for quite some time. It was still shelter, though, and the bed looked comfortable.

He looked in the mirror. A reflection stared back at him, of a young boy with dark hair and skin. His eyes were strange — one grey, the other bright green. A large crack (scar?) ran down the side of his face. It glowed green as well. Cole shivered at it. The reflection didn’t seem like him, was wrong and unfamiliar. Of course, who even was Cole? How was he to know if this was what he’d always looked like? He couldn’t remember any family or friends, or what he might have done in his free time, or whether he had any goals for the future. It was terrifying to not know who he was.

Yang knocked on the door, shaking Cole out of his spiral. “Cole, I would suggest you go to bed. Your training begins early and I will not tolerate any whining of no sleep.”

“Yes, Master Yang,” Cole said. He shook the dust off of the bedsheets and pillow. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. His body shut down immediately, sending him into a cold dreamless sleep.

~

The knives came towards Cole at full speed, bright silver crescents that threatened to kill if he didn’t dodge. Cole did a backflip to the left and a handspring to the right, then a simple roll to the floor. Not a single one of the knives hit him.

“Good work,” Master Yang said approvingly. He pocketed one of the throwing knives. “But your backflip was sloppy. We’ll need to fix that.”

“But everything else was good?” Cole asked. He hoped he had done well — he’d trained for hours on the corkscrews.

“Yes.”

“Should I practice throwing them now?”

Yang hummed and stroked his beard. “Go to the armoury and get some throwing knives. Make sure they’re the ones with red leather grips. I don’t want you training with the good knives yet.”

“Yes, Master Yang,” Cole hurried off to go get the knives. He found the armoury, an ancient mahogany door leading to it, and stepped in. There were weapons everywhere, ranging from large battle axes to small daggers to deadly poisons in glass vials. He found the required throwing knives and was about to exit when he saw the scythe.

It was a beautiful piece of work, carefully engraved with runes and enchantments. The blade was polished to perfection, shining and gleaming and incredibly sharp. The handle was made of honey coloured wood, wrapped in black leather. All in all, a stunning ten-out-of-ten weapon.

Cole looked at it and went back down the hall to Yang. “Master Yang, I saw this scythe in the armoury, and I was wondering, maybe after the throwing knives, maybe I—“

“Just spit it out already, boy,” Yang spat.

“Could I train with the scythe, maybe?”

Yang frowned. “It is a difficult weapon,” he said. “Not many use it in combat. It’s much more for reaping crops than anything.”

“But could I learn it?”

“Hmmm,” Yang thought. He intended to have Cole master all the weapons he had, scythe included. It wouldn’t hurt to change his plans a bit and have him learn the scythe next. A perfect assassin should know how to use every weapon, after all.

“Very well then,” he said to Cole. “Once you’ve mastered the throwing knives, I will teach you how to use a scythe.”

Cole had stars in his eyes. “Really?”

“I just said you could, didn’t I?”

“Yes!” Cole pumped his fist in a rare display of childish enthusiasm. Yang smiled a bit at that, though he would deny it if asked.

~ 

Yang nodded in satisfaction at his pupil’s performance. Cole had finally mastered the throwing knives — and in an exceptionally short amount of time, too. He could be the world’s greatest assassin given a few more years.

“Did I pass?” Cole said.

“Yes,” Yang said. “You did well.”

Cole lit up at the praise. “So I can learn how to use the scythe now?”

Yang raised an eyebrow at the question. He had not expected Cole to still remember that promise — children had short attention spans, and he’d figured Cole had forgotten about it. 

But a promise was a promise, and Yang was a man of his word. “Very well, then. You may start training.”

Yang made his way to the armoury and found the old scythe. He had not used it in many, many years. The blade would need sharpening, he thought idly.

“Take it,” he handed the weapon to Cole. “I will teach you the basics, and then we will spar.”

Cole took it gingerly and held it with practiced ease. “Isn’t the blade a bit dull?”

“It will suffice for this lesson.”

“Okay.”

Yang held up his own scythe. “I will teach you how to hold it properly, first. Adjust your hands so that— yes, exactly like that,” he said, confused as to how Cole would already know how to hold the weapon.

“Now, scythes are more for slashing than stabbing. You won’t be able to stab someone through the heart or anything. Remember that.”

Cole shifted nervously. “Master Yang, I think I’ve got it,” he said. 

Hmm. That was strange. The boy held his weapon like he was already familiar with it.

“You seem to have the basics down,” Yang said. “We’ll move on to sparring now. Don’t hold back.”

A nod, and then getting into position. Yang looked the boy over and gave the signal. He was off immediately, going straight for Yang’s throat and slashing at it. If Yang weren’t already dead, he would have died.

Yang went at Cole with his own weapon as well, though he aimed to incapacitate, not kill. Cole clearly had no such qualms — mostly because Yang couldn’t be killed — slicing at his throat and stomach. He was nimble, moving in the same way a dancer might, doing unnecessary kicks and spins. 

It was surprising. Not many used the scythe as a weapon — it was too inconvenient. But Cole used it like it was part of his body. Yang found himself once again wondering what the boy’s past was. He had training, of course, but from whom? Who would have trained such a young child to fight like that? Other than Yang, of course.

Cole took Yang’s distraction as an opportunity to drop kick him and end the match. “Sorry, Master,” he said apologetically. “But you said not to hold back.”

Yang sniffed and readjusted his robes. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I don’t know. I think it might be from my past? It’s all still so foggy, though…”

“I don’t believe you’ll need any more training with the scythe,” Yang shook his head. “You’re more than proficient.”

“But isn’t there always room for improvement?”

“A good fighter knows more than just two weapons. You will train with the bow and arrows next.”

Cole deflated a little. Yang found himself feeling guilty at that. Guilty! When had he started caring about the boy’s feelings? Hell, when had he started caring about the boy in general?

“You may train with the scythe in the afternoons,” Yang found himself saying. “As long as all your other exercises have been completed.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

~

Cole was crying. Yang knew this because of the faint sobs coming from his room. He knocked on the door. “Cole, why are you crying?” He asked.

The door swung open to Cole, eyes all red and puffy. The scar on his face glowed radioactive green. “Just stuff,” he mumbled. 

Yang sighed and marched into the room. He gestured for Cole to sit next to him. “Explain yourself,” he said. Not the most sensitive of statements, but Cole seemed to do better without being coddled.

Cole wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I remembered something,” he said softly. 

“Then why are you crying? Regaining memories is something to be celebrated.”

“I remembered someone important. I think he was my friend, or something. But I don’t know his name.”

Yang sighed. “But you remember what he looks like?”

“No,” Cole shook his head. “I just remember that he cared about me. I don’t know anything, just vague feelings…”

“Your memories will return with time,” Yang said. “And until then, you have me.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Cole laughed — a dry, broken, laugh, but still a laugh.

“It is true.”

“Thank you, Master Yang.”

“It is a guardian’s job to take care of their ward, no?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then I’m just doing my job. There’s no need to thank me.”

~

Yang was repairing Cole’s robes when the boy walked up to him. He’d been thinking about how reckless children were, and if it was possible to get more durable clothing. He hadn’t been expecting Cole to be awake for several more hours.

“I want to be a vigilante,” Cole said. He looked at Yang in the face — not quite eye contact, the boy hated that, but close.

“A vigilante? Explain,” Yang frowned.

“They fight crime. I think I used to be one, and I want to do it again.”

Yang sighed and put down the sewing materials. He looked at Cole. “You remember your past?”

“Only some. It’s still really blurry, but I’m sure about this.”

“You fought crime. Illegally, I presume. And you want to do it again.”

“Yes.”

“You’re aware of how dangerous that would be?”

Cole shuffled a little, clearly finding the situation awkward. “Yes, but I’ve trained a lot. You said I was good enough to take out an army.”

That had been a bit of an exaggeration. Yang regretted speaking in such a way. “You are good, yes, but that was hyperbole. Nobody can fight hundreds of people at once and win.”

“But I’m still good at fighting. And staying hidden. And gathering information.”

Yang wondered again when he had gotten attached to the boy. He certainly hadn’t cared when he first found him. And now he was worried about the boy being in danger, of all things.

“Cole, when I first found you, you were dead.” Cole flinched at the reminder but nodded. “That was almost certainly because of your ‘vigilante gig,’ so to speak. And you want to go out again to put yourself in danger.”

“I’m trained now.”

“You were trained before,” Yang retorted.

“I’m trained more.”

“You are still a child.”

“But I want to help people!” Cole looked desperate now. “I can help. I have all this training and experience that others don’t and I can save people!”

“Why?”

Cole picked at his nails. “I made a promise to someone,” he said. “‘Always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust.’ I want to keep that promise.”

“There are people out there who would hurt you. They would want to study you like a specimen in a lab.”

“Then I’ll avoid them.”

“It’s not that simple, Cole.”

“Master Yang, please.” Cole wiped tears from his eyes. Yang pushed down the feeling of guilt.

“You are trained, but would have no backup. I would not be able to help you if you’re in trouble.”

“I want to keep that promise,” Cole repeated. He had a steely look in his eyes. This was not something he’d back down from.

Yang got up from the table. “You must defeat me in a spar. Neither of us will hold back. If you win, you can become a vigilante.”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?” The boy knew how to read the fine print. That was good. It would be a useful skill in the outside world.

“Then you stay here with me.”

“I accept your terms.”

“Then come,” Yang said. “Whoever gets knocked down first will lose. Any weapons are allowed. Fight dirty if needed.”

Cole nodded and followed to the training room. He took his position opposite to Yang. “I’m ready,” he said. He held his signature scythe in one hand and a set of daggers in the other.

Yang attacked first, a series of blows and kicks meant to incapacitate an enemy. Cole dodged and returned his own attacks, a flurry of knives and sharp kicks. Months of training had honed his skills into something deadly, more fluid than the style he’d had when he first arrived.

A dodge, and then a parry from Cole’s scythe. Yang was careful not to aim for the throat or head, hitting the legs and stomach instead. His sword clashed with the scythe. Multiple knives were thrown at each other. A dagger embedded itself into the wall.

It took almost thirty minutes for Cole to knock Yang down. He used his earth powers to his advantage, creating stepping stones to jump off of and hit Yang in the chest. He fell against the wall without a sound.

“I did it!” Cole cheered. He rushed to help his mentor off the floor. “I won, right? You said we could fight dirty.”

Yang dusted off his robes, rather pointlessly considering that he was a ghost and could not get dirty. “Yes, you won. You may become a vigilante and help save people.”

“Yes!”

Yang smiled at the scene. And if he’d let Cole win on purpose, well, nobody needed to know.

~

“—and it should be black, so that I can blend in easily. But also a cape! And a full face mask, to protect my identity.”

“You should talk less and focus more on your designing,” Yang commented. He looked over Cole’s drafts for the vigilante uniform. They were hastily coloured and roughly sketched — nothing final, just good enough to get an idea of how it could look.

“It should have orange accents, too. And pockets,” Cole scribbled some more notes. His hands were stained with charcoal and ink.

“It is very dramatic.”

“That’s the point!”

“You are adding a… scar to the mask?” Yang gestured at the large zig-zag drawn on the design. 

“It’s supposed to look like the one I have. But orange, so that it matches the theme.” Cole pointed at the large scar on his face. After so many months, Yang doubted it’d ever heal. Cole would have to conceal it for the rest of his life.

“That is a liability to your identity.”

“I don’t plan to take off the mask. No one will know.”

“If you insist,” Yang sighed. He was already thinking of how to get supplies for this project. It would be a pain to find proper metal for the armour.

“I’m going to have a mask underneath, too, if it makes you feel better.”

“Alright, then.”

“I’m also going to add a voice modulator. So that I can sound scarier. And more adult-like.”

“You are barely five feet tall. Hardly an adult.”

“Platforms exist for a reason,” Cole rolled his eyes. Yang tried not to laugh at that.

~

It was finally complete. After hours and hours of work and multiple injuries, Cole had finally finished his new costume. He was quite proud of it — the orange accents weren’t too bright, so that he could blend in easily, but they still stood out. And it had all the appropriate ‘cryptid assassin’ vibes, just as he’d intended.

“What do you think, Master?”

Yang stood over Cole, examining the newly completed uniform. “It is good,” he said. “You have a talent for designing things.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m sure you will strike fear into the hearts of many.”

“I’m not trying to scare people. I want to save them,” Cole said.

“Hmmm.”

“The scaring people is targeted at bad guys.”

Yang nodded thoughtfully. His pupil had grown so much from the scrawny little boy he’d first found. He was a true warrior, now — perhaps not the undefeatable assassin Yang had first sought out to make, but formidable all the same. He was proud of the boy.

“I’m almost ready, now. I think I’ll leave tomorrow.” Cole looked at Yang for permission, as if he had not made up his mind to leave weeks ago.

“Of course. Make sure to visit a lonely old man when you get the chance, yes?”

“I wouldn’t leave you, not forever. You’re my family,” Cole said.

Family? That was a word Yang hadn’t head in a long time. He certainly had never been called family before. It warmed him to know that Cole thought him a member of his family.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Yang said.

~

The next morning, Cole packed his bags and sat beside Yang on the porch. To passerby, they’d see only a young teenager sitting on his own, swinging his legs and looking nervous. To Yang, he saw a boy he’d grown to care for as a son. He didn’t want Cole to leave. It seemed like they’d barely spent a week together, though it had been nearly a year.

Was it selfish, to wish that Cole would stay with him? Yang had grown to care for the boy. He’d never had a family, not in life, but it felt like Cole was his family. Cole himself had said that Yang was his family, and Yang returned the sentiment. Would it be selfish to ask him to stay forever, as father and son, untouched by time or the outside world?

It would be, Yang thought. Cole was nearly sixteen, by his estimates — it was high time he leave to find his own way. Even if his way was to become an illegal crime fighter.

“I’m going to take a train to the main city,” Cole said, breaking the silence. “I’ll figure living arrangements out when I get there.”

“You have enough money? Clothes, food, all your weapons?” Yang asked. It never hurt to make sure, though he was sure Cole had prepared well.

“Yes, Master. I’ve got more than enough of everything,” Cole laughed. 

“That is good,” Yang breathed. He turned to look at Cole properly. “I have a gift for you,” he said. 

“A gift?”

“Yes,” Yang pulled out the dagger. It was an ornate thing, fragile but dangerously sharp. It had been carved from obsidian and inlayed with silver centuries ago. It had been passed down from mentor to mentor over many years. Yang himself had inherited it when he left his mentor. And now it was Cole’s to wield.

“It’s beautiful,” Cole said. He turned it, watching the blade reflect light and sparkle a million different colours.

“My mentor passed this down to me, years ago. And now it is yours.”

Cole held the dagger to his chest. “Thank you, Master Yang.”

“The blade is supposedly enchanted to protect its owner. I hope that it will bring you protection.”

“Thank you,” Cole repeated. He sheathed the dagger into one of his many hidden pockets.

“You should go, now. You will be late for your train.”

“Yeah, I should,” Cole said sadly. He picked up his duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder. The he hugged Yang.

Ghosts cannot be touched. That is a well known fact. But Cole hugged Yang anyway, simply because a boy touched by death like he was could.

“Goodbye, my pupil,” Yang pulled away from the hug. 

“Goodbye, Master,” Cole said in return. He made his way down the path to civilisation and the city.

~

Cole ran down a dark alley, uncaring of the cockroaches and rubbish everywhere. He stuck to the shadows, barely making a sound. The man he was following continued talking on the phone, unaware of the boy behind him. Cole slammed him on the back of the head and twisted his arms.

“You’re going to go to the police station,” he said slowly, “and you’re going to confess to murdering your wife. If you don’t, I’ll know.”

“Who the hell are you?” The man spat. His eyes were full of terror and confusion. 

“I’m the Talon, and you’re going to do as I say or face the consequences.”

“What is this, some sorta bad movie? I’m not doing—“ whatever the man meant to say was cut off as Cole knocked him out. A bit of blood trickled from his temple. 

“Amateurs,” Cole rolled his eyes and picked the man’s wallet up. He’d drop the guy off with evidence and keep the money. There was enough to book himself a ticket to Ninjago City Central, at least. Shame that he hadn’t wanted to confess on his own, though. The justice system would be much harsher on him now. 

He picked the body up and dragged it to the police station. Then he changed into civvies and went up to the bus stop. He looked at the ticket dispenser in the eyes, just as he’d practiced.

“One ticket, please,” Cole smiled. Yang had taught him to be charming, after all.

[casinodove]

⁺‧₊ CUPIDITY ─ y!Capitano .

IN WHICH, his lack of control over his cupidity was certainly visible whenever he was with them.

─ sfw , cws for general yandere themes , capitano being deranged , mild dumbification , power imbalance , talks of "owning" someone , misuse of power , somewhat mild violence , toxic relationships , helplessness , slight sadism , mentions of blood n cutting someone's throat , forced marriage

gn!reader ft. they/them prns , 2nd person pov , y!capitano x reader

─ side notes , you've already heard of gentle and caring yandere capitano now get ready for rough, sadist, deranged and bloodthirsty yandere capitano, bought to you by yours truly. Also new layout wow. Not proofread surprisingly

CUPIDITY , (n.) Greed, strong desire

─LOVE CONFESSIONS WERE ALWAYS DESCRIBED AS EUPHORIC, ROMANTIC AND PASSIONATE IN ALL THE BOOKS YOU HAD READ.

It wasn't that huge of a surprise to you when his love confession was nothing like that, you had already picked up on his odd behavior from months prior to it.

However, calling it pleasant, nice, or romantic in any shape or form would be a stretch, for those were certainly the only emotions you didn't feel during the moment. It was empty of all passion, the euphoria was there yet it was there for a bad reason.

─ THE SWORD GRAZED AT YOUR SKIN, CUTTING ONE THIN LINE THAT TRAVELED DOWN FROM YOUR JAWLINE TO YOUR NECK

Although the cut itself wasn't that deep, it was deep enough to draw blood. The fresh wound on the sensitive skin of your neck began to sting as blood dripped down onto your shirt.

─ "Say it"

He commanded, pressing the swords sharp tip a tiny bit further into the flesh of your neck, inching closer towards you.

Your breath hitched and one painful lump manifested itself into your throat, saying what he wanted to hear was certainly getting harder by the second considering that he'd only need to push the sword into your flesh a little more to separate your neck into two pieces.

Swallowing hard, you gathered whatever crumb of courage was left within you and tried to mentally prepare yourself before finally speaking up.

─ "Please put the sword away, my Lord."

Your voice sounded way louder than it should've within his cold study room, which sent you into some slight panic since you didn't want to anger him by being too "demanding"

Despite your pathetic plea, he only twisted the sword ever so slightly, his dark helmet boring through you.

It was clear from his lack of speech that his previous demand stood and that perhaps the only way he'd remove the blade from your flesh would be if he was satisfied with the love confession that he knew you'd eventually make.

─ HIS HELMET STARED BLANKLY AT YOU, LIKE A BLOODTHIRSTY PREDATOR STARED AT ITS PREY MOMENTS BEFORE DEVOURING IT IN A FIT OF BLOODLUST.

It would be helpful for your escape if you weren't pressed up against a wall and well, his sword however escape wasn't what you were planning for the moment, for what currently mattered right now was to get out of this situation with your throat intact.

Taking one last, quick scan of your surroundings you closed your eyes and took one deep breath, bracing yourself mentally and clinging onto the last bits of dignity left in you before he devoured that too.

Putting on your best innocent facade, softening your gaze and looking at his helmet in order to give an illusion of submission you let the lies words spill out from your mouth.

─ "it is true my Lord, that I too have loved you for long. I have loved you for many moons and yet I was fearful of admitting it. I feared rejection, for I didn't desire to be humiliated in such a way. My feelings are nothing but sincere for you, my Lord, and, it is beyond any shadow of a doubt, I'd truly like to spend the rest of my days by your side if you would allow me to."

He tilted his head slightly, searching within your facade eyes for any trace of a lie, yet instead of slicing your neck the sharpened blade traveled to your chin and raised it ever so slightly.

─ "We both know you better not be lying, dove. You are already aware of the consequences lying to your lover and Lord brings, no?"

Nodding your head the best way you could without cutting yourself on his sword you never dropped the act once.

─ "Ofcourse, I.. wouldn't lie to you, my Lord."

You struggled forcing the innocent tone out of your throat the best way you could, fully knowing it was one poor attempt at pleasing his intensifying cupidity.

It truly astonished you how the previous few minutes he was ranting about how much he loved you, about how much he required you to continue living, and then a minute after he was done with that, the blade that was previously barely touching you was threatening to slice your throat as he demanded you to confess your neverending love back to him.

However, even without the sword, there was nothing else you could do but "confess" your totally existing love for him, for he was an almighty harbinger and you were a low ranking fatuu, he could destroy you in more ways than one just considering that.

Yet, you couldn't say you really enjoyed this extra attention from your superior, it truly brought chills down your spine whenever he'd coo things at you as if you were too dumb to understand his big words otherwise. You knew he was wrongly using his power to get what he wanted from you, matter of fact he had done it so many times, yet nobody really cared. Nobody cared about when you were forced into going out with him or forced into helping him on missions, nor when you were working overtime with him and spending multiple sleepless nights due to having to help his lordship.

Simply because he, was a harbinger, a high ranking one at that, and you, were merely a nobody compared to him. And goodness, did he make sure to drill that into your head every chance he got.

─ "Well then, I shall believe you and allow you to spend your days alongside me. Betrayal and disloyalty will not be tolerated any longer from this point on."

He put the sword away, and with one swift move his gloved hand slid the lavish ring onto your finger, the ring felt heavy on your finger not due to it being made out of pure gold nor due to the previous gems adorning it but due to the burden that you now had to forever carry with you by being his lawful partner.

For you knew, the ring was but another mark of clear ownership, and it was that very ownership you desperately wanted to get rid of.

im litteraly going feral over this man rn I can't even

─ casinodove , 22.01.23 .

do not copy, translate nor rewrite any of my works without explicit permission from me !

[4e7her]

11. "don't you believe me?" Mission impossible: Make Azul happy and not a mess in one prompt.

Just not in this one :)

Don’t you believe that all he’s doing, all he gave, was for you?

poor fucking azul. i love him and this is how i choose to treat him.

-

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ for my new years event ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

character: azul ashengrotto, twst

contains: yandere themes, angst, gn reader, mild violence

"I love you. Don't you believe me, darling? Please."

Azul is nearly teary-eyed, trembling as he stares at you with all the desperation in his being. You're situated across from him - the both of you standing on opposite sides of his desk in his office. You almost want to believe him.

"Please, please, my love. Believe me. That's all I ask of you. Don't doubt me. Not on this."

You don't. You can't.

Whatever this was, whatever he felt for you, it wasn't love.

Tricking you into working at the Monstro Lounge was one thing - it seemed to be his favorite past-time, trapping poor unfortunate souls into unfavorable contracts.

Stalking you and sending the Leech twins to harass you was another thing entirely.

"You don't, Ashengrotto. You really, really don't."

"How? How could you know that?" Tears are starting to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he tries to come closer, close the distance between you two - you take a deliberate step back when he does. "You can't decide that for me, darling. Please. Please, even if you don't feel the same, you have to believe me. All that I've done has been for you. For us. Can't you see it?"

Your disgust is thinly veiled as you sneer down at him, making your way closer to the door.

"Fuck you, Ashengrotto. You're delusional."

He chokes on a sob at the curse, and he starts to move to follow until you glare at him with venom. For a moment, you really, really want to curse him out and spew vitriol. Let him see how you really feel. If he's crying at just this, you can't imagine how he'd react.

"Please!" Azul throws himself to his knees, before you like a dog, shuddering as he stares up at you and starts begging. "Please, please, please, darling, you can't. You can't just go. You can't leave me."

God, maybe you should. Maybe you really should give him a piece of your mind. But then again, it's your attention he wants. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anything from you. It takes you only a moment of staring down at this sad husk of a man to decide.

"You're fucking pathetic."

Your hate is clear in your tone, and he snivels like a child as you bring your hand down, tracing it through his hair. He looks almost hopeful at the soft touch, even as you keep talking.

"You put on such an act, don't you? Pretending to be some big bad scary business man, but this is all you are. A dog at my feet."

Suddenly, you grip his hair, yanking him up as you lean down to stare into his eyes with a scowl. Really, he's nothing but a pest at this point. You can't believe that you tolerated so much from this. This pitiful fucking thing. He outright cries at the pain, tears running down his face, but he doesn't move away.

"God. You're that deluded, aren't you? As long as it's me, you'd let me do fucking anything." You sigh as you drop him, watching as he crumples without you holding him up. He's barely able to glance up before you're already opening the door, showing yourself out, and thus, showing everyone that was in the lounge the sight of the ever-pitiful Azul at your feet. "You mean nothing to me, and you never will. You're nothing but a fly buzzing around. If you really wanna make me happy, leave me alone."

It's nothing but a low mutter, but you know he heard it by how his sobs start anew, gasping and hiccupping. You don't look back as you leave.

At least the message is clear.

With any luck, he'll be too busy dealing with this PR nightmare to go hounding after you.

-

[click here to go to masterlist.]

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

A bunch of thugs kidnap the younger brother of the most powerful hero on Mobius.

They really should've known better...

LONG LIVE WHOLESOME SONIC AND TAILS WEDNESDAY!

[bizzwizzproductions]

Old Jodio Joestar fanart I made because I love jjba

[mothiepixie]

Totally not Boysen looking at Motti tryna find something new and ended up noticing a bruise under the side of her eye. He cups her cheeks then proceeds to ask what happened, which Motti lied saying she fell while standing on a chair tryna get the perfect measurements possible.

Boysen didn't take it and just patted her before leaving, not even an hour later he came back with an ice pack and sat Motti down so she can relax and slowly placed the ice pack on her bruise with a concerned look on his face.

What he did within that hour was use his connections to find out who did it and make sure even their bloodline feel his scorn.

[oops-it-happened-again]

The Pretty Prince - Chapter 2

It bears repeating, I'm not looking for hostile discourse about camps and who's right and wrong. Please, do not come to me seeking to fight.

If this is not your vision, that's okay. Please don't come for me!

Also, I love Alicent, but - for the purpose of this fic - she's a villain :D

<- Chapter 1

Tags: @mamawiggers1980

Ellyn sets her plan into motion. It does not go as expected or desired, and she soon finds herself in hot water.

Words: 3,5k

Pairing: Aemond x Ellyn Baratheon (textual ghost)

Warnings: abuse, neglect, insecurity, arranged marriage, mention of brothel, mention of disfigurement, insults, slightly Aemond-apologetic, Aemond is a sad boy, mild violence, threats, sexual subtext & tension

Despite Hala’s protests, Ellyn proceeded to corner a poor woman leaving a nearby pillow house and convinced her to sell her the worn, translucent shift on her very body.

“This is a terrible idea,” her maid insisted again. “This city’s crawling with vermin—you don’t want to stay here. Let’s go home.”

Hala bit her lip guiltily. “If you’re lucky, none of you has to marry him. He might well die in the war he’s started.”

She knew that it was treason to say such a thing out loud, but she’d served Ellyn for too long and too faithfully to want to see her mistress bound to an amoral monster.

Having been all but born into service to the family, Hala had never known a life without Ellyn—they had been childhood companions and mutual adolescent confidantes, and, on many an ill-advised adventure, they’d only relied on each other before.

“My father gave his word, and I intend to keep it,” Ellyn replied in a steely tone. “I shall find out what I need to know, and then we can turn back.”

Sighing in exasperation, Hala thus dutifully followed her into the meandering labyrinth of King’s Landing’s smaller, less reputable streets.

They took a room in a small inn, and Hala would have much preferred if they’d asked the serving wench to bring up a plate of cold meat and dark bread, but Ellyn insisted on eating in the common room instead.

“Your grandsire has loved you too much,” the maid muttered disobligingly. “He’s spoiled you and given you strange notions about danger.”

“That may be so,” Ellyn agreed, “but I want to listen to what the people say.”

Unfortunately, they learned little and less. The smallfolk’s worries were centred around mundane considerations like the tightening blockade and the imminent end of summer rather than the intrigues of the crown.

From what she could gather from eavesdropping discreetly, those who did take an interest were rarely of one mind when it came to the “rightful” heir. One thing seemed clear, though, few were those who liked Aemond.

He was deemed useful, and the sheer size of his dragon was a source of reassurance and dread alike, but the man himself seemed to be but a bitter-tasting afterthought.

“Let’s retreat,” Hala pleaded again once their dinner had been consumed and their tankards emptied. “There’s nought more to be learned tonight.”

And, as much as Ellyn yearned to stay in the crowded, smoky room and listen to strangers talk about things she didn’t understand, she finally gave in.

She didn’t want to be found out too early by lingering overlong, so she let her faithful maid lead her away to where none would find her.

It felt as if she’d only just settled on the lumpy mattress when Ellyn awoke once more to the sound of distant wailing.

Being no stranger to ominous commotions in the middle of the night, she leapt up and padded to the window—the flimsy curtain felt greasy and grimy beneath her clammy fingers, and when she pulled it aside, she found that the street was alight with torches.

“What is it?” Hala joined her by the small cut-out in the rough wall.

“If only I knew,” Ellyn whispered, wishing desperately that her grandfather Boremund was alive still. He would have known what to do and how to act—he’d have instructed her on how to deal with his son’s potential overreaching and the prospect of wedlock.

As the two women looked on, spellbound, people hurried to and fro frantically, banging on doors and spreading their seemingly monumental tidings.

It took another hour at least for Ellyn and Hala to overhear a conversation outside the door to the small lodging house.

“They say the heir has been murdered—it was surely that one-eyed degenerate they were looking for. The King…”

The rest of the sentence was swallowed hastily as a tall, dark-clad, eerily familiar figure pushed its way through the throng of gossipmongers ruthlessly without even taking the time to inquire what had happened.

“It cannot be,” Hala whispered. “By the Seven—it mustn’t be. This is not a safe place, Milady, let’s leave now.”

Every fibre in Ellyn’s being knew that her maid was right, but she couldn’t overcome her instinctive reluctance.

“Someone is trying to murder one who might soon be my brother-in-law,” she murmured pensively.

“And a good thing too,” Hala hissed vehemently. “Cassandra can’t have him, he won’t have Maris, and you wouldn’t let him have Floris. So he might well be destined to become your Lord.”

“If that is so,” Ellyn whispered. “Is it not my duty to stand by him in his time of need?”

“Certainly not,” Hala exclaimed, clutching at her shoulders. “Come away, Milady, I beg you!”

“If he comes back tomorrow, Hala,” Ellyn said without taking her eyes off the milling street below. “I shall go down and enact my plan. I must know what kind of man he is.”

Clenching her teeth, Hala resolved that—if Aemond turned out to be even half the beast people thought him to be—she’d kill him with her own two hands.

“Where were you?” Alicent hissed, her eyes wide and frantic.

She reminded Aemond of a horse about to bolt through solid wood and cutting cables in its sheer panic.

“I was out,” he replied calmly. “Where’s my sister?”

When his mother’s eyes grew cold and hard, Aemond realised that he’d disappointed her once again. He’d failed to ask about his brother, his king, and she was eager to take this omission as an offence.

“Father has informed me that you were happy enough to plot behind our backs,” she hissed. “But when we needed you, you were nowhere to be found.”

Pressing his lips together so tightly it hurt to keep from asking where she had been when her grandson and the future of a tottering realm had been murdered in his bed, Aemond weathered her helpless disdain as he always had.

She didn’t even bother to dismiss him—the dowager queen simply drifted out of the room without another word, leaving him to his private thoughts and regrets.

All eyes were now on the royal family—the people wanted to see the bereaved mother and Viserys’s dignified, mournful widow while Aegon raged, and Otto connived coldly.

In this game of appearances, there was no place for one for whom nobody—not even his own kin—felt any sympathy.

Thus, Aemond stayed in the background, musing about Daemon’s daring plot obsessively; he was flattered to be considered so awful a threat, but he also felt unbearably guilty.

This was the second boy who’d been wrenched from his mother because of him. Of course, Aemond knew that he was but one part in the ponderous, terrible machine of war and succession, but he resented the fact that, rather than being an innocent cog, he was the teeth of the very monstrosity grinding his family to dust.

As the night wore on, he had to wonder whether his mother or grandsire would have taken such drastic measures if it had been Alicent’s second-born who’d been killed in an unfortunate accident. Probably not.

The next day, he was in a constant state of readiness. Nobody called on him to represent—Aemond should not have been surprised by that, but it hurt nevertheless to realise how little he was valued beyond his martial prowess.

The bitterness ebbing and surging within his tight throat was profoundly undignified, and—when at last he could take the silent rooms and empty halls no more—he fled the Keep to find solace in the arms of one who’d never denied him.

Of course, Madame Silvi was paid handsomely for her services, but he liked to imagine that she cared for him at least a little.

Here, in this pit of squalor and sin, he could shed the mask of cold indifference and haughty self-aggrandization to admit that he regretted the whole incident that had triggered such an avalanche of misery.

She listened—she understood.

“I’ll be right back,” the ageing prostitute whispered tenderly—she’d heard one of the younger girls squeal and wanted to make sure none of their patrons was taking more than he’d paid for.

Sitting up slowly, Aemond focused on the ribald jokes and raucous laughter just outside the small alcove.

“You’re not one of mine,” he heard Silvi hiss threateningly a short time later.

Helpless anger for which he’d yet to find an outlet coursed through his blood as Aemond slipped back into his breeches and strode out forcefully.

Following the familiar voice, he found Silvi clasping the slender wrist of a young girl whose dark, flashing eyes darted around the brothel nervously.

At a glance, he could tell that the shrewd lady of the night was right—not only was that pale girl not employed in this establishment, Aemond was even sure that she was no whore at all.

The teeth she bared in a rictus of panic were well-kept, and her even features were devoid of any trace of paint or other artifice.

“I’ll take care of this,” he grunted. “Say nothing to anyone—I’ll pay you well.”

Half-turning, Silvi gazed upon his face for a long moment, pondering, before she nodded curtly. “Very well. Do you require anything?”

“Wine,” Aemond said with a dangerously sharp smile. If this girl was one of the conspirators sent by Daemon, he’d find out soon enough.

“Take the last booth,” Silvi instructed. “I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

As soon as her beringed hand was withdrawn, Aemond’s closed like a vice around the slim wrist.

“Come!”

Thus, he dragged the feebly struggling stranger through a dirty curtain into a secluded half-room. “So, you’ve infiltrated a brothel, pretending to be a whore,” he drawled.

Ellyn’s stomach was in knots—she’d imagined this to go quite differently and cursed herself now for not having listened to Hala’s wise counsel.

“I am,” she said as firmly and assertively as she could.

“Prove it,” the Prince demanded, sitting down on the edge of the overly perfumed couch taking up most of the small alcove. “Go ahead!”

The object of her dangerous curiosity had evidently come to the aid of the madam in a haste for he wore neither tunic nor shoes.

Even more curious than this comparable state of nudity was the fact that he’d not bothered to don the eyepatch he was known to wear whenever he was seen in public.

As her mouth grew dry and her tongue heavy, Ellyn had to admit to herself that this sordid establishment could probably not fully be counted as “public”.

Aemond, oblivious to how flustered his bare chest and firm stomach made her, sucked his teeth impatiently.

His evident disbelief irked her, so Ellyn stepped forward brazenly but then stopped again, unsure of what to do next.

She’d never had a lover, and it showed.

Moreover, she was still overwhelmed by how quickly and inexorably she’d found herself enmeshed in an undeniable catastrophe.

How had she been to foresee that the eagle-eyed bawd would catch on almost instantly?

She’d wanted to learn more about Prince Aemond, but she’d never expected to be faced with the man himself—especially in such a shocking state of undress.

“Gods,” she sighed, lifting a hand as if to touch his cheek as the flickering light from the tapers flashed across the precious stone wedged into his shapely skull. “That must have hurt!”

An expression of genuine surprise, at once chased by something hardened and hurt, rippled across his face.

“You’re not convincing, girl,” he said in a cold tone.

Ellyn realised that she had to move lest she make a bad situation worse by regrettable indecision, so she went to him, straddling his thighs and pressing a coy kiss upon the corner of his mouth.

Before she could so much as congratulate herself for this brave act, he’d thrown himself around, pinning her wrists above her head and pressing her into the dirty mattress with his full weight.

“I knew it,” he snarled. “Of all the things a whore does willingly for the right sum, kisses are the one they are notoriously avaricious about. Who are you?”

Rearing up frantically against him, Ellyn—bereft of her hands to claw herself out—tried to kick and bite in her desperate attempt to break free from his painfully firm hold.

“Dirty spy! Murderess!” he spat, his one eye wide with boundless ire.

Ellyn turned her head in a vain attempt to shield her face from the blows she anticipated—she didn’t understand the terrible accusations he laid at her feet, and her mind was too befuddled with existential fear to even try to make sense of it.

“I came for you,” she whimpered.

“That’s what I thought. Go on then, here I am,” he said, his voice tired and hollow now as he lifted himself halfway off her and extended his arms. “Do your worst.”

Aemond flinched when those soft lips brushed against his own once more so hesitantly that it could hardly be called a proper kiss.

“Did it hurt very much? Did they have to reopen the wound to…put this in?” the woman asked, tracing the scar marring half of his face reverently.

He was about to ask her once more who she was when the shifting light unburied a confused memory in his mind.

“I’ve seen you before,” he whispered thoughtfully.

The hand espousing the sharp line of his cheek now was soft and free of calluses, and the youthful face blurring in and out of focus before his solitary eye was fresh and smooth.

Furthermore, he could make out a hint of violets and rain in the discreet scent emanating from her skin—she was high-born, and probably very far from home.

“Stand!” he rasped, peeling himself off her soft, yielding flesh.

His unrestrained violence had left dark bruises on her creamy skin, and he shivered in disgust at this renewed reminder of his poor self-control.

She did as she was told without protest, though, and—as he drank in the voluptuous curves beneath the all-but-transparent shift—he felt his body react with visceral hunger while his mind was still entangled in the puzzle of her identity.

He was convinced that she was not a base-born prostitute, yet she was undeniably bare underneath the borrowed or stolen garment, and he was tempted to take her at her word. If only for one night of blissful oblivion which he needed so desperately.

The strange maiden with the sensuous mouth had the face of a girl, but the swell of her chest and the roundness of her hips told him that she was indeed a woman fully grown.

She shifted uncomfortably beneath his unwavering inspection, and the soft light dancing across her sweet features finally made the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“You’re one of Baratheon’s daughters,” he gasped, struggling to comprehend how that could be true.

“Ellyn,” she confirmed softly and curtsied. “We’ve not yet had the pleasure to have a conversation—your visit was…cut short.”

“What have you done? Does your father know that you’re here?” Aemond inquired tensely. They needed Storm’s End as an ally, and his blood ran cold as he realised that he’d almost destroyed yet another vital advantage by taking the girl’s maidenhead or life.

She scoffed, throwing back her long, unbound hair with a practised flick. “I’d hardly be the first young girl to lose her mind and follow a handsome knight,” she declared in the tone of one who usually had a cocky answer to even the most pertinent of questions.

Aemond willed the floor to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole.

“Handsome…what are you talking about, woman? Your father will have my head for this! And yours as well!”

“No, he won’t. He’ll agree with whatever lie I devise—I’m the least important of his daughters, and, if nobody knows I’ve been here, he won’t even ask where I’ve gone.”

The candid, humble way in which she presented so gruesome a truth gave Aemond pause—he’d struggled with similar thoughts earlier, but, unlike him, Lady Ellyn seemed to have made her peace with her position within her family.

“You’ve made yourself out to be a whore,” he thundered, hiding his confusion behind effervescent anger. “What for?”

“Nobody knows but you,” she smiled. “I’ve come to find out whether you’re a monster. I’m looking out for my sisters.”

At that, his face froze into a moue of disbelief.

“I am,” he then said challengingly. “What now? Are those sisters, sitting comfortably at your father’s table, worth the terrible sacrifice you were willing to make?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Always. Also, I don’t believe you.”

“You find me…in a whorehouse, in a state of disarray and undress…and yet, you don’t flee. Are you completely mad, woman?” he spat, torn between his expectation that she’d turn away in horror and his desperate hope that she wouldn’t.

“I don’t believe so, no,” she gave back conversationally and shrugged. “You’re a Prince of the Realm, and thus, it’s well within your rights to spend your nights as you see fit.”

“Have you forgotten what has transpired in the skies above your familial sanctuary?” he pressed on, determined to push her away before her candid gentility seduced him into revealing more of his pain than anybody could ever see.

“Orys Baratheon took Walter Wyl’s hands and feet as repayment for the one hand he’d lost to his father,” Ellyn shrugged. “It would be disingenuous of me to fault you for your claim, gruesome as it might have been.”

Speechless, he got up and took the carafe off the sideboard to pour the overpriced dark, heavy wine into the cheap goblets a discreet servant had put at their disposal.

“You’re one of the first people to ask me whether it hurt,” he then said without turning around. “It did. It’s a long time ago, though, and it was worth the sacrifice.”

“For the good of the realm, yes,” she replied. He could hear the creaking of the bed as she sat down again, waiting for him to hand her the drink he was holding so tightly he was afraid the stem would break off the flimsy chalice. “Nevertheless, it must have been frightening and agonising for one so young. I’m sorry.”

At last, he managed to reassert control over his limbs and turn around—he felt oddly vulnerable as he stood, bare-chested, before one so precious and noble.

Lady Ellyn’s smile was soft and dreamy as she took the glass and sipped daintily. “I thank you for your hospitality,” she said courteously. “Mayhap, I should indeed return to my father’s keep.”

Intertwining strains of greed—carnal, mental, emotional—flared to life in Aemond’s very soul.

He knew that he deserved no ruth, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of the crumbs of kindness she’d granted him even after he’d detained and hurt her in a fit of blind rage.

“You cannot,” he barked. “The roads are no longer safe, and nobody is allowed to leave the city. Haven’t you heard what has transpired?”

Her face fell, but her eyes remained dry as she met his gaze steadily. “Then, my fate is sealed. If I fail to slip back before long, my name shall be ruined, and I shall have to throw myself at the mercy of the Faith. Not the worst fate for one as me…”

“No,” he hummed. “The Red Keep has been plunged into chaos and mayhem. Everyone is much distracted by the demise of the boy. I can smuggle you in—we can claim that you’ve come to keep my sister company in her hour of grief. Surely, your father would not refute so noble an endeavour?”

“He would not,” she agreed. “Nonetheless, I’ve arrived too early for that subterfuge to be credible, I’m afraid. Where would you hide me in the meantime? As we’ve established, I’m less talented an actress than I thought I was.”

“My rooms,” he croaked. “Nobody ever seeks me out there—you’d be safe.”

“That suits me perfectly,” she grinned impishly. “As I’ve said, I find you quite delightful to look at, and I would learn as much about you as I may.”

That fragile moment of nascent understanding was rudely interrupted by the madam shoving the curtain aside roughly.

“My Prince,” she declared. “Your brother just arrived. Shall I inform you once he’s left?”

Sighing deeply, Aemond handed her the empty carafe. “Yes. We shall need more wine. I shall need my belongings as well before anyone recognises them and seeks me out.”

Turning to Ellyn, he informed her tersely that they’d have to abide a little longer.

“Very well, my Prince,” she smiled. “Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf, though. I’m not offended by the absence of your usual trappings and masks.”

So, this was the second chapter.

-> Chapter 3

⤳Masterlist

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