#and now i have her crown thing that opens the secret door

[corpocyborg]

god... the durge play through is so much fun so far... just now my durge, face absolutely covered in worg dung, intimidated a goblin into kissing her feet and earned simultaneous approval from lae'zel, shadowheart, and astarion

[pricetagged]

(don't you know) that death is a very stable job ii

Poor little Dormouse, with her cruel father and labourer's hands. You find an unexpected guard dog in one of the passing Knights. Medieval/Fantasy Knight! Simon AU. 8.9k As mentioned in Part i this was inspired by a scene in 'The Serpent Queen' and @/bi-writes 'a hand for a hand'. Content: mild violence, power imbalance (social hierarchy ew), oral (f-receiving), PIV sex,. Reader is described as a young woman, (generally body-neutral but implied to be plump/curvy).

________________________________________________ -------------------------------------------------------------- ii

As the Palace loomed taller and taller you felt you stomach drop lower and lower. You imagined that Simon's horse must be kicking it up the street by now.

Lady Thamesbury's maid had braided your hair into some intricate crown that Simon said looked 'real pretty on ya'. You let Simon pick your riding clothes and fasten your cloak, content that he wouldn't have you looking a fool. Still, you feared that you could look like many other things to the nobles of the court.

It was almost anticlimactic, reaching the doors and being ushered in by staff who flustered around to welcome the Duke of Northmire and Earl of the Northern Isles. You leaned heavily on Simon's forearm as he walked you towards the throne room, his heavy bootsteps echoing the pounding of your heart. Ornate wooden doors opened to reveal a large hall, bisected by a long, elaborate carpet leading to the throne itself. It seemed rather empty, actually. You had expected to see throngs of corseted and besilked courtiers watching you from over the tip of their noses, waiting to see if the silly little dormouse would scratch up the furniture. Instead, the Heralds announced you to the King who sat upright like a cat on his dais. The only other occupants were a lean, handsome man, an upright, elegant lady, and an imposing, whiskered man by her side.

For all your anxiety, it was rather inconsequential. You stuck like a limpet to Simon, ducking and curtseying as he bowed, nodding and smiling as he spoke. The King seemed only mildly interested in you, offering bland congratulations and agreeing to meet with Simon to close the marriage banns and approve the union. He seemed distracted. You had the distinct feeling that you had walked into something important. Something intense. It hung in the air, heavy and viscous as clay. It clung to the walls, to the faces of those gathered, thick and dark and cracking. You hoped that it would flake off, terra fluttering down as you scurried away and out of sight.

Out of mind.

"Good to see you again, Simon," The bearded man clapped him hard upon the shoulders, familiarity warming his smile. He nodded your way, "I see you’ve been busy."

The corners of your lips twitched, smile sprouting up under the glow of this friendly attention. He was big, almost as tall as your Knight. He stood tall, too, finely dressed and fully armed. There was an ease of movement to his steps, his words, like he was used to stating his will and having it be so. Your keen eyes caught the signet ring snug against his thick fingers, and the decorative scabbard at his hips. The weapon within was doubtless more dangerous than its ornamentation would imply.

"Y'r Highness," there was a note of irony in Simon’s voice. Irony without teeth. Playful. "This is my wife."

His warm hand clutched at your waist, strong forearm steeling your back. You bobbed a little curtsey, flustered at the attention.

At the contact.

"Where did he find you, eh?"

"More like where did she find him?" the handsome man at his side cut in, eyebrows quirking between you and Simon.

"Not loungin’ around the palace playing quoits and collectin’ favours from pretty ladies’ maids," he rumbled over the sound of Johnny’s snicker.

"But Simon, the ladies’ maids know all the best secrets," he shot back, rakish glint undimmed in his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he continued more seriously. "We missed you, Your Grace. Lot of things happening lately."

The four men shared a look, familiarity and trust allowing secrets to leap between them without words. The unspoken danced in the air, silent and striking. You looked away, unfamiliar with the steps and turns. Not privy to the unutterable brotherhood that bound them.

The outlander, the echo of your father’s voice dripped poison in your mind. Playing pretend at the palace.

Only, that wasn’t quite true.

Cold light filtered through stained glass, turning kaleidoscope on the flagstones. On you and Simon. Simon who had yet to leave your side, arm pressing you to his as you bathed in softly coloured apricity. Your sentinel, shielding you under his shadow from the swill-soaked streets of the lower pits all the way up to the palace. Of course he felt how you stiffened, shrinking in on yourself a little. Of course he noticed your shiver, the slight tilt of your head down and to the side. His fingers stroked gently across the softness of your waist, soothing.

"Well, you still got your courtly manners or wot?" He looked between the two men. "Been ridin’ all day. Want to get to our chambers, settle a bit."

"Me an’ all, cannae feel my legs," Johnny slapped at his thighs, perking up at the thought of a soft bed and warm hearth. "Where hae they put me this time?"

"You’re down in the stables with the other beasts, MacTavish," the handsome man cut in again, cheeky. You could hear the grin in his voice.

Johnny swaggered forwards, clapping his friend hard on the shoulder as they all laughed. Tension swept away, you walked along winding corridors swathed in rich tapestries and flickering sconces. As you went, you got the names and titles of your new companions. The confidence of the bearded man made sense, serving now as a Grand Duke but having worked in the service of the Crown for decades. John was his name, and only he outranked Simon. The final man, charming in both face and manner, was Kyle, Prince of Thamesbury. You could see now the similarities between him and his sister, both tall and lissome. Both blessed with a prepossessing sort of beauty, inviting and familiar.

They bid farewell at your door, all bowing at you with a promise to meet with Simon later. Johnny, naturally, made a show of raising your knuckles to his lips to land a smacking kiss that shocked you into laughter so much that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed of your scars.

Their footsteps grew fainter and fainter into silence.

Just you and Simon, like those first few days. A little thrill warmed your chest, like an ember glowing happily red in its fireplace. You wondered if he could feel it, if the warmth suffused outwards to him through flesh and bone and armour until it buried deep into his chest cavity, ribs and gristle acting as the hearth for whatever this was to grow. To blaze brightly.

The door shut, heavy oak and iron ushering you both into your own little world.

"C'mere."

You didn't even think, just folded yourself into him before the final syllable left his lips. He was still outfitted in riding gear and half armour, cold and hard pressing against your cheek. Strong arms enveloped you, cradling you against his bulk. You tipped your head back, gazing up into his eyes. His face was obscured, but you knew what lay underneath. His eyes, dark but so soft, crinkled slightly as you looked up. You imagined the harsh lines of his gnarled face were soft, too, beneath the mask. Your lips parted, aching to ask him-

The rough pad of his fingertip stopped the words before they could form.

Confused, you blinked up at him. There was a barely perceptible shake of his head, finger still gently shushing you. He leaned down, fabric rustling against your ear as you strained to hear his low rumble.

"Wait. Walls 'ave ears."

Like a cat, you nuzzled your face closer to his. His warmth bled through the mask as your lips traced the valley from cheek to ear.

"When?" you felt him shudder as you whispered, the ghost of your breath almost louder than your voice. "I want to know what's going on. I want to help you."

"Tonight. I'll tell ya tonight. After the feast. Few things I still need t' scope out."

He felt your nod.

"Good girl," he pressed his forehead to yours. You felt, more than heard, the rumble of his voice. "Behave y'rself. And remember, you don' answer to anyone who isn't me."

------------------------------- Simon sent away the ladies maids with a curt nod. They'd come to drop off the evening's clothes, to dress you and braid your hair. He watched all the while, eyes never leaving wherever they touched you. They recognised the warning that lay in his silence, never lingering on your skin or teasing you to draw out stories and gossip. You couldn’t even say that you felt like a doll, because you'd always seen the rich girls talk to theirs as they draped them in little cotton overskirts and twisted their flax string hair. As they plucked and pulled and bundled you supposed that you could be akin to a stump doll. Not the soft, delicate, pretty kind but rather the ones roughly hewn from wood into human form. Harder. Sturdier. And yet, as they lifted your arms and twirled you around you reminded yourself that you were malleable too. You could articulate your limbs, turn your head, and weather through the rough and the cold.

And maybe, as Simon's signet ring glinted behind you in the vanity mirror, maybe the storms had passed.

You stared into the mirror as you watched him dismiss them. It was a big, gold ornate thing. Almost grotesque in with its twisting gilt frame, little cherubic faces and animals warped into the design. It was the largest one you'd ever seen. The clearest, too. You could see each and every strand of your hair, swept back and gleaming as decorative pins glistened like dewdrops above your brow. Your skin glistened too, some of that warm little ember in your chest heating you from the inside and making you glow. You looked softer than you ever had before, even when looking at your reflection in the sudsy, shimmering waters of the river where you once stooped and sweated your labour.

Maybe it was the candlelight, maybe it was the past few weeks of care and good food. Maybe it was-

Your Knight stepped up behind you, too tall to be entirely within frame, and placed his heavy hand softly on your shoulder. He leaned down, cheek against yours as he looked at you through the looking glass. His pale blond lashes trembled slightly, pupils flickering across your image as if he sought to study it. To keep you in this frame, you and him imprinted together on polished silver. You wondered if the superstitions were true, if mirrors really could capture the soul and keep it bound forever in the confines of cold metal and glass. His dark, burning eyes met yours and you flicked the thought away. It wouldn't matter if it were true. There was no frame that could hold a Ghost, and if he couldn't be found there then neither would you.

"Suits ya," he trailed his fingers across the dense, glossy velvet of your cotehardie. "I should dress y'in more than just black 'n white. The colour suits ya."

"I like your colours, though. They suit you."

It was true. Black and white. Dusk and dawn. Beginning and end; it was a study in contrasts, the underlying tones and shades to every colour in existence. You could picture it now, the Squire boy from a township not unlike your own. He must have been tall for his age, some kind of strength burning in him and catching the attention of those who normally wouldn't deign to look at errand-boys and helpers. You could picture him older too, black armour on a pale white horse cutting a swathe of red across a copper-drenched field. And now, his pale, scarred face was free from its usual black mask. Gazing right back at you.

"Would you give me a favour? Something in your colours to carry to the feast?"

He huffed a little, dour expression belied by the warmth in his eyes.

"Isn't it meant t'be the other way around? You granting me a ribbon or a handkerchief or a lock of y'r hair?"

"Well, I don't exactly know how these matters work, Simon. I wasn't raised for it," you felt no embarrassment referencing your past to him now. Here. In your chambers. "But I know enough to say that one normally is granted a favour before embarking on a quest or challenge."

There a was a little archness to your tone, a silly attempt to mimic the cadence of the women you'd heard shuffling around the courtyard.

"I see," he couldn't quite suppress the twitch of his thin, scarred lips. "Cheeky thing, aren't ya. Attending a feast as my wife that difficult, eh?"

Your nose scrunched, protest etched into your nerves before the words formed. "Attending the feast is. I'm not well educated, but I am not stupid, Simon. I know that something is afoot - yes, I know you'll tell me later. I- I'm just not entirely sure what is expected of me."

Instead of answering, you watched as he tugged at the fastening of his surcoat until the thick, black cord slipped free. It was exhilarating watching hands that wrought death move so dexterously. You had never considered yourself an aesthete, but imagined that gazing at Simon would make you so. There was a sort of rawness to his beauty, like a cliff weathered by sea and spray. The valleys and ridges, the pockmarks and scars, stood as a testament to strength and endurance. And now, it was brought low before you.

His reflection dipped lower and lower out of your line of sight, a mountain brought low by a breeze. He still appeared huge, behemoth, on his knees. It caused something to cramp in your belly, watching through the mirror how he matched you height even as he crouched to the floor. You burned, low and furling in your core until it rose languidly up to your cheeks. Your underlayers, the soft cotton chemises, felt suffocating and itchy against your dampening flesh. You held your breath, scared to snuff out this moment, this dizzying feeling that made your face hot and sent your thoughts swirling.

It was excruciating, feeling the heavy drag of your skirts inching up your calf. The rough, uneven pads of his fingers ticked the curve of your ankle as he lifted it to his lap. Cool, woven leather coiled around and around, tying a little piece of him around you. It wasn't tight, just nestled comfortably, but you knew that you'd feel it as you walked. As you sat and listened and talked, all the while pretending that you couldn't feel the extemporal wedding-garter nestled under your skirts. Secret as a whisper.

His hand lingered, fingertips swirling higher above the makeshift anklet, taking in the softness of your calf. How the muscle twitched as you tried not to shudder. You licked your lips and finally, finally, dragged your eyes away from you own blown pupils staring back at you through the mirror. You looked down past layers of tight bodice and velvet skirts until you could see that his pupils were just as blown as yours.

His eyes never left yours as he stood, brushing close to your chest util he towered over you once more. You could feel the rise of his chest through your bodice, his calm, steady breaths belied by the intensity of his gaze on yours. Maybe he could feel your pulse, hammering so hard that it must surely be visible in the delicate line of your arched neck. Maybe he could feel your hitching breaths, just as he could feel yours. His rough, warm hand came to caress your cheek like unpolished wood meeting velvet. You leaned in, held your breath, and let your eyes drift closed.

In the autogenic darkness of your lids you watched shadow turn to phosphene as you felt his face dip lower. The slight tickle of stubble on your cheek wrought a shiver, before you melted into the press of his scarred lips against yours. It was languid, slow, dragging across your lips until they parted. His large hand cradled the back of your head as he tasted you, wet and open-mouthed, until you felt dizzy and weak-kneed. His lips moved up, stopping finally to kiss your forehead as you swayed in his arms.

"I told ya already. Be good, be wary. And don' answer to anyone who isn't me." You nodded slowly, looking up at him with head heavy and hot. He smiled, then, a gristled, toothy thing that twisted his already scarred face. You couldn't help but to smile back. "There she is, my wily little dormouse. Time t'go."

Arriving at the Great Hall was a blur, but somehow he managed to direct your bambi legs across uneven flagstones and winding stairs. Your thoughts cooled as you journeyed through the damp, castle halls, leaving behind something viscous and sticky on your flesh. Between your thighs. You shivered in the cold, stone halls, grateful now for the heavy clothes that earlier had felt so burdensome. How far had you come from the girl who knew nothing of men except to avoid them? The girl who imagined slipping in the shoal of the lower districts, unsteady on the grit of the sandbanks until the water swelled and took her away. In lieu of pinching yourself at the table, you crossed your legs and pressed one ankle into the other, the facsimile of elegance and ease.

Only you knew that you sought to dig the cord around your ankle deeper, let it tear through integument and tendons until flesh healed over top and fused it into you.

Would even that be enough? Would anything?

His meaty thigh pressed into yours.

You smiled prettily up at him, something secret in the curve of your lips and the fluttering of your lashes. The wine at the table was heavy, fragrant, and made you lightheaded almost as much as Simon had earlier. Almost enough to set you at ease, to make you forget about all others in the room.

The bubble burst as feasting turned to frolicking.

You didn't know how to dance. The reason was multifold, the first being that it simply wasn’t a part of your education. People danced in the lower districts, yes, but you imagined it to be a little too raucous, too unrefined for current company. Another reason was that it hardly fit the directive - be quiet, be meek, be sweet - that ruled most of your life as you scurried away from the sight of others. Who had the time, energy, or inclination to dance when each day was spent splitting skin with lye and cold water, working until the body ached and belly rumbled? You hadn't even had the coin for a glass of cheap, tavern swill after handing all earnings over to your father.

You noticed how, during the feast, the threat of Simon's reputationn had killed any attempts at conversion. You wondered, now, if alcohol and music would embolden anyone beyond curious glances and hushed whispers. Hopefully not.

You were joined only by the men you had met earlier. Simon's friends; the Ghost's brethren.

"Dinnae fancy a dance, Yer Grace?"

"Not if y'r offerin'."

"Nae offering you, that's fer sure," Johnny turned towards you after slapping Simon on the shoulder. "What d'ye say, Bonnie? Know how tae jig?"

You shook your head hard, lips pressed together to suppress a smile. You could picture it, sure that he'd be nothing if not an enthusiastic partner, twirling you around the floor like a leaf on the breeze. He was outfitted in a slightly more decorative version of his usual islesman garb, gold threads intertwined with the heavy wool of his tartan. His eyes still shone a little too bright, that same intensity dancing across his face, but it didn't alight your instincts. Simon trusted him. You trusted Simon. There was comfort in the simplicity.

"I'm not much of a dancer, My Lord. I'd only step on your toes."

"My toes can take it, nae bother."

"She doesn't want t'dance. Go bother one of th'other ladies." There was no real heat in Simon's voice, amusement clear in the tilt of his brow.

"Yer no fun. Just plannin' tae glare from the corner o'the hall all night?"

"You could join us, if ya want. Might change the glare t'a glower once the candles burn down."

Johnny chuffed through his nose at that, rolling his eyes at thr approaching Kyle. With a nod in your direction, he addressed his friend.

"Disnae want tae dance, barely will talk without a dour comment. Got any ideas to liven them up, Gaz?"

"Don't look at me, I'm here for some quiet too. Too much chatter, not enough said over there," he nodded towards the group of men he'd just left across the hall. Earlier, the heralds had announced them as the King's military advisors and diplomatic envoys. They looked it, too, standing tall and with the ease that is born of power and prestige. Their swords glinted and mouths smiled even as their eyes remained flat and shifty. Arch and calculating as a gentleman fox.

"Yer all dreich as a ditch in winter," he groaned half-heartedly, winking at you as you tried not to laugh.

Simon caught your eye, too, something playful flickering around him, turning his shock of blond hair into a nimbus. Your mind was already able to fill in the blanks of his face, to paint over the black maw of his mask. You knew that he was smirking, tongue running across his teeth as he savoured what he was about to say.

"I'll tell ya a joke, then, Johnny-"

"-oh, naw, not another one o'those-"

"What do you call it when a wizard's wand is broken?"

"A wizards..? Dinnae ken."

"A spell of bad luck."

Even Kyle groaned at that, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water. "That was terrible. I heard better over there," he nodded towards the strategic envoy across the floor.

"Okay, okay. One more. What do y'call a Knight with poor swordsmanship?" Simon crossed his arms across the wide barrel of his chest and leaned back against the wall, all ease and confidence despite the heckling audience.

"Dinnae know."

"Y'call him John MacTavish," he didn’t wait for the line to land before he let out a quiet hehehe, laughing even as Johnny's face turned red and chest puffed up.

"Yer a roaster, Simon, an absolute roaster. That's my cue tae find Price," he called over his shoulder as he marched towards a nondescript side door.

"You best go and join him, Simon. The Captain was looking for you too," Kyle must have read the hesitation in his frame, the way his face lingered on yours. "I'll be here."

It left you off-kilter, slightly. The heavy weight always balanced at your side was striding across the room, cutting a swathe through revelers as they tried both to avoid him and keep him in their sights. Little flocks of feathery, pecking creatures banding together as the wolf skulked through their coop.

They didn't even warrant a glance from him.

But for you it left you lopsided. Watching as he slipped into the shadows. Missing him. Maybe you'd always feel that way, always need something to ground you. Before, it was the weight of a basket set against your plush hip, digging in and leaving bruises with the heft of sopping shifts and underskirts. Now it was him, wide, warm palm frequently brushing the swell of your waist. Large shadow always in your periphery.

In the future, could that space be filled with something of yours? Both of yours. Something sweet and small and-

could it-?

"It must have been an interesting courtship," Kyle's low, smooth voice cut through your reverie.

"Yes, most unexpected," you turned to look up at him. With just the two of you, temporary wallflowers decorating the fringes, you could take in more of his face. Neat little mustache; big brown eyes. Beautiful. Smart. Like the bloodhounds who stirred around the forest's edge, just waiting to catch the right scent. "But I'm glad for it."

Wordplay was best-served when honest. You were not as skilled as those around you, perhaps, but you had experience in knowing when and where to hold your tongue.

"As are we," he must have caught the slight widening of your lids, the parting of your lips. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, all sincere camaraderie. "No need to look surprised. I've followed him to the bleakest, blood-soaked fields this side of the known world. I've never known him to make a bad decision. Don't let others find room for doubt."

It was strange, this ready acceptance from his men. It was all the more stark when contrasted with the strangers at the palace. You'd seen the glances around the room, yes, the curious eyes. The occasional sneers. The whispers of The Ghost and his captive bride. But you'd grown hardened against rumours over the years, though attention still left you askance.

"Noted, my lord." you played coy - be sweet-. "I defer to your expertise."

He laughed, smile lambent as the light from a candle. "Johnny tried to tell me you were skittish."

"His lordship likes to talk."

"And you don't, I see. That's good. Some things are better left unsaid."

"Yes, so I've seen," you sent a pointed look at the door through which your husband had disappeared.

He looked at you, then, something like respect under the arch of his brows. "Smart too. Though, Ghost was right to keep this to himself." It was silent for a moment before he squinted at something across the ballroom. "You could help, if you wanted."

"Help with what?"

"With a little fishing. The man on his way - yes, him. Blond hair, black tunic - he's been sniffing around all night for scraps. He's very keen to see what Ghost has been doing since the Zakhaev Campaign in the East."

You were reminded starkly that the man who knelt at your feet and kissed you so softly spent most of his life blanketed in the smoke and splatter of the battlefield. It wasn't something that you had forgotten, per se, as you thought back to the circumstances of your meeting. Rather, it was known to you in the same way that you knew the sun would rise in the morning. You saw it from a distance, admired it even, but did not think on it beyond that. Perhaps it was naïve, brushing off the reputation of your husband whilst others whispered it in fear. But you thought back to his directive to you, 'Don't answer to anyone who isn't me,' and turned to regard the approaching newcomer.

It was as clear as the crystal you'd been sipping from all night; you wouldn't leave this hall without speaking to this man.

Rather, he wouldn't leave this hall without speaking to you.

He sought you out. He thought that he anything you would reveal would be to his benefit. You hid your smile behind your wine glass.

"He's important, I take it?"

"You've heard of 'The Shephard'?" he continued at your nod. "The King's advisor. An old war dog. Graves answers to him."

It swirled around, more information clouding the glass rather than clearing it. You weighed it up in your mind, testing the form and density of your thoughts. One stood out, and you cradled it. Let it roll around in your mind and still your tongue-

-Whatever this intrigue was, it truly didn't interest you.

As a girl, when you hungered so deeply that it gnawed at you even in your sleep, you cared nothing for the palace. The Crown meant nothing to you, nothing to the other laundresses, as you pounded stains against rocks in the long, humid days of summer. Knights and Lords and their ilk seldom slid far enough down the tiers to be seen in your village. They meant nothing to you. Not when food, fire, safety were hard to find and hard-won.

But perhaps that's why your interest was stirred a little. With belly-full and body-warm what were you left to think of? When 'Simon' became synonymous with 'safety', what would you do to keep it that way? What would you do to fight for it the way your bone-tired body once fought for basic dignity?

Simon had spilled blood for you. Had painted the cobbles at your feet with the sluggish, rusty ichor of your worthless father.

What would you-?

You glanced at the buffet table to your left, setting down the shield of your wine glass. It slopped over, a little claret stain bleeding onto the tablecloth. You tried not to take it as an omen. You gazed at the excess of the banquet, a kaleidoscope vanitas of fruits, cheeses, meats. Would they be left to rot? Untouched as the nobles twittered and flitted 'til the small hours. Would the servants be privileged enough to feed off the scraps after they'd been left to go stale? You let the rich, heady scent turn bitter and harden your face.

"Your Grace, may I present Philip Graves, Commander of the Shadow Company," Kyle gestured at the newcomer, all ease and neutrality. "Commander, the Duchess of Northmire."

"I believe that congratulations are in order," he bowed, a lazy half-nod in your direction. "Allow me the pleasure of your company with a dance."

"I'm not much of a dancer, my lord. But, you are welcome to keep our company as we observe," you demurred, eying the sharp cut of his smirk.

"Oh, I insist. It is a ball, after all," he licked at his lips, "You can, uh, balter as much as you please."

You played off your sneer as a smile. A little twitch of your nose. "But of course."

As he drew you forth you spent the gallows steps to the floor studying your quarry. He was handsome, yes, but there was something cold and sharp to his face. All angles and slopes in shades of pewter. You thought to handle him like a particularly sharp knife.

"Enjoying the festivities, ma'am?" you let him draw you just close enough to be polite, and slipped into his steps. "How does it compare with the parties back in your lands?"

"It doesn't; this is the palace, after all."

He hummed, dead eyes and charming smile. "That's a real pretty accent. I didn't quite catch where Ghost snapped you up from."

"My father arranged it. Not so exciting as to be the topic of court gossip."

That earned you what must have been a laugh. A soft chuff as he fixed you under his frigid gaze. Perhaps he thought you'd squirm, that you were some simple country lady raised to be sweet and obliging as she was packed off to the palace. You'd scurried from men like him, before. The kind of greasy, nipping dog that was sent down badger holes and rabbit warrens, slick and fast and mean. The kind who was powerful under another's command, crunching through necks and then coming to heel when called.

"I'm not one for gossip, My Lady," something stirred behind his lips, mouth twisting as he considered his next words.

Whatever they were, they were left unsaid.

"Been lookin' f'r ya."

"Ah, Ghost" he greeted your husband like an old friend. "Congratulations. Quite the charming little parvenu you've got here."

You didn't need to look behind you to feel how those words settled about as well as vinegar in the stomach. Sour. Biting.

"Be careful, Graves," his voice was rough, like the words scraped over angry, spitting coals before he released them. The firm, heavy bulk of his body pressed close to your side. You melted into him, leaning close so that the three of your stood in a clumsy isosceles. "Run on back t' Shepard. Heard he's callin' ya, missin' his dog."

"No need for that. We were just having a chat, weren't we now?" You kept your lips sealed, chin held high as you fidgeted out of his grasp and towards Simon. You didn't like the look on his face, the mocking, smug set of his smile as his eyes darted between you both. He sighed, like you'd somehow disappointed him. "You know, Ghost, playing knight-errant doesn't suit you."

Once back in Simon's arms you realised how Graves had left you distorted, shoulders hitched high and neck twisted and taut. Where you'd joined hands felt tacky, like dipping your fingers in the thick, greasy tallow you'd once used to make soap. You didn't look as he strutted away, instead just breathed in the comforting leather and musk of the sentry at your side.

Your eyes found the banquet table again, still glistening with fats and sweets. Only now, you could see the flies hovering around, rubbing their bristly black-stick legs together and burrowing in deep. ----------------------------

You were loath to slip away from Simon after that, now used to having him fill that empty, aching place in your chest. But the walls were closing in.

The air in the room had grown balmy and sweet, spilled drinks and sweat saturating the tablecloths and curtains. It reminded you of the drinking districts, of grubby hands digging into your arm and dragging you down to - to -

-to whatever didn't happen that night. That night Simon showed up.

Still, you needed air. You needed something cold; some sharp, icy breeze to sweep through the foliage sprouting in you mind. You sought to forage through what was left, scrabble over the dead leaves and twigs until you uncovered the verdant little buds below (I belong here. I belong-). You felt unmoored, like a spiraling sycamore leaf battling weather and wind until you were blown into the palace. Ready to be swept away. It was so easy to believe Simon when it was just you and him. You imagined the matter was as simple to him as breathing. The blood of other men spilled because he willed it. Men listened to him because he said so. You were his because he found you.

Simple.

But as you navigated the warren of palace halls in your fancy clothes and borrowed finery, you felt the acetous bubbles of doubt fizzing in your stomach. It was not Simon you doubted, but rather yourself. Little dormouse playing pretend. Talking and walking as if your timorous little heart wasn't fluttering in your chest. As if the petticoats and overskirts didn’t feel warm and burdensome, like the kind that would swell with water and drag you under back when you were nothing but a timid, inchoate shadow under the thrall of your father.

Something of Grave's words niggled at you - knight-errant. You know he meant it as an insult, but it just didn't quite fit Simon. Like throwing a cheap blow against the steely armour on his hulking frame. It just glanced off. But a little scratch lingered. The hint of something accusatory - like he'd slipped the leash, wandered too far and-

Low, rolling voices echoed off the damp stone walls. The sconces flickered as you looked around, boxed in between a heavy tapestry and unlatched door.

"-distracted by that little pony he's picked up from god-knows-where." It was Graves, cocksure and brash. "Now's the time, boys. Order's from on high."

"Allen is already in place with Kingfish. Awaiting your missive."

"That's what I like to hear," you could hear the swell of his chest. Anticipation let his words flow like honey from a hive. "Now, you and your brigade are to, uh, accompany the 141 when they're sent to El Reino de Las Almas in two days' time. Remember, no loose ends."

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

The blood rushing past your ears drowned out the rest of the exchange. Your whiskers twitched, prickling with unease as you glanced about for an escape. The sound of the door scraping across the tiles killed that hope.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" It was hard to turn your head, like trying to mold stiff wax, but you managed it. "Little far from the Grand Hall.

Your mother's advice echoed in your mind, as familiar and comforting as well-worn clothes. (Be quiet, be meek, be sweet-

-Don't answer to anyone who isn't me).

"You're right," you let out the breath you were holding, hoping to pass it off as relief. "I'm glad to see you, Commander Graves. Perhaps you would do the honour of escorting me? I'm afraid I'm a little lost."

"Don't do that. Don't think that I'll be taken in by that. You're puttin' me in a tough spot," he seemed to chew at his next words, rolling them around as he pinned you down with his dead eyes. "My lady."

Run, you thought. You eyed up the man before you, not as big as your Knight but still not worth underestimating. But a glance down the shadowed, unfamiliar halls had you thinking again. Run where?

He caught your furtive little twitch, tutted at you as he grasped at the meat of your upper arm. "Let's have a little talk, you and I."

You would have tripped over the layers of your skirts were it not for his vice grip holding you up. He let go abruptly, letting you stumble into the study from which he'd just emerged.

This time the door latched shut.

Papers littered the writing desk, all maps and missives that you couldn't read. You watched the slow, rolling drip of the candle wax in the corner as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. Would it burn down before you got out of here? Would someone stumble in, see only you and the cooling puddle of paraffin spilled across the floor?

What would Simon do, you thought. Simon, who was being set-up by the sinewy, sharp-toothed predator pacing behind you.

What would I do for Simon?

"It's real unfortunate you had to hear that." Funny. There was nothing of misfortune in his tone. "See, I don't much fancy what has to be done. But I can't let you go tellin' tales."

You raised your arms to your chest as he approached, letting the sleeves roll down and reveal your forearms. Your tough, cross-hatched labourers' hands.

He raised an eyebrow at your silence, somehow managing to look down at you from paces away. You knew his type. Like the nasty little terriers your father used to bet on, cheering as they tore into the squeaking, scrabbling rats trapped in the ring. It was nothing personal for him, you were sure, but that wouldn't stop him from enjoying it.

"Telling tales implies that my words would be fictitious," you couldn't resist one little dig. Let him chew on that, sniff at the bait you cast as your mind raced with what to do next. What to do, what to-

"Cute," it bought you only a second. "You realise that this is bigger than you, sweetheart. If it were up to me-"

You darted for the letter opener to your right, papers flying as your shaking, numb fingertips grappled to pick it up. There would be no talking him around, no amount of demurring and fluttered lashes that would get him to unlock his jaw.

"Now why'd you have to go and do a silly thing like that?"

It was silent for a beat, your wide, glossy eyes fixed on his unblinking stare. He was cold, focused in a way that tugged at the animal instincts in the back of your neck. You watched as he tilted his head to the side, sure that his teeth were slick and limbs coiled ready to snatch you as you made a mad dart for the door. Only, that wasn't your plan. You weren't the meek little ingenue he written you off as. A softer thing would have swooned as he manhandled her into the room alone, unchaperoned. A gentler creature would have bristled at his familiarity, calling you 'sweetheart' like he had the right. His years surrounded by lesser men and court sycophants had blinded him to one simple truth.

You weren't one of them.

It seemed to catch him off guard, shifted him slightly off kilter as he watched you steel your jaw and brace yourself near the table's edge. You'd hauled heavier loads than the delicate little paper knife biting into your hands. You were soft, yes, but it was a layer built over strength. Years of labour had seasoned you to pain, had hewn muscle and callouses just as valuable as those earned by other means. You weren't strong enough to fight him, true, but you were damned sure you would hold him off.

You tensed low and balanced, surefooted on the tiles as much as you were on the riverbanks. Shadows flicked under the sway of the dying candles, obscuring the razor contours of his face. Ephemeral. Volatile. You gulped down the bile bubbling up your throat as he advanced lazily towards you.

Only, something else emerged from the shadows. Transmuted from black and grey until he was not a shade but a man. A Ghost.

The candle snuffed, sooty trails of charcoal spiraling up. You saw through a haze, achromatic. Felt the shifting of weight, the dull thuds of fists hitting meat. Sluicing through sinew until you scented something metallic and hot. Your racing thoughts and galloping heart couldn't keep up with the scene, uselessly flitting across apparitions as the details struggled through the thick sludge of your mind.

-two shadows, or three? more?

hands grasping at you - no, holding you -

- something soothing -

-someone crying? were they-? -something heavy, trussed up and dragged-

-'We've got it, Simon-'

Your trembling fingers clutched at something slick, solid.

"Easy, easy dormouse," your quivering chin was pressed hard against the soaked fabric at his neck. You tasted salt on your lips, hot and wet and bleeding down your cheeks. Simon. Simon stroking at your hair as he cradled you close. He was so big. How could have forgotten the heft of him, the way he swallowed you up in arms as thick as branches? "I've got ya. You're with me."

You swam through the mire, nuzzled your nose into his neck one last time before peeling back. It was still dark, hazy, in the room. But pressed this close it didn't matter. You reached up, shaking fingertips stroking along the lines of a face revealed only to you. You could just about make out the pale crown of his hair, the whites of eyes that rested heavy on your face. You wondered how you looked to him, if he saw past the shuddering breaths and cracked lips to recognise that it was joy that sprung your tears. More than relief, more than gratitude it was some kind of retrouvaille. You wanted to cup the feeling, let it ripple and glimmer in between your palms as you brought it to his lips.

He'd lap at it - no, he'd drink it down greedily. Your sentry. Your paladin. The man who made you an orphan just to take you in.

How foolish of you to doubt that, to doubt yourself. You, who survived every winter and every famine made harder under the roof of your father. You, who bade the man who told you he wasn't made for anything but bloodshed, yet knelt at your feet.

You pressed your lips to his through the fabric of his mask, let him taste the words that cut through your sobs. "Never again, Simon. Never again."

Doubt. Faltering. Loneliness. Meekness, quiet, skittishness-

Never again. ------------------------------- You didn't flinch from the sight of the red that splattered the finery of your clothes. You'd seen gore before, had scrubbed at it until your fingers burned and skin peeled. Only, that wasn't your job anymore-

The snick of a match snapped you from your reverie. You were back, ensconced in your chambers with your knight. Your husband. You weren't sure of the time, of what happened at the ball or in the study. It didn't seem to matter, not when you were tucked away in the safe little suite where only you and he existed.

"I drew a bath f'r ya," his voice was soft, restrained. That just wouldn't do.

"Simon, look at me, look," you reached for him in a wispy parallel to your night at the townhouse. He was solid, planted to the ground but you felt him give as you tugged him close. You had to arch your neck back just to meet his eyes. "I- won't you join me?"

It rolled between you, this suggestion. You saw exactly when the idea took root, heat blossoming to burnt umber as his pupils dilated. You pressed in close, feeling the soft give of his stomach. If you placed your ear to his chest, would you hear his heart race? Could he want you as much as you wanted him? Did he know about the covetous, greedy thing that quivered inside your chest and cried out for you to bite down on the dense, keloid-slashed muscles until you tasted iron?

Would he let you?

It was scalding, searing heat that had simmered all the while he carried you back. Dizzying and fervent you wondered for a moment if you'd died in that room. That you'd risen some hungry, gluttonous creature driven only by voluptuary urges. But then you remembered the longing from earlier, the heady rush that sapped the strength from your legs as you watched him kneel before you.

"Will you make me beg for it? Make me say please?"

"Never," he spoke it like a promise. "Think I'd leave ya wanting?"

His hand felt cool against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, hoping it would douse the flames somewhat.

It stoked them higher.

You reached for the tie of his mask as he reached for your dress. The fabric prickled at your skin as it slid down, laces loosened at the front and revealing your chest to him. Your breasts felt heavy, nipples pebbling in the cool air under they were covered by his palm. You could see his lids dip low, desire making them heavy as he kneaded your sensitive flesh until you arched into it.

"Beautiful," he groaned as he dipped his head down. "Fuck, just need to have a taste-"

His large hand spanned your back, keeping you upright as he knelt before you once more. The heat of his mouth surprised you, wet tongue laving at soft skin as his other hand reached up to squeeze and roll at the sensitive peaks as you gasped and squirmed. You tugged at his hair, nails scratching into his scalp in a way that seemed to spurn him on. He pulled at your skirts, urgency tearing the seams against your hips and making you hiss. He mouthed down the swell of your stomach until he kissed away the sting, sucking new marks atop the ones he just left.

Desire sparks followed his mouth, leaving you sticky and pulpy until you sagged against the bed. It was an ouroboros kind of appetite, where the more he satiated himself the hungrier you grew. You felt raw, winded, as he spread your thighs to make space for his broad shoulders. So broad that the stretch hurt, made you arch up from the bed to paw him away with clumsy fingers.

"Simon, I can't- what are you-?" you whined as his teeth left imprints in the softness near your core.

"Shh," he soothed you with his tongue. "Need t'get you ready f'r me. Just lie back."

His forearm bulged as it banded across your stomach, keeping you pinned. You pressed your lips together, swallowed your cries as you felt him nudge at the wetness between your thighs. Gentler than you expected, he parted your folds, running his thick finger through the wetness that had gathered there.

"Ah-" you bit back a whine as he found the spot where you throbbed, circling the little bud at the apex of your core until your knees shook. Only the bulk of his shoulders prevented you from snapping them shut.

"That's it, love. Don' fight it. Let me see ya," he rumbled over the buzzing in your ears. You felt too hot, too heavy to do anything but twist against the pleasure that he wrung from you. Spread out, naked on satin sheets that stuck to your drenched back. You were open to him, entirely laid bare and thought made you ache. You felt yourself drip against his rough palm, soak the fingers that prodded your fluttering entrance.

"I need you, but I don't-"

"S'alright, I know what y'need."

You tried to follow the pull of his voice, to raise your head off the mattress and watch but the nudge of his nose against your folds had you falling back. His mouth felt hot, tongue laving over your sensitive flesh in a way that had you clawing at the sheets. You keened out, wanting to squirm away and press closer all at once. The noise would have embarrassed you, slick and loud in the quiet of the room. Would have, except you heard him groan into you, felt the rumble of it against your cunt as he feasted. He ate you like he was starving, fingers digging into your thighs so hard that you knew he'd leave an imprint in purple and red. Your thighs shook against his grip, body twisting against the pleasure building and building until it snapped and you surrendered.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you panted towards the canopy. Shivers danced along your spine as you lay limp on the mattress, exposing your hot, wet flesh to the coolness of the night. You were so slick that you felt the air biting at your inner thighs, and Simon's sloppy, lingering kisses at your core had you swiping at his hair.

"Simon, it's too much," there was something whiny, breathy in your voice.

"No such thing as too much of a good thing," he shed the remainders of his clothes, crawling up the bed until the firm lines of his body pressed into the soft lines of yours. He hovered above you, face-flushed and eyes dark. "I'm going t'take as much as I want, and I still won't be satisfied."

"What-?"

"Y'r my wife," he leaned down, let you taste yourself against his lips. "Mine. Never had much that was all f'r me."

You smiled into the kiss, shaking off the shyness that urged you to cover up, hide, look away- "Me neither."

You nipped at his lips, let him feel the indent of your blunt little teeth until the press of his fingers against your entrance left you open-mouthed and slack. His thick, calloused fingers circled your hole, testing how you fluttered and dripped for him. Stretched you out on the width of two fingers until you cried into his mouth. You felt the nudge of his cock, heavy and throbbing, as he made a space for himself inside your body. He was so thick, rocking in slowly so that you felt the exquisite sting of every inch. Your whines caught in your throat, head spinning as you danced the line of pleasure-pain spread open under your husband.

He carried you to the bathtub afterwards, your cunt aching and dripping with his spend. (He had run his fingertips along your swollen folds, scooping up his cum and pressing it back into your stretched hole. Kissed you sweetly as he whispered filth, knuckle-deep in your cunt).

Now, in the lambency of candlelight, he rasped promises and secrets against your goosebumped flesh. His fingers trailed over perfumed water as he knelt by side, content and warm; aeipathy subdued for now, but enduring.

"When I first saw ya, I -" he cut himself off, strained as he searched for the words. You lay silent, patient as his words ripened behind his lips; laconism blooming into ephemeral fruits. "Y'reminded me of the girls back home. Th'ones by the river or in the taverns, too smart or too busy to bother with the likes of me. Familiar, real. Beautiful."

Your breath hitched, heart swelling under your breast as your watched him struggle for the words you were so wont to hear.

"When I first saw you, you scared me," your lips twisted a little, wry, as you confessed to him. "Only, you scared me less than him."

You scoffed, water splashing as you drew your knees to your chest and tucked your head low. You looked at him, needing him to read the truth in your face as you bared yourself just as he had. "I'm sorry, that's not particularly romantic, is it? Being desperate? But it's true. And I'm so thankful for it, since otherwise I might not have- we might never have-"

The words caught like wire in your throat. Painful.

Unthinkable.

But wasn't it beautiful, that brutal honesty? Wasn't it a relief to purge the poison; to dig in and drain the bad humours like rivers swirling into estuaries.

If you expected censure, you wouldn't find it. Not from him, no. You felt his finger chuck under your chin and let him raise your head.

"I know, dormouse. I know" --------------------------------

Well, it is done. Several months later and finally posted. I'm not 100% happy with this, but I can't justify sitting on it any longer. Also, it's December and seems fitting to wrap this up before the end of the year (part i wasy my first ever COD fic).

[aemondapologistfrfr]

We're Not Kids Anymore

ward!benji x targ!fem!reader

Summary: Benji has been sent to be a ward in Kings Landing and you two grow up together. Over the years feelings grow and you each wait for the other to admit it. 

Warnings: 18+ maybe a swear word, a cup of wine, loss of virginity, oral(f), p in v

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel that I adored writing

Word Count: 5.6k

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10 years old

“Sit down and be quiet. You are representing me and the crown and I will not have you acting like a spoiled little princess.” my mother scolds and I push myself back into the seat and huff. 

“I am a spoiled princess.” I purse my lips and cross my arms. 

“Y/n, I am serious. If you act out, no flying for a fortnight.” I seal my lips shut at her words and sit with a frown. 

“Lord Blackwood.” my mother stands and I drown out the rest of the meeting. I glance to my right and see a boy sitting next to me looking equally as bored. While our parents talk we kick each other’s feet and giggle. 

“What’s your name?” he whispers. 

“Y/n. You?” I tilt my head smiling. 

“Benji.” 

“Do you wanna see a dragon?” his eyes light up with mine as he nods vigorously. We slip out of the council room as quiet as possible. My mother and his father shout after us as we sprint down the hall. Two guards scoop us up and bring us back into the council chambers. Benjis father pulls him to the side of the room while my mother pulls me to the other. 

“What did I say?” she looks down at me sternly. 

“Not to act like a spoiled princess and I didn’t.” I cross my arms. “I was going to take him to see my dragon.” I look over her shoulder and see Benji looking my way. 

“You will have plenty of time to show him your dragon. He’s to stay here with us and be our ward.” I tilt my head at her words confused. “If you two would’ve stayed and actually listened.. Go sit back down.” she shakes her head escorting me back to my seat as Benjis father does the same. 

“Princess, you honor me and my house.” his father bows his head deeply before he turns and gives Benji a pointed look. 

“I promise I will be good and listen.” Benjis voice comes from next to me and my mother smiles. 

“Your loyalty doesn’t go unnoticed and he shall be treated well here.” my mother nods her head to his father. They start talking again and I pretend to pay attention until Benji starts kicking my feet again and we silently giggle. 

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13 years old

“Mother please.” I whine as she looks at me with an unamused expression. 

“You both torment the staff and now you think you’ll be allowed to fly above the city and torment the common folk as well?” I groan rolling my eyes. 

“We were just having fun. I wouldn’t think stealing cake counted as tormenting.” I throw my head back knowing we won’t be able to leave the Keep. 

“No, you two will remain within the Keep walls.” her words final. She exits my chambers and I groan. 

I wait for a couple of minutes before I push open the secret door and enter the tunnels. After three years of constant exploring with Benji we found them and have been memorizing them ever since. I try to not be alone in them for too long because there’s so many rats and bugs but he always makes sure to shoo them away. As I start towards his chambers I hear footsteps. 

“Benji?” I whisper sticking close to the wall. I creep forward hoping I was hearing things. As I turn the corner he jumps out at me and I yelp. I push him back as he’s in a fit of laughter and I turn on my heel to go back to my chambers. 

“You should’ve seen your face.” Benji is still laughing and I huff starting to walk away. “Y/n wait.” he giggles trying to catch his breath. I hear him jog after me and he grabs my wrist. 

“What?” I turn and glare at him. 

“Are we going flying or what?” he gives me a toothy grin. 

“My mother said we can’t leave the Keep.” I sigh. He grabs my hand and sneaks us out of the nearest exit into the halls. He squats down a bit and turns to me. 

“Well get on. I’ll be your dragon for the day.” a smile spreads across my face at his words. 

“Really?” I step closer and he nods. I climb onto his back and his arms hook around my legs to keep me secure as my hands hold onto his shoulders. He stands up and I giggle. 

“Forward, Benji.” I point ahead. 

“You know I don’t speak your secret language.” I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Forward, Benji.” he starts to jog down the halls and I laugh wildly on his back. He brings us down the stairs and guards are looking at us worriedly. As he runs us down the halls my mother steps out of the throne room and is fuming. 

“What are you two doing?” she says through her teeth as Benji brings us closer. “Get off of him.” she looks to me and my feet touch the ground before I stand at his side. 

“We’re just having fun. He offered to be my dragon since I’m not allowed to see mine.” she raises her eyebrows at my words. 

“Guards.” she calls out. “Escort these two back to their own chambers and see to it that they stay there. The guard nods and we sigh following them back up the stairs. After about an hour in my chambers there’s a soft knock on my wall and Benji is slipping in to keep me company once more. 

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16 years old

I close my eyes and lean back into Benji as we fly through the skies. This is one of my favorite things we do together. He’s never been afraid of my dragon and even asks me to take him out flying without me prompting. My dragon flies us over the city and gives out soft chirps and grumbles to the common folk below. We fly around for a couple more hours before we land in the pits where we know my mother is waiting for us. 

“Your dance lessons started an hour ago.” my mother is standing there with crossed arms as we land on the ground. 

“I know how to dance.” I groan dragging my feet over to her. 

“Go get changed and meet your instructor and Benji go to the training yard. You both are late.” she shakes her head before slipping out of the pit. Once we make it back to the Keep we part ways and I groan as I see the gown they want me to wear for this lesson. My handmaidens tie me into it and I’m out of my chambers on my way to my lesson. 

“Lovely of you to join me.” my instructor says and I sigh as we start our first steps. The lesson goes on longer than I would like and once I’m dismissed I race down the stairs and out into the yard. There I spot Benji who’s hammering his sword down onto the man in front of him. I stand back and watch him with a smile. He beats the other man and begins to walk over to me with a smile. 

“Hello princess.” he hums looking down at me in my puffy dress. “Don’t you look absolutely precious in your dress.” he coos pinching my cheeks. 

“Stop.” I cross my arms looking up to him. 

“Is that a command princess?” he taunts and my cheeks flush. 

“Ugh,” I glare at him before turning on my heel. 

“And now you’re pouting.” he teases me even more as he jogs to my side. 

“You’re insufferable and I should’ve never come to see you.” I can’t hide the smile that blooms across my face. 

“Mm, but you can never stay away for long.” I roll my eyes before walking back to the Keep. 

Over the years we’ve grown closer but as we’ve gotten older our teasing has become more flirtatious. I never thought I would see Benji in a different light but what was once just wanting company has turned into something else. We’re attached at the hip and the entire castle knows it. 

“Come train with me.” Benji calls after me and I stop and turn to him. 

“Will you be able to handle it if I beat you in this dress?” I hum with a smile. 

“I would be honored.” he bows deeply to me and I walk past him to the weapons table. 

“After this I’m teaching you how to dance.” he throws his head back and laughs. 

“As you wish.” he smiles as I grab a sword and face him. I know he’s holding back and allowing me to have the upper hand. It doesn’t frustrate me because I know he knows my competitive nature and that I’ll be disgruntled if he were to train with me seriously. We giggle around the ring and the spectators offer us smiles and soft glances. 

“I win.” I smile at him with my blade pressed to his chest. 

“You may be the realms best sword princess.” he grabs the sword from my hand and places our weapons back on the table. 

“And the best dancer.” I hum as I grab his hand leading him back into the Keep. 

“Just collecting all the titles?” he chuckles squeezing my hand. 

“Of course.” I raise my chin and lead him into the empty ballroom. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” he admits sheepishly. 

“Well good thing I’m the best.” I smile up at him. I keep our hands interlocked and bring his other hand to my waist and he looks at me quickly and I chuckle bringing my other hand up to his shoulder. He looks down at me with scrunched brows as I begin to sway us in the silence. 

“This is it?” he mumbles with red cheeks as he tries to move his hand from my waist. 

“Do you not want to dance with me Benji?” I tilt my head. 

“No I- I do.” he nods his head. “There’s just no music and I don’t know-“ 

“Shush.” I shake my head with a smile and place his hand back on my waist. 

We dance around the room in silence and he slowly becomes less tense and holds me closer. I rest my head on his chest as we float around the room. I hear how fast his heart is beating and I look up to him and smile at his flushed cheeks. 

“Your cheeks are redder than they are when you’re training.” I tease him. 

“Well I don’t have the heir to the throne pressed against me when I’m in the training yard.” he pushes me back keeping my hand in his as I twirl. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” I smirk as I walk around him still twirling. 

“I’ve been to enough balls over the years that I know some of the steps. Besides wasn’t this dress made for you to twirl around?” he pulls me back to him and my hands go to his chest to steady myself. 

“I think it was just made to make me mad at how heavy it is.” I sigh looking up to him. His hands dips down and lift up my skirts just so they rise above my ankles. I look up to him happy that the weight is being held by someone else. 

“Better?” his voice low as he looks down to me. 

“Much.” I smile and offer him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” I feel his hands fist the fabric of my skirts. 

“I should go change. We have supper soon.” he backs away dropping my skirts. He leaves me in the middle of the ballroom confused and embarrassed. 

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19 years old

“I don’t want to go on a tour. Why must I find a husband now?” I slide down in the chair across from my mother. 

“To strengthen your claim and line. I’ve allowed you to push it off as long as I can but you’re turning twenty soon.” my mother shakes her head. “Either find someone or I will have to pick for you.” my eyes widen and I shake my head. 

“I’ll find someone.” I smooth my skirts before darting out of her solar. As I make my way back to my chambers my mind races at having to find a husband. I’ve never looked at men besides Benji. I push the thought from my mind and enter my chambers and collapse to my bed. 

“What’s wrong?” I jolt hearing Benjis voice from my couch. 

“My mother wants me to find a husband or she’ll find one for me.” I roll to my side so I can look at him. 

“Do you have anyone in mind?” he tilts his head and I nibble my lip shaking my head. “No? There’s no one in the Keep?” I bury my head in my blankets at his words. 

“Benji.” I groan. I wish he knew that I’m not just saying his name to quiet him but answering his question as well. 

“Hm?” he hums from the couch. “Is no one here good enough for you?” I lift my head up and glare at him. 

“My mother wants me to go on a tour to seek a husband.” I see his jaw clench and his eyes darken at my words. 

“Do you wish to be paraded around?” he sighs settling back into the couch. 

“No, but I don’t have a choice it seems.” I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to admit to Benji that I like him. I want him to say something first but I may be waiting forever. “Will you come with?” my voice small as I turn to face him once more. 

“You want me to help you find a husband?” he looks to me amused. 

“No. Yes.” I sigh wiping my face. “I don’t know, Benji. I just..” I trail off shaking my head. 

“You just what?” he prompts me to keep talking. 

“Come or don’t. I leave at the end of the week.” I wave my hand at him. “I’m going to nap before supper, come get me when it’s ready.” I roll onto my stomach and bury my head in the pillows. I feel the bed dip next to me and I turn and see Benji laying with me. 

“We used to nap all the time.” he murmurs brushing the hair off my face. 

“We’re not kids anymore.” I scoot a fraction closer to him. 

“No we’re not.” he hums kissing my forehead and holding me against him. I turn my body to face him and he pulls me against his chest. I rest my head above his heart and let the even beating lull me to sleep. 

                                   ᓚᘏᗢ

“Princess.” my handmaidens voice wakes me and I sit up blinking. “Supper is soon.” I take in her red cheeks and I know mine are the same color at the position she found us in. 

“Thank you.” I nod my head to her and she leaves my chambers quickly. I turn and look and Benji still asleep next to me. I lay down next to him once more and admire his peaceful expression. I brush his hair back and he starts to stir and slowly opens his eyes. 

“Gods, am I still dreaming?” his voice raspy as he cups one of my cheeks with his hand. 

“Do you dream about me, Benji?” my voice soft as I continue to brush his hair back. 

“Every night.” his tired eyes search mine.

“Supper is ready.” I rise from the bed so he doesn’t see the extent of my blush. 

“Someone is shy after her nap.” Benji laughs as he gets up. “Tell me, did you dream of me too?” his voice low as he comes up behind me. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of answering that.” I purse my lips and he smiles even wider. 

“You did. Look at you blushing.” he pinches my cheeks and I turn and storm out of my chambers with him close behind. “Well what was the dream about?” he teases and I groan. 

“That I was strangling you.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. 

“How intimate. Were you looking in my eyes when you did it?” his voice low as we glide down the steps. 

“Enough.” I hiss as we turn the corner into the dining hall. 

“Did you end up killing me or just kissing me?” he whispers in my ear and I shoulder past him to my seat. 

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On the tour

My mother was furious when I told her Benji was coming with me on the tour. At first I thought he wouldn’t come with me but when he saw that I wasn’t getting out of it he insisted on coming with. His presence has deterred a lot of my potential suitors but I’m not much mad at it. My mother allowed us a stop in Raventree Hall and Benji is jittery as we approach. 

“Do you think your brother would make a good match for me?” I hum trying to hide my smile as he snaps his head toward me. 

“You are not marrying my brother.” his voice stern. 

“I may.” his nostrils flare at my words. 

“I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “If you’re marrying anyone from my house it’ll be-“ he clenches his jaw and turns to look out the carriage once more. 

“Who? Your father? Would you like me to be your mother?” I laugh not trying to hide my amusement. 

“No.” his word clipped. The tension in the carriage is palpable as we approach the gates. He offers me his hand to help me out and I accept. He keeps our hands linked as we enter the main yard and his father is waiting for us. 

“Look at you. A man grown.” his father smiles. “Princess.” he bows his head to me. 

“I’m going to show her around.” his father nods with a smile as we brush past him. Benji takes his time showing me around the grounds and the halls. We end at the massive weirwood that houses hundreds of ravens and I look up at them in awe. 

“When are you going to introduce me to your brother?” I turn to him and see that he’s already watching me. 

“I won’t be.” his eyes dark. 

“Then who here is asking for my hand? The ravens?” I tilt my head with a lazy smile. 

“I am.” I blink at his words as he studies me. 

“Like you’d actually want to wed me.” I squint my eyes watching him. Gods I want him to be serious. I can send a raven back to my mother and we can go home and be wed by the next moon. 

“I do.” his features soften and my heart starts to race. 

“Why?” I ask trying to calm my nerves. 

“Because I’ve been in love with you for almost a decade now.” he steps closer to me and I tilt my head to keep our eye contact. 

“Benji, do not jest with me.” my voice soft as I search his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just never knew when to tell you and now you’re on a tour to find a husband and you asked me to come with and that just..” he shakes his head. “Marry me, Y/n.” he cups my cheeks and I nod my head in his hands. “Say it.”

“I want to marry you, Benjicot Blackwood.” I look up at him with pure adoration. 

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Back in Kings Landing

“I don’t know why you both couldn’t have decided this before I sent you on a tour.” my mother shakes her head with a smile. 

“I wanted to see my options.” Benji scoffs next to me at my words. 

“Did you? You dragged me along with you.” my mother watches us silently laughing. 

“You insisted on coming with.” I roll my eyes turning to him. 

“Regardless, I’m glad you made a decision.” my mother cuts in. “The ceremony will be at the end of the month. Should you two need anything please let me know.” she rises and leaves the council chambers. 

“So why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I fidget with the marble balls. 

“You’re intimidating and a princess of the realm.” he looks to me as if it’s obvious. “The heir to the throne. Why would you pick me? You could have anyone.” I frown at his words. 

“Benji, I’ve wanted you just as badly.” his eyes snap to mine. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he shakes his head. 

“I don’t know. I figured you met someone or something..” I trail off avoiding his eyes.

“When would I have met someone?” he chuckles. 

“When you and your little training friends go down to the street of silk.” I nibble my lip. 

“You expected me to wed someone from the street of silk? Growing up in the Red Keep made my tastes a little more refined.” he raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Well I don’t know what happens there. Maybe you had some life changing experience.” my voice soft as I look up to him with red cheeks. 

“What brought this on?” he comes to sit in the chair next to me. 

“I’m not experienced. What if you don’t like bedding me as much. I haven’t even kissed anyone.” I turn to him and he’s biting his lip to hide his smile. “Gods I shouldn’t have said anything.” I cover my face with my hands. He pries my hands away and offers me a warm smile. 

“I’ve thought about bedding you since I’ve hit puberty. You’re my nightly fantasy.” his words cause my blush to deepen. 

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I murmur looking at him. 

“Every night after I leave your chambers I go back to mine and fall back on my bed and shove my hand in my trousers. I think about you laying beneath me squirming as I move my-“ 

“Benji.” my voice breathless as I rise from the chair covering his mouth with my hand. “Are you done?” I ask exasperated lowering my hand. 

“I didn’t even get to the other one where my head is buried beneath your skirts.” he smirks at my ever reddening cheeks. “Do you touch yourself at night when you’re all alone?” my eyes widen. 

“That’s none of your business.” I huff. 

“Try it tonight.” he rises and towers above me. 

“I won’t tell you if I did or not.” I steel myself as he steps closer to me. 

“I’ll know.” his hands rest on my waist. 

“How?” I squeak as he pulls me flush against him and dips his head down to my neck.

“Cause you’ll be blushing furiously the second you see me.” he whispers against my skin before placing a soft kiss. 

“Benji,” I gasp digging my fingers into his arms. “Someone could see us.” I pull back and he chuckles. 

“Of course, princess.” his hand slides into mine and he pulls us out of the council chambers. 

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One week before wedding

Benji and I have been spending the same amount of time together as we normally do but now the energy between us is charged. Every touch has a longing behind it that has us staring at each other. Our hugs seem to linger and soon excuses fall from our lips to always be near one another. 

“I’m surprised you still want to spend so much time with me after an entire decade.” I smile at him from the couch. 

“It’ll never be enough.” my heart flutters at his words. 

“I wish you would’ve said something sooner.” I pout. 

“I had to work up the courage.” he chuckles taking a seat next to me. 

“Waiting until the last minute. We could’ve been wed by now.” I sigh turning to him. 

“We can wait one more week.” he smiles patting my hand. 

“But I want to kiss you now.” his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, do you?” his eyes glance at my lips before they meet mine again. 

“Please Benji,” I scoot closer to him. 

“Come here.” he pulls me next to him. “I’ll give you something to think about when you’re under your covers later.” he smirks. 

“Don’t tease me.” I pout. 

“But I love to see you blush.” he hovers his lips above mine. 

“I’ve changed my mind. You don’t deserve to kiss me.” I pull back. He chuckles before pulling me back to him and placing his lips on mine. He licks across my lips and I gasp as he slips it into my mouth. I turn completely and start to climb into his lap. He groans as I settle while my tongue follows his as it explores. 

“We should stop.” he squeezes my waist. 

“No.” I capture his lips again. My hands travel up his neck into his hair holding him against me. Our tongues dance slowly and I absentmindedly roll my hips. He grunts and is lifting us off of the couch. I wrap my legs around him and cling to him while our lips stay on each other. He tosses me back on my bed and looks down at me with red cheeks. 

“Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” his voice low as his eyes travel over my body. 

“Or you can stay.” I nibble my lip looking up to him. 

“Have a good night.” he lingers before he turns and walks to the tunnel entrance. 

“Benji.” I whine from my bed. He turns and looks at me one last time before shaking his head with a smile. 

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Wedding day

I look to Benji as we say our vows and my eyes fill with tears. The maester pronounces us wed and Benji pulls me against him. Our lips seal our bond and I hold him tightly. The crowd around us cheers and we slowly pull apart with flushed faces as we look to our families. 

“My beautiful wife.” he hums looking down at me while we make our way off the dais. He brings us over to our table and servants our filling our plates and cups at once. “Do you think they could spread you across the table for me?” he whispers in my ear and I cough on my wine.

“Enough.” I slide my eyes to him and he’s smirking at me. 

“I suppose I could always go under the table.” his voice only audible to me and I squeeze my thighs together at the thought. 

“Eat your food.” I roll my eyes and start with my own plate. We give each other heated looks throughout the meal until he’s rising and pulling me to the center of the room to share our first dance. 

“The first time I danced here was with you when we were six and ten.” he looks at me tenderly as we begin to sway with the soft music.

“I remember.” I hum fondly. “You ran out after I gave you a kiss on your cheek.” I giggle caressing his cheek. 

“Mm, so you’re teasing me now?” he raises an eyebrow. 

“No, I would never.” I bite my lip to hide my smile. 

“I’ll remember this later.” his voice low as my cheeks heat. We finish our dance and the rest of the guests join us for more as the next song begins. After an hour we begin to walk around and talk with guests who congratulate us. We slip out of the main doors and we walk to my chambers together. 

“Now I don’t have to sneak in through the tunnels.” he laughs opening the door for me. I watch him shut the door nibbling my lip. “Are you feeling shy now?” he says lowly walking over to me. 

“No.” my voice small as I shake my head. He cups my face and I look up to him through my lashes. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he glances at my lips and I nod my head. His lips press against mine and I sigh into him. I push my hands under his jacket feeling his muscles under his tunic. He groans into me as I lift it up and press my fingers into his skin. “Gods how are you the one teasing right now?” he mumbles kissing down my jaw. 

“I’m not.” my voice breathy as he starts to suck on my neck. “I just want to touch you.” he nips at my neck and I moan. 

“Can I take your dress off?” his hands are waiting at the laces. 

“Yes, please,” I nod my head as he slowly pulls on them. He helps the dress slide down my arms and watches as it forms a satin pile at my feet. I step out of it and he watches my every move. His eyes travel over my exposed skin until they find my pout. 

“What could you possibly be pouting about?” he chuckles placing his hands on my bare waist. 

“I want to touch your skin too.” I pull at his belt and he makes quick work of the rest of his clothes. “Thank you, husband.” I hum as my hands go to his chest. He leans down and captures me in a kiss as our chests press into one another. 

“Tell me, did you ever touch yourself?” my eyes fly open at his words. 

“Benj-“ my words stopped by a moan as his fingers dip between my thighs. 

“I think you did after you begged me to stay the other night.” he taunts swirling his fingers around my bud. “Did you come?” a whine falls from my lips as my nails dig into his arms. 

“No.” I gasp resting my head on his chest as my hips chase his fingers. “I wanted to wait for you.” his fingers move faster at my words. 

“Let me not keep you waiting any longer.” he holds me against him to support me as his fingers slide through my wetness bringing more back to my throbbing bud. 

“Benji, I-“ I whimper as I hold onto him as my legs begin to shake. 

“I got you.” his fingers start a quick rhythm and I cry out as pleasure washes through me. My legs clamp around his hand as his fingers keep moving. He chuckles as I tremble in his arms before he removes his hand. He walks us back to the bed and watches me try to catch my breath as I lay back. He settles between my thighs and I look down to him with scrunched brows. 

“What’re you doing?” I look down at him and he offers me a dark smile. 

“I’m gunna taste you.” he dips his head down and looks up to me as he licks up my slit. 

“Benji,” I gasp fisting the sheets. His hands hold my thighs open as he begins to lap at my wetness. “Yes,” I whine as my hips grind against his face. I feel him chuckle into me and I moan at the feeling. He lifts up but starts to slide his fingers through me again. 

“Let me know if you need me to stop.” I nod my head looking down at him. His tongue makes its way back to my bud as he begins to push a finger in. My body jolts at the feeling but it’s replaced with loud moans as he presses a second finger in. One of my hands tangles in his hair holding him against me as he licks at me. 

“Please, Benji yes,” I cry as I explode around his fingers. He slowly pulls his fingers out and looks up to me with a wet chin. He makes his way up to my face and I pull his lips against mine. I feel him press into my wetness and I whimper against him. 

“Are you ready?” he searches my eyes as I squirm beneath him. 

“Yes.” I nod my head. He starts to push into me and I gasp at the stretch. Every inch is stealing my breath and he presses kisses across my face until he’s fully settled in me. He kisses me softly as he brings his fingers back to my bud to slowly swirl around. I slowly start to rock my hips and he presses his forehead against mine. 

“Can I move?” he rasps. 

“Please.” I nod my head and bring his lips back to mine. He starts a slow rhythm that has me clinging onto him. His hips start to move faster and my moans begin to pour out of my mouth. His fingers swirl quicker around my bud and my pleasure slams through me. I feel his warmth begin to fill me as I continue to pulse around him. 

“You’re perfect.” he grunts still slowly pushing into me. I shudder beneath him as he pulls out and collapses next me to me. He pulls me against his chest and brushes my hair back. 

“I hope I was as good as your fantasies.” I say softly looking up to him. 

“Gods you were so much better.” he pulls me up to place a kiss on my lips once more. 

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Yesterday Seems So Far Away

Summary: Tactics and Whims in the midst of an impending war don't quite work out unless you're a throuple.

Word count: 8.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Rhaenyra is sitting by a room window, staring out into a dark night, lost in her thoughts. She is clearly troubled. Her heart had been hurt countless times, and she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She heard the door open, and she turned her head. She smiled but quickly realized that it was not one of her advisors coming to visit her with news of victories across the Seven Kingdoms. It was you and Daemon. Daemon looked at the woman before him, the two he had given his heart to and was willing to do whatever he could to protect his wives. His thoughts were in a mix as he witnessed the troubled expression and wondered what was wrong. His eyes followed her gaze, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the night outside the room. He was curious as to what had her troubled and asked softly as he sat by her side. “What is troubling you, my love..?” He asked, placing his hand on hers. “Dear, tell us what’s bothering you?” You softly asked.

Rhaenyra slowly sighed and looked at you both, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "I am worried about everything." She whispered quietly. Rhaenyra couldn't really put her feelings into words. The world seemed so fragile, and the weight of her responsibilities was overwhelming her. She was trying to make the right choices and keep everyone safe, but it just seemed like everything was falling apart. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone had a secret agenda. Her heart was heavy with stress and fear. The prince listened to her speak quietly. He could already tell that her stress had her mentally and physically exhausted. He was beginning to understand her thoughts, but he didn’t wish for her to feel that way. The crown was a dangerous thing that could easily swallow a person, and he could tell that was what was about to happen to Rhaenyra. “Shhh, quiet now..” Daemon whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “Do not let the world get to you.” He said, gently taking her into his arms. Daemon placed a comforting hand on her cheek and looked at her with eyes full of love. It was one of the worst things to see either of his wives troubled by stress. The last thing he wanted was for you two to have to suffer. “My love, listen to me, you’re doing everything you can to keep the kingdoms safe, and I’m so proud of you for that. We are always here for you, no matter what may come.” You told her softly with a reassuring smile, your hand still placed on her cheek.

Early the next morning, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, having just woken up next to Rhaenyra and Daemon. You yawned and stretched but didn't move too much so as not to disturb your partners. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind and you couldn't help but worry about her. Rhaenyra was always a strong woman, but you could see that she was carrying so much weight, and you hated seeing her like that. You knew that the crown must be heavy, especially now during the dance of dragons. Rhaenyra was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on the map of the Seven Kingdoms laid out before her. She was tracing her fingers across the coastlines of the Realm, studying it and trying to plan out their next move. She was clearly still consumed by her worries and responsibilities. You could see this and came up behind her, pressing a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, giving Rhaenyra a small bow. As they approached her, she could see that they looked nervous and worried. They didn't say anything, as they waited for her to speak. She immediately felt their anxiety but tried not to show it. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" Rhaenyra asked with a soft smile. She tried to hide her own worries and fears and to be strong for her sons. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchanged a look before Lucerys spoke to her, his tone was nervous yet sincere. "We wish to volunteer to go and gather more allies…" Lucerys gulped, hesitant to say the next words. He held his breath and waited for a reply from her. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other nervously again, before turning their attention back to their mother. Jacaerys spoke up finally, his voice steady as he was confident in this choice. “We have decided to go and forge alliances on our own. We have discussed it between ourselves, and we have decided to go to Storm's end and the North.” He said, speaking quickly and nervously. His eyes were fixed on everyone, waiting for a reaction.

You could feel something about Lucerys going to Storm's End, like a premonition or a bad feeling. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something about it just felt off. You decided to trust your instincts and speak up. You walked closer to Rhaenyra, wanting to pull her aside and speak with her privately. You whispered in your wife’s ear, “I have a bad feeling about Lucerys going to Storm’s End. Something just doesn't feel right about it.” Your voice was soft, yet filled with a mixture of worry and concern. You didn't want Rhaenyra to overreact, but you also felt like you had to speak up and say something. "I trust him," Rhaenyra whispered, giving your hand a squeeze as she leaned in to speak. Something about going to Storm's End just didn't feel right, but she tried to push those thoughts away. She had always taught her sons to be strong and confident, and she didn't want to undermine that by showing her own doubts. She also trusted Jacaerys to look out for his brother, and she was confident in their abilities to forge the alliances they needed.

Rhaenyra slowly turned her head to stare at Lucerys. Her face was solemn she knew that you had a good gut instinct, and she also knew that she shouldn’t ignore your concerns. She spoke carefully, trying to choose her words carefully. “But if you really feel that Lucerys shouldn’t go, then you have a good reason. Tell them. I will make adjustments in our plan.” A few more months had passed, with the tide of war slowly shifting in the Black's favor having intercepted the supplies to the Green capital. The news that came through the reports filled the couple with a sense of relief, knowing that the efforts were paying off. Rhaenyra can't help but allow herself a small smile as news of the victories comes in. The war is still far from over, but the tide is slowly turning in her favor. Having managed to intercept the supplies going to King's Landing, preventing them from reaching the Green base of operation. This means that the Green forces are stretched thin and they have a disadvantage on both land and sea. The Queen feels a sense of relief wash over her, knowing that everything is making progress. She can only hope this continues.

"I'm glad to hear about our victories. But I must admit, I'm worried about the common people. I know that we're fighting for the Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't help but think about all those people dying. And all those who lost their homes and loved ones… It breaks my heart. Do you have any idea what we can do to help them… to alleviate their suffering?" You ask your partners with a genuine concern in your voice. Rhaenyra sighs deeply as she hears your genuine concern. She understood the concern about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the war, it breaks her heart too. She knows that there is little that can be done now, but once winning the Crown, she intends to do as much as she can to rebuild the kingdom and help those who have suffered. "I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have to focus on fighting this war. We will rebuild when it is over, I promise." The Queen replies solemnly.

Daemon paused as he listened to your words, and a solemn expression quickly covered his face as he thought about the innocent people suffering the most from the war. He listened to you, his hands clasping your shoulder as he stared at you with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he spoke. "We have to win the war, that is the only way to stop the suffering of our subjects, that's the best way to help them." He paused for a beat before a pained expression crossed his face, "We cannot allow the Greens to win." Rhaenyra looks at you thoughtfully as you suggest doing more than their part. She appreciates the concern but also the initiative taken to help the common folks. The Queen sees the value in your efforts. Despite the war they are fighting, the Realm is still their responsibility and they must look out for the people within it. Despite not being able to act on it currently, Rhaenyra is open to exploring possible ways for them to help the common people during times of war.

Although the war has brought about great losses and suffering to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, you were determined to help them in any way you could. Over the next few weeks, you dedicated yourself to providing aid and support for the common folk, who have been hit hard by the conflict. You arrange for food and supplies to be sent to villages and towns throughout the land, providing relief for those who have been struggling as a result of the hostilities. Your efforts gain the recognition and appreciation of many of the locals and even win some of them to Rhaenyra's side. Daemon was glad to hear the news of how you were helping the common people, they were the ones taking the brunt of the war and needed all the help they could get. He had heard of how the locals were praising your actions and felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his love doing good for the people. In the weeks that followed, Daemon would join you in some of your efforts, doing all in his power to help the innocent people of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you making sure not to let a single person go unhelped.

You paused as your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden feeling ill and your stomach had a sharp pain. This sudden sickness had struck you by surprise, and you could feel the nausea overwhelming you. You felt weak and felt the room begin to spin around you as you gripped your stomach. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were immediately concerned when they noticed your sudden illness. Both were quick to your side and taking your hand, gently stroking it as Rhaenyra looked at you with worried eyes. "My love, what is it? Are you feeling alright? Rhaenyra said with a concerned look on her face, clearly worried for your well-being. You groaned as the nausea became overwhelming, and you gripped your stomach tighter while letting out a small cough. You managed to raise your head to look at both of them, your eyes were heavy and you looked washed out. A small sweat on your forehead, you attempted to smile at the two of them, but your efforts was in vain as you felt more ill. Daemon was by your side watching closely, his eyes filled with concern for your well-being. He placed a hand on your forehead briefly, and could feel your body burn up. "I-I'm fine."

The Queen was quick to notice the symptoms that you were experiencing. Your body temperature felt hot to the touch, along with the sweat and cough were signs enough that you weren't well. She glanced over to Daemon, their worried faces were telling enough. They knew you weren't okay. "My love, you are not fine," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice. "Let us go see a maester about this." You nodded weakly, as you grasped tightly onto Rhaenyra's hands for the support you needed. You could barely stand up on your own, your legs were shaky and you felt as if you would faint. Despite your weakness, there was no denying how ill you were, and a maester was the only answer. Daemon supported you on one side, his hand tightly grasping yours. Rhaenyra gently wrapped her arm around you, while Daemon supported you on your other side to hold you up while they walked her to the maester's quarters. Both of your partners were concerned to see the state that you were in, it was clear that you were very ill and needed medical care. In the moments it took them to travel there, the Queen spoke softly to you. "My love, stay with me. I am right here, nothing will happen to you."

Daemon's hand grasped yours tightly as they led you through the halls, taking you toward the Grand Maester's office. As they reached the office, the Grand Maester stepped towards you, his expression concerned as he observed the condition you found yourself in. "What seems to be the problem, my Lady?" The Grand Maester asked, his eyes scanning the three of them, before narrowing at you. "Our wife has fallen ill, but we don't know with what," Daemon said, his voice serious as he watched the Grand Maester's expression. He could tell that the man's concern mirrored their own, the expression on his face was enough for him to know. You remained quiet next to him, letting out a small cough, while still clinging onto the Queen's hand. You smiled weakly as the maester approached, Rhaenyra's grip on your hands had given you some form of comfort, you were thankful that you could be able to lean on Daemon and Rhaenyra when you needed it most. Daemon's presence by your side was also a comfort, knowing that he was beside you, keeping his presence close. The maester's words alerted all of them in a quick motion, and Daemon spoke up again. "She doesn't feel well, she is nauseous and feels like she couldn't stand on her own," Daemon explained for you.

"I see." The Grand Maester's expression remained serious, observing your demeanor as you clung to your partners. His eyes darted from you to Daemon. When Daemon explained the symptoms you were experiencing, the Grand Maester sighed, before nodding to himself, as if something had just fallen in place. "May I speak with her in private, please?" The Grand Maester requested. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked at you with concern, yet neither said anything as they awaited your response. Despite the feeling of nausea, you forced yourself to nod as the Grand Maester asked to speak with you privately. Your lips curved upward, and a weak smile was still possible on your face. You had a feeling of what the maester was going to say but decided to let him say it, you would not deny any help you were offered at this point.

The Grand Maester led you to a secluded room, away from Rhaenyra and Daemon. They all sensed the possible nature of the subject the Maester might bring up but remained silent as the two entered the room. The Grand Maester motioned for you to sit on one of the seats in the room, his look was sympathetic. "Now, dear Lady, I must ask you some questions." The Maester began, his tone was kind and patient. You sat on one of the chairs, feeling even more dizzy and ill than before, your mind was a blur and you could barely think straight. The room seemed to spin once more, and you thought you might faint. You gripped the sides of the chair, to keep still, and glanced up at the maester, feeling yourself getting tired. "Of course." You said to the maester in a small voice of your fatigue, your breath coming out in shallow rasps. The Grand Maester studied the condition you were in, with signs of nausea, weakness and fatigue. He sensed the possibility of one specific diagnosis given your symptoms. It was a diagnosis that they were all hoping it wasn't true right now, but deep down, they knew it could possibly that. "My Lady…" The Maester began again. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

You paused for a moment, struggling to recollect your memories, it was all a bit of a blur to you due to the large fight taking place. You were exhausted at this point, even thinking was taking a toll on you. But you remembered, it had been a while since you had last had your moon's blood, far too long than it should have been. "I don't remember exactly, but it has been some time. Why?" You asked the maester with a faint look of confusion, feeling the weakness wash over you. The Grand Maester knew that he had his answer. His expression turned somber and his voice lowered to a somber tone. He didn't want to deliver the news, but someone had to. The Maester could only see the sorrowful and concerned faces when he revealed the truth. "Dear Lady," He began again. "My guess is that there might be a possibility that you are with a child. Do not lose hope, however, my Lady, my examination was not definite. I shall perform some tests and will confirm it."

When the Grand Maester emerged from the small room when the tests were done, his expression was grim, and the faces of Daemon and Rhyraena were also somber. Daemon was watching the maester with a keen eye, he was still on high alert, but he knew deep down the maester would confirm what he already feared. "The Lady of Dragonstone is pregnant with a child." The Maester spoke, and both Daemon and Rhaenyra remained silent as if they were still unable to accept it. They had suspected as much, but the confirmation made it even more real for them. The tense atmosphere remained, as they remained with the silent news for a few moments. Daemon took the lead again, as he took a step toward the Grand Maester. "How far along is she?" He asked with a solemn expression, his eyes fixed on the Maester. The Grand Maester looked back to Daemon, he saw the genuine concern and care for his partner in his eyes. Despite the severity of the situation, he had a sense of understanding that Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to be there for their wife during the pregnancy. The Maester was quick to give your partners the information he found of your pregnancy. "She is about three months along, we can say she is halfway there." the Maester answered in a serious tone that matched Daemon's as he kept his gaze low.

The two of them entered the room with a sense of quietness to them, both of them were filled with concern and worry, and their steps were gentle as they walked towards you. You were no doubt in a fragile state of your pregnancy and their presence could only be a form of comfort to you at this point. Their eyes scanned the room as they approached, the room was quiet except for your soft breathing. You were still seated in one of the chairs in the room, you were clearly in a fragile state given your exhaustion and nausea. You kept your breaths slow and deep, you could still feel some nausea, but the feeling was slowly beginning to lessen. You could hear Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly approaching, their presence alone was enough to calm you down. Your eyes met theirs as they approached, you took note of the worry in their eyes and the gentleness with which they treated you. You were grateful for their presence. Each of you was filled with worry and concern, the pregnancy felt more real than ever - which was a blessing, but the thought of bearing a child under such circumstances was both a blessing and a curse. Your thoughts were mixed, and your mind was still foggy from the news. "I don't wish anyone to find out yet."

The two of them could feel the fatigue and discomfort that which you were facing, and so they remained a good distance from you, trying to avoid causing you any discomfort. Daemon understood the concern about the news being released to the world, so he did not want to rush into releasing the news so soon. He knew you were still in a delicate place, and wanted to ensure your well-being. Rhaenyra spoke gently to you. "We understand, no one shall learn the news until you are feeling better, we will tell no one our news." She said with a reassuring smile. "We would never tell anyone about this, your secret is safe with us," Daemon replied to you, your concern was evident through your expression and his voice held a level of kindness as he spoke, Daemon knew the stress and exhaustion that came with the news and decided to try and calm you down. The Greens were bound to know the news, after all, the Grand Maester could not keep such a thing hidden for long. This news had been leaked to the Greens, and then it had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, and the Green faction had all the more reason to oppose you now. The people loved that you three were having a child, especially in this situation. Your pregnancy was seen as a blessing by the little people, the Greens hated it, but the small folks were praising it.

The small folk praised the pregnancy, not only for the reason that it was a blessing for you, Rhaenyra, and Daemon's marriage, but also because it symbolized the new era and new hope that would come with the child. The small folk would stand by the Black side, for you were the ones offering hope and prosperity to the common people. You were aware that Greens would oppose your pregnancy, but they could not deny its potential and the possibility of a new hope it brought with it. The child carried within you would change the entire scope of the conflict. The Greens are clearly dissatisfied with the news, in fact, the Greens find themselves completely appalled at the news. The knowledge of a child only made it more certain that they would oppose the Blacks, for this would be an outright declaration to crown Rhaenyra as Queen.

Otto attempts to sway the people back to their side, he tries everything to sway them away from the Blacks. However, the people were unwavering in their devotion to your pregnancy, and the Blacks, did not heed his words and simply ignored Otto. The Black supporters would have their devotion to the Blacks further confirmed, and would find themselves even more set in their choice to defend your pregnancy and support the Blacks. Larys would mention that he had a possible spy named Ada, which was no secret, as everyone knew about his network of spies across the seven kingdoms. He would go on to further mention how he was able to influence the thoughts of people and alter their views possiably, using this method to his advantage he would propose using the spy to sway some of the people's favor. He would offer his services to Otto as the two planned on how to combat the growing support for the Blacks and the unborn child.

Ada had infiltrated one of the inns near Dragonstone where the Black's supporters would often gather to exchange information and show their support for the Black's cause. The spy observes the people of the inn, noting down the conversations and thoughts, and listening to the concerns and what the perceptions of the Greens were. Particularly watching out for any whispers or conversations concerning your pregnancy, and how the common people felt about it. She would report all the findings back to Otto. During the next few weeks, the spy worked late into the night in the kitchens, before slipping some poison into the tea secretly, she managed to do it discreetly, slipping it inside the cup of tea that she had learned was part of your nightly routine without anyone suspecting anything. Delivering it to you before being dismissed for the night just to quickly leave without a second thought. You were feeling quite a bit better after resting for a while, you had no more nausea and the feeling of exhaustion was slowly beginning to lessen slightly. However, you still felt a little weak, the fatigue was still evident in your expression. You were currently sitting on one of the chairs in your shared room, trying to remain comfortable as you did so. You were not feeling as terrible as before but were still in a fragile state.

You had drank the tea given to you, unaware of the poisonous properties, and slowly you were suffering from the effects of the poison slowly spreading throughout your body. You began to experience discomfort and nausea again, with chills beginning to set in. You began to feel weak and lightheaded, and your fatigue became more profound. Rhaenyra and Daemon would find you sick and in an almost unconscious state, the pregnancy had weakened you already, and now the poison made things worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces both turned grim, and their expressions grew solemn as they saw your fragile state of health when they entered the room. The exhaustion and fatigue were evident within you, along with the slight nausea and chills that were setting in. Your weak and lightheaded state caused greater concern for both of them, the pregnancy had already been taking its toll on you, and they feared what might happen to you and the unborn child. "We have to get the grandmaester right away," Daemon spoke firmly, taking note of your state. He could see the sudden sickness taking root and growing stronger and stronger, and the more time it had, the worse the effects would become. His words seemed to indicate that he had a gut feeling about how serious this could be, and a sense of urgency began to manifest in him.

They both knew they needed a Maester, to examine and attend their partner. Both Daemon & Rhaenyra frantically ordered a Grandmaester to come immediately. It was their worst fear realized, but they had to act quickly. You and the unborn child were suffering from the effects, they could not afford to lose you both. The order for a Maester had been heeded, and the Grand Maester soon entered the room and moved towards you. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained aside as the Maester examined you, they were both still in a state of panic, they prayed the Grand Maester would have good news for them, that he would be able to save you and the unborn child. Their hope remained that a maester would have knowledge that could cure you without harming the child. Both you and the baby meant the world to them. The Grand Maester examined you, observing your symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, nausea and chills. The poison was slowly taking hold of your body and was the most likely culprit of your current condition, the poison was spreading in your system at rapid pace. The Grand Maester, in all of his knowledge, knew that the poison was not an easy matter to deal with, but he had to find a way to cure it without harming you or the babe. Knowing your safety and well-being was foremost in everyone's mind, most importantly in the minds of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The Grand Maester worked immediately to counteract the poison, attempting to find an antidote or remedy that could neutralize it enough without harming you or your child. The curing process was risky and difficult, especially given the fragility of their partner and the pregnancy, so the Grand Maester had to be extra cautious to not make the effects worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon watched in silence, their eyes were fixed on the Grand Maester with intensity as the process took place. Their expressions were stoic yet worried, trying to keep strong for not only you but also their unborn child. The Grand Maester's efforts to counteract the poison continued for what seemed like ages. He worked tirelessly, monitoring both you and the unborn child's health to ensure the safety was not further compromised. After a significant period, he finally managed to find an antidote that effectively counteracted the poison's effects. He proceeded to administer the remedy, carefully observing your condition and waiting to see the impact it had on your health and the baby's.

The Grand Maester managed to find an effective antidote that helped counter the effects of the poison, allowing you to begin to recover. It took time, and the Grand Maester had to monitor your condition closely, making sure the antidote did not have any adverse effects. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained present in the room, watching intently as you began to show signs of recovery. Rhaenyra's expression relaxed, her tense demeanor from before had eased somewhat and she seemed more hopeful. As your condition improves, Rhaenyra realizes the need to find out what happened and how the poison ended up in your tea. She looks at Daemon and quietly speaks to him. "My love, we need to find out how this happened. Find out who put poison in our dearest's tea. The culprit must be found and brought to justice. Daemon nodded his head, knowing the gravity of the situation. He understood the need to get to the bottom of it.

Daemon nodded in agreement as he listened to Rhaenyra's words, he knew she was right. They needed to find out what happened and who was responsible for putting poison in their partner's tea. His expression hardened as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew what needed to be done…the culprit needed to be found and brought to justice, and he was determined to do just that. "I'll find out who did this," Daemon said sternly as he locked eyes with Rhaenyra, his determination and anger were evident in his voice.

The atmosphere was tense as the Black Council gathered, the events that had taken place left an uneasy feeling over the group that lingered in the air. No one could deny the gravity that loomed over them as they all assembled, some faces looked tired, some still held an expression of anger and some showed relief. The Black Council had gathered amidst the storm of chaos, their conversations now held an air of importance. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the Black Council table, her expression stoic and filled with a sense of authority. She surveyed the group and the faces of her trusted council members, she could see the varying emotions on their faces as they sat before her. From the tired expressions to the ones full of anger and relief. Her eyes flicked between each and every one of them, waiting to hear their reports on the current situation.

As you made your entrance into the room, the atmosphere was immediately filled with an air of solemnness and tension. Though you were supposed to be resting, you couldn't stay away as you were compelled by guilt for what happened. The coldness and detachment in your expression didn't go unnoticed as you joined the Black Council, and Daemon and Rhaenyra, despite being relieved that you looked better, were concerned about your behavior and well-being. Despite your exhaustion and the recent events that had taken place, was present and sat between Daemon and Rhaenyra at the table. Your expression was cold and distant as you looked over the other members of the Black Council, your eyes lacked the warmth that was usually present. Your gaze was firm and determined, but there was a sense of pain lingering beneath the surface.

Daemon moved toward you, his expression filled with concern. He knew you were supposed to be resting, but here you were, showing up to the Black Council meeting and acting cold. He could tell you felt guilty for what had happened, and it was clear you needed rest and time to recover, but he knew you felt compelled to be here as well. He gently took hold of your arm, attempting to pull you aside for a moment. Seeing the cold expression on your face and the firmness in your eyes, Daemon couldn't help but immediately go to you, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Darling…you should be resting," he said gently, looking at you as if pleading with you, trying to persuade you to let them take care of things. You looked up at Daemon for a brief moment, your gaze softening for a moment. You understood his concern for you and the baby, you could see it in his eyes. Despite the firmness on your face, you couldn't help but feel the need to be here in the Black Council meeting even in your weakened state. You nodded your head in acknowledgment of Daemon's words of concern, but you gently placed your hand on his, silently reassuring him that you wanted to be here before you sat down. Your tone filled with a fierce sense of determination to be in the meeting. Your words were sharp, leaving no room for debate. "I will rest when the matter is handled. Until then, I will need to be here. Please do not fret over me, my love," you said firmly to him, your voice filled with a certain authority.

Daemon looked back at you with a mixture of concern and a reluctant acceptance. He could see the determination in your eyes, and he knew that nothing would change your mind. He nodded to you, reluctantly at first, but then with a sense of understanding. "Very well then," he said with a sigh, his eyes softening slightly as he took your hand in his. He understood how important this was to you, and he didn't want to add to your stress. Later on into the night as you lay there, sandwiched between Daemon and Rhaenyra, you could feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The events of the day had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, concern, and uncertainty. However, being close to your partners, their bodies providing warmth and a sense of security, made you feel a little more at ease but couldn't seem to quiet your mind like normal causing you to get up carefully and step closer to the window. Daemon and Rhaenyra were both sleeping peacefully, oblivious to your turmoil. They seemed content, but you were too worried to sleep like they were, you had a weight on your shoulders, and it was keeping you up at night. Daemon stirred slightly as you stepped closer to the window, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he saw you standing alone. He silently sat up in bed, watching you with a look of concern.

Seeing you standing alone by the window, Daemon could feel the tension emanating from you. He slipped out of bed and approached you, his movements gentle and deliberate. He stood behind you with a sense of concern and understanding, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. "What's troubling you? Why can't you sleep?" Daemon asked you gently, his voice tinged with worry. He hated seeing you so troubled and wanted to help alleviate your pain if you'd let him. The feeling of Daemon's touch was grounding. You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. You took a deep breath and turned your head slightly to look at him as you responded to his question. "It's the incident, the poison that was put in the tea… the thought that someone could do that to me, to us… it's troubling," you admitted softly, your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. His expression darkened as you explained your worries about the incident and the poison. Daemon gently drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace as a sense of anger and protectiveness took over his features. He hated it as much as you did, and he wanted nothing more than to shield you from any harm. "I know…I know," he said, holding you close, his voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and anger. "But I will not let anything come to you. Neither will Rhaenyra. We will keep you safe, I promise."

You allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold. You nodded in understanding, knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra's support and protection meant a lot to you. However, there was a flicker of a small, wry smile on your face as you responded softly. "I don't doubt your determination, my love," you said, your voice filled with affection, your eyes glinting with a hint of playfulness. "But… you do understand I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself too, you know." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at your words, his expression softening slightly as he felt a sense of admiration for your determination. He grinned as he replied, a note of affection in his voice. "Oh, darling, I know you can protect yourself. You're a force to be reckoned with, but let us take care of the problem, yes?" He reached out to caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and respect. "We just want to keep you safe. You and our child." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle softly as you spoke, acknowledging your determination and strength. He knew you were no damsel in distress, and he recognized your ability to take care of yourself. "I know you can protect yourself," he said with a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Yet I will always want to guard and protect you. Our enemies will rue the day they ever threatened you or our unborn child," he said, a touch of steel creeping into his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you heard Daemon's reply. You reached up to place your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. "You do love being the knight rescuing the fair lady," you teased, your voice filled with affection and a hint of teasing. "Thank you, my love. I am lucky to have your protection," you added, a flicker of sincere appreciation shining in your eyes. Daemon chuckled at your remark, enjoying your teasing banter. He gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, a soft and tender gesture. "Aye, rescuing fair maidens is just one of many of my talents," he responded with a wry smile. His expression grew more serious as you thanked him for his protection. His eyes held a gentle and caring gaze as he looked at you, his hand squeezing yours softly. "And I'm always here to protect those I love. You and our unborn child are my priority." The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, becoming more intimate and serious. Your eyes locked onto Daemon's, a flicker of regret and sincerity shining through. "Daemon," you started, your voice low and sincere. "I want to apologize. For earlier, for distancing myself and being cold. I should have let you in more, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings. You're more than just my lover; you're my partner, my confidant. And I value your support immensely."

Daemon's expression softened as he listened to your words, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and affection. He could sense the sincerity behind your apology and the regret in your voice. "Darling…I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I understand that you've been under a lot of stress and going through a lot. But please, from now on, let me in. Share your worries and thoughts with me. You are never a burden to Nyra or me, and I want to be there for you, just like you are for Rhaenyra and me," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart, knowing that your distance had affected your partners as well. You reached out and gently took his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to shut you out and keep everything inside. From now on, we'll face everything together, as a team."

The months had gone by, and your pregnancy proceeded smoothly. As the time drew closer to your due date, you were constantly checked and monitored by the Grand Maester, given how risky the poison had been for you and the baby. Rhaenyra and Daemon never left your side; their constant presence provided you with comfort and reassurance. As the day of childbirth approached, your contractions grew more intense, and soon enough, you were ushered into the birthing room by the midwife and Grand Maester. In the birthing room, the atmosphere was tense as the midwife and Grand Maester prepared you for childbirth. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood by your side, their hands tightly clutching yours as you went through each contraction, offering their support and doing everything they could to try and soothe your pain. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice filled with love and worry. You squeezed Daemon's hand tightly, your grip almost painful but he did not flinch. Rhaenyra took a wet towel and wiped your forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement and support as well. “You’re doing well, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra's voice was steady and calming. “Just breathe through it, just like we practiced.” Daemon winced slightly as you squeezed his hand tightly during the contraction but held strong, his gaze filled with a mix of worry and admiration for his love's strength.

"You're an absolute warrior, darling," he said to you tenderly, his voice filled with awe and pride. Rhaenyra continued to wipe your forehead with the warm towel, her whispered words of encouragement filling the room with a sense of reassurance and love. She whispered soothing words and guided you with her words, supporting you through each contraction. You took deep breaths, feeling the pain and contractions growing more intense. You gritted your teeth as you shook your head, your grip on Daemon's hand never faltering. "I… I don't know if I can do this. It’s too much…" you managed to gasp out, your voice filled with a hint of despair. Then, you let out a low groan as your body tensed with another painful contraction. As the contractions grew more intense, Daemon tightened his grip on your hand, his heart clenching in worry and solidarity. "You can do this," he spoke firmly, his gaze locked onto you. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've got this. Just a little bit longer," he said, his voice filled with determination and belief in your strength.

The Grand Maester observed your condition closely, the pain and exhaustion evident on your face. The contractions were growing in intensity, and he could tell the childbirth would be difficult and dangerous. He turned to Rhaenyra and Daemon, his voice filled with concern and caution. "My Queen, my Prince, I fear the baby is in distress and the contractions are growing too painful. We may need to consider a cesarean section to ensure the safe delivery of both the mother and the babe," the Grandmaster said cautiously. Hearing the suggestion, your eyes widened and flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. You vehemently shook your head and protested against it. "No... No, I refuse," you gasped out, your voice a mix of pain and determination. As the Grand Maester spoke, both Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately tensed, worry etched across their faces. Rhaenyra's grip on your hand tightened, Daemon's heart filling him with dread and anxiety. He glanced at Rhaenyra before turning back to you with a mixture of worry and understanding. "Darling, the Grand Maester only wants what's best for you and the baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "Please, darling. Let's consider all options to ensure a safe delivery."

After refusing the c-section, you insisted on giving birth naturally. You ordered the Grand Maester out of the room and had the midwives fill a warm tub with water. Once everything was prepared, you let yourself be helped into the water, your body finding a little relief from the pain as the water gently cradled you. You reached out for Daemon's hand, your grip tight, while Rhaenyra remained by your side, ready to support you. Daemon turned to you, his voice filled with love and worry. "My love, do you truly want to go through this without the Grand Maester's assistance? The risk…" Once you finally allowed yourself to get into the water, you felt a slight relief from the intense contractions as the warm water enveloped you. Your grip on Daemon's hand tightened further, squeezing it firmly as though seeking his strength through your own. Rhaenyra stayed by your side as well, her presence a silent comfort and support for you. The midwives had left the room, leaving the three of them alone. Daemon's voice, laced with worry, rang out as he questioned your decision.

You nodded your head resolutely, your eyes filled with determination and resolve. "Yes, Daemon," you said softly, your voice betraying your pain. "I want to try to do this without the Grand Maester's assistance. I trust you and Rhaenyra to help me through. I know the risk, but I have faith in us. We can do this together." As the hours passed and your contractions intensified, the pain becoming almost unbearable, you began to waver in your decision. "I… I don't know if I can do this, my love…" you gasped out, your voice filled with despair. Yet, you steeled yourself and shook your head, your expression determined. "But… I have to." Daemon squeezed your hand, his expression one of love and encouragement. "You can do it, my love. Just a little more. You're almost there." After what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a wailing baby. Rhaenyra carefully placed the newborn baby, a healthy baby girl with tufts of blonde hair, in your arms. Tired but relieved smiles spread across their faces as they witness the arrival of their child.

Daemon stared down at the newborn child in your arms, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, wonder, and a profound sense of overwhelming love. He reached out, gently cradling the baby's head in his hand, his touch filled with tender adoration. His gaze flicked between the baby's face and yours, his heart swelling with an unquantifiable amount of love and pride. As the sound of the newborn's cry filled the room, a wave of relief washed over Daemon and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked at you and the infant with a mixture of love and wonder in your eyes, your own exhaustion mixed with the radiant joy of a mother. Daemon's eyes widened in awe and pride, his fingers tracing gently over the baby's soft skin. "You did it, sweet girl," Daemon whispered tenderly to you, his voice filled with admiration and love. "She's…. perfect."

Tears streamed down your face as you held their newborn daughter in your arms, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion, joy, and awe. You looked up at Daemon and Rhaenyra, your voice filled with overwhelming emotions. "She's here… she… she's real." You whispered, your voice choked with tears. You held the precious baby girl in your trembling arms, feeling a well of love and joy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Rhaenyra's heart swelled with pure joy and love as she watched the tender scene unfolding before her. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice filled with tender contentment. "Yes… she's real, and she's beautiful," Rhaenyra spoke softly, her gaze flickering between you and the tiny bundle of joy they had brought into the world. Daemon's eyes softened as he watched the scene unfold, his heart filled with an inexplicable love and gratitude. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of damp hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. "She is real. She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and a hint of awe. Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her own eyes gleaming with adoration and love as she gently wrapped her arms around you, creating a tight embrace.

As the three of them embraced, cherishing the precious moment together, Daemon leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "I am in awe of you, my love. Your strength, your determination… you're a force of nature. And now we have this beautiful, miraculous girl, all because of you. I will forever count myself lucky to have you ladies in my life." You leaned into the embrace, letting the exhaustion and joy wash over you. You were overwhelmed by the love and adoration that filled the room, the feeling of your family surrounding you creating an indescribable sense of fulfillment. You looked down at the newborn daughter, your eyes filled with love and wonder. You gently caressed the baby's soft cheek, your touch filled with a mother's tender adoration.

"I love you, sweet girl."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal scandal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 15

Words: 1,633 (also on AO3)

Prompt: Royal and/or Modern AU

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Rated: T

Tags: Modern AU; Royal AU; Rock star Eddie; Royal Steve; Secret relationship; Fluff and angst

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

The fucking photo is everywhere. 

Eddie knows he should stop checking, should probably delete all his social media accounts and drop his phone in the ocean, maybe throw himself right after. Maybe he would, if that would change anything. He groans, slamming the phone down on the table and burying his face in his hands. 

They've been so careful, and for what? 

One second of weakness, one stolen moment by the backstage entrance of Eddie’s last gig, and everything is falling to pieces. He should’ve known better. You're never really alone, no matter how safe you deem yourself. Steve even less than Eddie. 

“I mean, not to be a smartass,” Chrissy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She's seated on the opposite side of his kitchen table, laptop in front of her. “But you do realize you could've just waited until you got to your hotel room?” 

Eddie stops pulling at his own hair to give her a tired look. 

“I missed him, okay? Between my Europe tour and his stupid state visit to Asia, it was the first time in months that we saw each other. It was literally just one kiss.” 

Chrissy gives him a look.

“Eddie, I love you,” she says flatly. “But it looks like you're trying to suck out his tonsils with your tongue.” 

Eddie’s forehead joins the phone on the table. 

“I know,” he groans. “Fuck. What do we do now, Chris?” 

She doesn’t answer right away, and that scares him more than anything. Chrissy always knows what to do.

“Maybe it won't be as bad,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I mean the picture is quite grainy. You're pretty recognizable with your stage outfit and the tattoos, but Steve? He could be just some guy, really.”

“Yeah, no,” Eddie huffs, picking up his phone again. His private messages are blowing up, but he doesn’t find it in himself to open them. “Have you met those royal fangirls? Batshit crazy, man. They have the shape of his moles memorized and all.” 

“You have the shape of his moles memorized,” Chrissy provides. 

Eddie glowers at her, and her face goes soft.

“Hey,” she says, shutting her laptop and taking his hand. “We'll figure it out, I promise. I know it looks bad now, but-” 

She's interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. 

“That'll be the pizza,” she smiles. “I'll get it, you stay seated. Let's talk about this after dinner, I'm sure things will look a lot less dire on a full stomach.”

Eddie has half a mind to ask her how pizza is supposed to fix a single one of their problems. But he knows she's only trying to help, so he doesn’t say anything and shoots her a tight smile as she flounces out. 

The door opens.

“Oh, hi,” Chrissy says, and Eddie knows from the way her voice goes strained that it's not the pizza. “Eddie didn't mention you were- hey, wait, you can't just-” 

Eddie is already out of his chair and halfway around the table when Hopper comes stomping into the kitchen. He looks intimidating as ever in his shades and dark suit with the royal sigil pinned to the lapel. Today, he's also looking particularly pissed. 

“You!” he barks as soon as he spots Eddie. “You're coming with me. Move.” 

Behind him, Chrissy hovers in the doorway, wide-eyed and pale. 

“I can't,” Eddie says lamely. “I have pizza on the way.” 

Hopper looks at him like he's silently regretting all career choices that have led him to this moment.

“What you have,” he says,” is an appointment at the palace. Now c’mon, or you're paying for my parking ticket.” 

*

Eddie hasn't been to the palace more than a few times, and as on all of his previous visits, the paintings and the chandeliers and the gold and brocade of it all make him feel uncomfortable and on edge. So what if he's been secretly dating the crown prince right under the nose of the public for months? He's still allowed to think that the exaggerated splendor surrounding everything royal is a remnant of a long dead feudal system and a waste of tax money with no place in the modern world. It's called nuance, thank you very much.

Hopper nudges him into a lavish salon or drawing room or whatever the fuck they're called - one with a crackling fire and plush armchairs and a small fortune in antiques lining the walls - and wordlessly pulls the door shut behind him. In one of the chairs, gazing at his phone, side profile lit by the golden firelight, is Steve. 

“Remember all those times Munson said fuck the monarchy?” he says without looking up. It takes Eddie a very confused second to realize he's reading from the comments under the damned photo. “Never realized he meant that literally. Charming. They even got creative with the emoji, look.” 

He flips the phone around. Eddie sinks into the armchair across from him and winces. “I know, I know. So, on a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?” 

“Hm?” Steve says. He's in jeans and a cable-knit sweater, thin wire frame glasses perched on his nose. He looks utterly biteable. Except that's what got them into this mess in the first place. “Oh, very bad. Apparently, you've brainwashed me with some sort of satanic magic to overthrow the monarchy. Either that, or this is a slandering campaign against you, involving a carefully picked doppelganger and-” 

“Steve,” Eddie groans. 

Steve finally lowers the phone, putting it down on the small side table sitting between them and folding his hands in his lap. 

“Eddie,” he says. 

Eddie winces. He knows this tone, this aloof, barely interested drawl. Knows the way Steve holds himself - spine straight, shoulders slightly pulled back, chin up. Eyes so much dimmer than what he's used to. Distant and detached.

This isn't Steve. It's Prince Steven. 

Eddie hoped he'd never have to see the fucker again. 

There's a pile of documents lying on the stupid, fancy side table, right next to the phone. Eddie squints at them, catching the royal sigil at the top, the words non-disclosure agreement below, and his stomach fills with lead. When he manages to speak, his voice sounds hollow in his ears.

“So this is it, huh?” 

Steve sighs. “Father would've loved to speak to you personally.”

The heavy, molten thing in Eddie’s guts twists. 

“Would he now?” he grits out, trying to match Steve’s bored tone and knowing he's failing. Unlike some people, he hasn't been drilled into burying his feelings under a layer of ice all his life. 

Steve nods.

“He had more important things to attend to, though” he says. “Instead, he told me to have you sign this.” 

“Did he now?” Eddie says. It comes out hollow, words snagging in a too-dry throat. 

Steve picks up the documents, leafing through the smooth, white pages. Even the fucking paper is fancy in this place.

“He's instructed our PR team to get me a watertight alibi for the night of the concert. Said we'd deny any acquaintance with you. Forbid you from ever so much as speaking my name in public. I told him to go fuck himself.” 

“Did you no- … Wait, what?” 

Eddie snaps his head up just in time to see how Steve tosses the papers into the fire. The rage on that pretty face is pure, unbridled and undisguised, and Eddie’s heart tugs painfully in his chest. 

“I'm not gonna put a muzzle on you. You can damn well say whatever you want about me. I trust you, and that won't change. Not even if you don't want to continue this-” 

“Woah, woah, wait,” Eddie blurts. “Hold on a sec. You think I'm breaking up with you?” 

Steve blinks at him. “Um, yes? Are you not?”

Eddie can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him. The weight that has been tearing at his insides ever since the damn photo dropped is gone. He feels like he needs to tether himself to something or he'll float off towards the ugly painted ceiling with the chubby, winged babies. 

“No, you stupid dickhead,” he says, and finally, finally takes Steve's hand in his. “I thought you were breaking up with me.” 

Steve gapes at him. “Why would I- … I'd never do that!” 

“Well, good,” Eddie says. “Cause neither would I.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip, hope and doubt warring in those lovely eyes of his. 

“I don't think you understand what's at stake here,” he mutters. “If we make this public, it'll be the greatest scandal this country has seen in decades. The press will be all over us, your fans will hate you, my family will tell you to give up your career, they'll-” 

“Honey,” Eddie interrupts him, not bothering to hide the grin that's threatening to split his face in half. “If there's two things you should know about me by now, it's these. One, I'm terrible at taking instructions. And two, I don't give a rat's ass about what anyone thinks about me.” 

Steve's eyes are large and round behind his glasses, but Eddie imagines the hope is winning over the doubt. 

“I wanna be with you,” he says, squeezing Steve’s fingers a little tighter. “And to be frank, I think the system could do with a good shaking-up. Don't you agree?” 

Steve snorts a reluctant laugh, and his entire face lights up with it. “You can say that again.” 

Eddie thinks he's never seen anything as beautiful as Steve’s smile as he slowly lifts their entwined hands to his lips. 

“If it's a scandal they want,” he murmurs, holding Steve's gaze and pressing a long, lingering kiss to his knuckles, “I say let's give them a scandal to remember.” 

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 10)

Contains: fluff, smut, fingering (f receiving), mentions of period and blood, period cramps, inappropriate behaviour between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~3.96k

Masterlist of this story

10 hours later Daemon woke up in his feather bed and yawned loudly. After taking care of his hair and getting dressed, he felt like having breakfast and left his room. He definitely would have to speak to you soon, telling you that he had taken care of the problem. His brother hadn’t explicitly assured him that he had buried his plan to wed you to the Starks yet but for Daemon, it was enough. He knew his brother well, knew his nature and behaviour and he was certain that Viserys had realised that Daemon had made sense and that he wouldn’t wed you to Jorlan Stark.

So Daemon took a diversion as he walked downstairs to pass your chambers. He wanted to see you feeling happy and look at your face when he told you the news. Feel that it was him who brought you joy. It did incredible things to his ego.

He approached the door and then glared at the knight guarding it. He ignored him and wanted to open the door but the knight moved between Daemon and the door before he could push it open.

"My Prince. I will announce your presence to the Princess." Daemon rolled his eyes but didn’t want to cause a fight.

"Go on, then. I’d like to escort the Princess to the dining room. Would you be so kind telling her?" His voice was brimming with sarcasm but the knight remained professional, nodded, knocked on the door and when he heard you say "Come.", opened it to enter the room.

Daemon exhaled loudly but waited while he heard the knight talk to you. A moment later the knight returned and took his place next to the door again.

"The Princess will be there soon." Daemon nodded and crossed his hands in front of his chest and after 2 minutes the door opened again.

"Uncle.", you greeted him and smiled. Daemon could sense though that you seemed worried and the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

"Vhaela. Good morrow.", Daemon said and the two of you started walking to the stairs that would lead them down to the dining room. Once they were out of the knight’s sight, Daemon stopped walking and looked at you.

"I have news for you.", he said quietly and watched if there was anyone near. You remained sceptical and bit your lip. "What news?"

"I’ve spoken to your father yesterday. And well, I was able to change his mind."

You widened your eyes. "What?! Are you joking?" Your heat beat fast and you stared at Daemon, who smirked widely.

"I’m not. But that’s not all. Of course I couldn’t convince him of not marrying you to anyone at all. I simply… gave you some time."

"What do you mean?" Your uncle cleared his throat. "Well, I told your father that I believed that the whole situtation right now in Braavos… needed some reassurance. I told him that in case the conflict with Lord Hotorlan was to escalate he could reunite the two houses by marrying you to one of his sons. It could stop war."

You were thinking and frowned. "But… How likely is that to happen?"

Daemon chuckled and the two of you continued your stroll. "Not likely at all."

"How do you know that?" "Because I have met Lord Hotorlan. I spoke to him."

You laughed out. "What?"

"Not recently of course. But during the war at the Stepstones. He met me in secret so it is no wonder the crown didn’t know anything about the latest political changes."

You looked at your uncle with small eyes. "Which are…?"

Daemon smiled widely. "Lord Hotorlan came to me because he supported the Velaryons and me. The triarchy disrupted their ship routes as well and so he asked me about the latest events and how we were standing against the Crabfeeder. I told him and we got along quite well. In the end I promised him that I would win this war and bring back everything the triarchy had stolen from Hotorlan’s ships that remained in their possession if he would stop rebelling against the crown’s representants in Braavos and accept the new laws. And he consented."

You were beyond confused. "B-But why does my father not know about this? Why did he even come to you in secret?"

"Because Lord Hotorlan suspects treason among his closest advisers. And relatives even. His brother is very convinced by the old ways of Braavos and wants him to keep the old laws. Hotorlan knew that he will continue to fight the crown and didn’t want his brother to stop him from conspiring with me, a Targaryen. Hotorlan knows that the situation with his people is difficult because they are torn. But he is convinced that to uphold peace in the realm the people of Braavos should acknowledge the new laws and that’s what he will continue to do. He simply doesn’t want the common people and even his own council to know about his beliefs in order to protect himself and, well, us."

You’re head was hurting. "But then he’s in terrible danger." Daemon shrugged his shoulders, looking like he didn’t care. "Yes, he is."

"And if the traitors in his circle would overthrow him?"

"Then that wouldn’t be our problem. I don’t believe Hotorlan’s brother would want to marry his traiterous brother’s son to a Targaryen Princess." Daemon chuckled. "He will either be able to enforce his beliefs, which wouldn’t give your father reasons to give you to his son, or his brother will overthrow him and claim his title, which, well, would be bad for my brother, but you wouldn’t suffer from it."

You were stunned and watched your uncle with an open mouth. "That’s… mad."

Daemon laughed loudly and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Mad isn’t the word I’d choose, sweet niece. I’d call it… genius."

You nervously turned around to see if there was anyone in the corridor to see your uncle so close to you. You pulled at his tunic.

"Not here, Daemon.", you whispered and he rolled his eyes, smirking. "It is no crime to have my arm wrapped around my niece." And yet you felt uncomfortable and so Daemon sighed and let go of you. Once you felt safe again you smiled widely and looked up to him.

"Thank you.", you whispered and Daemon grinned at to you. "You’re welcome."

You felt your heart jump and suddenly felt so light. You wouldn’t leave King’s Landing, you wouldn’t move to the cold North. You toyed with the sleeves of Daemon’s tunic, so excited that you just had to do something with your hands.

"I’ll stay here in King’s Landing, Daemon.", you whispered again with pure joy written in your face and just for a short moment your uncle’s hand stroke your cheek. Then his hand hang to the side of his body again and he looked straight ahead, his smile not vanishing from his face either.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Daemon sat in a small council meeting and watched his fingernails bored. He had stopped listening to the council members long ago and only wished it to be over. The last time Daemon had listened, the Hand had been speaking of a tournament to celebrate the birth of a distant cousin of you and Rhaenyra and Daemon couldn’t care less about it.

He adjusted himself in his chair and then his gaze wandered to the window. He watched some birds sitting on a branch of an oak tree outside but for some reason he felt a little unrelaxed. Perhaps it was because of this long ongoing meeting but he simply felt uneasy. Maybe it was just because he wanted you. Maybe that was because he felt restless. His body was aching to touch you, hear you. Daemon closed his eyes and just thinking of you for a second had awakened a fire inside of him. He had to go and see you. Listen to the sweet noises leaving your lips and watch you fall apart when his head dived between your legs.

That was also something that did immense things for his ego. Perhaps that was also a reason why he loved pleasuring you so much, because he felt this feeling in his chest. Knowing that HE was the one who could turn you into such a mess. That he was capable to have you shaking and moaning for him in a matter of seconds. It got right to his head and filled it with satisfaction and pride. His ego was already big, but when he had seen you shifting on the table and not being able to put up an intelligent sentence because his face was buried in your cunt, his ego had swollen twice its size.

God, he wanted you so badly. Luckily, the meeting seemed to slowly come to an end and Daemon was the first one to rush through the door. His task now was to find you because Daemon wasn’t sure where you were. He started by looking in the library but there was no one except the septa who looked at Daemon as if she had seen a ghost. He usually only came to the library when he knew that no one would be there, which was in the middle of the night, to avoid seeing the septa who had terrorized him with her history lessons back when he was a child.

So Daemon quickly left the library again and then looked for you in the gardens, without success. His next thought led him to the throne room, perhaps you were speaking with your father. But there was no one in the room and slowly Daemon was a little confused. Were you still in your chambers? It was already noon and Daemon couldn’t think of a reason for you to stay in there so long. No, you had to be somewhere else. His brother’s chambers, maybe. Perhaps you were talking to him about the canceled betrothal and if he waited in front of the door he could take you to his room afterwards. Daemon walked out of the throne room but then saw Rhaenyra coming down the stairs.

"Rhaenyra.", Daemon quickly shouted, thinking that she might know about your remaining. She turned to Daemon and stopped walking.

"Daemon. Good morrow.", she spoke and he walked towards her.

"Have you seen your sister?", he asked and Rhaenyra watched him with small eyes. "Yes, I have. Why?"

"Where is she? Is she with your father?" Rhaenyra shook her head.

"No. She’s in her chambers." Daemon frowned. "Why?"

"She’s not feeling well.", she spoke and looked a little pitiful.

"Why, what’s wrong?", Daemon asked, feeling a little worried.

"That’s none of your concern. Something that is supposed to stay between sisters."

He wasn’t satisfied with Rhaenyra’s answer and frowned at her. "Mhmm.", he made and Rhaenyra shrugged her shoulders but then sighed.

"I can give her a message if it’s that urgent." Daemon just shook his head. "No. No, it can wait."

"Good.", Rhaenyra spoke satisfied and then turned away from him. "I’ll go and see Syrax now. You should give Caraxes your attention some time soon. I think he feels a little neglected.", she said while walking away but Daemon didn’t really listen to her. He just chewed on his lower lip, thinking about what she had said. He had to come and see you now and make sure you were fine. He’ll may not get what he initially wanted but he still wanted to take care of you. Why did Rhaenyra have to speak in such puzzles, Daemon asked himself and made his way up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

This time there wasn’t a knight in front of your door so Daemon knocked on it himself. There was a moment of silent and then he could hear your voice, sounding painful.

"Come.", you spoke and Daemon slowly opened the door. He walked in and spotted you laying in bed on your stomach, your face pressed against a pillow. You were under a blanket so he couldn’t see your arms but they seemed to be pressed against the sides of your body.

"Little owl, what’s wrong?", he asked, came closer to you and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Don’t.", you said when he caressed the back of your head and Daemon stopped the movement and pulled his hand away.

"What is it, Vhaela? Are you sick with the fever?" You shook your head and Daemon just wanted to touch you but forced himself not to. You restlessly shifted on the bed and now and then whimpered quietly.

"Sweet owl, what is it?" You finally turned your head to the side and looked at him.

"I’m just in a bit of pain.", you spoke and Daemon reached out to caress your cheek. "I can see that.", he said. "But why? What happened?"

You felt yourself blush and broke the eye contact. Shamefully, you looked at the bedsheets. "I’m bleeding.", you mumbled against the pillow.

"Oh my sweet little owl.", Daemon spoke and moved the hair out of your face. "No reason to hide from me."

"Yes it is reason to hide from you.", you whined and tried to push his hand away.

"Ugh uhm.", Daemon made and stopped you from burying your face in the pillow again. "You don’t need to be scared of me knowing about it. It’s natural for you to bleed."

You sulked and felt a sharp pain in your belly. "Ouch.", you made. "I know that it’s natural but I feel disgusting."

Daemon took his hand away and watched you. "You’re not disgusting, Vhaela. Are you always in so much pain when you bleed?"

You shook your head and moved your hips in pain. "No. Only sometimes." You just wanted to find a position where it would hurt less. But you had tried everything, sitting up, laying on your back, on your side and had found that on your stomach was the most comfortable. But still, you felt this nasty sharp pain in your core every few seconds. You just wanted to cry.

The pain had started in the morning, it had also been when you had discovered that it was time for your monthly bleeding again. You had asked a maiden to bring you a tea and she had returned with Rhaenyra, who had met the maiden on her way back up to your chambers. Rhaenyra had wanted to know if everything was fine and had come to look after you herself.

Daemon looked at you pitiful but then chuckled silently. Your eyes searched for his‘ again and he smirked. "At least we know that you’re not with child."

You widened your eyes in shock. "Seven hells! Daemon! I haven’t even thought about that this… this could lead to me being with child. Gods be good, how could I have been so stupid and simply forget?"

Your uncle grinned and rested himself on his hands that touched the bed behind him. "It’s fine. Nothing happened. I will have the maester prepare a moon tea for you next time."

You frowned. "Moon tea?" Your uncle nodded. "Helps you get rid of any unpleasant surprises."

You slowly nodded and then your face twisted with pain. Daemon sighed and then started to speak again.

"Do you want me to make you feel better?"

You closed your eyes."How? I have tried everything and nothing works."

Daemon smirked and lightly brushed with his hand over your hair and then over your back. "Perhaps you haven’t tried everything. Perhaps you haven’t tried how my fingers on your sweet, sweet pearl can help you with your pain.", he whispered and you widened your eyes. Was he joking? He had to know that it was impossible in your condition.

"Daemon, I’m bleeding. We can’t."

He shook his head. "I know that you’re bleeding. This is about me reducing your pain. If you were to let me touch you, I could give you a lot of pleasure that will fight the pain in your belly."

You simply couldn’t believe him. "B-But I’m bleeding. It is not possible."

"Why is it not possible, little owl?", he whispered. "I think if I slipped my hand under your skirt right now I would be able to find my way to your sweet cunt."

Your eyes had met and he soothingly caressed your back through the blanket. "But it’s disgusting, uncle."

He chuckled and gently tidied your hair that was all messy so it wasn’t all hanging in your face.

"I’ve spent four months fighting in the Stepstones, niece. Do you think I’m scared of a little blood?" You didn’t know what to answer and questioned if he might actually make sense. But still, it was gross, digustful, shameful even. The thought of him touching you while there was so much blood leaving your body...

Daemon’s left hand that hadn’t left your back slowly removed the blanket and revealed your body. You wore a night gown and it obviously didn’t cover as much as your dresses for the day. He leaned down to kiss you on your temple. His lips felt so soft on your skin and you started to feel a little warmer between your legs. If there only hadn’t been this painful tension in your belly that made you shift on the bed.

Daemon caressed your back through the gown and then his hand slipped downwards to lightly brush over the curve of your arse. "It’s gonna make you feel better, I promise. It’ll help against the pain." Then his hand wandered further down and you squinted.

"There’s so much blood, Daemon. It really is gross, I’m sorry."

He chuckled. "Don’t be sorry for something that is not your fault. It is natural, little owl. Every woman bleeds, so don’t feel ashamed of it."

He ran his finger throught your folds and collected some of your wetness that at this moment mostly consisted of  blood and spread it over your pearl. He started slowly circling it with his thumb and pressed into it which made you close your eyes. Daemon let you leave your eyes closed as an exception and stroke your shoulder with his left hand, that wasn’t occupied. Even though the pain in your core hadn’t entirely stopped, you actually felt a little better. His touch distracted you and made you feel something else besides the uncomfortable tension.

Then Daemon started to insert a finger in your hole. Due to your wetness it was easy to slide it in and after a short time he added a second. Your walls clenched around his fingers and Daemon started to slowly pump them. He got deeper with each thrust while his thumb still stimulated your pearl so well and then you could feel him hit that spot deep inside you. Your uncle could see in your reaction that he had found it because you quietly whimpered in your pillow and this time it wasn’t because of the pain. Then you opened your eyes and blindly reached out with your hand to pull at his sleeve.

"Daemon."

"Mhm?“, he made and lifted his eyebrows.

"Can I turn on my back?" He chuckled and moved a bit away from you to give you some space. "Of course, love."

So you turned around and Daemon was very pleased with this either because now he had way better access to your female parts and didn’t have to twist his arm so much. He started to move his fingers inside of you again while increasing his pace on your little nub. You whined and now shifted your hips from the pleasure you were receiving rather than the pain.

"Please. Daemon, oh seven hells." Daemon could feel how hard his cock was pressing against his trousers. Not only feeling your cunt but also hearing your sweet voice did things to him and he had to fight the need to bury himself inside your warm walls. First, he had to make you reach your high and then he wasn’t certain if you wanted him to fuck you in your condition.

"I know, little owl. Relax and let me pleasure you."

You moaned feeling his thumb rub at your pearl and threw your head back. Daemon watched you with a smirk and simply loved seeing you fall apart. His left hand stroke your bare thigh to calm you while his right almost magically drove you closer and closer to your high. You sighed, moaned, shifted restlessly and just wanted to reach the end, grab the feeling of your redemption.

And Daemon allowed you to. His hand worked faster, just the right pace to give you the perfect amount of pleasure. His thumb pressed against you, went in tight circles around your pearl while his two fingers inside you hit that spot deep in your cunt. You could see stars and bit your lip until you tasted blood. Pleasure was washing over you and then your body felt like it was exploding. You quietly shrieked and grabbed Daemon’s arm in an attempt to hold on to something.

"Aghh, Daemon.", you cried out and arched on the bed. Your legs were shaking and your eyes rolled back and you pressed your legs together around Daemon’s hand between then. Your uncle smirked, which you couldn’t see and rubbed you through your high until he noticed that you uncomfortably shifted under his touch on your overstimulated cunt and he let go. This was about making you feel good after all and even though he wanted to tease and taunt you so badly, he wouldn’t do it today. Not when you were suffering like that. Daemon knew about his reputation. People thought of him as cruel, ruthless and violent. And he would be wrong to deny that his nature could be like that, but you were precious to him and he wouldn’t cause you any more pain or discomfort on a day like this. On another day… perhaps, but not today.

So he removed his hand from your female parts and saw how you anxiously watched his fingers. They were soaked with your arousal and blood and then your eyes went up to met his‘. You nervously looked at him but Daemon simply smirked.

"I don’t want to hear another sound out of your mouth about your blood. I told you I don’t find you disgusting." You didn’t answer him and watched as he stood up, grabbed a tissue and wiped it clean of your body liquid. Then he grabbed the blanket, covered you with it again, sat down on the bed again and looked down to you. He caressed the side of your face.

"How are you feeling, byka atroksia (little owl)?" You softly smiled and pressed yourself against his hand on your cheek. It felt so warm and comforting.

"Better.", you whispered. "Thank you, Daemon."

He smirked and then let go of your face and slipped his hand under the blanket again and at first you didn’t know what he was doing. But then he laid his hand on your lower belly and he gently soothed your skin. You closed your eyes because his warm hand really helped you with your pain.

"That’s good, Daemon." His left hand stroke your head. "It is the warmth of the fire. And it comes from our dragonblood."

Daemon sat like that for a while. Stroking your belly and watching you now and then shift in pain but he noticed that it was better now than it was when he had entered the room earlier. And then after another 20 minutes, you fell asleep. Your breathing became more even and louder and so Daemon quietly stood up and left your chambers.

[haechwrites]

sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH

prince!lee donghyuck x baker fem!OC (no name!)

synopsis: prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.

wc: ~17.1k

warnings: pet names used only so i don't have to namedrop lol. no other warnings tho!

A/N: this is my second longest fic i've actually finished hehe i'm really happy with this one and now i wish i had a prince haechan lol

-- some things to note first:

THIS FIC IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. if you see ♔, that means it's in haechan's pov written in third person!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As a child, life is all about the simple pleasures. It didn’t matter that I’d come home to a dark house carrying the faint snores of my mother. I was still reeling from the sweet taste of mangoes on my tongue, the slight dusting of sugar in my hair, and the lingering soreness from laughing in my cheeks. I’d quickly wash up, give my mom a quick peck on the forehead, and tuck myself in bed. Before I know it, the sun greets me again and I meet my grandma outside as she leads me to the palace. This was my routine and for my young brain, there was nothing ever wrong with it.

My grandma is the head baker at the palace. Since the separation of my parents, I have spent my days with my grandma at work. It was all I knew and I was content with it. Every sunrise, I’d have 30 minutes before I had to meet her outside. Together, we’d walk to the palace’s servant entrance and my grandma would give our favorite guard, Doyun, a warm smile and a promise to slip an extra pastry in his meal for letting me tag along. I’d walk past him with a finger to my lips asking him to be sworn to secrecy. He’d always return it with a wink and a small laugh. It was our little promise, though I’m sure no one would actually mind an extra guest on the grounds – especially a mere 7-year-old. 

Once inside the kitchen, I strap on the apron that the palace’s tailor secretly made specifically for me. Grandma told me that the busiest times in the kitchen were the mornings, so I always sit in the corner to let her start the day. I occupy myself for at least an hour before my friend comes to play with me. His entrance is always the same: a secret knock on the side door and a gleaming smile when I open it for him. 

Today he’s dressed up in a super fancy garment, almost like a uniform. I had never seen him in anything other than his casual button-up and pants, typically covered by an extra adult-sized apron we’d find laying around.

“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”

“Princess!,” He’d squeal, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s my special outfit.”

“Is it your birthday?” My nose scrunches in confusion, looking him up and down. Even if it was his birthday, I can’t imagine his servant parents could afford such expensive fabric. 

Donghyuck laughs before yanking a spare apron off its hook and pulling it over his head. 

“Nooo. I have something important to do today. That’s why I’m wearing this,” He explains, looking a little nervous.

“Oh wow. You look like the King. Or like a prince,” I say jokingly, but Donghyuck freezes. His eyes are wide like the time he accidentally ate the last mango tart I was saving.

Then he breaks out into an awkward laugh and smiles wide at me, “I am a prince… because you’re my princess.” He says with utmost confidence, before grabbing my hands. We’re standing the way I position my two play dolls during a pretend wedding ceremony.

I quickly turn the shade of freshly baked cherry pies and I tear my hands out of his hold.

“Donghyuck-ah! How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I huff, crossing my arms. 

He snickers, “Hmmm… maybe one hundred more times.”

“One hundred more times?!”

“Yes, if you can even count that high,” he smirks, instantly easing the tension from earlier. He plops down onto my stool and looks up at me. “So what are we playing today? Or should we read? Or does Baker Grandma need help?”

I aimlessly kick the leg of the stool, thinking about what we could do today as I can see him anxiously bounce around in his seat. He looks like he’s running on limited time today. Sometimes Donghyuck disappears on me in the middle of our hangouts or doesn’t show up at all. I just assume his parents need help with their tasks just like how Grandma often calls me to help her bake. He’s never told me where in the palace they work despite the years we’ve been hanging out. 

“What if we help your parents today?” The minute the question leaves my lips, I hear a snort from the kitchen staff and Donghyuck goes into a coughing fit as if the flour seeped into his lungs.

I begin to feel myself turn red again and wondering what was so wrong till I feel a familiar warm hand on my shoulder.

“Ah Donghyuck, you’re here today?” My grandma looks at his attire with a suspicious gaze. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Her hands are on her hips and it feels similar to the times she’s caught me using the oven on my own.

Donghyuck starts shyly giggling while fiddling with the oversized apron my grandma is reaching to remove. I stand there in confusion as he looks like a puppy that was told he wasn’t allowed to play or have a treat. I want to help him but the look on grandma’s face is too scary to fight.

She’s slowly ushering him out the door and I’m holding his apron in my hands, watching him pout.

“Bye Hyuck,” I mutter, sad that our day was cut short before it even began. This was the quickest that one has ended.

“Byeee Princess,” He says with as much despair in his voice. He always has to be a little more dramatic than me. I giggle and wave him goodbye, spirits lifted by his antics. I see a smile grow on his face at the sound of my laugh before my grandma closes the door.

My loneliness returns as I stare at the wooden panels of the side door. 

“Did he have to go?” I ask, slumping back onto the stool he was just on.

My grandma turns to me with a quizzical look. I can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or disappointed and then she’s crouched down in front of me. Her flour-coated hands are resting on my lap.

“Donghyuck got called by his parents. They’re very important people,” She starts slowly. Grandma has never talked about Donghyuck’s family or personal life before. It was never brought up in the past because I assumed he was just like me. Now that we’re finally beginning to talk about it, the hesitant look on her face makes me not want to know anymore. 

“Guards?,” I ask. To me, Doyun is the most important worker in the castle as he freely lets me in and out. Maybe guards earn enough to adorn such fancy clothes I saw Donghyuck wear.

“No, honey,” She glances back at her staff, and I notice they’ve been watching. They give me a reassuring smile, but there’s uneasiness quivering on their lips.

“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

They found him. Donghyuck’s personal guards find him where they usually do when he escapes his tasks, and that would be at the palace kitchen. This time, they find him outside the door, rather than inside scarfing down mango tarts. 

Without any hesitation and with no room for him to trick them and run, they grab the tiny prince and bring him to the meeting he was meant to attend with the King. It was meant to be the first glimpse of his life as a future ruler, attending meetings with fellow diplomats and other boring princely things. Donghyuck does not understand why he can’t spend his day playing like a regular 7-year-old with his pretty friend from the kitchen. 

Despite having complained and whined his way out of most duties, Donghyuck had reached the level of maturity to know that this one he couldn’t fight. I mean, the tailor adjusted his royal attire just for this one-hour meeting. After having come to terms with sitting in boredom for an hour, Donghyuck did not expect to be dragged into more as he was about to skip his way over to the kitchen once the diplomats left.

“And where are you off to now, Donghyuck?”

He freezes in his tracks and a shiver ripples down his spine at the sound of her voice. He’s been caught again.

He spins around, plastering the biggest smile possible on his face. “Nowhere, Mother. Just strolling around until my tutoring session.” He hopes she doesn’t recognize this path to the kitchen.

“And is your tutoring session located in the kitchen today?” She asks, words dripping with a patronizing attitude. Nothing Donghyuck isn’t used to.

“Oh! I wanted to see if I could get a quick snack before. My brain needs food, right?” He hides his crossed fingers behind his back, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.

“And you’re not just going there to see that girl, are you?” She takes a step closer and Donghyuck is scared she can see the drip of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. How did she know about Princess? He wonders if his guard ratted him out… even after Donghyuck gave him half of his tart. The betrayal, he scoffs. 

“There’s no girl, Mother.” Donghyuck decides it's best to deny it and stare straight at his feet. 

“You are correct, there will never be a girl. Instead, there will be a future queen. A princess for now and you need to begin meeting our potential suitresses,” The queen firmly states, grabbing his shoulders to steer him towards the library. Before he could stop himself, his chest bubbles with heat, and his brain is fogged with confusion. He can’t imagine anyone by his side but her.

“Why can’t she be my princess?”

The words spill out from his royal lips before he could catch them. There’s no missing the instant look of rage and disgust on the Queen’s face when her son’s true desires are revealed. Desires of the heart, but a complete disgrace to his duties as the Prince. Her eyes grow colder and her skin pales till her blush is the brightest hue on her cheeks. 

Donghyuck feels his throat go dry and the crossed fingers behind his back unlock. No luck can help him now.

“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”

The queen’s words are final. His shoulders slump lower and his feet are heavy as he drags them across the cobblestone trailing toward the library. It feels like there was a wall that slammed into the ground behind him, forbidding him from seeing her again.

“Yes, ma’am. No more.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^

The only memory of my childhood that lingered was the heat of the oven. Like I did every day at the age of 7, I continued to bake to keep that fire alive. There were days where the warmth was cooler than normal and my urge to bake waivered. Days like when my grandma stopped showing up outside my house every day a half hour after sunrise. Days like when my mother decided I was too much to raise when I stopped spending my time at the palace. And days like the one when I moved out of the city to live with my dad. 

However, there were also days where the flame was ablaze. Days like when I got my own personal baking set. Days like when I got accepted into a baking school. And days like today, where I return to the city that pushed me out fifteen years ago to open a bakery. Despite the dismal circumstances of the day I left, I always felt the urge to return. It never felt right that I moved in the first place. Confusion still envelops my mind when I think about how my grandma stopped taking me to the palace for unsaid reasons and how my mother was incapable of taking care of me due to it. There had to be something more going on. 

Outside of this mystery of my childhood, my main goal was to return with my own bakery specializing in my soon-to-be infamous mango tarts. I had visited the city for the first time since my move before to scope out bakery locations. But today was the day that I officially move in, to both my home and bakery, and kickstart my business. My first task was to put up a sign displaying the bakery’s name.

“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”

Warmth blooms in my chest; I would recognize that voice anywhere. I flip around and I’m greeted with her same sugary sweet smile. My grandma looks just as she did before but her hair is dusted white like the flour she worked with. But she still smelled like spiced apple pie, my eyes watered in disbelief. 

“Grandma!” I ran into her open arms and I could feel her chuckle. 

“Oh honey, it’s been much too long. Look at you now… a beautiful woman before my eyes,” She’s smiling widely and I can see her eyes take in my features. Fifteen years worth of change and growth. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t been in contact much. I could barely find the time to tell you I was coming back.”

“It’s alright. All that matters is you’re here,” Grandma rubs my arms reassuringly. “And are you here alone? Or have you moved back with a lover?” The childish gleam on her face makes me giggle and I quickly correct her that I’m single and focusing on my baking.

“Ah, I see. In that case, you must have more time than I anticipated. You must come with me to work one of these days. Just like old times. Consider it research for your bakery.” The way she sways with excitement makes it hard for me to turn it down, and I can’t deny the flutter in my heart at the idea of stepping foot onto the palace grounds again. It was where it all started for me. I agreed with a smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After a week of prepping the bakery, I decided to visit my grandma. To be completely honest, outside of the work I had to do, my nerves did play a role in keeping me from going earlier. But now that I’ve decided I’ve run out of excuses, I’m walking to the servant entrance of the palace a little before noon to give my grandmother the morning to solely focus on work. It makes me smile knowing I still remember the schedule of the palace kitchen. 

The streets surrounding the castle are quiet at this hour. I can still remember the hustle and commotion of the staff in the early morning, lining up to get inside to start their days. It was never daunting to be a young girl surrounded by a diverse array of people. It was thrilling and almost comforting and it was much better than staying home alone. 

When I reach the gates, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time because blocking my path is a young guard who looks eerily like Doyun, the guard I knew from before.

“How can I help you, miss?”

“Hi.” I’m inspecting his face. He has the same colored hair, but it’s parted differently. He has the same warm light brown eyes and his face is a little softer than Doyun’s. My mind can’t help but ask, “I’m sorry if this is a strange question but do you know Guard Doyun?”

His stiff demeanor drops like a curtain and the young guard’s eyes light up, “I’m his son, Yunseo! How do you know my father?” Suddenly I don’t see a guard in uniform, but instead a bright, inviting individual in his place.

“No wonder! I’m the granddaughter of the head baker. I used to greet your father every morning when I was a child.” 

“Oh yes! Yes, she told me you were coming. You can go right along in, just make sure she knows to sneak me an extra sweet treat.” He opens the gates for me.

“Ah like father, like son,” I giggle, slightly bowing to him as I enter.

“Do you remember how to get to the kitchen?”

I stare at the familiar worn cobblestone paths and nod, “I think so.”

The walk to the kitchen is shorter than I remember but the smell wafting from the windows is all the same. I reach the side door and I’m about to knock when I notice it’s creaked slightly open. I hear a voice above all the kitchen noise.

“Gran, please sneak something in my food today so I can get sick and stay in bed for the whole week. I do not want to court these women.” I peek my head in further to take a look at the man speaking. I let out a soft gasp when my eyes land on him.

Outside of his stunning beauty, he looks familiar. His tufts of chestnut brown hair are slightly waved as they curl around the nape of his neck. He often shakes his head to get the bangs out of his face, exposing his tan skin. If I look close enough, he has distinguishable moles on the plush curves of his cheeks. His rosy lips are wrapped around a piece of pastry and even when he’s talking with his mouth full, he’s still attractive. My eyes instantly widen when I notice his outfit: the royal attire.

A squeal escapes my mouth and before I could hide, the door is swung open by my grandma.

“You’re here!”

At the announcement of my arrival, the young man is dusting the crumbs off his hands, and looks like he’s about to make a quick escape. 

“Hi Grandma,” I give her a hug, not minding the flour sticking to my sweater. “I was just about to knock.” I let out a small laugh to hide the fact that I was definitely eavesdropping not moments ago.

“Grandma?” I hear the man say behind her. He decided to stay after realizing it wasn’t one of his guards coming to get him, but instead a pretty woman. An oddly, familiar, pretty woman. 

My grandma bites her lip to keep from smiling any bigger and she grabs my arm to present me to the man.

“Oh my. I forgot you guys know each other! It’s Donghyuck, do you remember, honey? You used to play with him every day as I worked.” The glint in her eyes is something more than just happy nostalgia and I give her a look.

“Pri-... Princess?” When the old nickname leaves his lips, I gasp and feel my cheeks bloom pink. The layers of the handsome man in front of me started to peel and I could see the little boy I spent my early life with. Most of my warmest days were spent with him. But I’m also brought back to one of the colder days of my childhood. The day I found out my childhood best friend was the Prince. 

At first, I didn’t understand why my grandma was so fearful of telling me who he really was. I was ecstatic to hear that Donghyuck was royalty. I was fascinated and curious to see what his life was like and how it compared to being the granddaughter of a palace worker. I soon learned that what I wanted to discover was not so glamorous. Because apparently, his life excluded me. I didn’t piece that together until a few years after my move. Why else did Donghyuck stop showing up and why else was I forbade from going to the palace with my grandma? When I came to the realization, I began to resent him and eventually, completely forgot about him.

“Prince Donghyuck,” I bowed, trying not to show any expression. He had his arm slightly raised like he was about to reach for me but his body stiffened at my curtness. My grandma even looks at me with confusion. “It’s… It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be so polite. You guys were friends!” My grandma squeezes my arms, urging me to get closer. I stay in my place.

“He’s the Prince, Grandma,” I whisper through my teeth and I can tell he hears me by the dejected look on his face. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes.

“It’s quite alright. I actually have to get going. Prin-... Sorry, It was lovely to see you,” The Prince ducks his head and leaves the way I came in. He looks back at my figure once more, thoughts churning, before he disappears.

My feet remain still and I’m staring at the place he stood. Staring at the pastry he bit into. He’s real and he’s back. And the door he walked through was the same one he used to leave me 15 years ago. The alarms rang in my brain and I quickly shook my head, grabbing a bowl and mixing whatever contents are in it. The faster I stirred, the more I begged my mind to stop thinking about Donghyuck.

“You’re overwhipping the cream.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

On every page he turned to, the words blurred and all Donghyuck could see was her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’s much taller now, and he naturally smiles remembering when she used to argue that he was only taller than her by a centimeter. Her hair was also longer and not bound in her classic two braids. Though he didn’t get to see her smile, he was sure that it’s brighter than before. After all, everything about her seemed to have grown more beautiful than before. Donghyuck wonders if he should be calling her “Queen” now with how wonderfully she’s aged. 

A delicate tap on his shoulder forces Donghyuck out of his lovestruck haze. “Prince Donghyuck, are you enjoying your book?”

He remembers that he’s in the library with one of his potential suitresses. He turns to her and almost wants to laugh. For the years that his childhood friend has been gone, it was the memory of her that invaded his mind whenever he was forced to go on these dates. But now that Donghyuck has seen her again in the flesh, he realizes how doomed he is and how these other princesses definitely don’t stand a chance.

During the fifteen years apart, Donghyuck’s gloom exacerbated the Queen’s determination to find him a future queen. Out of all his regular royal responsibilities, his courtships took the most time. He excels in all areas of his duties, but the one he can’t manage to succeed in is getting a wife. From playdates to formal dates, Donghyuck aged and remained single. And both he and the head baker knew why. 

Despite the Queen’s warnings to never enter the kitchen, Donghyuck found himself there every week whether it was to steal extra mango tarts or ask about the baker’s granddaughter. It was usually after failed dates when he’d trudge into the kitchen, completely drained of energy, and beg the baker to talk to him about his first love. Questions about where she is, how she’s doing, and whether she thinks of him spill from his mouth, and the baker would entertain him every time. Even if he only knew and could only remember the child version of her, Donghyuck still managed to compare her to every suitress he met. None of them stood a chance against his princess. And though with time he could recognize how silly this infatuation had gotten, he grew fatigued of courtship and this was the easiest way to go about it. The grandmother was wary of this long overrun connection as well, but at the same time commended him for his commitment to her granddaughter. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him to move on.

And now Donghyuck’s here, on another date and he actually has an image, a real person, to be thinking of. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So you are hiding from me?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” I drop the bowl of frosting at my feet and scramble to pick it up. A pair of far too expensive shoes enter my vision. I shoot up and my heart races, knowing exactly who it is.

“My prince,” I bow, meeting the ground once more. I stand upright and give him a passing smile.

“I like hearing you say that,” The Prince smirks. He swiftly scoops a finger of frosting before popping it in his mouth.

“Formalities,” I respond and I move the bowl out of his reach.

He chuckles and he starts to fiddle with an apron left on the counter.

“So you’ve been visiting at nighttime. Are you actually avoiding me?” He looks at me like he’s challenging me to say no. 

Yes. “No, I just prefer the kitchen at night.” I clutch the frosting bowl tighter and focus my attention on what’s salvageable.

“You mean my kitchen… which you’ve been sneaking into with the help of my guard.” I can feel that he’s moved closer and I wince.

“Yes… I’m sorry. My grandma said it’d be okay and my kitchen at the bakery isn’t finished being built. If you’d like me to stop coming, I can.” I start to untie my apron and his hand catches my wrist.

“No,” He blurts out. “There’s no need. Feel free to use the kitchen.” The Prince raises his hands in the air as if to give me permission. I politely nod and go back to fixing my frosting, ignoring the tingling I feel on my wrist. 

He doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he puts on the apron from the counter and leans in to watch.

“Um, what are you doing?” The Prince is tapping the table and humming as he stares at me.

“Hanging out,” He says matter-of-factly. 

“I see,” And that’s all that I can say because who am I to kick the Prince out of his own kitchen? So I just mix and continue doing my thing.

“Just like the old days. You do remember, right?” I make the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. He’s looking at me like his question meant more than just a test of my memory.

“Vaguely… It was a long, long time ago.” A time I don’t wish to relive.

There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.

“Well, I remember. I think I’ll always remember. You were my best friend… And those were probably the best days of my life.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this. In fact, he looks nervous to be admitting it in the first place. 

All I can do is nod, not knowing what to say to his confession. Especially when the feeling I get when I look back on those times is not as positive.

“Anyway… I’m planning on recreating those times.” Without thinking, I meet his eyes and he’s smiling hopefully. “So don’t try to hide from me next time. I’ll be here whenever you are. Think of it as your payment for using the kitchen.” 

The uneasiness and warmth in my stomach are hard to decipher. The thought of spending more time with him is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I try to ease my nerves by mixing even harder and he notices before laughing. 

With my unspoken agreement, we spend the rest of the night in silence, just in each other’s presence. Every now and then he steals a bite of my makings and tries to lighten the air with a poorly made joke. And I don’t hold my laughter back.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And then, once the frosting is on, you can add the strawberries.” I demonstrate by putting the nicely sliced strawberries on in a thin layer. 

“When are you going to teach me how to make the mango tart?” The Prince pouts and bites the strawberries instead of putting them on the cake. I scowl and move the bowl away from him. 

“When are you going to stop eating my ingredients?”

He smirks and taps the counter, “When are you going to stop using my kitchen?” He tilts his head to the side to goad me.

I roll my lips into my mouth and stuff another strawberry in his face when he laughs. 

“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.

Completely out of my control, my hangouts with Prince Donghyuck have returned. However, this time, I know he’s the prince and instead of every day in the morning, it’s 2 to 3 times a week at night. My excuse is that my kitchen in the bakery isn’t done being built, but to be completely honest, I could have it done by the end of the week. Maybe it’s because I enjoy my time with the Prince or maybe it’s because I actually do want the extra amenities I asked to be installed last minute… who knows? The end conclusion is that I find myself in the palace’s kitchen more often than I intended, and I find myself enjoying the Prince’s company more than I intended.

“Okay, your highness. Do you think you can stack these layers evenly?” 

He gives me a playful salute, mouth full of cream, as he hops off the kitchen counter. He stands by my side and takes the cake from my hands.

“You know… as much as I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ why don’t you ever call me by my name anymore?” 

“Because now I know you’re the Prince.” And I don’t know how it feels to have your name roll off my tongue as it did before, I think to myself.

The Prince lets out a low whistle. “Do you see me differently?” He trains his eyes to the level of the cake to get it precisely right. I watch him from above.

“It’s been fifteen years… so yes, I do see you differently.” I move to mix more frosting to coat the cake with.

“Okay,” He nods, thinking about my response. “So me being the Prince isn’t part of it?” He glances at me quickly with what I can assume is worry before he goes to add another layer of cake.

“Mmm… It is. Not a big part, but definitely a part. I think it’s mainly because you’ve grown up, We’ve both grown up. Maybe me more than you,” I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me and I make a face back. “Example number one.”

He finishes putting on the last layer and stands up straight to admire his work.

“What makes me different than before?” He takes the frosting bowl from my hands and begins icing the cake like I’ve taught him a couple of days ago. I take this as a break and I lift myself up to sit on the counter, dangling my feet.

“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder. 

“You’re dressed nicer.”

“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.

“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”

At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.

“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.

“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.

“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”

“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”

I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”

“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.

“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?

The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”

I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.

“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”

Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.

“Okay. Donghyuck.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”

“OH SHIT!”

Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.

I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.

“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself. 

“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.

He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible. 

“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”

He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”

“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.

He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century. 

I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.

“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.

“When were you born?”

“May.”

“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”

I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.

“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”

“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”

“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.

“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”

“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.

“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.” 

This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.

“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”

I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”

“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”

I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”

“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.

“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”

“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh. 

“Any cool cars?”

“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”

There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.

I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.

“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”

His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.

“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”

He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.

“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”

I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.

“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.

Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”

Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.

“Thank you.”

And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.

The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week. 

Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.

“Do you need help with that, Princess?”

“Should I preheat the oven for you?”

“Here, let me tie your apron.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.

Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”

“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”

He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself. 

“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.

“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.

“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.

“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.

“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”

At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.

“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.

“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.

“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.

“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.

“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.

Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.

“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face. 

She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.

“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.

“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.

“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.

“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.

Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.

Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.

He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”

He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.

“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”

With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”

He returns it, “Always.”

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring. 

As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.

“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.

I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.

Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.

“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come. 

Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.

“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.

My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.

Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.

“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”

Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.

“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”

The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears. 

“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand. 

“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment. 

Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.

“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!” 

Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to. 

My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.

She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her. 

“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. 

He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.

“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.

“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”

“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.

“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”

“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”

Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.

“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.

The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”

“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”

He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.

“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.

“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.

Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”

“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?

“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands. 

She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.

“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.

“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking. 

Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.

“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.

She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”

The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks. 

I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.

“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.

I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation. 

“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.

“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.

“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck. 

“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”

Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly. 

“Speaking of him…”

“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.

I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.

“We fought.” I admit.

“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one. 

“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”

I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.

“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter. 

“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.

She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.

“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.

“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind. 

“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters. 

On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.

“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”

To the owner of Princess Bakery,

Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills. 

Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.

Signed,

The Lees

The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain. 

Prince Lee Donghyuck.

His union.

Wedding cake.

Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us. 

Surprise.

Our first date.

Because I love you.

Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears. 

This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.

A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.

Anger. 

“Don’t blame him.” 

My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.

“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words. 

Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.

“Shared,” I corrected her.

“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”

Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration. 

“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.

At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.

My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.

“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”

My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place. 

“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.

She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.

Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.

“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.

“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.

“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”

“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks. 

“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”

Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.

“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.

I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.

For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.

On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow. 

“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too. 

The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer. 

And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.

“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.

As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?

“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning. 

“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers. 

“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.

“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.

“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.

“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more. 

Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.

“So he still likes you.”

Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.

“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted. 

“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…” 

My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”

She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me. 

“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me. 

“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter. 

“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen. 

The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.

It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.

I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look. 

She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.

“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.

Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.

“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.

Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.

On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.

No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.

There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.

I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.

“Hyuck.”

I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.

“Princess.”

His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.

I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.

“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.

“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.

My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.

“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room. 

I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt. 

“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.

“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”

The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.

“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.

“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.

“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.

This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.

“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek. 

“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.

“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.

I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent. 

“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”

And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too. 

I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush. 

I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again. 

I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here. 

“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door. 

“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”

“Your highness…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”

Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.

Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.

I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.

That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors. 

“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.

“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.

“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands. 

A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?” 

I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.

“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.

“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward. 

I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.

I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop. 

Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.

I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?

I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans. 

Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.

With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing. 

I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.

He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.

But then I see his face. And different bells go off.

“Oh my god. Hyuck?”

The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.

“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.

“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.

He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.

“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming. 

I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts. 

I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.

“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”

His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.

“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation. 

He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.” 

He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:

Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance 

Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck

My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner. 

This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us. 

I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him. 

“Donghyuck… You-?”

“Marry me.” 

He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.

He continues, 

“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…

Say you’ll be my princess forever.”

I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.

“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”

Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.

“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.

We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.

“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.

“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.

“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer. 

“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.

Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.

Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe

[elliesfireflys]

Little Secrets

bbf!Ellie Williams x Reader

Summary: Your older brother swore to her that if she layed a finger on you, she’d be in some deep shit. Let’s just say neither of you listened to him.

2.3k words (i’m sorry)

warnings: Smut (😮) oral, fingering, tit play (r! receiving) swearing.

a/n: havent wrote smut in so long sorry i’m rusty oh my.

It was a warm sunny august morning. August of course being the hottest month where you live, you were relaxed on your bed in a tank with some random pair of shorts you picked out of your laundry.

Your older brother barges through the door with sweat dripping down the crown of his head.

“Hello? Do you not hear me screaming your name downstairs dumbass?” he huffs out raising one of his eyebrows with attitude.

“I have my air conditioning blasting, and my door closed. So no I don’t hear you, dumbass.” You say emphasizing ‘dumbass’ at the end of your sentence, mocking him.

“Well, Ellie’s coming over in 10. So don’t start none of your bullshit when she gets here.”

Ellie Williams. Your brothers best friend since the 3rd grade, she was attractive to say the least. Her auburn hair always perfectly framing her face, those green eyes that get your cheeks dusted with pink when she looks at you.

“Hey. Did you hear anything I just said?” Your brother annoyingly snaps you out of a trance.

“Yeah yeah, Don’t start with my bullshit.”

——

About 15 maybe 20 minutes passed after you had your conversation about Ellie with your brother when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Ellie’s here!” Your brother yelled from downstairs, which u heard him this time as you kept your door open and air conditioning low this time because you wanted to hear when Ellie came in.

“Hey, what’s up.”

Ellie. Her low voice could send shivers down your spine (it has before). You make your way down the stairs and greet her. As you reach the bottom of the steps you see the girl herself. She’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a black shirt with rings adorning her hands. She takes notice of you, eying you up in down taking you in. Her eyes rest on your chest for a second too long as you feel your face heat up.

“Hey Els.” You bat your lashes a few times at her, feeling a boost of confidence.

“Hey.” Is all she says back to you. An awkward silence fills the space between you, your brother, and Ellie.

“Okay well, me and Ellie are gonna play video games down here so you can go upstairs now, bye.” He says motioning his hand in a ‘go away’ action.

“Actually i’m going to heat up the left over pizza from yesterday, do any of you want some?”

“I‘ll have a slice, left over pizza sounds good right now.” Ellie practically whispers, scratching the back of her neck. She does this when she gets around you. You don’t know why, but she just does. It’s cute.

To Ellie’s defense, she has always had a thing for you. Ever since she met you she had always found you attractive, even before she knew she liked women. And as you both grew older, and you developed more. Her little crush on you had only gotten worse, your brother though, had basically made Ellie swear to not do anything with you. That was the one thing holding her back from telling you how she truly felt.

“Okay, i’ll go heat it up now.” You turn on your heels towards your kitchen behind your living room where Ellie and brother had been seated, setting up his playstation.

A while had passed and the pizza was done heating up, as you were about to call Ellie to come get her pizza you hear her and your brother scream as they both died in whatever game they were way to into.

“Hey Ellie the pizzas ready!”

She quickly gets up from her seat on the couch half whispering an “I’ll be back” to your brother as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Smells good, do you have any ranch?” She says as she grabs your hip with one of her hands and grazes her hips against your ass as she gently moved you aside so she can open the fridge.

You stand there frozen in the spot she moved you to for a second before speaking up, stuttering over your words for a moment.

“Uhm… you use ranch?”

“Yeah, it um. It just taste better than plain cheese pizza..” She says, seeing you both visibly flustered from the encounter just moment ago.

“El! You said you’d be right back but take 20 years to grab a fucking slice of pizza, i’m already on the next level!” you hear from the living room as your brother raises his voice to grab Ellies attention.

“Bro. I’m coming!” She raises her voice louder in reply. “Thanks for the pizza, and the ranch” She thanks you, holding up the bottle of ranch she found.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say as you take your slice and rush upstairs to your room.

Putting on something to watch but not even paying attention, as the only thing running through your mind was how Ellie pulled that stunt today.

You just had to get her back.

——

A few hours passed as it was dark out and you could still hear your brother and Ellie talking, they’ve moved on from video games to colleges.

You take your pizza plate and bring it downstairs to throw away. When you pass the couch in the living room, you and Ellie make eye contact. You both wanted each other, it was so obvious.

“Hey, Ellie’s sleeping here tonight, so don’t do anything. I mean it.” Your brother try to use a stern voice to you.

You make your way over to the couch, on Ellie’s side, leaning your hands on the arm rest of the couch purposely pushing your tits towards Ellie’s face. Her breath hitched as she took notice in how close you were to her.

“And what would we do?” You wait for either one of them to answer. “Exactly. Don’t get your dick all twisted.” You end the conversation by going upstairs for the night. Or at least until your brother was asleep.

Ellie had slept over many times before, she sleeps on the couch for some reason. Your parents were out tonight and we’re going to be gone till morning, all you had to do was get Ellie in your room. More specifically, your bed.

It was quiet in the house meaning your brother had gone to bed and Ellie was downstairs, she doesn’t sleep that fast so she had to have been up. You make your way down to your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Looking towards the couch, Ellie wasn’t there, blankets were messed up so she had to have gotten up to use the bathroom. Proceeding to the kitchen is where you find Ellie, she’s turned around in her white wife beater which make her muscles pop and her sweats from today. She finally turns around and notices you, jumping back startled.

“Jesus. Fuckin’ scared me, why are you creeping around?”

“I’m just grabbing a glass of water calm down.” You grin finding it funny.

“It’s not funny, what if you could’ve been a murder?” She says in a low voice, the one that sends shivers down your spine, she moves towards you slowly, as if she’s testing you.

You hum “Maybe a little funny, you wanna know what’s not funny though?” she nods her head for you to continue “You pulling shit like what happened earlier.” You step forward meeting her green eyes slightly looking up as she was the taller one.

“What do you mean, babe?”

Babe. She knew what she was doing. And she was doing it well. “When you just had to move me by yourself and couldn’t just ask me to move? Yeah, shit like that.” You move your face up to Ellie’s, still holding eye contact as your lips brush against each other.

Soft breaths are shared between you too, both wanting to give in and just go for it. “I can’t.” Ellie pulls away fast and leans on the counter crossing her arms looking down. If it wasn’t for the little night light your parents set up in the kitchen, you wouldn’t have been able to see Ellies red cheeks.

You move closer to her, still not wanting to give up, eventually being almost chest to chest again. “Why can’t you give in El.” She breathes a long sigh before speaking “Your brother. He always told me to never do anything with you. And to show respect to him, and you, I always listened. It feels like hell trying to not give into you. But you’re his little sister.”

Your brain is moving a lightning speed trying to take in what Ellie had just said, so she has had feelings for you, just never voiced them. “Ellie, you’re 19. You can decided if you want to give in or not. You’re not my brothers puppy. And I am not that little girl anymore.” You move your face closer to hers again, chest to chest, her hands snake towards your waist. Resting them there lightly, as if you were delicate as porcelain; going to break at any moment.

“Give in.” You breathe against her lips. And that’s all it took for her to finally give in. Pressing her lips hard against yours, eventually slowly moving each others lips in a rhythm. The kiss was sloppy, tongues intertwining with each other, spit starting to drip down chins. It was like it would be your last time kissing. She grips your hips harder against her own hips, practically grinding you down on her, giving you small friction.

“Ellie. Please.” You whine out as you move from her lips to her neck leaving a trail of kisses, softly sucking on a spot, not hard enough to leave a mark. “What do you want baby. Say it.” She breathes out, tugging at your hair with one hand. “I need you. Ellie please I need you.” You pull back from her neck looking deeply in her eyes. “Fuck. Let’s go to your room.”

You take her hand and lead her to your room immediately shutting and locking the door. When you turn around Ellie pushes you against the door attacking your neck with kisses and bites. “You have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” She says in between kisses. She waste no time and starts lowering herself, landing on her knees in front of you. Her calloused yet gentle hands run up your thighs, reaching your red lacy panties as your breath hitches. “Can I take these off?” looking up at you doe eyed and pupils blown out with lust. You nod fast as she almost rips them off.

She hooks one of your legs on her shoulders holding you up as she moves her middle finger to rub tight circles on your clit, making you moan from the sudden action. “Fuck, you sound so pretty.” She says as she removes her finger and replaces it with her tongue, circling your clit and going side to side, she starts to suck on your bud leaving you moaning from pleasure. “Ellie- oh my god. fuck, more.”

“Yeah?, what do you want baby, gotta hear you say it.” at this point her mouth on your sensitive clit was enough for you to barley form a sentence, yet you still yearned for more. “I want your fingers El. want em really bad.” You trail one hand down your body to her head, grabbing her hair pushing her deeper into your pussy. “Since you asked so nicely.” She barley gets out as you’re holding her close, she takes 2 fingers and gently pushes them in. Waiting to see if it’s too much for you. Of course it was not and you moan louder from the stretch of her fingers filling you up, she starts to move in and out of you. Hitting the spot with her long fingers every thrust.

Her other unoccupied hand moved up and underneath your sleep shirt squeezing at your tit and pinching your nipple which is enough to get you to the edge. “Oh fuck. Ellie i’m so close.” she hums into your pussy. “I want you to come on my fingers baby, give it to me.” she says looking up at your fucked out face. A few more thrust and you cum all over her fingers, making a mess on her hands, which she wasn’t complaining. If it wasn’t for your leg on her shoulder holding you up, you would’ve collapsed as you come down from your high.

“Oh my god, you did so good for me.” She says kissing your thigh and standing from her knees, she couldn’t help but suck your juices off of her fingers, holding eye contact with you. You pull her in for a kiss, lips molding with each other as you taste yourself off of her tongue. You both pull away and stare at each other with smiles.

“I should get downstairs.” Shes reaching for the door handle as you grab her wrist. “Just sleep up here tonight, please.” you give her a pleading look but it doesn’t seem to work on her. “Your brother wakes up really early for no reason, and if he sees i’m not there and i’m up here, he’ll kill us both and you know that”

You sigh, moving out the way so she can get through and open the door, as she’s about to close the door and go downstairs she turns around to you and gives you a passionate kiss. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning when we have to act like nothing happened.” She earns a giggle from you “Yeah, goodnight El.” she closes the door and heads downstairs to finally go off to bed.

In the morning, you and Ellie would not stop looking at each other and slightly giggling. “Guys. What the fuck is up with you two today.” your brother questions looking between you too as you turn to look at Ellie and she turns to look at you.

“Just. Long night I guess.”

[cloveroctobers]

santa, doesn’t know you like i do — 2. OBX [Winter Prompts: Multi]

A/N: Only episodes 1-6 exist to me! It’s the season of joy and that’s exactly what I’m attempting to bring with this! Happy reading!

WARNINGS: Language + gender neutral friendly! & Cleo’s is unfortunately the shortest.

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE! + I’m using: 014. sitting down to exchange and open gifts, anticipating what gift you may get. is it something cool or just another pair of socks? + 010. in the kitchen making the deserts for the big day, and perhaps even making a mess too! + 017. in the trenches of snow forts, amidst a war of a snow fight! who will win? & 019. traversing the treacherous conditions of icy pavements. will you laugh as they fall or lend them a hand and go down in solidarity?

<- read my previous winter anthology prompt here if you’re about it.

⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆

~ JJ MAYBANK ~

• I can make you fall too. So, tell me what's on your wishlist? I wanna make it come true 🎶

“…and this one is for…JJ.” Sarah reads off the personalized tag, picking up the last gift from the makeshift tree he managed to find at a sketchy tree farm.

Pope called it the ozempic tree and majority of the time, JJ spent his Christmas’ with Big John and John B (occasionally the Heyward’s too once they were up for JJ’s sparkling behavior) since it used to be his favorite holiday when they were kids. Now he was hosting Christmas’ on goat island, not to show off what he did with the place but simply because he could now.

“What?” JJ called over the music, standing by some huge stereo that he probably paid too much for.

He should have focused more on furniture like you tried to tell him but he didn’t care about that. All of the furniture in here was in good condition in his eyes—no matter the dust and the pieces he’s surfed on and broke—he would fix them in due time because he didnt need to get rid of what belonged to his blood family. He wanted to keep what was left, which stopped you from bringing up furniture talk.

This was JJ’s home and he deserved a good one for once.

Kie scoffed as she held onto her ukulele, “It’s for you idiot, open it!”

“And for the love of the most high, can we please play something else?!” Pope jumped up from the chair, almost knocking Cleo off the arm of it, making him quickly apologize, his hands going to her hips as he pressed rapid kisses to her cheek, before trading places with the boisterous blond.

JJ was tipsy, shades toppling out of his feathered hair, as he plucked the gift from Sarah’s hand then he plopped down by your legs on the floor to rest against the front of the couch. You were all proud of him, limiting his drinks to only special occasions, something JJ came up with all on his own.

It was the little things that still mattered.

He was a constant work in progress, take him as you will.

After the crap that was of last year, he wanted nothing more than to put that nightmare behind him. Time was still on his side and now JJ finally got to live it, day by day but with more warmth this time.

“I didn’t think I was on the secret santa list, since you know I’m the hostest with the mostest.” JJ winks at all the friends who groan at him.

You were all just glad he wasn’t wearing that crown on his head anymore from earlier, when he greeted you all at the front door in a terrible mix of a British or Australian accent.

Cleo shakes her head, “The holidays done made you soft, rude boy.”

“Sue me, Clee!”

“For money? I can just steal it ya know?” Cleo wiggles her fingers at her friend with a dimpled grin sent his way.

JJ quirks up a brow, “That’s not a battle I want to get into tonight. It’s all about,” he clears his throat, “Be of good cheer! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! It’s the hap-happiest time of the year!” He belts out.

“Make him stop, John B.” Sarah whines, covering her ears while John B sends a lazy smile at the friend that he was happy to call his brother.

All John B can come up with is, “Open up your gift already man, aren’t you curious?”

JJ flings one hand in the air with his cup of wine, yes red wine, this stuff was pretty good on a winter night, shout out to PawPaw Wes, but he stops short once he almost splashes some of it onto the carpet. When he looks over at you, who has their attention on their phone he nudged your knee with his elbow, “Be a peach and hold this for me, will ya?”

“Please?”

“Please, dollface?” JJ pushes his bottom lip out, leaving you to roll your eyes as you take the green plastic cup into one of your hands.

He goes to mumbling as he tears off the festive gift wrapping, “…It’s probably just some socks.”

“What’s wrong with socks?” Kie questions, “the fuzziest of socks are the best kind to keep your feet warm, skin soft-

“Blah, blah, blah.”

Kiara sucks her teeth, “okay, fuck you then.”

Which earns laughs from everyone as JJ reveals a box. He goes to shake it, noticing some tape keeping it together.

“Don’t shake it.” You say, making JJ’s blues turn to you, “It could be something fragile.”

The friends all shared a glance at this. The secret santa was Sarah’s idea and although they were under the influence, everyone seemed to be keeping track of who got who. John B got Kiara, Kiara got Sarah, Sarah got Pope, Pope got John B, JJ got Cleo, Cleo got you, and you guested it, you got JJ.

Everyone except JJ was keeping up.

“Alright, fine. You’re probably right,” JJ nods before turning back to the box while you visibly relaxed.

He’s using his teeth now to pull off some of the tape before yanking open the box. “Oh whoever did this, did a superb job. There’s even tissue paper! And it’s scented! Wait a minute…this smells a whole lot like…”

His eyes are in slits now and he wants to turn to you to confirm his suspicions but he’s also curious about what this gift is. Tossing the tissue paper any and everywhere, JJ pulls out this vintage toy bronco.

You exhaled, not sure what your friend’s reaction was as he sat beside you on the floor, “I know it’s not much but…you used to talk about owning one of these and how you used to have one kind of like this when you and JB were kids—

“Before my dad—Luke beat it up with a bat and chucked it into the garbage disposal. The damn thing spit back out and split his brow. Me letting a laugh slip out wasn’t my best move but he deserved that.” JJ told, making the room fill up with numerous amount of emotions at what a younger JJ would soon start to face on a regular.

You nod sitting on the edge of the couch now, “I got it personalized for you and everything: your favorite number on the hood, name on the side, and check out the license plate.”

JJ shifted the gray bronco to its back, letting a grin split over his lips, “PND-4L. That stand for what I think it does?”

“Uh huh.”

JJ drops his head, pinches at his brow and sniffs before lifting his head and letting out a deep sigh from his lips. He turns to you, eyes glistening in the dim of the Genrette home, “This is the best got damn gift I’ve ever received, bring it in you thoughtful thing you!”

Kiara quickly reaches out for the plastic cup, just as JJ doesn’t give you time to move afterwards, locking his arms around your waist and burying his head in your lap.

That was enough to make anyone’s heart swell, your hand going to his head as you lean to place a kiss right on top. “Glad you like it, J. Merry Christmas.”

“Like it? I love it! It’s going right on my bedside table.”

“And maybe it’ll be more motivation to actually get your own fucking car instead of stealing the Twinkie?” John B comments, rubbing at his eye.

JJ scoffs, “The Twinkie is a family car. This right here is part of the dream.” He holds the bronco up into the air before bringing it to his lips to kiss, “But I’m sure I’ve already got it.”

He mumbles that last bit as Pope puts on some r&b Christmas music instead, pulling Cleo up to dance while Kiara finishes off JJ’s wine before getting up to join the couple while strumming her ukulele and humming beautifully to the music, Sarah and John B share a tender kiss as they continue to lounge against each other, and you begin to comb your fingers through your friend’s hair.

“You’re probably the best gift giver here but sssh, don’t tell the others I said that.” JJ says, getting up to fully rest his head in your lap now.

He rests the car on his chest as you both go into your own hushed conversation, focus solely on each other as you continue to fall for each other, being the true definition of a slow burn.

| CLEO ANDERSON |

• He won't bring you somebody that loves you more than me, yeah 🎶

You’re yanked into the new and improved yet slightly messy wooden home as soon as Cleo set her brown eyes on you. You were careful as you tried to avoid a patch of flour and egg on the floor that was made into a smiley face before you then turned to an antsy Cleo. You could smell the sugar as soon as you stood on the steps of the old Maybank residence. Everything honestly felt unreal, something that you were all able to put together and work on as a family was back in your hands and a reality? It still didn’t feel real at times, being back at the home that was almost gone thanks to Luke’s snake ways and this place used to hold only darkness but the constant goal was to fill it only with light from now on.

Until your friends try to warn you otherwise before you entered the home.

“She’s worse than my military influenced uncle when it comes to the kitchen.” Pope mumbled to you, massaging the palm of his hand.

You frown as you held onto the ingredients in a reusable bag (that Kiara once gave you) that you were asked to bring on your back, “C’mon guys it can’t be that bad? We’ve been in the kitchen together before…had plenty of dinners together and Cleo’s always been fine.”

JJ scoffs as he plops down on the steps of his childhood home, “That’s just regular dinners y/n. The holidays makes people whackadoo!” He whistles a cuckoo tune before quickly glancing over his shoulder to make sure Cleo couldn’t hear him, “And Cleo is our own personal version of the bear when it comes to these desserts.”

Kiara snickers as she attempts to give JJ’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, “We were only allowed to focus on the dinner portion. The desserts are a whole new ball park and Cleo doesn’t want any of our help.”

“Only y/n’s.” John B grumbled, also appearing defeated.

You frown, sending a questioning glance to the brunette who’s leaning over the banister, glaring out at the view.

Sarah sighs, “John B got a nice scolding from Cleo…now there’s a delay with whatever last dessert she’s trying to make? Which is why—

“You guys needed me to bring the extras.” You confirm with a nod of your head before letting out a sigh, “Well I better not keep the lady waitin.”

John B scoffed, “She’ll hold off her venom a little when it comes to you.”

“I told you not to put the raisins in there, man.” JJ muttered with his elbows digging into his knees.

“Oh you think you have all the answers don’t you, Bobby Flay?” John B mouthed off, “When have you ever baked anything decent?”

JJ snorts as he squints looking away from the shifting sun,“I know raisins don’t belong in potato bread.”

“…well with some recipes in the Caribbean, does include raisins.” Pope spoke up with a light shrug of his shoulders.

John B holds his hands out to the brainiac in a see motion, “Thank you!”

JJ scowls, “Hey Pope, hey! Whose side are you on?”

As the boys bickered, Kiara and Sarah both rolled their eyes and snuck off around the wrap around porch just to get away from them, while you took the chance pushing the doors open to enter the revamped home. You can’t even blink before Cleo’s yanking at your wrist, pulling you into the (second) very open kitchen.

“Where’ve been? I want everything to be done by sundown and I’ve got to start this madness over because of freakin’ John b.” Cleo’s moving around the kitchen at lighting speed.

You nod, “I was just told…I also heard that you have other desserts too?”

“Yeah!” Cleo answers, “Guava Duff and pineapple upside down cake. It’s best to have tree options…especially with the way these fools eat.”

“So you want to remake the potato bread?”

Cleo placed her hands on her hips and deeply exhaled, “Yeah man, John B screwed it up mixing those turds into the batter! Not a fan! Coconut was just fine and you’re gonna love it.”

“I’ve actually developed an allergy out in Venezuela.” You admitted, “I’ll take your word for it though.”

Cleo frowns, “Huh? But the coconut lentil stew in Morocco? I thought—

“No don’t get me wrong, it was delicious and I didn’t want be too picky when we were all scrapping just to find a solid meal. I begged Sarah not to say anything when my eye swelled up later that night. Let’s just say…Kie and I had an adventourous time on the hunt for some inflammatories.”

“And you guys had rude boy to distract me,” Cleo fills in the blanks, “It all makes sense now.”

You offer a small smile but Cleo just shakes her head. She was too tired to realize then and think too much about what was going on. Cleo wouldn’t beat herself up too much about it but she wanted to make up for it.

“Could have told me ya know?” She takes the ingredients from the bag and starts putting them in the correct place but not without stopping to dump the contents in the bowls out into the trash again, “That’s cancelled.”

“What? No, the potato bread’s been the talk of the day…you should see it through.”

Cleo claps her hands, shushing you, followed with a wag of her finger, “No can do love…matter of fact, what’s your favorite dessert? I can make something with what we’ve got.”

There wasn’t a “maybe” in front of that statement at all. If Cleo had a plan, she was always going to see it through. Her brown eyes twinkled as they settled back on you, brow raised as she awaited for you to say anything that came to mind.

Once you revealed what your favorite dessert is, it only took the wavy haired girl a few moments to think if she had enough ingredients to whip it together for you.

“Well don’t just stand there, get over here and be my sous chef.” Cleo waved you over, “Make sure you scrub those hands in my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded and tossed in a joke, “wouldn’t want a repeat of JJ and Kie’s homemade corn dogs from the fourth.”

Both of you share a equal shudder as you stood shoulder to shoulder. Your eyes connected and Cleo sent you the sweetest smile, where both of her dimples easily appeared in her cheeks before she put her game face back on.

This was about to get hectic but you’d tolerate it because with chaos came love and you were certain that’s what this house would only be based on from this point on. Also if Cleo was going through all this trouble just for you?

Had to mean something…right?

| BARRY |

• I've been there through the good and bad, Know how to make you laugh, Kiss all your tears away, babe. Ooh, only I can do that 🎶

Snow in the Outerbanks wasn’t common but when it did, Barry liked to take advantage of it. He had the bright idea to start chucking snowballs at random people, specifically people coming out of their homes. He wanted to have a laugh whereas you wanted to build a snow fort.

He only went through with that because it would be your cover once your target tried to search the area for their culprit. The both of you were up to no good and it showed. The plan started off at the trailer, building forts on both sides of Barry’s land, which included Barry sneaking up and trying to stomp your fort out but not without a fight, before you shoved him back to his side.

“Anybody tell you your aim is trash, sunshine?!” Barry yells over his own fort, he’s been shit talking since the both of you started your first round at his place.

And frankly? You had enough so as soon as Barry lifted his head to look in your direction, you popped up with the swiftness and started windmilling two balls in his direction. The first ball hits Barry in the shoulder and the last? Clunks him right in the eye that had him doubling over.

“Bear?” You stopped celebrating as soon as you saw him holding his eye.

Barry huffed into the air, “Got damn! Did you hide a rock in there or sum?”

Cautiously you made your way over to the dark haired jack of all trades, wanting to be prepared that he wasn’t trying to sneak you as soon as you got close enough.

The way his eye had a nice pink ring around it was enough to tell you, he wasn’t joking.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, I didn’t know we was fightin’ dirty, dawg.” Barry tried to peek at you through the injured eye.

Giving a grimace you admit, “That ball did seem kind of hard.”

Barry snorts, “And here I thought you liked my ass but you really tryna to take my shit out, havin’ me walking around this bitch like popeye.”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to grip his face and hide the laughter that bubbled in your chest but Barry dodged your hands, “You know I’d never purposely hurt you.”

Barry scoffed but still said, “I know I know but now I got to take my frustrations out with my original plan.” He rubs his hands together, “Yeah…let’s take a ride out to figure eight.”

Suddenly now that didn’t seem like the best idea.

“Nah, stop them gears.” Barry pointed at you, which made you roll your eyes, “You owe me this.”

“Fine…but no snowballs that have undercover ice in them.”

Barry sent you a look, “Oh now you want to check for that shit for the sake of them uppity kooks instead of for the safety of your man? You know that shit don’t sound right to me.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Barry just hums.

Which leads to you two heading out to Rafe Cameron’s new residence. The both of you snuck around the back, thinking it would be easier to attack from.

“Look at country club, done leveled up.” Barry snickers to himself after he dusted off his hands from building yet another fort for the both of you to hide behind.

You shrug, finding that all these beach homes looked the same, “How do we even know he’s home?”

“He’s home alright, probably up in there stressin’ over stupid shit when he’s got it made.” Barry comments.

You’ve seen their relationship play out, the good and the bad—mostly the bad and still found it interesting that the both of them chose to pop back into their lives whenever they felt like it.

Barry’s got the binoculars spying on the home, while you got tired of standing around for what felt like forever. Choosing to pick at your nails and sit on your knees until they started to lose feeling in them. Just as you’re about to announce that you’re ready to go back home, Barry yanks on your wrist to get you back into a squatting position.

“There he go!” Barry whisper-yells to you, as you peek over the lopsided fort to indeed see Rafe on his back deck, staring out at the view towards his right.

Barry’s got a wicked dimple of a smirk on his face, hands skillfully rolling a ball together before he pops up, “Merry Christmas, Abercrombie!”

He should have been a baseball player with the way he cocked his arm back, putting in extra strength to launch the ball into the air and landed it right in between Rafe’s furrowing brows.

Barry is a laughing mess while you watch Rafe swipe the show from his irritated face. His head snaps towards you two, hand going to his forehead to block out the specs of sun that shines through the gray clouds. Your eyes go wide at being caught, your hand grabbing Barry by the elbow, to set off into a run after you spot Rafe moving around his deck to head down towards you two.

“Ain’t nobody scared of, Rafe. Baby, slow down—

Barry tried to say just as you slipped on a patch of ice. Your feet go right up into the air, fingertips slipping from Barry’s puffer jacket, eyes closing as you wait for impact.

It happened in slow motion for you but quickly for Barry. He can’t help but to laugh at your cartoon ass fall, before he hears Rafe yelling from behind. Barry scrambles forward, hands attempting to grab you up by the pits but ends up slipping over your body, head first into a bank of snow that was pushed up on the sidewalk.

A mocking laughter from Rafe echoes into the sky from behind the both of you while you feel like you’re stuck in place.

“I dunno what you laughing at, country club! Ain’t shit funny!” Barry roars, after lifting his head from the snow, middle finger raised right in the air.

Rafe is snapping pictures now but keeps his distance, “That’s what y’all idiots get! Trying to fuck with me.”

“Ever heard of salt?” Barry sits up with his elbows pressing into his knees.

“Nah, now I’m definitely not paying anyone to do that around here if it keeps you two off my property.” Rafe says before motioning to Barry’s damp appearance, “You got a little something all over.”

“Yeah you talkin’ real tough.”

Barry stops his bickering with Rafe after he picks up on some sniffing. His head snaps to you, “Hey…” he starts moving over to you.

He’s trying to help you up but a scream, makes both twenty something year old’s stare at you in alarm.

⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎

Barry ended up kissing your tears away the whole trip to urgent care. It helped some but the muscle relaxers, and some weed really did their thing. The both of you are seated on Barry’s couch, he’s got an ice pack pressed right against the ring around his eye (given by you) that officially bruised up, and he cradled a beer bottle while the both of you sat in silence watching some sitcom on a old tv set that belonged to his nonna.

You’re now sporting a neck brace, thanks to a sprain and suddenly catch each other’s side eye, before erupting in laughter together.

“Told you you’ll never get bored with me, huh, sunshine?” Barry winks at you, gold grills gleaming at you while you hold onto the brace, to subside the slight ache while you laughed.

Barry rests his head back against the length of the couch, letting this position hold the ice pack for him now, before sliding his hand over to squeeze your thigh, with your hand resting right on top of his.

⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎‧*❆₊⋆

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Disguise

Ronald Speirs X Soldier! Reader

Summary: Y/n is hiding as a men in order to fight, but Speirs finds out...

Warning: Misgender/ use of Y/n/ inaccuracies of the show (it's been a while since I've watched it)/ swearing/

Word count: 1k

A/n: Band of Brothers fics! Yeah!!! Like I said, it's been a while since I've watched BoB, and I'm in my finals so it might not be 100% accurate.

Cold, she was cold. Y/n was hiding in her foxhole, freezing her tits off. But she couldn’t say it out loud, since she was under disguise. She wanted to do her part, not as a nurse or anything, she wanted to fight. So, she cut her hair, taped her boobs and talked in a low voice. But now, in Bastogne, she was afraid that she would be discovered. The only person that knew was Eugene Roe, because she got hurt on her rib and he saw the bandages holding her tits. He promised that he wouldn’t say anything, for now, he didn’t reveal her secrets.

It's been a while since she could get her hands on scissors to cut her hair, the only pair that she could find were immediately seized by Eugene, he needed it. Her hair was long enough for her to braid, so that’s what she did at night, her hair was in a crowned braid, it was easy to hide under her helmet. Some boys were questioning her lack of beard, her answer was that she couldn’t grow facial hair. In the beginning, it was easy to hide herself, but when Ronald Spiers came, it was hard. He was one of the best soldiers she’d ever seen, he saved them from Lieutenant Dike and the mess he put Easy into. That night, Spiers talked to Y/n and she began to have a crush on him. ‘’What’s on y’a mind?’’ Eugene asked her. They shared the same foxhole; it was his way to protect her in case guys discovered that she was a woman and they wanted to touch her in an inappropriate way. ‘’Nothing, I’m just fucking cold’’ she replied. ‘’Renee gave me chocolate, want some?’’ he offered her a piece of candy, she took it, thanked him and ate the piece.

The sun was rising, the smell of soup filled her nostrils. ‘’Reed, want some?’’ Bill Guarnere asked, handing a cup to her. ‘’Yeah, thanks’’ she replied in her men voice, she got up from her foxhole and took the cup. ‘’Boys’’ Captain Winters greeted the men. ‘’Captain’’ they all said, saluting him. ‘’Got any words on Dike?’’ he asked. ‘’Nope, he ran away like a little girl!’’ Lipton joked, making the men laugh. Y/n laughed with a deep voice. Speirs came walking towards the men, Y/n took a cup and filled it with soup. ‘’Lieutenant, soup?’’ she offered, he took the cup and began eating. Nixon called Winters, the two men began talking, Winters smiled. That’s how Y/n understood that they were leaving the cold hell. ‘’Guys! Good news, we’re leaving Bastogne! Pack your things we’re leaving at 1000’’ he ordered. Men started to cheer around, Y/n smiled and pat Gene’s back.

The Sisters were signing, Y/n was in another room. When Easy arrived in that church, one Sister took the ‘men’ aside and instantly knew her secret. So, Y/n was put in another room so she could take the bandage off, to free a breast a little. They also allowed her to take a shower. ‘’Sister, you won’t tell anyone about me, are you?’’ she questioned. The older woman shook her head. ‘’You, my dear, are a soldier. Not a man, not a woman, a soldier, you fight for us, and I’m grateful for that’’ she took Y/n’s hands and she explained. ‘’Thank you’’ Y/n whispered. She could hear the singing, but she just wanted to rest. Y/n laid on the small bed and waited for sleep to get her, but it never did. Instead, someone barged in the small room, unaware of the woman. Y/n didn’t try to cover herself, since she thought it was Sister Margaret, but it wasn’t. ‘’Private Reed?’’ Ronald Speirs asked, confused by the situation. He opened the door to reveal a woman laid in a bed, that woman looked just like Private Reed. ‘’Shit, fuck’’ he heard the woman mumble as she tried to cover up. ‘’Uh, yes, Lieutenant Spiers?’’ she stuttered. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. ‘’You’re a, uh, girl?’’ he asked confused. Y/n took a deep breath and scoffed at the word girl. ‘’Woman, yes, I am’’ she replied, a little offended.

He closed the door behind him, to avoid anyone else finding out about her. ‘’How?’’ he asked, sitting in the small stairs in front of the door. ‘’How what?’’ He pointed her body. ‘’Put bandages on my breasts, cut my hair, braided them when they were too long, and I used my middle and last name to enter. Blake Reed’’ she explained. ‘’What’s your real name?’’ he asked. ‘’Y/n, sir’’ she said, afraid that he was going to rat her out. ‘’Nice to really meet you, Y/n’’ he said, smiling. She smiled nervously, what was going on. She was risking a lot, she could die! ‘’Are you going to tell everyone?’’ she asked, her voice cracking at the same time. He shook his head. ‘’What would be the benefit of that? We don’t have enough soldiers, and from what I’ve heard, you’re a goddamn good soldier’’ he simply said. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek at the semi compliment. ‘’Uh, thank you, Lieutenant’’ she stuttered. He checked her out, she had an amazing body, her uniform was definitely hiding stuff. ‘’Can I offer you a smoke?’’ he proposed. She smirked, was he going to kill her? ‘’Thank you, but, uh, I don’t smoke’’ she politely declined. ‘’You should get ready; we’re getting sent to another place’’ he said. She nodded as an agreement as he left the room.

When she gets into the bigger room, she sees Speirs talking with Winters. Her mind starts to spin, what the hell is he talking about? ‘’Blake? Where have you been?’’ Luz asks. ‘’I’ve been walking around town’’ she lied with her man voice. ‘’Boys, sit down!’’ Winters ordered, Y/n went to sit beside Lipton, with a lump in her throat. She was nervously playing with her fingers. ‘’We’re going to another town. Dike is nowhere to be seen, so Lieutenant Spiers is now your captain’’ Winters announces. Y/n takes a deep breath as she rises from the bench, just like the others, to salute their new Captain. As he was being saluted, Spiers looked at Y/n and smiled, she was a brave and beautiful woman, he had a lot of respect for her, and a little bit of a crush…

[luveline]

Hopper requests? Say less…😂 How about something wholesome with El? Like Hopper was worried about El warming up to reader but he ends up having nothing to worry about?

I love your writing by the way!

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1k

Hopper loves El like any father loves their daughter, any parent their child, which is to say, he loves her and he knows her flaws. She’s a great kid but she has her problems, just as he does. 

She’s angry sometimes, and she can’t cope with things she doesn’t like, and honestly, she’s allowed to be mad at the world (or at least he thinks so), but again, he loves her. He has to teach her that she can’t always get what she wants, even when she deserves it. 

He’s a little tough on her. He’s been a bad dad to her, sometimes, he knows that. He doesn’t deserve her, but he’ll keep trying. 

He doesn’t deserve you, either, but he has you. 

He’s not expecting you in his home, though. He’s barely mentioned you to El —he didn’t know how she’d react. It hasn’t been that long since her last outburst.

“What does that mean?” she asks. 

Your shoes are by the door, he’d know your beaten up sneakers anywhere, and El’s talking to someone with their head turned away from the door. It’s dark, the only light from the TV and the weak orange kitchen lamp, but he can tell it’s you. 

“What does what mean?” you ask. 

He panics and relaxes, a paradox of behaviour as he closes the door softly behind him. His head races with thoughts of what El might do without a pep talk before meeting you even as his hands itch to be on you. He hasn’t seen you for a few days, which is a few too many in his book. 

“Respect.”

“You and Hop must’ve talked about respect before.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Well, some people think respect is earned, and some people think you should have it anyways. I think it’s both, you know? It’s kindness and… politeness. You respect your dad by keeping your room clean, and saying thank you for dinner, and he respects you by saying thank you for keeping your room clean, and making you dinner. Though he should pretty much always be making you dinner. Does that make sense?” 

He can’t not be soothed by you. The way you’re talking to her melts his heart. 

“No,” El says succinctly. 

Hopper holds in a laugh. 

“Um… okay. So, I respect your dad–”  

“Hop?” 

“Yeah, baby,” you say gently. “Sorry. I respect Hop because he’s a good man. So I try to be good to him. He respects me for some reason,” —you notice him and give him a flirty, sweet, slightly nervous smile— “so he opens doors for me and tucks my chair in at the dinner table.” 

“He puts my coat on the hook for me.” 

You nod happily. “Right! That’s respect. And love, too.” 

“You’re here?” Hopper asks. 

El turns to him with a timid smile to match yours. “I let her in. She did the knock.” 

“I didn’t realise it was secret,” you explain. “You do it sometimes, on the side of the car door. I couldn’t get you at the station, I thought you were home–” 

“It’s okay.” He leans down to drop a kiss against your crown. “S’fine,” he says into your skin. “I can see you’re all introduced.” The secret knock isn’t even really in practice anymore. 

“She’s your girlfriend?” El asks him. 

Hopper doesn’t answer. Girlfriend feels odd sometimes when you’re older, because you’re a lot more than what the word might imply, but he likes the idea of it, too. “I wanted to introduce you on Friday. You know, the special dinner I mentioned?” 

“Right. Why I need to clean my room,” El says, frowning. 

“Exactly.” Hopper pats her back where she’s sat across from you. 

“Now I don’t need to anymore?” 

“No, you do,” Hopper says. 

El frowns deeper. “Because I respect you.” 

“Maybe one day.” 

El’s only recently re-entered society. She’s stressing Hopper out, what with it being summer soon and her growing curiosity for the world, and he’s worried she won’t get along with people because she’s behind in terms of experience, but mostly he’s sick of arguing with her about leaving the bath water in and how much sugar she’s allowed each day.

He’d hoped to explain things to you in better detail. El’s a special case. She needs more patience than most kids (and maybe she doesn’t always get it). He didn’t doubt you’d be good to her, and it’s still a shock when you reach across the table to hold her hand and she doesn’t yank hers away. 

“I can help, if you want. It gets overwhelming sometimes,” you say. 

“How come you don’t help?” El asks Hopper. 

“Because you don’t need help putting your clothes in the laundry, kid, you just don’t like doing it.” 

“What Hop doesn’t understand is that we’re girls and we have better stuff to do,” you say, stroking the back of her hand with your thumb. 

You have dinner together, and you watch a movie. Hopper can’t believe how well it goes, or how much El seems to like you. She sits between you and Hopper on the couch in demonstration of her lack of tact and he can tell you don’t care. He doesn’t care either. In a way, it’s nice to spoil El with affection she’s not used to having. Joyce is always, always kind to El when they see one another, but that’s not often. He hadn’t realised how badly El wanted some motherly attention, or how quick you are to give it. 

He should’ve guessed. You’re nice to him, and he’s an idiot. 

“I wish it was longer,” El whispers. Hopper looks over her head at you. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling her hair in a circle around your finger. “It looks so pretty like this.” You ruffle her hair and tuck it behind her ear. 

El shivers at the touch. “You think I'm pretty?” 

“Doesn’t Hop tell you you’re beautiful?” 

“No,” El says. 

Hopper winces. You just smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She’s small enough for you to squeeze. “He doesn’t tell me much either, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think it,” you whisper. “How could he not, huh? You’re beautiful.” 

“You’re both real pretty,” he says with a sigh, spitting it out now to get it over with. “Notice how nobody tells me I’m pretty and I don’t complain?” 

“You’re handsome,” you say, grabbing the top of his shoulder, and rubbing it kindly. You lift your chin for a kiss and he gives it without thinking. 

“Oh, ew,” El says, ducking away from you both in disgust. 

“It was a peck!” Hopper says. 

“Gross.” 

“Go make yourself some ice cream, kid.”

She hums happily and jumps up off of the couch. You laugh as he pulls you into the space she’s left behind, sighing as he hugs you tightly to his chest. “I think she likes me,” you say. 

Hopper snorts. “You think?” 

[captain039]

The lords servant

Astarion x reader

Warnings: plus size reader, light swearing, vampire things, sexual, first times, eventual smut, self consciousness, anxiety

It was your first day working in this magnificent mansion. One of the many lords of Baldurs gate lived here. Lord Astarion Ancunin, rather quiet and lived in solitude of his mansion, rarely coming out in any occasion, though once a year he held a grand party, the grandest in the city, none of the other lords dared compete. You were one of ten servants who kept the house clean and running. You had servants quarters, rather luxury one at that, the bed was extra comfortable and you had a divider between each of the beds. It was your first offical day, you’d been here for two days settling in and getting shown where everything was and how things worked. You were to start with cleaning the main hall today. You grabbed your supplies and headed to the main hall, the place was clean already, but apparently it needed more attending to, so you did as asked. You were in your head as you cleaned, too busy with your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the lord on the stairs smirking at you till you turned around. You had jumped a mile at his presence and apologised, head bowed.

“I didn’t hear you approach my lord” you said and heard him chuckle lightly as he walked to you.

“Quite alright, you seemed miles away” he said before you felt his finger under your chin to lift your head up. You stared a little shocked as he smiled, his red eyes captivating you instantly.

“You’re new yes?” He asked the smile still gracing his lips.

“Yes my lord, I arrived two days ago” you nodded avoiding his eyes.

“Hm, your name? I’m afraid I don’t oversee our new servant hirings” he said and you told him your name. He repeated it and you swore a shiver ran up your spine.

“Hopefully your stay here is long” he grinned and you flushed looking to the floor.

“I will work as long as I can I hope, lodgings here are quite comfortable” you joked, but it came out nervous making you curse yourself silently.

“Oh? I do intend my servants to be well provided for, an unhappy servant is a useless one” he hummed.

“Thank you sir, it is quite generous of you” you nodded.

“My lord” you heard the butler speak as he rushed down the stairs.

“What is it now Daenan?” The lord sighed.

“We’ve received a letter” the butler said obviously holding some secret, but it wasn’t your business.

“Ah excellent, excuse me darling, i must attend to this” he said, your whole body going warm at the pet name.

“Of course my lord” you nodded.

“I’ll see you again no doubt” he smiled before leaving and you felt a sigh of relief leave you. Gods he was handsome, pale hair oddly red eyes, beautiful features, most elves were beautiful, but he seemed to take the crown almost. You continued your day of cleaning, washing dishes and doing what the head servant said. Strange thing was the lord didn’t have any meals, no dinner was prepared, only the servants ate. You thought nothing of it, perhaps he had meals brought to his room or office for privacy.

The night came rather quickly, only candles lighting the mansion now, not that it mattered, the curtains were heavy and always closed, perhaps he was sensitive to the sun, most elves were more sensitive to things than humans. You had done your last round as asked going down the hall back to the servants room only to be stopped by a noise. You frowned a bit seeing a door slightly open and shallow breathing filling your ears. You froze cheeks ablaze as you went to retreat the other way. This was the only way to the quarters though! Damn the gods were cruel this night. You moved very slowly and quietly hearing soft moans from a woman, you kept your eyes to the ground, for some reason you looked up though, instantly regretting it. The lord had a woman pressed against the wall, his face in her neck, her skirt bunched up at her stomach, his hips moving into hers. You quickly looked away and practically ran back to the quarters noticing one bed empty, Elra’s.

Morn came and you heading to the kitchen to await orders.

“New girl” the head servant Vera cocked her head to you. You went to her as the other servants left.

“Lords asked you to his quarters” she said and left without explanation. Oh gods it’s only been one day and you’ve already messed up. You dreaded the whole walk there before knocking on his office door.

“Come in” he called voice too inviting. You walked in closing the door softly and kept your head down.

“You sent for me, my lord?” You said hands clasped in front of you. You heard him rise from his chair and his footsteps come closer to you, before you saw boots in your view.

“I did” he said finger tilting your chin up again. His eyes looked brighter in the fire lit room, something swirling in him, his skin seemed richer too.

“Have I done something wrong, my lord?” You asked and he shook his head smiling.

“Of course not my dear” he chuckled softly.

“I only want to ask a question” he said turning away from you and going to his desk.

“Did you see anything last night?” He asked and your whole body tensed as you replayed the memory in your mind.

“No my lord, all was quiet” you lied hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

“Excellent, quiet is what we like” he smirked looking to you again.

“That is all, you can breathe and go” he chuckled sitting back down.

“Oh- yes my lord, have a good day” you bowed your head and quickly left, if you had a tail it’d be tucked between your legs. You breathed out a big sigh as you went back to the kitchen to receive new orders.

Your days were normal, mainly cleaning of the mansion, attending to the garden, washing the dishes, making food for yourself and the other servants, but never the lord. Whether he received special food from another cook, you didn’t know. You were always the last one to make rounds around the house, the lord was rather keen on keeping his home in order, gods forbid someone dare try to break in. Problem was one your way back his office door always seemed slightly ajar and you always heard the low breathing and moans of one of the other servants, his head hurried in their necks, hips moving against theirs, pure pleasure on their faces. It made you heat up and dart away, it was hard to avoid, you’d always shield your eyes now and tiptoe by before bolting the rest of the way. During the day the master practically lived in his study, his butler delivering letters and other things in and out.

You had finished your rounds once again, checking everything before heading to your quarters. You kept your head down and eyes shielded as you approached the lords room.

“What are you hiding from?” You jolted in surprise seeing him standing outside the door, arms crossed with a smirk on his face.

“Uh-“ you quickly moved your hand cursing silently.

“Nothing my lord, I was um-“ you thought about a lie and gave up seeing his smirk still plastered on your face.

“You know hearing you tip toe by then bolt is rather amusing” he said and you felt your cheeks go red hot.

“Why not indulge in ourselves why we’re here, have a little fun, I know they certainly enjoy it” He said playfully and you kept your eyes to the ground wishing the ground would swallow you up. Gods this was embarrassing you should’ve just slept in one of the spare rooms, no one would notice if you got back early.

“Why do you keep those pretty eyes down” you froze as his finger lifted your chin up again and you stared at his Ruby eyes.

“Oh I see” he had a grin on his face, what did he see? Your dying embarrassment.

“Has a man never touched you?” He asked voice low and husky making a shiver run up your spine.

“Or woman perhaps?” He added and you shook your head moving your head from his chin and looking to the ground in shame. Why would anyone touch you? Did he not have good eye sight? You were hideous.

“Please excuse me my lord” you said voice shaky.

“Oh, of course” he said as you gave one last glance to his confused face as you left.

You sighed going to the shared bathroom. You stripped your clothes, wrapped a towel around your body and began to run the water. You sighed looking in the mirror and pinching your cheeks. You looked down your body, the towel almost too small for it, you groaned quietly looking away from the mirror quickly not wanting to get lost in that hole. You poured some scented oil in the bath before stopping the water. You laid your towel on the chair by the mirror and stepped into the bath with a sigh. The warm water soothed your muscles as you closed your eyes and leant back. Images flashed through your mind though, your body pressed against a cold wall, a hand pleasuring you, lips marking your neck and a warm body against yours. White hair tickling your nose as he whispered praises in your ear.

You jolted eyes opening and staring, gods what was wrong with you?! This was your lord! The one you served. He wouldn’t see you in that way, not with the way your looks and body were, he was teasing that’s all, you were easy prey.

You washed your body before hoping out the bath and drying. You brushed your hair before putting on a nightgown and going to bed. You wouldn’t be easy prey, not anymore.

Next part ->

[ugotcooneycrossed]

take a look at my girlfriend (she's the only one i got)

leah williamson x reader

w/c: ~1k

captain leah is proud of all her accomplishments- but calling you her girlfriend is her favourite

a/n: au where leah doesnt [redacted]😩😭

also i think its important to know that this song is based off of cupids chokehold- which i thought said CUCKHOLD😭 so when i googled it, p**n popped up😭

------------------------------------------------------------

If you’d ask Leah what her favourite award that she’s brought home is, some might think she’d answer with the Euro trophy- and yes, while she does love that one.   

She definitely loves you more.

She knows because, you’re the only she doesn’t mind, that interrupts her beauty sleep. You’re the first thing she thinks of in the morning and the last thing she thinks of before she sleeps. Leah thinks that if she had to choose between you and the sun- she’d never see the light of day again. And she’s okay with that. As long as you’re by her side.

She wakes to you kissing her bare shoulder, your fingers brush her hair back and smooth it over.

“Leah babe, come on- we have to get to the stadium soon, need I remind you we have a game?”

Leah hums- cracking an eye open, you sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at her softly.

“Pancakes?”

“Of course, they’re waiting for you in the kitchen babe.”

Leah pulls you down into a kiss- and you melt into each other’s embrace, melding together like two puzzle pieces. You let her distract you with kisses- cuddling in bed for a few more moments. You pull away, when you feel her cold fingers graze your stomach- slapping her hand away, you move to stand up.

“Leah Williamson! Stop! You have to get ready.”

You leave her in bed with a final kiss to the crown of her head and Leah melts back into the covers- she’d retire if it meant you could stay in bed for a couple more hours.

“Leah!”

-

You sit with Leah in the change room, you always arrive a few moments before most of the other girls- Leah says it’s because she’s captain and needs to be here earlier than the others but you know she likes the quiet with you before the girls arrive.

The conversation between you two is mundane, something about what groceries you need to get later today. Honestly, Leah hasn’t been paying attention because she’s been admiring the way you absentmindedly run your fingers along her arm and the way you unconsciously move closer to her- by now you’re half in her lap.

“Lee?”

Leah snaps out of her daydream of you and presses a kiss to your hand.

“Yeah babe.”

“Oh… nothing I love you.”

It fills Leah with  a special kind of warmth- knowing that you are hers, and hers alone. She loves you, and you love her.

She loves the way you know exactly what she needs after a hard day.

She loves the way you’ve supported her through thick and thin- through every win, and every loss. You’ve done it together. Right by each other’s side.

Leah knows what love is because of you.

“You guys are sickening- truly.”

Katie’s loud laugh echoes as you chase her out the doors.

-

Leah’s got a little skip in her step as she makes her way to where you sit on the bench. It’s half-time and she’s already spent but seeing you brings a newfound energy.

She stops in front of you tapping her cheek, you smooth her hair back, smile and press a delicate kiss to her cheek, that has her smiling from ear to ear.

Just before she goes back on the field for the second half- she stops you, initiating your secrete handshake. Leah pulls you into a last-minute hug after, rubbing your back and kissing your neck- she whispers into your ear.

“My good luck charm.”

-

You’re at home injured during an away game- Leah’s missed you terribly, and much to the dismay of her teammates she’s been very cranky.

“Come on Lee, just a few more hours, then you can see your girl again. You can hold out till then, can’t you?”

The look she sends Gio has the younger girl crashing back into her seat next to Katherine- the pair smiling nervously at their captain.

Leah ends up sulking in her seat the entire journey home.

Eventually, finally Leah comes home to you asleep on the couch- and she tries to be quiet, but when her bags hit the floor and your head shoots up, she knows it’s too late.

You jump of the couch, flailing around- injury long forgotten as you jump in her arms.

“Leah! Baby I missed you so much!”

Leah doesn’t care enough to pack away, or shower- all she does is climb in bed with you resting comfortably in her arms once again.

-

Leah’s doing the dishes, after you’ve made dinner- an agreement when you found she couldn’t even make toast without something going wrong.

“What are you doing smiling at the dirty dishes?”

“Just thinking about how I’m going to marry you one day. Speaking of, will you marry me?”

“Win a world cup first, then I’ll consider it.”

-

Leah shoots off as soon as the final whistle blows- there’s only one person she’d rather share this moment with. She finds you standing alone- eyes closed soaking in the moment of just winning the world cup.

She crashes into you and lifts you up in a bone crushing hug- pulling you into a kiss, both of you too wrapped up in your own world to notice the cameras capturing the sweet moment.

“We did it baby!”

You hold each other- crying softly together before the team end up crushing you both in hugs. You can see them all yelling, screaming, and crying.

But it’s only Leah you hear. In the midst of the chaos of your team celebrating, with Ella yelling at the top of her lungs, it’s only Leah you hear.

“You’ll marry me now, yeah?”

You nod- pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Leah Williamson I would marry you in a heartbeat.”          

-

Leah still buzzing off of the win when she’s whisked away to post-match interviews. She’s sure her smile hasn’t left her face, and it only grows bigger when they show the clip of her running to you.

“Yeah that’s my fucking girlfriend!”

[unholybacon355]

Late Present

Nayeon x Male Reader

Words Count: 6.3k

A/N: Hope you enjoy reading this because I had a great time writing it. Originally this was supposed to be not longer than 2k words (Even shorter if I could) but the most I wrote the most I wanted to add things, and at the end the result is this.

Again. Hope you have fun and enjoy reading this.

That day after dinner you had received a message from your girlfriend. In it she said that she had left you a video in a shared folder in the cloud, but that you couldn't open it until you were completely alone. Well, now it was already night and you were lying in your room. That qualified as being completely alone. Although of course, you were still at your parents' house so you would have to use headphones to watch the video on your laptop.

It was the second week of January and you were visiting your parents' house, in the town where you had grown up. Now lying in your childhood bed you placed the computer on your lap and opened the video. A shot of the bathroom in the apartment you shared with your girlfriend instantly appeared on your screen. It wasn't a very big place but at least it had a bathtub, and that was exactly what you were looking at.

The video showed a shot of the bathtub filled with water about half full and some candles placed on the shelves of the walls. For now there was no sign of your girlfriend or anyone or anything else. After something like a minute you heard noise coming from outside the shot, and after a few more seconds your girlfriend appeared on the scene while smiling at the camera and making a greeting gesture with her hand. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. wearing a white coat, and at first glance nothing more than two adorable pink bows in her blonde hair, which made it fall into two pigtails, one on each side of her face. The robe, on the other hand, only partially showed her legs, from the knees down.

“Hi babe. I hope you're having a good time at your parents' house. I... Well, I wanted to give you one last Christmas gift. I know it's been weeks but as you know I was very busy and didn't have time to do it before.” Nayeon smiled at the camera as if apologizing for the delay. “Anyway, it's better that you receive it now that we're not together, so you'll miss me even more.” With a small giggle she stood up and slipping her robe off her shoulders let it fall to the floor, where it piled up next to her feet. Nayeon was obviously completely naked under the robe, which now made for an interesting contrast to her hair decorations.

Quickly understanding where this was going, you paused the video and got up to lock the door and turn off the light in the room. You lay down again with the laptop on your stomach, but this time you undress completely before returning to bed. You were ready to enjoy your girlfriend's gift without interruptions, so you pressed play once again.

Nayeon instantly turned around, showing her full body in front of the camera, and still with that smile on her face, she asked. “Oppa, do you like what you see?” Oppa. She always drove you crazy when she used that word, because she only used it in private. It was like something secret for the two of you. On the other hand of course you liked what you saw. Nayeon's smooth skin completely exposed to you, her small but firm breasts crowned with those beautiful light brown nipples, her delicious ass, or even her hands and feet. Everything about your girlfriend drove you crazy, obviously so did the place where her legs met, that magnificent place of pleasure with silky lips and a small mop of hair that Nayeon liked to keep to frame the beauty of her crotch.

The mere sight of your naked girlfriend was enough to make you hard instantly. You took the liberty of starting to caress yourself very slowly while she leaned down to light one by one the candles that she had placed before. Then your girlfriend left the frame and you saw how the light went out. When Nayeon re-entered the shot, her skin shone with the yellowish glow of the candlelight. There were several of them, and they were placed strategically, so you could actually still see quite well. That is if now interesting shadows were created here and there, making the contrast help to better highlight Nayeon's curves, which made your cock throb in your hand.

Your girlfriend got into the bathtub and sat inside facing the camera. The water covered her up to the height of her ribs, and as a result of the reflection of the candles you could hardly see what was below. “I hope you enjoy my gift.” Nayeon shyly bit her lower lip before leaning back against the wall of the tub and starting to play with her breasts.

At first it was just gentle touches and caresses on her nipples, but soon she began to get a little more daring and use her fingers to play and press her delicate pleasure buttons. You heard a small moan through your headphones, and that made you start moving the hand that was stroking your cock a little faster. But just a little faster, you didn't want to rush things because you imagined that wouldn't be all.

Soon more moans began to leave Nayeon's mouth, as she became more energetic with the caresses of her nipples. “Love, I miss your mouth on my tits so much. It always made me so wet when you suck my nipples." Your cock throbbed at the memory of her hard nipples in your mouth.

Now your girlfriend lowered her hand to caress her belly and put it under the water, which could only mean that she was taking care of the most sensitive part of her. New and louder moans confirmed your suspicions. While one hand rolled one of her nipples, the other created small waves on the surface of the water, which further distorted her vision. It was clear that Nayeon was enjoying the moment, as she had now tilted her head back so you could only partially see her face, but you knew from firsthand experience that her cheeks had turned red, and that her mouth was hanging open in a silent moan.

Now the only sound you heard was the water crashing against the edges of the bathtub, and Nayeon's heavy breathing. But you could see how her arm moved, and how her hand completely took one of her breasts to give it gentle squeezes, before releasing it and going back to playing with just the nipple. You had to admit that the shadow that the candles created on your girlfriend's tits made them look even more appetizing, and also made you salivate.

Just as you were going to start properly masturbating, Nayeon stopped her movements, sitting up straight again and removing her hand from the water. In fact, you could see how her cheeks were red, but what she did next didn't give you time to appreciate the pretty blush on her skin. Well, as you had seen many times, she put her hand on her mouth to clean her own juices from her fingers. Nayeone sucked her digits as if they were a cock, making eye contact with the camera and opening her mouth so you could see how her tongue ran over every curve of her fingers, collecting the precious nectar.

“Fuck, I'm so delicious.” Nayeon exclaimed when her fingers were clean. The taste of her nectar was something you knew quite well, so you could confirm that it really was delicious. You loved drinking it straight from her crotch, eating her until she came in your mouth while she held you in position by wrapping her legs around your head. And she loved sucking your cock when it was soaked with her own juices, because above all things Im Nayeon greatly enjoyed herself during sex.

You knew that behind this loving gesture of recording a video so that you could touch yourself thinking about her, there was also the fact that Nayeon loved the attention. She loved being the center of attention and being told how beautiful she was, because she knew she was, but that didn't mean she was going to be unfaithful to you. Each and every time she had rejected the people who made advances to her, because she loved you and only you. Nayeon needed the eyes of the world on her, but she only had eyes for you. Which made you a pretty lucky person, because to be honest your girlfriend was way above your league.

“Have you enjoyed it so far?” Of course you were enjoying it, your hard cock was enough proof of that. "I hope so. But don't despair because the best comes now.” Nayeon blew a kiss to the camera before getting down on her knees, once again revealing her lower body, then she turned around and leaned over to show you her butt. “Do you see well?” She asked as if you would be able to answer her, but you were grateful for the gesture of her keeping the conversation alive at a time like this. Then with a giggle she used one of her hands to grab one butt cheek and stretch it a little, letting you see a metallic sheen where her anus should have been.

“Damn naughty girl.” You exclaimed involuntarily, at the revelation that Nyeon had had a plug in her butt this entire time. You smiled wondering why you hadn't seen it coming, especially when you knew your girlfriend really liked those types of toys. Nayeon had a wide variety of them, and she liked to use them whenever she could. For your part, in the most diverse situations you liked to put your hand in her pants or under her skirt, to check if she was wearing one of them. For example, you knew that she loved going to the nearest store with a plug plugged into her butt, or going for short walks in the park carrying her favorite plug.

“Mmnnghh Oppaaaaaaa… I miss you. I want your hand to be the one that holds my buttock. Or would you rather spank me because I've been a bad girl?” She then released her buttock to hit him with her hand, which was accompanied by a small moan. The thing was, you weren't sure if she deserved a punishment for being a bad girl, or instead she deserved a gift for being like that. In any case, you would have to deal with that dilemma later because right now you were more busy watching how your girlfriend opened her butt again with one hand and with the other began to play with the plug that she had plugged in.

Small moans from Nayeon let you know that she was really enjoying the little tugs she gave the toy. She held it tightly by the base with the tips of her fingers, and pulled on it until the widest part threatened to come out of her rectum, then she let go and the toy entered her ass again on its own. You were well aware that your girlfriend loved that, because on many occasions it had been your hand that had been pulling on the toy, while Nayeon dissolved into moans lying on your lap. But right now she was kneeling in the middle of the bathtub, spreading her butt and pleasuring herself. And you were hundreds of miles from that bathtub, masturbating to the delicious moans and the beautiful view of what your girlfriend was doing.

You had already reached a fairly pleasurable rhythm as you moved your hand up and down on your member. Speeding up when Nayeon moaned more or said something dirty, and slowing down when she stopped moving to give her butt a rest. More spanking made you increase the pace of your hand again, which in turn made your precum come out and bathe your entire glans with that natural lubricant. You let out a small moan, more like a sigh than anything else, but you still had to stop to deal with how much Nayeon's gift was turning you on, because you had to remember that you were still at your parents' house. It was already late at night, but you didn't want anyone to hear you masturbating to a home movie of your girlfriend anyway.

You bit your lower lip to suppress more sounds as you moved your hand again with considerable speed, as Nayeon was moaning pleasantly. She suddenly pulled harder on the toy and this time pulled it out completely, making a sucking noise as it left her rectum and leaving her anus open. The glowing light of the candles allowed you to see how Nayeon's anus slowly closed in a rather obscene way. At that moment you would have done anything to put your fingers there, or to rim that beautiful opening with your tongue. And as if her thoughts were connected, Nayeon put the fingers that had previously been in her vagina back into her mouth, and she sucked them, covering them with saliva. Then she put her middle and ring fingers into her own rectum, taking advantage of the saliva and all the foreplay.

“Babe… I miss your big dick stretching my little asshole so much.” Your girlfriend's words came to you fully charger of sensuality and sincerity as you watched how she played with her fingers, putting them in and out of her anus completely. "I miss you. Fill me again with your hot milk.” In an act that seemed incredible and fascinating to you, Nayeon said those words with a pout. Only she could do something so innocent in the middle of an act as obscene as recording herself masturbating through her ass, and still look adorable. One more example of how incredible your girlfriend was.

By God, that duality drove you crazy. Your cock almost exploded at the sight of that tender gesture on her face, remembering the many times you had come all over Nayeon's face while she made that same pout. Because if there were other things your girlfriend loved besides being the center of attention and having a plug plugged into her ass—aside from you, obviously—that was you ending up in her face. Nayeon loved feeling how the thick ropes of your semen hit her face and ran down her perfect features. All to end up cleaning herself with her tongue, and sometimes sharing a kiss with you. After all, if she had received your cum on her face so lovingly, the least you could do was kiss her.

Your cock throbbed again as you watched Nayeon insert a third finger into her anus and leave it inside her for a few seconds. "I miss you so much. My ass feels so lonely without you inside.” She removed her fingers from her and shook her butt from side to side, showing off her rectum that once again remained open for a few seconds, as if inviting you to fuck her. Of course you couldn't because it was a video, but you would have liked nothing more at that moment than to be in that bathtub with your girlfriend having a good time.

Now Nayeon took from behind some shampoo bottles an object unknown to you, which she had clearly prepared previously, along with a little bottle of what was clearly lubricant. The object in question was similar to a plug, except for the fact that it had a fairly wide hole in the center. Apparently it was made of glass, or some similar material, as it was completely transparent. After all, it was like a glass tube at least two inches in diameter and four in length, with fins on one end to prevent it from being inserted completely or to be able to grab it.

Your girlfriend put the toy in her mouth and, with her elbows resting on the edge of the tub, she looked back at you with that cute but naughty face. The face she used when she was planning some mischief. All this while she was shaking her butt again. At this point it was clear where that toy was going to end up.

“Now the good stuff begins.” Nayeon took the toy and coated it well with lube, before placing it on her butt where it entered with almost no effort on your girlfriend's part. Her entrance was already quite dilated by the plug and fingers. A not at all suppressed moan told you how pleasurable this was for Nayeon, it was a shame that she couldn't know how much you were enjoying it too.

Now the light of the candles allowed you to see the glazed shine of the object plugged into Nayeon's back entrance, and in an almost perverse way it also allowed you to see the inside of your girlfriend. Somehow despite not being so close to the camera, and only illuminated by the glowing flames of the candles, the transparency and action of the toy made it possible for you to see the inside of your girlfriend's rectum. The obscene and exciting game that your girlfriend was playing left you speechless, this was perhaps the dirtiest thing you had ever seen her do. Well, except maybe for that time in the elevator at that mall.

“Isn't it a beautiful sight?” Nayeon shook her butt again, but this time it was a thousand times more obscene and provocative because of the new toy. That exciting scene was taking you to a new level of pleasure, so much so that you had to slow down the pace at which you masturbated because you didn't want to finish before watching the video completely. Now you move your hand slowly, but applying more pressure with your fingers on your cock, giving deep pumps to the very base of your member.

“But I bet you want to see something even better. Want?" Again that tender tone that highlighted the duality of the moment and drove you so crazy. A wide smile that showed off your girlfriend's bunny teeth, and even her gums, followed that innocent-seeming question. Nayeon then took one of the shampoo bottles, and presented it to the camera, standing it on the palm of her hand, as if this were all a commercial. A very obscene and twisted one. Only at this point did you realize that what your girlfriend was holding was not a bottle of shampoo at all.

The object in question was neither more nor less than a bottle of lubricant, but not just any one. No, it was a one liter bottle of a type of lubricant that you had wanted to try for a while, but every time you tried to buy it was sold out. What made it special was that it imitated semen, at least in its texture and viscosity. So you could say that Nayeon was holding a one-liter bottle of fake semen in her hands.

“I bought it online last month along with the toy. I asked Momo if she could use her address so you wouldn't suspect anything.” Without losing that adorable smile, and with an expression of pride on her face, she let out a small giggle. “We should try it together next time.” Was that shame what you were seeing on Nayeon's face? It was almost impossible to believe that your girlfriend blushed at that proposal, when she was literally recording a porn video in which you could see the inside of her guts. She bit the tip of her index finger before blowing a quick kiss to the camera and turning so you wouldn't see the red on her cheeks, but it was too late for that. It almost made you feel bad that you were masturbating right now, but the duality of the video made you keep pumping.

Regaining her composure, Nayeon uncorked the bottle and, holding her ass up as much as she could, poured a generous amount onto her ass. The viscous whitish liquid landed at the height of her tailbone and began to slowly drip downwards. Soon you almost had a heart attack, because you were watching the fake semen being spilled by gravity into your girlfriend's ass. You had a prime view of Nayeon's gaping anus being filled with lube.

A gasp that wasn't for excitation caught your attention. “It's cold, but feels so good.” So what had caused your girlfriend to gasp was the difference in temperature between the fluid and her insides. You found it funny, but you didn't have time to laugh because now Nayeon was pushing the rest of the lubricant in with her fingers, so that it too would enter her. Immediately afterwards she again poured a generous amount onto her butt. “I wish it could be your milk that fills me. Oppaaaa, I want to feel how you overflow my insides with your semen.”

God, it kept driving you crazy how she kept saying those obscenities in such an innocent voice. The funny thing was that Nayeon wasn't doing it just to provoke, it was something she really couldn't control. She had even been scolded at work for treating a client with that same voice. Of course, there was no tone of voice that could make it seem tender as Nayeon put more lubricant through the toy, to the point that it seemed like she couldn't get more inside her.

The fake semen, in a fact you thought impossible, had filled the toy to the brim. So if Nayeon moved her butt roughly, some drops would fall directly onto the bath water. Apparently putting as much lubricant as possible inside her was the ultimate goal of having used that toy, because now your girlfriend was removing it, leaving only the liquid in its place. You again saw how Nayeo’s anus closed, this time even slower than the last, leaving the fake semen trapped inside her.

Once again, showing off her obscenity, Nayeon put the toy in her mouth and sucked it as if it were a lollipop. She even managed to stick her tongue inside the toy’s hole and pick up some of the lube. “God, I'm delicious. Now I understand why you love to eat my ass.” Your ever-so-modest girlfriend put the now completely clean toy to the side and leaned over the edge of the tub again. Her position lifted and she naturally spread her butt cheeks a little, offering you once again that perfect view of her puckered rear entrance. By flexing the muscles around it a little, Nayeon managed to make a small amount of lubricant come out of her, which slid down the edge of her buttock and thigh.

The next thing your girlfriend did was move her butt up and down, in the best twerk she could do in that position, moaning with the movement as the liquid stirred inside her and excited her even more. “Nngghhh!! Hooneeey, I'm so full. Just thinking that it could be your cum moving inside my guts makes my pussy drip.” She used the hand that hadn't touched the lube to separate the folds from her delicate vulva, as if she were offering herself to you, and then with those same fingers she drew circles over her soaked pussy. “It feels good… But I miss having you inside me. I want to put your cock in my mouth so bad.”

Then Nayeon opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out as far as she could, putting on the same expression she did when she gave you a head. With her free hand she imitates the movement she normally makes when masturbating you, moving her hand back and forth in front of her mouth. Making the whole show like when she gave you one of those delicious blowjobs that only she knew how to give, and you liked to receive. It's not like you had much experience in that regard, you had only had relationships (Don't even dare call that sex, because that was going too far) with a couple of people before Nayeon but your girlfriend had adapted so well to what you liked that it was impossible for anyone to know you better than her. Once again, you thought, irrefutable proof that your girlfriend was in a league completely above yours. You were grateful that she decided to be with you in the only way you could at that moment, jerking your cock frantically at the sight of Nayeon giving an impeccable blowjob to the open air. How lucky the air was too.

Fresh moans from Nayeon were what brought you out of your reverie and brought you back to reality, where your girlfriend had decided that she had had enough of teasing herself and had inserted two fingers inside her pussy. She had her knees as far apart as the narrow space inside the tub would allow, while her fingers moved in and out at a pace almost as frenetic as your own hand moved. It was as if despite the physical and temporal distance you were still connected, like in one of those ancient legends. Except this time the red thread seemed to connect your cock to her clit, something almost poetic.

Moans and the faint sound of small waves crashing against the walls of the tub were all you could hear now. Your girlfriend alternated between fucking herself with her fingers, and taking them out to rub her needy pussy before putting them back in again. Soon a third finger joined the party, doing the job that right now you were too far away to do. While the hand between her legs fucked her own pussy, Nayeon moved her other hand to her butt. Where a mischievous finger began to trace circles on the wrinkled entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat because you knew what was coming next, Nayeon was going to fuck herself in both holes at the same time. You were aware of how much she liked that too, which is why you had often proposed to have a threesome, but she always rejected it. It was incredible how your girlfriend always refused your offer, not because she didn't like the idea of the threesome itself, but because she didn't accept that someone else could enjoy the enormous pleasure of fucking her. Although it was obvious that you weren't her first partner (she should have learned all those things somewhere) Nayeon's love and attachment to you surpassed any obscenity she could think of. So your only companions when making love to your girlfriend were the many (Many) toys you had, and your own fingers. In some ways, especially when it came to sex, that love was kind of sick, but it worked pretty well for the two of you. Other than that you were a rather loving and somewhat clingy couple, sometimes even sharing tight hugs in public. But not as tight as the finger Nayeon had just shoved up her ass.

Well, to be honest that finger couldn't be that tight considering all the foreplay, and since just a few moments ago it had been inside that same hole accompanied by two other fingers. The fact is that now Nayeon was the fullest she had been that night, with three fingers in her pussy, along with her ass overflowing with fake cum and a naughty finger inside. Clearly that wasn't going to be enough to make her cum if she had gone to all that trouble to prepare her ass like that, so you weren't surprised to see how a second finger passed smoothly through Nayeon's anus.

A new sound joined the melody as Nayeon abruptly withdrew her fingers from her pussy, making a sucking noise like a loud POP! that echoed throughout the room. But that wasn't the only new sound, no, because now those fingers had entered your girlfriend's mouth. So the moans were now muffled and interspersed with sucking noises as Nayeon hungrily sucked on her own fingers. She would take them out and put them back in up to her knuckles, and then take them out again. She would occasionally separate them and swirl her tongue around them to clean them as well.

“The taste is almost as delicious as your semen.” A small giggle made your girlfriend look shy once again in the middle of that obscene scene, but she quickly regained her composure and put her fingers back into her pussy because she had already cleaned all the sweet nectar that covered them, and it was time to collect more. The other hand now also had three fingers inside her, fucking her anus in sync with the one she has in her vagina. When one of her inserted her fingers the other withdrew, always maintaining the rhythm and one of her two holes completely stretched out. The process also caused more and more lubricant to drip from her anus, so by this point her luscious thighs were all stained with fake semen. You didn't understand how liquid didn't stop coming out of her, Nayeon had really filled herself to the brim.

After a few minutes of pleasuring herself, the rhythm of Nayeon's fingers became more erratic. So now she sometimes put her fingers completely in her pussy and completely took out the ones she had in her ass, separating them as they came out to maximize the pleasure . Since she no longer had her mouth occupied, she was able to moan with lust once again.

“Babe, I'm sooooo close.” She drawled as she shoved her fingers into her ass, and used her other hand to draw circles on her clit. “Am I allowed to cum? I’ve been a good girl.” She looked directly at the camera, biting her lower lip in a sexy way, but using her eyes to once again put on that tender expression. Creating that duality in her face that she knew drove you crazy. "I think I deserve it." She said again with that tone that was trying to sound childish and mischievous at the same time.

Since you clearly couldn't respond to that, what Nayeon did instead of waiting for your approval was to massage her clit harder and spread the fingers in her ass as far as possible. It was so evident that she was close to her climax because now all her weight was resting on her chest leaning on the bathtub, and on her knees because her excitement had made her lift her feet and make them emerge from the under water. Where they had been hiding all this time.

Of course you loved Nayeon's feet too. You loved kissing them, licking them, painting her nails, and also fucking her feet and cumming all over her perfect toes. So the sight of her fingers curled in arousal, framing how she massaged her clit and stretched her dripping anus was what finally brought you to the point of no return. With a moan that you could not suppress, you discharged all your semen in powerful jets that gushed from your tip, and even flew over your laptop, landing on your chest. Your hand, which you had tried to prevent that from happening, was filled with your thick cum. Which trickled back over your cock, making you wonder if this was what it would feel like to be inside Nayeon's butt right now.

With your breathing still heavy, you focused again on the video, where your girlfriend was still masturbating, but so erratically and spasmodically that it was evident that she wasn't going to last much longer. You would have been able to see her sensitive pussy dripping with that delicious nectar, if it hadn't been for all that lubricant that was dripping from her ass and soaking your girlfriend's folds. Now the outside of her vagina was completely covered by the slippery liquid, making it look white.

What was also covered, but by a different substance, was your girlfriend's back. The light from the candles reflected on a hundred beads of sweat that had begun to appear on her, making it look as if her skin were covered in a bunch of pearls. That pearly shine made her look so damn beautiful, that this time it was your heart what you felt pumping instead of your cock.

With a single moan, the loudest you had heard from her so far, and in the midst of new and reinforced spasms, you witnessed Nayeon reach her climax. Her orgasm was much longer lasting than yours, making her legs and lower torso tremble. Her fingers on her butt slipped completely out, splashing lubricant out of the tub. Now her hand on her vulva had remained still, covering it completely, as if trying to contain the throbbing in her lips, while her toes were curled so much that they threatened to dig into her soles. It was clearly the strongest and most pleasurable orgasm you had ever seen your girlfriend have.

After a long minute where your girlfriend did not stop involuntarily moving some of her muscles, as a result of her pleasurable orgasm, you could see how she slowly moved the hand she had holding her vagina again. Now Nayeon was patting her lips, as if trying to calm herself, while she slowly lowered her feet back to the bottom of the bathtub.

Panting like she had just finished running a marathon, and with small spasms still running through her lower half, you watched her place her arms crossed over the edge of the bathtub and rest her head on them. The same way she did when she was napping, except this time what she wanted to do was expose her butt to the camera. You could see how her anus was still closing when she did that. She said nothing because probably still was out of breath to speak, so you had no idea what she had in mind right now.

To your surprise, for the umpteenth time that pleasurable night, what Nayeon did was push with the muscles of her rectum to make what was left of the lubricant come out of her. Slowly a thread of viscous liquid began to flow out, which became thicker as the seconds passed. Now the fake semen was not only soaking her ass and vagina, but it had also completely covered your girlfriend's meaty thighs. The scene itself was so obscene, but what topped it off was when there was almost no lube left inside Nayeon. That's when her butt started making farting noises because of the lube and how open her anus was still.

That sound made your cock so hard again in an instant, that you were sure you could use it to hit diamonds and break them. Your hand was still full of your own cum, so you used it as a sort of natural lubricant to pump your aching cock again. You weren't masturbating frantically like you did before, instead you were just stroking your shaf at a slow pace, greatly enjoying each of the movements of your hand.

Apparently the sonata of your girlfriend's butt had stopped, because now you only heard her breathing, still somewhat agitated. It had really been a very good orgasm for her, and certainly for you too. Nayeon then turned to face the camera, but she still remained kneeling in the middle of the bathtub. It made you a little sad not to be able to continue seeing her butt, which although it wasn't big had a wonderful shape. Plus her small buttocks were the perfect size to fit in your hands. As compensation you got a perfect view of her sweat-soaked chest, where her breasts rose and fell in a rhythmic way as a result of her breathing. In addition to being able to see, now from the front, her soaked pussy, that was still dripping lubricant as if it were your semen after having finished inside your girlfriend.

With a wide smile on her face, Nayeon washed her hands in the same water from the bathtub, water that had now turned white due to all the lubricant spilled in it. When she decided that her hands were clean she looked at the camera, and you could see her eyes shining. “Did you enjoy it?” She asked with that tender and loving voice that characterized her so much, while she played with one of her pigtails. A small giggle accompanied the question. “I bet you enjoyed it as much as I did. ”You didn't know if you had enjoyed it as much as she did, since her orgasm was much more violent than yours, but you were sure that your level of pleasure had been very high.

“Next time I want to have you playing with my butt… It's going to be so much fun.” The really funny thing here was how Nayeon had regained that shyness that some people hated because they thought she was fake, but you knew she was sincere. Your girlfriend used both hands to play with her ponytail as she looked away from you, as if she was embarrassed to admit that she wanted you to fuck her ass. As if she herself had not been minutes ago doing something much dirtier and obscene. Your girlfriend was quite a case.

"I love you baby. I hope to see you soon, I really miss you.” She puffed out her cheeks for a second in a brief pout. “Let me know if you liked my gift.” Then, she blew you a kiss and stretching out one of her hands, you saw how she turned off the camera, ending the video.

“What a great Christmas present”, you thought to yourself. Now you feel like you should reward Nayeon for this, and also buy Momo a nice gift for helping her hiding the things. “Definitely the best gift this Christmas”, you decided as you postponed getting out of bed because you definitely needed a shower. After all, your hand, cock, and chest were still covered in your own cum.

[keisgirl]

hidden by the crown; oikawa tooru

again might delete!

pairing; campus volleyball star!oikawa x gf!reader

kjdhfksjhfdkjs might turn this into a three part fic where you can choose endings to read. one would be fluffy and one would be angst-

wc; 0.8k

multi masterlist

you sat at a small, worn-out table in the corner of the campus café, staring blankly at the coffee cup in your hands. the warmth seeped through your fingers, but it did little to comfort you. your phone vibrated beside you, lighting up with a familiar name—oikawa tooru. you sighed, pushing it aside as you ignored yet another message from him.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him. no, you always wanted to talk to him. but today was different. today, you couldn’t stomach hearing from him, especially when the same thing happened—again. another girl had approached you in the hallway, all smiles and nervousness, asking you if you could help her confess to oikawa. you were used to it by now—being seen as his best friend, his confidante. the girl even mentioned how lucky you were to be so close to him, to be his friend.

you were tired. tired of being the one who knew everything about him, the one who he kissed behind closed doors, but never in public. best friend—that’s all anyone saw when they looked at you. you were the secret, the one he kept tucked away from the spotlight that constantly followed him around. it wasn’t that he didn’t care. he did. you knew it in the way he’d brush his fingers against yours under the table when no one was looking, or how he’d send you texts that no one else would ever get to read.

but still, it hurt.

it hurt every time someone told you how perfect he was, how they wished they had a chance with him. and you—what were you supposed to say? you couldn’t even claim him, couldn’t say that he was yours without blowing everything up. his fans, his image—he always said it wasn’t the right time, that it would cause more trouble than it was worth.

the door to the café opened, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was him. his presence was like gravity, pulling everyone’s attention the moment he walked into a room. you forced yourself to take a sip of your coffee, your throat tightening as you heard the footsteps approach.

“hey,” his familiar voice greeted you softly, sliding into the chair across from you. his hand reached out, gently nudging yours, but you pulled away, setting the cup down on the table with a soft clink.

“what’s wrong?” oikawa’s brows furrowed, his usual cheerful expression dimming as he looked at you. “you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

you exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “do you ever get tired of it?”

he blinked, caught off guard. “tired of what?”

“tired of this.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “of me… being a secret.”

his face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. “babe, we’ve talked about this…”

“yeah, we have,” you cut him off, voice quieter now, but no less strained. “and i thought i could handle it. but today—god, tooru, another girl asked me to help her confess to you. she was so sweet, and i had to stand there and pretend like it didn’t feel like a punch to the gut.”

he was silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to the table. “i didn’t know it was this bad.”

“well, it is,” you murmured, your heart aching. “i don’t even know why i’m telling you this. nothing’s going to change. you’ll just keep being the volleyball king, and i’ll keep being the girl that no one knows about.”

“stop that,” his voice cracked as he reached for your hand again, this time more firmly, and you let him take it. “don’t say it like that.”

“like what?” you whispered, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “like the truth?”

oikawa’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i hate that you feel this way. i don’t want you to feel like you’re less important than anything else in my life. but it’s not that simple—”

“it never is, is it?” you smiled bitterly, pulling your hand away from his once again. “there’s always some excuse, something to justify why you can’t just… admit it.”

he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “do you think i like this? do you think it’s easy for me, seeing all these people fawn over me when the only one i care about is sitting right in front of me?”

you stayed quiet, his words not offering the solace you wished they would.

“i know i’ve been selfish,” oikawa said, voice softer now. “but i love you. i’m just… scared.”

you raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. scared? he was never scared of anything—or at least, that’s what everyone thought. confident, cocky oikawa tooru, afraid? of what?

“scared of what, exactly?” you asked, your tone less biting now, genuine curiosity slipping in.

he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands for a moment. when he looked up again, his eyes were tired, his usual spark dimmed. “scared that if i let people know about us, things will change. you know how people can be. i’m afraid they’ll tear us apart, make it impossible for us to just… be.”

“tooru…” you whispered, his vulnerability catching you off guard.

he reached for your hand again, more desperately this time. “i know i’ve been asking you to wait, and it’s not fair. but please, don’t give up on me. don’t give up on us.”

you bit your lip, trying to stop the tears from falling. this was the side of him no one else saw—the boy underneath all the bravado and charm. the boy who was just as scared as you were, but for different reasons.

“i’m not giving up on you,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “i just… i need you to meet me halfway. i can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t hurt.”

he nodded, squeezing your hand tightly. “i’ll do better. i promise. just… don’t walk away from me.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over you. it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was something. it was a start.

“okay,” you said softly, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his. “but you can’t keep me in the dark forever, tooru.”

“i know,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. “and i won’t.”

it was a quiet promise, one that would take time to see through. but for now, you’d hold on to it, because despite everything, you loved him. and as long as he was willing to try, so were you.

should i make it two part..

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xx

⟶ Chapter summary | Once the gate of secrets about your mother has been opened, it seems that magic is slowly guiding you to follow the traces your mother’s left behind in this realm. As if her shadows still remain, and you are now tasked to find every piece of her still left behind. 

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 15,004 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include magic terms, classism, mention of war, violence, weapons, sword fighting.  ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

Author's note | I never expected that the break I took between this chapter and the last would go so long. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I hope the longer chapter makes up for the lack of update

chapter xx. traces

The scent of the forest hangs heavily in the air—the remnants of rain, the rich fragrance of earth, and the slightly humid, yet strongly pine-scented breeze. 

As you walk between the trees, a thick white mist rises from the ground around you, making it somewhat hard to look at what you are stepping on or where you are going. This place is dark, even if there are still some streaks of light visibly falling from the sky. But those lights don’t seem strong enough to pierce through the thick foliage, nor can they penetrate through the dense fog moving together with you. Not enough to illuminate your surroundings so you can see better. Only enough to show you the unmoving shadows that are present around you and helping to stop you from crashing into trees or stumbling against a boulder hiding beneath the undergrowth. 

Still, the darkness cannot stop you from searching through the woods to find out where you are. 

You hadn’t exactly expected to be in the depths of a forest like this when you first stepped through the magic door. Perhaps you should have expected that your secret exploit would be a peculiar one tonight, given the circumstances leading you here. 

The silver door that you had chosen for this evening’s adventure was completely different from the ones you went through before, after all. 

Hidden at the end of the hallway where the treasure rooms are located, the door looked more like a sculpted wall ornament, sunk deeply into the stone walls with nothing more but a small alcove marking its existence and floral embellishments carved on its surface. You may have walked past it many times before, yet never once had you ever paid much attention to it, thinking that it was merely a decorated wall to grace the treasure rooms’ hall. 

It wasn’t until early this evening that things ended differently—when you walked past the hall after leaving the library much later than usual. You were carrying with you the book which had caught your interest while spending your free time reading in the library—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts—barely even thinking of anything other than to quickly bring it back to your bedchamber so you could continue reading through the pages. You had every intention to later compare everything you learned from that book with the texts written in the ancient spell book you acquired during your trip to the Mage City of Aeris. What better way to do so than to be in your private quarters, lest to have your tutors questioning your new book had they saw it in the library. 

You had your arms wrapped around the book when you turned the corner where the magic door was hidden, clutching it against your chest while picturing the images you saw from it. You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost believed you were imagining things when the plain embellishments on the wall suddenly began shimmering. 

As if the carvings on the wall were reacting to your presence. 

Perhaps something else had caused it? Something that had been in your possession for the first time as you travelled down that hall this time, maybe? 

You cannot help but wonder as you reach down, gently tapping the sling bag hanging to your side where the book is now being kept secure. Thinking about it now, you remember that the glimmer of light coming from the carvings had not been all that had drawn you toward the hidden door. 

While you were still struggling to make sense of what was happening, your necklace was also beginning to show a reaction. It felt subtle at first, yet the warmth pressing on your skin from the back of your ruby amulet was hard to ignore. It reminded you of how your necklace showed some peculiar reactions during your last trip, when it seemed to respond to the magic found in Aeris. 

As you came to a halt, the warmth coming from the gemstone started growing stronger. Your eyes flew to the alcove as the magic essence of the portal began to emerge, revealing to you that the sculpted embellishments had been something more than just a wall ornament. 

The whisperings of the magic came to you next, enchanting you to come closer, compelling you to reach into your pocket and pull out the silver key. At first, you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do. Looking at the carved wall in front of you, there was no possible guide telling you how you were going to use your magic key on a piece of carved ornament. 

But then the carvings on the wall began to change form. The plain grey shades painted on the carvings slowly turned into silver plates right before your eyes. The linings beneath the alcove shifted into what appeared to be a doorframe, and then a keyhole emerged between the carvings of a pair of wings on the side which you have never noticed before. 

A baffled laughter climbed up your throat as you watched in disbelief. “A door? This was a door this whole time?” you wondered loudly as the silver door took its final form right at the center of the dark wall. 

You could barely process what was happening even as the scene was unfolding right before your eyes. The door seemed to have enchanted you with its charm, drawing you closer towards it as the silver carvings magically glimmered brightly like the moonlight. 

Reaching deep into your pocket, you keep your eyes on the door as you pull out the magic key. Your heartbeat skipped a beat as you carefully inserted the key and turned until a resounding click echoed through the empty hall. There was no handle emerging from the door, yet it opened on its own, bringing in a strong cold breeze that felt nothing like anything you ever had encountered before as it slowly widened right in front of you. 

Another peculiarity happened as the magic portal was activated. As you pushed the door wider, the usual sight of the dark blue void wasn’t what appeared in the opened doorway. Instead, you saw the sight of a dark forest, as if it had been hidden right on the other side of the wall instead of across the realm—wherever your new destination might be. 

To be able to see the new world that you were about to step into was a new experience. You wondered if you should be wary about stepping in. But this was unlike your previous excursions, where you had to go blindly into the portal without having any clue where you were going to end up next. What laid before you seemed like a challenge, and at the same time, a promise. 

A promise of a new and exciting adventure that you would regret never getting into. A new world to learn. 

So you gathered yourself together, not even bothering to think about how you were going to miss supper by stepping out of the castle so late. After quickly grabbing your coat and a sling bag to carry your magic books along with you, you stepped through the door and began your journey across the realm.

So far, everything about this new adventure of yours has been out of the ordinary, just as much as how it began. 

As if the events leading you to open the portal hadn’t been peculiar enough, the magic portal had sent you emerging at the center of a dark forest. The portal, which had appeared as a part of an alcove which was built into a wall, opened up on what seemed to be the mouth of a small cave once you got to the other side of it. 

“Magic is a very peculiar thing,” was the only thing you could say as you looked back at the portal which had manifested between the alcove forming the cavern’s entrance. Unlike the other portals, you were able to see the dark hallway that you had just stepped out of. Only you were made to feel as if you were looking at it through a tinted-blue glass as the void manifested around the opening like a protective shield. 

It still baffles you even now to think about it, as you are trudging through the thick woods, continuing your journey without even knowing if you are going in the right direction. 

Only fates know how long it has been since you came to this place. With nothing but the night sky above and trees in a myriad of shapes and sizes surrounding you, it is hard to tell how much time has passed. 

The white mist keeps growing thicker as you keep going, covering the ground beneath. You can barely see your own legs as every step you take going forward seems to be engulfed in the peculiar mist as you get deeper into the forest. This has been going on for a while, and you are beginning to wonder if you will ever find a way to get out of these thickets.

At least you have reached the part of the forest where the trees are no longer as dense as before. Yet, despite being no longer close-packed together, their sizes seem to grow significantly larger that they still fill the forest with their presence. Their thick boughs spread wider here to make up for the thinning foliage above, leaving nothing more but fractured streaks of moonlight streaming down from the night sky. Still, it barely helps you see your way through, as the white mist continues to gather thickly around your legs and is slowly climbing higher, as high as your elbows. 

The forest is also quiet. 

The sound of gravel, fallen branches, and dry leaves crunching beneath your boots becomes your only company. Thick bushes and tall wildflowers growing as far up to your waist are spread between the thick trees. One too many times, the tips of your boots would get tangled in them, if not coming in contact with sharp rocks that are hidden under the mist. 

While none of these obstacles would be enough to tip you over, they are still enough to make you grow more cautious. To be wary of where you are stepping your foot next.

The shadows around you are still, adding the eeriness which makes you feel as if you are being swallowed by the darkness around you. The temperature is slightly colder than the darkest hallways of Stargrave. Colder than the damp alleyways of the slum area back in Smotia. 

But the air also feels like a comforting embrace here that you barely feel the urge to tighten your cloak to protect yourself. How odd, indeed, you wonder to yourself as you continue to walk deeper into the forest while feeling like you are walking in a dream.

A dream that is more peculiar than the one that you have been getting lately. 

Even the trees growing around you appear like parts of an eerie dream as you look closer. The trunks are thick and massive, twisted and bent in sinister shapes and appear as if they are decaying as they grow in various shades of grey. The same thing appears on the sweeping branches that seem to grow out of those giant trunks like twisted hands reaching into the darkness. 

Yet those limbs don’t appear bare. Not all of them. Some of the thicker ones are full of leaves, growing in dark teal that appear almost black, yet are glowing like jewels under the night sky. The ones that are bare without leaves almost look like giant fingers, pointing out through the darkness as if they are trying to reach out to you as you walk underneath them. 

Below, the undergrowth begins to grow denser. With more bushes and rough hedges thickly covering the ground, high grass reaching almost to your knees and small tree buds popping from between the giant ones. The flower beds grow more scarce around here that the forest now appears to your eyes in monochrome colours of grey and deep teal. 

A rustling sound coming from somewhere nearby catches your attention—sounding almost like a clear snap against the silence that has befriended you—and you come to a sudden halt. The sudden shift of movements brings your sling bag swinging forward, knocking against the back of your calves. The weight of the books inside the bag adds an extra punch as it swings along your body, while the weight of your cloak tries to drag you sideways with it when it falls around you. 

“Ouch,” you hiss at the sudden impact while adjusting your sling bag and straightening up before gravity has the chance to bring you down. 

The rustling sound continues, causing you to grow more alert this time. Spinning, you search for the sound. Scanning through the trees around you isn’t helping much, however. The foliage is still too dense, the space around you is still too dark, and it is making it hard for you to determine where the sound is coming from. So you wait, all while doing your best to grasp the change in the air and force yourself to listen to any other noises that may follow.

A gust of wind bursting through the foliage makes you realise that the sounds may not be coming from anywhere around you. Nowhere close, for sure, as you see no movement in the dark even when the wind breezes across once more. 

It’s coming from above. 

The thought soon registers in your mind just as a blip of darkness steals away the barely-there moonlight penetrating through the thick foliage from above. You look up, drawn by your curiosity when another rustle of leaves, followed by a burst of cold breeze, lures your attention to the night sky. 

And that is when you see it as it happens right before your eyes. 

Beyond the top of the trees reaching so far up high to the night sky, something massive passes above you. Flapping its giant wings with leisure, it glides across the starry sky, covering the ground below with its shadow before it disappears from sight as it continues its journey. 

It isn’t until another passes by with the same motion, and then another, drifting in the air so gracefully that it almost feels like you are still dreaming when you begin to understand what you are seeing. 

Dragons.

A wave of cold shivers runs through your body. Before you realise what you are doing, you are already moving. Your legs are unsteady, yet they still carry you forward, even if your steps may be a little too haste. Navigating through the thick woods will surely be a hassle, particularly in this unfamiliar darkness and while you are trying to catch up with the movements of the dragons flying above. 

But you refuse to give up. 

You refuse to let go of any chance to get a better look at these magnificent beasts that you had only seen pictures of in the books you have read—more significantly, in the book that you are carrying now inside your bag—and you wish to see more of the place where these giant beasts truly exist. 

With one hand clutching tightly on the sling of your bag and the other wrapped firmly around the handle of the golden dagger that you keep hanging on your hip, you march forward, following the cold trail of wind left behind by the flying dragons.

You keep your gaze forward, with only short glances to the sky above to look as a few more dragons come flying by. Some are much smaller than the ones you saw before, a few more that look to be average in size, and then the last and largest one glides across the sky, shaking the trees around you with each flap of its giant wings. 

So you begin to run. 

Racing through the twisted and bent trees, you try to keep up with those dragons before you lose sight of them The snapping sounds of your rapid footsteps crossing through the undergrowth coming in your way follow you, yet they are barely noticeable when the air is filled with the sounds of their flights—the flaps of their wings, the gentle swish of their tails, and their staggering roars and high-pitched calls as they get further away from the woods. 

You ignore the slight pain you feel as bare, low-hanging branches reach out to you like bony fingers—snagging your cloak and hair, snapping and nicking at your skin. Yet not once do you falter, not even allowing yourself to slow down when running out of breath. And you continue to run until you finally reach the end of the woods.  

The trees open up to a spread of high grass which ends with a wall of low boulders merely several feet away, right where the levelled land ends before it drops into what appears to be a ravine.

You look up, following the movements of the last dragons as they glide above the wide length of the chasm, heading towards the tall mountain on the other end. Right atop that mountain, you see the sight of an old castle appearing in the darkness, its walls rising in dark stones that glimmer under the stars and the moonlight shining from above. Built to look like it serves as the crown of the mountain, the castle seems to blend into the rocky cliff below. 

Much like the Stargrave Castle. 

The only difference is that your new home doesn’t have giant dragons of all sizes, shapes, and colours flying around it in a circular motion as if they are worshipping it. As if they are protecting their home. 

Gaping at the astonishing sight before you, your breath is caught. You can hear the sound of your heartbeat getting louder as you watch the last dragon you followed joining the others circling the castle on the rocky mountain. The sounds of their calls echo through the night. Like a birdsong. 

Speechless, you can only admire this sight in silence with goosebumps rising on your skin. You simply cannot believe it.  

You know exactly where you are. 

E'l Alora.

The dragons’ lair.

The place that you had just learned and read about from the book that is now weighing down your sling bag—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts. The book which tells you about the monsters of the night that you are now seeing right before your eyes. 

This place is real, you muse, finding yourself moving forward before realising it as if you are drawn by the sight of dragons—real dragons—flying so elegantly in the dark sky. 

You stop by the boulders, and a cold shiver rushes through your body as you get a closer look at the ravine before you. The widespread of chasm that looks like a dark void, separating you from the mountain and its glimmering black castle standing on its crown. 

But as you lean forward to take a good look down below, you are caught by surprise at what you find hidden down there. Instead of seeing a massive fall of rocky walls ending into an abyss, you can see that there is life. Life other than the dragons. 

A civilization growing on the walls. 

Houses and buildings are built into the rocky mountain wall, levelling from the highest part of the wall to the lowest section down below, with long-winding streets and ramps connecting one to the other. A shadow of a bridge appears in the darkest part of the ravine, crossing between the town on the wall to the foot of the cliff far beneath the dragons’ castle. 

And just like how the rocky mountain across the ravine is now lively with those giant dragons floating in the sky, the town below you is wide awake. There are lights everywhere, illuminating the town as they are set alight from the buildings and homes, and there are streetlights standing on the edge of the road, allowing you to see everything from up high. 

You can see the people from the town moving in and out of those buildings, strolling up and down the streets, with carriages and carts led by massive horses driving on the streets like what you see in any regular towns. And they all seem to be going about their evening as if it is just any normal night. 

As if having giant dragons flying in the sky is a normal occurrence to have in their everyday lives. 

Drawn by your curiosity, you follow the path from the top of the hill which you are stranded in that leads you towards the bustling town below. With the hood of your cloak pulled up neatly back in place, your hands clutching the sling of your bag and your dagger sheathed nicely against your hip, you ready yourself to continue your adventure. 

To get a closer look at this odd town, to meet the residents you see finishing their nightly activities, and hopefully, learn more about how they are able to live peacefully alongside the magnificent beasts gathering close by, with nothing more but the deep chasm separating them from one another. 

The human town of E’l Alora was already a breathtaking sight to look at from the top of the cliff. But nothing beats being at the center of it where you can have a closer look at everything. 

Houses, apartments, shops, and other buildings built with dark-coloured stones reflecting the moonlight seem to be blending into the rocky walls. They appear as if they manifested from the cliff walls on the side of the ravine instead of being built against it. Some buildings are several stories high, with open staircases and balconies made up of muted grey-coloured stones, allowing the darker facade of the building to stand out more. Some houses are built low enough that they seem to sink into the rocky walls, with rocks carved in slates to form structures and roofs framing each house. 

The stone-covered road looks sturdy, smoothed nicely to follow each dent and curve of the ravine walls as it connects each house and building. As you walk down the road and finally get a good look at it from up close, you notice that some of the stones seem to sparkle and glitter, as if there are broken pieces of diamonds or gemstones implanted into the stones. 

Being in the town means you are not only getting the first look at the townspeople—most of whom are still doing their routines and working even as the night is growing late and the sky darker—but you are also getting a closer look at the flying dragons above. You can even feel the hard whoosh coming down between the draft of wind each time a dragon flaps its giant wing. 

It amazes you to see that while you are marvelling at this new experience with wonder, the townspeople you come across seem to be more nonchalant about the presence of these giant beasts. Even when the dragons are so close, flying right above their town, sometimes gliding lower than the others as if to have a closer look at the town and their neighbours.

Strange how they can simply carry on with their evening, with only a small few of them who would occasionally glance up with fond smiles on their faces as they watch the dragons gliding closer. 

To say that you are completely stunned to be able to witness this seems like an understatement. A glorious shudder runs through you when you realise how privileged you are to be experiencing something like this. 

Something that you would have never come across had you not been gifted the chance through your father’s magic.

Sighing deeply, you lean back in your seat, your eyes never wandering away from the open window beside you as you continue to look out and enjoy the scenery. You had continued walking until you reached the town square before you finally stumbled into this place; a three-story building divided into three different functions—a small tavern on the ground level, rented rooms on the second floor, and a private apartment on the top floor. 

You have found the tavern as the perfect place to find shelter, while earning you the front seat of what is currently unfolding in this town. This part of the town is built on a section of the wall which extends toward the center of the ravine, getting you a bit closer to the foot of the mountain where the castle is built. 

Staring out at the dark castle standing atop the mountain, with your book about dragons lying on your lap, your mind wanders to the one person you cannot help but wish to accompany you right now. 

You wonder what it would have been like if only Yoongi had been here, sitting in this dimly lit room together with you, his sharp eyes watching every movement coming from the dragons. You wonder what kind of stories he would be sharing with you, or what type of jokes he would be throwing at you had he seen you looking flabbergasted the first time you arrived in this place. 

It is really hard not to think about Yoongi at times like this, although you cannot say that you understand the reason why. It’s not like you have known him for your entire life and so deeply that he would be the first to come to your mind while you are travelling across realms. 

Yet he haunts your mind in every second that you breathe. Always coming into your thoughts either when you are feeling lonely or when you find yourself lost in a strange place. 

The way Yoongi constantly preoccupies your mind makes you believe that you are seeing his shadows everywhere you look. Never missing the trails left behind to show you that he may have stepped foot in the places that you are visiting. 

It happened to you back in Aeris, when you saw the crest of The Brotherhood of Jorn stamped in various places you came across—on the bulletin boards, on the streetlight poles, and some on the walls of the back alleys. You have been seeing the same thing here ever since you first entered the human town of E’l Alora, when you caught sight of the same crest stamped and painted on the gates and announcement boards that the townspeople use to put up the local news, even on the walls of a few of the establishments that you walked pass by while heading to this place. 

Even here, right in this tavern, you can see the same crest marked on the wall across the room, where a long table is set as if it was prepared specifically to hold a group meeting. 

“We leave our crests in places where we often use as our rendezvous spots. Places for us to recoup, gather information, find work, or have a little downtime between our expeditions. The crest is a mark of our trail, showing our gratitude for the people who welcome us, and the people that we owe our strength to. It also lets them know that they can rely on the brotherhood whenever they need us.” 

Yoongi shared this when you talked about seeing his crest everywhere you went. You can almost picture it now in your head, the mercenaries wearing various armours and disguises gathering on that same table, Yoongi amongst them, boasting about their journeys while sharing drinks and hot meals as they gather at that long table.

As always, thinking of Yoongi makes you smile. Even better when you imagine listening to him speak. You love how deeply he often speaks about the things that he brings up in your conversations, even when he is discussing something as benign as the weather. Often with a smug smile on his face when he talks about all the things you have no knowledge of. 

You wonder what he would say if you had the chance to share the things that you have been learning for the past week—how much you have advanced in controlling your energy and mana and making use of it in exchange for your locked magic. You wonder how he would react if you share with him what you have recently learned from Lord Gordan—about the true nature of your skills that you may have inherited from your mother. 

Would he somehow recognise the skill, or maybe he would be able to reveal who you are based on this peculiar skill alone?

Knowing how knowledgeable he is about magic and everything else related to this realm, you wouldn’t be too surprised if he ever learned about your mother. There is a sense of unease when you think about it, however, to think of the possibility that he may know more about your mother and your heritage than you do. 

Thinking of Yoongi takes you back to the day before, when you came to the city of Aeris. Your findings of the Mage City and its spectacular perks seem to be pushed to the sidelines whenever the cloaked figure you saw that day comes to mind.

Looking back, you wonder if your desire to see Yoongi again has grown so strong that it is taking over your sanity. You were quite sure that the figure had spent a brief moment standing right outside of the magic shop. His presence a lurking shadow in the bright city, watching your movements while you were in the shop. 

Chasing him was an instinct that you couldn’t resist to follow. Drawn entirely by your curiosity, and perhaps the dire need to see if it had been the one you desired to see the most, only to be led into a futile chase through the city. 

Regret still follows you to this day, only because losing his trail in the bustling city square had left you with no answer. Nothing to stop you from wondering why that figure had felt so familiar to your eyes. 

At least your trip hadn’t ended with you coming home from the Mage City completely empty-handed. 

The shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe had been kind enough to wait for your return. She asked no questions when you came back to the shop, simply welcoming you back with a smile before helping you purchase the spell book which she had gone to fetch for you. The same spell book which had later taken away a few hours you had late in the night as you spent it reading the pages.

Cold breeze flows through the open window, pulling your wandering mind back to present. It pushes against the void that has been growing in your chest from Yoongi’s absence, causing your entire body to tremble.

As you reach out to grab your discarded cloak to find some semblance of warmth, a large cup of hot steaming drink manifests in front of your eyes. It lands with a soft thud when placed on the table before you. The scent of fresh herbs mixed with spice and rum fills your senses, warming your chest before you even have a taste. 

“Here you go. This should help warm you up. It’s a specialty of ours in this town,” says the tavern keeper as he stands to the side of your table. 

Lord Merryl—as he introduced himself to you earlier when he first approached you to offer you shelter—is a tall and built man who is only slightly taller than Lord Gordan, with greying hair that grows as long as his shoulders and a thin dark beard dusted in grey covering his sharp jaw. 

Thinking about how you met previously warms your cheeks. You must have seemed like a lost puppy when you walked past the tavern earlier, your eyes wandering around as you tried to take everything in while figuring out where to go. When Lord Merryl first came to you and invited you into his establishment, he did so in the most gentle way that one would do to offer a safe shelter for a stray getting lost in a strange town.

Looking back at it now, you realise that he wasn’t the only one who had given you a friendly welcome. 

When you first walked into the town, you had expected that the magic inside your necklace would take effect, shielding you from others. Yet, aside from the soft hum still following you through the vibrating ruby amulet, nothing else happened. Bereft of the usual warmth of its protective spell, it simply clung onto you with its lightweight pressing on your skin.

It didn’t seem to matter, however, when instead of gaining accusing stares and cold shoulders from the townspeople that you met, you only received warm smiles and kind greetings. There were even some who came up to you, giving you directions and showing you where to go, until you finally reached the town square where Lord Merryl found you.

It makes you smile just thinking about it. To realise how good it feels not to be invisible. 

Murmuring your gratitude, you pick up the cup and take a dainty sip. A voluntary hum slips out of you as the warmth spreads through your body, instantly calming your senses and washing away your weariness. “This is lovely.” 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl’s lips rise to a smile of pride. “I meant it when I said I would have the perfect ale to soothe your mind.” 

You cannot help but laugh as you recall him saying those words when he first came to you earlier. “Yes,” you nod, “I suppose you’ve only proven your words to be true.” 

Releasing a deep sigh, you embrace the warmth now coursing through your body. Turning back to look out the window, you can feel your body relaxing as you continue taking in the view and doing some more people—and dragon—watching. 

The town indeed feels lively with the townspeople walking up and down the street, some lingering in the town square to enjoy their downtime while others are still working in their shops and the open establishments that are visible from where you are sitting. The sounds of their muted chatters and faint laughter fill the night as they greet each other upon passing by. You can see small groups of people sharing friendly conversations on the side of the street, and there is a faint sound of musical strings echoing from somewhere down the road.

Street musicians, you wonder with a smile. A town really couldn’t go without one present.

At one glance, this place does seem like any other town you’ve been to. And it would’ve been that way if not for the fact that there are dozens or more dragons flying above their heads right now, their high trills and calls echoing through the ravine, causing your chest to tremble along with the noises they are making. 

“Quite a remarkable view to see, isn’t it? Sometimes one can forget how uncommon our lives are because we’ve gotten so used to this, until we remember that not all in this realm can experience living in a place like our home,” Lord Merryl muses as he notices how you keep following the dragons’ movements with your gaze. 

You simply cannot help it, after all. Unable to look away from the mythical beings that you have always believed to be a part of a myth, or Ancient creatures that should no longer exist in this more modern time. 

And they are quite a sight to look at. 

Most of the dragons have stopped circling around the dark castle a while ago, leaving only a couple of the larger ones flying up there as if keeping a close watch of their territory. You can see the shadows of the ones who are now perched on the towers and the rise of the wall around the castle from afar, while you see some of the smaller ones now flying close to the human town, floating in and out of the ravine, allowing you to have a clearer view whenever they glide right over the town square. 

You are beginning to understand the reason why Lord Merryl had given you the seat by the window when you first came in. The place in his establishment which allows you to have the perfect view of the town and its special perks. He must have noticed how mesmerised you were with the sight of the dragons, unable to resist glancing back up at them while you were walking down the street, making you look vulnerable, lost, and—quite understandably—disoriented.  

“I’ve learned quite a bit about E’l Alora and its dragons, yet the book that I’ve read so far had insinuated that this place was a sacred land which only existed in Ancient times. So please excuse my disbelief and ignorance which you may have seen for yourself when I first arrived here,” you share with him while pasting a smile, leaving out the fact that you have only been reading the book today. 

It wouldn’t matter if you had spent all afternoon studying all the facts and myths about this place from your book, getting lost in the tales and the history of dragons. You had only stopped when the untranslated texts at the end pages caught your eyes, leading you to carry the book out of the library to study them more despite having been forbidden to do so. 

What little information written in the textbook about this place hadn’t been enough to prepare you for what you have found so far. Which means that there are bound to be more secrets about this place waiting to be unveiled. 

“It was already a pleasant surprise to find that this place exists, much less to find out that even the dragons still live here, right where their home castle still stands. Still so marvellous and grand.” Your body shivers, feeling the excitement building up as you think about what other things you may find simply by being here. 

“But what’s more surprising for me to find is that there are mortals living here, in a town that looks like it had manifested from the mountain, and that there is a peaceful life shared here between the mortals and these magnificent dragons.” 

There is a pride smile on the tavern keeper’s face when you look at him again. “This is the life that we’ve all known for centuries,” Lord Merryl claims as he takes the seat at the table, right across from you. “The dragons protect us, and we protect the dragons.”

Eyes widening, you straighten up in your seat, intrigued to hear more. Seeing firsthand the way the townspeople and dragons together has already shown you how special and different E’l Alora is compared to many other places you have been to. But to hear about how directly connected they truly are as they share the same land to live in is quite an intriguing fact for you to learn. 

“Most of the people who live in this town are miners and artisans, but there are also knights and fighters—” He stops and looks over his shoulder as a small dragon floats by. You can see through the window the people who stop on the street to wave. At first glance, you think for a moment that they are waving at the midnight-coloured dragon who seems to be making a show as it circles back and makes another pass, until you see a shadow riding on its back, just as Lord Merryl gently adds, “—and riders.” 

You take a double look at the dragon as it shoots back up, flying higher up the mountain, carrying the rider—wearing all black from head to toe—along with it. “You—ride those dragons?” you ask with a soft gasp, which has the Lord chuckling softly. 

“Only the chosen ones do,” he says with a grin. “Every mortal living in this town, men and women, train their whole lives to ride and fight alongside the dragons to protect this land. When they officially come of age, those who are trained will be tested, and those who pass the test will be bonded with the dragon so they can become the dragons’ riders.” 

“Tested? By whom?” 

Lord Merryl’s eyes crease a little on each corner when he smiles. “The dragons themselves, of course. They choose their riders.” 

“H-how? How do the dragons choose their partners?” 

“The Dragon King and his court rule the land to this day, and they set up the rules which made bonding between a human and dragon possible to happen. The Dragon King rules from his home castle. Together with his court, he leads the ceremony where a rider is chosen by inviting the chosen ones to the King’s castle,” he explains with a slight nod towards the castle above. 

Tilting your head, you try to picture a whole court testing out the chosen townspeople to find the right person to ride a certain dragon. Throwing a quick glance at the dark castle above, you are beginning to understand why the dragons seem to consider the property as their home. 

“When a dragon requires a rider, whether it is because the dragon itself has come to age or if their previous rider has passed their time—be it from old age or if they have passed on—the King’s court will summon a few selected candidates for a new rider and have them tested, both physically and mentally, in front of the court and the dragon that is to become their partner.” 

Leaning back, you can feel your jaw setting into a hard line, something that you have to do to keep your mouth from gaping in awe. “Sounds like a rigorous process. And you said that the riders have many years of training?”  

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl nods again. “You are correct. Becoming a rider of the dragons is an important task for us. It gives us a purpose in life and a privilege to care for our land.” 

You cannot help but smile, because it does sound like a privilege to bond with these Ancient beings. To be trusted enough to work alongside them. 

“And what happens when one isn’t chosen? Or does that not happen, since you said everyone had to be prepared for it?” 

“The rest of us run the town,” he says, nodding out the window where you can see the people lounging around the small patch of garden at the center of the town square. You only notice now upon closer observation that each person wears proper attire showing their roles in this town—shopkeepers, waitresses, and a few people who look like physicians and scholars. 

“Sometimes, we even get work in the castle to serve the Dragon King as he is very, very old,” he says with his grin deepening when he takes in your reaction, “or they can serve the Ancient Gods and the Moon as the priests and priestesses, even though not many of us pray at the temples nowadays.” 

“What about you? Are you also a rider?” 

“I used to,” he answers with a gentle voice. The pride you see in his eyes seems genuine. Only this time, there is a hint of longing in them. A reminiscence of the past that he misses the most. “I was for a long time, and then I retired once I was too old to be up there in the sky, and Alastair, my dragon, chose my oldest son to replace me.” 

Unable to hide your astonishment, you let your smile grow as you picture him up there, flying with his dragon. “Does that happen a lot—to have someone who is your kin to replace your position?” 

“Only with the ones who are deeply bonded with their riders, and I’ve become bonded with Alastair after riding with him for a long time. I was only eighteen when I was chosen, so it felt like I grew into adulthood with him by my side.” He briefly looks out the window with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he is looking into the past that has been engraved in his memory. 

“But it didn’t mean that my son had it easy,” he continues with a chuckle. “He still had to go through the same tests to earn Alastair’s trust. Alastair is quite an old dragon himself. Winning his trust was a hard feat and my son had to prove his worth in front of the court until Alastair was pleased enough to bond with him.” 

Just then, two dragons glide across the ravine. One has scales in the shade of purplish-black and the other dark tan. The latter looks slightly smaller than the other. Neither has a rider on them, yet the bigger one has something similar to a horse saddle attached on its back, almost blending into their scales. 

Another question sparks through your mind as your curiosity grows. “But where do you ride these dragons to?” 

“The knights will journey with the dragons to patrol around the mountains, keeping this place and its castle safe from harm. Some will go flying across the nearby lands that are still under E’l Alora’s territory in search of resources, while others fly with them down there,” Lord Merryl replies, tilting his head towards the ravine. 

Your brows immediately rise. “What—down into the ravine?” 

Lord Merryl seems to enjoy seeing your expression when you are left in shock and he chuckles deeply. “Inside that dark ravine are mines—lots of them. Most of the ones who are chosen to ride the dragons are miners, while some others become knights who serve to protect our land and its people,” he explains. 

”The dragons who work alongside the miners will fly us down there and lend us their powers to open up the mines, dig through the rough terrains, fly our workers into the deep to gain the resources found deep within the mountains, and then bring our quarries back to the surface.” 

While your mouth drops open, he continues, “These mines were discovered many centuries ago by our ancestors—mages and elves who built their homes here in the mountains. The same ancestors who first built a deep connection with the dragons. They taught us how to maintain the mines without ruining the mountains and communicate with the dragons so we can nurture this land and the mountains together for both our gains.” 

“Mines?” You try to picture it in your mind, an elaborate mining system hidden in the depth of the chasm. Something which your book has failed to mention. “And what do you gain from these mines? 

Lord Merryl leans forward onto the table just then, waving out the window as an open carriage passes by down the street. Its driver, sitting on the front bunk with his hands on the horse’s rein waves back. His gloves are tainted in black—a similar shade to the pile of minerals filling the back of the carriage to the brim. 

“Minerals, like iron ores and other metals that are then made into weapons and armours. Stones to build our homes and the streets we have here in town. And various kinds of gemstones.” He settles back in his seat, his gaze falling onto the ruby amulet hanging from your neck. “Just like the one you are wearing now.” 

Startled, your hand comes up to your necklace. The ruby amulet hasn’t been giving you any obvious reaction since you got into town, yet it seems to shimmer under the soft lights illuminating the tavern. 

“These mines are the reason why this town exists. It shapes the lives of the people here. Those not chosen as riders will also work to develop the quarries we gain from the mines and make a business out of selling the raw materials and the goods that come out of them. We have blacksmiths working on the iron and metals, builders processing the stones, and artisans working on the gemstones. We often trade goods with other cities, so that might be where you had gotten your stone from.” 

Your mind travels back to Aeris, remembering how you have found different kinds of goods which were made of materials that you have never seen before. Weapons and armouries made of irons that are unbreakable and highly resistant to flame and magic attacks. Leather goods which appeared almost as if they were made of materials similar to the skin of the flying dragons. Amulets made with gemstones and metals that the shopkeepers claimed to have been ‘acquired from esteemed sources’ which would be able to be imbued with any kind of magic and spells. 

Running the tips of your fingers across your necklace, your mind travels back to the shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe, reminding you of what she said to you about the necklace. 

“Seems like your necklace was crafted many years ago, and the ruby is a specific kind of gemstone that is rarely found nowadays in modern cities like ours.”

Clearing your throat, you cannot help but ask, “How old do these dragons get, if I may ask?” 

“They live a very long age. The Dragon King has lived almost as old as the Ancient beings you read in your books. Alastair was born around the same time my great-great-grandfather came to this world,” he fondly speaks about his former partner. “There are older dragons that are still around, and young ones—as young as my youngest. More dragons are still being born in the present day, even though they are born a few years or decades in between.”

It would have been hard to imagine if you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes—the different sizes that the dragons appear in seem to determine their ages, which are also so clearly discernible from the lines and ridges of the skin and the sizes of their horns. 

“That’s truly remarkable.” 

Your gaze meets with one of the locals who is walking past by the window looking in. Wearing a thin, dark-coloured chest armour marks him as one of the knights that Lord Merryl had mentioned. He greets you with a short nod which you return with a smile. 

“You said that you haven’t gotten a lot of visitors lately. Don’t travellers often come by here?” you ask Lord Merryl, even if deep down, you can already guess what his answer would be. 

It would have been hard for a place like E’l Alora to be kept secret, forgotten, except for the stories and myths that have been written in the books. Not when they are still producing matters and goods that are spread within this realm. “What happens when you need to trade your goods? Your products? How do you provide for the people?” 

Lord Merryl grows silent, but it appears that your question had amused him dearly, judging from the glint you see in your eyes. “I’ve had a feeling that you aren’t just any regular traveller,” he surmises with a smile. “You seem to know more about what it takes to manage your people.”  

This is quite unexpected. It’s not often that you are made to feel like you are being stripped down, of being forced to reveal the truth behind your disguise as an anonymous traveller. The only times you ever felt this way were during those moments you came face to face with Yoongi, when he seemed to be able to look through your facade. For him to look deep enough that you felt seen. 

“Sometimes one can learn so much through the experiences and the people they encounter in their journey,” you find yourself answering. 

Which isn’t a complete lie. Throughout the weeks you spent exploring new places through the portals, you have learned much more than what you are taught under your tutors’ guidance. 

“That is the reason why I travel to different places in the first place,” you continue to admit, both to yourself and your kind host, “You can say that I’ve been going to places in search of knowledge. Anything that I can bring home and make use to guide me through life.” 

“Speaking like a true intellectual.” Lord Merryl lets out a deep chuckle. “You have earned my most respect, young, mysterious scholar.” 

Having no idea what to say to that, you simply laugh it off. 

“It has been long since outsiders come to visit us. For leisure, that is,” Lord Merryl continues after a beat of silence passes. “A long, long time ago, this used to be a prosperous land. E’l Alora was highly regarded not only as the dragons’ lair, but a small kingdom ruled by the Dragon King, notorious for his powers, magic, and old wisdom left behind by the Ancient beings who created the realm. His knowledge, together with the treasures hidden in the mountains, were all parts of the legacy left behind by our ancestors.” 

“What happened?” 

Lord Merryl lets out a sigh. “Have you learned about the war?” 

Your back stiffens as your mind works hard to file through everything you have learned so far.

It wouldn’t be wrong for you to assume that he is talking about a war happening in this fairy-tale realm, a topic that you are still learning from your tutors. But for some reason, those lessons aren’t the ones running through your thoughts right now. What comes to mind instead is the only story of the war that you spent your entire teenage years learning back at the Citadel. 

The history behind the rise of Nythelean Empire. 

You recall the story which spoke of how your father survived the fall of his previous empire, how he managed to move his family, his army, and his people to safety. How he found shelter beyond the Elcester Forest—which you have learned to be one of the few hidden passageways connecting both realms—and under the protection of Mount Orrum, to later use the rough terrain of the mountains to defeat his enemies. 

A narrow victory which left a deep wound in your father’s soul as it came with a price—losing his home and the one person he loved the most.

You are beginning to suspect that the old war may have something to do with this magical place, knowing what you know now, that Stargrave is still a part of Nythelean’s territory. There are still so many things that you have yet to learn, so many to unravel if you truly want to know more about your true home and your legacy, but so little time has been given for you to catch up with what you have missed. 

“Not much of what was left from the old times, I’m afraid,” you admit while wondering inwardly, especially nothing about the wars happening in this realm. “Nothing more than what I’ve read in the books, which I’m sure has been made distorted enough through the years that followed.” 

A nod. He doesn’t question you further before finally sharing his story. A small part of history still unbeknownst to you. 

“It was many decades ago when the war erupted in this part of the realm, affecting only the sacred lands and kingdoms that worshipped the moon and its magic. The war was known to be the Great Siege, when a small kingdom suddenly grew strong enough to rise into an empire, and challenged other—older—empires to kneel before them. They came to siege many sacred lands, places built by the Ancient beings that we all know to be our ancestors, to take and conquer as much land as they could.” 

Lord Merryl’s eyes are filled with grief and sorrow that you feel guilty for making him talk about the past. But at the same time, you want to take this chance to learn more about this place. And perhaps, you can learn more about the history that you have never studied before. 

“Must I assume the war reached this land also?” 

Lord Merryl nods. “Indeed,” he says. “At first, we had no reason to join the war, as we never had any direct connection or alliance with other kingdoms, until they came pushing at our borders, demanding us to submit to their king.” He grits his jaw tightly with anger as he speaks of their old enemy, and you can feel the pure rage coming out of him.

“The Dragon King refused to stand down, and neither did the people living here, so we defended our land the best we could. Many dragons had fallen during that war, so did the humans who fought alongside the dragons to protect this land.” 

Just then, his expression seems to shift. The deep, sorrowful grief is still there, but there is a hint of pride and longing in his eyes as he talks about those moments during the war. You had seen this same look before, when your father talked about your mother and the old days he spent together with you and your mother when life was peaceful and free. 

“We fought our best, and while we didn’t come out as victors, once the war ceased, any direct connection we had with the outer world was severed at the hands of the Dragon King and his court,” Lord Merryl continues, “it was his way of protecting his homeland, what was left of his kingdom, and the dragons and the people surviving the war.” 

As you continue to listen, something about what he just said tickles your brain, making you wonder what it is about his story which puts you in such unease. Something about it felt quite familiar, yet you cannot seem to put your finger to remember how. 

“Ever since then, E’l Alora became nothing more but a myth. The dragons who fought the war and the surviving ones you see now are known as mythical beasts that only exist in your history books and old scriptures, believed to have been extinct after the war.”

Just like how it was portrayed in the book, you bitterly wonder, as your fingers curl around the hardcover of the book that you have on your lap, while Lord Merryl’s eyes glimmer in anguish. “When in reality, they still exist, surviving, protecting their home and their people, keeping themselves in this dark, secluded place for as long as they need to be.” 

His voice then shifts into a more hopeful tone as he carries on. “We do whatever we can to survive through the shift of time, just as you expected we would, for us to sustain our way of living,” Lord Merryl says with a teasing tone, drawing a smile to your face. “Our farms aren’t as vast or as prosperous as others, but we make what we do with the limited resources that are hidden beyond these mountains.” 

As Lord Merryl nods towards the rocky mountains across the ravine, you finally understand what he meant earlier when he spoke about the dragons and their riders going around the land beyond the mountains. You picture them exploring beyond those rocky peaks to a land of green that is hidden from view, filled with crops and other sustenance for the townspeople of E’l Alora. 

“We also have our local merchants who would travel in and out of the territory through a hidden route that only the townspeople know about as they make trades of our products with goods from other places beyond the borders. Most of our remaining neighbours and alliances are loyal when it comes to keeping us hidden, making sure our trade wouldn’t risk our secret from spreading out. That is how we are surviving today.”

With another nod, he points at the crest that you kept on looking at earlier. The insignia left behind by The Brotherhood of Jorn. “The only outsiders that we have ever welcomed so far are the mercenaries. We have some of our former knights and dragon-riders-to-be who decided to join the mercenary army to travel to different places while helping us to keep up with what has been going on in the realm. They also act as the middlemen between us and the outer world, allowing us to keep our home hidden from any sort of threat from outside our borders.” 

Looking at the crest, you are beginning to see them in a new light. The stories and rumours that you have once heard from your father’s men continue to echo through your head whenever you look at them. But now, it feels like you are looking at a different side of the mercenary group which many others may not have been able to see. 

“Aside from these trusted people, the townspeople aren’t exactly easy to trust strangers. Even those who knew anything about this place and dared enough to travel this far wouldn’t be so bold to enter a territory filled with cautious townspeople, much less living dragons.” 

“I—but I didn’t see all of that when I first got here,” you admit to him as you recall the way they had all treated you when you first entered the town. “The townspeople I’ve come across with have been quite friendly. Even though I did catch some who seemed wary of my presence and kept their distance, there weren’t so many that would have made me feel unsafe or uncomfortable.” 

Chuckling softly, the man nods his head. “That’s just how our people are, perhaps. Most of us still retain the same hospitality we had in the past, or perhaps the long period of time we spent living in solitude has made us long to have a connection to the outer world which we’ve lost.” 

In a way, you can see it. Your own experience of living in constant hiding, years spent in a life similar to being hidden in a shroud, has made you long for something similar. Had that been the reason why you felt so connected with Yoongi since the first time you met him? Because you were so lonely that his presence instantly filled the void that you harboured inside? 

“But most of us are adequate judges of characters. So do the dragons, in fact. If anyone sensed that you came bringing danger with you, then you wouldn’t have been welcomed with such hospitality.” A pause, and his gaze suddenly drifts down, stopping at your necklace. “Your necklace may have also turned to your favour in finding your way to our homeland. Just as I mentioned, the gemstone looks like one acquired from our mines. For us, it would be easy to recognise something that was obtained from our land.” 

On instinct, your hand moves to grab onto your amulet. Its glow reflecting on Lord Merryl’s face, which seems to be the reason why his attention keeps being drawn to it. “You think that the necklace guided me here?” 

He slowly nods. “I’d like to believe that there may be forces leading you to find a way to this place. For what reason, that is yet to be determined,” he says with a gentle smile, while your mind wanders back to how you found the magic door the first time. 

Looking back to it now, you realise that there is no such thing as a coincidence that the door revealed its true form when you passed by the hall earlier. You wonder what kind of force played a hand in you finding this place, to be following the trail that leads you to where your magic necklace seems to have come from. 

The same way you did when you found your way to Aeris. 

Lord Merryl’s gaze lingers on your necklace while you are in deep thought. His voice draws you back to him when he muses, “That necklace—must have been something special for you.” 

Twisting the ruby amulet between your fingers, a tiny wave of grief washes over you. “It’s—it was handed down to me by my mother.” The only thing of hers that you get to keep, you realise as sadness fills the cavity in your chest. “I was made to promise to keep it in my person every time I am to leave home. It was said that the necklace is meant to protect me.” 

Looking up, you are surprised to see a slight change happening in Lord Merryl’s gaze. There is something there for a moment. A look which reminds you of the way Lord Gordan looked the last time you talked to him about your mother—recognition, longing, mixed with a hint of sorrow.

“Perhaps protection isn’t the only thing that has been ingrained in your necklace,” he says, just as that ineffable look in his eyes fades before you get to find the meaning behind it. “Some amulets can serve as a guide, showing you which directions to take and helping you to find what it is that you are searching for in need be.” 

“That is possible,” you whisper. “That’s right. In this realm, anything is possible.” 

Even the impossible, you wonder, as you marvel at how peculiar your life has been ever since you crossed the realm. 

Silence falls between you for a brief moment, until a movement catches your attention and your eyes drift towards the open window again. Just as the old, largest dragon that had guided you here earlier suddenly appears, gliding gracefully across the chasm at a slow, leisurely pace. 

From this close distance, you get to see the details of its midnight-black scale and the row of pointed horns framing its head, going back to its spine and then disappearing across its long swishing tail. Its crimson eyes are widely opened, almost as if it has sensed your presence and is now trying to find you among the mortals living in this town. 

But when the dragon circles back and slows down almost to a halt right in front of the tavern, its gaze flickering to where Lord Merryl is sitting, your lips tip up to a smile.

“Alastair?” 

Lord Merryl chuckles softly as he nods, greeting the giant dragon who responds to his former rider with a deep, long trill before he then takes flight. The flap of his wings sends a wave of thick dust across the town square and onto the tavern’s walls, drawing a series of laughter from the people who are lounging outside.

“He got curious and came by to say hello,” Lord Merryl says with a deep chuckle while sounding like he is talking about an old friend that he dearly respects and cares for the most. His smile widens when you softly laugh along with him. It makes you feel giddy on the inside, completely amused that the mighty dragon has chosen to acknowledge your presence in his home. 

Last night, your dream brought you to a different place. 

Instead of finding yourself standing on the top of a cliff, looking down at a thriving land of greens with crystal-like rivers and posh structures in white, you saw yourself walking up a hill covered with a widespread of green grass. 

Perched gracefully atop the verdant hill is a temple that appeared almost twice as high as the local churches you had often seen in the capital city of Smotia. With structures built from bone-coloured stones, the temple appeared like a sculpture of light under the cerulean sky. 

In your dream, you were as barefoot as always as you walked the winding path leading towards the entrance of the temple. Flanked by whispering trees and blooming wildflowers, their vibrant hues appeared as muted as the sunlight warming your skin. 

Approaching the temple, you were greeted by the grand staircase covered in the same bone-coloured stones which formed the temple’s structure. Each step of stairs felt both cold and smooth under your feet as you slowly made your way up. As you came to the entrance foyer, you were welcomed by majestic columns of white lining up the halls, rising to support the roof that seemed to touch the heavens. The massive entrance door stood at the center of a stone wall adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from myth and legends—most of them you have seen depicted in your history books. 

Upon entering through the threshold, you were greeted by the cool, tranquil interior and a faint scent of waning incense. The temple was empty, aside from the flickering candlelights that aligned the low dais built on each side of the walls within the grand hall. 

It felt like you were drawn by an unseen force as you walked toward the center of the hall, stopping where lights filtered through from above. Looking up, you caught the sight of the dome ceiling above, made up of a thick glass that looked more like clear crystal, it allowed some sunlight to penetrate into the grand hall. 

At the heart of the temple stood a grand altar draped in a layer of golden silk and adorned with garlands of fresh flowers. A marble statue of an Ancient stood at the center, surrounded by unlit candles, golden bowls filled with red wine, and golden plates filled with offerings of fruit, bread, and fragrant oils that were laid at its feet. 

The walls at the far back of the hall were just as pale as the rest, yet the entire surface was covered in tapestries. Banners made of silk in pale ivory colours, each one with the symbol of the moon painted in gold in the center, insinuating that this place was where worshippers come to pray to the moon. 

You tried to take another step forward, wishing to have a good look at the Ancient standing at the altar—a tall figure with long silky hair wearing the attire of a hunter, with swords attached onto either side of its hips and a set of bow and arrows hanging on its back—when a strong breeze came rushing in. It came so suddenly that you were forced to close your eyes, shutting you off from this peculiar place until the breeze faded. 

Barely a minute passed as you kept your eyes closed, yet you could feel it when the world you saw slowly began to shift. 

The temperature rapidly dipped. The cold breeze carried with it the same menacing scent of decay which always followed you each time these dreams ended, causing your blood to run winter-cold which had you refraining from opening your eyes.

But you rarely ever had any control of yourself—of anything at all—while you were in a dream. There was nothing stopping you from opening your eyes, to witness what had unfolded in the mere seconds that passed. 

Everything that you saw previously—all the vibrant colours, the elegance that was part of this temple, and the alluring beauty which captivated you—had withered. The temple was no longer whole. 

The stone pillars were now damaged and fractured in places. So did the artistic stone walls which were now filled with splinters and covered in soot. Parts of the roof were now gone, with the crystal dome partly shattered, leaving not much barrier between you and the dull-grey sky above. 

The floor that had been clear and bright-coloured was now covered with dirt and dried blood, with a thin layer of fog crawling around your feet. The grandeur you saw at the altar had wilted to ruins—the flowers had dried out, the draperies and banners were charred and singed, candles were fully burned and melted, and the offerings all scattered and spilled on the floor, the bowls and plates all toppled and broken in pieces around the broken statue. The striking figure of the Ancient depicted by the statue had become shapeless, with its face chipped in multiple places and gaping fractures soiling its upper body to leave it almost completely disjointed. 

Once again, you were made to witness how quick and easy it was for life to wither and wane, the unseen beauty of this unknown world fading right before your eyes, merely moments before you were pulled away to wake. 

Sleep felt like nothing more but broken fragments as exhaustion weighed on you all morning since you woke up. 

Not even your busy, daily routine could help get your mind out of your eerie dream when it kept returning to you whenever your mind was idle. 

Fragments of last night’s dream kept coming back while Lady Laurel had you reading different passages of the books that were part of her lesson—Ancestors Of Magic, Languages Of The East, Ancients And Emperors—that would have usually piqued your interest. 

Not even the etiquette and ballroom dance lessons with Lady Abigail could do much to distract you from the grim visuals of the broken temple. As someone who has known you her whole life, she didn’t miss the lack of focus that you put in her lesson that she finally gave in and sent you back to your bedchamber with her scolding, 

“Rest and clear your idle mind before you hurt yourself.” 

And when Lord Gordan wasn’t there for your afternoon lesson to help take your mind off of the haunting shadows of your dream, you chose not to remain in your bedchamber as advised by your governess. Instead, you stripped out of your day dress and slipped into a different attire—a pair of dark breeches and boots, with a loose tunic as your top to make it easier to move around—and marched towards the royal courtyard with your shortsword in hand, searching for a way to keep your mind from becoming idle. 

Anything to keep your body and mind busy. To get the images out of your head and tire yourself out just enough so you wouldn’t dream again in the night. 

Even if it meant challenging a knight or a royal guard in the middle of their sword training to have a spar with.

“You have quite an outstanding form, Your Highness,” Sir Stephan, the tan-skinned royal guard who had volunteered to be your sparring partner exclaims as he watches you return to your position after blocking his strike. “That wasn’t an easy feat to follow.” 

“I told you to not underestimate me, knight,” you retort back with a smile, enjoying the adrenaline rushing through your body. It has been a while since you felt so alive, to be able to move this freely and use your entire body to its full potential the way you did when you had to practice your sword fighting with your father and his knights. 

Amused, the guard’s lips twist to a smirk. “I must do well to remember not to show you such disrespect,” he says as he swings his sword back into position, showing you that he is serious. 

Not that he has been taking things easy from the start. 

While your arrival at the south courtyard earlier had sparked confusion and shock from the royal guards, he was the only one who didn’t look at you as if you were completely out of your mind. He was also the first to step up and volunteer when you openly asked to have a sparring session. 

“I wouldn’t dare shame the royal knighthood nor Her Highness by not doing this seriously,” was his promise when you told him not to hold back, and it pleases you to see him making good on his words to you. For you to not be treated like you were made out of glass, like how other royal guards have been treating you. 

Through your sparring, getting a closer look at your opponent, it didn’t take much to understand why. 

At first, you recognised him as one of the royal guards who has specifically been assigned to guard you during your evening routines. With a closer look at his face and the way he swings his broadsword against your shorter one, you finally remember him as one of the guards escorting you the night you departed from the Citadel. 

The same guard who slipped away from the line of escorts to fight off the unidentified figures pursuing your carriage into the Elcester Forest that night. 

Your fight continues, and as he still keeps the same fortitude as he would had he been sparring against his fellow guards, you return it with all that you have. 

His strikes are strong, with each clash and contact making it obvious that your sword is much lighter than the one he uses. But it doesn’t mean that you are going to make it easy for him to bring you down. 

The hilt of the shortsword feels good in your hand. There is a welcomed weight in your hold as you swing it against your opponent. A presence that you hadn’t expected to be something that you have been missing the most. When you strike, your eyes are focused and your hand is firm, and you catch him by surprise when you make a quick work on your feet and make a clean swipe against him, coming close to nicking at his sharp chin before he deflects your attack with one quick swing of his sword. 

A series of cheers echo from all around you as the guards witness him stumbling back. Only slightly, but enough to show that your attack is enough to rattle him. 

You can tell that your sparring has gained some more audience, with the guards putting their training on hold to watch you fight one of their strongest fighters. Their voices are loud across the courtyard as they encourage the fight while taunting their comrade. It should make you feel self-conscious if only you are not too immersed in giving a good fight against the guard.  

“Be careful, Stevie. Don’t want to see you lose a chance for promotion if you hurt the Princess,” you hear the captain of the guards speak from the side. 

“I have a feeling that I should be the one to worry about getting hurt,” Sir Stephan jokes back to his comrade between each strike of his sword, his voice drowning under the loud clangs of the swords coming upon contact as you keep blocking his attacks. 

As he slows down while responding to his comrades’ taunting laughter, you take the chance to make another move. Taking advantage of his lack of focus, you thrust your sword toward him. He blocks you with one swing and you shoot forward, spinning on your heel and swinging your hand back, slamming the hilt of your sword against his stomach. Sir Stephan recoils with a grunt upon impact. 

“Oh, Fates,” he curses with a cough. A rough chuckle comes from his lips as he recovers to shout at his friends laughing at him, “Told ya.” 

You quickly step away from him while everyone whistles, cheering for your move. “Stay focused, Sir Stephan. Don’t want you to actually get hurt,” you playfully taunt him as you move into position, ready to continue.  

Seeing this prompts Stephan to strike first, swinging his broadsword down to your side, which you block using the back of your sword. The sound of the deep grunt escaping his lips draws more taunting from the other guards.

“Already getting tired, Stevie?” 

Letting out a heavy laugh, your opponent cleverly responds without missing a beat. “I think the Princess is just a bit too tough for me to handle, that’s what.” 

“Good thing you volunteered in our place since if you lose this fight, there’s no way any of us could defeat Her Highness.” 

“Maybe we should recommend your early retirement, old man. Her Highness can always take your place.” 

“Right on. The Princess isn’t even sweating and yet there you are trembling. Even your form isn’t right.” 

Their compliments please you, even if some of it is far from the truth. You can feel sweat coming down between your brows and in between your breasts. Your breath is growing shallow, and if only any of the guards weren’t so preoccupied with keeping a close watch on each strike of sword clashing through the sparring, they would have noticed the way your legs are beginning to quiver as you block another strike from Sir Stephan’s broadsword. 

As your exhaustion sinks in, what comes into your nearly idle mind is not a part of the dream that you wished so badly to forget, but the words of a wise man who has followed you home ever since your visit to E’l Alora. 

“Before you go, I must be honest and admit something. Lest I regret it in case we never meet again,” was what Lord Merryl said to you last night before you left E’l Alora to return home. The look that he was giving you then stayed in your mind until you came back to the castle. “You remind me of someone.” 

“Someone you knew?” 

His lips twitched to a soft smile. “Long ago, before the war, before this land became as secluded as the way it is now, we used to have travellers coming through our town, often staying with us for a time to experience life here as our guests. There was one who Alastair and I had the privilege to get acquainted with during that time. A female traveller who claimed to be a scholar and was travelling through sacred lands in search of knowledge about the Ancients, much like you.” Once again, you saw a glimpse of longing in his eyes as he spoke. “She looked quite like you, and I am quite sure she was around your age when she frequently came to visit us.” 

Then his longing gaze fell on your necklace for one last time. “And she was wearing a necklace similar to yours.”

Sir Stephan’s sudden strike snaps you back to the present. His move isn’t as fast as his previous offences, but the blow of his sword rattles your entire arm the moment it makes contact with yours. You barely manage to deflect his attack, the clash between swords and the force that he uses pushing you back a step. Yet you are still capable of cutting his blow, even if it comes with a cost. 

Your knees buckle as you pull your sword back. Snapping your sword down, you stab its tip onto the ground to keep you from falling on your knees. 

“Your Highness, is everything all right?” Sir Stephan calls out gently, sounding concerned. Yet he makes no move to approach you, something which you respect coming from him. 

Laughing nervously, you straighten up and shake your head. “Seems like I was right all along. I’m quite out of practice.” 

The guard looks relieved to hear this. His lips twist into something which resembles a pride smile. “For the record, you are still much better than some of the guards here,” he compliments you as he slowly lowers his sword. “And in a much better shape as well, seeing that you are still standing on your two feet.” 

“I take it as a compliment.” Sheathing your sword, you bow your head slightly towards him. “Thank you for lending me your time. We should do this again next time.” 

Lifting his sword and crossing it against his chest, Sir Stephan greets you with a formal bow. “I’ll be ready to spar with you again, Your Highness. If ever you need to.” 

You turn to greet the other guards with a slight bow before turning away to leave. Behind you, the captain of the royal guards begins rounding up his men to resume their sword training. The sounds of them shuffling back into their position and the clanging of swords follow your departure. 

Except for Sir Stephan. 

Even without looking over your shoulder, you can feel the heat of his gaze pressing on your back. It shouldn’t bother you so much to have him watching you go, as he is simply doing his duty as your guard ever since the Citadel. Yet it suddenly feels unsettling how familiar his presence feels for you, even as you put distance between you.

He reminds you of someone. Of a moment in time that is lost in your memory. Yet your mind is too exhausted and you are too weary to figure out how. 

You try not to dwell on it as you make your way around the small rising leading to the West Tower. Avoiding the side corridor where the entrance of the tower is located, you choose to walk a bit further towards the door hidden behind the hill. 

At this time of the day, this side of the tower is quiet. Only the palace maids use this access door, yet you have learned enough to know that none would be passing here during the time they are finishing most of their late afternoon duties. 

Crossing the threshold, you arrive in a small hall connected to the long winding stairwell going up to the upper floors. Amongst them is the corridor leading towards your bedchamber, where you can finally rest—both your mind and body—for the day. 

Your mind is once again idle as you begin to ascend the stairs. Idle due to exhaustion, yet still enough to silence all thoughts and wonders. 

For a moment, you feel hopeful about dragging yourself towards your bed, even if your legs still tremble while you climb up the stairs. The shortsword feels as if it has gained weight as it keeps bumping against your thigh in your journey back to your quarters. 

Yet in that comforting silence, your senses are on high alert. Sharpened enough to feel a peculiar sensation rising within that stairwell. 

A feeling that is quite similar to what you have often felt whenever you come across any silver doors hiding your father’s magic portals. 

Curious, you begin to proceed cautiously. The logical part of your mind is telling you that it might just be in your head. There is nothing up there other than the long corridors of the west wing of Stargrave, where your bedchamber is placed. 

As you continue going up the stairs, there is really no mistaking it—the soft hum of magic reverberating through the air, beckoning you to come close.

With one hand wrapped around the hilt of your sword, and the other reaching up to touch the silver key hanging on your necklace—placed together alongside your ruby amulet to make sure that you would keep it close to you at all times—you continue to proceed.

Right before you reach the floor connecting you to your private quarters, you arrive at a landing. 

There, right to your left, appears a small archway that seems to have been built into the wall. Similar to the door which took you to E’l Alora, it appears like nothing more but a wall ornament. It seems impossible for it to serve as a door. Not at this part of the tower, when the small windows placed on either side of it are showing you a massive fall towards the shoreline below. 

At the center of the archway, what seems to be a carved wall ornament appears to be a plate made up of old wood. It has silver hinges on one side—the only sign allowing you to identify it as a door—and floral embellishments pressed across the surface. The silver embellishments are marred by patches of reddish-brown rust, hiding the silver shine under the uneven, flaky crust spreading on its surface.

Standing before it, you realise that the humming spell is more muted here compared to the ones you have heard and felt from the other magic doors. Yet the sensation you feel all through your body is just the same. 

Your racing heartbeat. The pulse of warmth surging through your skin. Even the way your necklace is vibrating against your skin feels just the same. 

Cautiously, you slip the key off of your necklace. With a deep breath, and your curiosity rising, you silently pray that the door truly opens to another magic portal instead of sending you plunging into the rough sea below. 

The key fits perfectly in the keyhole and it opens with one click, immediately opening as if there is an unseen force helping you to reveal what is hidden beneath. The ripple of magic which appear in the form of a blue mirror manifests right before your eyes, opening the way for your next adventure. 

“I suppose there is no rest for today”—you sigh—“yet. Here we go.” 

The flow of magic engulfs you as you take a step into the portal. It clings onto your body like a cold glove, causing tingles on your skin while your heart palpitates as your own mana reacts to it. This time, the humming spell sounds more like chants of prayers. Still spoken in a language that you are unable to comprehend. 

Your journey across lasts only for a blink of an eye before the heels of your boots land on solid ground. A cold breeze washes over you, filled with the scents of moss and petrichor. Not in the kind which you would often find in the countryside, but more at places that are mostly deserted—like castle ruins or abandoned churches, perhaps unexplored caves in the wild. 

Releasing a deep exhale of breath, you open your eyes, only to have the rest of it getting knocked right out of your chest. As if reality comes crashing on you with a hard punch as you realise where you are. 

You have emerged right in the heart of an old temple. 

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