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raekensluver · 1 month ago

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The “might as well give them a show” Finnic smut???? Pretty please???!

finnick odair x tribute!fem!reader, 2.1k

"finnick," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. "we can't. we're being watched."

his eyes searched yours, a playful challenge in their depths. "so?" he smirked, his hand sliding down to your wrist and giving it a gentle squeeze. "give them a show, darling. after all, that's what we're here for, isn't it?"

you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward. you couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying the capital's expectations. so, with a smirk of your own, you leaned in and kissed him. it was a soft kiss at first, tentative and gentle, but as your bodies pressed closer together, it deepened. your hands found his waist, pulling him nearer, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

the jungle around you seemed to hold its breath, the only sounds the distant calls of exotic birds and the rustle of leaves. you ignored the watchful eyes of the cameras, the invisible audience, and focused solely on the taste of him, the way his lips moved against yours. it was a moment of pure rebellion, a declaration of your feelings that echoed through the canopy above.

finnick's arms wrapped around you, one hand resting at the base of your neck, the other on your lower back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. the kiss grew more passionate, your tongues dancing together in a silent symphony of love and defiance. your heart thudded against your chest, each beat a silent protest against the regime that had forced you into this charade.

his hands began to explore, tracing the contours of your body, sending waves of desire crashing through you. you gasped against his mouth as he cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your jawline. the heat from his touch seemed to radiate through your skin, setting your insides alight with a hunger that had been building since the moment you first saw him again at the tribute parade.

the scent of damp earth and tropical blossoms filled your nostrils, mingling with the faint smell of saltwater from the ocean nearby. the cool breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the distant promise of a storm, hinting at the tumultuous emotions swirling within you both.

you broke the kiss and moved your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath your touch. the warmth of his skin was intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine. as you kissed down his neck, you felt his body tense, his grip on you tightening. the sensation of your soft kisses against his skin seemed to electrify him, making his breath hitch in his throat.

his eyes fluttered closed, a low groan escaping from his lips. the salty tang of his sweat mingled with the faint scent of ocean water that clung to him, a testament to your recent escape from the cornicopia. as your teeth grazed his earlobe, he shuddered, his hand moving from your waist to the back of your head, urging you closer.

you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the need for more of him overwhelming. your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips. his chest heaved against yours, and you could feel his heart racing just as fast as yours.

for a brief, stolen moment, you forgot all about the games, the audience, and the cameras. there was only you and finnick, lost in the jungle, free from the oppressive gaze of the capital. you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled back slightly to look at him, his eyes blazing with a passion that mirrored your own.

his gaze dropped to your lips, and he leaned in to claim them again, his kiss fierce and demanding. your response was immediate, matching his intensity, your bodies moving together in a dance as old as time. the jungle was a cocoon around you, a sanctuary of sorts, even with the ever-present reminder of the world outside.

you stumbled backward, the dense foliage providing a semblance of privacy as you found a relatively flat area of ground. the moist earth felt cool and firm beneath you as he laid you down, his body hovering over yours. your hands were in constant motion, exploring the planes of his back, the curves of his hips, the strength of his arms.

his own hands moved with a new urgency, fumbling at the neckline of your jumpsuit. it had no zipper, no easy way to remove it, so he took his time, peeling back the fabric with care. the jungle sounds grew louder around you, a cacophony of life that seemed to underscore the importance of this moment. the dampness of the jungle seeped into your skin, but you barely noticed as you were consumed by the heat of his touch.

his kisses grew more insistent, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and finally reaching the exposed skin of your chest. every place he kissed was a spark, igniting a fire that spread through your body. you arched your back, pushing yourself closer to him, desperate for more. his mouth closed over a nipple, his teeth grazing it gently before he pulled away with a soft nip that had you gasping for air.

"finn," you moaned, the sound a sweet agony that seemed to resonate through the very air around you. his eyes darkened, and his hand trailed down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath your jumpsuit that was gathered at your hips. the fabric was slick with sweat and rainwater, making it easy to slide down. you were now exposed to him, the jungle's coolness a stark contrast to the heat between your legs.

his smirk grew, and he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "you're so beautiful, darling." his voice was a soft rumble that sent a thrill through your core. "i've wanted this for so long."

his fingers delve into the warm, wet heat of your cunt. you bit your bottom lip, trying to muffle the moan that escaped as he found that spot that sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body. your eyes squeezed shut tightly as his skilled touch explored you, teasing and stroking in a rhythm that made your hips buck involuntarily.

his mouth returned to yours, swallowing your whimpers as he slid a finger inside you, then two, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit. you were so wet, so ready for him, and he took full advantage, filling you up as your body stretched around him. the sensation was almost too much to bear, your nails digging into the soil beside you as you clutched at the ground for purchase.

his movements grew more insistent, his kisses more demanding, and you felt your climax building like a storm in the pit of your stomach. the tension grew tauter, the anticipation almost unbearable. your hips met his hand with every stroke, urging him deeper, faster, harder.

"finnick, please," you panted, the words barely coherent as your body begged for release.

his eyes gleamed with a mix of desire and determination. "soon, darling," he murmured, his voice low and rough. he kissed along your jaw, nipping gently at the skin before moving to your neck. your breathing grew ragged, your chest heaving with each inhale and exhale, as his fingers continued to work their magic inside of you.

you could feel the moment approaching, your body tightening like a coiled spring, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. but just as you felt the first tremors of your climax, he abruptly stopped. your eyes flew open, a whine of protest escaping your throat.

"let's do this properly," he murmured, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he sat up. his eyes were dark with need, but there was also a gentle determination in them. without waiting for your response, he began to peel off his own jumpsuit, revealing his muscular torso. the material clung to his skin, as you watched.

his hands paused at his waist, and he looked down at you, his eyebrow raising in question. with trembling hands, you helped him remove the rest of his suit, revealing his strong thighs and his growing length between them. the sight of him sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you, and you felt your body respond, growing wetter and more eager.

once he was fully naked, he hovered over you, his body casting a shadow that contrasted sharply with the dappled light filtering through the leaves. he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. you reached down, wrapping your hand around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin and the hardness beneath.

his eyes never left yours as he pushed inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open with a delicious pressure. you felt yourself clench around him, trying to draw him in deeper, faster. your breath hitched, a silent plea for more, and he obliged, sliding all the way in until he was fully sheathed within you.

"you like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust. "knowing they're all watching you take me? their sweet little victor, giving it up for the camera. giving it up for me."

you couldn't help but moan in response, the idea of the capital's citizens watching this intimate moment making you feel both powerful and vulnerable. his words were like a drug, a heady mix of rebellion and desire that made your heart race even faster.

finnick began to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. every inch of him filled you completely, each thrust a declaration of his ownership over your body. but it wasn't just physical; it was emotional too, a connection that transcended the games and the cameras.

the dirt and leaves beneath you became a part of the moment, adding an earthy scent to the mix of sweat and arousal. the sound of your bodies moving together became a symphony that drowned out the whispers of the jungle. the rain began to fall, lightly at first, but it quickly grew into a steady rhythm that mimicked the beat of your hearts.

his strokes grew deeper, harder, and you felt your orgasm building once more. "finnick," you whispered, your voice tight with need. he responded with a groan, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that made you feel alive. the rain grew heavier, plastering your hair to your face and mixing with the sweat on your skin.

you bit down on your bottom lip, stifling a moan that threatened to tear from your throat. the cameramen, you knew, were capturing every moment of your forbidden union, but you didn't care. the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the way he filled you so completely, the way he made you feel alive in a world that sought to control every aspect of your existence.

finnicks pace grew more frantic, his breaths coming in harsh pants against your ear. the rain had picked up, drenching both of you in its warm embrace. you couldn't help but wonder if the gamemakers had orchestrated this sudden downpour, a cruel trick to heighten the intensity of the scene they were crafting for their twisted entertainment. but as finnick's hands found your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts, you had a sense that the rain was more than just a backdrop. it was a symbol of life, a force of nature that mirrored the passion that was building between you.

you felt the first droplets hit your face, mixing with your sweat and the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. the sensation was oddly freeing, a release from the tension that had been coiling inside you for so long. with every stroke, you felt yourself slipping further and further into a state of pure ecstasy, a place where the only thing that existed was the two of you, entwined together in the heart of the jungle.

his mouth found yours again, his kiss a declaration of war against the capital that had sought to control you both. "you're mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice a mix of love and desperation. "always remember that."

his praise was a sweet balm to your soul, soothing the scars that the games had left behind. "i'm yours," you whispered back, your voice a soft echo of his own. the words held more power than any weapon in the arena could ever hope to possess.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #sam claflin #sam claflin x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games trilogy #hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #mara's inbox *ੈ✩‧₊˚

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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No Words Needed - Jeremiah Fisher x Reader

Summary: Jeremiah joins you at the end of the pier, wondering why you're not having fun with everyone else

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: makeup session

Y/N’s POV

The worn wooden planks of the bench cradle me as I is at the end of the pier, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. The evening sun, now a radiant orb of orange and pink, begins its decent, casting a warm glow that dances upon the water’s surface. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the pier is a lullaby, a gentle reminder that time moves in tandem with the tide. The air is infused with the unmistakable scent of saltwater, a fragrances that’s both invigorating and comforting. It tickles my senses, and I take a deep breath, letting the tangy breeze fill my lungs. The distant calls of seagulls add a melodic layer to the symphony of the sea, creating a serene atmosphere that wraps around me like a familiar embrace.

As I watch the sun dip lower, the sky transforms into a canvas of hues — apricot merging into lavender, then fading into the deeper blues of twilight. The colours reflect off the water, creating a mesmerising panorama that stretches as far as the eye can see. The world seems to slow down in these moments, as if the sun and the sea have conspired to gift me a pause button

With each passing minute, the temperature drops slightly, and a gentle breeze ruffles my hair. I draw my knees up to my chest, embracing the slight chill that contrasts the lingering warmth of the day. It’s a sensory feast—the taste of salt in the air, the sound of waves serenading the shore, the sight of the sun bidding its daily farewell.

As the light continues to fade, the ambient sounds of the evening become more pronounced. In the distance, I hear the soft padding of footsteps against the wooden planks, and a shadow falls across the pier. A subtle anticipation rises within me, wondering who might be joining me at the edge of the world.

The approaching presence becomes more distinct, and soon a familiar figure settles beside me. Jeremiah’s silent arrival is like a gentle breeze, a quiet acknowledgement that needs no words. I send him a soft smile before turning my attention back to the breathtaking view.

Jeremiah doesn’t say anything: he just watches. His presence is comforting, and the shared quiet is like a secret language only we understand. I steal glances at him in the fading light. His profile is etches against the backdrop of the ocean, the hues of twilight casting a soft glow on his features. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m prettier than the view unfolding before us. The breeze tousles his sandy hair, and I find myself drawn into the tranquility of the moment. The lines of worry on his face seeming to ease, and it’s as if the sea has a way of soothing not just me but him as well.

The silent dance of the waves below continues as the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in its final strokes of warm colour. Jeremiah’s silent company becomes a steady anchor, and the shared quiet between us deepens, becoming a refuge from he world beyond the pier.

I shift slightly, almost instinctively, closer to Jeremiah, feeling the warmth of his presence. The wood of the bench creaks softly under our combined weight, a testament to the intimacy of the is shared space. Without a word, I rest my head on his shoulder, finding solace in the subtle connection that goes beyond the spoken language.

Jeremiah responds with a gentle squeeze, his arms wrapping around me. It’s an unspoken embrace, a wordless assurance that he’s here, not just physically, but in a way that transcends the tangible. The breeze carries the scent of the ocean, and I close my eyes, breathing in deeply, letting the tranquility of the moment seep into my soul.

As the sunset’s glow begins to yield to the embrace of the night, the horizon transforms into a tapestry of deeper blues and purples. The last remnants of daylight linger on the horizon, and I find myself melting into Jeremiah’s side, the lines between us blurring into the fading light. The worry lines on his face seems to soften even more, and the weight that lingers in the air dissipates. We sit there together, a silent union against the backdrop of the sea, finding a refuge in each other’s presence.

I feel an inexplicable peace as I nuzzle my face into the crook of Jeremiah’s neck, breathing in deeply. His scent, a subtle blend of saltwater and the warmth of summer envelopes me. It’s a fragrance that mingles with the sea breeze, creating a sensory symphony that feels uniquely ours.

Jeremiah’s heartbeat echoes beneath my ear, its rhythm a steady lullaby. As the world around us falls into quietude, I sense the subtle quickening of his heart. It’s a whisper of vulnerability, a shared heartbeat that transcends the layers of silence. His arms, which encircle me, feel like a protective cocoon, creating a haven within the expending darkness. His hands find their way into my hair, fingers moving with gentle grace. Each touch is a reassurance, a tender affirmation that we’re both present in this shared sanctuary. I close my eyes, savouring the sensations of his hands running through my hair, a tactile expression of understanding and connection.

His other hand moves, bodying shifting towards me more, to cup my cheek. His thumb stroking a delicate path along my cheekbone, a gesture so tender it feels like a silent promise in the dimming twilight. I revel in the warmth of his palm against my skin, the reassurance of his touch anchoring me int he present moment. The night, now fully unfurled, wraps around us like a velvet cloak, and I find myself feeling both vulnerable and secure within the confines of his embrace.

His eyes, softened with the ambient glow of the evening, meet mine. There’s a silent question in their depths, a query that transcends words. The air around us holds a subtle tension, a moment suspended in time. As his gaze flickers down to my lips, a sudden spark of anticipation dances within me. It’s a simple glance, yet it carries the weight of unspoken desires and uncharted territories. In that fleeting moment, I feel a subtle shift in the rhythm of my heartbeat, an anxious flutter that echoes the gentle pulse of the sea.

Jeremiah’s eyes return to mine, and the unspoken question lingers in the air. The sea, the stars, the night—they become witnesses to this delicate interlude, where a shared silence speaks volumes.

A subtle breeze carries the scent of salt and summer, as if nature itself holds its breath, anticipating the next move in this shared dance. Jeremiah, with a gentle tilt of his head, leans down, closing the distance between us. The touch of his lips against mine is feather-light, almost hesitant, as if he, too, is navigating the uncharted waters of this moment.

His kiss is a whispered promise, a tender exploration that resonates with the ebb and flow of the waves beneath us. The world around us seems to blue, the sound of Belly, Steven and Conrad shrieking and laughing in the distance fades to nothing, and for a moment, it’s just him and me. The sweetness of the kiss lingers, a taste o fast and the promise of something new. In the hushed atmosphere of the pier, Jeremiah's kiss is a delicate revelation, a soft caress that resonates with the rhythm of the waves beneath us. As our lips meet again and again, there's an almost ethereal connection, an exploration that transcends the physical and delves into the uncharted territory of emotions.

The kiss is almost overwhelming, the taste of salt lingering on our lips like a secret shared between lovers. Jeremiah’s touch is a whispered promise, a gentle of exploration that communicates more than words ever could. The warmth of his lips against mine creates a cocoon of intimacy, a sanctuary where nothing else matters except the feel of his lips against mine and his hand cupping my jaw, thumb under my jaw.

As the kiss deepens, Jeremiah breaks away, but the lingering connection remains. He presses his forehead to mine, eyes closed and we’re both breathing heavily, caught in the aftermath of a shared moment that feels suspended in time. The air between us crackles with the electricity of newfound emotions, and I can sense the vulnerability in his closeness.

The moment of separation is brief but pregnant with unspoken understanding. Jeremiah’s ocean blue eyes, when they finally open, search mine as if he’s deciphering the depths of my soul. Without a word, he’s surging forwards again, his lips seeking mine with a newfound hunger that betrays the fear of losing this fragile connection.

The second kiss is different, charged with an urgency as if he’s afraid I might disappear if he doesn’t hold onto the moment. It’s not afraid I might disappear if he doesn’t hold onto the moment. It’s not just a kiss it’s a declaration, an affirmation of something unspoken but profoundly felt. His lips mould to mine, and I respond with an equal intensity, and I respond with an equal intensity, losing myself in the magnetic pull of the moment. The world around us dissolves once more, leaving only the symphony of our shared breaths and the distant murmur of the sea.

Gripping Jeremiah’s shirt in one hand, I feel the fabric bushing under my fingers. The other hand is tangled in his sandy-bold curls, and I tug lightly, savouring the soft sound he lets out—a whispered melody that joins the symphony of the night. His hands, once cupping my jaw, now explore the small of my back, creating a sensation that blurs the line between reality and the ethereal.

The kiss deepens in a convergence of desire and connection, and I feel every nuance of his response mirrored in the rhythm of our shared breaths. Jeremiah’s taste is both familiar and intoxicating, a blend of salt and sweetness that leaves an indelible mark on my senses.

I feel him close, our bodies pressed together in an unspoken promise of mutual understanding. There’s a warmth that radiates from the core of my being, a fire stoked by the intensity of the kiss and the closeness we share. Jeremiah’s hands, strong and sure, traverse the landscape of my back, leaving a trail of electric sensations in their wake.

A soft moan escapes Jeremiah, a muffled melody that becomes part of symphony of our shared breaths. Encouraged by the unspoken exchange, I tug at his curls again, and the sensation is met with a gentle squeeze of my hips. It’s an intimate dance of touch and response, each movement a silent affirmation of the connection between us.

Jeremiah, seemingly guides by an invisible force, pulls me onto his lip. His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. The world tilts for a moment, and I find myself straddling him, our bodies now intimately entwined. His tongue runs across the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. The feel of his tongue against mine is new and electric, a dance of warmth and familiarity that sends shivers down my spine. Our tongues move in tandem, an unspoken language that speaks volumes. The taste of salt, the heat of the night, and the passion between us a sensory tapestry that leaves an indelible mark.

But the kiss doesn’t linger on our lips for long. Jeremiah, with a subtle shift, moves his lips to my neck. The sensation is both tender and electrifying as he places soft, lingering kisses along the curve of my neck. His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers through me, and I find myself tilting my head, granting him better access.

As As Jeremiah's lips linger on my neck, his touch takes a slightly different turn. There's a pinch of pain and a twinge of discomfort as he sucks a hickey into existence, the initial sting met with a soothing stroke of his tongue. Embarrassingly, a soft sound escapes my throat, and I can feel him smiling against my neck, the shared intimacy creating a unique connection between us.

The sensations, a blend of pleasure and the slightly awkward reality of a hickey, become almost overwhelming. I find myself yearning for the familiar warmth of his lips on mine, the need to feel the connection more directly urging me to pull him back. My hand instinctively grips his curls, intending to guide his mouth back to mine. But, before our lips can barely brush, our names are called, and a groan escapes me. Conrad, always the untimely intruder, seems to have impeccable timing.

Jeremiah laughs softly, a sound that resonates through both of us, and he wraps his arms around my waist in a comforting hug. He calls back to Conrad, assuring him that we'll be there in a second. As the distant call fades, Jeremiah whispers to me, his warm breath against my ear, "My bedroom door is always open for you.”

His words carry a promise, a reassurance that this stolen moment on the pier is just a prelude to something more. I meet his gaze, a shared understanding passing between us. The interruption may have cut the night short, but the invitation lingers, a whispered promise that the sanctuary of the pier is not the only place where our connection can unfold.

Reluctantly, we disentangle ourselves, the echo of our interrupted desires lingering in the air. As we make our way back towards the distant call of Conrad and the world beyond the pier, Jeremiah's hand finds mine, and we share a glance that speaks volumes—a silent agreement that the night may have been interrupted, but the story between us is far from over.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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emzi-148 · 6 months ago

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For @rainbow-flavoured-skittles (l know you've read it already, but Imma just tag you again)

⟨⟨ For @ninjago-drabbles's Bruise Exchange 2024 ⟩⟩

❈❈❈

Tides of Destiny

Jay's POV

“Find him! Don't let the prisoner escape!”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n.”

Shit. They found out already. I'm barely even close to the deck…

My breaths came quick and shallow as I navigated the labyrinth of rooms, crates and barrels, my every movement fueled by the desperate need for freedom.

Memories of a life before being captured, a life of open seas and boundless horizons, flooded my mind. The salty air, the creaking of the ship's timbers, it all felt like a distant dream, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I had to escape, break free from Nadakhan's clutches, or risk being swallowed whole by this prisoner life.

Suddenly, the echo of approaching footsteps jolted me from my thoughts. Panic gripped my chest as I pressed myself against the cold, unforgiving barrels. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for my ill-fated escape.

A calloused hand closed around my shoulder, and I found myself face to face with Bucko, a sinister grin playing on his lips. His loyalty to Nadakhan was unwavering, a fact that filled me with dread.

“What's this?” Bucko sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “Thought you could slip away unnoticed, did you?”

Desperation clawed at my throat as I attempted to reason with him, to make him understand the dire need for my escape. But no words came out of my mouth…

Bucko's laughter, harsh and mocking, echoed through the night. “Sorry, mate,” Bucko retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm. “There's no escaping Nadakhan's wrath. You're as good as dead.”

In that moment, a surge of defiance coursed through my veins. I couldn't let them drag me back into the suffocating clutches of the prisoner life.

Without a second thought, I launched a punch at Bucko's gut, catching him off guard. As he doubled over in pain, his grip faltered, and I seized the opportunity to break free. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I sprinted toward the edge of the ship, the urgency of escape driving every step.

Without looking back, I leaped into the air, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on the churning waves below, a sharp pain exploded in my side. I gasped, realizing I'd been shot. The searing agony intensified as I plunged into the sea, the saltwater stinging my wounds.

As darkness closed in, the pain in my side intensified, and my limbs grew heavier with each stroke against the unforgiving sea. Nadakhan's enraged shouts echoed from above, a haunting symphony of my past sins catching up with me.

The water embraced me like a silent shroud, its cool embrace offering a fleeting respite from the chaos above. I kicked against the resistance, my strength waning with each passing moment.

In that moment, my life flashed before my eyes: from the first rafts I built to sailing the sea with my crew. Every memory, every adventure, etched into my soul as the ocean threatened to consume me.

And then, as if pulled by some unseen force, the darkness enveloped me, swallowing me whole. My consciousness slipped away, lost to the depths of the ocean, as I drifted further and deeper and deeper and deeper…

✯✯✯

As consciousness gradually returned, I found myself lying in a dimly lit cabin, the gentle sway of the sea lulling me back to awareness. My side throbbed with dull ache, but when I glanced down, I noticed that my chest was tightly bandaged, the pain now a distant echo of the chaos that had consumed me.

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I took in my surroundings. Dry clothes adorned my body… Where am I?

Before I could think of the question any longer, the creak of the cabin door drew my attention. An old woman shuffled into the room, her presence a comforting yet enigmatic presence in the quiet space.

“Ah, seems like my guess was correct,” she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. “Here, eat. You need it.”

I regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as she handed me a steaming bowl of stew, the aroma wafting up to fill the air with its savory fragrance. Who was this woman, and why had she taken it upon herself to care for me?

Taking the bowl with trembling hands, I watched as she settled herself in a weathered chair beside the bed. “I'm Mystake,” she offered, her gaze steady and unwavering. “And you, my dear, are in no condition to refuse a hot meal.”

I opened my mouth to question her further, to demand answers to the myriad of questions swirling in my mind. How had she found me? What did she want from me? But the words caught in my throat, lost amidst the haze of exhaustion and uncertainty.

Mystake seemed to sense my inner turmoil, offering me a reassuring smile as she continued to watch me with keen interest. “Your body washed ashore,” she explained simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But I couldn't bring myself to believe her, not entirely.

Still, I found myself nodding in reluctant acceptance, the urge to argue stifled by the gnawing hunger that gnawed at my insides. With a weary sigh, I turned my attention to the bowl in my hands, the warmth seeping into my bones as I took my first hesitant bite.

The stew was a symphony of flavors, each mouthful a testament to Mystake's skill as a cook. Despite my reservations, I couldn't deny the comfort it brought, the nourishment revitalizing my weary body with each passing moment.

As I ate, Mystake watched me with a quiet intensity, her eyes holding secrets that begged to be uncovered. But for now, I pushed aside my doubts, content to bask in the warmth of her hospitality and the flicker of hope that burned within me.

For in this moment, amidst the storm-tossed seas and uncertain shores, I found solace in the simple act of survival, and the unexpected kindness of a stranger named Mystake.

✯✯✯

Weeks later,

Weeks stretched into months, and I found myself settling into a rhythm of life within Mystake's secluded cabin.

Her hospitality surpassed my wildest expectations, and I couldn't help but marvel at the intricacies of her humble abode. For a house fashioned from little more than wood and bamboo, it held a charm and warmth that belied its simple exterior.

Yet, despite the comfort of my surroundings, a lingering sense of unease gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Mystake's behavior, though kind and hospitable, held an air of mystery that I couldn't quite shake.

There were moments when I caught her in quiet conversation, her voice carrying softly through the stillness of the cabin. But whenever I approached, she would quickly fall silent, as if guarding secrets too precious to share.

And then there were the fishes. An abundance of them, far more than one would expect from a woman who never ventured out to sea. Their presence fueled my suspicions, igniting a curiosity that burned brighter with each passing day.

Unable to ignore the questions that plagued my mind, I finally confronted Mystake one evening as we sat by the flickering light of the hearth.

“Mystake,” I began, my voice hesitant yet determined. “There are things about you that I don't understand. The way you talk, the way you act... And the fish, where do they come from?”

She regarded me with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a wisdom that seemed to reach beyond the confines of our small world. “Later at midnight. Go to the rocky shores. You'll find your answer there.”

“Okay?”

Mystake smiled one last time before retreating to her room.

✯✯✯

Later midnight,

As I approached the designated meeting spot, my eyes strained to discern Mystake's figure amidst the shadows. Yet, to my surprise, it wasn't her silhouette that I encountered on the rocks, but rather a mysterious presence.

As I drew nearer, the moonlight revealed a figure seated on the rocks, gazing up at the stars.

It wasn't human…

A realization that struck me with a mix of awe and disbelief. A mer, adorned in scales that shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, captivated by the celestial dance above.

The mer, with a tail of vibrant orange fading to yellow, adorned with mesmerizing blue highlights, looked in my direction, sensing my approach. In an instant, he leaped from the rocks, disappearing into the water with a graceful splash.

“Wait!” I called out, a surge of determination pushing me to follow. Without hesitation, I plunged into the cool depths, the water embracing me in its silent embrace.

As I swam deeper, I caught sight of the merman's tail disappearing into the darkness. Panic and exhilaration intertwined as I pursued him.

My lungs screamed for air, my oxygen depleting rapidly. Just when the edges of my vision blurred, I found the mer hovering above, his eyes locked onto mine. A stunning vision of orange and yellow, the glow of his tail casting an otherworldly radiance in the inky depths.

When he saw me, he gave me an eye roll with a sigh. As the world began to fade, consciousness slipping away like sand through my fingers, the mer reached out. Strong arms encircled me, pulling me to the surface just in time.

Gasping for breath, I clung to the rocky ledge, grateful for the help of the mer.

“You really need to stop going into deep waters. You could've drowned again,” the mer chided, his voice echoing in my mind.

Still catching my breath, I managed a crooked smile in response to the mer. “Well, excuse me for enjoying the thrill of the deep,” I quipped. The merman's stern expression softened into an amused smirk at my retort.

“You know, for a merman, you look kinda hot with that glowing tail of yours,” I added.

To my surprise, the mer's scales took on a subtle blush, an unexpected and endearing reaction. I couldn't help but find it cute, I could feel my mischievous grin widening.

The merman tsked. “Flirting with someone you don't even know,” he shooked his head in mock disapproval.

Undeterred, I extended a hand, the beginnings of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Name's Jay,” I declared. “Pirate, Captain of Destiny's Bounty, and occasional risk-taker.”

The merman regarded me with a curious glint in his eyes, the sea around him seeming to shimmer with newfound possibilities. “Nicolas or Cole, in short,” he replied, a hint of mystery in his tone. “Merman, Finder of the Lost, and apparently the savior of reckless pirate captains.”

✯✯✯

Third Person's POV

In the days that followed, Jay and Cole's unlikely friendship blossomed into a deep connection.

Mystake observed their growing bond with a knowing smile, recognizing a connection that transcended the surface.

One lazy afternoon, as they lounged near the entrance of a hidden grotto, Jay absentmindedly stroked the scales of Cole's tail.

The touch, gentle and comforting, seemed to resonate with the mer in ways Jay couldn't fully comprehend. Cole, who had spent years just in the sea and reefs, found unexpected solace in the pirate's companionship.

As their conversation meandered through the currents of their lives, Cole revealed a surprising truth. “I was the one who brought you to Mystake to heal,” he confessed, his gaze meeting Jay's with a hint of vulnerability. “I couldn't let you drown, not after seeing you risk your life for the thrill of the ocean.”

Jay, both touched and intrigued, grinned mischievously. “Well, well, the mysterious guardian of the deep has a soft spot for reckless pirates, huh?”

Cole chuckled, a warmth in his eyes that mirrored the ocean currents. “Maybe I just have a soft spot for you.”

Jay, never one to miss an opportunity for flirtation, couldn't resist teasing Cole. “You know, I've heard mers singing about soulmates in the moonlight. Think there's any truth to that?” he said with a wink.

“I believe you meant sirens,” Cole smiled at him. “But I do sing…”

“Can I hear you sing?”

“Fine.”

✯✯✯

Weeks later,

Jay, usually brimming with energy and mischievous grins, seemed unusually gloomy and distant.

Noticing the change in Jay's demeanor, Cole sat on the space beside Jay. “Hey, what's on your mind?” he asked.

Jay sighed, the weight of longing evident in his expression. “It's just… I miss them, you know? My friends. Nya, Kai, Lloyd, Zane, PIXAL, Skylor... even Wu.”

“Do you mind telling me about them?”

And so, Jay began to paint vivid portraits of his crew, his words laced with the salty tang of the sea and the spirit of adventure. “Nya, she's my right hand, fierce and loyal as they come. A true First Mate, she's got a keen eye for spotting trouble and a knack for navigating the treacherous waters we sail.”

“Kai,” Jay continued. “He's the fiery soul of our crew, skilled with a hammer and nails as our Carpenter. His passion fuels our ship, and his quick wit keeps our spirits high even in the face of adversity.”

“Lloyd, he's the youngest of us all, our Cabin boy. But don't let his youth fool you; he's got a heart as brave as any seasoned sailor, eager to prove himself on the high seas.”

“Zane, our Helmsman, is as cool and steady as the ocean itself. With his steady hand at the wheel, we navigate through storms and tempests with ease, trusting in his unwavering skill.”

“PIXAL,” Jay continued. “Our Navigator, is a marvel of technology. With her knowledge of the stars and the currents, she guides us to our destination with precision and grace.”

“And Skylor,” Jay added with a grin. “Our Boatswain, keeps our ship in top shape and our crew in line. She's as tough as she is resourceful, and I wouldn't trade her for all the doubloons in the world.”

A soft smile played on Jay's lips as he continued, “And then there's Wu, our wise and cryptic ex-captain. He was the one who brought us together, guiding us through countless adventures.”

As Jay spoke, Cole listened, his heart opening to the echoes of friendships forged on land. He could almost feel the camaraderie that Jay cherished so deeply.

“They're my family,” Jay admitted, his gaze distant. “And now, I'm stuck here, miles away from them.”

Cole placed a reassuring hand on Jay's shoulder, offering silent understanding. “You're not alone, Jay. We're here, and you've got a new family here.”

The words brought a flicker of gratitude to Jay's eyes, a blend of sorrow and appreciation. “Thanks, Cole,” he said, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “It's just… sometimes I wish I could see them again, share a laugh or embark on another adventure.”

As the memories of his crew lingered in the salty air, Jay shifted the conversation, eager to divert his thoughts to something new. “Hey, Cole,” he began, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I've been meaning to ask, what kind of fish is your tail alike to? I've sailed these waters for years, but I've never seen a creature with such a vibrant pattern before.”

Cole's gaze brightened at Jay's question, a smile playing on his lips. “Ah, my tail is based on a Carpenter's Flasher Wrasse,” he explained, his voice tinged with excitement. “They're native to the tropical reefs, known for their stunning colors and mesmerizing displays during mating season.”

“It's stunning,” Jay marveled, admiring the intricate details of Cole's tail. “I can see why you caught my eye from the moment I saw you.”

As they floated in the gentle currents, Jay couldn't help but ponder aloud, “If I were a mer, what type do you think I'd be?”

Cole thought for a moment. “Perhaps a barracuda mer, since you're quite quick,” he suggested. “Or maybe something more dynamic, like a stingray, or something along those lines.”

Jay grinned at the thought, the idea of a tail as swift and versatile as a barracuda or a stingray igniting his imagination. “I like the sound of those,” he said, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “Who knows, maybe one day I'll get to try it out for real.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

❈❈❈

The fish Cole's tail is based on.

#bruiseexchange2024 #ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #jay gordon #ninjago mystake #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #ninjago au #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fanfic #bruiseshipping #queerplatonic bruiseshipping #ninjago bruise #cole x jay #jay x cole #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad

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thedragonbloody · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER 5

Rhaella

The steep cliffs rose majestically, defying the horizon, and Rhaella, with her bow and arrows in hand, enjoyed the view.

The salty breeze caressed the princess's hair as she stood on the highest cliff, her piercing gaze fixed on the target ahead. The ebony bow sparkled with the promise of exceptional skill, a precious gift.

Focusing, the string was extended until the bow reached its perfect span. In the same gesture, her arms lowered it, maintaining its position. The arrow was almost at eye level. She was getting used to the sting of her fingers and the force she had to apply to the string. She wasn't thinking, and could barely notice time passing. She perceived her surroundings through her mind, with the almost perfect focus in which she united her will and her strength, and turned the aim into reality. Her fingers moved and the rope was released. The energy accumulated in that stance was released all at once, propelling the arrow that cut through the air in a graceful arc before hitting the centre of the target with precision. A subtle smile curved her lips as she prepared for another attempt — she seemed to have got the hang of it.

However, the momentary joy was broken by the distant sound of bells announcing morning, bringing the princess to the sudden realisation that she had exceeded the time.

The distant sound of the bells echoed across the Narrow Sea, marking the transition from dawn to morning. Each chime reverberated like an uncompromising reminder of the time that, like the bells, waited for no-one. A metallic symphony, a ritualistic echo that carried through the halls of the fortress, calling subjects and nobles to their daily duties. However, for Rhaella, on that hillside, the bells were a warning that her moment of tranquillity had to come to an end — she was late.

The princess slung her bow over her shoulder and prepared to descend the cliffside. She had to get back quickly before the seventh toll.

The hem of her gown trailed across the rocks, and her nimble feet, with calculated steps, found support on the steep ledges embracing the Red Keep. She moved with a peculiar grace, her long silver-white hair flowing in the wind like a royal standard.

The mesmerizing sight of the Narrow Sea stretching below captivated her momentarily, allowing the princess to forget the duties awaiting atop the castle. However, during this little act of distraction, the once firm stones beneath her feet began to show their treacherous nature and an unexpected slip altered the course of her descent.

The princess's breath caught, her heart leapt - but her countenance remained determined. With swift and precise movements, instinct guided her to find a foothold, enabling her to resume her descent and cling to a ledge before the fall could be consummated.

Her knees and palms grated against the rough stones, but each injury was accepted as a kind of tribute for her fleeting freedom.

As the princess neared the slope's base, a stone above her slid, striking her forehead directly. The impact with the ground was abrupt, a cut opening on her forehead, staining her face with blood. Rhaella rose disheveled, shaking off the dust from her dress in an attempt to mitigate the grime.

She ran her fingers over the corner of her forehead, noticing blood trickling and a sharp pain emerging immediately.

— If mommy sees this, I'll be in deep trouble...— groaned the princess in concern.

Swiftly, she opened a small pouch, extracting a cloth usually reserved for herbs hidden for her sister. Then she remembered that she still needed to get the catnip herbs that Vhaelys had asked for earlier. The princess sprinted towards the sea as fast as she could, dampening the cloth with saltwater and wringing it out. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, pressing the cloth against the wound as forcefully as she could.

The burning, although painful, was not the cause of her despair. She needed to return promptly because breakfast with the family awaited, and only the Seven knew that Queen Alicent wouldn't allow her to see the light of day if she appeared in such a state in front of the court guests.

She rinsed the cloth in the water and wiped her stained face, then ran back to the secret passage while pressing the cloth over the cut.

In a hidden corner above the rocks at the entrance to the passage, she spotted the plant her sister had wanted. The herb grew solitary on the cliffside, and small grasses could be seen growing slowly around it.

She removed the blood-covered cloth and wrapped the herb to prevent it from crumbling inside the bag.

And hoped the bleeding wouldn't start again.

Jacaerys

Meanwhile, Jacaerys, the first-born, stood before the looking glass, fine-tuning his elaborately embroidered garments. His expression reflected a mixture of expectation and responsibility. The impending arrival of his birthday carried an anticipation that harmonized with the vastness of the sky beyond the castle walls.

The week of celebration loomed, and, of greater import, the first flight that the prince would undertake astride his dragon in the public eye. Although not yet fully grown, Vermax had already grown enough to take the young prince to the skies.

Jacaerys was robust and somewhat tall for his years, took longer than his sisters to fly his dragon. Vermax, despite having hatched first among the brothers' dragons, was still not big enough to carry the prince to great heights.

Princesses Vhaelys and Rhaella, who took to the skies with their dragons when one was seven and the other six, flew together and some say that at that moment the bond between the two sisters became unbreakable.

Jacaerys was adjusting the embroidered garment for the fifth time, even though the maid had already done so. His brown eyes reflected his obvious anxiety in front of the mirror.

Today he had to receive the guests for the celebration with his mother and Queen Alicent, he had to behave.

His thoughts were swept away to some corner of his mind when the doors to his chambers opened and his mother entered accompanied by his dear sister Vhaelys.

Princess Rhaenyra approached with an affectionate smile.

— Good morning, dear — she stroked the boy's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. — Are you ready?

Prince Jacaerys smiled nervously.

— Sort of... — he looked at his mother. — It's going to be okay, right?

Princess Rhaenyra stroked the boy's face, she was very proud of her son, and always appreciated his commitment to his duties — even when he was anxious, like today. A fond smile appeared on her lips.

— Of course you will, Jace. I'll be right by your side, there's nothing to be afraid of. You'll do fine, I'm sure.

— Just say hello to some nobles who are arriving, brother — Vhaelys smiled. — Why are you so nervous? We've already done this several times.

Jaecarys rolled her eyes and grimaced at her sister, her snub nose wrinkling.

— It's different this time, Lys.

— You're the crown prince, Jace — now it was Vhaelys' turn to roll her eyes. — The lords should be anxious, not you. Right, mama?

Princess Rhaenyra watched her children exchange grimaces and laughed.

— All right, that's enough for both of you — she stroked her belly. — The day of your brother's first flight is coming up, don't upset him so much, darling. Come on, Jace. I'll fix your hair, I still need to see Luke.

— Where's Rhae? — asked the prince as his mother reached for the brush on the dressing table. — Don't tell me she's run off with some horse this time... — he whispered to his sister.

Princess Vhaelys sighed.

— No, she went to the cliffs. She must have practised with her bow again — Vhaelys sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her brother. — Don't even think about making that face, even you wouldn't stop her. Unless you want to get another finger bitten off.

Jacaerys laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

— What are you both laughing at? — Princess Rhaenyra approached and began brushing her son's hair.

Vhaelys looked at her mother and brother and laughed again.

— Remember when Jace told you that Rhae had sneaked out to play in the kennels?

— How could I forget... — Rhaenyra laughed. — She was five, I still don't know how she managed to get out.

— When Mum brought her back to her room, the first thing she did was try to pull my hair - Jacaerys smiled. - She couldn't even reach.

— That's true, — the mother smiled nostalgically. — Didn't she end up biting your fingers instead?

— Yes! - the children replied in unison.

Rhaenyra laughed without holding back and so did her children.

— I remember trying to get her mouth off your fingers — she wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. — Jace, you thought she'd ripped your finger off.

— She bit me like a dog! — Jace defended himself.

— You haven't stopped crying, Jace! — accused Vhaelys and laughed again. — Remember, mama? You needed Ser Harwin to hold her down so you could look at Jace's fingers.

— And you, Lys? — accused the prince — You just watched!

— Well, you split on her — she shrugged, smiling.

Rhaenyra stroked her son's head as she watched the two of them argue.

The crown princess saw the loyalty between her children as a sacred bond, a pillar that transcended the intricate webs of politics, which more often than not separated rather than united. For her, her children were not just heirs to a legacy, but fundamental pillars for each other.

The relationship between her children was a source of pride and comfort for her. Every gesture of loyalty between them was like a tribute to the lineage of the three dragons — a testament to the blood that flowed through their veins.

However, there was a peculiar aspect to her sons' loyalty that Princess Rhaenyra noted with amusement. Their ability to hide Rhaella's escapes, even when the matriarch already knew the truth, was a sign of the complicity that permeated the family.

She saw this act of secrecy as an expression of love and protection.

— She cried and apologised for about three days - Jacaerys sighed. — Now I understand, why dad can't fight with her...

— Your father can't argue with any of you... — claimed the princess. — Speaking of him, has he turned up here yet?

Ser Laenor Velaryon, despite his commanding presence when wielding a sword, was known for his compassionate and affable nature, a trait that often made it difficult for him to take a firm hand with his children.

His reluctance to adopt a more authoritarian stance could result in moments of indecision, especially when faced with situations that called for more assertive leadership.

Even so, Ser Laenor's compassion left an indelible mark on his childrens' hearts.

Prince Jacaerys nodded.

— I haven't seen him this morning, maybe he went to see Luke first.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ser Harwin Strong, Princess Rhaenyra's loyal knight, entered with the silent grace characteristic of guardians. His polished armour shone in the dawn light and his golden cloak stood out on his shoulder.

His build was a mixture of strength and robustness. With a stature that defied common standards, Ser Harwin was said to stand like a tower, indestructible, his broad, muscular shoulders conveying a sense of undeniable power. His massive, muscular body was a representation of his unrivalled strength, and his imposing aura could eclipse even the giants of the North.

His face was adorned with a sparse beard that signalled the virility of his actions, a map of lived experience. Deep lines skirted his eyes, silent witnesses to battles fought. A pair of brown eyes that have witnessed the best and worst of the court. The fierce glint of these irises, sculpted by life, seemed to reflect a wisdom moulded by the intrigues and loyalties that permeate the corridors of power.

His steps were firm, echoing a determination that resonated in the halls and battlefields, a presence that undoubtedly left a mark wherever he went. This was Ser Harwin Strong, known as Breakbones.

The knight bowed his head in deference and spoke.

— Good morning, Prince Jacaerys and Princess Vhaelys — he resumed his resolute posture. — Princess Rhaenyra, the preparations for breakfast are almost ready. I think you only have a few minutes before you meet the king and queen.

The prince and princess said good morning in unison - this happened quite often. The commander's presence, although marked by imposing physical strength, was also wrapped in a human warmth that won the hearts of Princess Rhaenyra's children.

There are those who say that the relationship between Ser Harwin and the princess's children was shaped by a genuine affection. Septon Eustace, in some of his writings, says that Breakbones was not only the knight who protected them, but a confidant, a mentor and, above all, a friend.

The children's admiration for Ser Harwin went beyond his skill with the sword and his impeccable armour. It was the honesty of his advices, his patience with their endless questions and his warm smile that won their hearts.

Princess Rhaenyra smiled and nodded to the knight.

— Thank you, Commander - she turned to her children and said. — I need to see your brother before we go to breakfast. Why don't you go and meet your uncles? I'll see you soon. — And she kissed each of them on the forehead.

They both agreed.

The princess headed for the door and left her son's chambers just as the door behind her closed. She sighed wearily.

Ser Harwin

There was a subtle exchange of glances, laden with promises and shared memories.

— The princess should rest — suggested Ser Harwin with his polished tone and deep timbre. — The end of the pregnancy is near.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, living up to the Valyrian lineage, embodied the majesty and beauty of her house in every feature. Her hair was a cascade of liquid silver-gold, gracefully falling over her shoulders with a sheen that captured every gaze.

Her violet eyes were like incandescent stars, piercing and full of boldness, a boldness that persisted even after giving birth to Prince Jacaerys. Her expression, often marked by determination, could instantly soften when she looked at her children.

For them, her gaze took on an unparalleled tenderness. The princess's rigid posture dissolved in front of her children, revealing a woman who not only led with firmness but also harbored a maternal devotion. Her womb, a silent witness to the future of the House of the Dragon, was wrapped in luxurious robes that emphasised both her majesty and the promise of new life.

While maintaining the demeanor of a future queen, Rhaenyra carried with her a touch of softness that only motherhood could bestow. But just like everything in life, there was a price to be paid for the joy her children brought her.

The fatigue of motherhood was not only physical but also emotional, a journey that demanded not just physical strength but a resilience that transcended the limits of the body. The constant presence of the princess in the roles of mother and future queen added an extra weight to her shoulders.

Despite the weariness of potentially giving birth to her son at any moment, she remained unyielding.

—There are many things to do, Commander - her hands rested lovingly on her belly as she walked — And rest is not one of them. It seems to me that Rhaella has gone beyond the walls again... — whispered the princess.

Ser Harwin smiled.

— She went to practice with the bow — he informed. — Woke up early and passed through the kitchen, as usual. I still haven't figured out where she exits…

The princess chuckled.

— If even you haven't figured it out, then she's cleverer than I imagined… — she paused for a moment and looked through the window in the hallway. — There are guests to be received, and in the coming days, there will be more. Find her before her absence is noticed by others…

Her eyes, deep and intense, carried a veiled meaning that only they shared. There was a silent complicity, a mutual understanding that extended beyond the formalities of the court.

— As you wish, princess — his voice resonated with devotion, and with a bow, he left.

His bond with Princess Rhaenyra went beyond the duties of a simple protector; there was a deeper connection there, a bond that only the most attentive of hearts could understand.

The flame of this feeling, fuelled by intrigue and impossibility, burned brightly, illuminating the darkest corners of his being. His eyes, often hidden under impenetrable armour, reflected the duality of his position as protector and lover.

Every touch, every glance exchanged between the two was an act of rebellion against established norms, weaving a complex web of emotions that intertwined with their intertwined destinies.

However, this love, although deep, was interwoven with the fragile threads of discretion. Aware of the shadows that hung over them, Ser Harwin and Princess Rhaenyra kept their relationship away from the judgemental eyes of the court. It was a dangerous game, but for Harwin, every moment shared with Rhaenyra and her children was worth the risk.

Harwin's heart swelled even more when it came to the children. For him, each child was a reflection of the love they shared, and he welcomed them with tenderness and dedication. Each child's laughter was a symphony that echoed in his chest, each innocent gesture a reminder of the life they had built together.

Rhaella

Cavernous silence enveloped the stone walls of the secret passage as Princess Rhaella Velaryon emerged into the dimness of the basement below the kitchen. The vaulted stone ceiling cast dancing shadows over her as she made her way through hidden corridors that connected to the darkest and most secret corners of the castle.

The dim glow of the little light that managed to enter the depths of the place revealed stones worn by time, and the distant whisper of the sea echoed loudly. The path, an intricate labyrinth hidden beneath the foundations of the Red Keep, was known to few.

As the princess continued, a veiled tension weighed on her shoulders, reflected in the haste of her steps and the agitation in her eyes. The soft sound of her breathing echoed in the underground chambers as she neared her final destination: a discreet corridor in Maegor's Holdfast, close to the bedrooms.

Maegor's Holdfast was a castle that stood like an imposing sentinel in the heart of the Red Keep. With a square structure and thick walls, it was known for being impenetrable — which wasn't quite true. King Maegor had ordered the construction of some secret passages — few, but very well hidden. However, two of them had already been discovered by Rhaella and her alone.

Nevertheless, on the winding path between the shadows, fate had an unexpected encountee. As Rhaella pushed the small stone wall behind an ornamental cabinet in the castle corridor, stealthily emerging from behind the furniture to turn the corner with her quick steps — the impact was inevitable.

Ser Laenor Velaryon, her father, emerged in front of her. The encounter was like the clash of two powerful chains, a collision that reverberated through the empty corridors. The princess, for a moment, unbalanced, the force of the encounter dispelling her haste, and her eyes showed a spark of surprise.

At the same time, Ser Laenor was also taken aback. The momentary expression of shock on his face soon gave way to a mixture of concern and paternal recognition.

— Rhaella! — he grasped his daughter's shoulders. — What happened?

— Papa! — the princess spoke in surprise. — What are you doing here?

Ser Laenor quickly looked around to make sure no one was nearby, then he put his fingers to his lips to indicate silence.

— We need to keep it down — he whispered. — Are you okay?

A mischievous smile appeared on the girl's lips.

— You're hiding too! — she accused. — Left the castle without mommy knowing again and you're late.

Ser Laenor laughed.

— Guilty — he crossed his arms. — Let me guess, you sneaked out again to the cliff, and lost track of time.

She raised her hands in surrender.

— Guilty.

The man bent down to her height, lifting her bangs. With the rough hands of a swordsman, he examined the wound on Rhaella's forehead, concerned not only about the visible injury but also about what could have led to such a state.

— If your mother sees this, she'll kill both of us — he remarked. — How did this happen?

The princess, with a hint of weakness, tried to smile to reassure him, but the urgency was evident in her gaze. She shook her head, indicating that it wasn't the time for explanations.

— Papa, forget about it. Come on, quickly — she pulled him by the hand. — I need your help; Ser Harwin must be after me. And if he finds me, we'll both get a scolding from mommy.

Understanding the situation, Ser Laenor acted swiftly — he picked up the girl in his arms and headed toward the princess's chamber.

The pair continued through the silent corridors, father and daughter, sharing a secret.

Vhaelys

— These birds are watching us — Vhaelys said as she walked in the company of her brother in the lower courtyard.

— Really? — Jacaerys restrained a laugh. — Are you... how do they say it? — with her arm wrapped around his, he made them both stop walking and whispered. — Ah yes, paranoid. Or maybe our little sister filled your head with old legends last night.

Vhaelys smiled and squeezed her brother's arm as a warning sign — he shouldn't laugh at her.

— Maybe both things — the princess's dress hem rustled as she grabbed it and pulled her brother along to keep walking. — But I'm sure that raven on the top of the wall scrutinized all our movements.

Jacaerys laughed and exchanged a playful glance with his sister.

— They must be curious about the approaching celebration — a voice came from behind them. — Even the birds wish to see Jace's first flight.

— Daeron! — Jacaerys smiled upon seeing the boy.

Daeron Targaryen's golden hair cascaded in soft waves, capturing the sunlight like threads of liquid gold. His beauty was remarkable, but it was the warm and friendly expression on his face that truly highlighted his presence. The amethyst-cut eyes reflected subtle intelligence and the kindness that defined his reputation, emanating a serene light that calms and attracts.

Even at such a young age, the refined and graceful posture he held revealed a confidence that was not imposed but innate.

The prince wore a finely crafted fabric tunic, adorned with delicate details that indicated not only his royal position but also his refined taste. The chosen colors seemed to complement the softness of his smile, while the embroidered symbols revealed to which house he belonged.

— Good morning, Jace... — he greeted the prince with a smile and then bowed to his niece. — Good morning, Lys.

— Good morning, Daeron — the princess replied, trying to hide the smile that threatened to appear on her lips. — Has Helaena left for the hall?

— I can't tell you — the young prince looked back at the tower behind him. — I haven't seen any of my siblings this morning. But I believe she should arrive with my mother.

— I see... — she sighed dejectedly. — I hoped to meet her on the way.

— Daeron, are you going to practice in the Dragonpit today? — Jacaearys asked.

The prince turned his gaze away from his niece.

— I intend to — he smiled. — After we receive the guests with my mother, I can ask Ser Criston to take us there.

— That would be great! — Jacaerys replied excitedly. — Aegon said he'd give me some tips, but he didn't show up yesterday...

— Aegon... Well, how to put it... — Daeron sighed. — He's Aegon.

Jacaerys laughed.

— Did he get into trouble again?

— The question would be when is he not in trouble? — Daeron murmured. — Aegon and mother are not on good terms, so don't be surprised if his mood is unpleasant. You know...

— But is he okay?

— I don't know, you know how he is...

— I think we should head to the hall before they miss us — the princess warned. — I'd hate to receive a reprimand.

The princes agreed in silence and headed towards their destination.

Ser Laenor

The tranquil atmosphere of the room was disrupted by the entrance of Ser Laenor, who accompanied Rhaella to the edge of the bed. Carefully, he positioned his daughter in a seated position, focusing his attention on the cut on her forehead.

— Let's take care of this, my dear — he said. Stepping away, he began searching for something around the room. — We don't want a scar.

— A scar? — the girl exclaimed, startled. — It wasn't that deep, papa. Look, it's already stopped bleeding.

Laenor chuckled from the other side of the room.

— Papa, maybe you should check the false bottom in the dressing table drawer. Lys keeps a wooden box with ointments for these situations.

Laenor, curious and grateful for the discovery, retrieved the box and found a treasure trove of medicinal solutions prepared by his eldest daughter.

— You and your sister always surprise me, — he said, taking the box out of the drawer. — How many times have you been injured?

— Just a few scratches here and there — the girl said, swinging her feet absentmindedly. — Lys is very good at taking care of them.

— Has your sister been sneaking things out of the meisters' room? Where did she get all this?

Opening the box, the man found an enchanting array of small vials carefully organised. The scent of herbs enveloped the room.

He identified jars containing wine and vinegar, each playing a unique role in the preparation of treatments. The wine, known for its antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties, demonstrated Vhaelys' attention to detail. Vinegar, meanwhile, could be used to clean and disinfect wounds.

Small dried leaves from various medicinal plants were carefully arranged in separate compartments. Vhaelys, with her expertise, had selected each herb with specific properties, creating a versatile collection for different needs.

Alongside the leaves, Laenor found homemade ointments made from a mixture of natural ingredients. These ointments, duly labelled by the princess, promised relief for her sister's injuries.

— Well... — she laughed. — We both made them, but I brought some of the leaves. But it's a secret, papa. Don't tell anyone, okay? Lys will be angry if she finds out I let you take this.

The man laughed, but his heart swelled with love.

— I promise I won't tell - he held out his finger to the girl. — A knight's word.

The girl wrapped her finger around his and smiled.

— A knight's word.

He approached his daughter's face and brushed away the small strands of hair that had fallen out. He gently took the clean cloth he had found and moistened it in vinegar, and began to gently wipe the cut on Rhaella's forehead. The sensation of the cool liquid contrasted with the temperature of her skin, but the man tried to carry out the procedure gently, ensuring that the cleaning was effective without causing any further discomfort to his daughter.

— It looks more superficial than I thought. You'll be fine.

As he worked, the soft light in the room emphasised Laenor's calm expression, contrasting with Rhaella's anxiety. The vinegar, with its antiseptic properties, played its part in purifying the wound.

— Your sister really cares about you. — Dad smiled. — But you should be more careful, little one. Try not to get yourself and your sister into trouble, okay?

Princess Rhaella agreed sadly.

― I know. I'm sorry, papa.

― It's okay — he applied ointment to the wound. ― Looks like we're done. Are there any more injuries that need attention?

The girl smiled mischievously and lifted the skirt of her dress to show scratched knees, then turned her palms to her father.

― Maybe a few more...

Ser Laenor sighed.

�� Will you tell me how you got all of this? — he said, focused on cleaning the scratches.

― I slipped on the cliff... — when she noticed her father stopped what he was doing and looked at her worried, she quickly added, ― Nothing too dangerous. Just like you said, I didn't go that high this time.

― I would hardly classify slipping on the cliff as nothing too dangerous, Rhae — he raised his eyebrows.

The girl smiled.

― Oh, papa, I promise it wasn't really dangerous.

The father returned his attention to the other knee.

― Rhaella, I didn't give you a bow as a gift to put yourself in danger like this — once he finished cleaning the wound, he focused on applying the ointment. ―If your mother found you the way I found you, you would have given her a damn heart attack. Or worse, what if the queen found you like this?

The girl's expression changed.

― I know. I'm sorry... — she sighed disappointedly. ― I meant to come back earlier, really. But I got distracted, and by the time I noticed, the bell was already ringing... And I ended up slipping when I tried to come faster. I'll be more careful.

― Okay, as long as you know that, it's enough — he took one of the girl's hands and applied vinegar. ―We don't want to bring trouble to your mother.

When Sor Laenor finished tending to all the scratches on his daughter, they both realized they needed to hurry to breakfast as soon as possible.

― I'll call Eileen; you need to get ready — he turned to the door, but was stopped by the girl's hands.

― No, we can't call Eileen — the girl ran to another corner of the room where the dresses were. ― We don't have time; the seventh bell rang a while ago. You'll have to help me, papa.

― Rhaella, you need to wash up ― he looked at the girl's face and hair still matted with dried blood. ―There's no way you can get to the hall in this state.

The room shared by Princess Rhaella and her sister was a sanctuary of elegance and comfort. The sturdy, finely adorned stone walls gave the space an aura of royalty. The duality of personalities was reflected in the meticulously chosen decoration.

The high ceiling extended over a majestic canopy bed, intricately carved, with silk curtains flowing gracefully. Fine linens and meticulously embroidered pillows provided a touch of refinement.

Luxurious rugs, woven with intricate patterns, covered the cold floor, providing a welcoming atmosphere. A fireplace carved with dragon details offered warmth and soft lighting. In addition, two leather armchairs, one on each side of the room, provided comfortable places for reflection.

Small details revealed the distinct personalities of the sisters. Shelves housed favorite books and personal items, reflecting each one's unique interests. The gentle scent of scented candles permeated the room, creating a cozy atmosphere.

In the corner, separated by a long wooden screen, there was a bronze bathtub adorned with flower paintings. And around it, soft fabrics and robes hung, ready to envelop the sisters in comfort after a rejuvenating bath.

Laenor's eyes wandered around the room and settled on a bucket next to the bathtub. He approached, picked up the small container nearby, and dipped it into the bucket.

It was water.

― Rhaella, was this water from yesterday's bath?

― Oh, yes! Lys didn't use all the water they brought ― she said without taking her eyes off the dresses, and for a moment she seemed to have an awakening. ―Papa! That's it! You're a genius; we can use this water to clean me up!

Sor Laenor laughed.

― Well, that's what I was thinking ― he rolled up his sleeves. ― We need to be quick, come on!

― I still haven't found the dress! ― frustrated, she huffed.

― Come and clean up, and I'll look for it, okay? ― Laenor approached his daughter. ―Which one is the dress?

― It's the black and blue one, you know? The one grandpa Corlys gave me.

― All right, ― he smiled. ― I'll look for it; now, go clean up quickly.

She agreed.

The dark wooden cupboards were full of exquisite costumes, but Ser Laenor, aware of his daughter's tastes, searched meticulously through the garments. With a masterful touch, his skilful hands found the desired fabric, and he removed the dress with a triumphant gesture.

― Here you are, darling. This is the one you were looking for, isn't it? ― Ser Laenor asked, presenting the black and blue dress, adorned with delicate details.

― Yes, Papa, this is it. Thank you.

Ser Laenor arched an eyebrow and asked.

― Haven't you started cleaning up yet?

The girl pouted and whispered.

― The water's too cold...

Ser Laenor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

― Anyone who's late has no right to complain about the water, Rhaella ― he laughed, putting his dress on the screen. ― Come on, I'll help you. We need to be quick.

The bucket, sturdy and polished, rested in skilful hands as Ser Laenor lifted it to pour the water into the tub. Clear, sparkling drops fell from the container with a soft sound, echoing in the calm atmosphere of the room.

The water, now released, created delicate ripples on the surface of the bronze tub. It was as if tiny liquid diamonds were dancing in the light, capturing and reflecting the golden hues that permeated the room.

Rhaella, waiting with anticipation, finally stepped into the tub after it had been filled. The clear liquid enveloped the princess in its cold embrace, causing a wave of goose bumps.

Ser Laenor, attentive to his daughter's expression, skilfully completed the task, allowing the water to reach the desired level. He placed the bucket on the floor and leaned close to the table to pick up the soap, handing it to his daughter.

Rhaella took the vegetable oil soap, with its enveloping fragrance of calendula and rosemary, and began to apply it to her skin. The soft texture of the soap glided delicately over her body, leaving behind a trail of perfumed foam. The enveloping fragrance of calendula and rosemary wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere of freshness and relaxation.

Rhaella's movements were cadenced and gentle, as she dedicated herself to cleansing every centimetre of her skin. She spread the soap on her hands while trying to remove the dirt from her nails.

Ser Laenor, realising the need for more specific care, picked up the washcloth from the table and began to gently scrub Rhaella's back. The vegetable fibres, impregnated with foam from the oil soap, glided delicately over the princess's skin, gently removing any trace of dirt or impurity.

With skilful and attentive gestures, Ser Laenor concentrated on the areas most prone to the accumulation of impurities, such as the nails and the hardest-to-reach parts of the back. The loofah, in his hands, became an instrument of care, an extension of paternal affection as he ensured that his daughter was completely clean.

The soft sound of the loofah gliding across her skin blended with the murmur of the water in the bath. Dedicated to his task, Ser Laenor picked up the small container, dipped it into the water to collect a little and carefully poured it over Rhaella's head. The water, now charged with the essence of soap, ran down the princess's hair, carrying with it any trace of her adventures.

At the feel of the cold water, the princess let out a pained moan and another wave of goosebumps ran down her back.

— Papa! — she exclaimed, as she tried to remove the strands of hair now stuck to her face.

— We're almost done, don't be such a whiner.

He gently massaged his daughter's scalp, his skilful fingers working to wipe away the trace of blood that persisted. The foam turned into a fragrant cascade, enveloping the strands of Rhaella's hair.

And in that serene silence, Ser Laenor not only washed his daughter's hair, but also wove an intangible tapestry of affectionate memories. Each touch resonated in a connection that transcended time and the ages.

Daeron

The Small Hall, a majestic enclosure within the Red Keep, unfolded in grandeur under a high, vaulted ceiling. The room, designed to hold up to two hundred people, boasted a refined grandstand that ran the length of the room, offering a splendid view to all who had the privilege of taking their seats

Carefully arranged tables adorned the space, offering an elegant and functional setting for important meetings and events. The imposing, richly carved wooden doors guarded the entrance, inviting those present to walk through the ornate entrance.

The choice of location had been prompted by the preparation of the Great Hall for the Princes' Name Day. However, unlike the vastness of the Great Hall, the Small Hall had a more intimate atmosphere, with its tapestry-covered walls and polished floor.

— It looks like we're just in time — said Jacaerys. — We're the first.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting golden reflections on the meticulously prepared tables. Arranged in symmetrical rows, they boasted embroidered linen tablecloths and a collection of fine plates and silver cutlery. Arrangements of fresh flowers, picked from the gardens of the Red Fortress, adorned the centre of each table, spreading a soft fragrance throughout the room.

— Mummy must be on her way... — the princess murmured. — Let's sit down and wait.

The enticing aroma of freshly prepared food enveloped the small room, creating a combination of smells that aroused the senses. Small portions of freshly baked biscuits, with a golden crust that seemed to crumble at the slightest pressure, were displayed on an engraved silver tray.

The servants moved gracefully, serving the delicacies with attention. Their silent but hurried footsteps added to the atmosphere of the hall, while silver plates and utensils tinkled softly under their skilful hands.

A large brown bowl, permeated by the comforting warmth of cooked oats, was adorned with slices of fresh apple and sprinkled with a generous pinch of cinnamon. The cosy scent enveloped the Small Hall, awakening the promise of morning comfort.

Orderly rows of loaves of bread of different shapes and textures took pride of place and exuded an irresistible fragrance of fresh fermentation.

Porcelain chalices contained almond milk, with its creamy texture and smooth flavour. Silver kettles released steam while mint and nettle teas infused the room with a combination of aromas. The freshness of the mint and the herbal notes of the nettle danced in the air, creating a relaxing atmosphere.

The Knights posted at the entrances to the small hall kept a discreet watch over the place. Their watchful eyes swept the room, ensuring the safety of the Royal family.

There were moments — not many, but a few — when Prince Daeron seemed content with his family's absence. It was nothing new that when everyone was together the tension increased, and everyone's thoughts could be heard if someone looked closely.

Daeron liked little company, and each of them was well selected. He wore a thoughtful smile, but in his heart there was a loneliness that no child should hide.

Ever since the conversation with his mother about possibly being sent to Oldtown - his mind had been filled with anxiety and anguish. But as soon as he crossed the courtyard and met his nephews, calm set in.

It was true that he preferred Tessarion's company more than anyone else's, but he cherished the moments with Helaena and Vhaelys. They were attentive, and their conversations were curious and thought-provoking. Even if it was about embroidery — he would still enjoy it.

He didn't notice that he was staring intensely at the princess in front of him, his amethyst eyes gazing at her with curiosity, even though he didn't understand what she was talking about. Until he was asked.

— Daeron?

He blinked confusedly, as if he had just woken up from a deep dream.

She laughed.

— You didn't hear anything, did you? — her eyes were shrewd and teasing. — I asked if you and Jace had read The Reckoning of Time. Jace said no.

— Ah, yes... — he tried to regain his posture. — No, I mean I haven't read it. What would it be about?

— Don't push her, Daeron. She'll start rambling about time again.

Daeron smiled and arched an eyebrow.

— Well! You see… — she seemed ready to give a speech. — It is considered a grand work. It is, indeed. Archmaester Walgram delved deeply into the issue of ancient studies, where various cultures count days, seasons, and years differently. You see, I've already spoken about this. The way we perceive time is so senseless. Other people might perceive it differently! The concept of time is so… I don't even have words. Oh, it really makes me… how do you say it? Truly…

— Bothered? — Daeron suggested.

— Exactly! Bothered, that's the word.

Jacaerys began to laugh.

— Two things you shouldn't mention around Lys. The time and cats. She won't keep quiet about that...

Vhaelys rolled her eyes.

— It's just that you boys can only think about swords and fights. It's hard for you to keep up with my reasoning, Jace.

Jacaerys stared at her in confusion.

— Did you mean to say I'm less intelligent?

— Oh, I didn't say anything. You should spend less time with Aegon your head is becoming as empty as his — she turned to Daeron. — No offense.

Daeron laughed.

— I'm not offended.

— Hey! Wait a minute, I study as much as you do, Lys — accused the brother.

— Yes, of course you do. But it wasn't me who confused Evenfall Hall with Harrenhal... — she teased.

— It was one time, Lys! Just once!

— Well, there was that other time you said—

— All right! — Jace interrupted. — Very clever of you...

While laughter echoed in the room, Daeron couldn't help but wonder if he would ever have the confidence to share lighthearted moments and jokes with his own siblings.

Aegon's judgmental gaze and Aemond's more reserved demeanor seemed to form a barrier, making him a distant observer of the more intimate family dynamics. Restlessness grew within him as the dilemma of possibly having to say goodbye and leave for Oldtown cast a shadow over his heart.

Among laughter and shared memories, Daeron would realize that his journey was his alone and that, perhaps, finding his own voice within the complex family fabric would require time and patience.

— For your information, we've already learned about the Ghiscari wars, haven't we? — Jacaerys directed his question to Daeron.

— Oh, yes, Maester Gavin taught us...

— Five times did Old Ghis fight Valyria when the world was young, and five times did they lose — Jacaerys rambled. — Imagine the number of dragons in those days...

— It's said that the ancient Ghiscari Empire was the first great civilization in the known world. According to Maester Gerardys, the empire was already forming before the Long Night... — a shiver ran through the princess. — Eight thousand years ago.

— The Long Night... — Jacaerys sighed. — Rhaella loves hearing about those legends, doesn't she?

— Well, let's change the subject. I don't find it the least bit enjoyable to talk about it on a morning like this. Or any morning, actually...

— Do you believe in the legends, Lys? — Daeron asked curiously.

— It's not that I believe; I just don't think it's good to talk about...

— Has Rhae been reading about demons and giant ice spiders to you and Helaena again? — Jacaerys smiled. — Septa Noelle must love that.

Vhaelys nudged her brother as a reprimand.

— For your information, Septa Noelle hasn't complained about anything. We've all been studying very well, thank you.

— Speaking of Rhaella... — Daeron spoke up. — Where is she?

Aemond

Aemond was immersed in the pages of his book, each word an escape to a distant place. His serious and concentrated countenance revealed his curiosity for the written words, whose stories flowed through the lines like winding rivers.

In the silence of that moment, the door slowly opened, revealing the majestic figure of Queen Alicent and the graceful presence of his sister Helaena. Their gazes fell on Aemond, who didn't lift his eyes from the book.

Alicent Hightower, the queen consort, radiated elegance with every graceful movement. Her noble features were emphasised by a serene expression, indicating the presence of a queen. Her hair was tied up in an elaborate hairstyle, which gave a clear view of her expressions.

The dress, meticulously designed, hugged the queen's figure impeccably. The green colour chosen was so deep that it could be compared to the dense shade of a lush forest. Luxurious and ornate fabrics made up the outfit, giving it a quality that only a queen could boast.

Intricate details adorned the sleeves and collar of the dress, adding an intricacy that echoed belonging to House Hightower. Fine jewellery, matching the lush green, sparkled on her fingers and neck, subtly reflecting the light.

— Aemond, it's time for breakfast. Come, my son.

While the promise of a meal brought with it the anticipation of sharing the table with his family, there was a heaviness in his heart that grew by the minute. The echo of talk of dragons and flying would fill his ears, and he would have to hide his frustrations.

King Viserys, his father, would talk animatedly with Jacaerys and Daeron about the Name Day and expectations about the flight. For the Targaryens, these majestic creatures represented not only symbols of power, but also a magical connection to Valyria's heritage. However, this connection had escaped Aemond, leaving him in a state of despondency and insecurity.

He couldn't have been more despondent about breakfast.

— Aemond? — Queen Alicent called out again.

— Can't I stay away from breakfast today? — he asked, even though he already knew the answer. — Just today...

She watched Aemond with a stern expression as he reluctantly took part in breakfast. Her usually serene eyes became as sharp as razor blades at her son's attitude. The sternness on her face reflected not only maternal authority, but also the expectation that her son fulfil his duties.

— Aemond, I understand that we don't always want to follow through on our responsibilities, but the commitments of your position are undeniable - with a firm voice and obvious patience, she continued - We're close to your brother's name day celebration. There are guests, and we need to show perfection. What do you think they would say if they knew you were absent from breakfast? There are whispers in this castle, Aemond. I need you to do this, okay? Everything has to go according to plan.

Aemond opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.

— I know you don't want to hear about dragons — she sighed. — Even I'm tired of always hearing about these beasts. But one day, I told you, you'll have your own dragon. When the time is right. For now, I just need you to fulfil your duties, understand?

He agreed.

— Yes, mother. I'll do what you want.

Alicent smiled.

— I'm proud — she paused, then looked at the book her son was reading. — What are you reading?

— The Edge of the World by Maester Balder. It's a collection of tales and legends.

— And the seven-pointed star? You're reading it, right?

— Yes, I read it last night before going to sleep as you instructed.

— Ah Aemond, I'm happy. I really am - she caressed her son's face. — You'll be a great man, faith will keep you on the right path. The seven will guide you, you'll see.

The little prince's chest swelled, he could make his mother proud. His father never paid him enough attention, and without a dragon Aemond was apparently nothing in his eyes. However, in his mother's eyes he could be great and ruthless if he wanted to.

It was great to have her recognition.

— If Aegon were just a little more like you... — she rubbed her face. — May the seven help me.

— There's blood on swords... — murmured Helaena in the corner of the room. — Cracked heads... blood, blood.

Helaena was a unique girl, wrapped in a cloak of strangeness and sensitivity that sometimes seemed incoherent with the reality around her. The boy was used to her sometimes disjointed speech, which manifested an inner dialogue that remained enigmatic to those around him. Her words were like fragments of dreams escaping, creating a web of mystery around him. Aemond couldn't help but wonder about the thoughts that inhabited his sister's mind, a peculiar and confusing world that he couldn't fully understand.

The queen looked at her daughter with affection and reached up to stroke her hair. But as always, the princess shied away from the touch.

— Helaena, darling... — the queen sighed. — That's all right. I think we should go to the small hall now. Today will be intense.

— Is Aegon awake yet?

— Of course he is, I sent him to the small parlour first, so there wouldn't be any unforeseen circumstances... - she tightened the skirts of her dress. - From today onwards, the next few days must be perfect. You all need to look good.

— Do I need to welcome the guests with you?

— It won't be necessary, Daeron will do it. It's his name day, so it's only fair. Don't you have a lesson with Gavin this afternoon?

— Yes, mother. We're going over the arrival of the Andals and the Age of Valyria. It's been very productive.

— That's great. And Septon Eustace? Is he teaching you well about the faith?

— Oh yes, Septon Eustace has made us repeat often that men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow to the Seven Who Are One. That's the order.

— Septon Eustace is a wise man, he's right about that - she smiled cheerfully. — Remember, Aemond, that the laws of kings are one thing and the laws of the gods are another.

Alicent adjusted her posture and set off resolutely towards the door.

— We're wasting time. Come on, my children — as soon as the door opened, Ser Criston Cole approached and whispered something in her ear. The queen's expression changed, her eyebrows arched and a disapproving look crossed her eyes. — I wonder if that child will ever learn to behave like a real princess. But I think it's unlikely, the apple does not fall far from the tree...

Aemond didn't have to think too hard to realise who his mother was referring to.

Alicent Hightower's stern expression unleashed a storm of thoughts in Aemond's mind. His eyes, turned away from his mother's reproachful gaze, sought refuge in the memory of the moments shared with his niece.

He was used to his mother's judgements about Princess Rhaella's behaviour, especially when compared to the strict standards of the court. But for Aemond, the girl represented a breath of fresh air in the midst of expectations.

A bright spark amidst the shadows of rigidity, she epitomised freedom and authenticity for Aemond. Like an artist of the imagination, she transported him to lands of fantasy and dreams, where conventions were forgotten and the magic of the mind could flourish.

The young prince knew that, in his mother's eyes, the connection with his niece was viewed with disdain, a deviation from the paths she had set for him. However, Aemond couldn't give up the joy that the girl's presence brought, and every laugh shared became a rare treasure that he secretly treasured.

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cyten0 · 1 month ago

Text

A Symphony in Crimson

Act 2: A Movement in White

Chapter 1-A

When brought to light, the monster's pain

Is clarified and can bring shame

Yet bit by bit, their pain is cleansed

But will aught be left, in the end?

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

You awaken in the clocktower. Your nightmares were tame this time…

…You aren’t that hungry. Why, again? Think…

▲ “Morning Sif.”

Oh. Isa’s here… You just noticed you’re holding them. Oh! You let go.

▲ “You’re all good Sif! Feeling better?”

Better… Right. You… You got out of the timeloop yesterday…

✦ “Y-yeah. Better.”

▲ “Good! Others are already up, we better join them! Don’t wanna miss breakfast.”

...Right. You imagine they have a bunch of questions. You… Didn’t talk much yesterday, after… all that. Just… wanted to rest…

You head downstairs, and see a bunch of groggy faces.

◆ “Morning Siffrin. Grab some food, Bonniface made extra so grab plenty.”

You nod, and grab a plate. You might be mostly okay, but you still grab extra. Could always eat more.

◉ “Please tell us at least ONE of us slept well?”

✦ “oh. uh. I guess you all didn’t?”

◆ “Nightmares all around, I’m afraid. Not a surprise, but breakfast certainly helps.”

✿ “Yeah! Chocolate chip waffles make anything better!”

◉ “Agreed, Thank you Bonnie.”

Oh, pun time!

✦ “Yeah. Thank you for… Chipping in.”

▲ “HA!! HAHA!!”

Bonnie and Odile groan, while Mira holds back a light chuckle.

You sit down and get a few bites in, taking the time to actually savor the food this time. First time in a while you could. You thought you’d had enough of sweet, after all that sugar scent from wishcraft, but you think this redeems it. Bonnie’s food is too good! And the eggs and bacon on the side is VERY nice…

◆ “… While we’re here, Siffrin, I know we held off asking too much yesterday, to give you a bit of a break. But I suppose now’s a good time to start asking things. Let’s start off with something light, how exactly does your diet actually work?”

Oh. Well, you suppose that this IS the most important question.

✦ “Um. Normal food helps, but I’ll likely have to go out hunting about every week, or maybe two if I find something good. Animals for nutrients, Sadnesses for craft.”

◉ “Huh. I knew you ate sadnesses, but those are distinct?”

✦ “Kinda? I don’t recover craft very easy, so I grab sadnesses to refiill. But well. Their just saltwater? So it’s not very nutritious. Doesn’t help the body much.”

▲ “Wait you need sadnesses to recharge craft? Huh.”

✿ “Next question! How much food do I gotta make to keep up with hunting?”

Right, Bonnie won’t like this part.

✦ “Sorry, hunting's kinda important. Or at least some form of meat. I kinda can’t eat other stuff otherwise.”

✿ “Wait WHAT?! Whats that mean?!”

✦ “I kinda have to make a fake stomach to eat normal food at all. Otherwise I can only eat meat, and I’ll struggle if it’s processed too much.”

◆ “Wait, does that mean normal food isn’t nutritious at all for you?”

✦ “No! It still helps, I just need to put effort to do so. And it’s not as efficient as with normal people.”

◆ “Hm. If you’ve been relying on hunting this whole time, that explains your ‘off days’. So in that case! Let’s keep a supply of dried meats as backup in case hunting goes poorly. Maybe see if we can’t buy some wildlife bait, make things easier for you. And don’t have you bother with craft unless you’ve hunted some sadnesses.”

You nod, thankful.

You all continue to eat for a bit. Your glad there’s plenty of protein in this meal.

◉ “..T-There is. One thing. I think. Should be asked. B-But it’s a bit awkward, and maybe now’s not the best time, and-”

✦ “It’s okay, Mira. Just. I’d rather not have you worry.”

◉ “… Okay… It’s just… In that fight with Loop… They mentioned you um…”

She takes a bit of a deep breath.

◉ “You’re struggling with… the taste of… human.”

Everyone jumps a bit at that mention, yourself included. Oh stars, oh no, this is the one thing you are not prepared for! You have to take a second, you were trying not to focus on that!!

◉ “N-Not going to pry! I-It’s okay, and you don’t have to tell us anything! J-Just!… Is… Is there a way to make it… easier?”

You… Their still here with you, their not running, it’s fine, it’s fine.

Just take a deep breath and don’t think too hard.

✦ “I… It’s okay. It’s… I’ve gotten better at… Ignoring it. But... The smell of blood is bad. Hard to ignore it now… But I’ll manage.”

Nobody knows how to respond. You all know, adventuring, battles often happen, and there’s rarely a fight with no blood…

▲ “...I’m sure we can think of something to at least help!”

◆ “Of course. We do still need to get supplies for the trip to Bambouche.”

You nod. The faster you avoid THIS topic the better. And you need a moment to breathe after that reminder.

✦ “I’ll see about helping the house with repairs…”

▲ “Gotcha! I’ll help Bonnie get a letter to Nille, so they know we’re coming. And look for any news to find out the best route.”

◉ “I’ll help Madame with Supplies. We have a lot to get and might need to search a bit for what we need.”

◆ “Alright. Where shall we meet up?”

… You want to go there before you leave.

✦ “… The favor tree?”

Everyone take’s a moment of silence before nodding.

Alright. Best go about it then.

>>>

You sit in front of the favor tree. The Spiderlily still retains it’s color. You wonder if it’s permanent? Or if it’ll fade into shades eventually… You hope it stays. So that no one can ignore it. A little marker of them. So people will look at it and, even if they don’t know why, respect it.

Helping fix the house went… easier then expected. They were mostly fine, and you used a bit of monster strength here and there to carry stuff around. And made use of that webbing ability to help scaffold once. Made sure to head into the woods and locate a deer after that though, just because it seemed like a good idea. Also you noticed their craft generator was really outdated, so you did some tinkering and gave it a few upgrades. Euphrasie thanked you herself for that!

...Not that it was all pretty. Some people, having unfrozen after you beat the king, saw what you turned the house into. And some had even seen the sadnesses, before you had them die. Some saw your monster features and put 2 and 2 together. Though, one person thought you were a victim of it, which was kinda funny… The rest were just scared…

But now you’re just here. Sitting next to where they sat. Thinking about everything that has happened...

◉ “Siffrin! You’re here already?”

✦ “Yeah.”

◉ “Hehe! Me too. Got some nice stuff, Odile’s just doing double checking…”

She sits down next to you, looking up at the tree.

◉ “...Kinda feels strange, doesn’t it? That all that could happen just because people made a few idle wishes at trees like this… I’ll admit to some curiosity as to how that works.”

✦ “If you like, when everyone gets back, I could do a lesson? I… The real Siffrin was kind of an expert on this stuff. Even designed the Favor tree ritual. For Vaugarde.”

You made sure to grab those books while in the house. Nobody minded, since no one else could even read them. Felt they were important.

◉ “Wait, really? For Vaugarde?… I guess it got some use, in a way. Even if it went bad.”

✦ “It normally doesn’t… Siffrin put a lot of work into it. And died before the people they wanted to use it ever got to know… I think they’d be glad it got some use at least.”

◉ “Well, if it makes you feel better, you could tell people how to do it? So it gets to live on a little!”

You nod. You’d like that a lot… You can still bring a little closure… In fact…

✦ “… Do you think everyone would like to try, before we leave?”

◉ “H-Huh?! I.. I mean, probably? I guess I wouldn’t mind myself… though I guess I’ll have to think a bit to figure out what I want.”

✦ “Of course! We wouldn’t... leaf you out.”

Mira chuckles at that.

◉ “That’s so bad Siffrin!”

The others start to round the corner. Odile waves at you all, bags in tow.

◆ “Caught these two on their way back. They sent that letter, charted a route, and I got all the supplies. Though Boniface did come up with a few extra suggestions, so I’ll grab those before we go.”

▲ “What were you two talking about?”

◉ “Siffrin has a fun idea before we all leave!”

✦ “Yeah! But first, since you’re all here, want a proper lesson on wishcraft?”

◆ “Well, I’m not opposed, Loop only gave us the short version.”

✿ “The cool magic stuff?! Crab Yeah, I wanna know!”

▲ “I’m super interested! It comes from your home right? It’d be nice to know a bit more!”

You nod enthusiastically, and pull out the main book! Oh Stars your excited to do this again, you love talking about this, and this time they’ll remember it! Which means you can talk about extra stuff later!

◆ “Ah, You have a book ready and everything?”

✦ “Yeah, it’s all island speak so they didn’t mind giving it to me, since right now only I can read it.”

▲ “Oohh so this would be proper lost knowledge. I’m even more excited!”

Oh, lets do that teacher bit again, you liked doing that, actually.

✦ “Sit down, class, and we can begin!”

You get a few chuckles out of that. They take your seats and you begin.

You explain the stars, the constellations, the way the many worlds contribute to wishes, the way your world does the same, The way rituals are made, the way their guided, the types there are to use. You make sure to let Bonnie know about the paper cranes, and on request, you also explain how the king did their wish. It brings a bit of a damper on things, but then you explain the wishing tree wish.

As you read it out, you see that that name and title, and it brings down your heart a bit.

▲ “Something wrong Sif?”

You… Guess you should mention it. Being quiet about things like this worked out poorly last time… And they kinda already know about what happened so...

✦ “It’s just. This ritual was made by the real Siffrin. And lists them by full name and title. And well… I didn’t know beforehand…”

◆ “Title? They were a notable figure then, I presume.”

✦ “… Crown Prince, Siffrin Polaris.”

✿ “WHAT!!!”

◉ “Wait, really?!”

✦ “Yeah… I don’t want to think about it too much…”

▲ “Oh. Fair enough, that must bring up some complicated feelings.”

◉ “… Okay. But I will have to show you something later!”

You nod, and close the book, putting them back away in your cloak. Your a little curious why Mira would have something to add to that, but… later.

✦ “Regardless, now that you know all of that, I have a favor to ask!”

◆ “Really? I’m interested, what do you have in mind?”

✦ “The original Siffrin made that ritual as a gift for Vaugarde, and as such, I’d like my fellow saviors to be the first to learn, and more notably, properly use it! So, before we leave town today, If any of you have an idea for a wish, I ask that you do so!”

✿ “Coolest! Homework! Ever!!”

▲ “Hm… I’m gonna have to think for a bit.”

◆ “I presume that does not include yourself, given everything?”

You nod. You think you’ve had enough wishcraft to last several lifetimes. Helping others do it is okay, fun even! But STARS you are never doing it again.

◉ “It should be something small, just in case! But it has to be something we care about.”

✿ “Well, I already asked to see Nille already, and don’t wanna double wish. Specially since everyone else got theirs granted, so I don’t wanna mess that up.”

Huh, they did, didn’t they? Isa saved you, Mira helped save Vaugarde, and Odile won their coinflip. Strange, they didn’t do the ritual right, but it still worked out? Weird! Maybe it’s enough that they visited the tree?

✿ “I’ll just think of something else!”

◆ “Hm… I’ll go ahead and do mine now then, I’ve had an idea for one for a bit now.”

Odile gets up, and starts looking around the tree for a leaf. She eventually finds a very smooth, flattened one, and whispers into it four times, then lets it go on the wind. As it flies off into the breeze, you smell a bit of sugar.

Suddenly, in a bright gleam, a book appears in her hands.

◆ “Well then! That’s efficient.”

✿ “WOAH!!!!!”

◉ “That’s So Cool!!”

▲ “Oh that is so crabbing awesome.”

She flips through the pages quickly.

◆ “Hm, yes, this is exactly what I needed, and seems to come with the side bonus of being able to read Islander… And this frankly terrible handwriting, Gems.”

✦ “Islander? What did you wish for?”

She raises up the book, and shows you the title.

Project Starchild Research Notes, by Siffrin.

◆ “Wished to know more about YOU, of course. Should save us some time. And already, some intriguing details, right on the cover!”

◉ “Really, like what?”

◆ “For starters, these notes are about a ‘Project Starchild’. Which gives some ideas for your origins, doesn’t it? And the fact it was written by the original Siffrin… Makes me wonder if you remembering them isn’t a coincidence.”

▲ “Hey, might even get to know a bit about your past! That could be nice!”

◆ “And help mitigate some concerns you may have. With that done, Anyone want to go next?”

Everyone thinks for a bit, now putting a bit more effort into their ideas…

◉ “Oh! I think I have an idea! It’d be really hard to do normally, but it should be simple enough!”

Mirabelle looks around for a leaf, and picks a very round leaf. Avid follower of Change as usual! She breathes her wish into the leaf three times, and lets it go onto the wind.

You smell sugar again... And then suddenly, a powerful floral scent?! Mira’s stumbles to the ground.

✦ “Mira!? Are you okay?!”

You rush to her side, and briefly see… A hint of violet in her eyes?

◉ “I-I’m okay! I don’t know what just happened?”

Huh?!???? Her voice! It… You can hear it in that sound only you can hear!!!

✦ “Mira. What did you wish for?”

◉ “I-I just wanted to know more about the Change God! You said we met them, and It got me thinking and… Is something bad, was that not Okay?!”

… OH. Wait a second… Her voice sounds familiar.

✦ “… You’re good. It’s just uh. Your voice. I wasn’t expecting that.”

◉ “Huh? My voice?… Wait, it does sound different? Why would that be the case?”

✦ “… It sounds like the Change Gods.”

▲ “Huh?!? It sounds normal to me?!”

✦ “It’s kinda in this sound normal people can’t hear. But this seems an odd way to fulfill that wish, and wishcraft doesn’t smell so floral normally...”

◆ “… Did the Change God interfere? If Mirabelle gained a trait of the change god then…”

Mirabelle’s expression goes to a mild nervous panic.

◉ “...Oh Change, what did they do to me?”

Heh. In hindsight, this sees fairly in character for them. Even when talking with you, they were often fairly light hearted, and they did like Mira a bunch.

✦ “Looks like the change god is quite the trickster!”

◉ “Only for the best effect! (⌒▽⌒)☆”

Mirabelle covers her mouth in surprise. You all just sort of look at her in surprise. She waits a few seconds before speaking again.

◉ “T-That was them… wasn’t it?”

✦ “Yep…”

◆ “Ah. I presume that means… You’ve literally become part change.”

She just stands there unmoving, before letting out a massive sigh.

◉ “Oh no….”

▲ “I, for one, accept our new Demigod!”

◆ “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it quiet, lest rumors about you get worse.”

◉ “Please. I don’t think my heart could take it!”

Well. That wish didn’t go as smoothly as you’d like, but you can’t exactly blame the ritual for that.

✦ “Okay, lesson learned, don’t make wishes involving the change god.”

▲ “… But. If it can contact beings like that… Then maybe… I think I know what I’m gonna wish for.”

✦ “What do you mean?”

▲ “I know you said just wish for small stuff but… I have to try this.”

◉ “Please don’t do anything rash!”

▲ “Don’t worry this should be fine!”

Isa looks through the leaves, finds a leaf already bent in half, and whispers their wish five times into the leaf.

As they let it into the wind. You feel something stir. As Isa begins to glow Red…

And promptly collapses!

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲

What the… What happened? You felt weirdly faint and then… Where are you?

It’s dark all around. You don’t even see the ground.

You feel something behind you. You turn, and see a single, massive eye, in that strange shade, towering over you as it stares at you. It’s bigger then the whole crabbing house!!! And… It’s no normal eye. It’s like Sif’s new ones but. It’s like one horizontal slit, with multiple vertical ones across it. But still oddly star-like. Speaking of stars, you see many start to fill the space around you.

A feminine yet otherworldly voice echoes through every fiber of your being.

✧ “Greetings. Child of Mankind. You have made… a Most interesting Wish.”

You don’t know how to respond. Crab, you don’t even know who this is!! Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Crab, Crab, Crab this isn’t good!!!!

✧ “I am the Empress Arcana. And I have chosen to take charge of your wish. For while you wish to speak with one of my fellow fragments… Another has made a wish that may be merged with yours, if you are willing to accept.”

Okay, breath, breathe. You gotta do this for Loop. You aren’t leaving any version of Sif alone.

▲ “Uh.. I uh. Just wanted to talk to Loop. Wasn’t… expecting this.”

✧ “The one you knew as Loop has become one with the Fool Arcana. And while your wish may grant you but a handful of words, so detached from reality as we are… Someone has wished for me to bless another with true Communion. To Give another the Royal Blessing.”

...You’d only get one talk with Loop otherwise?… No, they deserve better then that! You won’t let them be alone.

▲ “… I’ll hear you out. What’s this involve?”

✧ “You would be given the power to call to us, your very Blood infused with my own power. And if need be, summon us into the world, at a price. Even without us present, we will expend no cost to keep you alive. And when we ARE summoned, the power of the universe itself will be at your beck and call. For in doing this, you would become our hope.”

▲ “Your hope?”

✧ “We Arcana were once one. And we yearn to be whole again. We can only do so when all of us are returned to the world at once. You need not summon us all yourself, your gentle heart would not willingly shed such blood. But… This blessing can be passed down through your bloodline. And if even one of them lives, then there is a chance we may return.”

This… Is way more then you were bargaining for. Dangerous power, costly prices, and a hell of a responsibility… But you guess, Someone’s gonna have to do it. And given Loop’s one of them now, maybe It’ll help them out. They took on rougher responsibilities anyways.

▲ “…That’s… a heavy responsibility… But. I guess. Loop deserves my best, for all they did for us. So, okay.”

✧ “There are two caveats. One knowledge you should know. And one a task you must complete.”

You breathe in and out. Change, Isa, you really have gotten into something way bigger then you should have...

… But you knew something like this might happen, the moment you made that wish. You knew that whatever Loop dabbled in to become whatever they were, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. But you aren’t gonna back down now.

▲ “Alright, I’m ready.”

✧ “First. I know not who made this wish for a New Royal Blessing. There are few who even know of such things. And to give this much power yet evade us… They will have plans. Plans that you will be wrapped into. And We may not protect you from this if it serves our interests. We sadly cannot afford to.”

Harsh. But… You get it. They need this… You get the feeling they don’t have many options.

▲ “Alright. That’s okay, We can handle it.”

✧ “Indeed. Even if we cannot protect you… I know the fallen star you cherish will… it is good they found you. They deserve your kind heart.”

Fallen star?...Do they mean Sif? Madame did mention they might be a 'starchild', but what does that mean?

✧ “Finally, my task… We do not give this blessing lightly. We cannot risk it on the weak. You must prove yourself strong enough to follow this path…"

Oh you do not like the sound of that...

✧ “To defeat me would be unfair. So. I simply ask that you survive my trial. But do not think I will be merciful. If you fail. Your life is forfeit.”

You watch as titanic claws of twisted pale flesh, adorned with Gold and gemstones, eyes and faces peering from the skin’s surface. You tremble, you have no idea what the crab you can even do about this!!!

You hesitate knowing this will be very dangerous. You’re putting your whole life on the line…

But the sheer thought. Of ANY version of Sif. ESPECIALLY one that’s gone through as much as they have. Being stuck. Alone?...

You know this is your last chance to back out but…

▲ “...Okay. Let’s do this.”

You raise your fists. You will win this.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

You try and shake Isa awake!! Nonononono Please please let them be okay!! Blind it you should have stopped them! Shouldn’t have asked any of this! Please!! Let them be Okay!!!

Wait… You watch as Isa’s hair alights a bright Red for a brief second! And then, when it fades, it seems like a slightly darker shade then before?

He opens his eyes, now a matching shade to his hair.

▲ “...Hey Sif. Sorry for scaring you.”

You cry. Blind it! Blind him for scaring you like that!

◆ “Gems Alive, what did you even wish for that could have caused that?!”

Isa coughs up some blood! Stars!!!

▲ “Sorry, I uh. Just kinda fought a god? I think? No idea what that was.”

◉ “I have SEVERAL questions?!???”

▲ “Sorry! Sorry. I just. I wished to be able to talk to Loop. Turns out, that’s a complicated situation. But hey, I think I should be able to talk to them whenever now!… Might want to wait till I’ve recovered though.”

He wished for?… Of course. He really cares about you. EVERY version of you… That he’d go so far…

✦ “Please don’t do that again…”

▲ “Course Sif. I Promise! Sides, kinda part of the contract... I’ll explain later!”

Mirabelle gives Isa some healing, and they sit down in a comfy spot.

✿ “… You all picked funny wishes. Guess I gotta do this wish!”

Bonnie goes up to the tree, and grabs a leaf with a few worm bites taken out of it. They whisper something into it six times, and then let it go into the wind.

You smell sugar, but nothing happens. Bonnie looks unfazed.

✿ “Aw. Kinda hopin something would happen. Guess it’ll just kick in later.”

✦ “What did you wish for?”

✿ “Well you had to deal with a lot of stuff that none of us remember. And it’s super crabbin annoying, cause we can’t talk about it!”

✿ “So I just did the smart thing and just wished to member it.”

...Bonnie… Wants to remember. The timeloop? Oh no...

▲ “Oh that isn’t good.”

✿ “I know it’s not gonna be nice, Frin had a bad time, but somebody’s gotta know bout it! Sides, it can’t be that crabbin bad!”

Odile points at the spiderlily. STARS you didn’t even consider that, and you were already about to gag from your own memories.

✿ “Oh. Crab. Right.. Do those count? I mean, they kinda stopped bein Frin, so...”

◆ “I suppose you’ll find out, probably.”

You still can’t get that blinding taste out of your mouth, you feel like your going to choke, it’s hard to think. Breathe. Breathe.

◉ “Siffrin?”

Blind, it you… You have to warn them!

✦ “B-Bonnie. I… Even if they don’t, it’s… It’s not good. Mine weren’t… You… The king!”

▲ “Hey, Sif, calm down, it’s okay, it’ll be fine.”

✿ “Yeah, It’s okay, I knew it was gonna be bad, you can tell me later if I need to know, once we see if the crabbin wish did anything!”

Later. Okay. Later. Their right. Maybe they won’t even remember it, and it’ll just be a vague thing. You take some breaths, in and out, try not to think about that BLINDING memory. Shove it into the back of your mind. Don’t think about it, Don’t think about it.

◆ “Sigh Well, at least every wish got granted in some form, far as I can tell. Can’t deny it’s effectiveness, even if… Some of them were complicated.”

✦ “… Yeah, I think… That’s enough wishcraft for today. Lets… let’s head back to the clocktower for now.”

Everyone nods. As you walk away from the tree. You wonder if doing this was worth it in the end…

>>>

As you all rest in the clocktower, Most of you just resting from your exertions, while Bonnie makes some lunch. Mirabelle seems to be thinking really hard, trying to figure out her weird connection. Isa is nearly passed out from… whatever he just did. And Odile is flipping through her book.

◉ “… Um, Siffrin? I have an odd question. It might seem a little out of the blue but… I think, at some point yesterday, you mentioned having lost people you cared about?”

Oh…

◉ “S-Sorry! I know it... Must be a sore spot. I wouldn’t ask normally but… I kinda feel like it’s important?”

✦ “...Right. Change god did remind me of them in the first place. I had… honestly forgotten about them. Hard to remember anything from my old home.”

◆ “It must be rough. A few names do pop up in this book though… But I’m curious what you remember of them?”

✦ “Barely anything… Oh! But I do have a picture of at least one of them!”

You pull out that special device. Can’t remember what it’s called, still.

✿ “Woah! That looks fancy!”

Bonnie walks out with some nice grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.

✦ “Yeah! I can’t remember exactly what all it does, but I do know it can store pictures and stuff! I have a picture from when I lived on the Island here, but I can’t browse the rest of it, cause it gives me headaches.”

◉ “Oh! I wanna see!”

▲ “Absolutely, I wanna see young Sif! And their friend!”

You turn on the device as your family gathers round. They look at the pigtailed woman, and the old version of you.

Their about to make comments when suddenly, a weird symbol pops up on screen.

✦ “Huh? What’s tha-”

The device flashes with an odd light, and you all suddenly feel a bit dizzy.

◆ “Gah, gems, what was that?!”

◉ “I think it was some kind of craft?”

And right when you thought it couldn’t get any weirder, the device starts shaking, and an icon pulls up, with text in your home language next to it, and another picture of the pigtailed woman.

Call from Re. Answer?

✦ “Call from?…”

But… Who would even be able to call you? That’s impossible…

… You hit answer. You have to know...

#in stars and time #isat #isat au #carrion!sif au #SymphonyInCrimson!au #And we are back!

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lilpunkrock · 2 years ago

Text

where you go (i will go)—part xiv

Summary: You are reminded that love invites vulnerability—for better and for worse.

AN: This is really the chapter and song that started this entire journey. Highly recommend listening to Taylor Acorn’s acoustic cover of Jamie All Over before reading the first half of this chapter. As for the second half—please don’t hate me.

masterlist

. . .

“Hey, please don’t tell me that I’m dreamin’,

When all I ever wanted was to dream another sunset with you.”

Jamie All Over (Acoustic), Taylor Acorn

. . .

Part xiv

‘Love can be scary. But that’s a good thing. Means you’ve got something worth being afraid of losing.’

‘You deserve to be protected.’

‘I remember you.’

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sky full of stars. High above your head hangs a full moon, pale as a bowl of cream, bathing the beach in soft twilight. The tide is quiet tonight, its whisper no louder than the shuffling of the sand as you rise to your feet.

Your eyes track the dark path of the Milky Way overhead, a dappled stream of black, purple, and pinprick stars that trickles above you. When you turn around to follow its trail, you find that it arches down to meet a very familiar silhouette standing several paces away.

A soft huff of amusement escapes you at the sight. Funny how all paths are leading to him as of late.

Fake Dream watches quietly as you approach from where you came to on the beach. The light of the moon turns his skin luminescent, every beloved feature of his face set aglow. His blue eyes reflect the starry sky back at you. Though they lack the dark gravity that you witnessed in his gallery earlier today, something in those eyes still captures your attention, pulling you in. There’s a quality to them that you can’t quite place, an emotion within them that your mind struggles to put into words. A certain measure of tenderness.

‘Something within you was known to me from the moment we met.’

His words echo in your mind as you come to a stop before him. Oh, how that realization had cut you to the bone. A cure and an affliction, all in one. Keeping yourself from him in that moment had been almost impossible. Here in your unconscious, the compulsion to go to him is even more powerful. The knowledge that this is all an illusion wears on your resolve.

“Did you mean it? When you said that I deserve to be protected?” The question hardly feels real as it slips from your lips, a ghost in the saltwater air.

Fake Dream’s eyes watch you with an intensity that’s almost palpable. His gaze on you feels physical, a soft touch to your cheek. “Yes,” he breathes into the night air.

The sigh that escapes you is one of relief. “I’ve never had someone to protect me before,” you admit, your voice small and hesitant.

Fake Dream’s throat bobs at your words, a nonverbal response. You take one step closer to him, watch his eyes track your shift in position.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to submit, you think. To give in, just for a little while. To pretend that this was real, to pretend he wasn’t fake. To pretend that this was your Dream.

And if it did hurt…well, the only one you’d have to blame was yourself.

Your hands find his with tentative fingers. His skin is soft as silk as your thumbs trace the lines of his palms. Hands that had created, hands that had destroyed. When it came to you, all they had ever done was support, uplift, cultivate. You loved these hands.

The shift in the air when you touch him is tangible. A crescendo in energy, a symphony building. Coiled like a spring, and yet you know he won’t make the first move. He’ll entrust you with that decision.

“I’m tired of running, Dream,” you say, drawing a step nearer to him. Close enough that you can bring his hands to your chest, that when you raise your head to look at him, your nose nearly brushes his skin.

Dream’s voice is soft, betraying nothing of the pressure building within. “Then don’t.”

For a long moment, you don’t dare move. Not out of fear, but because the simple pleasure of allowing yourself to be this close to him, of allowing your guard to finally fall, is utterly intoxicating. Up close, Dream’s eyes are seas you could drown in. Happily, you might add. The warmth of his skin radiates from him, drawing a flush into your cheeks. His breath dances across your skin, a piece of him that you inhale, exhale. Your heart pounds in your ribcage like a bird’s wings, about to take flight. You wonder if he can hear it, too.

Breathing his borrowed breath is almost too sacred, too intimate to sustain. He could set your soul aflame at will. He could rip the air straight from your lungs and fill his own. He could crumple your paper heart in the palm of his hand. And yet, the fear of these fates is minuscule compared to your fear of the next moment never happening at all.

You had thought you’d been in love before. That was nothing compared to this.

When you lean forward, the universe sighs, ‘Yes.’

When you press your lips to his, it feels like, finally.

The two of you release a bated breath through your noses simultaneously, as if with the same pair of lungs. With the exhalation, the world around you stills. A moment frozen in time. Suspended within it, you’re not sure there was ever a world outside of him at all.

After a long moment, Dream moves. The glide of his lips against your own is soft as cashmere, smooth as silk. The pressure is sure and gentle. His bottom lip is full and round as it slips between yours, just as plush as you’d imagined. With each slow, savoring movement, a fuzzy warmth seeps into your toes, curling up into your stomach, unfurling in your chest. It feels like every attachment you’ve ever fostered–no, better.

What does it taste like to kiss dreams and stars? It tastes like milk and honey.

Only when your lungs burn for air do you reluctantly pull away. When your lashes flutter open, heavy with bliss, you find Dream’s eyes brimming with stars. Pouty lips parted and flushed red from your affection, he looks at you like a beautiful dream, a well-crafted nightmare. Like every ounce of gravity in the universe is pulling him toward you—a celestial body entangled in your gravitational pull.

He looks at you as if he doesn’t fear the inevitable collision. In spite of all that he now knows, he doesn’t look at you as if you’ll break on impact. He looks at you with awe, with reverence. It’s transcending and grounding, all at once. A rush of adrenaline pours through you, frazzling your thoughts, making you giddy.

When you press your lips to his again, it’s with fervor and a grin. Emboldened, your curious hands slide up his arms, fingers tightening around the sinewy strength beneath his cloak. Dream’s features were often so poised, so perfect, that one might expect him to be cold and stiff, like a statue. But the column of his throat is anything but inanimate as your fingers glide over it, eager and exploratory. His jugular tightens under your touch, his skin warm, his steady heartbeat thrumming into your palm.

As satisfying as this particular piece of him is, there’s something you’re even more eager to explore. Dream’s hair is lush and thick as your hand cards through it, the strands soft as cornsilk between your fingers. When they curl into the wild tresses at the back of his head, giving a soft pull, a delicious sound pours from Dream’s mouth into yours. You swallow it greedily, your bones turning to jelly. You want to pull that sound from him, again and again.

Your eagerness sparks a flame in him like steel to flint. In an instant, Dream is all around you—his chest pressed to yours, one hand drawing you into him from the small of your back, the other a cradle for your cheek.

You aren’t sure what you expected his touch to feel like. Dream was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, after all. Perhaps you expected a dominance in his touch, or a sense of power lurking beneath the surface of his skin. But this is neither. The press of his hand to your back is firm, but not forceful. His palm cups your cheek like a treasure, like a masterpiece. When his hands begin to move, searching, mirroring your own curiosity, every touch feels like worship, every nerve set aflame.

The press of his lips against yours, gentle and insistent, is everything. What need do you have of oxygen, of food, of water? None. All you require to remain is this.

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long,” you whisper as your back falls against the sand. Dream’s lithe form hovers over you, all long limbs and draping cloak. Grabbing him by the lapels, you draw him down toward you, unappreciative of the empty space between you.

Dream’s lips find your ear, a brush that sends a mind-bending shiver down your spine. His disheveled hair sweeps over your face, tickling your nose and cheeks. ‘’Dreamt?’” he echoes, lips upturned against your skin.

Your heart swells three sizes at the amused lilt in his tone. Maker, you didn’t know that love could feel like this. Like fire and ice, like a suckerpunch and the sweetest embrace, like a first and final breath, all at once. Your chest feels too small to hold it, and yet all you crave is more.

“You know what I mean,” you laugh, tilting your face to steal his lips again.

Time slips from your grasp as you lose yourself in each other. You had always known Dream to be attentive, a perfectionist, meticulous to a fault. You had spent countless days watching him observe dreams and nightmares in silence, making miniscule adjustments until each was just as he pleased. He shows the same attention to detail here–no curiosity left unsatisfied, no quiet gasp of yours left without follow-through. To be the sole focus of his attention is intoxicating, almost maddening.

You have spent your entire existence pouring love into others. For the first time, you understand how it feels to open your soul to another, to have them open their own in return. To see into the core of another and to be seen. To be thoroughly treasured, entirely engulfed, utterly loved.

You never want it to stop.

As Dream’s fingers drift over your skin, leaving fire in their wake, the rational part of you, the part you’ve been trying desperately to silence, reminds you that this is only a fantasy. You don’t know if the real Dream’s fingers would linger along the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. Would the tip of his nose fit perfectly into the hollow under your ear, just as it did here? Would his lips quirk upwards each time his affections coaxed a soft hum from your throat, a smile you could feel, but could not see?

“I wish this was real,” you breathe when your lips part for air, leaning your cheek into the palm of his hand. Your fingers trail through the feather-soft hair at the back of his head, already eager to pull him back toward you.

Dream stills slowly above you. When he draws back, ever so slightly, his eyes are so clear you can almost see your reflection in them.

A confession shines in those blue irises, bright and earnest. Of what, you don’t know.

For several moments, all is still save for the rise and fall of your chests as you regain your breath. Then, slowly, Dream weaves his fingers through your hair, drawing your face into the crook of his neck. You press yourself deeper into his lean, slender form, burrowing closer, searching for more places to touch, more places to connect. Yearning to melt together until you can’t be distinguished apart. Until there is no place where he ends and you begin. Nothing less will do.

You remain that way for a long time.

Finally, Dream draws his lips to your ear. “May I?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.

You turn your face to his, nestling your nose into his unruly mop of hair, placing a tender kiss into the hollow under his ear. “Please.”

. . .

“Do we have to leave?”

There is a shift at the back of your head as Dream’s lips quirk against your hair. Damn that smile, elusive as ever. “I’m afraid so,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your scalp.

You heave a soft sigh, pressing closer to him. Dream’s chest is warm and solid against your back, his arms and legs encircling you as you sit together on the beach, watching the moon coax in the tide. Dream’s cloak is draped over you, shielding you from the seabreeze that skims off the waves. You draw it tighter around your neck as a new breath of wind tickles your cheeks.

“What if I just stay forever?” you ask, only half-joking.

Dream’s thumbs stroke your knuckles, his touch slow, thoughtful. “I suspect the world would become a very dismal, lonely place.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, turning you soft and sentimental. You lean your head back against his shoulder, peering up at his face. Mortal and divine vocabulary alike fail to describe the way he looks at you, to capture the feeling his gaze places in your chest. Like having your heart torn apart and sewn together over and over again. It’s a sweet kind of pain, an agony you know you’re blessed to carry.

“What I’d give to see the real you look at me this way,” you say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Dream watches you in silence for several moments. Finally, he draws one hand out of his cloak, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the wrinkle in your brow. Any sense of sorrow and bittersweetness fades at his touch, replaced by warm contentment.

“Do not urge me to leave you, or to turn back from you.” The words slip from his lips like a prayer, as familiar to you as the blue of his eyes. Instantly, they transport you back in time–back to Cathedral Grove, to the wedding you attended under the green and gold leaves, to the vows that were exchanged there.

That was months ago. Though you’ve heard these words countless times, even recited them to yourself, hearing them in his voice takes your breath away. “Where you go, I will go,” he continues, his voice soft.

The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. When you find your voice, it’s scarcely more than a whisper. “And where you stay, I will stay.”

Dream’s thumb trails down your cheek, favoring the curve of your jaw. “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried,” he murmurs, eyes bright with stars.

You can still remember the moment you looked up from the young couple’s glowing attachments, still remember the way he looked at you across that clearing. Was that the moment you’d started to love him? Or had it come sooner, later?

You honestly weren’t sure. It felt as if he’d always been yours. Life before him seemed like a strange and distant memory now. You didn’t even want to think of it.

“May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me,” you finish quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

As you lean into him, savoring this moment, this togetherness, for as long as you can, you feel his warm breath over your skin. “What more could one want than to not go through this life alone?”

. . .

As you make your way toward Cliff’s coffee shop, you’re convinced that you’ve never seen so many mortals smiling on a Monday morning in the dead of winter.

Normally, Monday morning coffee runs are filled with tired eyes, whispers of plans for the Friday ahead, and faces glued to phones as everyone scrambles to organize their lives for the week. But today’s walk is filled with bright eyes, refreshed faces, and contented smiles. For once, everyone’s faces are turned up to the sky, or steeped in conversation with a friend. You barely see a phone in sight.

Must be something in the water, you muse with a grin of your own as you step into Cliff’s coffee shop. When the white-haired man affixes you with a toothy smile from behind the counter, you grin even wider.

“‘Morning, Cliff. The usual, please,” you say as you fish the cash out of your pocket, placing it into his waiting hand. “And add an earl grey to go, please.”

“Of course, miss.” Cliff is already pulling the container of milk from the fridge below the counter as he deposits the money into the cash register.

You can’t help the lopsided grin that warms your face as you watch Cliff set to work tamping the grounds, foaming the milk, brewing the tea. He’s always seemed agile for his years, but the way he moves this morning looks downright youthful.

When he twirls the long-handled spoon between his fingers before stirring the earl grey, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

Cliff’s white beard frames his smile perfectly as he places the to-go cups before you, slipping lids onto them with nimble fingers. “Indeed, miss. ‘Suppose I got an extra good night of sleep,” he says.

Heat creeps up your neck as your own activities from last night come to mind. You hide a cheeky grin behind the rim of your coffee cup. “Glad to hear it.”

A mixture of excitement and nerves makes you impervious to the cold as you walk back to your townhome. Mind racing, you mull over possible phrases for the thousandth time since you awoke.

Hey, Dream. Do you mind if we talk in private for a moment?

That was as good a place to start as any. But what next?

Dream, what I’m about to say sounds crazy—

My unconscious mind is so enamored with you that it’s created a fake you that I’ve been hanging out with every night—

And we’re actually soulmates. Like, romantic soulmates—

You huff with dissatisfaction, taking a long drink of your coffee. That wouldn’t do. He’d think Matthew had fried your brain with a bad joke or something.

Dream, there’s something I need to tell you.

Balancing one to-go cup precariously atop the other, you dig through your pocket for the keys to your front door. Perhaps you could just wing it from there. Or perhaps you’d totally lose your nerve once you saw him in person. Right now, you were riding the high of your time with Fake Dream, drunk off the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his skin. Would you be able to speak the truth when everything was real, when you were face-to-face? You weren’t really sure. After last night, all you knew was that you were tired of running, tired of hiding. Tired of not letting him know how you felt.

You were ready to make the leap. You could only hope and pray that you’d make it to the other side.

Your key slips into the lock with a resolute click. Warmth creeps into your cheeks as you step inside, locking the door behind you. When you turn to take your cups to the kitchen, the sight of someone sitting on the counter nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

“Maker, what is wrong with you Endless? Are you completely incapable of making a normal entrance? Is knocking a foreign concept to you?”

Desire of the Endless grins at you from their place on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, eyes flashing. “You sure know how to make a guest feel welcome, don’t you, darling?” they coo, all blood-red lips and bone-white teeth.

You shoot Desire a pointed glare, placing your to-go cups on the end of the counter furthest from them. “The term guest implies that someone is welcome, which you are most definitely not.”

Desire’s eyebrows perk up, making their golden eyes even wider. “So touchy these days. You used to cower in my presence. I must say, this is much more entertaining.”

Your jaw sets tightly as you drape your coat over a dining table chair. As much as it pains you to admit it, Desire was right. The helplessness you had felt in their presence had seemed inescapable once. The shift from fear to annoyance had been subtle. Looking back, you suppose that as your power had grown over the past few months, so too had your confidence, your willingness to stand up for yourself. In the past, your fear had stemmed from a lack of control over your circumstances. Now, you felt like you had a say in your future, a way to combat Desire’s interferences. Another blessing of Dream entering your life.

Desire’s gaze darts to the second to-go cup resting on the counter. ‘Earl grey’ is scrawled across the side in Cliff’s cursive handwriting.’ “Who might that be for?” they ask, voice sickeningly sweet.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to snatch the cup from their sight. You settle for crossing your arms, instead. “That’s none of your business. Did you just come here to make idle chit-chat? If so, I really have better things to do.”

“Like what? Get back to your darling Dream?”

Something about the sense of knowing in Desire’s voice chills the blood in your veins.

Desire grins widely, leaning forward. “How was your night? Very eventful, I presume.”

Dread trickles down your spine, numbness creeping forth from the cracks it sews. You try your best to keep your expression neutral. When Desire licks their lips like a predator eager to feast, you suspect you’re failing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through clenched teeth.

Desire rolls their eyes, irritation pinching their feline features. “Come now, little goddess. You’re a terrible liar. Did you forget that all beings fall under my domain of desire? When I sensed your connection to the Threshold last night, I could hardly believe it. I thought, ‘Could she really be such a fool to place herself within my grasp again? Surely not.’”

The walls of your townhome pull away as darkness encroaches on your vision. One hand steadies yourself against the counter as numbness grips your knees.

The soft purr of Desire’s laughter meets your ears, followed by the sound of two feet hitting the floor. “That’s when I went to your quaint little realm to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found that you and my darling brother share a soulmate attachment. And not only that, but eros, erotoropia, and pragma, as well. I swear upon my eldest sibling, you truly are a fool.”

Eros, erotoropia, and pragma? You hadn’t even known about those. The last time you’d been to the Realm of Attachment, only the philia had been present. Had the others formed last night? you wonder, mind racing.

“I must say, you did an admirable job of keeping it from me at first. A ‘B’ for effort if I ever saw one. But nothing could conceal what I felt last night.”

The feeling of hot breath on your face jerks you back to your senses. With a shake of your head, the darkness clears from your vision, revealing Desire’s grinning face mere inches from yours. “When I killed you all those years ago, I couldn’t have dreamt of the ramifications I’d see today. That toying with a mortal would lead to my brother’s undoing. I must say, you’ve surprised me, Love. And for that, I am quite pleased.”

Your fingernails grind against the countertop as you brace yourself against it. You fight the urge to run, force yourself to stand your ground. “What do you mean, ‘undoing?’” you ask coldly, trying to sound more assertive than you feel.

Desire takes a step closer, pressing in on you. Their close proximity, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the dread weighing down your bones–it’s all too much. When Desire’s fingers cup your chin, you want to crawl out of your skin. You fight the urge to push them away, unsure of what they’d do if you did.

“Though it might be hard to believe, my brother Dream is quite the romantic. That lonely heart of his has gotten him into all sorts of trouble, caused him all sorts of pain. Some of it my doing, some of it not.” Desire flashes you a cheek-splitting grin. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, darling. Nor was my somber, solitary sibling. ”

You clench your eyes closed, repulsed by the sweet malice in Desire’s expression. Killala. Nada. Calliope. You can still remember the sight of their names in Dream’s book in your library. You can still picture how he’d looked at you when you’d asked what happened with them that night on the dock. ‘I am not entirely sure. Perhaps that is why the process continues to repeat itself,’ he’d said, his voice soft and sad.

Now, the truth dawns on you. The realization that, while he wasn’t entirely excused of blame for the outcome of his past relationships, their demise hadn’t entirely been his fault, either. How many times had Desire interfered with Dream’s relationships, and in what ways? How many times had they been responsible for Dream’s sadness, his loneliness, his broken, distrustful heart?

The thought makes you want to run to Dream, to throw your arms around him. It makes you want to tell him everything.

Your feet move beneath you as you resolve to follow through. However, just as you start to pull away, Desire’s voice makes you halt. “Dream’s falling out with Calliope left a nasty scar. Made him impassioned, turned him into a recluse. He’s walled himself off for a long, long time. But with you here, I finally have a way in.”

The world around you goes very, very still.

“My brother’s heart has always been his greatest weakness.” The feeling of fingernails pressing into your skin spurs your eyes open. Desire tilts your chin to meet their gaze with an agonizing slowness. When you lock eyes, you’re met not with malice, or anger, or annoyance. Only cold, hollow contempt.

The next words they say will haunt you forever. “Perhaps you really were made for each other.”

For a long moment, there is nothing. And then, like a loose thread, the world you know begins to unravel.

It’s a strange feeling, having the foundation of your life crumble beneath you. A war between emptiness and overstimulation, between immobility and urgency, between desperation and surrender. Sense of control slips through your fingers like tears. Surety flees with it, like a rug ripped out from beneath your feet. Your stomach bottoms out as you freefall, down, down, down, with no end in sight.

When would you hit the bottom? Was there a bottom to hit?

You had thought you held your life in your own hands. You had thought that the future was yours to create. You had thought you’d known what that future might hold.

You were wrong.

Your palms hit the trash can by the fridge with enough force to bruise. The acidic burn of bile and coffee floods your mouth as the sad truth crashes through you, again and again. As you realize what your future now holds.

Your gaze, hot and blurry with tears, rises to the cup of earl grey sitting on the counter just a few feet away. The one you’d bought for him. The one you wouldn’t be able to give him, now that your sorry heart had ruined everything.

The salt of your tears reminds you of the Dreaming’s sea. You heave into the trash can again.

Desire’s fingers rest on your shoulder in mock sympathy. You can’t bring yourself to pull away. “I told you I’d find what you loved and squeeze, darling. You should have listened.”

The trash can’s steel lid is cool and smooth against your cheek. You blink past the tears in your eyes, watching as Desire saunters toward the door. “You’ll regret this,” you choke past the vice that grips your throat.

Desire unlocks the door, then pauses. Slowly, they turn to look at you over their shoulder. For once, their lips are not pulled into a devilish grin. Their expression is devoid of emotion, their gold eyes hard with disdain. “Funny, the only one who looks like they have any regrets here is you.”

And without another word, they slip out the door.

. . .

You don’t go to the Dreaming that day, or the next day, or the next.

. . .

Once, spending your days alone had come easily to you. Though lonely, it had been preferable, really, to the painful possibility of having your trust betrayed. The painful possibility of losing something–or someone–you cared about.

Oh, what you’d give to return to those days now.

The Realm of Attachment starts to lose its beauty after so many days spent there without reprieve. The rainbow tapestry of the sky seems duller in color, the attachments between mortals glowing with less fervor than they used to. You’re not sure if it’s simply your imagination, or if your Realm is siphoning off the negative energy of its creator. You’re not sure you have the strength to care.

In spite of your homesickness for the mortal world, you spend as much time in your Realm as possible. You know the Dream Lord can’t reach you there. Only yourself and Desire are capable of traversing the realm freely.

Out of an abundance of caution, you don’t allow yourself to rest, either. Not out of fear of Dream finding you. You’re well aware that you can’t dream, that him contacting you in such a way is impossible. Rather, you don’t trust your unconscious to resist conjuring Fake Dream if you were to give in. You’re not sure what you would do if you saw him there. Fear that it would crumble your resolve keeps you alert at all hours, in spite of your mind’s pleas for rest.

It’s only when you need to grab your list of daily assignments from the Fates that you depart your Realm for the mortal world. Just enough time to grab your list, and nothing more.

It’s on one of these brief outings that he finally finds you.

When you walk through the front door of your townhome, you’re intent on grabbing your assignments from the kitchen and finding the nearest mortal to pass through without delay. At the sight of Dream standing in the center of your living room, however, all plans and intentions are thrown out the door.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again. After so many days parted from him, it feels like it’s for the first time. The force of his presence, of how much you’ve missed him, of how badly you want to run to him, hits you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs.

The realization that he must have been waiting for you here comes after.

Your mouth hangs agape, any semblance of coherent thought far from your reach. In spite of your mind’s protests, your body carries you forward, through the doorway. The front door closes behind you with a resolute click.

Silence.

“You have been avoiding me,” Dream finally says, his voice matter-of-fact, measured.

You draw in a breath to speak, only to come up at a loss. What is there to say? Any possible response feels like both too much and too little. You settle for closing your mouth, hands fisting anxiously at your sides.

Your silence is answer enough for him. “Why?” Dream asks, his dark brows furrowing.

Again, words seem to fail you. Your eyes slowly drift to the to-go cup sitting on your kitchen counter, still filled with earl grey tea. You haven’t touched it since that day, haven’t garnered the willpower to throw it away.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, barely more than a whisper.

Something in Dream’s expression shifts at the sound of your voice. He takes a step toward you, his long cloak sweeping the floor. However, when you step in the opposite direction, maintaining the distance between you, he stops. Confusion pinches his handsome features, darkening his eyes, forming new wrinkles in his brow. Knowing that you placed them there makes you want to tear your heart out and stomp on it.

“What is going on, Love?” he asks quietly, his voice softening around your name.

This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading. The moment you’ve been desperately trying to avoid.

You swallow thickly, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “I can’t see you anymore, Dream.”

Your words hang in the air, suspended in time. Perhaps they’ll never leave. Perhaps they’ll remain here even after you're gone, a permanent blemish upon this place you call home, like a scuffed wall, or faulty wiring.

When the weight of the silence becomes too great, you add a strained, “I’m sorry.”

Dream studies your face for a long time, his troubled gaze lingering on the furrow in your brow, the reluctance in your eyes. Finally, he shakes his head, just once. “What is the reason for this?”

A shaky breath slips from you. You’ve planned for this conversation for days, rehearsed it in your head over and over. Even still, you can’t conceal the hesitation in your tone as you answer, “I can’t tell you.”

Dream’s lips tighten in displeasure. Maker, how you’ve missed those lips. “You must.”

“I can’t.”

Dream’s mouth opens, then closes, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

You draw in another inhale, release another breath. Though it goes against every fiber of your being, against everything you want, you have to stick to your decision. That day in the gallery, you had told Dream that the war between you and Desire was yours to wage. In your heart, the sentiment still rings true. A battle between two Endless was sure to be catastrophic in ways you couldn’t even fathom. It would certainly rock the foundation of mortals’ lives as they knew it. Who knew how it would impact the universe at large. The only way to protect them was to wage it alone.

And then there was Dream. As long as you were with him, as long as the soul tie between you had the chance to fulfill itself, Desire would have a way into Dream’s heart. Dream would be vulnerable.

The only way to protect him was to keep him from you. You had accepted that now. Making yourself his villain was the price you’d have to pay.

Dream shakes his head again, a flicker of resolve flashing in his eyes. He begins to approach you again, each step swift, purposeful. When you begin to step backward, he opens his mouth to protest. Just as he does, your back collides with the wall, stopping you in your tracks. Though only a few feet stand between you, it feels like miles.

“I don’t understand,” he says again, his voice tight with an emotion you can’t quite place. “You told me that you were tired of running.You told me that you wished it was real.” He pauses, a thick swallow working down the column of his throat. “You told me that you wanted to stay.”

For a moment, there is nothing but the shallow hush of his breathing, a soft rush of air as the breath is pulled from your lungs.

And then, it all clicks.

‘I wish this was real,’ you’d breathed into Fake Dream’s skin beneath the star-lit sky on that honey-gold beach.

And he’d paused.

“Dream.”

At the sound of his name on your lips, Dream surges forward, closing the distance between you. He stops shy of touching you, instead clenching his hands at his sides. You wonder if he suspects that you’d run if he did. If only you could tell him just how desperately you wanted to do the opposite.

You shake your head, searching his eyes for answers. “How?” you ask, brow furrowed in confusion. “You said it yourself. Gods and goddesses don’t dream.”

“You are right,” he says, his voice gentle. “The divine do not dream. But you do possess an unconscious.” He pauses, considering his words, then dips his chin toward you. “I once told you that I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Though I had never traversed the plane of a deity’s, I suspected that I could. I only needed a way to get there.”

Your hand slips into the pocket of your coat with a mind of its own. The cloth of Dream’s pouch of sand is soft and familiar against your palm. You’d carried it with you each day since he’d given it to you. Even now, when you’d been avoiding him, you couldn’t bear to part with it. It was a piece of him you carried everywhere you went.

It all made sense now.

As you hold Dream’s pale blue gaze, liquid warmth bubbles up in your chest. Slowly at first, and then spilling forth, overflowing, flooding everything.

It had been your Dream, all along. It was his fingers that had caressed the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. It was his nose that had fit so perfectly into the hollow under your ear. It was his lips that had upturned into your kiss.

He had vowed to go where you went, to stay where you stayed. He felt the same.

He feels the same.

You almost wish you didn’t know. It makes what has to come so much harder.

With a shuddering breath, you steal your nerves, gathering courage. You close your eyes, unsure if you can find the strength to press on if you look at him. “Dream, you have to listen to me. You have to let me go. Please.”

“No.” His voice is firm, absolute.

You swallow, hard. “Then I’ll have to go,” you say, moving to step around him.

The touch on your elbow is immediate. “Wait,” he insists, stepping with you. In spite of the urgency in his tone, his touch is gentle, entreating. It makes you want to cry.

“Is that truly what you want?” he asks, his voice imploring. Asking you to open your eyes, asking you to look at him.

With reluctance, you do. Dream’s ocean eyes–always full of stars, full of thoughtfulness, full of intrigue–are soft, their edges red, their surface wet. They cut straight through to your soul as he holds your gaze, waiting for your answer.

It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him, this moment when you’re breaking his heart. The realization that you’ve brought him to tears before you’ve ever brought him to laughter hits you like a ton of bricks. The thought of it is suffocating.

In this moment, you hate yourself more than anything on this earth, or any realm beyond. Breaking his heart is the worst thing you’ve ever done. The worst thing you’ll ever do.

You ache to take him in your arms, to card your fingers through that wild hair, to cradle his face in the crook of your neck. One day, I hope I can explain everything, you long to say.

The bitter taste of copper fills your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself to speak, or even breathe. Though you have a plan for what’s next, you’re unsure if you have any chance at succeeding. It’s entirely possible that you and Desire are doomed to maintain this cruel dance between you for the remainder of time. If that’s the case, you can’t bear to give Dream false hope.

Still, you can’t help but picture the bond between you, imagine it glowing white, vigorous, and radiant. You hope beyond all hope that he can feel it too, that he can hear the whisper of your heart against his, that he can sense your intentions.

Let me fix this, you think, holding his gaze as tears sting in your own. You drink in each thread of blue, each dark lash that frames those eyes you love, committing each detail to memory. Wondering if it’s for the last time. Let me protect you.

Dream takes your hands in his ever so gently. His thumbs skim across your knuckles, just as they had days ago on the beach. You can feel the request behind them, one last attempt to convince you. Please, they seem to say with each stroke.

You close your eyes as your heart cracks in two.

“As you wish,” he concedes quietly.

And in a breath, his touch is gone.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone. Your hands are outstretched in front of you, fingers still curled from where he’d held them. You can still feel the ghost of his touch against your skin.

Completely, utterly alone.

The first scream is torn from somewhere deep within you, a black, cavernous space you didn’t even know you held. Adrenaline rips through you, bright and painful, as you storm into the kitchen, throwing your arm at the pile of assignments sitting on the kitchen counter. The papers scatter in a flurry of white, flying across the floor, twirling in the air like snow.

The second shout is guttural, more animal than human. A howl of pain, a howl of longing. Your coat is ripped from your shoulders in rage and flung across the room. Other items follow–throw pillows, blankets, shoes, novels. Whatever is in sight.

It’s only when the cup of earl grey tea enters your vision that you finally stop. Chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, muscles caught between exhaustion and exhilaration. When your eyes settle on the cup, everything else fades away.

It’s only then that the tears finally fall.

As the sound of wet, choked sobs echoes through the room, you look at the wreckage around you. All of it mirrors the destruction you feel within–the pain, the chaos. None of it fills the gaping void that his departure leaves in your soul.

As the last vestige of your adrenaline slips away, you crumple to the floor, knowing that you, too, belong to the ruin.

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #dream x fem!reader #morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus x fem!reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 month ago

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Coming soon: Saltwater Symphony

Eddie thought the night guard job at the local zoo was easy money. He didn't expect to encounter homicidal parrots, nosy middle schoolers, greedy hotel tycoons, or being attacked by a beautiful naked dude in search of his magic cloak - and it's only his first week!

—

Or: The one where Steve is a selkie who lives at the zoo and Eddie needs to help him find his hide.

Coming soon on AO3

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #saltwater symphony #selkie Steve

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manawari · 3 months ago

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~ Lifeguard!Byung-gyu × Lee Ju-hee ~

After months of endless work at the hospital, Lee Ju-hee finally broke free from the chains as she embarked on a trip to the beach with her friends. In the midst of joy and carefree moments, a certain lifeguard suddenly caught her eye.

"We're here!"

"Oh my God, I missed this place!"

"Hee-jin, quickly get the camera!"

"I can't wait to put on my new swimsuit!!"

"I wonder if there are any cute boys around. . . "

"Ye-rim! I thought this vacation was going to be about ourselves only?" Ju-hee playfully chastised her friend. "Think about boys for some other time."

"Wow, Dr. Lee Ju-hee has definitely signed off, huh?" Ye-rim snickered.

"Can you blame me? I have been waiting for this trip for a year!"

"Sweetheart, aren't we all?" Gina grinned from the driver's seat. "Mr. Choi was kind enough to let Bora and I take a few days off."

Lee Bora laughed. "I can't believe we left Ki-hoon alone!"

"He can handle anything, Bora. And he wants to be promoted, remember? Take it as us doing him a favor."

"Right."

Ju-hee chuckled along, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned closer to the open window, allowing the wind to brush against her like a mirthful embrace. It felt different than when she was in the city — the wind was fresh and no responsibilities chained around her mind. Well, Ju-hee had set them aside on purpose, choosing to spend her short vacation with moments she would cherish forever.

Gina maneuvered the van into one of the available parking spaces and the girls climbed out, bringing along their bags to make their way to the reception. Hee-jin conversed with the receptionist about the cabin she had reserved.

"Se-mi and Ji-woo would've loved to be here," said Bora. "Sadly, organizing schedules with your friends as an adult is tough."

"Then let's go here again next time," Gina suggested. "If they can't still be available, I'll drag them here myself."

Indeed, it was difficult. Ju-hee had missed several trips due to her med school, choosing to focus on her path toward her career above the desire to create new happy memories. She couldn't remember the last time she found herself in such a paradise called the beach.

Hee-jin returned to the group with the key in her hand. Ye-rim squealed in excitement and grabbed her friend's arm, urging her to take the lead to where their cabin was located. Palm trees swayed lazily amidst the warm, fragrant breeze that carried the scent of saltwater and flowers, pristine white sand stretched throughout the place, glowing beneath the inviting sunlight, and the waves rolled over the shore in rhythmic whispers, leaving the sand drenched in its wake and foams sparkling as it retreated to the sea.

Mingled laughter echoed and a symphony of birds chirped, weaving into the blissful atmosphere. Beach cabins and huts added a fine touch for those who wished to be closer to the sea. The girls arrived at their designated cabin — the place accommodated two beds, though mattresses were available in the closet for those who could not fit in the beds.

Once they settled their bags and luggage, the girls quickly brought out their swimwear, getting ready for the sea instead of a few moments to rest after hours of ceaseless driving. It was clear their excitement got the best of them. While Ju-hee had brought out her brown halterneck swimsuit, she still chose to wear her jean shorts, not quite fond of showing a complete expanse of her legs. The swimsuit only managed to cover her chest, leaving a portion of her stomach exposed, and it also embraced her figure like a second skin.

"Wow, you got some sweet figure there, Ju-hee!" Gina remarked, spraying perfume on her strawberry-blonde hair. She was already clad in her two-piece outfit, accentuating her curves.

Ju-hee blushed at the compliment. "Well, not as good as yours, Gina."

"Nonsense! Everyone looks so pretty right now!" Ye-rim chirped, clad in a floral bikini. "Oh my God, we should look for a nice flower to put on you, Hee-jin!"

"Maybe later. I don't want to soak the poor flower the second we jump into the water." Hee-jin chuckled.

"Let's go look for seashells too!" Bora exclaimed, tying a purple band around her hair, matching her outfit. "I saw some pictures on the resort's page, and I wanna see if they are true. And hopefully, we'll bring home for each of us, and Se-mi and Ji-woo too."

Her friends agreed ecstatically.

The group soon exited their cabin, giggling once their feet touched the scorching sand. Ju-hee's heart raced rapidly as she made her way to the sea as if hearing it call her name, and the happiness had never overflowed so hard.

Water splashed upon their weight and the waves collided with their skin. Ye-rim plunged into the saltwater and started splashing Gina, who immediately retaliated. Ju-hee laughed until she felt her arm being grabbed by Hee-jin, who was smirking as she dragged her across the waves. Ju-hee yelped and fought against her friend's grip, only then to have Bora rush in to push her into the water.

She resurfaced and coughed out the water. Hee-jin and Bora laughed, making her glare icily at them, so Ju-hee grabbed Bora's wrist to bring her down. She turned to Hee-jin this time, the raven-haired woman held her hands up and told her to not do it, but Ju-hee wouldn't allow Hee-jin to keep her hair dry when the rest already had been soaked.

"Nope!" She grabbed Hee-jin by the wrist, causing her friend to protest.

Eventually, Hee-jin crashed into the water, with Bora laughing at her as she floated. The group of friends played under the cloudless sky, the sun was at its peak, and not a tinge of worry lingered in their minds, breaking free from reality to appreciate the beauty of their paradise.

Suddenly, a splash collided with both of their bodies. Ju-hee instinctively pulled her niece close and looked up, spotting a man running across the water and eventually diving into the sea.

A few moments later, Ju-hee found herself on the shore, letting the waves lap over her feet. Gina, Ye-rim, Hee-jin, and Bora had begun to search for seashells, to which Ju-hee elected to sit out to take a break, yet she promised them to join once she restored her stamina. In the meantime, she drew her finger across the sand, forming shapes and doodles.

"My son!"

A wail from a mother caught her attention. Ju-hee raised her head and saw a small crowd gathering, surrounding the woman, who was crying her heart out for her child. Curiously, Ju-hee stood up and made her way to the crowd, just in time to spot a lifeguard emerging from the waves, striding to the shore with a kid in his arms.

"Don't worry, ma'am, your kid's going to be fine!" The man said to the woman, bringing the kid over to gently place him on the dry ground. The lifeguard parted the kid's mouth and lowered his ear, sensing if there were any signs of breathing, then he put his hands on top of each other, curling his fingers to the front, and pressed them onto the chest.

Ju-hee watched in bated breath whilst the lifeguard began to pound the unconscious child's chest. The mother sobbed, afraid of her son's fate. As much as the beach was fun, there could be risks underneath, especially with the sea that could drag a person to its depths.

Finally, the young boy let out a gasp and the lifeguard placed his hand on his back, helping him rise and allowing him to cough the air and bits of water clogged in his lungs. The mother cried out her son's name and rushed to pull him into her arms, cradling him gently.

Ju-hee sighed in relief, smiling at the sweet moment between the mother and her son. She was glad that the kid had survived. The lifeguard stood up and walked in her direction, only to have her heart skip a beat, seeing his athletic build and the droplets of water glistening under the sun. His fingers combed through his sleek black hair. It was as if she was seeing the Greek God Apollo himself. . . But before she could think of anything else, their bodies bumped in contact.

"Oh, sor—" her sentence fell short. Ju-hee realized the placement of her hand on the lifeguard's firm chest, causing her to flush in embarrassment. She turned away and intertwined her fingers on her front as she stared at the mother and son to distract herself until the lifeguard finally walked away.

What the heck just happened to you, Ju-hee?! She scolded herself.

Min Byung-gyu had a deep love for the sea. It brought him peace and warmth. The sound of the waves splashing the shore was music to his ears, as well as the distant chirps of the soaring birds in the sky. His profession as a lifeguard gifted him that opportunity, but also being there to help someone in need as the sea could be more than just its beauty — it could be someone's biggest fear.

To be a lifeguard meant dedicating one's life to the safety of others, ensuring that everyone was safe on the beach while they enjoyed the sun. It brought him joy to see people having the time of their lives on the beach, enjoying the place as much as he did.

The wind carried a cool breeze as the sun was beginning to set. Byung-gyu dismissed his position from the lifeguard tower and brought his clean shirt along as he dismounted from the ladder. Some people had begun to retreat to their respective accommodations for a rest, and he too deserved a rest after watching the beach since sunrise.

Hmm, a historical movie? Maybe a box of ice cream or ramyeon on the side? He wondered.

Then, his eyes caught something. A young woman sat alone in a tree trunk, draped in a white cardigan that hung above her shorts. It took a second for Byung-gyu to remember her as the one whom he had bumped into earlier, and needless to say, she was pretty too — long, sleek ginger hair with fair skin, and striking blue eyes that bore semblance to the sea and sky.

He had never seen such beautiful eyes.

His footsteps began to make a beeline toward her, greeting. "Hey there, miss."

She looked up and their eyes instantly met. "Er, hello." The woman said.

"You seem all by yourself. Did you come alone to this beach?"

"Oh, no, I didn't." She kindly shook her head with a small smile. "I actually came with my friends. They're back at the cabin we are staying in, but I decided to head out and see the sunset. I've never seen the sun like this before in Seoul."

"You came for a vacation?"

She nodded. "Yep! Work has been tough ever since I graduated from med school."

"Med school? Congrats!" Byung-gyu smiled. "I used to study medicine too, also first aid, but I decided to pursue being a lifeguard."

"Really?"

"Yeah—" He paused, gesturing his hand on the spot next to her. "May I?"

"Sure."

Byung-gyu sat down and flashed her a smile then continued. "I like being at the beach. It's peaceful. And being a lifeguard has both of the two things I want to do — help people in need and the place itself."

"I understand the feeling," she smiled. "As much as I would love to live in a place like this, I still prefer to stay in the hospital where I can save lives."

"Impressive," he grinned. "Oh, I'm Min Byung-gyu, by the way."

"Lee Ju-hee."

Lee Ju-hee. He took note of it in his mind. "Beautiful name, Ms. Lee."

Her cheeks reddened. Identical to how he had seen her when her hand accidentally went to his chest. However, given the growing darkness in the sky, the color wasn't as prominent, but it did not stop Byung-gyu from chuckling.

"Have you seen that lifeguard over there? He looks cute!"

"Why is he staring at us?"

"No, he's not!" Ye-rim told Gina, who had a blunt expression on her face. She giggled. "He's looking at Ju-hee!"

"Wait, what?"

"Come again??" Both Bora and Hee-jin looked at Ye-rim in question.

Ju-hee, on the other hand, chose to ignore her friends and pretended she wasn't hearing anything. She proceeded to pad her hands across the water as she sat on the stone. The girls chattered amongst themselves, giggling even, and it made her roll her eyes in chagrin; who cares if Byung-gyu was staring at her? It could be that he was merely doing his job, watching over people at the sea.

"Watch this— Ju-hee! Wave your hand!" Ye-rim told her.

Ju-hee glared at her friend. "No."

"Come on. . . " Ye-rim pouted.

"Come on, Ju-hee! It's only a test." Hee-jin chimed in.

She sighed. No result would come out if she kept protesting and her friends nagging her. Ju-hee shifted on the stone and looked in the distance, noticing Byung-gyu from his seat at the tower. Her lips curled into a small smile and raised her hand to wave.

He reciprocated the gesture.

Her friends burst into squeals. Lee Bora began to splash her and Ju-hee used her hands to shield herself from the attacks, yet fully aware that her defenses were futile.

Ju-hee eventually left her friends and swam back to the shore. The waves rolled over her ankles as her feet left marks on the sand, she made her way to the deckchair where her and her friends' belongings had been kept. Grabbing her sheer cardigan, Ju-hee pulled it across her arms and tied the hem on the front of her stomach; her black halter bra could still be seen through the thin fabric, but she paid no mind and went for the long white sarong to knot around her waist.

"Hey!"

She turned around and smiled. "Byung-gyu."

"What's up? Your friends didn't tease you much, hm?" He snickered, lifting his sunglasses to his forehead. This time, he was shown in a grey compress shirt with the resort's logo.

Ju-hee scoffed. "Don't mind them. I just left because I am thirsty and craving coconut juice."

"Want me to accompany you?"

She flashed him a funny look. "Aren't you supposed to be on duty, Mr. Lifeguard?"

"I'm not the only lifeguard here," Byung-gyu rolled his eyes.

"Still. I can handle myself." Ju-hee winked at him. "Now, if you excuse me—"

"How about later?" Byung-gyu stepped in to block her path. "Sundown? After my shift?"

"Uh. . . What for?"

"A swim, perhaps? It's been a while since I swam without the intention of rescue." He shrugged. "C'mon! Unless you have other plans with your friends. . . "

She had. There was a band arriving at the beach for a small concert, Lee Bora urged everyone to go watch the live performance, and obviously, they all agreed to go. Ju-hee was also thrilled when she heard the news, she had been listening to the band for so long and knowing they would soon have a concert in the same place as her for free, it was like a chance of a lifetime.

But here she was. . . Min Byung-gyu just invited her to hang out with him.

This trip is about you and your friends only, Ju-hee. A voice spoke in her mind. You cannot simply break it just because a cute guy asked you out! Fight the urge—

"I'll see you then." Words inevitably came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Byung-gyu smiled widely. "Alright. Meet me at the shore?"

"O— okay." Ju-hee almost stammered. She quickly walked past him and her hands curled against her skirt, grasping for self-control, but her heartbeat pounded against her ribcage so fast to the point it could break through.

She couldn't believe she had chosen to ditch her friends and one of her favorite bands for a lifeguard.

Lee Ju-hee came up with a plan.

First, she would come along with her friends to the stadium where the band would be performing. Second, she would stick around for a few moments or songs until she came up with an excuse to leave the concert. Third, and lastly, she would meet up with Byung-gyu at the shore.

God knows what would happen if she told her friends that the guy they had been teasing her about was the reason. . .

People gathered at the stadium and several of them were already cheering for the band members even though the show hadn't officially started yet. Ju-hee squeezed through the crowd behind her friends as they searched for a good spot to view the stage.

The show finally began. The audience sang along as the group raised the lively atmosphere, encouraging everyone to dance to the music and feel the rhythm with them. But all Ju-hee could think of was Byung-gyu, wondering if he had already been waiting for her at the shore, she glanced at her friends, guilt nibbling in her chest as she was about to move on to her next step.

"Uh, Hee-jin?" She tapped her friend's shoulder. Hee-jin gave her a confused look, and judging the atmosphere around them, Ju-hee leaned up to whisper in her ear. "I don't feel good. Do you mind if I head back to the cabin and rest?"

Hee-jin frowned. "Aw, Ju-hee. . . "

"Sorry!"

"No, it's okay! It must be from what you ate earlier. Go, I'll record some videos for you, so you can see what you missed." Hee-jin encouraged her. "Just don't forget to take meds, alright?"

Ju-hee smiled. "Thank you."

Squeezing Hee-jin's hand in gratitude, Ju-hee left and snuck through the crowd of people to get to the exit. The noise faded from her eardrums as she walked farther, bringing relief to surge through her veins, followed by excitement.

She saw his silhouette where the waves touched the shore. Ju-hee took a deep breath and tucked a strand of her hair behind her hair as she approached him. The sky was painted in hues of purple, pink, and gold, as the sun was dipping from the horizon, casting a soft glow across the sea, and the waves whispered gently upon the shore.

The wind had grown colder, hinting at the arrival of the beautiful night. Ju-hee couldn't help but stare at the ethereal sight of the sea, shimmering under the last rays of sunlight, a magical and delicate mix between the farewell of day and the greetings of the evening.

"Byung-gyu." She finally spoke.

He whirled his head over his shoulder. "Ju-hee. Wow, you looked quite dressed."

"I was at the concert with my friends," she shrugged. She had a white blouse and a pretty black skirt, which swayed against her hips in the soft breeze. "But I planned to stay there for a while since I made a promise. You don't have to feel bad or anything, Byung-gyu, as it's completely my decision. It doesn't matter if I missed anything or not."

"Well, I won't be held responsible if you regretted anything from the concert," he flashed her a grin.

Ju-hee rolled her eyes. "I doubt I'd do."

Byung-gyu chuckled. He twitched his head as if in signal. "Come with me."

And so, she followed him. Ju-hee increased her pace to walk closely alongside Byung-gyu. Silence wrapped them like a blanket, comfortable and not a tinge of tension between them. . . Only a few inches separating their hands — Ju-hee noticed, but she suppressed the urge to link their fingers together. She wondered if his hands were warm, contrasting against the cold atmosphere, or soft enough when held.

She flinched upon realizing what she was thinking. Control your thoughts, Ju-hee.

Byung-gyu brought her to an area behind the large stone on the shore, revealing a stone path toward the sea. Waves crashed against the rocks with a harmonic, soothing cadence, yet harder than in the sand. As Ju-hee observed it, she suddenly caught Byung-gyu in the middle of taking his shirt off. . . But it was too late for her to look away now. The fading sunlight traced the fine contours of shoulders, subtly glowing down to the evident muscles in his arms and his torso.

Tossing his shirt aside, Byung-gyu sprinted forward and lunged for a dive into the sea, staying underneath for a few seconds before submerging. He released a quick gasp and ran his hands to his hair, sweeping it to the back of his neck.

"You can sit over here since I forgot to tell you to bring spare clothes." He pointed at the rock near them. Byung-gyu moved his hand to the back of his neck bashfully. "My bad."

"Don't worry, I— uh, I am actually wearing a swimsuit underneath." She blushed. "Just in case!"

Byung-gyu smiled. "Alright then."

To her surprise, he turned around to let her take off her clothes. Ju-hee's heart fluttered, knowing she'd be completely uncomfortable if someone watched her strip clothes, and since he had given her space, it made her feel some things.

Ju-hee slipped out from her sandals and discarded her blouse and skirt together on the ground, leaving her in a halterneck swimsuit she had worn on her first swim at the beach. She held onto the rock as she carefully stepped down on the stone beneath her feet, the water increased to her chest-length when she padded toward Byung-gyu, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hey," he told her softly. "So, wanna let me show you something?"

"What is it?"

"It's one of the things I learned when I was training to be a lifeguard. Do you know how to float?"

"Uh. . . No, I do not."

"Good. In situations when a person is found drowning, we usually tow them to safety and make sure their throat is protected. Here, let me—" he waded closer to her and extended his arms. "Don't worry, I'll be holding you the entire time."

In a bated breath, Ju-hee grasped onto his forearms, her nails digging into his skin as he began to wade through the water, away from the shore.

"S— shit—" she cursed, no longer feeling the stones under her feet.

"Hey, hey, it's alright! I got you." Byung-gyu's soothing voice exuded through her senses. His thumbs rubbed her soft skin in reassurance. Ju-hee jutted her chin forward to keep the water's surface from rising higher, somehow struggling as she had nothing to stand upon, only relying on the man in front of her for dear life. "Now, let the water carry you. Float."

"H— how?"

Byung-gyu shook his head and changed his position, shifting to the other side. Ju-hee instantly clung her arms to his neck, watching him move gently until she felt his hand under her legs, lifting her weight to the surface. She didn't fight against it anymore and allowed herself to be light.

"Just relax," he whispered. "It will be easier for the water to carry you if you're calm. Simply put, the sea will treat you the way you treat it — if you panic, it'll bring you down. But if you're calm and trust the waves, the sea will take care of you."

Ju-hee nodded. His hand glided away and her legs remained afloat. His touch returned to her forearm, finding herself relaxing for once. She exhaled softly through her nostrils.

"See? With conscious victims, we try to calm them down first, earning their trust and reassuring them that they'll be saved." Byung-gyu explained. "The only time we take desperate measures is if the victim keeps panicking. But in your case, you have done well."

"Have you—" she swallowed to keep her voice steady. "Have you done this with someone else? Just curious."

"Nope."

"Really? Are you not joking? As in, not at all, Byung-gyu?"

"Uh, why should I lie?" Byung-gyu raised an eyebrow. Then, he let out a smirk. "What would you do if I said yes?"

Ju-hee glared at him deadly. "I don't hang out with guys who like to entertain multiple girls, Byung-gyu."

"It's the truth! Don't tell me you strike me that way, Ju-hee. I'm anything but that — my mom raised me to be a gentleman."

"Fine," she grumbled. "The way you act seems like you easily capture attention from ladies. Charming them effortlessly and all that."

"Lee Ju-hee, do you find me attractive?" Byung-gyu jested. "If that's the case, then I have successfully captured your attention, yes?"

Ju-hee turned away, choosing not to respond. She didn't know if she could give him the obvious answer — yes, right the second you showed up! Her heart screamed. She came for a vacation, to build new happy memories, not to find herself infatuated with someone. . . But heavens, all it had to take was a mere lifeguard to sway her off her feet.

"You intrigue me, you know?" He murmured. The way his breath was close to her ear brought shivers down her spine, causing her to tremble "It's like in historical dramas, you're a princess who hailed from a wealthy kingdom who wished to break free from responsibilities and choose her happiness for once."

"How accurate."

"It really is," he chuckled. "So it's no wonder why I found myself drawn to you."

Same here. Butterflies swarmed her stomach. She sighed. "I won't stay long here. After this night, I'll be leaving with my friends to go back to the city."

"I see no problem with that." Ju-hee opened her mouth to protest and Byung-gyu cut her off. "I'll leave my number in a sticky note next to your cabin's door for you to see once you leave."

"Byung-gyu. . . "

"Hm?"

Ju-hee ended up shaking her head. "Nothing. Let's swim instead of lingering here."

She brought down her legs and languidly turned around, trailing her hands across his shoulders. A rosemary scent wafted to her nose, mixed with a salty undertone and coconut. Her heart almost skipped a beat when he held her waist, though Ju-hee masked it with a confident look, letting out a giggle, and plunged down past him, dragging his hand along with her. Byung-gyu easily joined her under the currents, entering a world of their own where nobody could see them, hands linked and hearts intertwined.

It was a moment Ju-hee would never forget. There had been a lot of memories formed at the beach, but the ones with Byung-gyu were her favorite.

"Boy, are we really leaving already?" Ye-rim sighed, zipping her bag closed. "I don't want to go back to work just yet. . . "

Hee-jin laughed. "Relax, Ye-rim. We'll go back soon."

"Unless you want to lose your job," Gina joked. "Just think that these past two days have been a blast!"

"Next time, we'll take a leave for a week. Oh! Should we look for a new resort?" Lee Bora piped up. "This one looks so beautiful, but I want to travel more!"

"Sounds like a great idea! What do you— where are you going, Ju-hee?"

"I'll just be heading out for a bit," said Ju-hee, making her way to the door. She pulled the knob open and looked around until her eyes fell on a small box on the floor.

Smiling, she made her way over and peeled the paper from the top; it had the written contact number of Byung-gyu and a small note that read 'don't forget me! ;) hope you'll like the present I got for you inside the box.'. Ju-hee glanced at the box and took the lid open, causing her eyes to widen at the sight of its content.

A big, beautiful seashell nestled upon a clustered chiffon fabric. Shades of nacreous white blended perfectly with pinks and soft streaks of lavender. It gleamed under the sunlight, highlighting its polished texture created by the ocean; a natural masterpiece. The ridges extended across the surface and the curves inwardly rolled inside of the shell, adding depth to its magnificent form, as well as seashell's spiraled edge — sprinkled with brown specks — to complete the overall essence.

Ju-hee parted her lips in surprise, holding a beautiful seashell as big as this felt as if a gemstone was in her hands. She stood up and glanced at the distance, catching none other than Min Byung-gyu himself. He wore that crooked grin on his face whilst his sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes from the stark sunlight, and his hand held a life buoy by his hip.

Another lifeguard approached him, nudging him to the sea as if ushering him to get to work. Ju-hee chuckled, tucking the seashell closer to her, giving it a light squeeze. She could only hope for fate to bring her and Byung-gyu together soon, if not, one day.

And if that day ever came, Ju-hee wouldn't mind having another swim with him.

#a ficlet inspired by the beach theme in the game!#oh cool perfect timing it's byung-gyu's bday too #solo leveling #min byung gyu #lee ju hee #minlee #rei scribbles

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