#a sea of officials parts before him as he strides through their midst

[mira-likes]

It's interesting to see Fan Xian himself clock this, and use this at the end of s2. Fan Xian bets that not even grandmaster Ye Liuyun can kill him--not unless he wants the Ye family to be wiped out. Fan Xian is confident that the Ye family's heads will roll in the event of his death; the only question is whether the grandmaster will care. And the grandmaster does care, but more to the point--everyone knows how important Fan Xian is, now. I wonder how--if at all--this will change his interactions with people once he returns to the capital.

Hearing Lin Gong say confidently:

“I’ll kill Fan Xian! Let him come into my courtyard, and then my guards will ambush him! Don’t worry, I can bear the responsibility!”

… makes it so clear how at this point, none of these people know who Fan Xian is. Can even the Prime Minister’s son bear the responsibility for killing a secret prince and the apple of Chen Pingping’s murderous eye? This is all way above his pay grade. If Lin Gong had succeeded in killing Fan Xian, he would likely have doomed himself and his whole family, and he has absolutely no idea

[rosemaidenvixen]

In the Fullness of Time

Chapter 4: Years Past

Ao3

Content warning: Classist language, Violation of bodily autonomy without knowledge or consent

Merlin swore as the carriage went over yet another bump.

“A thousand pardons Lord Merlin sir!” Galahad called from outside “Road’s a bit rough out this ways,”

Rough, that was a gentle way to put it. Was this an actual road or were they driving over a legion of troll remains? This was no way for a Master Wizard to travel, but where he was going his preferred forms of magical transportation would not be...well received “How much longer Galahad?”

Without warning the carriage jerked to a stop, Merlin letting out a whole string of curses as he was nearly thrown from his seat.

“We’ve arrived! Mind your boots, ground’s a touch muddy,”

“...Thank you for the warning,” Merlin grumbled, getting to his feet and opening the carriage door.

If anything Galahad had understated the conditions. The road, if one applied the term quite loosely, was nothing more than a coarse dirt track that went from the larger, more maintained road to their destination. Thoroughly churned by countless wagons and boots until it was a quagmire of mud and rubish, reaching ankle deep in places.

Merlin let out a sigh, resigned himself to the inevitable filth, and stepped down, grimacing as his boots sank into the muck. The small company of knights around him dismounted with a clatter of metal and leather. Galahad himself hopped off the front of the carriage and jogged up to face Merlin “What are your orders sir?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Merlin said while gracefully stepping around the knight “You and your men may stand down, I shall deal with this myself,”

Moving with surprising speed, Galahad ran forward and once again blocked his path “With all due respect, I cannot do that, the king’s orders are that all unregistered magic users be investigated by a company of trained knights, no exceptions,”

Merlin barely suppressed a grumble, it was rather impressive how Arthur managed to be both brilliant and a fool “Very well then, set up a perimeter around this…” he glanced warily at the buildings ahead of them “village...don’t want any surprises coming in or getting out,”

“Right on then,” Galahad turned towards the knights “You heard the man, spread out and surround the village! No surprises in or out,”

The knights all rushed to obey, Galahad joining them, as Merlin walked up the road straight into the thicket of buildings. He could have easily handled this by himself, no need for busybodies gumming up the works. But Arthur insisted on the knights’ presence to...what was it? Reassure the masses…

Merlin spared a glance at the people of the hamlet as he passed through. 

Men and women in clothes just as patchy and ragged as the buildings around them lined either side of his path. As soon as they noticed his presence they parted like all of the sea, ducking inside buildings and hurrying down alley ways. Some peeked at him out of cracked windows and doors while speaking to each other in hushed whispers. A precious few stood their ground, glaring openly at Merlin as he passed by, nearly drawing a laugh out of the Wizard. 

Ignorant rabble the lot of them. 

Fools who spent their lives with noses buried so deep in the dirt they couldn’t be bothered to look up at the stars.

There had been a time in his youth that he longed to teach people like these. To use his powers to help those that lacked the tools to help themselves. To bring enlightenment to those that clung stubbornly to the dark.

Had he ever really been that young?

Merlin shook his head to dispel the daydreams. 

More likely than not this so-called sorcerer was someone that happened to swear right as a pitcher of milk was falling to the floor. Soon enough Merlin could clear this all up and be on his way. As it was all he wanted was to get back to Camelot and have his boots cleaned to a polish. 

A space opened up in front of him as he reached the heart of the village, Merlin paused and glanced around. Most decent sized settlements surrounding Camelot had a central building of sorts, usually used for storage and official gatherings. Even smaller communities had squares that served much of the same purpose.

This town, if it was large enough to truly be considered that, had neither of those things. The only sort of central feature present was a modest stone well, which a large crowd was gathered around.

“--which is why we need to burn him!” a woman’s voice screeched “We cannot tolerate this evil blight in our midst!”

“And anger the demons who made him? Are you mad!? No, we have to sink him in the bog, give him back to his own,” 

“I’m not touching him! You know what Fae do to those who mess with them and theirs, best to wait for the king’s men to come, let them deal with--”

“We’re wasting time! Just give me a barrel and a cartful of peat and I’ll do the job myself!”

Merlin cleared his throat softly, just loud enough to make the gathered crowd turn in his direction. Upon sighting him nearly every one of them gasped and staggered back in alarm. Only three held their ground, two men and a woman, the one who so fiercely advocated for burning if he remembered right.

He allowed his face to mold into the placating smile he so often used when discussing magic with those who hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked “Good morrow to you folk, I am Merlin Ambrosius, here on behalf of the king. Now I understand you’ve been having trouble with a sorcerer?”

One of the men, the one in charge if his slightly cleaner coat and trousers were anything to go by, stepped forward and stammered out a response “Y-- yes, we have him locked up for now, but there’s no telling what kind of curses he’s brewing,”

Even with all of Merlin’s considerable patience, he was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes. These simpletons wouldn’t know a curse if he conjured one up right in front of them.

Well time to go clear this up and let the village goat herd or whoever it was out of wherever they’d penned him up “I promise you have nothing to fear, a squadron of the king’s best knights are here with me and they will allow no harm to befall you. Now take me to this sorcerer of yours and I will deal with him myself,”

The crowd visibly relaxed at his words; or more precisely, upon learning of the knights’ presence, the village headman slowly nodding at him “Follow me then,”

Merlin allowed himself to be lead to the far side of the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind. No doubt curious about his powers as much as they feared and despised them. The headman stopped at the edge of the buildings, pointing into the trees beyond “He’s in there,”

A cave barred with a wooden door was built into a hill a short distance away from the village proper. A space no doubt ordinarily used for storage now converted to a makeshift prison cell.

The headman twisted his cap in his hands “So...how long will it take you to--”

“That will be enough,” Merlin waved him off “I’ll take care of everything from here on out,”

The headman swallowed hard but still stepped aside to let Merlin pass, striding towards the cave. None of the villagers followed him, of course not that he expected any of them to.

Reaching the cave door, he opened it a crack and poked his head in. It was too dark to see the contents of the cave, the light of the open door doing little to penetrate the gloom.

“Hello?” Merlin called into the dark cave “Anyone in here?”

No reply from within the cave was forthcoming. Merlin remained standing in the doorframe in silence for a few moments. 

His patience was rewarded when a soft sniffle broke through the silence.

Merlin blinked in surprise. Well that was...unexpected.

He opened the door all the way, banishing some, but not all of the shadows. Allowing for his eyes to adjust just enough to see a small figure huddled in the far corner of the cave.

A child, dark haired, a boy by the looks of it, sat curled up on the floor of the cave. And by the look of how dirty and disheveled he was, he had been in here for some time. Clear tracks ran down his cheeks from where tears had cut through the dust. The child wasn’t crying at the moment, though whether that was due to exhaustion or dehydration remained to be seen.

Merlin strode over, slowly as not to startle him, and got down on one knee a few feet in front of the boy “Hello there,”

The child said nothing but followed him with his eyes, clearly trying to gauge how much of a threat the Wizard was.

Merlin gave his best, non-threatening, smile “Let’s lighten things up a bit, shall we?” he held out his palm, and with the barest breath of effort a green witchlight flared to life there before floating up to the cave ceiling, filling the small space with emerald light. 

A parlor trick by his standards, but it served as a good example to those not versed in the subtleties of Wizardry.

The child lifted his head to stare at the witchlight as it ascended to the roof of the cave, mouth open and eyes large with wonder.

“Now tell me young one…”

Aware he was being addressed, the child tore his gaze away from the ceiling to stare back at the Wizard, wariness coming off of him in palatable waves.

“Can you do anything like that?”

Merlin expected the child to shake his head, or at the most mumble a soft no. So it came as no small shock when the child raised his own tiny palm and stared at it with furrowed intensity.

His astonishment was even greater when cerulean sparks flared to life in the boy’s hand.

They flickered for a few seconds before going out, the boy letting out a small puff of exhaustion as they did.

This was no charlatan or victim of coincidence, this boy had actual power. And for someone of his age to even attempt to mimic a spell after only seeing it performed in front of him once…

This boy had potential.

And Merlin would be damned if he let such potential waste away in a dank cave.

Merlin got down on both knees “What is your name young one?”

“Hi-- Hisirdoux,”

“Well then Hisirdoux, what do you say we go outside and discuss things further?”

“I...I can’t…”

“Of course you can, others may not like what you can do but if I say you can leave no one will stop you,”

“But…” Hisirdoux raised one of his arms ever so slightly, a soft clink of metal accompanying the action.

A sound no louder than a cricket’s chirp, deafening to Merlin’s ears.

“Boy, show me your hands,”

Hisirdoux complied, stretching both arms out in front of him, allowing Merlin to see crude iron shackles wrapped around his wrists, sloppily fastened to heavy chains bolted into the cave wall.

Merlin had been millenia old even before Camelot was founded. He’d watched empires rise and crumble. And he’d seen every manner of cruelty that humans could inflict on each other. By now there was no atrocity that was capable of shocking him.

This however, gave him pause.

“Hold still Hisirdoux, let me get those off you,”

Merlin moved closer, raising a hand over Hisirdoux’s wrists, gently probing into the shackles with his magic. 

Elemental iron was the antithesis to magic and could impede it in any form, from raw ore to rusty nails, but it’s true power of binding lay in its shaping. Molding the earth and bending it your will, ingenuity triumphing over the unknown. And a clever and experienced Wizard such as himself could see through the patterns of iron’s construction and unravel it.

It was not difficult, these shackles were especially crude. Hastily hammered together from materials never intended to bind. Probably why Hisirdoux was still able to manifest some power. So it only took a minute, then a flick of his fingers and the shackles fell to the ground.

However the damage had been done.

Hisirdoux whimpered, gently poking at one of the angry red burn marks with a wince. 

Merlin laid both hands over the boy’s wrists.

“Sana et integro,”

Bands of green light bloomed to life and wrapped around the burn marks, slowly fading as they sank into the skin, taking some of the bright redness with it. It wouldn’t heal Hisirdoux completely, but it should end his pain for now.

However he would carry the scars with him for the rest of his life.

Had his neighbors known how badly the iron would injure him, a young child fresh into his magic, or had they merely been concerned with sealing his power away at any cost?

The real question was if any of them bloody cared.

“Better?”

Hisirdoux nodded with a sniffle.

“Good,” Merlin reached over and gently cupped his chin, the boy flinching at the contact, tilting his head up to look him in the eye “Hisirdoux, what I can do and what you can do is called magic, the ability to channel the arcane energies of the universe to bend them to your will,”

Hisirdoux said nothing, merely stared up at him with wide, but not frightened, eyes.

“You are capable of so much more than you know, and if you become my apprentice, I can teach you how to wield your powers to their fullest potential,”

“B...but I don’t want to be an apprentice, I want to stay here with mother and father,”

Merlin held back a sigh of disappointment. Hisirdoux might not have realized it yet, but he had no home here, not anymore. No matter, that truth would make itself known soon enough, the only thing to do was get it over with as quickly as possible. no reason for Merlin to prolong the inevitable.

“Very well then,” Merlin stood and extended his hand “I will take you to them,”

Even though he was far from being moved by such things, sentimentality being something he’d abandoned centuries ago, seeing the flash of hope on Hisirdoux’s face and knowing how unfounded it was hardly felt pleasant.

Hisirdoux reached up, tiny fingers grasping his own, and pulled himself to his feet. Following along as Merlin stepped out of the cave, wincing as they stepped into the bright sunlight.

How many days has his parents sat back and allowed him to be locked away in the dark?

Merlin wasn’t overly fond of the sensation of the tiny, grubby fingers grasping his own, but it was the best way to keep Hisirdoux from running off. If their talk of burning earlier hadn’t convinced him, seeing Hisirdoux’s condition in the cave cinched it. 

The boy was not safe here.

And sure enough, as they approached the village, Hisirdoux brightened, and started to pull away “Mother! Father!”

Merlin kept his grip on Hisirdoux’s hand firm, not letting go as they stepped up to the gathered villagers, despite the boy’s attempts to pull away. Steeling his expression when he saw the mother and father Hisirdoux was looking at.

Hopefully Hisirdoux never had to learn that his mother wanted to burn him alive.

The tell-tale clatter of plate armor came up from beside him, and Merlin turned to see Galahad rapidly approaching. 

“How goes it finding the unregistered sorcerer, any luck?”

Merlin paused and greeted the knight with a nod, ignoring Hisirdoux’s attempts to break free and run to his parents “As a matter of fact I have, he right here,”

“Where? All I see is some waifish…..” Galahad trailed off, eyes going wide from behind his bushy brows.

Good to see Merlin wasn’t the only one appalled at how these villagers had treated their ‘sorcerer’. 

And speaking of a crowd was starting to form around them, drawn by Merlin’s appearance and Hisirdoux’s shouts. 

Merlin straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders.

Time to reset the wound as quickly as possible.

“False alarm everyone,” he gestured towards the squirming Hisirdoux with one hand while looking around at the gathered villagers “This boy does have magic, but he is of no threat to you, you can all go back to your ordinary lives,”

Hisirdoux strained as he continued to try and escape Merlin’s grip and run to his parents “Mother! Mother! I can come home now!”

The mother in question stepped up close and glowered down at him, expression hard enough that it caused Hisirdoux’s brightness to dim “That’s not my boy, not any longer, that child is tainted by darkness, he has no place in my house or in this village,”

No one else around them spoke up, either in agreement or objection, although based on the looks on their faces they hardly disagreed.

Hisirdoux froze, expression beginning to crumple “But moth--”

“Don’t you dare!” the woman shrieked, the sheer venom dripping from her voice enough to cause Hisirdoux, some of the villagers around her, and even Galahad to recoil “Don’t you dare address me as your mother! You’re a curse, a demon, you dare to call yourself our child, deceiving us and hiding your true nature so you can bring ruin to us all--”

“Beloved enough,” the man next to her put an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back “I know this is a trying time for you, but you must not lose yourself in such wrathful displays,”

He put both hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye “Our child may be tainted by Fae magics, but all is not lost, soon the evil will be gone. And there will be more children between us,”

She sighed, slumping in his grip “You are right, soon our village will be godly once more, and we will have more children to replace the one we lost,”

Hisirdoux had gone completely still, staring up at his parents with an utterly horrified, heartbroken expression. 

His father turned back towards Merlin “My wife speaks true, that’s no son of mine, either you take care of him or we’ll do it ourselves,”

An unfortunate but not unexpected response “Very well then,” he gave a gentle tug on the fingers still clasped in his “Hisirdoux?”

The boy looked up at him, eyes brimming. 

“My offer still stands, do you wish to become my apprentice?”

He gave a terse nod, tiny faced pinched in the effort to hold back tears.

“Then let us go and--”

“Hang on,” Hisirdoux’s father cut in “You can’t just carry my son off,”

Merlin raised an eyebrow “I thought you said he was no son of yours?”

The man flushed but held his ground “I sired him, raised him, and fed him. Can’t just let anyone go carrying him off with nothing to show for it,”

The sheer audacity of this man stopped Merlin in his tracks “How are you to demand such a thing when you’ve made it quite clear you’re not interested in taking him back?”

A triumphant glint entered the man’s eyes “You seem fairly interested in him, wouldn’t want to leave him and have something happen now would you?”

Merlin’s expression darkened, disgust he’d thought himself long past feeling slowly trickling into his chest. He’d seen poor reactions to people discovering their child was touched by magic many times before, this was far from the first time Merlin had witnessed parents proclaim their child dead while they stood living before their eyes. But never in all his centuries had he witnessed any cling so greedily to the corpse “You presume much if you think you can command me to--”

“It’s not as though you can just carry him off,” the the man said, unnervingly calm “The king wouldn’t be happy to hear of his Master Wizard carrying off children from their parents. So you can either pay my price or I’ll find someone who will,” 

Around him the other villagers, his wife included, were murmuring in agreement. Mentions of prices or even other options should Merlin prove unwilling to pay floating up in hushed bits of conversation.

Hisirdoux glanced back and forth between the two men. As young as he was he couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of the situation surrounding him. But he clearly understood something, some base instinct informing him of the peril he was in, that he stood at the crossroads of danger and safety. His tiny fingers gripping Merlin’s hand with all the feeble strength he could muster. 

The disgust filling him deepened into a rage the likes of which he hadn’t felt in decades. Merlin had to make an effort not to shatter Hisirdoux’s fingers in his grip. From off to the side he could see Galahad watching the entire exchange with his jaw hanging open.

These people, who owned little more than the clothes on their backs, had been blessed with a child with immense magical potential, who possessed the power to potentially build their hamlet up to a kingdom in its own right, and this was how they treated him? They didn’t even afford him the dignity that they would a rat or a wolf, to them Hisirdoux was merely property. Blighted property that they had no desire to keep, but every right to sell to the highest bidder.

These fools had done what in a single afternoon what beings far greater than them had spent years trying and failing to accomplish.

They had made Merlin angry.

He let out a sigh and hung his head “Very well, name your price,”

The man grinned victoriously “Eighty pounds and not a pence less,”

“Fine,” Merlin said coldly.

The man blinked, clearly expecting some haggling involved.

“Galahad,” 

The knight jerked towards him, startled out of his stupefied state.

“Write up a contract stating that these two,” he inclined his head towards the couple in front of him “Are to receive eighty pounds in exchange for signing over their son to be a ward of the crown,”

Galahad nodded slowly, pulling open his bag of parchment and official seals “I’ll get right on that,” he glanced down at Hisirdoux, tears now openly rolling down his small face “How about you two go ahead and wait in the carriage, I won’t be but a minute,”

Merlin nodded, turning and tugging Hisirdoux after him as he headed away from the village and back towards the awaiting carriage.

He waited until Galahad and the crowd of villagers were far out of earshot before starting the chant. Hisirdoux could no doubt hear him, but he would neither remember the words or understand their significance.

Merlin preferred not to use blood magic, both due to the impracticality and the immense risk, but today he would make an exception.

Hisirdoux’s parents, with a complete lack of understanding of magic and how it functions, had declared their child tainted and cut him out of their hearts and community. Deciding to either sell him to offset their so-called loss or kill him and be done with it.

Well if that was the way they treated their firstborn child, Merlin would ensure that there would be no more children after Hisirdoux, for either of them.

From now until their dying days Hisirdoux’s parents would never again bear children, neither with each other nor any other partner.

The words felt cold and slimy falling from his lips, the magic they invoked soft and subtle. Slowly creeping into the bodies of Hisirdoux’s mother and father, altering them just enough to accomplish his goal.

Of course the blood magic curse would only affect those two, the rest of the village, the ones who had been complicit at best and gleeful participants at worst, would not share its effects.

But they would see Hisirdoux’s parents, see what the curse did to them without ever knowing the cause for certain. And they would wonder, and they would be afraid. 

He completed his curse just as the carriage and the rest of the knights came into view, falling silent as he stepped up to them, from far behind he could feel the last traces of magic settle into place and the curse take hold.

Merlin helped Hisirdoux climb the steps into the carriage, from behind him he heard Galahad come up and call to the rest of the knights.

“Alright we’re burning daylight, let’s get a move on!”

A quick glance to the west revealed just how right Galahad was, the sun was now far lower in the sky and they needed to hurry if they wanted to make it to safety before the darkness came and brought trolls with it. Moving swiftly, he stepped into the carriage and shut the door behind him, lifting Hisirdoux up onto the seat and sitting himself beside him just as the carriage pulled to a start.

Hisirdoux remained silent the whole while, had been ever since he’d heard what his parents truly thought of him, eyes locked on the small window, watching the village that had been his home slowly fade into the distance. 

“Hisirdoux,” Merlin spoke softly “I know you must be dealing with quite a lot right now, but you need to understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with your abilities. They are a tool like a sword or a hammer that can be used for good or for ill. They are not evil or corrupt they simply are,” 

The boy refused to look directly at him, eyes bright and lip trembling.

“How your village reacted to your abilities isn’t a reflection of your faults, but of theirs,”

Hisirdoux didn’t react aside from a sniffle, small shoulders starting to shake.

Years from now Hisirdoux would look back on this day as nothing more than a faded scar, a memory of a wound long since healed. But the future was far away, and today the wound was still fresh and raw. Merlin had said and done all he could for now; some wounds could only be healed with time. 

Settling back in his seat, Merlin turned to glance out his own window, prepared to spend the rest of the trip in silence.

Without warning something abruptly pressed into his side.

Startled, Merlin glanced sharply down, only to see Hisirdoux clinging to his torso, openly sobbing against him.

The sight was so baffling that Merlin didn’t know how to react. 

What on earth did this boy think he was doing? Merlin was a Master Wizard, not some nursemaid Hisirdoux could cling to whenever he wished. Merlin’s duty as his master was to instruct him in the ways of magic and that was it, he’d hire a nanny for everything else. If Hisirdoux was going to be his apprentice the boy needed to bloody well learn the difference between the two straight away.

He raised a hand to push Hisirdoux away, but paused just before it could touch him. Keeping it poised in the air for a few seconds, Hisirdoux’s weak sobs echoing in the small carriage, before dropping it with a sigh. Lowing his hand to softly pat Hisirdoux’s back instead.

Perhaps some indulgence was in order, the boy had just been cast out of his home and family. Granted it didn’t look like either of those had been worth very much, but still they were all that he had ever known.

This couldn’t be a regular occurrence, as soon as they got to Camelot Merlin would arrange for a proper nanny to handle caring for Hisirdoux. As master and apprentice, Merlin was responsible for Hisirdoux’s education and nothing else. But just for today, he would make an exception.

As their journey went on, the carriage rocking along as it carried them down the rugged road, Hisirdoux’s sobs gradually softened into sniffles, Merlin rubbing his back all the while, eventually he quieted altogether, though still remaining curled up against Merlin’s side.

“Hisirdoux?” Merlin said quietly.

No response.

He glanced down, glimpsing shut eyes and a slack face, a soft snore escaping him.

For a moment Merlin just stared incredulously. 

The child had fallen asleep on him, of all the impertinent-- good lord what if he started drooling on him?

Merlin briefly considered trying to move him, before settling back in resignation. If he tried to move the boy chances are he would wake up, and after being locked away for days with hardly any food or water and his wrists wrapped in iron...Hisirdoux needed a good rest.

And while Merlin wasn’t smitten with the idea of being drooled on, at least while he was sleeping Hisirdoux would be quiet and out of the way.

Tilting forward as much as he could without disturbing the sleeping child, Merlin peeked out his window, and again out the opposite one. Seeing no knights riding near enough to see inside, he swiftly snapped his fingers. A blanket on the opposite seat becoming sheathed in green light, leaping over and tucking itself securely around Hisirdoux’s sleeping form, the light around it vanishing just as quickly as it appeared

Satisfied that the deed had gone unwitnessed, Merlin leaned back and gave Hisirdoux one more soft pat on the back as the carriage continued on down the road.

[dat-town]

Kiss the cold away

Characters: (cursed)prince!Yoongi & princess OC ft. Snow Queen Elsa

Setting: based on Andersen’s Snow Queen with characters from Frozen

Genre: angst (but nobody dies because of that cliché thing called true love)

Warnings: -

Words: 4630

Summary: “The first kiss is to shield him from the cold The second kiss is to make him forget all The third kiss would be the last in row Taking his life away once and for all.”

Notes: a.k.a what if Elsa turned evil and became the Snow Queen feared by everyone? And yes, Daegumor is the fairytale kingdom name of Daegu I made up. Finally, it’s here, Yoongi’s part of my Once upon a fairytale collection.

Moodboard

In Arendelle, the winter is never-ending.

The snow hasn’t melt for a year now and the always cold weather has created a pattern of chilly days and even more freezing nights. Poverty, hunger and fear lace through people’s lives. All blamed on their ill-fated country with an incompetent child leader. A princess who was never supposed to rule but has no choice but to wear the crown after her elder sister, the rightful heir of the throne ran away last year. Only a few know the true story of Queen Elsa’s disappearance and they stay silent. So with time, the rumours are getting wilder and wilder until nobody knows anymore what the truth is. Why would they care anyway? It doesn’t change anything.

Arendelle’s promising days are long gone, now the kingdom is nothing more than a landscape of frozen rivers and snow-coated mountains in the midst of thick fog. As this bitterly and heartlessly cold season crept into the heart of the once flourishing country, every ally turned their back on them, leaving Arendelle behind to survive on its own. So when a foreign delegation arrives to make a business trade favourable for both parties, people get hopeful. Commoners greet the majestic ship with grand celebration, gold and jewels as gifts, cheering for the arriving young prince and his people.

Daegumor, a sunny and prosperous country from the South, doesn’t seem to mind the bad talk about the once great kingdom. The royal guest is the Crown Prince himself, a young and fine man already of age but still unmarried. It’s not a secret that Princess Anna’s people, especially her advisors want her to marry a prince, someone exactly like him before her coronation on her 18th birthday but she’s madly and stupidly in love with a poor ice harvester. Still, people hope endlessly that maybe things will change now because of the attendance of the southern kingdom’s heir.

Prince Yoongi makes his way off the ship with such grace nobody dares to doubt his blue blood. The end of his dress coat trails behind him as he strides down the ramp, finally setting his foot on the frosty but steady ground. His midnight blue uniform - made of the finest velvet of the seven seas - hugs his wide shoulders and the golden buttons shine in the pale sunlight. His eyes, much like to his hair, are dark as black diamonds but hooded because of the intensity of white all around.

“Welcome in Arendelle, Your Highness. I hope your voyage went smoothly without any inconvenience,” Princess Anna lunges forward to greet him personally as the carriages behind them are getting ready to take leave.

Anna's teal dress and strawberry-blonde hair in a bun make her outstanding as if she was the first snowdrop to grow once the winter passed. She has a bright smile on her face but sadness still swims in her turquoise blue eyes. So much pain for someone of such a tender age, so much responsibility to carry on such fragile shoulders.

“It was alright, thank you. Please, do call me by my name for the sake of our kingdoms’ friendship,” the young man, who also cannot be more than twenty-five, already speaks like a king, politely but prideful. His stern look doesn’t change at all but his deep voice is as gentle as musicians’ fingers on their beloved instrument. There’s a subtle, only slightly noticeable accent between his vowels that gives away he’s not around from here yet it doesn’t sway his confidence. The small smile forming in the corner of his mouth is reserved yet charming as he greets her. “Princess Anna.”

The heiress can’t help but blush as the prince takes her gloved hands in his own and bends down to kiss it out of courtesy. It only lasts a few second but the ravishingly handsome, raven haired royal manages to take her breathe away.

“Let me introduce you my fiancée,” Yoongi steps aside so that a girl his age could step forward from behind him. She bows her head politely to the soon-to-be queen of Arendelle and Anna does the same marvelling at the older princess’ beauty, her silent elegance and the soft fabric and unique style of her dress. Everyone heard the stories of the lovely princess who was promised to the Crown Prince but the gossips never once mentioned the longing she has in her heart for him. But the way she looks at him, like he’s her whole world, tells it all.

They change a few more words of formality until one servant warns them about the approaching nightfall and ushers them into the carriages. The newly arrived delegation doesn’t understand what the fuss is about but the temperature drops several degrees as soon as the Sun settles down and the freezing cold bites into their flesh. None of them comment on the unrealistically sudden change and Anna doesn’t go into further explanation.

Only the sparkling stars dotted on the nightmare dark sky warn them but nobody listens. Nobody ever does.

During the following days the business meetings go well. The consensual deal of trade agreement comes to existence soon enough but the delegation’s stay in the kingdom has been extended because of an unexpected snow storm raging along the shores. No ship can leave the bay safely until it passes.

However, the prince doesn’t seem to be too bothered by it. He has never seen such a sight before, a land fully covered in pearl white snow hence it takes his breath away. He marvels at the scenery but soon, he grows restless and gets bored of being locked in the heated palace playing cards with dukes and talking about politics all day long. There’s no one to stop him when he fetches a horse and goes out to explore the woods not caring about the warnings about the monsters in the mountains. According to him, these myths are nothing more than dark tales to tell the children before bed to keep them from wandering away. He takes only one brave enough man with him and they ride off on a particularly cold morning.

“He has the soul of a wild horse,” the engaged princess mutters watching him galloping farther and farther away from her window. She looks after him until the dot of his figure gets lost in the fog and distance. “He cannot be kept in a cage.”

Yet, they all are. They are basically chained up by jewels and the crown, she thinks bitterly as she plays with the golden ring on her fourth finger. The noble metal’s touch on her skin burns. It hurts.

Unaware of her doubts, Yoongi rides into the citrus daybreak. The rising Sun paints the snow in hues of rainbow. The melodious sounds of the awakening nature fills his ears and he dives more into the woods, even farther away from the beaten path. The more they go towards the mountains, the colder and darker the forest gets. The fresh snow falls heavily onto them.

“Maybe we should head back, your Highness,” the knight shouts over the wind’s whooshing but the prince pays no mind to him as his gaze sets on something particularly interesting in the snow. He squints harder to see the ice towers reaching skywards better behind the mountainside. There's something spectacular about the way the sunlight gleams on the smooth surface, something enchanting and before he knows, he leads his horse closer despite the wild blizzard. A little more in and he can’t hear his knight’s protests anymore, he just goes straight ahead uncontrollably as if he was in hypnosis.

At one point even his horse gives up and he has to go on by himself. Forward, just a little more, a dulcet voice sings in his head mesmerizing him and he can’t say no even though he’s freezing. His dry lips have turned blue and even the velvet padding of his clothes and gloves can’t protect him against the cold. He falls onto his knees only a few feet away from the gorgeous ice palace that stands tall and majestic in the middle of the storm. His cheeks are stained pink, bitten by frost as snowflakes are resting on his lashes and between his onyx locks like stars decorating the night sky.

What kind of monster would live in such a pretty place? he faintly wonders recalling the commoners’ gossip about the mysteries of the mountains. He’s on guard, looking around curiously but weariness overwhelms his body with a newcoming force as the numbing cold settles in his bones is dragging him into a dreamless sleep.

“Are you lost, little prince?”

The luscious, dreamy tone he thinks he has heard before becomes one with the wind, slipping away through his stiff fingers. When he looks up in exhaustion, a lithe figure is approaching him. The young lady who looks like the embodiment of winter’s Norse goddess in her crystal-blue, skin tight dress which is almost nothing in this freezing cold but she doesn’t seem to be affected at all. Her French braided, platinum blonde hair is swept over her bare shoulder and when she’s close enough, Yoongi catches a sight of the necklace around her uncovered, swan neck. On the silver chain there’s a golden pendant with the engraving of a crocus, Arendelle’s official symbol and the realization hits the prince hard.

“Queen Elsa...” he sighs in awe wondering if maybe he’s lost his right mind or fainted somewhere along the way and now he’s dreaming. What would the runaway queen do in the coldest pits of the kingdom? Why would she hide here at all? Nonsense!

“Shh… aren’t you cold, dear?” the girl touches his jaw with a single finger but it’s enough to feel the cold creeping under his skin in full force. “I know how to make you warm,” she coos, voice sickly sweet and the smile on her ethereal face is the loveliest lie of all.

Yoongi is a smart and resourceful man yet he's lured into her trap just like flies stuck into the web of spiders.

“Well then that would be really kind of you if you told me, m’lady,” he whispers with trembling lips as he shivers out of control. The weather here is something he has never experienced before, not even once during his trips to the North. The ice under his boots feels unbreakable, the snowflakes seems to rain down for ever and the piercing cold is freezing the blood in his veins, stealing the warmth away.

The queen's smile widens like sunsets’ colours bleed and spread around the scenery: slowly and beautifully. Yet, there's something deadly in the lovely curve of her lips he can't quite decipher until he feels the soft pair of them touching his chapped, numb lips. His eyes bulge but he can't move as if the cool air froze his mind, too. He mindlessly lets her devour his mouth in the middle of swirling snow and he just stands there, unmoving like a statue. The wind has woken, yet the prince doesn't feel the chilly breeze it brings, only the honey taste of a winter kiss.

It reminds him of a particularly starry night in a sunny kingdom far far away and a girl with long Jasmine-hair, big doe eyes and pretty, shy smile. The memory of his almost mistake, a kiss that should have never happened. Yet, it didn't feel any less wrong because it didn't happen for real after all. Wishful thinking and daydreaming on restless nights doesn't matter, right?

The memory triggers something in him and blinking, he feels as if he had woken up from a dream. He pushes her away immediately. He touches his lips in pure shock and looks at the girl in bewilderment, feeling ashamed and angry. A witch, she must be one, the thought crosses his mind but it's already late: winter touched him in the most impossible ways.

His coal black hair has turned the lightest shade of blonde, almost white matching his equally pale skin. The cold isn’t colouring his cheeks anymore while his eyes are sparkling like silver with shiny gloss.

“Somebody has your heart already, am I right? Doesn't matter, you won’t care soon anyway,” she says and moves so quickly like no human could. She locks their lips for the second time and the prince is overcome by eternal calmness. Suddenly, it feels so right like nothing before. He's kissing back with the same fervor and only pulls back when he has to gasp for air. However, when with the newfound oxygen filling his lungs, he moves to close the gap between the two of them, eager to taste that sweet mint aroma on the adored lips again, Elsa pushes him away with a fake shy giggle.

“Patience, little prince. We have all the time in the world for ourselves. Don't you want to see our kingdom?”

“Yeah, of course, my queen,” he nods mesmerized since he knows no other order that his beloved queen’s words. She flashes a satisfied smile and turns towards her ice residence. Yoongi follows her without a second thought, like a puppet tugged by strings.

Somewhere in the depth of the magical, snow and frost covered forest, an old tale is told, sang as a sad lullaby in memory of every cursed prince visiting its land.

                              “The first kiss is to shield him from the cold                                 The second kiss is to make him forget all                                   The third kiss would be the last in row                                    Taking his life away once and for all.”

The guest princess is alone in her chambers, shivering from cold even in front of the fireplace. She doesn’t like it here, not at all. She loves the warm touches of Sun on her skin and the sounds of the sandy beach kissed by the waves. She misses home but she would follow Yoongi anywhere and everywhere. Arendelle, the winter kingdom is no exception.

“The prince. He’s gone!” a panicky voice roars as he bangs on the palace’s gate. Looking out of her granite window, the princess sees the knight whom the prince has left the place with. He has two horses with him but no trace of Yoongi.

The princess gasps in fear and hurries down the stairs not caring if she steps on the edge of her uncomfortably thick skirt. She blames the stupid cold for that too.

“What happened? Where is he?” she enquires as soon as knight steps into the hall.

She’s eager to know more, unsatisfied with so little information. What on Earth does he means by he’s gone? He simply can’t be! He’s the crown prince of Daegumor, he will rule one day with her by his side. The burning flame of his energy cannot die out so flatly, so insignificantly lost in a foreign forest.

The knight bows his head and then stares straight into her eyes regretfully. His voice doesn’t waver when he answers:

“I am sorry, Your Highness. We came upon a snow storm in the depth of woods and I lost him when we were riding near the cursed land.”

The word cursed sends chills down her spine. Yoongi, a man so sure of himself and his principles, can never believe in witchcraft. He would call it trickery and it could be his undoing.

“Then what are you waiting for? Form a search team and bring him back!” the princess demands desperately, causing a scene in the huge hall of the palace. She doesn't care about the pitiful glances on her or the fear in the eyes of knights, she just wants her fiancé back. Her Yoongi.

“With all due respect, but no man dares to go that close to that place since nobody came back from there,” the knight tells her tentatively, trying not to upset her even more. He fails even though he’s only telling the truth.

“It’s true,” Princess Anna agrees with a nod, her sad green eyes dull from grief and something nostalgic. Maybe she also tried to enter the land before but she couldn’t make it through the storm. Or what’s worse, maybe she lost somebody there, too.

“I don’t care,” the Daegumor princess almost screams. She can’t just sit back and wait. She can’t return to their kingdom without the heir. And without the other half of her heart.

She turns to the tired man who just returned with the bad news. “Take me until the point you can, and I will go alone from then.”

“But Princess...” a few people gasp while others are whispering, calling her crazy. Maybe she is, she doesn’t protest.

“I am sorry for troubling you, Your Highness, but I didn't know Arendelle was full of cowards,” she says bitterly but not out of spite. She doesn’t want to offend the soon-to-be queen on purpose. She’s only being honest because that's why she has to take actions herself. And if she fails, her spilled blood will be their fault. Not that she would hold grudges because she’s aware of the consequences but politics are just such menace things these days.

“We simply cannot lose more men to an impossible mission. But I am truly sorry to disappoint you and your country.” Anna says as sincere as ever. She will be a good queen, anybody can tell. She cares, but she cares for her own above all. Understandable but the older princess would rather die than to leave the prince behind. The Arendelle royal seems to suspect this as well because when she steps closer, her voice is soothing like goodbye words of a mother:

“Let me give you an advice. If I cannot stop you from going, then remember this: the cold takes away everything from you and it will numb what makes you human. There's only one thing that can save you and your prince...” she whispers and points where her heart lies.

“Good luck!” she bids her farewell with a cautious smile, not sure if she should but the fiancée can’t hear her anyway over the wild thumps in her chest.

A memory comes back to the Daegumor princess as bright and vividly as morning sunrays cut through dark clouds. It’s just the two of them alone: she and the crown prince playing in the gardens as reckless children. Before they knew politics, before the world has ruined the pure goodness in their hearts, they were nothing more or less than childhood best friends. Friends that were separated because of studying abroad and other duties at the age of twelve. They haven't seen each other and only exchanged long letters until the day of their engagement that was arranged without their accord or knowledge. Politics does not need the opinion of children, their parents said and they sat at the dining table in silence. What had been done couldn’t be undone anyway. Their protests would have only caused a scene. Proving them to be exactly what they were thought to be: kids.

“I will learn to love you like that,” the prince promised her that night, at the door of her chambers. He has always been a cute child but growing up he has become devilishly handsome and she couldn’t control her trembling, weak heart. She would have sworn he must heard it too when he kissed her on the cheek whispering goodnight into her skin. She blushed poppy red as she watched him walk away.

Like what? A lover? The thought echoed in her mind, stirring up the long lost puppy love buried deep in her heart. It has been years, they both came of age, ready for marriage by the laws. She wasn’t that little girl anymore who admired the prince’s light moles on his cheeks or that he seemed to know the answers for all her questions. Yet, she still caught herself staring at Yoongi’s sharp jaw, the chocolate of his eyes and his beautiful pianist fingers. She was still in awe whenever he talked in such a polite and clear tone, his intelligence shining. She has heard he excelled in all his classes, that he could speak multiple languages and he never lost in chess. However, it was his gentle touch and soft gaze that made her even more enamoured.

She was in love with her fiancé, wasn’t it the best thing? Yeah, it should have been. But in Yoongi’s eyes, she was nothing more but an old playmate, he didn’t even see her as a woman (like that, he said). So wasn’t it the worst thing after all?

She snaps out of it as her teeth chatter in the icy cold weather that’s creeping under her skin. She has way passed the cursed land’s edge, she’s vulnerably on her own with snow in her dark hair and tears in her eyes. She doesn't need a map, nor a knight to accompany her any further. She is drawn by a heart that doesn’t even know it’s calling for hers.

The astonishing sight of the ice palace takes her breathe away. It’s glorious, parading in the colours of winter: blue walls and white hoarfrosts. Beautiful in a deadly way with its cutting sharp towers and icicles hanging down from everywhere. It isn’t as dark as they said in the rumours but it gives off an intimidating atmosphere, an eerie feeling piercing through flesh right up to the bone marrow, threatening to rip her apart.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A raspy voice declares, tone raw and cold, body made of smoke, hiding in the shadows. But the princess doesn’t need to see him to know it’s him. She would recognize his voice out of thousands with her eyes closed.

“Yoongi!” she cries out, relieved. When it’s just the two of them, there’s no need to call each other so formally and in blind happiness, she enjoys the way the syllables of his name leave her mouth as she rushes to him, towards the source of his voice.

There’s snow and ice everywhere she looks, but no living creature comes her way, not a single soul. She’s turning around, walking up and down, not giving up, not even when she starts to think she has been hallucinating.

“Go away!” the voice speaks again, this time, much closer. When she turns, suddenly she’s facing with a boy looking eternally young: eyes as pale as the sky during snowfall and hair so silverish blonde as the full moon in all its glory. For a fleeting moment, she doesn’t recognize him and when she does, it leaves her stunned.

“Yoo… Yoongi, oh gods, what happened to you? Are you alright?” she asks in concern, fingers gently caressing his colourless face. He looks like a flawless statue and even feels as cold as marble. She can only be sure that he’s alive because his lips, the lightest shade of pink, are moving when he speaks:

“Leave, this is my last warning,” he speaks so rigidly as if she was merely a stranger, a burden. The passion once burning in his dark irises is gone by now, replaced by dull emptiness masking his striking features.

“Do... don’t you know who I am?” the princess stammers, caught off guard and wonders if he hit his head.

“I have no idea who you are and I absolutely don't care. It has always been me and my Queen,” Yoongi answers with a wintry smile while shoving away her hand. His words burn like holding ice or looking into his fierce eyes for too long.

The princess has heard of the Queen, the ruler of this unforgiving wasteland. People seemed to fear her and her power, a magic unknown to mankind. A witch, an abomination, a monster, they whispered about her in the dark.

“Yoongi, we are engaged, please… Oh that hurts,” the girl hisses in pain when the prince grabs her wrist and yanks her closer harshly. His mouth is brushing against her right ear softly as he growls Don’t lie to me! and his grip on her is stronger than ever. She trembles.

The princess gets drunk on his sudden closeness, the way he pulls her into his aura like he never did before. Yoongi, a good friend, always so respectful of boundaries never held her like this no matter how much she wanted him to do.

“Yoongi, please! Don’t you remember? You are the Crown Prince of Daegumor. We need to go home,” she tries to talk some sense into him, holding on her belief that he isn’t a hopeless case, that the witch that the villagers are muttering about hasn’t poisoned his mind too much. It doesn't seem to be working when he steps back and pushes her away.

“This is where I should be, nowhere else.”

She stumbles backwards but catches a hold of herself just in time. He’s only confused, she tells herself. A white lie that she wishes to believe.

“Please come with me… I won’t go without you. Come back to me,” she pleads as she takes his face into her hands and mistakenly thinks - she dares to hope - that he's leaning into her touch for a moment.

“I warned you,” the prince grits his teeth, sounding cruel and weaves his hands roughly around her thin neck. His fiancée gasps for air desperately while begging for mercy with her huge, sad doe eyes.

He will kill me, she thinks briefly and it almost feels like salvation if she can't have him anyway.

“Please… I love you,” she cries with the last ounce of energy she has, salty tears streaming down on her pale face onto his tightening grip of hands.

A world stops for an eternal moment and Yoongi lets her go abruptly. He blinks dumbfounded as if he woke up from a nightmare, chest heavy. He looks at his hands in disgust then at his fiancée who is busy with catching her breath so desperately. What has he done?

He can't believe he got so lucky. A girl so blindingly beautiful like her loves him. Truly, with that gold heart of hers, because that’s the only way to break the curse. She saved him when his corrupted heart almost killed the one he loves the most. Oh because he does love her. So much! Even if it's selfish of him and even if he doesn't deserve such a bright soul.

Despite pushing her away, acting distant and formal, he has always loved her in the most innocent ways: dreaming of holding her hand and kissing her cheek. But meeting so many years later, after their engagement, a raw kind of hunger threatened to consume him in whole: the urgent need to devour her and to worship every inch of her body at the same time. No matter how apathetic he acted, his blood boiled every single time she accidentally touched him. He swore to himself he would protect her from everything but in the end, it's him who hurt her the most.

“Y/N...” he whispers her name, so lovely on his tongue, all over again like a mantra burying his face into her neck, tears spilling onto her snow coated dress. She soothe him with sweet words and lulling caresses on his back, telling him it's okay because she has always known: being cold doesn't mean you can't have a warm heart.

The Snow Queen is watching the future King and Queen of Daegumor leave her land. She doesn’t stop them, why would she? There will always be clueless princes coming to her to ease the loneliness she's sentenced to. They don't call her kingdom cursed for nothing, she thinks bitterly, turning her back on them.

The snow continues to fall. Endlessly like tears.

[peetabreadgirl]

Writer’s Block 4.3

I got an ask for SSS for Writer’s Block. @jennagill Since I’m only updating in 2000 words chunks (less here) I thought I’d just post what I have so far. Hope you like it and it makes your Peeta Sunday a little better. Mistakes are most definitely mine. Find the first three parts here. <3 you all! Pbg

Peeta hasn’t held my hand since he lead me to his Jeep from my room. Is it wrong to feel disappointed? I don’t know what the proper protocol is for a date, other than what he’s told me for our story. I wrote all of it down, obviously so I could write the scene correctly, but as we walk the too-long hallway I wonder if I should use it that information in real life.

 We’re standing in front of my door, Peeta leaning against the frame watching me struggle with getting the key to turn in the lock when I decide to go for it.

 “You want to come in?” I ask less boldly than it sounded in my head. My nerves get the better of me and I can’t make myself look at him. I’m grateful the key seems to be stuck so I can focus my nervous energy jiggling it about in hopes that it catches and lets me in, and all the while his words about taking things slowly taunt me. Who am I kidding? I’m out of my league here. Why did I ask him in? Ugh. Maybe the door will open into some alternate universe and swallow me and my embarrassment whole.

I’m about to kick the door in frustration when Peeta’s hand closes around mine and I still instantly.

 “Allow me,” he says, removing my hands from the knob gently. The door clicks open with one turn of the key, but neither of us goes in. He still hasn’t answered me and I’m about to tell him nevermind, that I’m tired, but he puts his hand on my back and ushers me across the threshold and follows me in, closing the door behind him.

 I turn, wrapping one arm around my middle as I latch onto the opposite elbow. I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. I may as well have metal headgear and a face full of acne for the way I’m acting.

 Thankfully, I remember the next step of the scene Peeta described where Julia would offer Adam a beer, which I just so happen to have picked up from the store on my way home. It was the cheapest I could find and it still cost me everything in my wallet.

 “Would you like a beer?” God I’m so obvious. I may as well just write ‘make out with me please’ across my forehead. If he catches on to what I’m doing he doesn’t show it, though.

 “Sure,” he answers, thankfully giving me something to do besides stand in front of him like a gangly teen. I cross the room in four strides and pull two bottles from my ancient mini fridge.

 “Thank you,” he says as he takes one from me. He pops the lid and hands it back to me, reaching for the other when I take it. He opens that one and brings it to his lips. “Should we sit?” he nods at the bed. Couch?

 I take a long pull of my beer and decide I want it to be less of a couch and more of a bed. I nod and get comfortable. Peeta follows, leaving a small space between us.

 “Thank you for tonight,” I say after another drink. My eyes meet his and I bite my lip to keep me afloat in the midst of his sea blue stare.

 “Was your first official date all that you hoped for?” he questions with a smirk, but I see the doubt in his eyes. I would have missed it a few weeks ago. Thought he was mocking me and thrown back some snarky reply. But I know better now. The Peeta I've become fond of is kind, smart. His confidence is real, but so is his uncertainty. After all the achievements he’s managed in his young life, he’s still not sure he’ll be accepted.

 I accept you, Peeta. I hope he can feel my thoughts, because I haven’t had enough beer to say it out loud. Instead, i answer his question honestly.

 “It was,” I admit as I roll over the evening in my mind. The restaurant was quaint, with a kind of understated elegance. We sat in a tiny booth in a corner, smooshed together like romantic lovers in a black and white movie. From shoulder to ankle we were deliciously inseparable while the light above our heads flickered occasionally, giving the impression that it might go out and plunge us into welcomed darkness. I won’t lie and say I didn’t imagine what I would do if that happened.

 Peeta sets our empty beers on the nightstand, then threads his fingers through mine. Our palms are cool and damp from holding the beer.

 “Any ideas for what we can do now?” I ask as he shifts towards me. The alcohol has loosened me up conversationally.

 “Plenty,” he replies. My throat dries up at the huskiness of his voice. I need another drink. Water this time. Who knows what else I might say with another beer in me. “But I have to get going.” Either my heart or my lady parts are very disappointed. I have too little experience with both of those pieces of me to know which it is.

 “You have to go?” No. It’s my heart. Something inside me is beginning to tear at his rejection. It’s not often I put myself out there. I thought I could read him. Damn that beer!

 He nods, leaning into me, pausing just before his lips touch mine.

 “Why?” I ask softly. I can smell the beer on his breath. I bet it tastes amazing on him. I’m about to close this menacing space between us and find out when he moves his lips to my jaw, pressing the slightest of kisses to the flesh there. His mouth is cool on my warming skin.

 Please don’t pull away.

 “Because I told you we would go slow. And if I don’t go now, I don’t think I can keep my promise.”

 I shiver at his confession as he pulls away. His countenance betrays every thread of composure he’s hanging on to. Dark eyes, tense jaw, chest rising faster than normal. According to my research, if I look down I’m liable to see a bulge from his… engorged…

 He stands up, facing away from me. And thank god because I’m not sure I would have been able to keep my eyes from his groin. He grabs the beers and tosses them into the small trash can, then heads for the door, stopping to look back at me after he opens it.

 “I’ll call you tomorrow?” he says it as if I’m going to tell him no. He has no idea I’m two seconds away from dragging him back to the bed and ordering that he kiss me senseless and stay with me again. I nod, not trusting myself with words.

 He flashes me a gorgeous smile and then disappears. I fall back on the bed and let out a deep breath, wondering what I’m supposed to do now. I’m too wound up for sleep. Maybe another beer will help, and since Peeta’s not here it’s safe to assume I won’t make any stupid statements.

 I open another beer and I’m halfway through it when I hear ringing. It’s a phone. On my desk.

 I walk to it and see the number for ‘home’ flashing across the screen. Peeta must have left his cell phone. I wonder if the home it’s referring to is his or his mother’s. I shudder at the thought of hearing her hateful voice on the other end. I’ve never heard it before, but I imagine it sounds similar in tone to Ursula the Sea Witch. I let it go to voicemail, but it starts to ring again. What if it’s his father? Maybe I should answer in case there’s some sort of emergency. If they keep calling they might think he’s dead, and it would be awfully rude of me to let them worry like that.

 Before I can answer, though, the call ends. But it begins again almost immediately.

 “Hello?” I answer hesitantly after putting it to my ear.

 “I thought you’d never answer.”

 “Peeta?” I feel foolish for answering his phone now. Like I’ve somehow invaded his privacy.

 “Were you expecting someone else?”

 “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I thought you left your phone and your parents were trying to contact you, and it wouldn’t stop ring-”

 “I left it on purpose.”

 “On purpose?”

 “I wanted to talk to you,” he says easily.

 “Didn’t get your fill of me yet?” Shit. I forgot about the second beer. I know exactly how that sounds now that I’ve read a few love stories. 

A deep, throaty laugh reaches me through the speaker. “I haven’t even gotten close to having my fill of you, Katniss.”

 I flop down on my bed, my body too heavy for my legs between the alcohol and the heady effect his words are having on me.  

 “You got home safe, I guess?” I change the subject because I have no idea how to respond to his last statement. I grab onto my braid and fiddle with it for something to do with my hands.

 “Yeah. I, uh, just wanted to say goodnight.”

 I’m glad he can’t see my goofy smile. My fingers brush my left nipple when they reach the end of my braid, sending a electrifying burst through my body, right between my legs. “Oh,” I say on a sharply drawn breath.

 “Is… that alright?” he asks uncertainly.

 “Y-yeah. Yes, of course.” He lets out an audible breath and the sound seems to have the same effect on me as my hands brushing my breast. I test my reaction again to my own hand and bite my lip as another jolt of pleasure rockets through me.

 “Okay. Good to know. Sleep well, okay?” his voice is low and husky, sending little tremors to my lady parts. His voice probably sounds that way because he’s tired, and I am anything but.

 After we disconnect, I pinch my nipple, then let my hand follow the same path down my body.