#a man who never wanted to even become a lord. yet he's accepting his fate as leader of these people

[orcelito]

Feeling many things about Dohalim on this day

[missglaskin]

Yan!Great Bastards/Targs house (Platonic) HCS

Characters-Aegon IV, Naerys, Aemon (mention), Daeron II, Daenerys, Daemon Blackfyre, Shiera, Aegor, Brynden

Note; reader is adopted and female, mostly platonic but some relationships can be interpreted. The timeline is inaccurate/messy

Ever since Aegon brought you to court, many whispers assumed you must have been a bastard of his. Yet there was a lack of any sign that the blood of old Valyria coursed through your veins. It also didn't help that there were whispers claiming you already had a family of your own, adding to the uncertainty surrounding their fate. Still, even with doubt, the lord and ladies accept Aegon's claims.

Aegon has kept you close ever since you arrived at court. He has proven to be a man of envy, despising the thought of anyone else stealing your time and attention from him. Despite his best efforts to keep you to himself, Naerys and Aemon were still able to become quite involved in your life.

You quickly won the favor of Naerys, as she would spend alone time with you at any given chance. It's her who also gave you and Daeron and Daenerys the opportunity to finally meet. With Naerys, you can come to expect that she'll hand you clothes that she herself embroidered and sewed.

With you around, Aegon treats Naerys with a little more decency. Aegon is a man who seeks praise and validation, so noticing your frown and distant demeanor in the way he treats Naerys will hurt him just a little. Unbeknownst to you, it only deepens Daeron and Aemon's attachment to seeing you care for Naerys.

Aemon is the last person Aegon ever wants to see you bond with. There is considerable conflict between the brothers, whether it's believed to be over Naerys or the allegations regarding Daeron's legitimacy. The more Aemon spends his time with you, the more bitterly Aegon feels toward his brother.

Daeron, along with Aemon and Naerys, is possibly the most "normal" out of the family. He treats you with such tenderness and care—it's impossible not to warm up to him. Given that his father brought you to court and paraded you around, you initially assume that Daeron would harbor some resentment. But all Daeron's eyes convey is warmth.

Daeron and you are told to spend most of the day together whenever you could, either playing cyvasse, going for a walk in the gardens, or having dinner together. Aegon didn't give much thought if you chose to carry out your princess responsibilities, but Daeron and Naerys did. They had you be taught how to dance, courtesy, and embroidery while he wasn’t around. 

Aemon would always try to accompany you, either walking you to your chambers or through the gardens. He guards you with the same degree of vigilance that he does with Daeron and Naerys, stepping in to help if he notices you in distress. He also permits you to go horseback riding if you choose, as Aegon never lets you.

These are rare moments in between, as Aegon immediately steals you away to his usual spot by his side. As has been said, Aegon was a demanding man. He anticipates your unceasing praise, telling you of something "nice" he has done for Naerys or giving you a gift just to see you smile. It was best for you to pretend he's the favorite of the family.

When Daeron wed Myriah Martell, both of you grew quickly fond of each other. As expected, Aegon did not like the little friendship you developed. When the two soon introduced Baelor (Breakpear) to the court, they made you among the first to hold him. Daeron couldn’t help but smile as he watched you interact with his baby son. Little Baelor was often used as an excuse for Daeron and Myriah to take you away.

While you were very attached to Daeron, he was older (and very busy), so you spent your free time with (Aegon ofc), the ladies of the court and most of all with Daemon and Daenerys. Rumors occasionally circulated that you were spotted in the gardens, showing young Daenerys the lovely view of the flowers with Daemon watching you both from afar.

The tranquil realm Viserys ruled over quickly came to an end when he passed away. Aegon, the fourth of his name, soon sat the throne. The moment the crown was put the crown on his head, the dynamics of the family were entirely shifted. Aegon’s first act was to ensure you were legitimized before the whole court. Giving you the name Targaryen was probably the only time the family came together. 

If possible, Aegon’s treatment of his son and brother worsened. Any disputes he had with Aemon led to the king forbidding his brother from ever speaking to you. It wasn’t beneath him to threaten Daeron with the same thing as well.

As king, Aegon publicly had numerous mistresses. Who all knew to get on your good side as Aegon was persuaded by your opinion. It was told how much he liked a mistress by how much he allowed her to interact with you.  Falena Stokeworth, Jeyne Lothson, Bethany Bracken, and Sereni of Lys were among the familiar faces. You even bonded with their bastards, which one is compelled to believe is a jab at his son.

The court also knew to get on your side; after all, it wasn’t filled with noble or wise men, but those who flatter and amuse. It’s said that if one made you laugh, it was enough reason for Aegon to gift them land.

Aegon always showered you with gifts, but as king, he made sure you were the best dressed at court. From silks taken from Qarth to being showered with all sorts of jewelry—diamonds, gold, rubies, and pearls. And if you asked for it, he would gladly name hills, mountains, and even castles after you.

Aegon assumed that with all he had done for you, you would always be on his side. So one can imagine his fury when rumors of Naerys’s adultery and Daeron’s legitimacy were whispered among the court, and you took his wife and son’s side. Even more when you seemed to admire his brother for defending the queen’s honor.

It was a tragedy when Aemon’s life was taken when he stepped in between the king and his assassin. His death sent Naerys into grief. And while you were grieving for Aemon, you had to also grieve for Naerys as she soon followed him to her grave. Aegon pretended to comfort you, but secretly, in all his selfishness, he was glad to have some competition taken out. 

Daenerys already saw you as her sister, but with her mother’s death, it only made her cling to you far more and made the two of you closer than ever. You did always have a way of cheering her up. In the evenings, either one of you would sneak into each other’s bedchambers just to spend time conversing. 

Daenerys loved when you would do her hair, sending away any of her handmaidens to do it instead. Even when you think you did a poor job, Dany was quick to compliment you. She was affectionate in general, embracing you either when she greeted you or when she said her goodbyes.

With Naerys and Aemon dead, Aegon continued spreading the rumors of his son’s illegitimacy, and tried getting you on his side more than once. But it only made him despise his son more seeing your intense loyalty towards him. Made worse with the queen dead, the mistresses were far more bold, pushing their children to get closer to you as a way to gain more favor in court. 

Aegor was the first to catch your attention. Even as a child, his protectiveness and possessive were evident to the whole court. If it wasn’t your father pushing away the other children, it was Aegor. In his eyes, Aegor saw you as a sweet thing to be protected, and he was willing to do anything you asked of him.

He was easily jealous and bitter of anyone taking your attention away from him. Whether it’s your lady friends, to which Aegor stands in the corner glaring at them, or Daenerys, who’s having some tea time with you. Worst of all, his anger was all directed towards Daeron to which Aegor had to hold himself from lunging at the prince whenever Daeron took you away from Aegor.

Though there’s no bigger rival to Aegon until Brynden comes into the picture. Between the half-brothers, there’s no familiarity. Not only do their houses hold a long rivalry that passes generations but Aegor’s mother was passed over by Brynden’s.

Aegon allowed you not only to know Melissa Blackwood but also to become familiar with her three children: Myra, Gwenys, and Brynden. Aegor hated how Brynden seemed to easily catch your attention. You didn’t notice the way Brynden slowly inserted himself into your little friend group with his sisters. And when you add Shiera to the mix, Aegor only grew to loathe Brynden more.

As said, while Aegor is more aggressive and demanding, Brynden is much more subtle. He has a way of getting you to open up to him, and he is a great listener, remembering every little bit. Brynden also seems to have a knack for noticing the little details from your rings to your headpieces. 

But like Aegor, Brynden is also a jealous man. You have no idea how many he has sent away, whispering doubts into your ears about the "suspicious" acts of your lady friends. Even as a child, Brynden had a way of pulling the strings and somehow he knew all there was to know. 

Shiera takes any opportunity to steal you away, locking arms as she guides you away when the two half-brothers are at each other’s throats. She would spend many hours with you if she could, listening to your sweet voice. One of her favorite things to do is get you ready for feasts in your chambers; she is fond of ivory and lace and incorporates it into your style as well.

Though none of Aegon’s bastards are closer to you than Daemon Waters. You would usually catch him in the corner of your eye, and you didn’t mind his company with how nicely he treated you. Giving you advice when needed, complimenting your dress, or gently tucking anything in place.

He was your father’s (second) favorite, and it’s evident in how he allowed Daemon the privilege to become closer to you. History remembers all too well when he handed Daemon ‘Blackfyre,’ but what history doesn’t know is that it secretly made Daemon feel as if he’s more worthy of your attention.

As expected from an Heir, Daeron resided in Dragonstone for a few years. He promised to exchange ravens and he kept to his word. As much as Daeron missed you terribly and desired nothing more than to bring you along, he knew his father’s answer. 

The more Aegon sat on the throne, the more your seat was right to next to it; a little throne of your own, one made comfortable instead of his. It was the last years that made Aegon actually never leave your side, not even Daemon could interact all that much with you. 

When Aegon’s reign ended, he demanded you to be on his side as spent his last moments on his deathbed. And it made you a witness to his last decree: legitimizing all his great bastards; a last spite against Daeron.

Upon learning of his father’s death, you and Daeron reunited once more, a happy moment instantly overshadowed by the realization that Daeron must do his supposed duty, crowning himself with you as his witness. He spent his time repairing all the damage his father did. Daeron would go as far as to include you in the council, and like his father, would look forward to your advice, but unlike his father, he can choose to make his own decisions.

Daenerys being sent off to Dorne was upsetting for both of you. You both promised to exchange letters and gifts. Dany would send letters detailing her time in Dorne, how she grew fond of the place and the people, but that she missed home and, most of all, she missed you. Daeron made promises to have you visit her, but secretly the two of you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Daemon and the rest of the bastards being legitimized was an incident that made everyone hold their breath; they all knew the consequences of doing such a thing. But for now, it seemed as if not much had changed. Daemon took the name ‘Blackfyre’, and he and the rest were strangely treated well by Daeron and allowed at court.

With Aegon no longer around, they were all allowed to spend time that they could not have. A secret among everyone was that it was a relief Aegon’s passed. Daeron, of course, had more authority than anyone else, but he strangely did not hold his father’s intense possessiveness and jealousy, and the same went for Myriah, who treated you so well and convinced her husband to give you some freedom.

It meant you were permitted to be entertained in court as much as you wanted. Dancing with the other lords and ladies even if it led Daemon and Shiera taking all of your time.

You were also permitted the freedom to attend many dramatic performances and the jousting where many men competed for your hand. But something that Daeron and all the others agreed on: was that you were off limits.

While Daemon sat well in court, it was Aegor who whispered things to his ear. Aegon’s intense envy and bitterness never dissipated; if anything, he found himself resenting Daeron more and more over the years. He thought while the king presented smiles and courtesy when taking you away, he assumed the king was a fox behind a sheep’s clothing wanting you all to himself.

And we can assume the resentment never stopped towards Brynden. Not only did he take the woman he loved, Aegor is forced to share you with the man he hates more than anything. Brynden gives him passing looks that Aegor knows all too well what it means. But a sight that makes him clenches his fists is watching you read with Shiera and Brynden, sitting too closely between the two of them.

Family dinners, while on the surface seem nice,  all the servants and the guards could feel the tensions rising. You are obviously seated next to the king, or at times seated next to Myriah. They all exchange pleasantries, but one can notice the glare Aegor gives when Brynden speaks to you, how Shiera and Daemon tend to only seek you out in conversations. How the rest tense when you compliment or thank one of them. 

And while everything seems pleasant at the moment, it no longer does when Daemon Blackfyre announces himself as the rightful king with Aegor on his side. When Daeron has you locked in your chambers or has guards watching your every move for your safety, but most of all to ensure you are not taken under his nose.

Shiera and Brynden who take Daeron’s side reassure they all want the best for you. There is a war brewing between the family and everyone is well aware you are stuck in the middle.

[the-tomato-patch]

The Hand that Yearns For You

Summary:

"Scourge, his agent, and Wrath had personally seen his death. The Force sang of the finality of that moment in a way that could only be fully understood in hindsight, and it mourned his passing equally. It would take generations for the Force to truly accept and settle once more, and then it would take longer to fill the vacuum." Scourge struggles with the concept of freedom and wonders where he will go now that his three hundred year burden is over.

Pairing:

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( Pre-relationship )

Word Count:

3.3k+

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50967205/chapters/128763724

Chapter 1.

The void left in the wake of the Emperor's true defeat was staggering. Scourge had expected it to feel like when he had killed Darth Xedrix or witnessed the fall of Darth Nyriss. However, this felt far more profound and substantial. The Emperor had been a singular entity of pure terror throughout the entire galaxy—someone who had been a part of the galactic subconscious as far back as he could remember. Not a man. Not a Sith. A near-omnipresent outlier. Scourge, his agent, and Wrath had personally seen his death. The Force sang of the finality of that moment in a way that could only be fully understood in hindsight, and it mourned his passing equally. It would take generations for the Force to truly accept and settle once more, and then it would take longer to fill the vacuum.

For the first half of his life, Scourge had regarded the Emperor as a sort of god, lost in a realm all his own. He had been too busy to heed the monotony of the conniving sycophants at his feet. In the latter years, he had dedicated himself to a relentless pursuit, meticulously scheming and patiently biding his time for the fateful moment when he would lay eyes upon the Jedi from his vision and strike. Now, with the Emperor's existence extinguished, an unmistakable sensation rippled through the Force in the aftermath of his passing.

As much as Scourge had dreamed of and prepared for this day, he had never really thought about what he would do after the Emperor had fallen. His entire life's purpose had been fulfilled. All of his plans and machinations had led up to this point. From a time before, in the darkest corners of his heart, he had even wished for his own life to end after the Emperor fell. He had wanted to feel the balm of immortality slip away like grit and die in battle. He had desired to know the taste of his own blood on his tongue, watch as the fires in the sky danced over the field of corpses left in his wake, and revel in the song of rage and hatred as the dark side filled his senses. Now, he knew that such ideas had been a mistake. No one really understands their value until they come within arm's length and can pluck at the strands of time with their own hands. Even at their weakest and lowest points, they remain constant, a tether that holds them secure to what they once were and might still be. Those dreams of death were washed away by a new one, one that appeared only now that the path was clear. A longing for life.

It left him brooding, wanting something he didn't know. It wasn't often that he found himself brooding about aspects of his past or considering paths he might take in the future. Yet here he was, deep in thought regarding his own self-reflection. He tried to will his consciousness to return to the present, but the thoughts that weighed so heavily on his mind came back to him as soon as the silence engulfed his immediate surroundings.

He'd been like this all day, sitting still, waiting, brooding. Always brooding in the corvette's hull. It took a great deal of his patience not to just throw something across the room or punch a nearby wall. The Emperor was dead, and instead of celebrating, he had become a ruminating mess. How uncharacteristic and pedestrian. If the circumstances had been any different, Scourge might have scoffed at the thought. Instead, he opted to glow angrily at himself, rolling his shoulders to try and shake the stiffness out of them, only to be left with the familiar tingle of a damaged nerve. Staring out toward nothing, his eyes seemed to zone out a bit as he let the thoughts flow unchecked. He could almost feel the sting and burn of the lightning that had nearly cooked him in his own armor—the molten heat of a saber bearing down upon his shoulder, a parting gift from the new Wrath, his replacement, and an unfortunate lesson regarding his new mortality.

Then he felt it, her presence resonating in the Force, announcing her approach long before her footsteps did. "You haven't moved in three days," Rhiasen spoke with a touch of concern. "You've barely spoken." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the doorway. "Normally you have some kind of quip at my expense, but today you're particularly grim."

"There's nothing to discuss," his tone dismissive. "I am thinking. That's all. There is no need to fret; your fragile ego is safe."

"You can talk to me," she sighed and picked up the cheek she'd been resting against the doorframe, carefully stepping forward, as if entering the den of a krayt dragon. Despite the barb thrown her way, her tone and gaze carried warmth, as they usually did when she looked at him. "After everything," the word punctuated. "I'd like to think you can come to me. Don't pretend to be immune to feeling." She straightened up and came in a few steps further. "We've fought alongside each other for what feels like a lifetime. The Force connected us before our meeting and still remains. Whatever happens or needs to be discussed...you won't lose me over it."

There was a pause between them where the only sounds to fill the space were the mechanical whine of the engines and the occasional hiss of an environmental filter refreshing the recycled air. It was not fear, nor worry; it was indecision, hesitation, and a lack of direction. The power of choice, it seemed, had crippled his senses rather than liberated them. For once in his life, the choices of others didn't rule his actions or drive his will. There was no external force to guide his life along its set path; it was his to control and steer in the light of his choice. He could feel its effect and how deeply rooted it was. Centuries, if not an eternity, and suddenly he was without an agenda.

Scourge clenched his teeth in frustration. A fleeting surge of rage crossed the dark plains of his mind, and then his head snapped up to her, browstalks furrowing with annoyance, his tone aggressive. "I do not require coddling. I am not your burden. Return to your meditations; I will say no more of it." His hand rose slowly and dismissed the topic, punctuating his need to end this conversation before it started.

Scourge recalled when he'd first experienced true anger after centuries without. He'd felt like an untrained acolyte lost within the halls of the academy, lashing out and failing to contain the vortex of the dark side he had once wielded so easily, as though he had spent far too many decades knowing the structure of the storm but no longer its core. He knew its shape, its nature and gale, but failed to experience the passions behind it. Now he was faced with something akin to a storm of another kind. Yet it was the same dilemma, just expressed in a different, more direct, less tactile fashion, in a form that Scourge was much less familiar with and wasn't able to see and interpret coherently, not when his logic and reason had abandoned him in exchange for unruly behavior unbefitting a Sith of his station and character.

He experienced this rush and more in just a couple of seconds, 'Focus,' his mind pleaded with his body, 'Find the center, channel this through the Force.'

Her expression faltered into a look of concern, and his ire intensified. "Scourge-"

"Must you press? Let me come to terms with myself; I've come this far," he spat. "Do not treat me with pity."

"Pity?" she said defensively. "I would have hoped by now you realized there are deeper and far more profound things inside me than pity when it comes to you."

His head dipped, and he collected himself. The frustration on his face ebbed away like the last trickling ripples of an otherwise impulsive outburst. He looked back up, a dull glow of heat across his face. "I," he faltered momentarily, a heaviness lingering over him. "I need time."

The words hung in the air before she finally ceded. When he calmed, he could see the war in her eyes as Rhiasen contemplated his rejection with a sad expression. Then, with no indication beyond her tightened jawline, she shook her head, turned, and walked away. She was gone, disappearing through the door, leaving him to his own devices once more.

The exchange hung in his head. Scourge didn't think about anything for a while, instead remaining stationary in the room, allowing his mind a chance to simply process and not act or respond. His mouth felt dry; his nerves felt on fire; and he couldn't pinpoint a source to help alleviate his sudden anxieties. He remained staring forward for quite some time, caught in the same contemplative limbo that had kept him trapped in the same spot for the better part of the day until he was drawn back out as they landed on Odessen. 

It was early morning by then as the sun began to peek up over the mountainous terrain the Alliance base was located. The horizon line had a dark, nearly blood-red tint to it, accompanied by the amber orange and the smudges of faint cyan along its crown. It felt strange being outside; he'd been in the corvette for days, so the change was jarring yet refreshing as he and their small crew walked down the ramp. The cool air helped center him, and he took a moment to glance around, catching a glimpse of Rhiasen out of the corner of his eye, moving swiftly through the small crowd forming in the center of the docking bay, which Scourge deduced were primarily other supply shuttles and a few Alliance personnel returning home in the morning, all hurrying off to their places and tasks. This was an opportunity to busy himself, to fall back into a sense of order and discipline to pull his mind off whatever thoughts might still be gnawing at it like an akk dog on a bone.

'To business then.'

Events of the day flew by in organized chaos as Scourge stepped into the familiar rhythm he used to settle into following the Alliance's victory over the Emperor. This was where he thrived, doing things he did not need to dwell upon. The tactical and planning elements were far better for his mood. However, it did not last forever, and soon enough he was no longer in a rush to keep his mind and senses distracted. Scourge didn't appear anxious anymore; his body seemed almost calm. But if anyone had bothered to peer beneath the surface, they would have been able to see him thinking. It was a little different from the state of repose he had taken to just that morning in the corvette when he'd stared idly and brooded. A distraction was no longer an immediate need, and his attention focused.

Yet still, his thoughts lingered. And he fell back to his conversation with Rhiasen on the corvette. It weighed on him; not with a pressing discomfort or despair; the way it had initially when he'd arrived back on base, but more as a consistent nagging, a soft sting rather than a sharp edge. He said 'I need time.' but for what? More brooding, more idle standing? Was he not a man of action, of decisive measure and words, with conviction and clarity, all directed through the guidance of a plan and a will that he rarely, if ever, faltered from. 

The Emperor, Vitiate, whatever his name.. was dead and his immortality gone and here he stood wasting his newfound freedoms, though daunting they were. What was keeping him back? Had the wounds left by the Emperor and his reign truly kept his heart in the iron grasp it had been under for centuries. He scoffed, a feeling of disgust coming over him; a denial to admit that he was letting the past dictate his actions. And yet, even still, despite these revelations he couldn't convince his body to move, and in the evening, when he wandered his way to his new favored brooding spot upon one of the adjacent balconies of the Alliance base, only a stone's throw away from his own quarters, did he find that he no longer felt an urge to deny the reality. Perhaps that is where he was going, where his actions were pushing him toward.

He couldn't sleep. Not like this. Scourge considered meditation, but decided that even the repetition that came with it was more mental strain than he cared for at the present. For several moments, he just stood and stared into the night. He'd forgotten how beautiful the view was when the rest of the planet slept. The brilliant and vibrant greens of the forests in the distance seemed to carry their own radiance and glimmer in the way they absorbed the moonlight. Their foliage glowed as the breeze wafted through, leaves and branches rustling in a low howl. The sky itself was nearly black and bore countless pinpoints of light that dotted the expanse in a sea of blue, green, and white. Above him stretched nebulous ribbons of the galaxy. He imagined reaching out and touching each celestial body that hung overhead; they almost seemed to close together in a vast sphere surrounding him, a crystal orb where the galaxy's secrets lay waiting for his discovery. Scourge took a breath in, the air cool and clean in his lungs, carrying the faint scent of pine. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders and chest going with his breath, and with that, his heart settled.

Discover. 

That had been his intention after the Emperor's fall, not to muddle about, waiting in some unknown place while others went on without him. While his feet were no longer as firm and solid as they had once been, there was still no shortage of purpose. In this new state of clarity, he let his mind wander a bit, trying to see what was left on his heart's path and in what direction it pointed. That simple lingering thought of wanderlust gave him pause, and a series of memories seemed to bring with it a guiding pull, and the truth of it was simple enough. They may have called it a return, but his only destination was forward, and he'd waited long enough. He would see the galaxy and all that it had to share; the beauty and the tragedy, the vast wonder and the heartbreaking scorn, the depth of its creatures and its horrors. These things could only be known firsthand, and he would have them. To live freely was something he'd never known before, not even when he was free. The chains of Sith politics, the intricacies of their society built upon the backs of slaves, and the formalities of deception. It felt as though the ghost of himself was moving past him, beckoning him to chase, beckoning him toward the future.

The moment didn't last too long. Another bout of trepidation that kept his heart rooted in place. As soon as the spark of newfound motivation flared, apprehension appeared to sputter it out and drown out the light, not unlike sinking into a sarlacc pit. He wondered if this would happen again, if this was normal. Surely it would, and he wouldn't be free of it entirely, but maybe it was less to do with the hesitancy he felt in wanting to travel and more in something that still tethered him here. More than just remaining responsibilities.

His thoughts wandered to the crew. Scourge had never thought he'd one day consider a group of fools such as them to be an almost familial force. Maybe not Kimble entirely. But the others... Rusk, Kira, T7, Rhiasen. He mused. A fondness and sense of respect for each of them lingered. How easy it would be to just take his leave and walk away, and yet how hard that path was at the same time.

Rhiasen. 

There, just there in his heart he felt the tug again, a tiny but persistent twinge of resistance. It seemed she was always at his heart. A presence, a pulse, that never really wavered no matter where their journey had taken them. Since their first meeting on Quesh, to her silhouette cutting through the Force in his mind's eye for the last three hundred years, she was always just... there. Constant. Sometimes far more insistent than others. It didn't bother him, and he never really speculated her hold on him all these years outside of their destined alliance in their race against galactic extinction at the hands of the Emperor. The intensity of her will in the Force was stronger than the pull he used to feel before they met. They were inextricably bonded by their connection in the Force. Where she went, his path was bound. But if he should choose to wander, would she follow?

There, a seed of doubt that led to another epiphany. The conflict between his needs for the now, versus his desires and longing in the future, tugged on the fabric of his heart. He still had the lingering desire to experience his own freedom and choice, and to continue to let go of his ties with the past. But there, in the back of his mind, it dawned on him that he didn't know what he wanted out of the future, only that he knew what he didn't want, and a great deal of that included not wanting to leave behind what close ties he'd made along this alliance of necessity. He wanted to bear the burden of Kira's sharp quips that left him pinching his brow in annoyance. He yearned to engage in another debate about the strengths of Imperial military tactics versus those of the Republic, knowing it would leave the Chagrian simmering with frustration beneath his edged scowl. And he even desired to narrow his eyes in amusement at T7's exaggerated reactions, irritating yet charming as they were. But above all, he wished to stay by Rhiasen's side.

He'd watched her come and go from his life, their separation that occurred only after she'd barreled headfirst into a fleet of unknown ships with Darth Marr. Seven years, seven long, tumultuous years with no knowledge of her fate. Even when the rumors arose and he could feel her presence through the Force he knew little, could do little, and remained stalwart in cutting a war path to the Emperor's true body, accompanied by Kira and the ghost of an old ally, Revan. Then came their dramatic reunion, where he'd met the other Wrath, and had nearly met his end so soon after reclaiming his mortality. She saved him then, too. Just as she always had in their own unique, unconventional ways. If he ever wanted his freedom, it would need to be by her side. There was no question, no hesitation. All his time was hers, for as long as she'd have him. The future could no longer be seen clearly. No further certainty existed, and it was time he became alright with that. He was free, and there would be a day where he would pursue his life in the stars. But for now he would stay, and watch that path unfold before him. It was what he wanted, he told himself. He did not seek the promise of the stars without her. And the force of his feelings both startled and baffled him. He wondered then, perhaps, if he wasn't alone in these sentiments

[the-crow-binary]

Top 5 reasons Mactor is secretly best ship? :3

5. Yes.

4. It's our two respective blorbos kissing LIKE HOW CAN IT GO MORE PEAK THAN THAT. WE'RE LITERALLY JUST TAKING EACH OUR FAVORITE DOLLS AND MAKING THEM HOLD HANDS. THAT'S WHY BEST SHIP IDC.

3. They have no one but each other (well, in the "Mathias somehow ended up in pre-CV3 Castlevania" scenario, at lest), Mathias for the obvious reason that he knows no one and everyone is evil and wicked ESPECIALLY Dracula and the only person to be nice to him is Hector, and Hector because he slowly start to realise how not okay his relationship with Dracula is, and Isaac hates him, and no one else in the Castle is trustworthy, there's no one he could call a "friend" anymore. And it makes them cling to each other more. They're a healthy and actually "good" version of Hecula and it's cute but also it HURTS because EVEN THEN THEY CAN NEVER BE TOGETHER BECAUSE LORE AND CANON AND MATHIAS HAS TO GO HOME EVENTUALLY AND HECTOR CANNOT FOLLOW AND MATHIAS WILL BECOME DRACULA ANYWAY AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PAIN.

2. Lord/Knight relationship mixed with pious man/sinner who worships the pious man more than he would ever worship God himself relationship, wich offer such a delicious dynamic <3 The knight who's whole life and skills are based on sinning against God, who he has only disdain for. And yet he choses to follow and protect a man who's whole life revolves around SERVING God. And the Lord respects the knight for his skills and passion and devotion, even though he doesn't entirely agree with him. And the knight doesn't agree with his vision of God but he accepts it because what matters to him is his Lord as a person, and his Lord is the only God he is willing to follow (almost) blindly. There's something magnetic attracting them to the other. They're literally so cool I LOVE THEM also. they're kinky af.

1. They're literally made for each other. Both linked to Dracula in a particular way (him from the past/him if he didn't let his anger and grief take the best of him :) ), they both have this tendency to not get attached to many people, but damn, when they do get attached, they get A-TTACHED. "I would kill and die for you" KIND OF ATTACHED. They share a passion for alchemy, Hector actually studied from Mathias and the Cronqvist family's books, so it makes their relationship extra special <3 Hector needs someone to worship and dedicate his life to, Mathias feel like he shouldn't like that but he is weaker than he likes to admit <3 (taking God's place is a sin, he's pretty sure. but hey, it's not like he can change Hector, so, might as well :)) They both admire the other in some way. Mathias is the brain, Hector the brawn, so they complete each other too... so many ways in wish they can make you go "ah, yes, those two are literally soulmates <3" even reasons i didn't mention because little brain forgot at the moment BUT STILL (also depending on wich version of Mactor it is... They can bond over their hatred and grief after their respective wives died :) And it can lead them to bring each other even deeper in hell, instead of lifting each other up like in a pre-wives death Mactor scenario <3). It all hurts even more when you think about the fact they are doomed from the start. Never meant to stay together forever. :') Fated to separate at one point, wether they want to or not. :') (but scratch that i want to imagine Hector going with Mathias to his era and them and Leon forming a raw gay sex polycule and be happy)

So yeah, the them <3 The “God has never once shown that he cares about me, therefore he is not my Lord. You are.” them <3 The "Please, i am begging you, don't let go of me" them <3 The "I don't like who you worship/serve but I cannot get enough of you" them <3 I cannot wait for someone to release a fic showing how peak they are :)

[adora-or-artemis]

A change of fate

Summery: Dionysus warns percy, percy thinks he lost his chance until she has a talk with artemis

Chapter: 1/?

Words:6425

Angst, fluff, coming out, trans girl percy, Poseidon is a dick, Myrina (trans girl percy)

Author notes: this is my first fic so it isn't that well written but I hope you enjoy

"Child, I warn you, don't ask for what you want, it isn't time yet." Dionysus said, trying to sound as cryptic as possible.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not sure how to even respond to that.

Then he disappeared with a flash of lightning, without even leaving a note.

After an hour I finally got my answer

————————————————————————

Tyson walked back to the group, looking satisfied with his new materials for forging.

He immediately started comparing them with Grovers new sets of Panpipes, and Clarisse's helmet.

"Annabeth Chase, comeforth." Zeus' voice thundered, showing he was getting bored with us.

"Lord Zeus, I would like to receive a blessing of agility and speed, to help me fight faster in the next battles." Annabeth's voice was the clearest of all of us, not showing any fear; but it still made my chest burn. She asked for a blessing?, was that allowed?, but only a few gods seemed to acknowledge it.

Zeus spoke in an irritated tone, "You have worked hard, however we deemed that you cannot receive a blessing for a quest that isn't your own." As Zeus said that, Ares leaned forward with a smug smile.

"I understand. Lord Zeus, may I save the reward for another time then."Annabeth said with dissatisfaction in her voice. "You may."

As Annabeth walked back, Athena was the only one that looked satisfied, then Zeus called out.

"Perseus Jackson, come forth."

I walked to the centre of the hall, with every step my heart beat harder, what can I ask for?, should I get equipment?, I have riptide, but is that enough?, and what should I get?, Armour?, what type?

Until I remember Circes island

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"What do you see?" C.C. asked, with a confused face, almost like she couldn't believe her own work.

"A girl, I see a girl, what does that mean?" I asked, heart beating but not in fear, or disgust but definitely something I didn't know.

"That means, my dear, that you are looking at your ideal self, your perfect you, and I can help you reach it."

I froze, I didn't know what to do, I could finally become who I wanted for so long.

"I'll give you time to think about it. What would make you truly happy, to be how you currently are, or to be the girl in that mirror. You can be beautiful, have long flowing hair, with a beaming smile?" C.C. reasoned, and it sounds right, not just her soothing voice but also her words. I could become who I want to be, the person I hid.

"Can you really make me look like her?, truly be her?" I asked, feeling a new tightness in my throat.

"I can, but it starts with you, to be her you need to start eating more fruits, a light exercise routine, and substitute this for a normal meal." She said as she walked behind a bar and filled a glass of water and added a drink mix powder.

"And you're sure there aren't any side effects?" I asked, skeptical despite her obvious acceptance. "Not one, this meal substitute will give you the perfect body." C.C. assured.

I drank, hesitant at first until I felt my body change, my body became hot, like my blood was boiling, then I started to get shorter; like I wanted, but I realised I kept on shrinking, and my body rapidly started growing hair, my teeth fely heavy in my mouth. I tried to shout at her but all that came out was "reeet, reeet, reeet"

"They you are, my dear, your true self. It's a shame, there was finally a man that understands the truth of the superiority of women, but you are still a man so it can't be changed."

My heart pounds, harder and harder every second, in pain, shock, fear, but most of all from the feeling of loss. The loss of something I was promised, of something I never had.

But I also feel relieved, I don't need to question if my friends would accept me, if they were still my friends.

————————————————————————

I know what I want, in front of these 12 gods, I will tell them that I want to change my body, I want to be a girl. 

"Perseus Jackson, what is the reward you would like -" Zeus started, "FOR THE QUEST YOU TRIED TO STEAL FROM MY DAUGHTER" Ares shouted over his father.

"SHE COULDN'T OF SUCCEEDED WITH OUT MY SON, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING HIM AND ANNABETH CHASE FOR NOT TAKING ALL THE CREDIT THAT THEY DESERVE." My father argued, which led to each god voicing their opinions.

"QUITE, EACH OF YOU" Zeus thundered, as the master bolt slammed against the floor. "I would like-" my voice became tight.

"Could I please... if it isn't any trouble, I'm sure you can but ..." I was already anxious, but thinking of Circe's island made it worse.

"Percy, it's fine, just tell us what you want." Poseidon said, trying to calm my nerves, but it didn't help.

Dionysus' warning rang in my ears, "don't ask for what you want." Was he talking about now, he had to be.

 "Could I please . . . also save the reward for later,." It's heart braking, but still it feels like it's the right thing, for some reason Dionysus warned me, and I'm not dumb enough to take a warning from the god of insanity lightly.

 What made it worse was that the only one that looked satisfied was Athena, but what is strange is that Artemis, and Aphrodite both sat back, like they're disappointed.

"Seems not all of Poseidon's children have a sea sponge where their brain should be." Athena said, which didn't make me feel any better. "Good choice, Perseus Jackson."

"Uh, thank you, Lady Athena." And with that I headed back to the group, with disappointed looks from three gods, and questioning looks from two demigods, and a satyr.

"Young demigods, Cyclops, and satyr, you have all proven worthy to receive gifts, make sure you do not waste them, or you may deeply regret your choice." Zeus warned.

With a crack of thunder, and a blinding light we were all back at camp.

For awhile I questioned why Dionysus warned me, why he didn't want me ask for what I want.

Sadly I got my answer a few months later

————————————————————————

"My Lady, thank you for letting me speak to you in private." I said, nervous of the next words that will come out of my mouth.

"I need no thanks." Artemis said smoothly. "What is it that you would like to speak of?"

"After the last quest I was on, Dionysus warned me to not ask for what I wanted, I wanted to know if you knew why he warned me?" I said, my heart racing, knowing what she would ask and what my answer had to be.

"I can only tell you if I know what you want." She said with a slight smile. "Can you tell me what your request would have been?"

My throat is tight and my voice is shaky, I haven't told anyone this yet, not my Mom, or Annabeth, or Grover, "My Lady, I wish to be a girl, I have wanted to be one for as long as I remember, I thought I could become one with the reward but Dionysus told me not to." I said with a breaking voice

My tears stream down my face, the words are choked out of my mouth, I place my head down in shame. "Lady Artemis, I need to know if I wasted my chance." 

Artemis walked towards me, placed her hands on my face and made me look her in the eyes before she said, "You have wasted nothing, you are a maiden that has survived much greater threats that a child your age should, both mortal and immortal."

"Thank you, my lady." I said, practically a whisper.

"I don't need thanks for speaking the truth, as my own personal reward for your bravery I will tell you why you were warned, as well as giving you my protection." As she said that a small crescent moon appeared on my arm, it shined with silvery light, bright against my skin.

————————————————————————

After a few minutes she told me everything about Dionysus' warning.

"Is there any more you would like to ask?" She said with an even voice.

"There is one final thing I would like to ask." I said as I wipe away the tears that fell from our conversation.

I know it's a long shot but I still have to ask, just incase the fates decide to do me a favour this one time. "Can you turn me into a girl?" 

"I can, but" Not the best way to start. "the only way for me to grant that wish right now is for you to be a hunter. If you are willing then take the vow and I will accept it."

I have another chance, but I don't know if I can take it... I run my hand through my hair to my neck, I know I want love, but can I lose this, I might never get this chance again. But is it worth the love I might lose, or are the powers I would gain worth not seeing the people at camp, or my mom.

"I'm sorry... I want to try to find love, I can't lose that, I don't... I don't want to lose that either." I try to wipe the tears, but they don't stop. Gods, I'm a fool.

"I understand, many people have denied me before because of love, but without you being part of the hunt I can't grant your wish. If you ever change your mind I will gladly accept you."

"I understand, Thank you my Lady." As I get up to leave, wiping the tears from my eyes, she says one last thing to me, "I swear on the styx that I won't let any of the other gods hurt you for this." As she said that thunder rolled over the mountains.

"And if you need help -no matter the reason- just call and I will be there. You aren't a hunter, but you are a maiden, and maidens will always receive my help."

I hold a thankful smile, "Thank you."

She smiled back, "As I have said, there is no need. I will see you tomorrow so please rest well."

I did, and after a few weeks I would learn if she would keep that promise

————————————————————————

I watched as Thalia accepted being Artemis' new lieutenant, there was a silver light that surrounded her, until she seemed to absorb it.

When she made her way back Zeus called "ANNABETH CHASE"

"Last time you were here you asked for a blessing, at the time we said no if it wasn't your quest, however for your bravery and strength we will allow you to receive a blessing if you wish." Zeus explained while multiple gods gave Ares looks of hatred.

"Thank you Lord Zeus, I would like a blessing of speed and agility to help me fight." Annabeth said with confidence that rivaled Apollo.

"Is that all?" Zeus gave her a look as if she grew an extra heads.

"If I can ask for more, and it isn't too much to ask, I would like a blessing of strength as well." I questioned how her voice never wavered.

"If that is all you ask, Athena will provide the blessing, as you are synchronised with her power most." Athena stood up, raised her hands, and annabeth started to glow with a grey light that seemed to seep into her, her eyes also changed to glow a brighter grey before they faded back to normal.

"Prove the worth of that blessing, for no blessing is minor, especially when used with wisdom." Athena intoned as she returned to her throne.

"Yes, Lady Athena, thank you" Annabeth said before returning to the group.

"PERSEUS JACKSON"

 "You have done us a favour again, Son of Poseidon." Despite his complementary words, it was said with a tone cold enough to freeze the entire ocean, as I tried to calm myself to avoid fumbling what I would say next, he said "You may ask for what you wish."

Artemis gave me a reassuring look, I took a deep breath, looked down seeing the crescent moon, and said with as much confidence as the rodent I once was "I wish to be a girl." My heart felt like it was sprinting a marathon, but Artemis only showed a smile.

The words jumped from my mouth, it felt like they wrapped around my chest and started to squeeze, wrapping me in a cocoon of anxiety.

"You... what?" Zeus asked, his voice hoarse from shock, when I looked him in the eyes he had a face like I told him a riddle, so did other gods, a few were smiling, mainly Artemis, and some had an even face, and one had a face of unblinking focus, Aphrodite, but only one had a face of hidden disgust. My father.

"I have always ... I asked Artemis but ... I would've asked but Dionysus ... " I didn't know what to say, what to do, tears streaked down my face, I know I'm protected by Artemis, she said she would help, and I know that I want this, that I worked hard for this, so why am I crying.

Zeus raised his hand, I immediately stopped, when he lowered his hand he only asked one question.

"Is this what you want? You are certain about your wish?" His once cold tone, now warm and understanding, it left the world quite, Olympus made no noise, all I heard was the blood rushing through my ears.

"Yes" it came out as a sigh but that was answer enough.

Poseidon stood up, "Percy, what are you talking about?, why are you saying these things?, You never -"

Artemis interrupted him as she stood, "She did, Lord Poseidon" a wave of warmth passed through me when she used my pronouns. "She came to me before I was kidnapped, she asked if I could explain Dionysus' warning and that led to her asking if I could grant her wish, I couldn't without asking for Zeus' permission, so I asked her to join the hunt, however she declined."

The tears streamed down my face, I wiped my face so many times that my face felt raw. Poseidon changed to human size and started moving towards me, but Thalia and Annabeth were suddenly at my side, looking at me with understanding in their eyes as they both wrapped their arms around me.

Thailia let go and stood between me and my father.

"I didn't know they started letting boys into-"

"They didn't, Lord Poseidon." Thalia was standing infront of my father.

"It Is wise not to interrupt me, Thalia Grace" Poseidon said with a voice more violent then Ares could ever be.

"Dad ... don't." Is all I could say between sobs.

"Fine, but I didn't know Artemis let boys into the hunt" he said while looking her in the eyes.

"It has happened before, I have also let people like your daughter join, like Siproites, yet you had no problem then." She said, her tone becoming more impatient and irritated.

"WELL SIPROITES WASN'T MY -" His voice was basically a growl

Artemis moved towards him, each step a threat to my father, "Your daughter has been deemed a maiden in need, and I help maidens in need, I can change the hunters vow and it's gifts to help her in anyway and you can't interfere with my sphere of influence without repercussions, Poseidon." She made her last comment in a tone that showed it was a threat.

Poseidon tried to reply, but Zeus warned "POSEIDON, if you value your throne, use it." His tone was cold as he regarded my father, "Both of you be seated" Zeus warned, only when everyone was silent did he continue, "As king of the gods, it is my choice to accept or deny rewards, and it is my choice that the wish will be granted." My jaw hit the floor, my wish was being granted. Poseidon looked more ready to start a war then Ares, while Artemis and Aphrodite -for who knows why- where beaming with pride and joy.

"Thank you, I... thank you."

"We need no thanks" Hera quickly said, "it is a minor gift to us, you will see that we have granted this before, with almost no issue," She stared daggers at Poseidon, "and we will grant this wish again. As you asked us all, I will take it upon myself to help yo-"

"No you won't, you know it's my turn." Aphrodite finally spoke up with a mischievous look in her eyes. Annabeth immediately took a step forward protectively. Even though she didn't join the hunters, the didn't mean she loved Aphrodite.

After a few seconds of silent battles between Aphrodite and Hera, "If you insist, my schedule is busy enough as it is." As she said that she disappeared in a cloud of peacock feathers.

With that most of the gods left, leaving only Aphrodite, Artemis, Zeus, and ... Poseidon 

Aphrodite gave us a smile, "Well, let's go get you some clothes before we do this", She snapped her fingers, and I found myself, Annabeth and Thalia in what I could only guess was a clothes store filled with modern clothes, Aphrodite appeared, smiling more than when Tyson met rainbow.

"Uh- where- are" I stumbled over my words, coming down from the shock of coming out, to all the olympian gods, and having the idea to have them turn me into a girl. Genius idea. I had no idea I was this smart.

Aphrodite gave me a kind smile, "Bit nervous?, don't worry, I decided to take care of you, I'm the goddess of beauty, so I decided to help you with fashion before we change you. I'll let you talk to your friends while I find you some clothes, I have a few ideas that would be cute." I turned bright red as she walked away and disappeared between racks of clothes, then Annabeth and Thalia faced me.

"So ... how you doing?", Thalia said trying her best to not be as awkward as me, she failed.

"Doing... Good, I think" I tried to not think about how strong my heart beat was only moments ago.

"So, how long have you known?" Thailia asked nervously.

"I- kind of um always knew, I just haven't had the words or courage to say it" I answered honestly, as I started picking at my clothes.

"Why?, you're the bravest person I know." Annabeth said genuinely, eyes studying me but still kind. She stared to make her way to some chairs and sat down, as I followed her my legs finally stopped working, luckily Thalia caught me.

"What happened to the strength to lift the sky?" Thalia joked as she helped me to the seats before she took her own.

"Thanks," I said before I answered Annabeth, I took a deep breath to calm myself before I replied, "You remember gabe, and uh ... the stuff he did ... to me and my mom?" They both nodded slowly. I had told them about the horrible things he did before my mom went into her 'temporary art career'. "Well, he Uh... watched TV a lot and ... sometimes people like me would be there, and cause he was a great guy, he said some ... horrible things, so there wasn't anything safe that I could... do, so I ... hid it." I fought back the urge to cry, I teared up but luckily I didn't start crying, it was bad enough with my voice being so shaky.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry." Annabeth leaned in for a hug, I was happy to finally feel accepted, however Thalia just sat there in silent rage, when she realised that I saw she steadied herself, Gabe should feel glad to be a statue, I don't wanna think of what would happen otherwise.

"Sorry, not big on hugs" Thalia said, obviously trying to keep her voice even.

"Then how come you didn't tell your mom, or teachers?" Annabeth asked

"Well the walls were thin in our apartment so I couldn't really say it there, and I didn't want another problem for mom, so I decided to try and hide it, but for school, Yancy Academy was many things, but accepting wasn't one."

"Fair point" Annabeth replied with a glum tone.

"So when did you decide to tell people?" Thailia said with a concentrated look in her eyes.

"It was some time during the sea of monsters, Circe showed me a mirror that showed me my perfect me, and um ... soon after that Dionysus said to not ask for what I wanted, so I didn't, and it shattered me, I felt like I wasted my chance," I was tearing up remembering what that felt like," later I spoke with Artemis and she gave me the confidence that I needed."

"So that's how you got the mark on your arm?" Thailia said pointing to the blessing that Artemis gave me. Annabeth looked at the mark, not in disgust but definitely concentrated on it.

"Yeah, she gave me a blessing of her protection, and um... claimed me as a maiden in need, since she couldn't do more at the time, so if I need help then she will come."I immediately turned red, calling myself a maiden in need, being a maiden was nice but being in need felt wrong, the last time I was 'in need' was with gabe. It sounds like I'm waiting to be rescued by a hero, and I know that I can save myself if needed.

"Maiden in need?, cute. Lady Jackson." She and Annabeth started smiling when they saw me turn red. "Poseidon owns a kingdom so you're already royalty.", Thalia snickered as she said "Dam, how many chariots do you have?"

Thalia and Annabeth kept bouncing jokes back to each other. Every time I turned red or fumbled my words Thalia laughed harder, until she was howling, "As long as I don't need to kiss a frog." I mumbled, and with that they were both wheezing, with Thalia on the floor, Annabeth folded in half. Thalia laughed harder every time she tried to get her composure back. "Bark for breath, you ok?" I asked with a smile spreading across Annabeth's and my face.

She finally got control of her laughter, still chuckling to herself as she sat back down, "Gods, fish sticks, you're hilarious."

I rolled my eyes, but Annabeth looked serious again, "Have you thought of any new names for yourself?"

like the genius I am, I never thought of a name. What would I name myself - and what would I tell everyone else? The campers? My school? Mom?, wait, name first, this is possible, right?

I thought about it and decided I would copy my mother, "How many women in ancient Greece had good lives?"

They exchanged looks before looking deep in thought, not a good sign. I didn't know much about myths, but I knew that most heroes didn't have good lives, and that even less women tended to have good lives.

"Um,  there are some, but most don't. Like Atlanta, she was strong, great hunter, she was with some of the strongest hero's, like Heracles and Jason. It would fit you well and she also had a connection to Artemis." She shrugged and went back into thought.

"How about strength?" Thalia reasoned, "Like Myrina, brave, strong, good leader, similar to you." I blushed being thought to have such great qualities.

"I don't mind being named after someone strong, what did she do?"

"She was a queen of the Amazon's, she lead an army against the Atlantians, she won against others as well, like a group called the gorgons ..."

"... like medusa?"

"No, they were more similar to the Amazon's, just the same name." Annabeth jumped in.

"She did more than that." Aphrodite interrupted, and we all turned in surprise to see her.

 "Aphrodite, what do you mean?" Annabeth asked in suprise, probably not sure what to say, just like me and Thalia.

"While she did conquer places and won wars, she also made peace with the Egyptians, with the ruler at the time."

"Who was the ruler at the time?" Annabeth seemed amazed and intrigued.

"... Doesn't matter, the point is that she was smart enough to find peace."

"Why haven't we heard much about her?" Annabeth seemed mystified but a bit annoyed, and I couldn't blame her.

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, "Sadly many women in history have been forgot about or lied about by historians, especially by the people like Ovid," She spat his name out like it was acid, "Some guy he was, anyways, Myrina was strong, brave, and knew to make peace. She was also similar to Perseus by defeating a sea monster to save a princess."

"That's... amazing, I don't think I'm worthy of a name like that." I can't even imagine being like that.

"Nonsense, but if you are looking for name suggestions, I would suggest Andromeda, links to Perseus, beautiful, and lived an okay life."

Thalia shook her head, "No offense, but i don't think it fits her, some people have described you as attractive -their words not mine," as Thalia said that Annabeth turned bright red and looked away, "but you went up against me, I don't think you need to be rescued."

"Sure, you are strong, don't get me wrong, but is that all you want to be known for, you could give Andromeda a different meaning, one of strength and beauty?" Aphrodite asked almost solemnly.

"I have to think about it, but I'm not sure yet, maybe Andromeda as a middle name to show homage to what my mom called me."

"Okay, just let me know soon, and I need to know if you want to wear a jeans or a skirt?"

It took my brain a few moments to realise she was talking, and looking, to me, "Jeans, it's cold outside and I want to take it slow for now, I'm going to wait a few days or weeks first before I wear a skirt."

Aphrodite stifled a smile, "You could wear tights, but jeans will work. I have a few tops that would look cute. Do you know the different washes of denim?"

"Grey, stone, light, dark, black, white, acid, medium, and coloured." I answered fast enough to catch Thalia and Annabeth off guard, while Aphrodite only smiled.

"Gods, I didn't know you actually had a working memory." Thalia cracked a smile.

"I knew you looked after your appearance more than most, but i didn't  expect ... " Annabeth's mouth hung open, "That."

Aphrodite beamed with excitement, "You have to start spending time with my kids, they will love you, trust me, promise to spend time with them, they will adore you!, so what wash of denim do you like?"

"Normally grey or stone, they go well with many different colours of tops and shoes, and since I mostly wear sneakers I think stone would work best." I smiled confidently as Annabeth and Thalia stared at me dumbfounded, while Aphrodite was lighting up the room with a smile before she disappeared into the racks of clothes again.

"First a working memory, and now being able to think, you are full of surprises." Thalia said with a growing smile. "Tell me if you want to get into punk style clothes as well." She said, still smiling.

"Totally, I'm going to be experimenting with loads of different styles so if you have any hand me downs I will happily take it." I said blushing a bit as they both looked at me.

"Hand me downs?, you think I'm letting the princess of porpoises have hand me downs?" Thalia said as her smile grew, "First of all, I don't want to get smote by Aphrodite, second of all you deserve more than just hand me downs, I plan on being there for your first clothes shopping, especially if it's my expertise."

"Th-Thanks, I honestly don't know what to say."

"Gods, you are such a girl." Annabeth sighed, I blushed for the 700th time today while being both embarrassed and happy.

"Yeah, I um guess... Thanks, but back to names." I played with my shirt, still trying to be normal -or as normal as I can be.

I thought about it, These were some of the strongest women in ancient greece.

Atlanta, she was skilled and connected to Artemis, Myrina, She was strong, smart and a good leader, and Andromeda, Beautiful and a connection to what my mom called me.

It was a lot to think about, but I made a decision.

"I like all the names, but I like... Myrina the most, I'm going to use one of the others as a middle name, but I really love the name Myrina." I felt nervous when I said that, like I was introducing someone else and myself at the same time.

"Myrina." Thalia said in thought, "Myrina. It suits you, I'm glad I can speak to you with your name."

As she said it, my doubts faded, it felt warm, like the first time I had ambrosia.

"So how does it feel to have a name that fits?" Annabeth asked with a gleam in her eye.

"It feels... right, I don't know how to describe it, just warm."

"I'm glad, and let us know if anyone tries messing with you, we'll teach them some manners." As she said that, her eyes gleamed like when she killed a monster, and Thalia had lightning flicker between her fingers, I feel sorry for anyone that says anything hurtful, actually I don't.

"Thanks, both of you." I smiled as I thought of my name, not the act I have to play, but my real name.

Aphrodite came back, looking excited, she was in her sphere of influence, and I was excited as well but still nervous.

"Here's the clothes!" She said in an exited tone as she placed the stone washed jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a slightly larger cream sweater, and a pair of red vans, "Time for the part you waited for, your transformation!"

"Shouldn't I change first?" I asked hesitantly.

"No, I need to measure you, then resize the clothes to fit you, so if you get dressed it won't fit properly, you also need underwear, and by the looks on your friends faces," As she said that I realised that they both haven't stopped grinning for most of our conversation. "they are just as excited to see what you look like as I am."

"Okay then, I'm ready when you are."

"Like most things worth doing, this could be painful." As she snapped her fingers, I felt strange. First I was hot, like my blood was boiling. I felt lightheaded, fighting to stay awake from both pain and fainting. I fought against the pain, to scream out, but it was hard—almost impossibly hard. It felt like every joint was popping; like I was over extending them until they cracked. After a few moments it faded; my body cooled and joints relaxed; the light-headedness faded; and I felt like myself but also different, with how much I flinched from the pain, I nearly fell off the chair.

"I really out did myself this time." Aphrodite said cheerfully.

I groaned softly as I tried to deal with everything that just happened.

The first thing I noticed was my voice, it was higher and softer, even that little groan sounded more feminine, I'll admit that I didn't have a gruff or deep voice before bit still I definitely sounded like a girl now.

The second is that I was shorter, only a few inches but it was strange that everything was slightly taller and seemed more out off reach.

The third, my clothes just didn't fit, my T-shirt was baggy, my shoes were obviously oversized, and when I tried to readjust myself, my pants slipped, I caught it but still.

Forth, my hair was longer, normally it was wild but still didn't touch much of my neck or forehead, now I felt it roll over my shoulders, I felt how much weight was suddenly added, not much but still noticeable.

"You were short before but dam." Thalia said in shock, and I laughed, it sounded completely different, and more real then before.

Then I noticed everything about me, my frame was smaller, before I wasn't bumping into doors(too often) but I was definitely smaller.

My hands were smaller as well, they seemed delicate or dainty, and my arms both seemed shorter and less muscular, they were still defined but definitely lost mass, and the mark was still there.

"If you would be so kind, Miss Jackson needs her measurements taken, so Annabeth and Thalia please give us some privacy, I am sure she will appreciate it as much as the compliments." Aphrodite said cheerfully, still pleased with herself.

Annabeth and Thalia left, leaving behind encouraging words and smiles as they went to find a room, leaving me alone with Aphrodite.

"Myrina -love the name, by the way- it's time to take measurements and that means you need to strip, I don't want this to be long, so no complaints."

I nodded while trying not to blush. I failed. I stood up while holding up my pants, I took a deep breath, and dropped them. I hesitantly grabbed the hem of my shirt and froze.

I never liked looking at my body before and thought that seeing a body I like for the first time should be more private.

"Myrina, I know it's a lot but we have to get this done, just one minute is all I need." She spoke in an assuring voice

"Yeah... okay." I lifted my shirt and tried to not look down at the body I wasn't ready to see. I dropped it to the floor and took a step out of the pants.

"Okay, I'm just going to take a few measurements and then it's done." Aphrodite's voice was calming, I felt the tape measure wrap around my body in several places, around and under my breasts, hips, butt, and shoulders. She then measured the length of my arms and legs.

When it was done, my eyes opened as she snapped her fingers and she handed me my clothes.

"Put these on and I'll meet you with the other girls."

As she left, I sat down to change; still feeling jumpy after everything. She gave me some simple black underwear and bra, the stone washed jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a cream sweater, and red vans. A pretty outfit. Everything fit perfectly, and only the panties and bra took getting used to; as well as feeling slightly embarrassing.

As I pulled my hair from under my clothes I felt that same warmness I felt many times during the day; something that feels so much better than any amount of ambrosia.

After everything felt comfortable, I breathed a sigh of relief, "I'm ready!"

I watched as Aphrodite came back and gradually smiled as she saw how I looked.

"You look amazing, honestly you made it easy with how pretty you are." Aphrodite said sincerely.

"Th-Thanks, you really helped, but where are Annabeth and Thalia?" I was feeling nervous after being separate from them for so long on a hard day.

"I still haven't finished helping you, so I asked them to wait outside until we're ready, I can call them in if you want." She said with some pain in her voice.

"No, if it's okay with you I want to look my best before seeing them." I started to feel excited, I want to show them my best after they helped me so much.

"Of course it's okay, there's only one last step, your hairstyle, have you thought of anything yet?, It's kind of long, but if you know anything cute I can do it for you."

I looked in a mirror, and realised just how long it was, it reached close to my hips, I thought about it and it was too long to really be convenient everyday.

"How about this... shorten it to above half my torso, and then make it into a shag with bangs, the layers and volume will help frame the face, what do you think?" As she smiled I knew that I made the right decision, she snapped her fingers and a few inches of hair disappeared as I felt my hair change position.

"Honestly, I don't get why Athena thinks you dumb, you are a genius, I can't forgive you for hiding such talent." She smiled and I felt warm.

Even with all the compliments, a thought never left my mind, all the help I have got today from friends and gods, but I haven't even told my mom yet; I have to change that soon.

"Thanks, Aphrodite." I smiled getting used to how much my voice changed.

"You ready to show them?" She asked

I nodded, my heart raced with excitement as I saw them come back.

As they saw me they froze.

"Wow! You look amazing! Can't believe how well it suits you, Myrina. Good work, Aphrodite." She seemed hesitant about the goddess, but happy to see how I looked.

"It was no work at all, she's so pretty that she didn't even really need my help after the transformation." Aphrodite said like she was bragging.

Annabeth walked towards me with a smile and hugged me for a few seconds. I was so much shorter that I wasn't fully over her shoulder. "She's right." she whispered in my ear as she pulled away.

"Thanks, all of you. I don't know what I would've done without all of you help." I wiped away the happy tears, not being able to stop smiling.

"We just have one stop before I take you home. Artemis will want to see you, so I promised to bring you to Olympus, but barnacle beard might be there; will you be okay?" She asked, clearly worried for me. And to be honest, I don't know if I'll be okay, but I want to try to be.

"If I have all of you, then I know I will be." She snapped her fingers and we were back on Olympus.

[shvdwscng]

"i  would  have  believed  you,  if  you  didn't  deliver  those  words  in  that  manner."  an  arched  brow  at  her  sister's  insistence  is  displayed,  in  this  moment  she  very  much  resembled  a  child  that  the  elder  would  have  laughed  in  amusement  under  different  circumstances.  in  true  form,  it  seemed  her  sister  had  worked  ahead  and  did  exactly  so,  testing  and  toying  with  the  day  commander  ;  after  all,  one  could  never  be  too  careful.  she  was  beyond  relieved  that  ner  took  the  time  to  ensure  that  whoever  she  gave  her  heart  to  was  one  who  was  worthy  of  it,  as  it  was  always  a  fear  she  held  that  the  wrong  sort  of  people  would  peruse  and  attract  her  siblings  and  they  would  be  none  the  wiser.  with  nerina,  that  fear  wasn't  strong,  it  eased  as  she  spoke  freely  of  the  commander,  but  the  other  younger  ones?  most  certainly  it  was  prominent.  in  truth,  alina  herself  was  as  surprised  that  they  had  become  entirely  enamored  with  a  pair  of  best  friends.  the  fates  were  strange,  twisted  even,  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  lately  the  had  never  ceased  to  surprise  the  high  lady  -  both  in  unfavorable  and  favorable  ways.  "i  expect  no  less  from  the  high  lady's  sister."  the  way  the  other's  chocolate  gaze  twinkled  as  she  proudly  stated  the  fact,  it  seemed  it  had  the  desired  effect  on  the  commander  and  his  affections  for  alina's  sister.  in  an  effort  to  know  the  man  her  sister  was  so  besotted  with,  the  elder  femme  inquired,  "what  is  he  like?"  genuine  curiosity  was  heard  in  her  tone,  but  it  was  a  nice  distraction  from  her  own  thoughts  of  the  commander's  high  lord.  alina  nods,  "oh,  we  are  beyond  clever.  but,  yes,  i  suppose  we  are  far  too  accustomed  to  the  latter."  she  could  certainly  say  the  being  under  the  thumb  of  a  tyrant,  monster  father  had  certainly  made  them  vigilant,  cautious,  perhaps  far  more  than  should  be  normal  for  anyone.

"good  gods,  i  was  not  certain  you  were  capable  of  eliciting  such  an  un-ladylike  sound."  she  stared  at  the  younger  dragomir  for  several  seconds  longer,  "ah,  it  seems  she's  become  quite  the  expert  in  dissecting  her  elder  sister."  nerina  wasn't  wrong,  there  was  much  she  withheld  still,  from  ner  and  even  daxton,  perhaps  when  they  were  under  better  circumstances  she  could  share  the  corners  of  her  mind  she  kept  locked  from  them  -  ones  she  knew  her  siblings  deserved  to  know.  "it  is  a  matter  of  not  allowing  anything  of  me  to  affect  all  of  you  negatively  -  anymore  than  it  already  has."  alina  leaves  it  at  that,  not  something  she  wished  to  get  into,  not  yet  anyway,  not  when  her  younger  sister  seemed  to  pour  her  heart  before  her  elder  sister  and  the  high  lady  did  not  want  it  to  end.  it  seemed  the  other  turned  her  focus  back  on  alina,  but  she  pauses  for  a  beat,  ringing  for  a  staff  member  for  breakfast  that  they'd  been  delaying,  and  once  the  fae  left  with  her  instructions,  alina  returned  her  attention  to  ner.  "it's  not  about  denying,  ner,  it's  about  accepting  what  can  and  cannot  be."  try  as  alina  might,  for  a  woman  skilled  with  words,  she  couldn't  articulate  her  thoughts  or  her  feelings  concerning  cedrian.  she  was  forever  stuck  between  a  wall  and  a  rock,  between  her  desires  and  her  duty  -  that  the  two  could  never  mix  or  run  parallel.  it  is  highly  possible  cedrian  felt  something  for  her,  past  carnal  desires,  deep  down  she  was  aware  he  does,  his  gazes  spoke  volumes  but  alina  played  ignorance  because  she  did  not  know  how  to  proceed.  "they  do  and  his  children  would  be  accepted  without  a  doubt."  they  were  ced's  life,  and  that  went  without  question  they  were  as  important  to  alina,  even  if  she  was  uncertain  of  maternal  capabilities.  "if  all  that  was  true,  how  do  you  expect  him  to  be  content  in  the  long  with  a  high  lady  who  cannot  leave  her  court  for  extended  periods  of  time?"  ced  would  not  ask  her  to  leave  hers,  and  nor  she  of  him.  she  also  disliked  in  this  moment  that  her  sister  seemed  to  be  the  voice  of  reason,  though  it  made  alina  rather  proud.  "perhaps  you  should  have  been  our  court's  diplomat."  alina  knew  deep  down,  there  were  many  avenues,  but  she  feared  a  many  outcomes  when  they  returned  to  their  reality,  and  the  most  prominent  one  that  he'd  prefer  or  find  another  much  closer  to  his  court.  it  also  felt  as  awful  to  assume  that  of  cedrian,  when  everything  she  had  known  of  him  proved  to  be  the  exact  opposite.  he  may  have  been  a  womanizer,  but  he  offered  devotion  like  no  other.  it  was  as  wondrous  to  see  ner's  optimism,  "there  are  many."  she  finally  says  agreeing  to  the  other.  alina  held  her  younger  sister's  gaze,  a  warmth  in  her  chest  intensifying  at  the  other's  sentiments,  "i  promise  you,  you  have  nothing  worry  of  when  it's  about  me.  if  you  offers  you  some  peace,  then  know  that  i  am...quite  happy."  for  several  reasons,  of  the  time  she  was  getting  with  all  of  them,  of  her  heaven  with  ced,  it  outweigh  all  that  they  faced  currently  in  this  strange  court.

her  eyes  narrow  now,  looking  at  alina  with  annoyance  that  isn't  truly  there,  or  for  her  sister.  she's  annoyed  at  herself,  for  allowing  her  emotions  to  get  so  tangled  when  everything  she  did  in  life  was  fairly  straightforward.  nerina  had  few  secrets,  and  those  she  did  possess  were  hardly  her  own.  while  her  heart  ached  to  keep  them,  she  also  knew  it  was  not  her  place  to  share  velaris  with  her  sister.  "  i  am  not  pining.  "  insists  she,  but  she  sounds  like  a  petulant  child,  arguing  what  they  know  to  be  true  but  refusing  to  admit.  stubbornness  was  something  that  the  dragomirs  possessed  in  spades.  but  she  couldn't  help  her  mind  stray  back  to  alistair,  to  how  she  rarely  saw  him  with  any  other,  even  if  he  wasn't  aware  she  was  around,  she'd  never  caught  him  flirting  or  showing  any  interest  in  any  but  her.  any  time  they  did  find  one  another,  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  quick  to  be  near.  it  had  to  mean  something,  she  was  certain,  but  it  was  difficult  for  nerina  to  shed  her  insecurities.  "  oh,  i  have  been.  "  she  says,  eyes  sparking  with  mischief.  it's  not  so  much  toying  with  him,  as  that  sounded  poor,  but  nerina  was  certainly  setting  quite  the  task  for  the  commander.  she  felt  that  if  he  truly  was  interested,  he  wouldn't  mind.  he  seemed  to  not.  nerina  allows  alina's  words  to  sink  in,  and  she  wonders  if  it's  easier  for  alina  to  focus  on  the  love  life  of  her  younger  sister  than  her  own.  the  advice  she  offers  seems  as  if  the  other  is  well  rounded,  intelligent  in  the  subject,  and  yet  she  continues  to  dance  around  what  ner  is  certain  to  be  true.  rather  than  point  that  out,  she  simply  sighs.  "  that  is  because  we  are  very  clever,  and  far  too  used  to  those  toying  with  us.  "  she  says  dismissively.  their  father  was  a  monster,  pitting  the  children  against  one  another  and  ruining  anything  they  had  in  childhood.  it's  why  they  were  so  broken,  but  also  why  they  had  become  so  resilient.  

a  snort,  ungraceful  as  could  be,  comes  from  the  pirate  fae.  "  you  do  not.  you  just  don't  know  how  to  handle  not  being  able  to  keep  so  many  secrets.  "  ner  was  still  certain  alina  had  many,  but  there  were  things  she  would  never  have  to  herself  now  that  nerina,  and  she  supposed  daxton,  were  focused  on  the  high  lady.  nerina  shakes  her  head,  surprised  that  alina  continues  to  focus  on  her  love  life  rather  than  that  of  the  romance  the  high  lady  has  with  the  high  lord.  "  and  i  wish  to  not  see  my  sister  deny  herself  of  something  true.  "  she  insists.  she  may  be  pushing  too  much,  may  be  edging  into  the  territory  where  her  sister  will  just  shut  down  and  push  her  out,  but  nerina  doesn't  care.  seeing  alina  this  way  hurts  her  own  heart,  and  she  just  wants  her  sister  to  finally  let  go.  it's  not  fair  that  she  has  to  deny  herself  of  so  much,  the  summer  court  should  not  demand  this  much  if  its  ruler.  "  families  blend  all  the  time.  not  all  are  like  ours.  "  she  says  gently,  trying  to  return  back  to  a  less  heightened  state.  she  doesn't  want  to  annoy  alina,  not  truly,  but  she  does  want  her  sister  to  stop  being  so  stubborn.  it's  a  force  of  wills,  the  two  dragomir  sisters  pitted  against  one  another.  "  perhaps  he  might  not  have  been  looking,  but  some  things  find  a  way  to  happen  even  if  you  weren't  expecting  it.  "  was  that  not  also  what  happened  with  she  and  the  day  commander  ?  what  alina  was  insisting  she  accept  ?  ner  keeps  that  comparison  to  herself  for  now.  "  the  magic  chose  you  for  a  reason,  and  that  means  something.  the  people  may  be  upset,  but  it  just  needs  to  be  framed  in  the  benefit,  as  well  as  clarity  that  the  courts  will  not  be  joining.  it  may  be  tedious,  but  there  is  always  a  way.  "  insists  she.  she  who  is  expected  to  know  so  little  of  courts  and  how  they  work,  but  is  actually  a  proper  source  of  knowledge  on  the  matter.  nerina's  ability  to  linger,  to  observe,  and  to  not  often  be  noticed  make  her  the  best  candidate.  she's  been  watching  and  learning  for  decades.  a  sigh  slips  from  nerina  when  alina  touches  her  hand,  and  her  soft  gaze  looks  into  the  golden  hues  of  her  sister's.  "  i  will  always  worry  about  you,  you're  my  sister.  "  it  may  not  have  always  been  their  relationship,  but  it  certainly  was  now.

[qqueenofhades]

The Green Knight and Medieval Metatextuality: An Essay

Right, so. Finally watched it last night, and I’ve been thinking about it literally ever since, except for the part where I was asleep. As I said to fellow medievalist and admirer of Dev Patel @oldshrewsburyian, it’s possibly the most fascinating piece of medieval-inspired media that I’ve seen in ages, and how refreshing to have something in this genre that actually rewards critical thought and deep analysis, rather than me just fulminating fruitlessly about how popular media thinks that slapping blood, filth, and misogyny onto some swords and castles is “historically accurate.” I read a review of TGK somewhere that described it as the anti-Game of Thrones, and I’m inclined to think that’s accurate. I didn’t agree with all of the film’s tonal, thematic, or interpretative choices, but I found them consistently stylish, compelling, and subversive in ways both small and large, and I’m gonna have to write about it or I’ll go crazy. So. Brace yourselves.

(Note: My PhD is in medieval history, not medieval literature, and I haven’t worked on SGGK specifically, but I am familiar with it, its general cultural context, and the historical influences, images, and debates that both the poem and the film referenced and drew upon, so that’s where this meta is coming from.)

First, obviously, while the film is not a straight-up text-to-screen version of the poem (though it is by and large relatively faithful), it is a multi-layered meta-text that comments on the original Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the archetypes of chivalric literature as a whole, modern expectations for medieval films, the hero’s journey, the requirements of being an “honorable knight,” and the nature of death, fate, magic, and religion, just to name a few. Given that the Arthurian legendarium, otherwise known as the Matter of Britain, was written and rewritten over several centuries by countless authors, drawing on and changing and hybridizing interpretations that sometimes challenged or outright contradicted earlier versions, it makes sense for the film to chart its own path and make its own adaptational decisions as part of this multivalent, multivocal literary canon. Sir Gawain himself is a canonically and textually inconsistent figure; in the movie, the characters merrily pronounce his name in several different ways, most notably as Sean Harris/King Arthur’s somewhat inexplicable “Garr-win.” He might be a man without a consistent identity, but that’s pointed out within the film itself. What has he done to define himself, aside from being the king’s nephew? Is his quixotic quest for the Green Knight actually going to resolve the question of his identity and his honor – and if so, is it even going to matter, given that successful completion of the “game” seemingly equates with death?

Likewise, as the anti-Game of Thrones, the film is deliberately and sometimes maddeningly non-commercial. For an adaptation coming from a studio known primarily for horror, it almost completely eschews the cliché that gory bloodshed equals authentic medievalism; the only graphic scene is the Green Knight’s original beheading. The violence is only hinted at, subtextual, suspenseful; it is kept out of sight, around the corner, never entirely played out or resolved. In other words, if anyone came in thinking that they were going to watch Dev Patel luridly swashbuckle his way through some CGI monsters like bad Beowulf adaptations of yore, they were swiftly disappointed. In fact, he seems to spend most of his time being wet, sad, and failing to meet the moment at hand (with a few important exceptions).

The film unhurriedly evokes a medieval setting that is both surreal and defiantly non-historical. We travel (in roughly chronological order) from Anglo-Saxon huts to Romanesque halls to high-Gothic cathedrals to Tudor villages and half-timbered houses, culminating in the eerie neo-Renaissance splendor of the Lord and Lady’s hall, before returning to the ancient trees of the Green Chapel and its immortal occupant: everything that has come before has now returned to dust. We have been removed even from imagined time and place and into a moment where it ceases to function altogether. We move forward, backward, and sideways, as Gawain experiences past, present, and future in unison. He is dislocated from his own sense of himself, just as we, the viewers, are dislocated from our sense of what is the “true” reality or filmic narrative; what we think is real turns out not to be the case at all. If, of course, such a thing even exists at all.

This visual evocation of the entire medieval era also creates a setting that, unlike GOT, takes pride in rejecting absolutely all political context or Machiavellian maneuvering. The film acknowledges its own cultural ubiquity and the question of whether we really need yet another King Arthur adaptation: none of the characters aside from Gawain himself are credited by name. We all know it’s Arthur, but he’s listed only as “king.” We know the spooky druid-like old man with the white beard is Merlin, but it’s never required to spell it out. The film gestures at our pre-existing understanding; it relies on us to fill in the gaps, cuing us to collaboratively produce the story with it, positioning us as listeners as if we were gathered to hear the original poem. Just like fanfiction, it knows that it doesn’t need to waste time introducing every single character or filling in ultimately unnecessary background knowledge, when the audience can be relied upon to bring their own.

As for that, the film explicitly frames itself as a “filmed adaptation of the chivalric romance” in its opening credits, and continues to play with textual referents and cues throughout: telling us where we are, what’s happening, or what’s coming next, rather like the rubrics or headings within a medieval manuscript. As noted, its historical/architectural references span the entire medieval European world, as does its costume design. I was particularly struck by the fact that Arthur and Guinevere’s crowns resemble those from illuminated monastic manuscripts or Eastern Orthodox iconography: they are both crown and halo, they confer an air of both secular kingship and religious sanctity. The question in the film’s imagined epilogue thus becomes one familiar to Shakespeare’s Henry V: heavy is the head that wears the crown. Does Gawain want to earn his uncle’s crown, take over his place as king, bear the fate of Camelot, become a great ruler, a husband and father in ways that even Arthur never did, only to see it all brought to dust by his cowardice, his reliance on unscrupulous sorcery, and his unfulfilled promise to the Green Knight? Is it better to have that entire life and then lose it, or to make the right choice now, even if it means death?

Likewise, Arthur’s kingly mantle is Byzantine in inspiration, as is the icon of the Virgin Mary-as-Theotokos painted on Gawain’s shield (which we see broken apart during the attack by the scavengers). The film only glances at its religious themes rather than harping on them explicitly; we do have the cliché scene of the male churchmen praying for Gawain’s safety, opposite Gawain’s mother and her female attendants working witchcraft to protect him. (When oh when will I get my film that treats medieval magic and medieval religion as the complementary and co-existing epistemological systems that they were, rather than portraying them as diametrically binary and disparagingly gendered opposites?) But despite the interim setbacks borne from the failure of Christian icons, the overall resolution of the film could serve as the culmination of a medieval Christian morality tale: Gawain can buy himself a great future in the short term if he relies on the protection of the enchanted green belt to avoid the Green Knight’s killing stroke, but then he will have to watch it all crumble until he is sitting alone in his own hall, his children dead and his kingdom destroyed, as a headless corpse who only now has been brave enough to accept his proper fate. By removing the belt from his person in the film’s Inception-like final scene, he relinquishes the taint of black magic and regains his religious honor, even at the likely cost of death. That, the medieval Christian morality tale would agree, is the correct course of action.

Gawain’s encounter with St. Winifred likewise presents a more subtle vision of medieval Christianity. Winifred was an eighth-century Welsh saint known for being beheaded, after which (by the power of another saint) her head was miraculously restored to her body and she went on to live a long and holy life. It doesn’t quite work that way in TGK. (St Winifred’s Well is mentioned in the original SGGK, but as far as I recall, Gawain doesn’t meet the saint in person.) In the film, Gawain encounters Winifred’s lifelike apparition, who begs him to dive into the mere and retrieve her head (despite appearances, she warns him, it is not attached to her body). This fits into the pattern of medieval ghost stories, where the dead often return to entreat the living to help them finish their business; they must be heeded, but when they are encountered in places they shouldn’t be, they must be put back into their proper physical space and reminded of their real fate. Gawain doesn’t follow William of Newburgh’s practical recommendation to just fetch some brawny young men with shovels to beat the wandering corpse back into its grave. Instead, in one of his few moments of unqualified heroism, he dives into the dark water and retrieves Winifred’s skull from the bottom of the lake. Then when he returns to the house, he finds the rest of her skeleton lying in the bed where he was earlier sleeping, and carefully reunites the skull with its body, finally allowing it to rest in peace.

However, Gawain’s involvement with Winifred doesn’t end there. The fox that he sees on the bank after emerging with her skull, who then accompanies him for the rest of the film, is strongly implied to be her spirit, or at least a companion that she has sent for him. Gawain has handled a saint’s holy bones; her relics, which were well known to grant protection in the medieval world. He has done the saint a service, and in return, she extends her favor to him. At the end of the film, the fox finally speaks in a human voice, warning him not to proceed to the fateful final encounter with the Green Knight; it will mean his death. The symbolism of having a beheaded saint serve as Gawain’s guide and protector is obvious, since it is the fate that may or may not lie in store for him. As I said, the ending is Inception-like in that it steadfastly refuses to tell you if the hero is alive (or will live) or dead (or will die). In the original SGGK, of course, the Green Knight and the Lord turn out to be the same person, Gawain survives, it was all just a test of chivalric will and honor, and a trap put together by Morgan Le Fay in an attempt to frighten Guinevere. It’s essentially able to be laughed off: a game, an adventure, not real. TGK takes this paradigm and flips it (to speak…) on its head.

Gawain’s rescue of Winifred’s head also rewards him in more immediate terms: his/the Green Knight’s axe, stolen by the scavengers, is miraculously restored to him in her cottage, immediately and concretely demonstrating the virtue of his actions. This is one of the points where the film most stubbornly resists modern storytelling conventions: it simply refuses to add in any kind of “rational” or “empirical” explanation of how else it got there, aside from the grace and intercession of the saint. This is indeed how it works in medieval hagiography: things simply reappear, are returned, reattached, repaired, made whole again, and Gawain’s lost weapon is thus restored, symbolizing that he has passed the test and is worthy to continue with the quest. The film’s narrative is not modernizing its underlying medieval logic here, and it doesn’t particularly care if a modern audience finds it “convincing” or not. As noted, the film never makes any attempt to temporalize or localize itself; it exists in a determinedly surrealist and ahistorical landscape, where naked female giants who look suspiciously like Tilda Swinton roam across the wild with no necessary explanation. While this might be frustrating for some people, I actually found it a huge relief that a clearly fantastic and fictional literary adaptation was not acting like it was qualified to teach “real history” to its audience. Nobody would come out of TGK thinking that they had seen the “actual” medieval world, and since we have enough of a problem with that sort of thing thanks to GOT, I for one welcome the creation of a medieval imaginative space that embraces its eccentric and unrealistic elements, rather than trying to fit them into the Real Life box.

This plays into the fact that the film, like a reused medieval manuscript containing more than one text, is a palimpsest: for one, it audaciously rewrites the entire Arthurian canon in the wordless vision of Gawain’s life after escaping the Green Knight (I could write another meta on that dream-epilogue alone). It moves fluidly through time and creates alternate universes in at least two major points: one, the scene where Gawain is tied up and abandoned by the scavengers and that long circling shot reveals his skeletal corpse rotting on the sward, only to return to our original universe as Gawain decides that he doesn’t want that fate, and two, Gawain as King. In this alternate ending, Arthur doesn’t die in battle with Mordred, but peaceably in bed, having anointed his worthy nephew as his heir. Gawain becomes king, has children, gets married, governs Camelot, becomes a ruler surpassing even Arthur, but then watches his son get killed in battle, his subjects turn on him, and his family vanish into the dust of his broken hall before he himself, in despair, pulls the enchanted scarf out of his clothing and succumbs to his fate.

In this version, Gawain takes on the responsibility for the fall of Camelot, not Arthur. This is the hero’s burden, but he’s obtained it dishonorably, by cheating. It is a vivid but mimetic future which Gawain (to all appearances) ultimately rejects, returning the film to the realm of traditional Arthurian canon – but not quite. After all, if Gawain does get beheaded after that final fade to black, it would represent a significant alteration from the poem and the character’s usual arc. Are we back in traditional canon or aren’t we? Did Gawain reject that future or didn’t he? Do all these alterities still exist within the visual medium of the meta-text, and have any of them been definitely foreclosed?

Furthermore, the film interrogates itself and its own tropes in explicit and overt ways. In Gawain’s conversation with the Lord, the Lord poses the question that many members of the audience might have: is Gawain going to carry out this potentially pointless and suicidal quest and then be an honorable hero, just like that? What is he actually getting by staggering through assorted Irish bogs and seeming to reject, rather than embrace, the paradigms of a proper quest and that of an honorable knight? He lies about being a knight to the scavengers, clearly out of fear, and ends up cravenly bound and robbed rather than fighting back. He denies knowing anything about love to the Lady (played by Alicia Vikander, who also plays his lover at the start of the film with a decidedly ropey Yorkshire accent, sorry to say). He seems to shrink from the responsibility thrust on him, rather than rise to meet it (his only honorable act, retrieving Winifred’s head, is discussed above) and yet here he still is, plugging away. Why is he doing this? What does he really stand to gain, other than accepting a choice and its consequences (somewhat?) The film raises these questions, but it has no plans to answer them. It’s going to leave you to think about them for yourself, and it isn’t going to spoon-feed you any ultimate moral or neat resolution. In this interchange, it’s easy to see both the echoes of a formal dialogue between two speakers (a favored medieval didactic tactic) and the broader purpose of chivalric literature: to interrogate what it actually means to be a knight, how personal honor is generated, acquired, and increased, and whether engaging in these pointless and bloody “war games” is actually any kind of real path to lasting glory.

The film’s treatment of race, gender, and queerness obviously also merits comment. By casting Dev Patel, an Indian-born actor, as an Arthurian hero, the film is… actually being quite accurate to the original legends, doubtless much to the disappointment of assorted internet racists. The thirteenth-century Arthurian romance Parzival (Percival) by the German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach notably features the character of Percival’s mixed-race half-brother, Feirefiz, son of their father by his first marriage to a Muslim princess. Feirefiz is just as heroic as Percival (Gawaine, for the record, also plays a major role in the story) and assists in the quest for the Holy Grail, though it takes his conversion to Christianity for him to properly behold it.

By introducing Patel (and Sarita Chowdhury as Morgause) to the visual representation of Arthuriana, the film quietly does away with the “white Middle Ages” cliché that I have complained about ad nauseam; we see background Asian and black members of Camelot, who just exist there without having to conjure up some complicated rationale to explain their presence. The Lady also uses a camera obscura to make Gawain’s portrait. Contrary to those who might howl about anachronism, this technique was known in China as early as the fourth century BCE and the tenth/eleventh century Islamic scholar Ibn al-Haytham was probably the best-known medieval authority to write on it extensively; Latin translations of his work inspired European scientists from Roger Bacon to Leonardo da Vinci. Aside from the symbolism of an upside-down Gawain (and when he sees the portrait again during the ‘fall of Camelot’, it is right-side-up, representing that Gawain himself is in an upside-down world), this presents a subtle challenge to the prevailing Eurocentric imagination of the medieval world, and draws on other global influences.

As for gender, we have briefly touched on it above; in the original SGGK, Gawain’s entire journey is revealed to be just a cruel trick of Morgan Le Fay, simply trying to destabilize Arthur’s court and upset his queen. (Morgan is the old blindfolded woman who appears in the Lord and Lady’s castle and briefly approaches Gawain, but her identity is never explicitly spelled out.) This is, obviously, an implicitly misogynistic setup: an evil woman plays a trick on honorable men for the purpose of upsetting another woman, the honorable men overcome it, the hero survives, and everyone presumably lives happily ever after (at least until Mordred arrives).

Instead, by plunging the outcome into doubt and the hero into a much darker and more fallible moral universe, TGK shifts the blame for Gawain’s adventure and ultimate fate from Morgan to Gawain himself. Likewise, Guinevere is not the passive recipient of an evil deception but in a way, the catalyst for the whole thing. She breaks the seal on the Green Knight’s message with a weighty snap; she becomes the oracle who reads it out, she is alarming rather than alarmed, she disrupts the complacency of the court and silently shows up all the other knights who refuse to step forward and answer the Green Knight’s challenge. Gawain is not given the ontological reassurance that it’s just a practical joke and he’s going to be fine (and thanks to the unresolved ending, neither are we). The film instead takes the concept at face value in order to push the envelope and ask the simple question: if a man was going to be actually-for-real beheaded in a year, why would he set out on a suicidal quest? Would you, in Gawain’s place, make the same decision to cast aside the enchanted belt and accept your fate? Has he made his name, will he be remembered well? What is his legacy?

Indeed, if there is any hint of feminine connivance and manipulation, it arrives in the form of the implication that Gawain’s mother has deliberately summoned the Green Knight to test her son, prove his worth, and position him as his childless uncle’s heir; she gives him the protective belt to make sure he won’t actually die, and her intention all along was for the future shown in the epilogue to truly play out (minus the collapse of Camelot). Only Gawain loses the belt thanks to his cowardice in the encounter with the scavengers, regains it in a somewhat underhanded and morally questionable way when the Lady is attempting to seduce him, and by ultimately rejecting it altogether and submitting to his uncertain fate, totally mucks up his mother’s painstaking dynastic plans for his future. In this reading, Gawain could be king, and his mother’s efforts are meant to achieve that goal, rather than thwart it. He is thus required to shoulder his own responsibility for this outcome, rather than conveniently pawning it off on an “evil woman,” and by extension, the film asks the question: What would the world be like if men, especially those who make war on others as a way of life, were actually forced to face the consequences of their reckless and violent actions? Is it actually a “game” in any sense of the word, especially when chivalric literature is constantly preoccupied with the question of how much glorious violence is too much glorious violence? If you structure social prestige for the king and the noble male elite entirely around winning battles and existing in a state of perpetual war, when does that begin to backfire and devour the knightly class – and the rest of society – instead?

This leads into the central theme of Gawain’s relationships with the Lord and Lady, and how they’re treated in the film. The poem has been repeatedly studied in terms of its latent (and sometimes… less than latent) queer subtext: when the Lord asks Gawain to pay back to him whatever he should receive from his wife, does he already know what this involves; i.e. a physical and romantic encounter? When the Lady gives kisses to Gawain, which he is then obliged to return to the Lord as a condition of the agreement, is this all part of a dastardly plot to seduce him into a kinky green-themed threesome with a probably-not-human married couple looking to spice up their sex life? Why do we read the Lady’s kisses to Gawain as romantic but Gawain’s kisses to the Lord as filial, fraternal, or the standard “kiss of peace” exchanged between a liege lord and his vassal? Is Gawain simply being a dutiful guest by honoring the bargain with his host, actually just kissing the Lady again via the proxy of her husband, or somewhat more into this whole thing with the Lord than he (or the poet) would like to admit? Is the homosocial turning homoerotic, and how is Gawain going to navigate this tension and temptation?

If the question is never resolved: well, welcome to one of the central medieval anxieties about chivalry, knighthood, and male bonds! As I have written about before, medieval society needed to simultaneously exalt this as the most honored and noble form of love, and make sure it didn’t accidentally turn sexual (once again: how much male love is too much male love?). Does the poem raise the possibility of serious disruption to the dominant heteronormative paradigm, only to solve the problem by interpreting the Gawain/Lady male/female kisses as romantic and sexual and the Gawain/Lord male/male kisses as chaste and formal? In other words, acknowledging the underlying anxiety of possible homoeroticism but ultimately reasserting the heterosexual norm? The answer: Probably?!?! Maybe?!?! Hell if we know??! To say the least, this has been argued over to no end, and if you locked a lot of medieval history/literature scholars into a room and told them that they couldn’t come out until they decided on one clear answer, they would be in there for a very long time. The poem seemingly invokes the possibility of a queer reading only to reject it – but once again, as in the question of which canon we end up in at the film’s end, does it?

In some lights, the film’s treatment of this potential queer reading comes off like a cop-out: there is only one kiss between Gawain and the Lord, and it is something that the Lord has to initiate after Gawain has already fled the hall. Gawain himself appears to reject it; he tells the Lord to let go of him and runs off into the wilderness, rather than deal with or accept whatever has been suggested to him. However, this fits with film!Gawain’s pattern of rejecting that which fundamentally makes him who he is; like Peter in the Bible, he has now denied the truth three times. With the scavengers he denies being a knight; with the Lady he denies knowing about courtly love; with the Lord he denies the central bond of brotherhood with his fellows, whether homosocial or homoerotic in nature. I would go so far as to argue that if Gawain does die at the end of the film, it is this rejected kiss which truly seals his fate. In the poem, the Lord and the Green Knight are revealed to be the same person; in the film, it’s not clear if that’s the case, or they are separate characters, even if thematically interrelated. If we assume, however, that the Lord is in fact still the human form of the Green Knight, then Gawain has rejected both his kiss of peace (the standard gesture of protection offered from lord to vassal) and any deeper emotional bond that it can be read to signify. The Green Knight could decide to spare Gawain in recognition of the courage he has shown in relinquishing the enchanted belt – or he could just as easily decide to kill him, which he is legally free to do since Gawain has symbolically rejected the offer of brotherhood, vassalage, or knight-bonding by his unwise denial of the Lord’s freely given kiss. Once again, the film raises the overall thematic and moral question and then doesn’t give one straight (ahem) answer. As with the medieval anxieties and chivalric texts that it is based on, it invokes the specter of queerness and then doesn’t neatly resolve it. As a modern audience, we find this unsatisfying, but once again, the film is refusing to conform to our expectations.

As has been said before, there is so much kissing between men in medieval contexts, both ceremonial and otherwise, that we’re left to wonder: “is it gay or is it feudalism?” Is there an overtly erotic element in Gawain and the Green Knight’s mutual “beheading” of each other (especially since in the original version, this frees the Lord from his curse, functioning like a true love’s kiss in a fairytale). While it is certainly possible to argue that the film has “straightwashed” its subject material by removing the entire sequence of kisses between Gawain and the Lord and the unresolved motives for their existence, it is a fairly accurate, if condensed, representation of the anxieties around medieval knightly bonds and whether, as Carolyn Dinshaw put it, a (male/male) “kiss is just a kiss.” After all, the kiss between Gawain and the Lady is uncomplicatedly read as sexual/romantic, and that context doesn’t go away when Gawain is kissing the Lord instead. Just as with its multiple futurities, the film leaves the question open-ended. Is it that third and final denial that seals Gawain’s fate, and if so, is it asking us to reflect on why, specifically, he does so?

The film could play with both this question and its overall tone quite a bit more: it sometimes comes off as a grim, wooden, over-directed Shakespearean tragedy, rather than incorporating the lively and irreverent tone that the poem often takes. It’s almost totally devoid of humor, which is unfortunate, and the Grim Middle Ages aesthetic is in definite evidence. Nonetheless, because of the comprehensive de-historicizing and the obvious lack of effort to claim the film as any sort of authentic representation of the medieval past, it works. We are not meant to understand this as a historical document, and so we have to treat it on its terms, by its own logic, and by its own frames of reference. In some ways, its consistent opacity and its refusal to abide by modern rules and common narrative conventions is deliberately meant to challenge us: as before, when we recognize Arthur, Merlin, the Round Table, and the other stock characters because we know them already and not because the film tells us so, we have to fill in the gaps ourselves. We are watching the film not because it tells us a simple adventure story – there is, as noted, shockingly little action overall – but because we have to piece together the metatext independently and ponder the philosophical questions that it leaves us with. What conclusion do we reach? What canon do we settle in? What future or resolution is ultimately made real? That, the film says, it can’t decide for us. As ever, it is up to future generations to carry on the story, and decide how, if at all, it is going to survive.

(And to close, I desperately want them to make my much-coveted Bisclavret adaptation now in more or less the same style, albeit with some tweaks. Please.)

Further Reading

Ailes, Marianne J. ‘The Medieval Male Couple and the Language of Homosociality’, in Masculinity in Medieval Europe, ed. by Dawn M. Hadley (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 214–37.

Ashton, Gail. ‘The Perverse Dynamics of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 15 (2005), 51–74.

Boyd, David L. ‘Sodomy, Misogyny, and Displacement: Occluding Queer Desire in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 8 (1998), 77–113.

Busse, Peter. ‘The Poet as Spouse of his Patron: Homoerotic Love in Medieval Welsh and Irish Poetry?’, Studi Celtici 2 (2003), 175–92.

Dinshaw, Carolyn. ‘A Kiss Is Just a Kiss: Heterosexuality and Its Consolations in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Diacritics 24 (1994), 205–226.

Kocher, Suzanne. ‘Gay Knights in Medieval French Fiction: Constructs of Queerness and Non-Transgression’, Mediaevalia 29 (2008), 51–66.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 273–86.

Kuefler, Matthew. ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’, in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179–214.

McVitty, E. Amanda, ‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77.

Mieszkowski, Gretchen. ‘The Prose Lancelot's Galehot, Malory's Lavain, and the Queering of Late Medieval Literature’, Arthuriana 5 (1995), 21–51.

Moss, Rachel E. ‘ “And much more I am soryat for my good knyghts’ ”: Fainting, Homosociality, and Elite Male Culture in Middle English Romance’, Historical Reflections / Réflexions historiques 42 (2016), 101–13.

Zeikowitz, Richard E. ‘Befriending the Medieval Queer: A Pedagogy for Literature Classes’, College English 65 (2002), 67–80.

[flowercrown-bard]

I was today years old when I found out that cornflowers can also be white/purple and pink.

My first instinct was to never refer to Jaskier’s eyes as being the colour of cornflowers again. My second instinct was to write this instead:

Soulmate AU

word count: ~3k

pairing: Geraskier

Content warnings: blood, injuries

The Colour of Cornflowers

Jaskier’s eyes were the colour of the sky, of the sea, of sapphires. At least that was what people said, when they tried and often succeeded in wooing Jaskier. People who had been lucky enough to have found their soulmates and foolish enough to risk that happiness for a bard who would leave them come the morning.

Geralt would never understand those people. They had something so precious, so special and they were willing to throw it away for a pretty pair of eyes.

Geralt never understood those comparisons to sky, sea and sapphire either, and not only just because he had never seen the colour of either of those things. They just sounded so… cliché. As if someone tried painfully hard to sound like a poet. And didn’t the sky change colour during the dawn or at night? Did every body of water have the same colour? And didn’t some lord or another once proudly present his differently coloured sapphires, knowing full well that Geralt wasn’t able to distinguish between them anyway?

And he never would. It wasn’t uncommon for people to never see the world in colour – soulmates were rare and it wasn’t unheard of that some people lost all sight of colour after rejecting their soulmates for whatever reason.

But all of those people could at least still hope to have the world burst into colour at some point in their lives. Unlike Geralt.

“It is a mercy,” Vesemir had said when he had explained to the frightened boys that would become witchers or die in the trials that they would lose the ability to ever find their soulmates, “that you won’t have to go through that. You won’t get distracted by searching for them. And you won’t get your hearts broken.”

Because even then, Vesemir hadn’t made them believe what everyone else accepted as fact: That witchers didn’t feel, didn’t love.

Vesemir had known better. And he had known that that didn’t change a damn thing. A witcher would fall in love all he wanted, no one would ever accept a witcher’s love.

When Geralt had been younger, he had told himself he would be different. He had thought himself a knight that would one day rescue a damsel or meet a stable boy who loved horses as much as he did. He had thought they might fall in love – for who wouldn’t want to love a hero? – and they would be happy together, Destiny and soulmates be damned.

And then he had saved his first damsel. When she had seen his face, she had screamed and vomited and passed out. And Geralt for the first time understood what Vesemir had meant when he had said it was a mercy not knowing one’s soulmate.

Whoever was cursed to be a witcher’s soulmate, they would draw back in horror once they saw the sickly yellow of their eyes – at least that was how Geralt’s eyes had been described to him – and they would reek of fear rather than of love when they realised just whom Destiny had bound them to.

No human should have to get punished with such a fate. And Geralt knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from shattering if he ever saw disgust on his soulmate’s face.

So it was better that he would never know if he ever met them. It was better that he would never see the colour of Jaskier’s eyes.

He didn’t need to anyway. People never shut up about them, after all.

Between all of those descriptions that made Geralt want to roll his eyes, there was one that somehow got stuck in his mind, no matter how he wanted to shake it off.

Cornflowers.

For some reason it sounded right. Geralt was sure a poet, or even just about any man who was better with words than him, would be able to create a beautiful and meaningful connection between Jaskier and the preciousness of gems, the ever-moving sea or the freedom of the sky or other such sappy nonsense.

But cornflowers…Jaskier had named himself after a flower, hadn’t he? And cornflowers weren’t so different from buttercups. He had heard farmers complain about them, about how difficult they were to get rid of once they had started sprouting in their fields.

Geralt’s lips had twitched upwards when he had heard that and looked at Jaskier who had returned his side-eye with a cheeky wink, as if he knew exactly that Geralt was thinking about the way Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt no matter how hard he had tried to prevent that.

He tried no longer.

He had grown used to Jaskier’s presence. No, it was more than that. He had gotten to appreciate it. To enjoy the humming and chattering. To relish in the feeling of Jaskier running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. To feel his stomach twist in anticipation when he saw Jaskier again after months spent apart.

And when they were apart, Geralt found himself looking at cornflowers, unable to stop his lips from twitching into a soft smile. He might not be able to see their colour and never would, but that didn’t change the fact that they reminded him of Jaskier and of how he hadn’t drawn back in disgust or flinch from his touch even once.

Of course it helped that Jaskier had never seen his eyes in colour either. He couldn’t have. Because if he did, then surely he would have reacted in some way. No one, not even Jaskier was that good an actor.

True, his songs about Geralt often featured descriptions of his eyes – of honey, gold and sunflowers – but Geralt didn’t need to see colours to know that those descriptions were ludicrous. Predatory, sickly, creepy. That was how his eyes were normally described. Jaskier must have just heard the word ‘yellow’ and then asked other people for other, more pleasant things of the same colour. For surely, no one who had ever seen his eyes as they really were would think of something so kind that the first time Geralt had heard it, he had to leave the room for he was sure that he wasn’t able to keep the fondness and admiration he felt in that moment out of his eyes.

Fleeing hadn’t helped, of course. Jaskier didn’t need to sing of honey-eyes or silver moonlight-hair to make Geralt’s chest clench and his fingers itch to reach out and pull Jaskier close.

A single smile from him was enough. A quiet moment shared by a fire. Laughter and bad jokes as they travelled side by side.

Witchers could love and in those moments, Geralt was more thankful that fact than he had ever been for anything else. Loving Jaskier was beautiful.

And it was the most painful and terrifying thing Geralt could imagine.

Never in his life had Geralt been as scared as he had been when he had seen Jaskier run towards him while he was in the middle of a fight. For a terrifying moment, when the griffin’s talons had hit their mark and torn deep gashes into Jaskier’s chest, he had thought this was it. This was how Jaskier died. Because of him.

But as Geralt had dropped to his knees next to him, pressing his hands against the wounds and pleading with Jaskier to stay with him, Jaskier hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t yelled at him or tried to evade his touch. Instead he had lifted one of Geralt’s hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against it, heedless of the blood sticking to them.

Jaskier’s eyes had fallen shut and Geralt’s blood had run cold.

His eyes had opened again, later, when Geralt had bandaged up his wounds and brushed his hair out of his forehead tenderly, the same way Jaskier sometimes did with Geralt’s hair when he woke up, drenched in sweat and with his heart racing from a nightmare about the trials, about the day he had lost all hope of ever finding his soulmate.

When Jaskier’s eyes had fluttered open and his face had broken into a smile so soft as if Geralt was the most beautiful sight Jaskier could imagine, Geralt had known. He could never let something like this happen again. As long as Jaskier was with Geralt, he was in danger.

But Geralt had also known that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of Jaskier – neither would he be strong enough to push him away, nor would Jaskier ever willingly go.

Not until Geralt did the unthinkable. Through friendship, through deadly injuries and insults being spat at them, Jaskier stayed with Geralt. But even he had his limits. Even he wouldn’t be able to stay with a witcher, knowing he was loved by him. By a mutant, monster, butcher.

Geralt knew it, the world knew it and surely Jaskier himself knew it too: Jaskier deserved better than someone like him, better than being loved by someone like him. Confessing his feelings to Jaskier would be the last straw that would finally make Jaskier act upon this knowledge and go find someone good enough for him. Someone who wouldn’t put him in danger. Perhaps even someone who could tell Jaskier that his eyes looked like cornflowers and see it too.

Geralt knew that saying the words would irrevocably drive Jaskier from his side. He knew the moment of rejection and disgust would forever be branded in his mind. It would be the thing Geralt would remember when he got injured on a hunt while knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him with a worried look and tender touches.

And yet. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to just say it. He only got one chance to tell Jaskier how he felt, and although it would end in Geralt being shattered and alone, he wanted to relish the moment, the chance to let himself believe for even just a moment that Jaskier wouldn’t push himself away.

So Geralt waited and planned. A part of him knew that he was selfish, that he was only drawing this out so that he would get to keep Jaskier by his side a little longer. Another part of him wanted it to be perfect. He wanted Jaskier to think back to Geralt and remember someone who had tried despite everything to give Jaskier a confession that he deserved.

Except, Geralt wouldn’t ever be able to give such a thing to Jaskier. He wasn’t good enough for him and neither would anything he could ever give him be.

He didn’t have poetic words or grand gestures.

A simple gesture would have to be enough. Maybe it would even help to make Jaskier leave.

It was pure coincidence that they passed the field that day. Jaskier’s hair was lighter than normal in the sun and his smile was bright and easy. Geralt let himself look at him like this one last time. Jaskier was beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like Geralt.

Geralt shouldn’t get to keep him. He had to do it. Now.

Taking a shaking breath and clenching his jaw as if that would stop his hands from trembling, he bent down and plucked the cornflowers right out of the field.

To Geralt they were different shades of grey, ranging from almost white to dark grey, but to anyone else, they would be blue. Like Jaskier’s eyes.

As much as Geralt had always told himself that it was a good thing that he wasn’t Jaskier’s soulmate, he now wished more than anything, that he would have gotten to see the colour of Jaskier’s. He didn’t need to see the world in colour. Knowing blue would have been enough.  Then he would have more than grey flowers to remind himself of Jaskier when he was gone.

“Jaskier.” His voice came out slightly hoarse and he had to clear his throat.

It was of no use. As soon as Jaskier turned around and laid eyes on the flowers Geralt held out to him, his throat tightened again.

At the same time, Jaskier’s eyes darted between the flowers and Geralt’s face, searching for something, looking almost achingly hopeful. Though for what, Geralt couldn’t tell. Perhaps Jaskier was for once silently pleading Geralt not to continue talking.

He did it anyway.

“Jaskier, I…these are for you.”

He took a step closer to Jaskier, half-expecting him to draw back. Instead Jaskier too came towards him with hesitant wonder in his eyes and took the flowers from Geralt’s hands. Their fingers brushed and the simple touch sent a jolt through Geralt. This would be the last time he would ever get to feel Jaskier’s skin against his.

“Geralt.” Jaskier sounded choked and there was a watery shine to his eyes that made Geralt’s chest tight and his now empty hands ball helplessly into fists. “Those are beautiful.”

“Like you,” Geralt said, before he had time to think and swallow the words. “Like your eyes. They – cornflowers. They look like your eyes.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment but he didn’t move. Geralt knew he had to say more, had to get Jaskier to turn tail and leave Geralt behind, but the words got stuck in his throat and burned like shards of glass cutting into him.

Still, as the moment dragged on, it seemed that Geralt didn’t need to say anything else. Jaskier let out a strangled sound, clearly supressing something else. Not for long, though. Not a heartbeat later, a laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and once that first chuckle was out, he wouldn’t stop himself.

Ice pierced Geralt’s heart and he had to look away. For the first time he couldn’t bear to look at the way Jaskier’s face lit up as he laughed. He should have known. Jaskier was kind, but he was also expressive beyond believe. Geralt had no doubt that he would have tried to let him down gently, but it seemed that the idea of a witcher trying to be romantic was too ridiculous for even Jaskier to keep his composure.

“Oh, oh Geralt,” Jaskier said in between laughs, gasping for air and wiping away tears that had spilt free with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh. You’re being very sweet, it’s just-“

“I know. You don’t need to say it. I know.” Geralt interrupted, suddenly desperate not to have Jaskier say it out loud. Seeing him leave was one thing. He could still pretend that it was no different than when they separated for the winter. But hearing Jaskier outright tell him that Geralt’s feelings were a joke to him – Geralt wouldn’t be able to bear it, to have these words join the ones of hatred and disdain that he remembered whenever he lay awake at night, kept awake by self-doubt and shame.  

“Oh, I don’t think you do,” Jaskier said and his smile didn’t falter, as if he wasn’t tearing Geralt’s heart out with it. “It’s just…Geralt, I know you can’t know this, but…my eyes are blue.”

“I do know.”

“Yes, well, but these flowers aren’t. They are lovely, of course, but this one for example is very clearly pink.” He tilted his head to the side like a bird as he looked at Geralt with mirth in his eyes. “You know, it’s almost the same colour your cheeks get sometimes when I sing about you.”

A painful spike shot through his heart. The flowers weren’t blue. The one thing he had known to do to try his hand at a romantic, albeit simple gesture and he had messed it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to do even such a simple thing. Of course Jaskier would –

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and his eyes widened as the full meaning of Jaskier’s words came crashing down on him.

The flowers were pink. Jaskier knew, he saw, that they were pink.

“You can see colours.” He had meant for it to be a question, but it came out as a bitter truth.

Jaskier’s cheeks darkened. “I…yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

“Why-how long?”

Jaskier swallowed nervously and his eyes darted away for a second, before finding Geralt’s again, pleading and scared. He clutched the flowers to his chest as if he feared Geralt would tear them off his hands.

“You know how long,” he said softly, almost apologetic. “Ever since I first saw you.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. This wasn’t- this couldn’t be. He had expected Jaskier to flee from him, to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way. He had never expected him to be cruel. “No, you don’t – You can’t be. I can’t be.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology tumbled out of Jaskier’s mouth fast enough to slur the words together and his hand shot out to seize Geralt by the wrist. The touch burned him even through his clothes. “I know you don’t like Destiny. I never should have said… I don’t want you to force you into this. You must believe me.”

Geralt’s mind went blank. It almost sounded…he shouldn’t be foolish enough to believe this. He shouldn’t feel hope burning in his chest, but the way Jaskier said it….it didn’t sound as if he himself hated the idea of being soulmates with a witcher.

“You wanted me to choose you?” Geralt asked bewildered, still unable to comprehend.

Jaskier’s eyes softened and his smile turned into something bittersweet. “That was all I had ever wanted. I always thought you wouldn’t, but now…Please don’t take this back. Don’t tell me this isn’t what you chose, just because it’s the choice Destiny wanted you to make.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I couldn’t care less what Destiny wants me to do.”

Jaskier’s face fell when Geralt pulled his wrist out of his grip. After a moment of hesitation, Geralt lifted his now free hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier let out a soft gasp, before leaning into the touch with an unknown desperation.

“I choose you,” Geralt said, his fingers caressing Jaskier’s skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier said urgently. “I would choose you time and time again, whether Destiny wanted me to or not.”

Geralt’s throat went tight once more. “You know I can’t see colours. You know I won’t ever be able to compare your eyes to something and know it’s what they look like.” His gaze dropped to the flowers in Jaskier’s hand. “I can’t give you flowers the right colour.”

Jaskier let out a watery laugh. He turned his head and kissed the palm of Geralt’s hand, before taking one of the flowers – perhaps a pink one, perhaps one of a different colour entirely – out of the posy and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter. The colour never mattered. They are beautiful. Because they come from you.”

“You are beautiful,” Geralt echoed. “Because you are you. Colour or no.”

His hand trailed down until he was gently holding his chin, titling his head up ever so slightly.

“Jaskier?” he asked, one last hesitation, one last chance for Jaskier to choose to take his words back.

Jaskier made his choice.

He leaned forward and pressed their lips into a soft kiss.

Geralt had always known that loving Jaskier was beautiful, but in this moment Geralt learned for the first time, that nothing, no flowers and no colours could ever be as beautiful as it was being loved by Jaskier.

[adversitybloomed]

          she had found it strange how easily her father seemed to allow rand to take over the court, especially since he had always been so proud. yet it did not surprise her at how accepting everyone had become the moment the whispers began of the dragons return. joy had spread to her people at the knowledge of her upcoming marriage to him, the pride of her father especially making it harder to say no. she never thought that she would be married, for she had focused her attention on helping her kingdom and assuring their safety.

          part of her now feared for the future for all of her planning seemed to still the moment she had accepted her duty and a new worry flowed through her mind. would she even make a good wife ? a mother even ━━ for though she loved children and had always wanted to be one, she could not help but worry that she was not ready for this next step. what would he expect of her once he brought her back to his homeland and palace ? could there even be a chance that they could love each other or was their fate sealed in tragedy ? all of these thoughts began to swirl in her mind as she waited for him to acknowledge her.

          in truth, even watching him now, she could not help but wonder what marriage would be like with him, especially since he seemed to be as unreadable as the dark side of the moon. casting her eyes away for a moment, she could see how people looked at him, the dawn of hope shining within their eyes as they leaned together to whisper. it was then that she realized that not even her elder sister acting up could ruin their moods, for their kingdom had been blessed by the heavens to have their princess chosen to be his queen. none here would bring him harm and she began to wonder if there were already so many lined up to join his forces.

        ❝  as you wish.  ❞    she whispered in favor of his rejection, for she was glad that he had at least eaten his fill of her kingdoms food. her eyes returned to rand quickly enough, after he began to speak, her gaze trying to study him as his aura made her itch out to trace it's intricate dance. there was so much red to it ━━ as it waived its way through an ancient source. to keep herself from doing anything foolish, she put down the glass on the table and placed her hands within her lap. heads bowed as they chanted back to him in acknowledgement, her own father including ❛ dragon lord ❜.  she did not say anything in return, instead her eyes meeting towards one of his chiefs as she took in the look he gave before returning her eyes back to her fiancé.

          many looked in shock at his question, her own eyes widening as she glanced towards her father who seemed to be in thought. it was not custom to let a unwed woman be alone with a man, but he seemed to rise before motioning for the others to clear way before turning to face him with a slight bow.      ❝  her handmaiden will wait just outside the doors, i trust you will find rest, 我未來的女婿 ( Wǒ wèilái de nǚxù - my future son-in-law ).  ❞    motioning for his empress to rise, li soon joined him by taking his arm and leaving the throne room, many clearing out quickly with undertones of shock.

          mulan waited until the room cleared before rising from her seat. lifting her hands she motioned in a spell cast, her movements delicate as the weave of air to flow around her before pushing past her small space to create a safe zone for them to speak by creating a shell of protection. once she had finished, she turned to face him head tilting ever so slightly.      ❝  speaking to me alone is not exactly proper, at least not until you are my husband. but i suppose being that you are the 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅 it is easier to get away with breaking rules.   ❞    pausing her arms moved to cross her chest,      ❝  what is it you wish to speak to me about ?  ❞

He had never intended for this to happen but The Wise Ones had told him that it might be necessary. The Wise Ones had declared that they had dreamwalked and seen something that could have pertained to a strong alliance between himself and this land. It was a strange thought that he made himself agree with. He had never wanted marriage this way as a boy and now he hadn't wanted marriage at all. After all his death would only leave a widow and orphans in its wake - were he to ever have children. It took a great amount of control to remain seated where he was. The throne that he sat on, called the Dragon Throne here but far different than the one that he had in Cairhien, was almost uncomfortable. He had never found any thrones to be comfortable and he was trying hard to not appear arrogant here. After all they had yet to show any shades of deception towards him and, for the time being, Lews Therin wasn't rearing in anger. His mind had drawn away from the moment. He thought of The Westlands and of how this was taking far too long. Yet it gave him ten thousand more men to his already inflated army but he also knew that the longer that he took with matters here the more that disaster could be striking The Westlands. There were so many enemies, so many Darkfriends, when would the Shadow strike next? When the man started talking about his daughter he blinked back to the moment and lifted his gaze to the woman that was standing before him. He was so wrapped up in the Void that he didn't feel a bloody thing. It was easier that way otherwise there would be so much pain everywhere, so much pain that he felt no matter what he did. Light, when was the last time that he didn't feel any of that? It was better that way. To remain cold and numb. Otherwise he might forget himself and seek out something possibly real with the woman standing before him. She was looking at him strangely and his brows furrowed as he looked back. She was searching his face and he tensed himself, not quite comfortable with people staring at him so intently even if it had been happening far too much lately.

A thin smile marked his face and he shook his head. "I'm alright." he told her with a small wave of his hand. "I also don't think that I have any room for dessert." He shifted in the seat and adjusted the coat that he was wearing, glancing towards Rhuarc - one of the clan chiefs - who bristled at the man that had presented his daughter. "And you all must simply call me Rand." He announced, knowing that the Aiel did not enjoy it when anyone else - Wetlanders as they called them - used their terms. "Or Lord Dragon."If Mat were here that would earn him a laugh. "Perhaps everyone should clear out?" He offered, looking over the room and then brought his eyes to Mulan. "Except Mulan? We are allowed to talk in private, are we not?"

[drwcn]

follow up to [post] exploring the crack au if lwj was a girl 

〒▽〒 ps im not trying to erase canon lwj representation, not at all, wangxian is mm in all my other fics, this is just stupid fun

in a ceteris paribus situation aka all other things staying equal: 

1) Lan Wangji 100% still has a resting bitch face, which probably would get her a couple of “Lan-er-guniang 美若天仙 (beautiful as an immortal/goddess) but would benefit from smiling more” comments but nobody is that desperate to die yet so, she’s spared. But damn... imagine the sheer number of thirsty boys who’d try to secure a marriage with LWJ. None of them is good enough for Wangji as far as Lan Xichen is concerned. Okay - maybe in Lan Xichen’s opinion, Nie Mingjue is good enough, but he couldn’t be less interested. I see her as I see Huaisang, Xichen please. 

2) Everything interaction between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in Wei Wuxian’s first life is now 500% more scandalous. 

Exhibit A) Their first meeting at the gates; Jiang Cheng immediately felt his spidey senses tingling.  —“You’d sooner have immortals flying out of your ass than get with someone like her. The second jade of Gusu? The pearl in old man Lan’s eyes? C’mon.”  —“Shut up, A-Cheng.” —“Uh-huh.”  —“Also, she’s not that pretty. Her brother Zewu-jun is much better. There’s a reason he’s ranked first.” WWX is still a disaster bi.  — “LMAO, you? Zewu-jun? Please.” 

Exhibit B) Just because LWJ is a girl does not mean WWX grew more brain cells. 

WWX, straight up to Lan Qiren’s face, “Lan-meimei and I - we’re zhiji.” (he means it like we’re kindred spirits, peas of a pod, etc)  LWJ: *does not deny* Lan Xichen: ⚆_⚆ Lan Qiren: ��╭╮ಠ

Exhibit C) Lan Wangji getting drunk the first time. Wei Wuxian knew he crossed a line the minute he invited Lan-er-guniang for a drink. Really, WWX, even for you, this is inappropriate. When Lan Wangji fell face first onto the table, Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up. “Hey....hey...Lan....Lan...-er-guniang,” He poked her. “Don’t...don’t sleep here! You can’t sleep here! If your Uncle finds out or if Jiang-shushu finds out...they’ll skin me alive and then...and then they’ll make me marry you! I don’t want to marry you; you don’t talk and I’m too young!” 

WWX, being a dipshit, “Hey Lan Zhan, call me Wei-gege.”  LWJ, drunk as fuck, “Wei..gege.”  WWX *((( heart )))* ??? 

Exhibit D) The Cold Pond. Okay, so I don’t think Zewu-jun would sabotage his sister’s virtue by sending a stupid teenage boy her way while she’s bathing, but doesn’t mean Su She is above all that. Wei “I didn’t see anything I swear!” Wuxian. Lan “I will gouge out your eyes.” Wangji. Somehow they still end up in the cave. Maybe WWX got in the water after LWJ got out and got sucked into the vortex and LWJ heard the commotion, turned around, saw WWX had disappeared. “Wei Ying?!” A panicked LWJ jumps back into the pond, “Stop fooling around, come out!” 

Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing 👀👀 when LWJ and WWX fall out of the cave together. Also the fact that Lan-er-guniang and Wei-gongzi went missing, together, for two days. Who knows what could’ve happened. I mean anything really. I mean... that’s gotta stir the pot a little were it not for the Yin Iron stealing everyone’s attention away from this bit of juicy scandal. 

Oh the whole story... so much to work with, so little time. 

3) Because Lan Wangji is a girl, now suddenly there’s a high ranking member of the Lan Clan who can host the girls at Cloud Recesses. I mean, Mianmian, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, Lan Wangji - SISTERLY FRIENDSHIP. Other than Mianmian, none of the girls are really talkers which suits Lan Wangji perfectly. Even Mianmian’s chatter is endearing.

4) Lan Wangji is absolutely still a powerhouse during the Sunshot Campaign. The inherent aesthetics of fem!lwj telling the Wen goons to “kneel” - no one will deprive me of this.  Also she will still cut off your arm if you cross her - Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao ya better watch out still. 

I am TORN between two options: Lan Wangji tol and kickass or Lan Wangji smol and kickass. On one hand, the aesthetics of willowy elf-like LWJ, on the other hand, 5′2′’ of whoop ass who can and will throw an unconscious wwx over her shoulder firewoman-style and toll him to safety.  

And amongst other things: 

A) Lan Wangji still becomes Chief Cultivator, because excuse me who else is left to clean up this mess? Jiang “Short-fuse” Wanyin? Nie “I won’t do what I’m not intended to do” Huaisang? Jin “13 year-old” Ling? Or Sect Leader Yao?  Technically, being a woman means that she was never Lan Xichen’s heir, but at the end of it, it’s not like Gusu Lan is left with a lot of choices.  Just the poetic justice of Gusu Lan pleading for Lan Wangji to come back when she fully intends to 隐居山野 (retreat into the mountains) with the resurrected WWX.

Lan Wangji being Chief Cultivator would echo Lan Yi’s tenure and rectify the fact that Gusu Lan’s only female head of family “failed”. Lan Yi had to face a mountain of prejudice because she was woman; someone has to say “up yours” to that. A woman as not only the sect master of Gusu Lan but the Chief Cultivator? Love that for Gusu Lans. (⌐■_■) ☞ ☞

B) Because of ~ sexism ~ I wonder if Lan Wangji would get titled “Hanguang” at all even after the Sunshot Campaign. Even Lan Yi, the SL Lan of her time didn’t have a title. Chances are LWJ won’t either. (Note: Violet Spider is not a title, it’s a moniker). So — say after the way Lan Wangji is still just “Lan-er-guniang”, and she does not obtain the title “Han Guang” until after she leaves Cloud Recesses and become rogue. (srsly how did they come up with these titles in canon, did gusu lan just look at 21 year old lwj and be like yah he’s lord light bearer *cue trevor noah stand up joke* why do you call yourself “great” britain? isn’t that a bit presumptuous? shouldn’t you go around doing good things and then let other people come to the conclusion: oh britain look how great you are? same logic with lwj.) 

Lan Wangji, a Jade of Gusu or a nameless rogue, still goes where trouble is, helping those who need it. After laying low for a year or two to heal, Lan Wangji began night hunting. Donned neck to ankle in white silk and tulle, and a weimao (wide brimmed veil hat) obscuring her face, she became known to the people as Hanguang Sanren, the lightbearing wanderer. Gusu’s highest power probably has some idea who she is - or at least they can guess - but the vast majority of people don’t. 

C) Lan Sizhui raised by rogue Lan Wangji as his mum would be different. Still cultured, respectful, but definitely with an air of keeping others at arm’s length. 

For instance, grown-up Sizhui running interference and saving a cohort of gentry disciples on joint hunts.

Jingyi: 这人谁呀？Who is this guy? Zizhen: 多谢兄台搭救之恩，小可看您眼生，敢问兄台尊姓大名，何门何派，改日当登门拜访. Many thanks for saving us. I don’t believe we’ve met, pray tell what is your name and sect, so we may visit at a later time to thank you for tonight. Sizhui: 在下无门无姓 ，单名思追 。举手之劳不足挂齿 ，怎敢劳烦各位名门子弟答谢。My name is Sizhui, belonging to no family and to no sect. As for tonight - I only did what anyone would; it bears no mentioning and requires no thanks. Jin Ling: 你这人，看你工力不凡，想和你交个朋友，可你怎么遮遮掩掩的。Hey you, we see you’re a talented cultivator and want to make your acquaintance. Why are you so dodge-y? Zizhen：金陵 — Jing Ling - Sizhui: 若是有缘，还会相见。告辞。If it’s fated, we will meet again. Farewell.  

Later:  Jingyi: 思。追。 思追谁？Si. Zhui. To recollect and long for whom?  Sizhui: 母亲的一位故人. Someone from Mother’s past.  Jingyi: 你父亲？...Your father?  Sizhui: 我不知。I don’t know. 

I thought about how cute it would be if sizhui and jin ling knew each other but guys...Jiang Cheng literally thinks he killed Sizhui’s biological father. Like he literally thinks he orphaned Sizhui before Sizhui is even born. And Lan Wangji would never accept anything from Jiang Wanyin, not that it would stop Jiang Wanyin from trying. 

A package of books here, a new robe for Sizhui there. Lan Wangji doesn’t know how Jiang Cheng keeps finding her. She and Sizhui are nomadic.  

D) The inevitable conversation after wwx is revived. 

You know what would be funnier than Jiang Cheng thinking Sizhui is a wangxian baby is if Lan Qiren thinks Sizhui is a wangxian baby. 

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽𝑰

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst and a little bit of fluff (for a change lol)

word count: 4,4k

taglist: @runawayolives​​​ @kmuir1​​​ @marytudorbrandon​​​ @lharrietg​​​ @shittingdicknipple​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​ @mis-lil-red​​ @amberangel112​​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​​ @radaofrivia​​​ @scarlets-widow​​​ @ragamuffin285​​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​​ @​​titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo​ ​

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the days in summer are long and even excruciating for charles, who has not seen his wife for nearly a week, and as disappointing as it is on his part, he cannot resist meredith’s charms, who remain at his disposal whenever he needs to drown his sorrows, or simply feel wanted by someone.

while he dresses up, meredith is still lying on the bed in the brothel room, covered only by a thin sheet.

“you are oddly quiet,” she observes. “do you want to tell me something?”

“no.”

“you lie, my lord.” she says with a smile. it’s comical for her when charles lies, because he doesn’t know how to, at least not to her. “tell me what ails you, dear. you should know by now that you can trust me.”

he sighs and turns to her.

“you know me too well, mer.” he chuckles. “my mind is full at the moment, that is all.”

meredith is obviously not convinced, but she’ll let it slide. she smiles at him and earns a kiss on the cheek. once he’s standing up, he gives her a smile before leaving her once again, in the first hours of the day.

he’s right — meredith knows him too well. it’s clear as day: charles is falling for the duchess, he’s just not aware of it. yet.

as he arrives at his home, charles wonders if y/n will finally leave her room today.

he had no idea of the impact she would feel when she was reunited with james after so long. there’s a lot he doesn’t know, and on one hand, he thinks it’s better not to, because what if he doesn’t like what might be left out? but on the other hand, he desperately wants to know everything there is to know.

clearly it’s something much bigger than just a broken love.

he fears for her health, since she has already expressed a certain sensitivity. y/n, despite being a tough woman, is very fragile and the more she tries to hide or deny her vulnerability, the more evident it becomes.

y/n is full of nuances that charles wants to explore, but he is afraid of discovering something that is impossible for him to accept or even understand. even though they’re getting along well, charles still doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, and that makes him uneasy.

while the duke suffers in silence from the state she finds herself in, y/n is in sheer agony.

once again, she is mourning. she’s mourning the idea of james that she had — that she held onto so strongly to keep herself sane as she navigated her new life as a duchess, married to a man she barely knows. she thought of james every night before falling asleep, and thought of him every morning, just so she felt any sort of strength to move on with the day.

there are no more tears to shed, though. just a great anger within her, something she has never experienced before. it’s quite interesting how the love and devotion she had for james is now pure hate and desire for revenge.

the moments at the party remain vivid in her mind, and she remembers it all so clearly. the moment she sees annika’s bump. when he says they can still be together. when he kisses her forcefully. when he clearly tries to manipulate her.

the more she relives the fateful moments in her head, the more fragmented her memory becomes, and she comes to realize implicit details. that james is so different from the man she fell in love with and promised to love for the rest of her life, even if married to another man, that it makes no sense to protect her good feelings.

the fact is, she is blind with hate, and when she puts something in her head, nothing and no one can make her give up her ideas.

(…)

“your grace, your breakfast has arrived.” beatrice says through the door.

y/n quickly dresses herself with a robe and opens the door, as she made it clear she doesn’t want anyone in her quarters. she tries her best to look better, but the pity look on beatrice’s face tells her all she needs to know: she failed.

“thank you, beatrice.” y/n says with a sad smile. “could you help me?”

“absolutely, your grace.”

the young lady-in-waiting pushes the silver cart with her breakfast to the small table near the window. y/n helps her put all of the plates, cups, silverware and bowls with all kinds of foods on the surface, and before beatrice excuses herself, y/n asks her to stay.

the feeling of loneliness is killing her slowly. the presence of beatrice is somehow comforting; is it because she’s a young woman and therefore she can relate to a lot of things? maybe. y/n is in dire need of a friend, and the sensation of distrust is emotionally exhausting. she knows she can trust charles, she just doesn’t do it completely. y/n wants to know if she can trust whoever is around her that is not her spouse.

“would you sit with me?” y/n asks, genuinely hoping she’ll say yes.

“o-of course, my lady.”

y/n has her breakfast in silence. the mere presence of someone else is comforting. beatrice, while finding her behavior quite odd, doesn’t judge her one bit. if she’s honest, she feels bad for the duchess. to most, her life seems to be perfect: married to a rich, handsome, royal man, she has the best clothes, the best home, the best food. if they only knew.

beatrice doesn’t know what pains her duchess so deeply, but whatever it is, it’s definitely taking the life out of her, and it’s heartbreaking to watch and not be able to do a single thing.

(…)

as much as he wants to help y/n, he can’t tell the king about the small issue that has been bothering them. he can’t tell henry about james. now that he’s married to a duchess and he’ll join them in the army, james will be more present in their lives, something charles senses is the last thing y/n wants.

as he tries to come up with anything to prevent james from even going to the war that approaches, while passing through the corridors, he meets with beatrice. he knows she’s possibly the only servant that is in y/n’s good graces, so she’s his only hope of obtaining any sort of information about his wife.

“your grace,” she bows down to him briefly.

“have you seen y/n?” he asks. his tone is sad, but desperate.

“yes, my lord. your grace is in her chambers reading a book. she requested to have lunch there, but she will have dinner with you.”

“oh!” he chuckles, absolutely not expecting such good news. “marvelous! i’ll check on her, then. thank you, beatrice.

“my lord,” she calls out for him, before he can follow to y/n’s room. “i am aware it is not my place to comment on it, and i beg of you not to throw me to the streets, but the duchess is in deep pain.” she says. “her eyes are lifeless.”

“do not concern yourself, beatrice. i will… do something.” he promises, still uncertain of what he will do.

beatrice bows down again, excusing herself to leave, and charles realizes his royal duties can wait. y/n needs help.

he goes directly to her chambers, and before he can knock on the door, she opens it, looking a lot better than what he expected. granted, she doesn’t look the best, after all, almost seven days locked inside a room with very little sunlight and barely eating — a pattern of hers whenever she’s not coping well with something — can’t do any good to a person, but she doesn’t look hopeless, which is a good sign.

“oh, my apologies!” he says.

“it is quite alright.” she chuckles. “may i ask what you are doing here?”

“i… um… i came to see you.”

charles’ worried face makes her a little upset with herself.

she really feels sincerity in what he says and does. it won’t be fair to him, but y/n strongly believes that james needs to get a taste of what she felt when she saw him next to his pregnant wife. perhaps this is her worst flaw: she can be incredibly vindictive, and she goes to great lengths to make people pay for what they caused her.

for the past two days, y/n have been planning to get revenge on james, and sharing her plan with charles seemed to be a good idea, but she doesn’t want it to fail. it has to be realistic. everybody must believe they are together. while she isn’t exactly happy that she’s doing all of that out of spite, she has nothing to lose. charles must believe she is falling for him, so his actions are genuine to the public and james. it shouldn’t be difficult if she plays her cards right.

“oh. i am here!” she gives him a small smile. “thank you for your concern, i greatly appreciate it.”

a smile blooms in his lips.

“should i wait for you tonight, then?”

“yes, of course. and, um, i have been thinking about playing new songs… from now on, if you want to listen, you are invited. no need to sneak around and frighten me.”

he laughs and is enamored by her playful smirk.

just as she was able to humanize him, charles has been allowing himself to look at her with different lenses. he always empathized with her, but it was difficult. she represented one of the things he hated most: being neglected. in his mind, she seems finally open to giving him a chance. in his mind, the duchess is slowly destroying the wall she built between them, and he couldn’t be happier.

it's a shame that the smiles and abrupt approach are premeditated.

(...)

after a lovely, yet quiet dinner, the duke and the duchess go to the piano room. she can’t contain her excitement over playing. as soon as they arrive, her body is immediately drawn to the piano.

“what are you playing tonight?”

“swan lake by tchaikovsky. do you like it?”

“i have thoroughly enjoyed everything you have played so far, this won’t be any different.”

with a smile, she begins to press the keys and soon enough the somber music starts to form and echo through the walls. it is fascinating for him how angelic and evil a song can be at the same time. watching her play, he can see how truly happy she is, as if all of her agonies and anxieties are gone. her fingers dance over the keys, and as the music progresses, he sees her almost turning into the melody itself before his eyes. it’s magical, how her interpretation of the music is brilliant and at the same time so dark.

he knows he’s falling for her.

if only the duchess knew that she doesn’t need to take much effort to hold the duke in the palm of her hand…

the fact is, charles sleeps and wakes up thinking about her. with each passing day, each dinner, each laughter exchanged, each affectionate look, charles feeds the feeling that started as just a request for truce and civility, and now he realizes that it could be something else. he knows he will need to play the right cards, because james is back, and he’s seen how he still gets a certain hold on the duchess. the most upsetting thing is that he feels the need to talk it out, to get everything out in the open, because his mind goes far with thoughts and assumptions.

y/n is still an enigma for him, and not knowing what goes inside her mind leaves him anxious and concerned. does she like him? what does she think of him? why is she suddenly so approachable?

once the music stops, charles comes back to reality. a smile appears in his lips when he realizes she’s looking at him. her posture is as erect as one should be, and yet, she seems the most relaxed.

“do you play any instruments?” she asks.

“no, i do not.” he admits. “i wish i could, i love music. when did you learn how to play?”

“when i was a child, both my parents insisted that i learn a variety of skills. i learned to read, write, speak french, spanish, portuguese and latin, play the piano, ride and fight at a very young age,” she explains, but her tone is melancholy. “as you already know my father, i don’t need to mince my words. he always wanted a son, of course. my mother had a difficult pregnancy, and the news that i was a girl did not please him very much. so, he hired every possible tutor to teach me anything early on to keep me occupied and consequently, not have to see me during the day.”

oh.

it is safe to say that charles expected anything but that. no wonder she despises her father so much. charles knows her father is a horrible human being, he doesn’t like him one bit either, but who would do this to their own child? what kind of person is this?

“i… i don’t know what to say. i am so deeply sorry.”

“don’t be,” she smiles, appreciating his sympathy. “playing is the thing i love the most, along with riding my horse. it wasn’t entirely bad.”

there is still a huge question mark between them: james. he wants to know all about that man, but the last thing he wants is to upset y/n or ruin the progress they’re currently making.

“do you wish to ask me something?” she inquires with a chuckle.

“why?”

“you look like you do.”

he laughs.

“i do have a million questions,” he admits. “however, i would rather get my answers naturally, that being, if you wish to tell me.”

she smiles, appreciative of the privacy he offers her.

“i suppose one of them is concerning what happened the last time we saw each other.” she looks down, quite ashamed of the entire situation. his lack of words is enough for her to know he does want to know about it. “before i get into details, you must know i never betrayed you. i am aware our marriage is an arrangement, but i would never do anything behind your back.”

oh, no.

the guilt falls on charles’ shoulders and it feels heavier than what he expected. now he doesn’t have the courage to tell her about his mistress.

“i believe you, y/n.” he assures her as he swallows thickly.

“since we are coming to an understanding, i must clarify a few things about myself,” she explains. “you deserve to know, and... i must get it out of my chest.”

he nods, and stays silent, just absorbing the information he wanted to know for so long.

“james was my first love,” she starts. “we met at a very young age, when we were children. however, as he comes from a poor family and i do not, my father, as you can imagine, was strongly against us being together, and i fought him, but i am not of much strength, especially when it comes to going against his wishes.” she says as disappointed as one could be. “there was nothing i could have done.”

he can tell she really loves that man, because her eyes are the saddest he’s ever seen. her voice is weak and she can’t even look him in the eyes. she seems to be reminiscing about her old times with james, and it bothers charles a lot, mostly because he absolutely did not get a good first impression of him.

“do you still love him?”

“no.” she reveals. “well, i am not so sure. i thought i knew him. i had written him letters, but he would not write back, so i assumed he was dead, because my father is capable of that… but i was mistaken, he was rather occupied marrying a gorgeous swedish duchess and getting her pregnant.”

the disappointment and jealousy are almost palpable in her voice, and charles just listens to her vent. when he stops to think about her reality, y/n has been very lonely. she has no friends near her, and doesn’t leave the castle except to ride her horse, but it’s still inside the estate. he feels a great need to keep her company, and it hurts him to see her so alone.

even if he has another kind of interest in her, even if she still has james in her head, even if she never sees him with other eyes, he will be there for her… if she accepts him after he has to say.

“there is something i must share, too.” he says, and she nods. charles takes a deep breath and looks anywhere but her eyes, already despising himself. “i have a mistress.”

“oh, charles,” she chuckles. “i… i know.”

“y-you know?” he frowns as puzzled as one can be. “how?”

“well, you are charles brandon, that was my first clue,” she laughs at his confused expression. “and, i can see the entrance of the castle from my chambers.”

to say he is mortified, it would be an understatement. her serene expression makes him even more perplexed.

“i’m afraid i don’t understand-”

“charles, i have no reason to expect commitment from you as, first of all, we are not a real couple, and second, fidelity isn’t your… strongest trait.” she says carefully, but her words don’t fall as gentle in his ears as she might have expected. “whether you like it or not, you’ve built a reputation, and i was well aware of it when i learned i was to wed you. so, do not waste time concerning yourself about what i might think, i truthfully do not care. after all, you are a man, you have your... needs.”

charles swallows thickly, not only because he’s shocked that she knew about his escapades the entire time, but because he knows levels down to james in terms of fidelity. both of them have cheated, regardless of the situation. the fact that she doesn’t care that he has a mistress is not at all relieving for him. it’s almost as if he wants her not to want him to have another woman.

“um… i must thank you for listening to me.” she flashes the sweetest, most grateful smile, warming up his heart all over again. “i trust that you will not share that with anybody.”

“of course,” he mumbles. “it’s our secret.”

with grace, she says good night to her husband and goes to her quarters. charles, on the other hand, is left speechless. the evening was eventful, and although he did enjoy most of it, it was a lot to take in. he’s not a fool, for him, there’s a very real chance he can make her fall in love with him, especially because she loathes james’ presence now. if he plays his cards right, his plan might work.

determined to start his plan, charles decides to go to the brothel one more time, but before going through the gate, he looks at y/n’s bedroom window. the curtains are closed, which indicates she is asleep. on his horse, he goes out to the brothel for the last time.

his relationship with meredith is so direct, to the point that words are implied. charles doesn’t have to say what he wants her to do, she knows him with the back of her hand, and she doesn’t have to work very hard to get him to open up to her, her loving, comforting gaze is enough (or maybe it’s the extreme need that he has to talk to someone who won’t judge him for wanting to talk about feelings).

tonight she is especially beautiful with her hair down. they are long, golden and perfectly curled, her brown eyes are deep and rich like the night sky, her lips are always in a gorgeous berry shade. she can comfort him only with a smile. he’s wondered several times why he can’t fall in love with meredith, it’s like something is missing.

“my lord, here you are again.” she smiles at the duke.

“i have something to tell you.” he states with a rather serious tone, one she is not at all familiar with.

her smile falls, and quite reluctantly, she leads him to her assigned bedroom. he sits on the bed and she sits on the dresser chair, facing each other. despite y/n’s words, he doesn’t want to do what james did, at least not again. for the first time in his life he wants to be completely honest, because margareth’s ghostly memories still haunt him. being with a mistress while his wife was passing away is, in his opinion, his worst sin, and he still can’t forgive himself for that.

“did something happen? are you alright?” she worriedly asks.

“yes, i am. um, i came here because i… i have made the decision to end our affair.”

meredith’s face breaks him. this is the part where monogamy is tricky for him. he is naturally capable of loving more than one person at the same time, it’s like he can share his love and affection for people, but he understands that even though he’s in a position that allows him to have as many women as he wants, he can’t, because hurting other people isn’t in his nature at all.

“have i done something wrong?” her thin voice asks, and she’s on the verge of tears.

“no, absolutely not!” he urges to say. “it’s-”

“it’s the duchess, isn’t it?” he lets out a sigh, and it’s enough for her to figure it all out. “you’ve finally realized you have feelings for her.”

“what do you mean ‘finally’?”

“oh, charles...” she chuckles humorlessly as she begins to pace around the bedroom. “you are physically attracted to women who physically desire you. you fall in love with women who challenge you. it happened with margareth, it is happening with y/n.” she explains with the most serenity. “i would dare to bet that you are thinking that you can make the duchess fall in love with you eventually.”

charles is both baffled and intrigued. does she really know him or is he that predictable and stupid?

“what if i am?” he cocks an eyebrow. “are you jealous that i want to court her and not you?”

“oh,” she laughs, throwing her head back and all he can see is pure debauchery. “charles, i am saddened to inform you that you are not the only powerful man i have gone to bed with. i am not jealous of you. while i do care about you, i have never loved you, as you have never loved me. am i mistaken?”

“...no.”

“despite being a traitor and scoundrel, you have a good heart.” she says and earns a chuckle from the duke, who wholeheartedly agrees with her, especially with the scoundrel part. “i am not saying the duchess will make you suffer, but if she hasn’t given you any indication that she has feelings for you, it’s unlikely she will at all.”

“i still want to give it a try.”

there’s nothing she can say that will change his mind. after a frank and humbling conversation, charles says goodbye to meredith, this time, definitely. the affection for her won’t disappear anytime soon, but his presence in that room will. before leaving, charles leaves a generous sum for her and a request that she be happy, because she deserves it.

the empty streets don’t bother him, but it’s late, and he needs to rest, his body begs for a hot bath and his bed. he can’t wait to tell y/n that he’s ended his affair with his lover, maybe she’ll feel happy and trust him more. he hopes so.

on his way back to the castle, charles leaves his horse in the stable and on his way back to the main entrance he sees the duchess in her nightdress holding a lantern in one hand and a book in the other.

“y/n? what are you doing awake?” he asks.

“oh! i couldn’t sleep so i decided to get a book.” she says. she notices he’s still in his dinner clothes, which can only mean he still hasn’t gone to bed. “what about you?”

“i… um…”

“you went to see her, didn’t you?” she assumes, a little reluctantly.

“yes,” he says. “but it is not what you might be thinking.”

“you don’t owe me any explanations.” she clarifies as her words echo in her head as a reminder to herself.

before she can turn around to go back to her chambers, he holds her by the arm. she’s impossibly close, and yet so far. all he wants is to kiss her lips, tell her to forget about james and to give him a chance, but he must give her time. he can’t ruin it because of his own rush.

“i ended my affair with her.”

“oh. um… i’m sure you will find someone who will make you happy.”

perception is something funny. charles thinks she doesn’t realize he’s in love with her. as for y/n, she knows exactly that he is falling in love with her. as nasty as it is, she’s telling him exactly what he needs to hear to think she’s innocent.

she knew he would be arriving from the brothel. her precision is unparalleled. playing puppet with him isn’t her favorite thing to do, but if she wants to hit james much worse, she has to be evil.

“thank you.”

she stands on her tiptoes and lightly presses her lips against his beaded cheek. she lingers a little too long, enough for charles to melt on the inside, but before she can let go of him, he captures her lips with his own, brushing their noses. she is taken by surprise but doesn’t flinch. feeling her lips against hers is better than a dream. he kisses her gently, sucking her lips with his own, and he doesn’t hesitate to hold cup face, afraid she’ll slip out of his arms at any moment, but she pulls apart, a little breathless.

“good night charles.”

[bbangsoonie]

good for nothing

member: juyeon genre: angst (royal au) word count: 4,635 synopsis: despite being the first born and the kingdom’s princess, you lived your whole life in the shadow of the crown prince born to a concubine. in your plot for revenge, a fool in love comes along your path. warning(s): violence

kingdom masterlist

Princess Y/n. You were the first born of the king and queen, educated beyond societal standards for girls, and incredibly beautiful. Yet, you were disregarded and looked down on since the moment you were born. Your brother, who was born to a concubine, was the crown prince and received much greater respect. The reason? You were a girl. A good-for-nothing girl as your father called you on multiple occasions.

The king was ashamed to have his first born be a daughter. He also felt threatened by your rejection of the status quo. Because of this, he grabbed every opportunity to make you submit to him.

You were exceptionally smart but no one cared to notice. Your desire to learn was ignored and you were forced to embroider butterfly patterns instead. At a young age, you realized your place. You knew your designated fate was to be a political pawn meant to be married off at a beautiful age. To protect the royal family that never considered you as one of their own, you were to marry a complete stranger one day.

However, just because you realized your place didn’t mean you accepted it. You defied the rules at every chance you saw. You remained a headache for the king, but a small enough headache to avoid his wrath.

Unbeknownst to him, you were well versed with the dirty politics of the country. Ever since you were a little girl, you would eavesdrop into the ministers’ conversations and manipulate the eunuchs to take a peak at written grievances sent to the king. You knew about the starving peasants he ignored and the bribes he received. As you grew older, you became hungry for power. When it became apparent that the king was blocking any hope for you, you were determined to take as many people down with you. You refused to suffer alone.

The king always berated you for being greedy. Greedy for education. Greedy for acknowledgement. Greedy for a life that was more than just being a good wife. He reminded you again and again that you would never have a voice in official affairs.

Every time you left his chamber after another lecture, you made sure to humiliate the embarrassment the kingdom called the crown prince. You would outshine him one way or another. Whether it be pointing out his grammar mistakes in front of the scholars or exposing his secret palace escapes to the queen, you would dampen his mood for the day. It was the only thing that gave you a speck of joy.

There was also only one thing that gave you something to look forward to. For years, you had been conspiring against the royal family. You despised the royal family and its classist, sexist, and pretentious values. You planned on getting rid of it once and for all. The kingdom deserved a leader that would rule benevolently. Slowly but surely, you gained the loyalty of several ministers. Soon enough, you would be able to execute the meticulous coup d'état.

But until then, you had to continue to be nothing but the king’s puppet. Which included meeting your fiancé. You were introduced a week ago and wedding preparations were already in full swing.

The man you would be forced to wed, Lee Juyeon, was the first son of the Chief State Councillor. You didn’t like him the moment you saw him. He was a pretty face that grew up with his father’s full love and support. He was both elegant and masculine; he was the definition of perfect and you hated it. A person had to have flaws to be likeable.

For some crazy reason you couldn’t wrap your mind around, Juyeon was infatuated with you. He visited the palace every day just to have you decline his request for a meeting. He was persistent.

Unfortunately for you, he was also crafty. He figured out that announcing his arrival to the king was an effective way to see your face. The king was delighted to see the Chief State Councillor’s son head over heels for his daughter and thus, to your annoyance, daily meetings were arranged for you two.

“Tell me, Lord Lee, what about me is worthy of your obsession?” you asked.

You were sitting at one of the gardens within the palace walls. He had insisted on the location because of its romantic beauty.

“Then tell me, Your Highness, what about me is not to your liking?” he grinned.

“Do you wish to hear the answer of the princess or the answer of Y/n?” you raised a brow, making him laugh.

“You amuse me, Princess Y/n,” he turned his head to look at the pond.

You sighed, wondering how long you had until you could return to your residence. The man next to you was oblivious to your feelings as he rambled on about the dates he wanted to take you on. He caught your attention when he mentioned sneaking you out of the palace for half a day.

“You would really risk taking me outside of the palace?” you perked up.

He was excited to see you finally engaged in the conversation and nodded profusely. He promised to set up an elaborate plan for a smooth date. Grudgingly, you accepted his offer. Your wish to see the village overwhelmed your wish to avoid your soon-to-be consort.

The next day, a court lady secretly found you to notify you of his plans. To evade the eyes of palace maids, you were to escape through a path not commonly used. She helped you scale the wall and you froze when you saw Juyeon on the other side. You sat on top of the wall and he extended his hand for support. With a tight smile, you held his hand and jumped down.

He pulled the veil over your face to keep your identity hidden, blushing when his hand slightly brushed your cheek. He hopped onto the horse and gestured for you to do the same. Hesitantly, you held his hand again to climb on.

Using the excuse of maintaining balance, he urged you to hold on tightly. You weren’t left with an option when he sped up, prompting you to instinctively hug his waist. You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling like a fool.

At last, you finally arrived at the village. Fascinated at the change in environment, you looked like a child surrounded by toys. Chuckling, Juyeon admired the view in front of him. In his eyes, you were prettier than any flower and sweeter than any candy. Feeling his gaze on you, you cleared your throat and began walking.

There was so much to look at. He caught you staring at the rows of yeot and purchased the confectionery without you asking. You immediately popped one into your mouth and he laughed when your cheeks expanded to resemble a squirrel.

“Are you teasing me?” you frowned.

“No, I am appreciating your adorable and lovely appearance,” he answered as he handed you the bag holding the rest of the yeot. His words didn’t fluster you. You simply rolled your eyes and resumed walking.

His long legs were quick to catch up with you. Enjoying your presence, he watched as you fawned over little trinkets. It was a new side of you that he had never seen.

Stopping at an accessory shop, you scanned the norigaes displayed on the table. One of them caught your eye and you held it up for a closer look. It was a beautiful pale pink color that perfectly matched your current hanbok.

“It seems a norigae is better at capturing your heart than I am,” Juyeon pouted.

“Perhaps it is prettier than you,” you shrugged.

“Is this an implication that I am pretty? To a certain extent?” he beamed.

“How do my words become that?” you exclaimed.

With another laugh, he took the accessory from your grasp and went to pay for it. You blinked at the sudden sight of his back, noticing for the first time how broad his shoulders were. When he came back to your side, he held the norigae in front of you but pulled it back when you reached out for it. He pointed at the bag of yeot and opened his mouth. Baffled, you turned around to walk away.

He caught your wrist and spun you back around. He bent down and your face stopped an inch away from his. His usual shy self was gone and he had a confident smirk on his lips.

“Does your heart not sway even at a close distance like this?” he asked. This time, he caught you off guard. When you finally came back to your senses, you hurriedly shoved a piece of yeot into his mouth and stormed off.

“Y/n, you make me laugh too hard and too much!” you heard his voice call out, making you blush crimson with embarrassment.

With your upcoming wedding looming over your head, it became increasingly difficult to communicate with the ministers. There were too many eyes to be wary of. Juyeon, of course, was one of them.

As you spent more time with him, you realized how sentimental he was. He brought you small, meaningful gifts and loved to tell you about the meanings behind each flower.

“Did you know that the plum blossom is one of the indications of spring's arrival?” he asked one day. “They can bloom as early as late March.”

“I think it is quite obvious that it is spring,” you commented, pointing at the variety of flowers surrounding you.

“My personal favorite flower is the rose of sharon,” he continued. “It is nicknamed the “immortal flower” and means “eternal blossom that never fades” because of its resilience. It regrows despite harsh conditions and even after it is damaged. Amazing, isn’t it?”

You hummed, looking for the flower he was talking about.

“I used to hope that our kingdom would take after the flower. We have survived through many tragedies and I hope that we will survive through anything else that tries to beat us down,” his words pricked you for some reason. Would your rebellion be seen as a tragedy or as a heroic deed?

“Now, I like to think that our love will be like the rose of sharon. My love for you will never fade and I will continue to pine after you despite your harsh words. Even if you hurt me, my feelings will transcend time,” he smiled. “The flower does not bloom until July. My wish is to go see them with you. Would you bless me with your presence when the time comes?”

You observed his lovestruck expression and couldn’t bring yourself to say no. Again, you were at a loss trying to understand why he was so besotted with you. His childlike innocence was almost pure to a fault in a place like the palace.

“I shall consider it if you teach me how to swing a sword,” you proposed.

He couldn’t hide both his shock and happiness. He was confused as to why you wanted to ever hold a weapon but glad that you were slowly opening up to him. Without a second thought, he agreed to your proposition.

Juyeon was full of bliss at the thought of spending more time with you. Teaching you swordsmanship would allow him to be intimate with you and he was thrilled. At your first secret lesson, his heart raced at your proximity as he guided your hands on how to properly wield the blade.

A week passed by and you quickly improved each day. Eventually, you became skilled enough to land a fake jab. Seeing your proud smile, he grinned as well.

“I guess I should be on edge now. If I annoy my princess one too many times, my life will literally be at your hands,” he joked.

“Do you regret training me?” you smirked.

“Ah, was this all a part of your plan?” he pretended to gasp. “Either to kill me off or to threaten me to obedience?”

Not finding his joke funny, you blankly stared at him. Noticing the sudden chill in the atmosphere, he awkwardly laughed.

“Do not worry, Your Highness. I will always do as you say. You do not need a sword to make me behave.” he smiled.

You hated to admit it but he had grown on you. His constant attempts to tear down your wall had finally made a crack. You had to stop before he became your weakness.

For the first time in a while, you were summoned to the king’s chamber. Expecting another reprimand, you dreaded the walk there. To your surprise, however, you were greeted with a smile he hadn’t given you in years. It kind of freaked you out.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” you bowed.

“I hear you have been getting along wonderfully with the Chief State Councillor’s son. Finally, you are fulfilling your duty as this kingdom’s princess,” he commended.

What a back-handed compliment. You wanted to roll your eyes at his passive aggressiveness. Holding back your urges, you politely smiled instead.

“I just wanted to let you know that I will be in a hurry to complete your wedding. I need the Chief State Councillor’s support to find a suitable wife for the crown prince,” he announced.

“Is my marriage merely a way for the crown prince to find a wife with a powerful family?” you shot back.

Your question turned the mood scarily sour. You felt his anger rise as he chastised you for your impudence and disrespect.

“The crown prince is the future leader of our kingdom. He is more than deserving of the immense care, thought, and effort that goes into picking his consort. His consort will be this kingdom’s queen and will be the one to bear the next king. You are nothing but a useless girl who will belong to a different family.”

“I am still a member of the royal family, am I not?”

“You are just a good-for-nothing girl that will leave this palace soon,” he spat. “Now leave. You are dismissed.”

On your way out, you ran into the crown prince who looked at you in a way you found to be offensive. You paused your steps and turned around.

“I wish you fertility, Crown Prince. After all, the kingdom relies on your performance to produce an heir to the throne,” you said, lacing your words with venom. “I would imagine you would hate having to adopt a nephew.”

You could tell you had gotten under his skin yet again and left satisfied. You loathed and condemned your family with a burning passion. You couldn’t wait for the day it would all come to a bitter end.

While you were brooding, you didn’t notice Juyeon sneaking up on you. When you finally saw him, you nearly jumped. Your hand reached out to cover your heart, trying to calm it down. Sheepishly, he apologized for startling you.

Trying to keep you from walking away from him, he held onto the hem of your sleeve. Your heart softened at the gentle manner he treated you with. Ignoring your instincts, you let him cling onto you. Instead of making you turn around to face him, he walked in front of you.

“Will you accompany me to the garden today as well?” he asked earnestly.

Knowing that the court ladies were watching, you reluctantly accepted his invitation once again. This time, he surprised you with a bag filled with yeot. He looked so proud of himself for remembering your love for the sweet treat that it made you laugh. As a reward, he grabbed a piece for himself. Unaware of the smudge it left on the corner of his lips, he was conscious of your gaze and tried to look attractive.

“Worry not, Your Highness. You will get to look at this face every day and every night once we marry,” he assured.

Despite his wise exterior, he had a goofy side to him. He was pure and innocent—everything you weren’t. You could see why the king favored him so much.

“I do not understand why you are so eager to become my consort,” you suddenly blurted. “You know that it is just a flashy title that does not award you with much privileges. It is an empty position; you cannot hold office without a special order from the king. Do you simply see yourself as a stepping stone for your father to bring honor to your family?”

“Is my love for you an acceptable response?” he asked after some thought.

“Is it truly worth your dangerous status as the princess’s husband and king’s son-in-law? The royal family has many enemies,” you warned.

“I will be the one to protect you from such enemies,” he declared.

Was he naive or has his affection for you blinded him?

“Princess Y/n,” he said solemnly as he held your hand. “I promise to love and protect you for as long as my heart beats. No, even after it ceases to beat, I will still yearn for you. I will not demand or expect you to do the same. Even if your feelings for me are not as strong as my feelings for you, I will not blame you. But will you please give me the chance to try to win you over?”

His confession triggered an alarm in your head. He was never supposed to fall for you this hard and you were never supposed to allow him to. He had no idea how cunning and conniving you really were. Only the people in the palace knew how cold-hearted you could be. You had to be in order to survive.

You refused to give him a reply and pulled your hand away. His face fell but he forced himself to smile again. In an attempt to break the tension, he made a random comment on the weather.

After you two parted, you decided to speed things up to initiate the revolt. Once you joined hands in marriage, Juyeon would inevitably end up a target as well. If you wanted to spare him, you needed to overthrow the corrupted royal family before he became a part of it.

It was officially the day before the insurrection. To be honest, you weren’t really nervous. This was what you had been anticipating your entire life.

Yet why did you have a moment of weakness when you saw Juyeon that afternoon? He approached you with that boyish smile that did wonders to your normally rational mind. Feeling what you believed was pity, you wanted to leave him with a pleasant memory.

So you ended up convincing him to sneak you out of the palace again. This time, you were a lot more enthusiastic. You wanted to try all the pastries and insisted that he taste them too.

“You seemed to have a lot on your mind these days,” he carefully pointed out. “Has the problem that has been bothering you been resolved now?”

“It will soon,” you eluded.

You stared at the man in front of you, observing his features. He was, without a doubt, good looking. You could see why all the court ladies, palace maids, and girls of the village were so smitten with him. But you still didn’t get why he chose you to fawn over. Maybe it was because of the lack of affection you grew up with but something about having someone care for you was unsettling.

You had suitors court you before but none of them were as devoted as Juyeon. He always came off as genuine. Perhaps his sincerity was what made you lower your guard.

“I promise to lavish you with such outings if that is what makes you happy,” he proclaimed, almost making you laugh.

“Why do you make so many vows?” you inquired.

“I am a man who keeps his word and you are the only one I give it to,” he grinned. You wondered how happy he had to be to smile so often. You rarely had reasons to be smiling.

He glanced down at the table and examined the rows of binyeos. Holding one up, he held the hair pin against your hair.

“May I gift you this binyeo?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, feeling just a tad bit of guilt. You were used to being showered with extravagance but with Juyeon, it was different. There was an emotional value attached to each present.

“Only if you promise me one other thing,” you negotiated.

“Of course. I will do anything you ask of me,” he responded.

“Promise me that you will not visit the palace tomorrow,” you said sternly. He looked at you with curiosity.

“Tomorrow is… a day of mourning for me. I do not wish to see you until the day after,” you lied.

“This is the first time you have expressed your desire to see me,” he lit up at your last sentence. “I will prepare a magnificent date for when I see you over-morrow.”

You almost felt sorry for his naiveté. And you almost—just almost—felt sorry for deceiving him.

The fateful day arrived at last. You stood, taking one last glimpse at your reflection. Subconsciously, your hand reached out to touch the binyeo in your hair.

The roars of the royal guards and the clanks of combat rumbled throughout the palace. With a determined look, you left your chamber. The sword in your clenched fist dragged across the ground as you made your way to the throne hall.

When you finally busted through the door, the king sat as if he had been waiting for you.

“I should have known that this was your doing,” he scowled. “Was your luxurious life as a princess not enough for you? Could you not fight the temptation of avarice?”

“Nothing about my life was ever comfortable,” you corrected. “I always had to play along to match your mood in order to avoid being married off to an old man just out of your spite. You tried to drill your toxic mentality in me because my individuality terrified you. You made it a point to constantly tear me down. So I made it a point to see your demise.”

“You have always been this sly ever since you were a little girl. I knew I would regret your birth the moment I saw your eyes. And I was right. You are nothing but a vile bitch.”

“For the longest time, I thought I was deserving of your hatred. But I came to the realization that you simply belittled me just for being a girl. Do not forget, Your Majesty, that the womb inside me is the same as the one that bore you the crown prince.”

Mockingly, you approached the throne. It was incredible how that one seat gave its owner immense power.

“Speaking of which, why is it that only men carry on the family name?” you questioned. “Do you not realize that women are the ones who carry on the precious bloodline you always speak of? It is the body of women that conceive and grow another human inside them. It is the body of women that suffer through labor to deliver you children and nurture them to good health. The only thing you do is spread your seeds like a fruit. And then blame women for your own infertility.”

“All throughout history, it has been men who carried on the royal bloodline. What makes you think that you are worthy of special treatment?”

“Bloodline, bloodline, bloodline,” you rolled your eyes in irritation. “Do not fool yourself. It is not blood you care about but name. Men may carry on the nameline but we are the ones who give you the royal blood pumping in your veins.”

You sloppily lifted the sword to the king’s neck, smirking.

“I knew you would be the one to bring my downfall,” he glared.

“Well, how does it feel to have all your fears come true, my king?” you taunted. “You were always afraid that I would either surpass you or ruin you. Now, I will be the one to end this damned bloodline. This good-for-nothing girl will take back the royal blood that was given to you by a woman.”

With that, you slashed his neck. Blood splattered across the wall and on your face. You grimaced, wiping away the warm liquid. You were surprisingly calm in front of such a gruesome sight. That was, until Juyeon came bursting through the door.

After he had parted from you the day before, he could not get you out of his mind. Something about your eyes had been melancholic. Your words sounded like a foreshadow and it left him feeling disturbed. So he broke his promise and went to the palace to see you again. He was alarmed to see the chaos ensuing and immediately searched for you. However, he never expected the situation he stumbled into.

“P-Princess Y/n,” he stuttered, making you aim the weapon at yourself. You never intended or wanted him to witness this.

“Do not come any closer,” you warned.

“Your Highness, please. Put the sword down,” he begged.

“I cannot,” you gulped. “This is how it must end.”

“We-we can run away. Together. We can leave everything behind and I will keep you safe,” he said as he tried his best to stay calm.

You wanted to both laugh and cry. Your life was a suicidal mission. You knew from the beginning that you would not be able to survive. If you failed, you would be executed for treason. If you succeeded, you would be executed to officially end the royal bloodline.

You had to admit, you slightly wavered at one point. Juyeon’s promise to make you happy was enticing. To someone who never strayed close to emotions before, he was like a miracle. He made you feel all sorts of things that you were glad to have experienced.

“I apologize, Lord Lee,” you sadly smiled before you stabbed the blade into your stomach.

“No!” he screamed as he ran to your side.

You slowly fell to the ground with Juyeon’s arms wrapped around your body. His hands shook above the wound as he cried, knowing that he couldn’t take it out without ensuring your death. He never thought that what he taught you would be used against yourself. If he had known that this was what you planned on using your skills for, he never would have taken your offer.

“I am afraid I will not be able to go see the rose of sharons with you,” you said as a tear escaped your eyes.

Your vision began to cloud and you felt the life in you leave with every breath you took. You didn’t even realize that your hand was gripping his clothes, crinkling it. Another tear rolled down your cheek as your head fell back, your neck unable to support it any longer.

He desperately clung onto you, holding your head in his bloodied hands.

“I will bring the flowers to you,” he affirmed.

“Another promise,” you chuckled.

“This one I will be sure to keep,” he stated as his own tears fell to your face.

Next to the weapon embedded in you was the norigae he bought you the first time you escaped the palace together. He looked up to see that you were wearing the binyeo he bought you as well. He sobbed, holding onto you tighter.

“I hope to be reborn as a rose of sharon. That way, I can come see you every spring,” you whispered before you closed your eyes for the last time.

tag list: @dearseungie​ @cuppasunu​ @reverienostalgia​ @elcie-chxn​ @parfaitz​​ @lovelyutas​ @mochinyu​ @leejaeyeons​

[theright-sideofme]

Mate. C. San. [Part 3. Final]

Werewolf!san x fem!reader WC: 2.4k Warnings: Fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, let me know if there's anything else

series masterlist | main masterlist Previous Part | Fin.

“We’re looking for Lord Y/l/n’s daughter, Lady Y/n. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

San could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he listened to the general speak. He spoke as if he already knew the answer, an unnerving smile resting on his lips as he stared down Hongjoong. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to all the worst scenarios if they found you. He wouldn’t let them take you… but he also couldn’t let his pack die.

While San was lost in his head Hongjoong had let the general in, all his men already split up and searching the house. The general never liked Hongjoong, or the rest of the pack for that matter, he often tried to pin crimes on them, which never worked. Hongjoong appeared to be unbothered, clueless even to whatever the general would say, which was irritating the older man greatly.

“It's clear here” one of the general's men whispered in the general's ear. Hongjoong let a small smirk take place on his lips and the general couldn’t take it. “Check again” was all he said, his eyes never leaving Hongjoong.

Meanwhile, you sat up in the attic too afraid to even breathe too loudly. While you didn’t want to go back home, you weren’t scared for yourself. You were scared for the boys. You had grown rather close with all of them and you would never forgive yourself if something happened to them because of you. After all, you couldn't let your mate and his pack die. Yes, you knew. San wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought. You just hoped you could get through this unscaved so you could finally sit down and talk to him about it.

“Hey San, what’s a mate?” San’s eyes bugged out of his head, looking at you as if you had grown two heads. “What?” “I overheard the other boys talking about meeting their mates? What’s a mate?” San let out a shaky sigh as he wracked his brain on how to tell you without giving away too much. He wasn’t ready to tell you yet, he wanted you to have time to adjust to life with them and not feel pressured into anything.

“Well-” he started, turning to face you a bit more, “- a mate is a very special person to a werewolf” “Special how?” San looked over at you and saw nothing but genuine curiosity and he could help but smile. He remembered when you first got here and thought that werewolves turned every full moon. You were so eager to learn everything about werewolves when you found out everything you knew was false. You were so willing to learn and shockingly accepting about it all. It left San wondering how he got so lucky as to have you as a mate.

“A mate is the person destined for a wolf. When wolves find their mate they get super protective-”

“Y/n get down from there!”

“-and sometimes even possessive.”

San watched with a scowl on his face as Mingi and you sat next to each other, giggling to yourselves. You could’ve swore you heard him growl.

“But all they want is their mate to be happy and safe.” You watched as San looked down at you with a soft and warm smile and a look in his eyes so full of love it was overwhelming. “Is a werewolf’s mate another wolf?” Please say no, you thought to yourself. “They can be, but a wolf's mates can be pretty much anyone, it’s all up to fate.” San watched as you let out a heavy breath, and for a second he thought he said too much, he was about to say something to cover it up but when he saw you smile up at him, all words died out in his throat.

“Thanks for explaining this to me” “no problem. I’m always here to answer your questions. Nodding, you stood up from the couch, placing a quick peck to his cheek before skipping out. You were San’s mate, you thought excitedly to yourself.

San on the other hand sat on the couch in shock. He lifted his hand to the cheek you had just kissed. A goofy smile took over his face as he felt an overwhelming giddiness take over. Seonghwa and Yunho walked in right as San let out a few giggles. The two looked at each other questioningly before turning to the younger boy. “What happened to you” “Y/n kissed my cheek!”

“Where does this lead?” San’s head snapped to the officer who was standing directly under the hatch to the attic. Yunho placed his hand on San’s back when he saw him tensing up, trying to wordlessly calm him down. They all knew how bad it would be for all of you if they found you here.

“Attic” Hongjoong stated simply, still seeming indifference but the boys could smell his worry slowly getting worse. “Open it” the general commanded his man. San could only hold his breath and pray you found a good hiding spot. God knows what he would do if they found you.

A few seconds after the man got up there, crashes could be heard from underneath as he threw things around to look for you. You held your breath and shut your eyes, praying that you would just become invisible. If they found you, it was over, there was nothing you or the boys could do. Your heartbeat started beating faster and faster as you heard the man getting close, so close that you swore he could hear your heartbeat too.

Just as you felt the box above you rumble, you thought that this was it and you were bombarded with a painful amount of guilt. If you hadn’t run away, the boys wouldn’t have to deal with their lives being in danger right now. Suddenly, the rumbling stopped, the silence being followed by an annoyed huff. “Nothing up here” the man called out and you heard his footsteps gradually get further away from you. You waited until you heard the hatch close until you let out your sigh of relief. “Hello my Lady” damn it! You knew it was too easy. As soon as the breath left your lips the box above you was lifted and you were met with the cold eyes of the general.

“Let go of me!” San immediately ran towards the attic when he heard you struggling, the boys quickly following behind. The sight San was met with had him seeing red. There you were, struggling in the general's arms as he held you tightly against him with a sick smile on his face. The more you struggled, the tighter his grip got, which just made it harder for you to escape. San couldn’t think straight at that moment, nearly shifting to tear the general to shreds, but Seonghwa, who was quick to sense San’s anger, quickly pulled him back. Seonghwa stood in front of San’s line of sight, making sure he couldn’t see you or the general. “Let me go” San growled lowly, not being able to control his anger much more. Seonghwa didn’t budge.

You were still struggling against the general and the pack watch, conflicted as to what they could do without hurting you. Watching on with sympathetic looks as their internal conflict tore them apart. When you saw them your eyes widened and you stopped struggling. “What are you doing, get out of here!” you yelled at them, knowing that once they had you secured, they would be quick to arrest them and set the earliest date to have them executed.

None of them budged.

“They’ll kill you! Go!” You couldn’t stop the tears that started well up in your eyes as you continued to tell them to go. San heard your cries and it just made him angrier, his eyes flashing a bright red before he shifted. San quickly ran past Seonghwa, who was now knocked over by the younger's strength, and straight to the general.

“Shoot it!” The general yelled as he pulled you in front of him to insure San didn’t attack him. The men didn’t get a chance to draw the weapons before they were surrounded by a pack of growling wolves. With 9 of the general and his men and 8 wolves, the attic was suddenly much smaller, leaving little room for the men to go. “What are you waiting for? Shoot!” The general commanded. “No!” Your scream fell on deaf ears, because the first shot was fired and suddenly it was madness. A flash of fur, a scream of a fallen man, more and more gunshots being fired, and spurts of blood flying. In your state of shock, the general was quick to take you by your wrist, getting ready to run to get you out and tell your father about the rabid wolves that live in the forest but he didn’t get to move a foot before San was right in front of him. “Damn wolves!” The general upholstered his gun and before you knew what was happening, you rushed forward, pushing the gun out of his hand and onto the floor. Out of anger, he threw you to the floor with it. “You stupid-”

San couldn’t take it anymore, and now that you were out of the way, he pounced. Tackling the general to the ground, snapping in his face. He couldn’t contain himself, seconds away from tearing this man to shred before he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his side. His second of faltering allowed the general to push him off. With his second dagger in hand, he strode over to San with a murderous glint in his eye.

Everything was happening in slow motion, Yunho and Mingi tearing guards to shreds right next to you, the screams of men and the whimpering of an injured wolves. Most importantly, the way the general charged towards San. You didn’t have time to think about any of it, your brain acting on autopilot as you picked up the gun, precisely aiming it at the general.

The silence that followed the shot was eerie. The only sounds that could be heard were the panting of the survivors, none of them guards. Not having time to think about what you just did, you rushed over to San. “Oh my god” you breathed out as you saw all the blood that stained his fur.

San was fine though, physically he was in pain, but he would heal. Mentally, he was just so relieved to have you safe. Disregarding the pain he felt in his rib cage, he sat himself up, nuzzling his face against yours, earning a relieved giggle from you once you saw he was okay.

--

Once everyone was all cleaned up and had their wounds attended to, you and San sat outside for a long overdue talk. Hongjoong still needed to talk to everyone about what they were going to do now, where they were going to go and how they were likely going to be on the run for awhile, but he decided you two needed to talk first.

“You’re sure you’re okay” you asked for what felt like the hundredth time. San found it cute how concerned you were, how you wouldn’t leave his side the entire time Yunho was cleaning him up, and how you weren’t leaving his side now. “Yes, I’m fine, I promise.”

It was silent after that, neither of you knowing how to continue. This was not how San wanted to tell you, he wanted to wait until you were fully settled and happy, until you felt like you could trust him fully. What he didn’t know is that you already trusted him. You trusted him the moment you saw him the first day by your house. As for being settled and happy, you were the most content here with the pack, with him, than you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Looking up at him, you realized this was going to take awhile if you were both waiting for the other to say something. So instead, you cupped his face, making him turn to look at you before planting your lips on his. You pulled away almost as quickly as you had kissed him, feeling a sudden shock when your lip had met his. Looking at him with a wide eye, his face mirrored your, wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. “Do that again” was all he said, and so you did, once, twice, three times before you deepened the kiss. You could feel San’s chest rumble as you pull him closer, feeling as if you could never get enough of him. San was ecstatic and intoxicated all at once, the feeling of your lips on his sending all of his senses into overdrive.

“You’re my mate” he finally said once you had pulled away, not wanting to wait any longer to tell you. You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your lips, “I know, you’re not as slick as you think Choi.” With a wink and the bite of your lips, you stood up, ready to go inside and talk to the rest of the pack about what was to come next. San shook off his shock, standing up and chasing after you. His hand latched around your wrist, swiftly turning you around and pulling you into his chest. “You knew?” He asked, an amused look on his face. You nodded in response, a smile adorning your face, leaving San to mentally swoon at how cute you looked before pulling you into a hug, just holding you there tightly. He basked in the feeling of finally being able to hold you how he’s been wanting to since he first laid eyes on you. “Thank you, for staying” shocked by his words, you pulled away with a confused look. “Why would I leave?” You questioned, genuinely confused as to why you would ever leave him. “Because-” “You know what, I don’t want to know your stupid answer” you teased, grabbing his hands as you looked into his eyes to make sure he was understanding you. “I will never leave you.” five words that held so much more meaning than what they should. A silent I love you until you were ready to mutter the three words for real. San understood that and he could only pull you back into his arms, placing a kiss on top of your head. Leaving you two to stand in comfortable silence as you held each other tightly. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next, but you were just happy that you now had San by your side.

--

taglist: @itsyaapollochild @sunsethw4 @raysanshine @apricottulips

[swordofpevensie]

We Will See (Prince Caspian x You Fic.)

requested: by @lovecatystuff​ Hi! Could you write something with Caspian and arranged marriage, when both of them didn't want it at the beginning but later he see how caring and lovely she is, please? Thank you in advance! 💜💜💜

warnings: angst, arranged marriage, the reader (you) has a terrible father, mentions of violence, implying of rape, almost violence, we defeat sexist idiots here, miraz is a jerk, slowburn. 

word count: 5005

a/n: i sincelery hope you like it caty because you are so cute and deserve to be happy. i’m so excited to share it with you! (｡♡‿♡｡)

my masterlist is not here because you know, i broke it. 

                                                      .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧

The first time you saw Caspian, you were sure that you hated him. First of all, he was so spoiled, because he was the prince of a strong empire. He was also conceited. He didn't even greet you. And you could tell he was doing his best not to look at you.

While your father and Miraz were discussing how this marriage would be and its benefits, you and Caspian just sit there. No one asked you what you thought, if you wanted to get married, if you liked each other. You felt like a worthless and pathetic animal waiting to be sold to its new owner. You wanted to cry and escape from that room, that castle and get lost. You wanted to be alone for the rest of your life because you were sick of your greedy father and sacrificing yourself for his benefits.

“My Lord,” You heard your father speaking. “I'm sure this marriage will make both of us stronger than we already are.”

Miraz nodded; there was an evil smile on his face.

“You know she will stay here,” He spoke. “Is she good and obedient? I don't want a bride who is a rebel in my castle.”

Your father had a little flashback about you. You fighting with a sword, showing up in the castle covered in mud, the time you bit a man's hand because he was trying to stop you from fighting, you yelling at your father because he didn't allow you to go outside, the time you fell into a hole with your horse while you were training.

“She is absolutely obedient, my Lord.” Your father said. You tried so hard not to smile. “She will not cause you any problems.”

Miraz looked at you; there was something in his eyes that made you so uncomfortable. But you didn't look away, answered his eyes and stared at him until he felt annoyed and turned his head.

“Then, let the preparations begin!” Miraz shouted.

Your father signified you to come with his hand. When you stood up to go, Caspian did the same.

“May I talk with you before you leave, Princess Y/N?”

You didn't ask your father for permission on purpose. He beat you and forced to you to get married no matter how hard you tried to fight back and stop him. Now, you were determined to turn his life into a ceaseless torture.

“Yes, of course.” You replied him. Honestly, you were surprised that he condescended to talk to you.

“I think it will be better if we can talk alone. Would it be okay for you to go out?”

“I'd like to go outside.”

Your father grunted angrily and intended to stop you but Miraz stopped him.

“We should let young lovers talk.”

When you were finally outside, Caspian stopped in the middle of the garden.

“Thank you for accepting my offer, Princess Y/N.” Caspian started to speak. “I know you do not want to get married with me. I totally understand that, we've just met and maybe you have someone else in your heart, or maybe you just do not like marriage.” He cleared his throat. “What I'm saying is although we both do not want this marriage; I think we should try to enjoy it. I do not expect you to love me and I can't love you suddenly but if we try to be friends, things may be easier and bearable. What do you think?”

You didn't like him, that was a fact, but his words offended you somehow. Especially when he said bearable, you felt very offended. Were you ugly or not enough for him? Were you a person who was annoying and unbearable? You didn't do anything wrong in the short time he saw you. Why did he use such words then?

“Yes, Prince Caspian, I do not want to get married to someone like you and I will do whatever it takes to stop this marriage.”

He seemed angry. “You cannot stop it now. They've already decided. We are getting married, no matter we like it or not.”

“I can stop it!” You raised your voice. “And I will!”

He rolled his eyes. “Could you stop your father when he first informed you about the marriage?”

Your answer was silence.

“That's what I thought.” He took a short breath. “I know you are angry and sad. I feel the same things. You are not the only one who is forced to marry. If we can respect each other and become friends, we can at least have a good time despite their evil intentions.”

“No,” Your voice shook. “I will stop my father. I will try harder.” When you felt your tears coming, you turned around and left Caspian there.

Caspian was sure that he hated you. Although it was the first time he saw you, he thought you were unbearable and about to turn his life into a nightmare.

                                                  .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧

 It had been a month since you and your father left Miraz's castle. During this time, you kept fighting with your father and objecting this marriage but he was determined and strong.

He punished you, made you stay in the dungeons for a week, locked you in your room and let you out only when tailors came to prepare your wedding dress.

You felt nothing but unhappiness. Sometimes you weren't even there, people talked to you but you didn't hear. You were unhappy, sad and broken because you felt like nothing, no one. You opinions weren't important, your voice wasn't heard. You didn't want this marriage because your mother and father's marriage was also arranged and your mother suffered because of your father for her whole life. You were scared to have the same fate.

However, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop your father and your wedding day came. You, your father and the maids travelled to Miraz's castle the night before the wedding.

The maids helped you get dressed, they did your hair, put some scent on your body, and you were ready to go.

Your father was with you during the ceremony. He escorted you until you arrived to the dais and Caspian held your hand.

Your dress was dark red; you noticed Caspian's cape was the same colour. He wore black trousers and boots, his shirt was also black.

You made your marriage vows but both of you kept it short and simple.

Caspian had managed to convince his uncle not to have a ball after the wedding. Miraz accepted because he didn't care about your wedding at all and he didn't want to deal with people.

When you were informed that there wouldn't be a ball last night, you were glad. You didn't want to want to dance with him and pretend to like him.

Therefore, after ceremony ended, Caspian and you went to your room. The place you would stay for the rest of your life. You hated every step you took and every single minute you walked. Caspian was holding your hand until you arrived to the room. It was a matter of form.

He opened the door and waited for you to go inside.

You were scared. What if he wanted to make... It? Would he hurt you if you said no? You had no weapon with you because your father made sure you didn't take any. You could fight with him with bare hands but what if he had a weapon? Your heart was beating so fast and your legs felt numb. You entered the room and just stood. You didn't know what to do.

But when you turned and looked at him as he closed the door, you realized he seemed nervous.

“So...” He said in a low voice. “We have to be here tonight, to make others believe in our marriage. Will you just sit and pout or would you like to talk with me? My books are there,” He pointed the right side of the room with his finger. “I mean if you like reading history.”

He was not going to hurt you. You took a short breath in relief. You felt all your muscles relaxing and that numb feeling leaving your body.

“I love history.” You replied him. You tried to sound friendly. He was right, you had to stay in the room until morning and maybe spending time with him wouldn't be so bad?

He took a step towards you, meanwhile you stepped back reflexively. He frowned.

“I know we do not know each other yet. The first thing I need you to know about me is I will never hurt you. I am not a violent person; you don't need to fear me.”

You just nodded.

“Is there anything you need me to know?”

“You should fear me.” You said and he laughed.

“Why?”

“I am an excellent fighter.” You were really proud of yourself. “There is no man I can't beat in a sword fight.”

“Oh, okay, Princess Y/N is fierce.” He had a smile on his face which made him look very friendly and warm. “Would you like to fight with me at dawn?”

“Of course.”

He extended his hand. You took and shook it. You looked at each other for a few minutes, without breaking the handshake.

“History,” You said when you realized you'd been holding his hand. “Books. Could you please show me your books?”

“Please,” He pulled the chair behind the desk for you. “Be my guest, Princess Y/N.”

You smiled as you sit.

“What do you like to read?”

“I read anything I find.” You replied. “But my favorite subjest is Narnia tales.”

He seemed suprised. “Do you know about them?”

“Of course I do. My mother used to tell me their stories. Kings and Queens of old, I am very fond of them.”

“Talking about Narnia is forbidden here.” Caspian said. “My uncle doesn't like Narnians.”

“So how do you know?”

“I have a professor. He teaches me. Wait a second.”

He turned his back to you and started to search something in his bookshelves. One wall of the room was used as a bookcase. He took a book from the back of the shelf. He brought the book and put it to the desk.

“May I sit?”

“Yes, yes please.” You moved a little when he sat to the chair next to yours.

He opened a page. “Here is one of their pictures.” He explained. His voice was confident and excited. You could tell how interested he was in Narnia. “This is High King Peter, this is King Edmund, this is Queen Susan and this is Queen Lucy.”

You nodded as you looked at the picture. “It is very beautiful.” You'd never seen their pictures before. “Do you know Mr. Tumnus?”

“No, I have never heard this name before.”

“Oh, he was an satyr and Queen Lucy's friend. They say when she first came to Narnia, Mr. Tumnus saw her and welcomed her in.”

“Who else do you know?”

And you talked about Narnia, Kings and Queens, fairytales, your favorite stories and heroes, what might have happened to Narnians. You chatted about yourselves too. Your childhood, your training stories, what you liked to do, what your favourite food was.

He wasn’t that bad, actually, he wasn’t bad at all. Communicating with him was easy, he was friendly and talkative. He smiled frequently and was always careful, never got closer to you before asking.

You thought maybe he was right after all. You were married now and neither he nor you could rise against your father or Miraz. Maybe things would be better if you started trying to be friends with him.

That's why you were nice to him whole night. You let him see the true you, the funny, nice, kind and lively you. And he liked that side of you. He hoped you'd never stop being like that because he hated to see you upset and broken. The day when you talked in the garden was a nightmare for him. You seemed so unhappy, so tired and upset and he felt the same things. The look inside your eyes broke his heart, which was already damaged.

Because when his uncle told him he'd get married, Caspian was so scared. He was too young to be married. He had dreams, wishes, and plans in his head. He was going to be a seafarer and search for Narnians. But this marriage would mean to stay inside of the kingdom and with his future wife. He hated that thought. However he still hoped his chosen wife would be someone easygoing so that even though he wouldn't love her, he could still have good time with her and try to make her happy.

That hope was destroyed by you when he tried to talk with you. He was disappointed and sure that his life would be a disaster from now on. He thought you'd make his life a torture for him.

Spending time with you, however, changed his thoughts. He realized you were nice and easygoing when you wanted to be. You were funny and very wise. Every story you told him and each new information you gave him about Narnians amazed him and he felt so glad that you knew and liked Narnia. He loved the way you told stories, with a big excitement and admiration, because he felt the same things when he talked about Narnian stories. Sharing his feelings with you made him feel so good.

You fell asleep after a while. The whole day was overwhelming and you were really tired, therefore you couldn't stop yourself.

Meanwhile Caspian was trying to find a book about astrology. When he finally found the book, he turned his face to the desk and saw you sleeping. Your arms were on the desk and you put your head on your arms. He couldn't help but smile. But then he realized he couldn't let you sleep on the desk. He put the book randomly to a shelf and approached to you silently.

“Y/N,” He told your name in a calm voice. “Princess Y/N, you should wake up.”

He tried to wake you up a few more times but you were in a deep sleep.

“Okay.” He muttered and sat next to you.

He couldn't sleep though. He sat there with you until you woke up at dawn. He read some books, thought about his day, and sometimes watched you.

He honestly felt happy because you two managed to be friends.

                                                .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧

 After three weeks had passed since the day you and Caspian got married, your public duties started. The first one was to visit the market place and observe the economic situation of the people and listen to their problems. You were really excited because you liked to talk with people and also you wanted to feel useful. Sitting inside the castle all day and spending most of your time with Caspian were getting boring.

Honestly, spending time with him was actually good. Waking up at dawn and fighting until you both were tired became your tradition. Caspian taught you how to use arrow and bow; in return, you taught him how to fight with a dagger. After fighting, you came to your room and took bath respectively. If there was any meeting, you and he participated together because Miraz demanded you to make this marriage seem believable, therefore outside of your room, you were always together. You had to hold hands sometimes but besides that, it was alright. When you spent time together in your room, you read, studied with Proffesor, just chatted together; you drew and he watched you, you watched him as he played the piano. At night, you slept in the same bed but you kept the distance.

However, all of those activities made you feel selfish because you were now the princess of Telmarines and your duty was to serve them and meet their needs.

When you finally arrived to the marketplace, you walked arm in arm. He was very thoughtful; he helped you with your dress, pulling it gently so that you didn’t step on it. He held your hand while you were getting out of your carriage.

You couldn’t tell if he was excited or not until he started talking with people. You saw that people loved him and he was very fond of them. He knew their names and he was so kind. He was very good at talking with children and he was so soft and cute with babies. He introduced you as his wife many times, which made you feel weird but somehow good.

He watched you as you talked with people. He was surprised because you were very nice to everyone. You were polite and your manners clearly showed that you cared about all of the people. Several women gave you flowers or something they cooked or baked. His eyes were on you as you ate food you were given and thanked and praised each woman. He’d seen princesses who didn’t even accept food from people. A boy wanted to give you a flower crown and you crouched down for him to put the crown on your head. Caspian found himself smiling while watching you. He realized you weren’t a person like he’d assumed. He let his prejudice form an opinion about you, which was something he shouldn’t have done. He judged you with your one and only mistake and realizing that made him feel very angry at himself.

He took a deep breath to get rid of his thoughts. He firstly needed to do his duty. Later, he could apologize to you.

You spent almost four hours in the market place, however neither of you realized how much time had passed when your driver and one of your guards (you insisted that you didn’t want them but you couldn’t stop Miraz) informed you about the time and told you it was time to leave.

Caspian and you discussed everything people told you, their problems, how to solve them, how to help people. The problem was actually very clear: They were sick of paying taxes as they knew their money was only spent for the armies of the lords who did nothing to help them.

As soon as you arrived to the castle, you went to Miraz’s room to discuss it with him. He was a strong lord and if you could get his support, others would probably listen to you.

Caspian was with you when you entered the room. He was right behind you but he was silent. He wanted you to be the one to solve this problem and win the hearts and minds of people.

However when you explain the situation to Miraz, he said ‘’No.’’ without hesitation. You were shocked because you really thought he would want to help you.

You frowned. ‘’How can you say no? They are our people, we must help them.’’

‘’Their taxes protect them.’’ Miraz looked very determined.

‘’There is no war at this moment. I think we can abate the taxes.’’

‘’Princess,’’ Miraz said in a insulting manner. ‘’You shouldn’t puzzle your brains with such problems. Go and do ordinary princess things. Comb your hair, sing, kiss your husband or whatever. This is not your business.’’

He made you angry, more than you can describe in words. You wished you could punch him but you managed to be calm somehow.

‘’My ordinary princess things are my actual responsibilities towards our people. And it is not your decision to make. It concerns all of the lords, therefore we will take it to the council.’’

‘’You will not.’’

You looked at his angry eyes with determination and stubbornness. ‘’You cannot patronize me. I have every right to discuss it with the council. Who do you think you are? The king?’’

He raised his hand against you however Caspian captured it before you or Miraz could do anything.

‘’Don’t even think about it, uncle.’’ He said in a low voice, gritting his teeth.

It was the first time you saw him angry and you could honestly say that he looked dangerous.

‘’She is right.’’ Caspian continued. ‘’We will take this to the council and you are not the king, you cannot stop me or her. The council will decide what to do.’’

He let go of Miraz’s hand but his face didn’t change.  ‘’You wanted to bring her to this castle and make her our princess. You have to respect everything she says and does because like it or not, she is our princess and I think what she is doing is amazing and very right.’’  

After hearing Caspian’s talking in that tone and manner, you understood why he was a prince and the next king. At that moment, he was not just a young and inexperienced prince, he was a strong king and he knew how to rule a kingdom, in that case, people. He was made to be king and realizing this made you feel proud of him. You also appreciated him and how he stood up for you.

‘’Come.’’ He said to you and together, you left the room. Caspian directly went to the council room and demanded a meeting.  

You explained the situation and needs of the people. Caspian supported you and made sure that everyone knew that you weren’t alone. Some of the lords didn’t want to abate the taxes while some of them supported you.

It was debated in the council for two days, you and Caspian never gave up the cause. At the end of the second day, lords announced that they agreed to abate the taxes and spend their economic sources to help and support the people. General Glozelle supported you extremely. You thought he supported you just to annoy Miraz but you were still thankful.

You and he were in your room after everything was over. You felt really tired after talking, discussing and arguing for two days but the satisfaction of beating Miraz was worth it.

‘’Princess Y/N,’’ Caspian said. ‘’I really appreciate what you achieved. My uncle doesn’t even let his wife to be a council member but you defeated him very elegantly and successfully.’’

You smiled at his compliments. ‘’Thank you,’’ You said. ‘’But I think I would lose without your help. Thank you for standing up for me and your support.’’

‘’With such a determination like yours, I think you would beat my uncle and council without me.’’

You smiled proudly. ‘’Thanks. My father says I got it from my mother.’’

‘’May I?’’ He asked as he stood up close to the bed.

‘’Yes, please.’’ You made room for him. ‘’And you don’t have ask every time. Also you can call me just Y/N. You don’t need to add princess.’’

‘’Oh, so, are you starting to like me, Y/N?’’ He asked jokingly.

‘’I thought we became friends.’’ You looked at him. ‘’Didn’t we?’’

‘’Yes, yes we did. We are friends.’’ His voice was low and he wasn’t looking at you.

‘’Is there any problem?’’ You felt worried. Had you done something wrong?

‘’No, just...’’ He breathed out as he rubbed his nasal bridge. ‘’Yes, there is a problem and you’ll hate me when I tell you.’’

‘’I won’t hate you.’’ You got closer to him. ‘’I know I was really rude to you at first but believe me, it changed. Please tell me. I’m sure we can solve the problem together.’’

‘’I tried really hard not to do this but I couldn’t stop myself. How could I? You know about Narnians, you love history as much as I do, you are an amazing fighter, you are brilliant, lovely, caring and very stubborn.’’

You were confused. Yes, you were flattered but what did his words mean?

‘’Caspian-‘’

‘’I like you. Not as a friend. As a... When I introduce you as my wife to people, I feel good.’’

You couldn’t say anything. The only thing you did was to give a short and shaky breath. You were totally shocked because you never thought he’d like you. You had been mean to him and you were distant. Honestly, you thought he hated you or didn’t like you. You assumed he was just trying to be nice and was putting up with you. But his words vanished all of your prejudices because he sounded very sincere and serious. The way he complemented you and the last thing he said... You felt good, that was for sure, but you didn’t know how you felt about him. Did you like him? You’d never considered this, maybe because you were determined not to like him or maybe because you were sure he wouldn’t like you.

‘’Caspian, I really don’t know what to say. But I don’t hate you, I never did and I never will. You’ve been so good to me, more than I deserve. You are so nice, kind, thoughtful and caring. I am really thankful to you. However I am not sure about my feelings. I never thought we would like each other.’’

He nodded silently. ‘’It’s alright.’’ He said. ‘’I don’t and can’t expect you to like me suddenly.’’

‘’It’s not because you are an unlikable person.’’ He looked at you as you continued. ‘’It’s because I was sure that you would never like me.’’

‘’So... What will happen now?’’

You smiled at him. It was a warm and sincere smile. ‘’We will see.’’

                                                    .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧

‘’I’m beginning to think you are doing magic.’’ Caspian said while he was looking at the second arrow you shot which pierced the little red circle on the target board.

You laughed. ‘’I wish I could but, no, it is the result of practicing too much.’’

He took the arrows from the board and brought them to you.

‘’You’ve improved so much. I feel very unneeded while I’m standing here.’’

‘’I think you should be proud. You are my teacher after all.’’

‘’You are a brilliant student.’’ He said, smiling. ‘’However, I think if put your leg like this,’’ He put his right leg a bit further than where yours were. ‘’It will be better.’’

You did as he told. ‘’Is it okay?’’

‘’Yes, and you should raise your arm higher.’’

You did that too.

‘’Just a little- Can I show you?’’

‘’Yes of course.’’

‘’Okay, now,’’ He took a step towards your back. ‘’Your elbow should be like this,’’ He spoke while he put his hand to your elbow and pushed it up softly. ‘’And it would be better if your arm,’’ His hand were on your arm now, his touch was so gentle. You felt that his fingertips were burning part of your skin which wasn’t covered with arm-guard.

You tried to ignore his touch and focus on what he was telling but you failed. You felt like a candle slowly melting because of the fire. You woke up to the fact that you wanted to melt. For him.

‘’Y/N,’’ You finally heard his voice. ‘’Are you alright?’’

‘’Yes, I am.’’ You took a short breath and lowered your hands and bow. ‘’I’m sorry, I just...’’ You turned your head back and looked at his face. ‘’Can I ask you something?’’

‘’You can.’’

He looked very worried and you loved it. He was very caring during all this time you spent together. He was also so thoughtful. Whenever you frowned a little, he immediately asked if you were okay. He always made sure that there was water on your night table. He always helped you when your dress caused you problems.

‘’Do you still like me, Caspian?’’ You asked very nervously.

He licked his lips before talking. ‘’Yes, I do. More and more day by day, actually.’’

You smiled when you heard his answer. ‘’Then, I have some news for you.’’

He raised his eyebrows, there was a little smile on his face. ‘’I am listening very carefully.’’

‘’Prince Caspian,’’ You said and took a deep breath. ‘’I think I like you.’’

His smile got bigger and bigger and you heard him laughing. ‘’Really?’’

You nodded. You were smiling too. Saying your feelings out and loud made you feel very relaxed, as if a heavy burden was taken off your chest.

‘’How?’’ He asked.

‘’Am I supposed to give you an alphabetic list?’’ You shrugged your shoulders. ‘’It just happened but I think it was inevitable.’’

His dark brown eyes were shining. ‘’It feels like I am in a dream.’’

‘’Does it mean you dream about me?’’ You asked jokingly.

You realized he was taking you into your arms. You let him because you needed to be in his arms, feel his touch and body heat.

‘’Sometimes.’’ He said. ‘’Don’t you?’’

‘’Sometimes.’’ You copied him. It made him laugh.

‘’Can I kiss you right now, Princess Y/N?’’

‘’Yes, yes you can, Prince Caspian.’’

You dropped the bow when his lips touched yours. All of your muscles relaxed, you felt like you would fall to the ground but thankfully his hands were on your waist, holding you tight.

His lips were soft, his kiss was passionate. You could almost taste his desire and you absolutely loved it. Being loved and wanted by him felt like you were over the moon.

He was the one to break the kiss and look at your face very carefully. He liked it when he saw your red lips.

He was looking at you carefully, as if he was trying to understand whether you were real or not. You noticed that he really couldn’t believe you liked him.

‘’I like you.’’ You needed to say it again so that he could believe.

He took your hands into his and brought them closer to his lips, then kissed your hands. You bit your lower lip, it was your soft spot.

‘’I like you too, so much.’’ He managed to say before you grabbed his face and kissed him.

[dilucbabe]

filthy

pairing: overhaul x fem!reader rating: m themes: priest kink, dubcon/noncon, emotional manipulation, spit kink, explicit sexual content, degradation, misogyny word count: 1.75k ao3 - request

His gloved fingers glide over your own, a smile adorning his lips. Funny, how such a simple gesture can mean so much to someone like Kai. It’s obviously no secret how uncomfortable he is with people showing their entitlement in thinking they’re allowed to come near his vicinity - to rub their filthy hands over him as if he merely stood on display. But it wasn’t just about the audacity that they showed with their thoughtless actions, far more, it was about the control that they took from him.

Kai is a man of action, a man of God. Someone who shows action and takes fate into his own hand, pulling it if needed. Not someone who lets things happen to him. He isn’t weak like that and he’d rather die than become so pathetic. His mission in life is to shield the weak ones from temptation and sin, to guide them to the right path, even if it means becoming forceful. Some might call him cruel, but truth be told, the perception of others is as important as the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. The only thing that truly matters that he obeyed the Allmighty, the church.

“Father?”, your voice is laced with sleep, eyes not yet open and Kai feels his heart stir at the sight alone. “Hmm, did something happen?” The innocence in the statement alone feels like pure gasoline to the flame that is his desire for you. Funny, how such a simple gesture can drive a man like Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness.

You’d come to the monastery on a rainy night, wet hair clinging to your frightened little face as you begged with utmost sincerity, “Please, father. I have nowhere to go. I- I need your guidance.”

You had practically breathed your plea, hands desperately clawing at your coat, the wet fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. If he were a different man, he would have felt his demeanour melt away, but he had remained strong. “Guidance, child?”

You cast your gaze away from him, shame bringing a pretty glow to your cheeks. “I’m a horrible woman. I-“, your bottom lip quivered, looking up at you with such over the top sorrow, it almost seemed comical. Almost. “I have seduced men without meaning to. I really didn’t, you have to believe me! Satan himself must reside within me!”

“First and foremost”, he had remained firm in his stance, albeit a bit more tense, though he couldn’t quite tell why. “There is nothing I have to do, aside from serving our Lord in Heaven. Not aid you, nor believe you.”

A high pitched squeal slipped past your chapped lips, clasping your hand over your mouth as though you had spoken out of turn. “I- Please-!”

“Still, you are in luck that God wouldn’t let me permit to turn my back on a poor sinner, so accepting of their own sins.”

It was, for the lack of a better word for it, thrilling to hear you beg like that, he remembers. It still is. Desperation and fear for condemnation – for punishment – has always been a big motivator for Kai. Instilling fear of what is good and righteous had always seemed like his one true calling, planting a seed of shame and guilt within people’s minds, to infest it and exorcise all evil from their very souls. A most gratifying experience he thanks the Lord every night in prayer.

Yet when it comes to you, he feels something stir inside of him. Maybe it is something akin to excitement, maybe it was hunger, maybe mere curiosity. Whatever it may be, he knows that it can only mean evil. What else could it be? You yourself have admitted upon being corrupted by the Devil, so he is but a man standing in the face of corruption.

Kai feels his pulse quicken, your legs spread open as though you are simply begging for him to be defiled by you. And who knows? Maybe you are. It wouldn’t be the first time, he’d caught your eyes taking his form with heaving bosom and wide eyes. Revolting slut that you are.

“Father?” He can see you trembling and he can feel himself swell with something akin to pride.

A cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands now on your thighs, holding them in place. Even through his gloves, he can tell how warm you are to the touch – a temptation, if there ever was one. Though you might look the innocent maiden, he can see for what you truly are and maybe his purpose was to punish you for it, to set you right. Indeed, filling your hole with his seed might even cleanse you from all the filth of your very core.

God is on his side, he’s certain of it. He’d forgive his obedient servant’s sin if it meant saving a soul from the eternal flames of Satan. There simply is no other way.

Your eyes widen, any trace of exhaustion wiped clean from your face. “Please, no… I don’t want to-“

“Hush”, his fingers dig deep into your flesh, the promise of bruises blooming on your skin, making his cock stir. “You know that lying is a sin, don’t you? Let alone to a man of faith.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks at any moment, hands desperately clawing at the covers Kai’s sitting on, trying to cover yourself, to no avail. “P- Please…”

“I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” He’s wedging himself between your legs now, knees pressing them apart, while his hands easily get a hold of your wrists, holding them in place. How come your words express such dread, when your body is so easy – so willing – to get overpowered by him? Even if you don’t quite realize it yourself, your mind is clouded with lies and sin. “Let’s try this again”, he pauses. “You’re aware that lying to a man of faith in considered a sin, yes?”

A slow nod. “Yes, father.”

“And although you should know better, you still actively choose to disobey the word from our Lord, yes?”

“It’s not a lie!” Even though your whole body is violently trembling with pitiful sobs, Kai can’t quite help it, but be in awe of your form. You make such a perfect victim, he’s sure, any artist would compare you to the likes of Mary and Joan d’Arc – suffering for the greater good. Although, of course, he knows you better than to fall prey to your manipulation.

Pressing your balled up fists against his cock, he snarls in pure disdain, “Don’t play coy with me. Do you think I’m blind to your lust? Do you think yourself a victim to the attention of men you so desperately seek out?”

You flinch upon contact, though Kai notes, how you momentarily halt your wails, a faint squeal escaping you. He wonders, is that still part of the act that you’re trying to keep up or if you’re rightfully in stunned at the size of him. He grows harder just thinking about burying himself to the hilt inside your vile cunt. “N- no! Father, I never meant to- to-“

“For me to notice?”, he snaps and by the shock written all across your features he knows that he’s right. “You perverted whore.”

“It was never my intention to seduce you! I’m not lying! I swear, the Lord is my witness, I-“

Thwack. The sting on your cheek is relentless, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to learn how to behave, that there are consequences to your misdeeds, even if he has to beat it into you. “How dare you use the Lord’s name to spout all this nonsense”, it’s no question, but a statement. “I have no patience for whores with silver tongues.”

Kai leans over you, holding your wrists over your head, relishing in the sight of you being completely at his mercy. Your meek hiccups did nothing but spur him on even further, solidifying his decision in cleansing you free. “I’m so- sorry. You were so kind to me and took me under your wing when I needed help and- and I just…”

You squirm under his ever so watchful eyes. “Filthy thing”, his fingers enclose around your jaw, fingers forcing your lips to pucker open and spits. “To think giving you shelter would be enough was foolish of me, but we know better now, don’t we? You’re in need of drastic measures and it is me who has to whip you into shape. But fear not, I will not falter to bring you to the light side. I’ll fuck the virtue into you if I need to.”

It all happens so fast, you can barely keep up. One moment he hikes up the skirt of your frilly, little nightgown, chilly air hitting your exposed skin, the next he’s pumping his leaking cock right in front of your pussy lips. You try with all your strength – which admittedly, isn’t a lot – to get away from him, but he’s a strong man. And you should already know, shouldn’t you? Haven’t you spent night and night again, admiring his physique when he so graciously read the bible for you? Haven’t you fantasized about those very arms holding your naked body against his as he’d plunge into you in rapid speed? He’s right, you muse, you’re nothing but a common slut.

“God forgive me”, he groans and gets to work.

Funny, how such innocent glances can lead to such thorough punishment. Or was it redemption at last? You can’t tell anymore – too lost in the feelings of his palm, striking your thighs, face, tits; his hips clashing into your own with such force, it’s hard not to wince from pain; his stern look casting down at you and promising both salvation and damnation. Filthy thing, you repeat in your head, filthy, filthy, filthy. You should be grateful a man of God deems you worthy of his attention, let alone his cock.

Your insides are burning and your lungs feel like they might give out any minute, too exhausted from all the sobbing and crying, but Kai stays relentless. “Father, please”, you plead.

His response is sinister, but you know, a filthy thing like you deserves it. “Patience is a virtue”, he pants. “But what would you know about virtue?”

And he’s right.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

💎💍TO CATCH A THIEF💍💎

Prompt: Inspired by the song: To Catch A Thief by Lovage

Word Count: Really Long, girl 😩

Pairings: 1930’s Mob! Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, smut (implied), murder, manipulation.

Tagging: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: As cliche as it sounds, I’m a truly lover of music and love different genres. I love to be able to show different types of bands/ projects/ music that sometimes people might not even know exists. So this little fic is inspired by one of my favorite music projects EVER: LOVAGE (it has Mike Patton on it, so of course I would love it! The man has been my musician crush since I was 9 years old! And he’s amazing, so). Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

Of course I’ve heard of them and of course they’ve caught my interest! The Reigns’s and Uso’s were one of the biggest gangsters families among the USA, who were responsible for the biggest robberies across the country.

The current rumors spreading around the neighborhood swore they were here, hiding from the authorities, in our small little town.

And I would give anything to meet one of them. As the daughter of a prostitute, my only fate was to follow my mother’s footsteps but I am more ambitious than that! The only way to prosper in life is to be completely feared. Be feared not respected as Machiavelli himself taught. And I know, for a fact that, that is completely true! Growing up in the red light neighborhood had proved to be quite the life lesson, actually. ‘Don’t trust the police’, ‘Make alliances with criminals’, ‘Trust no one’, ‘Don’t snitch’, ‘You never hear or see anything’, ‘Mind your own business’, ‘Don’t allow people to mind YOUR business’, ‘Show no emotions’, ‘Always be smarter than your enemies’, were a few of those rules. People think that, for a woman to be perfectly successful in the 1930’s she needs to be a trophy wife, nothing more than a beautiful face with zero brains and a pair of open legs to a rich husband. But they are wrong! You see, any woman can use her beauty and charm to manipulate and conquer whatever she wants, but she can only maintain that manipulation power if she’s smart enough. I’ve had the town mayor, Mr. Heyman, gift me a beautiful diamond crown (that originally was meant to be his wife’s birthday present) just with some charm and sweet nothings whispered to him. I didn’t needed to warm his bed for it, I just had to be smart enough to understand his weaknesses and say the right words! I know what I want, so I get it, and believe me when I say: I will have Roman Reigns all to myself.

Things were disappearing in my neighborhood

Once again somebody was up to no good

I saw that you were wanted, but not like I wanted you

And that's when I knew I had to be with you

And that's when I knew if I didn't, I'd be through

To end my grief I'd have to catch a thief

Your love was my relief my love is your release.

Ah! Mayor Heyman’s high society ‘charity gala balls’ (aka meet your husband’s new mistress), were the most futile yet amusing events of this town. I wasn’t a high society woman, economically speaking but again I’m good at saying the right things to the right people. So it’s no surprise to see my name in the mayor’s guest list.

I entry the big doors of the city hall wearing my most recently acquisition: an emerald green velvet dress (gifted by the Senator John), my high heels (Another gift from Mr. Smith, the banker) and my hand purse (from the all so lovely Mayor Heyman)...Speak of the Devil.

“Y/N” He greeted

“Oh, Mayor Heyman. What an honor” I smiled sweetly

“Believe me, it’s my honor, dear” He kisses my hand in an flirtatious way. And it’s a good thing I’m great at keeping my gag reflex in control.

“Oh please, I’m the one who has to thank you for always reminding little old me for your tremendously chic events. I can’t express my gratitude enough for you always having so much compassion in your heart!” I scoot closer to him, slightly fixing his tie “It is such a shame that you’re a married man, mayor Heyman, I would have loved to be your wife” I whispered softly

He gulped “I can change that” He smirked

“Oh please, mayor!” I stepped back with a offended look on my face “As a Christian woman, I cannot support divorce! That is some type of thinking that will lead us directly back to sodom and gomorrah! I can’t believe you just said that to me” I make the sign of the cross

“I am so sorry, Y/N it was not my intention-“

“I am not a prostitute or a home wrecker, mayor Heyman! I am a woman devoted to the Lord and I will not accept or tolerate that type of language or insinuations towards me!”

“I am deeply sorry Y/N, I truly am! Let me make it up to you. Here” He fastly signed a blank check “Please take this”

“I can’t” I whisper, pretending embarrassment

“Please, Y/N! It’s the least I can do. You can use it for whatever you want, no matter the price. I could never offend you! You’re such an amazing woman. Please accept it!” His pleading eyes let me know I had him hooked.

I ‘reluctantly’ accepted “Well, thank you, so much” I murmur with tears upon my eyes

“No, I’m the one who has to thank you, for dismissing my ogre behavior” He smiled “I’ll leave you now, so you can fix your makeup”

“Thank you, mayor Heyman”

Once he’s out of my sight, I can drop the naïve girl routine.

“Impressive” A deep male voice spoke from behind me

When I turn around, my knees almost failed me... it was him.

“I beg your pardon?” I ask

“The little stunt you just did with the mayor, was truly impressive. I swear that if I didn’t saw you get out of your naïve christian woman character I would have one hundred percent believed too” He smirked

“Mr. Reigns. That’s a compliment coming from you”

“You know who I am”

I shrugged “I’ve heard a few things here and there”

He gets closer to me, until our faces almost touched

“Yeah? Tell me, Y/N. That’s your name right?” He asked and I nodded

“What have you heard, Y/N?”

“How your the head of the table on your family’s business” I mumbled

“How does a woman like you, know about my family’s business, Y/N?” He walks forward, making me step back until I my back reached a closed door.

“I was raised on the streets”

Roman’s eyebrows raise in surprise “Really? You don’t seem like the streets type” He said, caressing my cheek.

“I had to learn how to be more polished if I didn’t wanted to become a hooker”

“I see” He buried his nose on my neck, inhaling deeply my perfume as his hands rested on my waist “And I imagine your perfume is also a result from a similar scene with the mayor” Roman whispered in my ear

“The senator not the mayor” I cackled

He amusingly laughs on my ear “You have friends in high places, huh?” His hands moved up, cupping my breasts through the dress

“People use what they have, Mr. Reigns” I look into his eyes “You use you intimidating strength” I squeeze his biceps “And I use my womanly charm” I batted my lashes “They’re both means to an end”

Come into my window

It's open every night

That's where I'll be waiting

I'll keep off all the lights

I'm lying on my bed

Crown jewels on my head

The loud knocks on my front door made me quickly get up. Going down the stairs I can see a tall manly figure waiting for me to come and answer. I grab my Colt 1908 Pocket Hammerless gun from the little drawer on my cupboard.

Placing my finger on the trigger I opened the door.

“Yes?” I ask harmlessly

“Mrs. Y/N?” The tall Samoan man asked

I nodded once

“My name is Jey and I’m here in behalf of Mr. Reigns”

I nodded again

“Why don’t you come and take a ride with me?” Jey coldly smiled

I'd never give you up

So come in from the cold, let your guard down

I'd hide you from the cops

Don't be frightened now my love

I'll take the life of crime, all to make you mine

The hotel room is big, fancy and very expensive by the looks of it. If I had to take a lucky guess, I would say that he’s not paying for anything in here, it is all a curtesy from the mayor.

“I’m glad you came” Roman smiles

“Did I had a choice?” I tilted my head

“No, you didn’t” He chuckled “Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“Are you going to drug me if I say yes?” I joke

“Depends on your answer to my proposal” He smirked

“Proposal?”

“Yes” Roman got up from his chair coming to stand in front of me

“You see, Y/N. You’re a very, very interesting woman. Ambitious, smart, charming, intelligent and gorgeous. You’re not easily scared, in fact, it looks like you enjoy danger” He pulled me closer to him, until our bodies were pressed together “I could use a woman like you in my business. At the gala ball you told me about your goals in life and I could see with my own eyes you successfully work your magic on every men in that room. So, what I propose to you is: come with me, I’m leaving town tomorrow and I would like for you to come with me, be a part of my team, use your looks and your brain to our favor.”

“And what’s in it for me?” I asked

“Money, power, jewels...Anything you want” He sincerely said

“What if I would like to add you to that package?” I whispered

Come in off that roof top

You're so handsome dressed in black

See you in the shadows

I'd like to see you on your back

Take this precious treasure

And I will treasure you

Roman smirked “So be it! If you want me too, then you can have me”

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a famished kiss. Pushing me down on the bed, his broad body hovering over mine, grinding, kissing, biting, panting, pounding and moaning until the first rays of sunshine from the next day peaked through the curtains...

6 MONTHS LATER

“What do you say about we take a drink, Mrs. Reigns?” Tony, my husband’s arch enemy and Capo of the Italian Mob asked

“I would love to” I smile sweetly as I hook my arm in his. Going to the back alley.

“I figured it was already time for you to leave that husband of yours for a real man, you know? And I knew you would come to me, sugar” Tony winked

“You’re right, Tony. I do need a real man” I smirked to the shadows when the gun fired.

Tony’s body fell down by my side on the dirty alley street

“But you didn’t thought you were that man, right?” I cackled

Roman’s arm circle around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“Hello Tony” He smiled “Did you really thought you could have her?” Roman chuckled “C’mon, we both know she’s too much of a woman for you! You can’t handle it! I bet you’re regretting to have thought with your dick now, don’t you?”

“She will leave you eventually Reigns. Just wait for it!” Tony spat

I pressed my high heel on his chest wound, pressing it down and making Tony scream in agony

“You watch your mouth, you fucking fat pig! You know nothing, you ARE NOTHING! I would never leave Roman for you” I laugh “I will never leave him for anyone” I smile at him, aiming to his head and pressing the trigger right afterwards.

We'll run away my dear

Some place special have no fear

We'll even change our names

We'll be kinky, we'll be strange

I'll take the life of crime, all to make you mine

All to catch a thief

Your love is my relief, my love is your release

Your love is my relief, my love is your release

All to catch a thief

“You are perfect” Roman whispered, kissing me vigorously in front of Tony’s dead body. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here” He opened the passenger door of his Rolls Royce and I enter it.

Once we’re driving through the highway he says

“I can’t wait for us to get to the hotel” Roman kisses my hand, intertwining our fingers “I’m going to fuck you senseless” He growls

And I can’t help the happiness smile that spreads on my lips..