#a show I clutch to my bosom with ferocity

[mloreley]

Please I am begging you go OFF about CxG

Do you know what you're asking?

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is one of the best representations of mental health on television I've ever seen. It doesn't shy away from difficult, or even obscenely troubled subjects, and the discussion in the show ends up in a healthier place than I think most comedies ever really go.

The show is a musical, which is an automatic plus in my book. And in fact, the context for WHY it's a musical is something that hits me right in my daydreaming baby heart; someone coping with real life stress by using daydreaming and music to work through something in their head. And it's not just a conceit for the premise, either! There's literally a plot reason for it!

This is a show that revolves around the relationships the main character has with the people around her; romantic, familial, friendship, and more. It surrounds her with so many different kinds of love, and explicitly calls it love. Whether she's able to recognize it as love is a different question, but then, it's always harder to see the love in our lives when we've been trained into believing we don't deserve it.

More (and spoilers) under the cut.

The show is about a woman with severe trauma and a long-standing mental health struggle finding and falling in love with herself. While the show does a lot of framing around the romantic relationships in her life, it's because she only considers love to be real when it's from a partner- someone who chooses to be with you, as opposed to family (for whom it should be 'the bare minimum', in her mind, even though she's still desperately seeking that, too).

She acts horribly for three seasons. If you've never fought with the demons implanted from severe neglect, abuse, and trauma, her actions make her unsympathetic; they make her "The Villain In [Her] Own Story", and she's just smart enough to be able to talk and charm her way out of consequences for a good chunk of it. Of course, those are skills she learned trying to appease her never-appeaseable mother, whose horrific treatment of her daughter forced her to overcompensate with placating, charming, ego-stroking, approval-seeking behavior.

And as someone who has struggled with my mental health my entire life, as someone whose behavior has sometimes been out of line, and as someone who has had to do a lot of self-reflection, I see every bad decision she makes and I ache for her to be better. Because while I was never as bad as her, I feel the same thought patterns, I see the lines she sees where others only see irrational, over the top awful behavior.

I could talk about the scene where she's shown all of her new friends and found family in West Covina mourning her disappearance in the first season, how it makes me cry because I've had to learn how to recognize that in the people around me. Not just in a "they'll miss me if I'm gone" sense, but just recognizing that you can touch people's lives in ways you can't see, in ways they may not always know you've affected.

Or maybe the scene where, cornered, triggered, panicked, and deeply hurt, convinced that she's already lost all of her friends and loved ones, she lashes out with the harshest things she can say to everyone in her life. I know why she does it; she's hurting, and she wants to be the one to 'cut the ties' before they do it to her. I understand that though process so clearly. But every venomous word she shoots at them, it's a wound in her heart just as much as it is the people who care for her. I know, because I've been there.

There's the scene after she hits her lowest point, where she no longer believes that anyone loves her, where she realizes she has no life either where she grew up or where she moved to and doesn't want to be in either place, where she hurts so much that the only option she sees to escape it is to take her own life. I can't even think of that scene without a sharp intake of breath and tears coming to my eyes, because it's so viscerally real. The moment she looks out the window, taking in the serenity of a blue sky with gorgeous white clouds, communicating the strange peace you feel when you've finally decided to 'go through with it', GOD it's so fucking real. It's a detail that I don't see included in most shows depicting a suicide attempt, and it tells me that the showrunners are speaking from experience.

And that immediately after setting that in motion, she finds hope at the very last second. That she seeks help because she has finally found that last grain of hope in her. It's executed so well. (Hey, I'm literally crying while writing this; it has a tremendous emotional impact for me).

The moments in therapy where she expresses terror over trying to find a relationship after the last serious one she had ended with a suicide attempt, and is scared knowing that it's a place she can go, or when she doubts going on medication because her last prescription numbed her out instead of addressing the problem, those are so. fucking. real. Real concerns born only out of having been through the process of finally seeking help and becoming afraid of 'going back'.

Or the last fucking episode of the show, where she discovers the most important relationship in her life; one with herself. Where the entire context of her imagining musical numbers to work through things comes back around; it turns out that composing music and writing songs is a skill? And one she never got the chance to explore because her mother denied her every opportunity in order to mold her into "The Perfect Daughter"?

Her relationship with Paula is the second most relationship in the show; they both change each other for the better, even as they sometimes bring out the worst in each other. The level of trust they build, and the genuine love they share for each other, is so healing for both of them. It's fitting that Paula is the one to eventually point out what Rebecca couldn't see; that she was actually really amazing, and not for what anyone else taught her to do, but just for who she always was.

The show does an excellent job of showing deeply flawed, real people who make mistakes, and learn and grow from them. It's a rare show where "everyone is happy in the end" doesn't feel contrived, because they've all earned where they end up.

I think I'm momentarily Crazy Ex-Girlfriended out at the moment, and this is still only scraping the tip of the iceberg and mostly in how much I personally relate to the main character (enough that I've actually begun looking into a similar diagnosis for the stuff I'm going through), but I hope you appreciate my going off on it a bit. XD Thank you for the invitation to do so.

[butterflies-dragons]

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." This is the very first line of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy and GRRM is very aware of these words; so far he has mentioned it in reference of Sansa Stark and Jon Snow:

Arya was one of the first characters created. Sansa came about as a total opposite b/c too many of the Stark family members were getting along and families aren’t like that. Thus, Sansa was created; he ended by saying they have deep issues to work out. [Source]

An interesting question was “Why are there so many sons who are unloved by their fathers, like Sam, Jon, Tyrion and Theon?” I watched George’s reaction carefully (I was sitting close to him) and he did not take issue with the assumption that Jon Snow is part of the “unloved sons” (obviously the dynamic talked about is Jon/Eddard, not Rhaegar). He nodded at the question and said that he does not have the full quote with him, but the great Russian writer Tolstoy once said that happy families are boring  - this was followed by a big round of applause cause every Russian knows this quote very well (the quote by Tolstoy is: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. [Source]

And recently I found another similarity with Tolstoy's work and Sansa.

In spite of the obvious differences, Sansa Stark, the betrothed of the Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon, showing her evident crush and concern about Ser Loras Tyrell's safety during the Hand's Tourney, reminds me of Anna Karenina making evident her illicit affair with Count Vronsky in front of everyone, her husband Alexey Alexandrovitch Karenin included, during the races:

She flew over the ditch as though not noticing it. She flew over it like a bird; but at the same instant Vronsky, to his horror, felt that he had failed to keep up with the mare’s pace, that he had, he did not know how, made a fearful, unpardonable mistake, in recovering his seat in the saddle. All at once his position had shifted and he knew that something awful had happened. He could not yet make out what had happened, when the white legs of a chestnut horse flashed by close to him, and Mahotin passed at a swift gallop. Vronsky was touching the ground with one foot, and his mare was sinking on that foot. He just had time to free his leg when she fell on one side, gasping painfully, and, making vain efforts to rise with her delicate, soaking neck, she fluttered on the ground at his feet like a shot bird. The clumsy movement made by Vronsky had broken her back. But that he only knew much later. At that moment he knew only that Mahotin had flown swiftly by, while he stood staggering alone on the muddy, motionless ground, and Frou-Frou lay gasping before him, bending her head back and gazing at him with her exquisite eyes. Still unable to realize what had happened, Vronsky tugged at his mare’s reins. Again she struggled all over like a fish, and her shoulders setting the saddle heaving, she rose on her front legs but unable to lift her back, she quivered all over and again fell on her side. With a face hideous with passion, his lower jaw trembling, and his cheeks white, Vronsky kicked her with his heel in the stomach and again fell to tugging at the rein. She did not stir, but thrusting her nose into the ground, she simply gazed at her master with her speaking eyes.

“A—a—a!” groaned Vronsky, clutching at his head. “Ah! what have I done!” he cried. “The race lost! And my fault! shameful, unpardonable! And the poor darling, ruined mare! Ah! what have I done!”

—Anna Karenina, Part Two, Chapter 25 - Leo Tolstoy

Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered—“The lions and gladiators will be the next thing,” and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna’s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy.

“Let us go, let us go!” she said.

But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her.

Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm.

“Let us go, if you like,” he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband.

“He’s broken his leg too, so they say,” the general was saying. “This is beyond everything.”

Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening.

“Stiva! Stiva!” she cried to her brother.

But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away.

“Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going,” said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand.

She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered:

“No, no, let me be, I’ll stay.”

She saw now that from the place of Vronsky’s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back.

On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself.

“For the third time I offer you my arm,” he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue.

“No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home,” put in Betsy.

“Excuse me, princess,” he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, “but I see that Anna’s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me.”

Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband’s arm.

“I’ll send to him and find out, and let you know,” Betsy whispered to her.

—Anna Karenina, Part Two, Chapter 29 - Leo Tolstoy

* * *

When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa’s fervent whisper, “Oh, he’s so beautiful.” Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy’s shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.

“His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. Ser Gregor’s huge stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Sansa clutched at his arm. “Father, don’t let Ser Gregor hurt him,” she said. Ned saw she was wearing the rose that Ser Loras had given her yesterday. Jory had told him about that as well.

“These are tourney lances,” he told his daughter. “They make them to splinter on impact, so no one is hurt.” Yet he remembered the dead boy in the cart with his cloak of crescent moons, and the words were raw in his throat.

(...) Gregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal’s neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. “Stop him!” Ned shouted, but his words were lost in the roar. Everyone else was yelling as well, and Sansa was crying.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII

This similarity could be nothing of course, but I can't help myself finding Sansa in everything I read, like it happened with Eugénie Grandet by Honoré de Balzac.

Also Count Vronsky's mare Frou-Frou, somehow reminds me of Lady.

[daebakinc]

We Make the Kingdom - Pt 16(M)

Image by silverdagger865 Pairing: Yongguk x OC Genre: Fantasy, with Angst and Smut Summary:  After a vampire attack leaves you almost dead, you are rescued by a group of werelions, powers long thought to be extinct. Upon discovering the same magic flows in your blood, you join their fight against encroaching vampires and another, very human monster, to save the kingdom. A/N: I’m really sorry this a week late. Like I said, Lamia made a surprise appearance and threw a monkey wrench in things. Sorry again for the delay! Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ,  8, 9(M), 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16(M), 17, 18,  Final

Dead grass crumples into tiny clouds of dust the instant you step on it. The entire plain is empty and lifeless as if ravaged by an immense fire. Iron gray clouds dominate the sky, stretching from horizon to horizon with no promise of rain, and make it impossible to tell if it is day or night. The darkness is the same. Unease creeps through your limbs at the sudden feeling of unseen eyes stalking you.

Trying to find your bearings, you scan the scenery for any recognizable landmark. Mountains rise harsh and ominous behind you. Opposite them is a solitary walled city surrounded by dozens of small mounds. The Capitol. Not a single torch burns along its parapets to guard against the encroaching dark.

Something is wrong.

Shifting into a lioness, you set off at a dead lope, long legs devouring the ground. As you come closer, dread grows in the pit of your stomach. The city walls that appeared whole and strong from a distance are pitted and crumbling with neglect and destruction. Some sections have been tumbled down to no higher than your shoulder. Half of the great iron gate lies propped against the wall. The other half still hangs on its hinges, an enormous hole ripped through its center as if a rabid monster burrowed into the city.

When you pass the first set of hills before the city, a smell so nauseous hits your nose that it causes you stumble over your feet as you skid to a halt. Rotting flesh permeates the air so you cannot breathe without it coating your tongue. Gagging, you paw at your snout, trying to cover it.

You open your mouth to pant, but nothing can take the bitter tang from your mouth. Resigned, you breathe as shallowly as possible and cautiously pad closer to one of the mounds. Carrion birds scatter at your approach and loudly scold you for interrupting their meal.

You finally see what you could not from afar. The hills are piles of bodies, bones bleached from exposure to the elements except for bits of flesh on which the birds were feasting. A scrap of clothing near the bottom, fluttering like a pitiful flag, catches your eye. You carefully tug it free, flinching when a bone snaps.

You drop the cloth to the ground to peer down at it. Smudged by smoke, the symbol on the fabric is at first hard to make out, but when you do, you jerk away from the cloth. A tattered royal dragon stares back at you, tragically noble in its ruin.

From behind you comes a voice your nightmares know too well. “Do you see now, my child? This is what awaits those who defy me. It is hopeless.”

You spin around, lips pulled back in a warning growl. Lamia stands a few paces away, watching. She is as cruelly beautiful as before. A dress of intricate black lace only emphasizes her deathly paleness. The edges of her form swirl and flicker like smoke in the wind. Just as she looked when she appeared in the palace.

This is a dream, you realize. Somehow, she has invaded the sanctity of your mind. She is toying with you, this demon. Wrath boils in your chest, fed by your hatred of the creature in front of you.

Nonplussed, Lamia smiles and folds her arms under her bosom. “I see you have mastered your powers since last we met. It will do you no good.”

You growl again and spring at her. Your attack forces her out of range, a satisfying flash of surprise crossing her face. Shifting back to human, you reply, “I have learned much, Lamia. Enough to know you and your kind must be stopped at the whatever cost. We will do so if each of us must lay down our lives, but you will be defeated.”

Lamia’s smile deepens, her tone condescending. “You believe just because you captured a series of pawns, your victory is guaranteed? You are nothing. You know nothing. You have fought my vanguards, but they were weak, meant to test the weres. The only thing you proved was that I needed stronger soldiers. Now, I have them. My forces will emerge from the earth and cover this land in my darkness. You and the other beasts will finally be swept away like fallen leaves in the wake of my glory.”

As you stare back into her haughty gaze, you catch a glimpse of something your animal side immediately identifies. At first, you think it is impossible, that you are mistaken, but then you sense it again. Fear. You suddenly understand her game.

Returning her smile, you ask, “If you are so certain of our defeat, why show me this? Why try to sow seeds of doubt and despair if you do not fear our alliance? You, Lamia, most ancient queen of night rats, are afraid.”

If her heart still pumped, it would thrust all of her blood to her face in fury. “How dare you!” she screeches, losing her composure. “You will pay for your impertinence.”

“I am sure I will,” you shrug, “but not before I see you beheaded, staked, and burned until your ashes are insignificant particles. You will pay for everything you took from me and all the pain you’ve inflicted on my friends.”

“Do not think you can beat me. Do you believe removing the king beyond my reach is a coup?” Lamia sneers. Moving in a blur, she is abruptly in front of you, her fingers gripping your chin. The tips of her nails stab into your cheeks. She leans close, her fangs are a breath from your lips. She smells like a corpse. “He is like any other human: disposable. I do not know what you and the other half-breeds are planning but it will not succeed. This kingdom was promised to me long before your ancestors’ ancestors were born, and it will be mine, even if I have to raze this city to the ground.”

Your smile hardens, and you rashly provoke her further. “Oh, Lamia, for all your years, you obviously do not understand humans at all.”

“What do you mean?” she hisses. Her grip tightens.

“Above all else, humans hold our freedom most high and our love for each other most dear. Threaten both, and we will fight with such ferocity and tenacity, more than you ever imagined in your worst nightmares,” you answer proudly. You let your arms fall to your sides.

“I do not sleep,” Lamia whispers. “I have no nightmares. I only create them.”

“Then I think it is time for this one to end.”

Reaching your hand across your hip, you rip your dagger from its sheath and slash. Lamia’s hand that held your face drops to the ground. Lamia falters back, howling in a rage that wrings her features into horrid ugliness. Her fangs grow longer, her eyes redder. She launches herself at you as you shift to meet her again.

Pain tearing across your throat and Yongguk’s roar jerks you upright. The slippery silk crushed between your fingers reminds you where you are as you open your eyes. A hint of dampness and blood hang on the air, blown in by the frigid wind that snuck through the cracked window. It was closed when you went to bed.

Yongguk stands on all fours with claws extended and a loud warning growl still rumbling from his mouth. His head frantically swings back and forth to find the danger, muscles tensed to strike and the fur along his back standing on end.

You slide to the edge of the bed with the blanket still clutched in your hands and heart still hammering in your chest. “Yongguk.”

He turns so quickly, the wood beneath his claws squeals. Some of the tautness leaves his body at the sight of you, but the franticness remains in his eyes. Yongguk’s head rams into your chest as his nose passes over your skin, searching.

“I am alright, Yongguk,” you murmur. You sink your fingers into his mane, both for his comfort and your own. The bravado you presented Lamia was not as complete as you thought.

Human hands clutch at your shoulders as he shifts and kneels in front of you. Stony faced, Yongguk pushes your chin up. You flinch as his fingers graze over five long scratches along your throat.  

“What happened?” Yongguk asks. One hand comes to your cheek, only to pause again. He presses a spot and you jerk your head back at the sudden burst of pain. “How-”

“Lamia was in my dream,” you state simply. Reluctantly, you let Yongguk ease your face this way and that to examine Lamia’s marks. “She showed me the Capitol destroyed, our army reduced to rotting piles of bones. She knows we took the king. She wanted to frighten me. Us.”

“She succeeded in that,” he says quietly before catching you up in his arms. A shudder runs through his body. “I heard someone scream and I thought it was you, but then I woke up and smelled vampire.”

You grip him just as tightly. “It may have been her screaming. I cut off her hand.”

Despite himself, Yongguk laughs. “Only you, Ness.”

“I did not like her touching me.”

The seriousness returns to his face as he pulls back and eyes your throat again. “Nor do I. It cannot happen again.”

“What’s wrong?” Himchan pants as the other lions spill into the room behind him in various states of undress.

Their eyes scan the room for danger with the same intensity Yongguk did. Jongup moves to close the window with dagger in hand, but not before giving the garden beyond a thorough look over. You feel some relief that their sleep was obviously not ambushed in the same way.

“You are unharmed?” Daehyun asks, glancing between you. He too obtained a knife at some point.

Youngjae immediately spots the raised scratches on your skin with alarm. “Ness!” He rushes over, and Yongguk moves aside so he can better examine your neck.

Yongguk stands to face the others. The only word he says is “Lamia.”

They erupt into questions, but Yongguk is looking past them all. Your ears pick up more people running towards your room. The other weres from their scent, no doubt summoned by Yongguk’s roar. However, they are not what Yongguk is focusing on. You glimpse the maid who showed you to the room cowering by the doorway.

Yongguk steps around Junhong and says to her, “Tell Her Highness we need to meet with her. Now.”

 Newborn sunlight coming through the windows is too feeble to illuminate the modest room a servant ushers you into not even an hour later, but someone has already lit the large chandelier and the great hearth at the far end. An enormous round table stands in the center of the stone floor, bare. Three servants are busy erecting another, longer one beside the fireplace.

Hyosung looks no worse for the early hour as she turns her head towards you at your entry. As you approach, you can barely discern the light purple below her eyes that is skillfully covered by powder. She stands from the tall-backed chair and accepts your bows with a nod of her head.

“I take it the enemy has discovered all is not as she left it,” Hyosung says as you all rise.

Yongguk nods. “Lamia appears to have powers we were not aware of. She invaded Ness’ dreams with the intention of delivering a message of utter annihilation should we resist, that is my conclusion. She is aware the king has been deposed. Aside from this, she appears blind to our actions.”

“The king trusted no one to spy for him on her behalf that I have found. We must pray our luck holds in that, but one should never underestimate an enemy.” Hyosung indulges in a small sigh. She gestures to the table. “I was going to call the council at a more reasonable hour as some members arrived late last night, but when I awoke to a lion’s roar, I knew we did not have that luxury. We will have to repeat much of what we told the State Council, but then we will begin to plan our defense. They should be arriving soon.”

As if summoned, a servant announces Lady Kim just before she sweeps through the door. Not a hair or fold dares be out of place. She bows as well and, with a glance at you all, says, “Your Highness, I do not think there is a person in the city who did not jolt awake in alarm at that thunderous roar this morning. They will not tarry.”

True to Lady Kim’s words, the room steadily fills with people after her entrance. Servants circulate the room with food and tea, but you can only nibble as you observe the newcomers from your corner with the other weres; a pair of priestesses and a priest with jade robes and the gold lily pendant of the Goddess, a dozen charcoal-clad scholars, their fingers stained black and scored with thin cuts, a small man wearing the ruby robes and signet ring of a governor speaks quietly with Lady Kim.

The last to arrive are four men and women whose rigid shoulders and proud gazes trumpet their profession. Even if they did not wear plated armor over their clothes, you would recognize them as soldiers. The oldest man, his black beard trimmed short and speckled with salt, face weathered by time, wears the black tunic of a general. He takes in the room as if surveying troops, his gaze settling on your cluster, the only ones obviously out of place despite your new clothes. His hand readjusts his grip on his sword pommel, but he says nothing.

The princess gives everyone a few more moments to settle before standing. A hush instantly falls over the room.

“Greetings, esteemed advisors and custodians of the realm,” she says. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

The governor does not waste time with niceties, stepping forward to say, “Your message said we must address a fast-approaching threat on the city. Our spies have reported no movements beyond our borders, and certainly we would have refugees flooding into the city should our enemies have invaded.”

“You are correct, Governor Yoo,” Hyosung acknowledges. “I apologize for such an ambiguous message, but I did not want the true peril we face to be read by eyes other than yours and spread panic among the people. Because, ladies and gentlemen, the threat does not come from any of our neighbors. It comes from an enemy long thought to be vanquished, one none dreamed we would have to face again: vampires.”

Everyone instantly begins murmuring among themselves, but one scholar raises his hand. “Your Highness, with all due respect, vampires were eliminated thousands of years ago by the weres. Any trace of the method to create them was also destroyed by Queen Myeongseong. The High Priestess would have detected such a release of black magic should someone have attempted similar magic.” He glances towards one of the priestesses, who nods.

“You are correct, Master Scholar, but these vampires have not reemerged by magic. One of the original vampires survived and has now chosen to come forth. She claims to be their creator’s consort, Lamia.”

Some of the scholars exchange shocked glances, but now one of the officers calls out, “Where is the king? If all this is true, why is he not delivering such news himself?”

Lady Kim saves the princess from replying. “Because the king was in collusion with the vampires. This Lamia stole his mind and turned him against his own people, who he agreed to sell into their doom for the promise of eternal rule. Princess Hyosung came before the State Council and presented evidence and testimony to prove so beyond a doubt. The king did not aid himself when both he and a follower attempted to murder the princess and myself. We of State Council approved his dethronement and the princess’ appointment as temporary regent. The king will receive a public trial to pay for his treason, but only if we live past tomorrow.”

“Whose testimony?” another officer asked.

“Ours.” Yongguk strides forward. He spreads his hands to include the rest of you behind him. “The king kidnapped, tortured, and forced us to become soldiers to fight the vampires because we are descendants of the weres and inherited their abilities. We are witnesses to both the king’s treachery and the return of the vampires.”

Despite having undergone the same examination yesterday, the sudden scrutiny still makes your skin crawl.

“Weres.” Everyone looks to the general. His sharp eyes are discerning and not entirely convinced. “The scourge of the blood demons whose powers died with the vampires. Such a reappearance of warriors of old would support these claims. If they truly are weres.”

Hot impatience rushes through your head. To have your validity continually questioned is wasting precious time. Evil is coming, whether these people would have it or not.

“There is no time to dance through polite words to convince you,” you burst out. Before Yongguk or Hyosung can speak, you push forward and point at your neck. “Lamia herself gave me these only a few hours ago by slipping into my dreams. If that is not enough, will you believe an even more physical example?

The officers’ hands fly to their swords as you stride towards the general. When you are only a few steps away, you shift, halting just before him with a growl.

The general does not flinch, meeting you eye for eye, but one officer starts to draw his weapon.

“Swords away, soldier,” Lady Kim says, rendering it melded to its scabbard. “She will not harm General Choi.”

You do not look away from the man in front of you. The room is deathly silent as you examine each other. As quickly as it rose, your temper fades away, leaving only your resolve. Even if you must transform a hundred times, they will believe you.

The man’s gaze slowly changes from suspicion to the beginnings of respect. Just Lady Kim did, he lifts his hand and waits.

“It’s an illusion,” a scholar says, but the waver in her voice renders her statement a question.

Lady Kim retorts, “No one in this room is capable of illusion casting.”

You angle yourself, so the general can reach up to touch your shoulder. His hand rests there lightly, then tentatively strokes your fur. The feeling isn’t unpleasant, and you allow your muscles to ease a little.

“You are no illusion,” he whispers. To your surprise, a small smile appears on his mouth. “My grandfather told me stories of the weres, their strength and magnificence. The tales do not even come close, Mistress Were.”

When the general lowers his hand, you shift back and reply, “It is simply Ness, sir.”

“Does anyone need more proof of our situation?” the princess asks.

Several people shake their heads while others answer with their silence as you rejoin the weres.

“Good. Then we may begin after brief introductions.”

At her gesture, a servant runs to the main table and with the help of another, unfolds a large map of the Capitol and the territory surrounding it. Hyosung begins listing names and titles, but you are only half listening. You lean over the table, attention on the map.

The walls of the Capitol are thick and tall, well designed to repel an assailing army with cannon and siege towers. If the supplies were there, the city could long outwait an enemy before being relieved by reinforcements. But you do not doubt a vampire could scale the towering stones with ease and then months of provisions would be useless.

The lands immediately outside are flat like your dream, plains that stretch to the horizon of the mountains. There are no trees or rock formations to provide shadows for vampires to use. Soldiers will also be accustomed to fighting on this kind of terrain. But they are also used to foes like them, humans with normal reflexes armed only with sword, arrow, and pike.

The princess’ voice breaks through your examination. “General Choi, how many soldiers do we have available?”

The general is also inspecting the map with a guarded face. His officers look equally grim. He glances up at Hyosung. “With no time to gather our usual conscripts or summon the navy, we must rely on our capitol division. They consist of cavalry, archers, and foot soldiers, but, Your Highness, they number no more than 7,000 at the most. Do we know the size of the vampires’ force?”

Junmyeon edges to the side of the table. “May I, princess?” At her nod, he answers, “Before this, vampires never traveled in clans more than three or four if not alone. Then they increased to clans of ten to fifteen, but my men and I were attacked by a clan of fifty or so a few days ago. I do not believe Lamia would send out her entire force on eleven weres, but I cannot estimate how many vampires she has created. The first only appeared five years ago, but she may have begun long before that.”

“We could attempt scrying for them to estimate their number,” a scholar suggests.

“Vampires are immune to all magic but elemental,” Yongguk replies with a shake of his head. “That is most likely why your seers were not aware of their existence in the first place. Lamia views humans as weak, easily conquered. She will have a considerable force but it will be much less than the Capitol’s troops. If we fight wisely, we do have a chance of winning, or having such an end as to be worthy of remembering. I do have some ideas.”

A younger officer stifles a snort, but clears his throat when his action is noticed. The respect in his voice is veneer thin as his says, “Battles are different than skirmishes, sir. They are not fought in the same way, they cannot be won in the same way.”

“And what do you know of fighting vampires?” General Choi cuts in. His voice is soft, but the reprimand loses no sharpness. “When entering a battle with uneven odds, one must utilize every resource they have. The lives of every inhabitant of this city, this kingdom, depend on us doing so. Pride is a terrible thing to sacrifice one’s family for.”

The officer shrinks back, mumbling an apology.

“Now that that foolishness is done,” General Choi returns his gaze to Yongguk, “what are these plans of yours, Master Were?”

 The meeting lasts well into the night, and everyone leaves with somber faces, but firm resolution to fulfil their assigned parts. Although your survival is by no means sure, the plans that have been set in motion are enough to allow you a deep, unbroken sleep. You only allow yourself a few hours.

For the sake of the kingdom, you cannot squander even a second of the single day you have to give the soldiers and bears what training you can. If you had a week to prepare, it would not be enough, but one lesson could be the difference between seeing the dawn and be buried by it.

The lions and wolves divide themselves, the majority going to the field to instruct the soldiers. You stay behind with Sehun, Himchan, and Kyungsoo to concentrate on the bears. A great deal of your plans rest on their competence.  

Throughout the morning and afternoon, the sounds of hundreds of anvils being struck and the shouts of workmen dragging wood to the front lines carries over the palaces walls to the large training enclosure where you work, sweat dripping off your face and onto the dusty clay. Three bears circle you warily, dulled stakes in hand.

“Do not wait for the vampire to move first,” you remind them, keeping your eyes on Hoseok and Yoonho, and your ears listening for Minkyun. “They are accustomed to their prey running. Attacking first throws them off balance.”

Hoseok feints towards his left and lunges with stake raised. You spin out of reach, but Minkyun dodges around his friend to attack your right, Yoonho running at you from your other side.

You drop to the ground and roll. As they try to follow, you trip Yoonho and dart a chalk-marked finger across the side of his neck. Springing up, you leap up onto Minkyun’s back, knock the stake from his hands, and slash a finger over his throat. “Both dead.”

The crunch of dirt warns you Hoseok is coming from behind, but he hesitates to strike at your back. It gives you enough time to kick him in the chest. Pushing off Minkyun’s back, you land crouched with your feet on either side of Hoseok’s chest.

“Dead,” you pronounce. You step off and lend him a hand before chastising him. “If you get the chance to stake a vampire, do it no matter what. They have no honor therefore they deserve none. It is kill or be killed, gentleman.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they say together. Though they wear similar discouraged looks, they still dust themselves off and retrieve their stakes.

“Again.”

This time, they do not dither. You block Yoonho and Hoseok’s jabs and strikes, but they use their strength to push you backwards. Your feet slide until you dance backwards and away.

A large paw suddenly swipes your feet from under you. Another hinders your rolling away. Before you can turn the other direction, it turns to human and Minkyun’s stake stops just above your heart. When you breathe in, the wood presses against your skin.

You couldn’t be more elated.

“Excellent.” You beam up at him, glad when he returns it and helps you up. “Very good. You see? You may not be as fast, but you are strong and capable of being just as cunning. Well done, Minkyun. Let’s go again.”

 When your shadows stretch to touch the eastern wall, you retire to your rooms as agreed. As dire as training is, with dusk fast approaching, you all need rested bodies with a few hours of sleep and replenishment. Yongguk is already in the room, dressed in a long shirt, sitting on the bed and watching the door.

He gives you a weary smile. A few dirt smudges stain his forehead. “How are the bears?”

“They will hold their lines,” you reply confidently. You step behind the screen to shed your clothes and gratefully scrub the water in the basin over your face and body. “They are intelligent and as much born hunters as us. Their bear forms are slower, but they compensate with their strength. A blow from their paws will do far more damage than ours. The soldiers?”

“There are too many of them and too few of us,” he sighs. “We did the best we could, but we must hope their protections serve them well rather than their skill. A servant brought the clothes from the princess, by the way.”

Peeking around the screen, you spot the inconspicuous package wrapped in plain white cloth. Your heart thumps hard, but you keep your voice steady. “Good.”

“I am still uneasy about this part of the plan.” Yongguk admits as you pull a loose sleeping shirt and come out from the screen with a damp cloth. “I do not want to think of what Lamia will do if she discovers she was fooled.”

“She will have to deal with me, that is what she will do.” Stepping between his knees, you gently wipe away at the smudges he missed.

He submits without complaint, his hands resting on your hips, fingers lightly kneading. The little wrinkle between his eyes stays in place even after you try to kiss it away. You continue wiping, knowing there is more to his worrying.

When you toss the towel, Yongguk sighs again and gathers you close, burying his face in your stomach. “You speak like you are fearless. I wish I possessed half the hope you do. There is so much at stake if we fail that I cannot help doubting,” he admits, voice heavy with its burden of uncertainty. “The impossible happens, but I fear it will not this time.”

You run your fingers through his hair, heart aching for him. “I am not as bright as I seem. I too am afraid of what will happen if we lose tonight, but we cannot think of the consequences. We must trust ourselves and believe we will win because  we must.”

“Do you know what I fear the most?”

“What?”

“I fear losing you more than the entire kingdom.” Yongguk lifts his head to look into your eyes. Love battles with a loss he is already imagining. “Ness, I would rather die-”

Hurriedly, you press your hand to his mouth. Your nerves are already raw with this waiting on the edge of the storm, no matter how well you’ve hidden it. “Do not talk of death. Not now. We are both alive now, both still loving each other with all our hearts, as we always will.”

Yongguk leans his cheek into your hand as you trace his jaw. A days’ worth of stubble itches your palm. Despite shaving before the dinner with his parents, the following two days have left it unattended. The shadows on his cheeks and chin echo the darkness under his eyes you wish you could simply kiss away.

His arms around your back suddenly tighten so your knees buckle and fall into his lap.

“Yongguk.”

He does not answer, only resting his cheek against your neck, his chin tucked on your shoulder. He is already sinking into the darker parts of his mind. The voices there will grant him no sleep, something he vitally needs to stay with you in the world of the living.

Determined to drag him back as you have before, you give him something else physical to focus on. You trail your fingers from his jaw into his hair, gently combing the long, inky strands. Casually, you comment, “I think I may like this.”

“This?” he asks.

Sliding your fingers further back, you massage his scalp. “This. It reminds me of your mane, thick and beautiful. It’s longer than you usually keep it.”

The slow pull and press of your fingers draws a low, rumbling purr from Yongguk’s mouth. “I will grow it as long as you please,” he groans, “as long as you do not stop.”

You hum in amusement and relief at your success. “This length is fine, and I will not stop yet, but first.”

With gentle hands, you push him back onto the bed. You ease yourself onto his chest, so warm and beginning to slow in its rise and fall. A smile curves your lips. For such a complex man, it is incredible how such a simple action relieves his burdens.

Yongguk’s eyes flutter shut, but your fingers continue moving. Although you should sleep as well, you cannot. Not just yet. You must soak in every nuance of his face, his body pressed beneath yours. As much as he fears your death, you fear his even more. Yongguk is your world. Without him, you have no future even if you live.

But you cannot let the fear win. You will remember him to bolster your courage should it waver. You will keep yourself alive for him, as he will for you. When he wakes up, you will make him promise so.

As his breathing slows further, you carefully withdraw your fingers, intending to lay them over his heart to feel its reassuring beat. But your hands slide no further than his shoulders when Yongguk’s fly up to catch your wrists.

His eyes are open, alert but heavy with something very different from sleep. Your heart thumps hard once, then races.

Eyes on yours, Yongguk raises your hands to his mouth and lays a languid kiss on each open palm, then your wrists. You shiver shamelessly, warmth flooding your stomach in a second.

He wraps a hand around the back of your neck. Yongguk’s voice is deeper as he softly says, “If I do die tonight, I want to walk into the Goddess’ arms with your taste on my lips.”

Heart fluttering, you can only murmur your agreement because his mouth is on yours.

One hand folds itself in your hair, the other tracing your side down to the small of your back. He molds you against him, stoking your need for him with each prolonged skim of his hand. You drown in his lips, quickening your kisses in your search for his air. But Yongguk tightens his fingers in your hair and keeps his mouth slow to demand every breath you have.

Your skin rises with the heat of his kisses until the silk clothing you wear burns uncomfortably. Thin as it is, it is an unbearable barrier keeping your body from Yongguk’s. You need his skin against yours. You need him.

Your body sags in a sigh when you feel him tug on the bottom of your dress. It flies off your body and his shirt joins it. Then Yongguk’s hands are back. Yet when you try to recapture his mouth, he pushes on your hip so you fall on your back. He follows and his lips begin to caress the delicate curve where your neck meets your shoulder. Your whine drops into a moan as he mouths along your shoulder, tongue soothing the abrasive scrape of his stubble.

You whisper his name and tug on his shoulders. You want his lips on yours, but again he evades you. Instead, Yongguk explores your body with his kisses, discovering every sensitive area to make you tremble. Your earlobe. The bottom of your jaw. The underside of your breasts. The curve of your hip. Your back arches with need as you squirm, until his hair brushes the inside of your thighs. He pushes your legs apart and settles himself between them. Still, he tantalizes without satisfying by delivering light nips and long kisses along the thin skin and not near your throbbing heat. The sight of him between your legs, all golden skin and muscle in the evening light, only increases your breathing’s speed and your need.

Yongguk finally raises his head from your legs and kisses his way back up to rest his chin on your stomach. The adoration in his eyes steals what breath you still possess. “The more I look at you,” he whispers, “the more stunning you become, my lioness.”

You gulp back the tears that suddenly swell and close off your throat. How you ever deserved the blessing of being loved so, you will never know. But you smile for Yongguk and reply, “I love you, too.”

He gazes at you a few moments more, undoubtedly memorizing your face as you did his earlier. Then, as he crawls up to claim your kiss again, he guides himself into your warmth, one hand on your hip. All at once, your need slams into your body again, nerves electrified anew.

Yongguk swallows your shaky exhale as he waits for you to adjust, amusing himself with more kisses that take and take. You cannot remember if he felt the same those unforgettable hours in the dugout. Now, the mere sensation of him filling you has you quivering beneath him.

Slowly, you raise your hips to meet his. Yongguk groans and bites your lip, jutting his hips forward. Again, your back arches, pulling him deeper. Desire surges through your veins, but you cannot let yourself fall yet. Every second of your joining must be cherished and carefully stowed in your heart.

“Love me, Yongguk,” you frantically murmur, opening your eyes to look in his face. Your arms fall from his hair to wrap around his shoulders, your legs locking around his hips. You cannot be close enough.

Softly, Yongguk kisses your cheek, then presses a gossamer kiss to your lips. “Always.”

When his mouth descends for a devouring kiss, you let yourself become lost in the sensations, in all that is Yongguk.

In defiance of the urgency that has been nipping at your heels, you slip into a place where time does not exist. It is only you and Yongguk. His hands pushing your hips onto his slow, well timed rolls that have your breaths hitching. Your lingering fingers that leave goosebumps across his chest in their wake. The deliberate kisses that claim your breath and souls.

The waves of pleasure build and build until they push you to the precipice. You cling to the edge, unwilling to surrender unless Yongguk goes with you. The growing unevenness of his rhythm tell you he is just as close. Finally, with a groan of your name and a wild thrust, you feel Yongguk’s release, a sudden heat filling you. His climax elicits your own and all the world fades in the face of your delicious completion.

Your sweat covered bodies stick to each other as Yongguk sprawls over you, but you do not move. You cannot move, still caught in the haze of satisfaction and intimacy.

With a grunt, Yongguk rolls to the side, pulling you with him until your positions are reversed. A deeper pleasure than before warms every part of your body, emanating from your heart. If ever there was a place you wanted to be forever, it is surrounded by Yongguk’s arms with his heartbeat in your ear. You nestle closer. Yongguk’s lips brush your temple, his sigh tickling your hair.

Neither of you speak. You have said all you needed and wanted to without words. You can feel the love embedded in your very bones. Now, it is time to let the drowsiness coax you to sleep while you can.

Soon, your world will be forever changed. You can only pray you are both alive to see it.

Previous Part 

Kingdom Map, The Keep Map, Weres scale , Were Guide