#and then how do you deal with the. literal. black. servants.

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

Blackwood farm may be a kinda questionable entry in the vampire chronicles BUT that is only because it wasnt told in what its true medium shouldve been, an internet arg

[astrow0rldx]

Jeffrey Dahmer Birth Chart Reading

analysis

brah astrology is so real i can't even fathom. what's going on up there?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Experienced Astrologer for 7-8 years now. I'm new to networking, tumblr and having an astrology content account & paid readings so just follow my private Instagram account universalstarbaby00 for any inquiry ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

lets talk about his chart ruler. he's a libra ascendant, so his perception & outlook on life is finding love. he is very attractive, charming, charismatic, and alluring. So with libra ruling his chart, his chart ruler is his Venus. His Venus placement is Taurus in the 8th house. Now the sign is how it's expressed. the behavior & the house is the theme of life & area it resides in. So taurus literally represents food & 8th house represents death. Venus literally represents his turn ons, how he is towards love. Taurus is your physical pleasures, your sensual pleasures, being at home in venus, he strongly connected with that. while libra is aesthetic artistic venus because it is an air sign. taurus is more luxurious, physical venus because it is an earth sign. taurus, actually rules the body, the neck, food, so yea he was into that. BUTTTT in the 8th house. of death, possession, power, sex. 8th house is all about possessions of others & it deals with the darker sides & under world. this is where your trauma is, rebirth/regeneration, injuries/accidents/diseases, destruction & death, to gain power. where you possess others & have desire, hidden & secrets, have control & receive support like money & finances, seduction, temptation, possessiveness, jealousy, obligations, taxes. That's LITERALLY where his love lived. Not only his love & venus but his sun at 0 degrees SHARP! his ego, his sense of self, his will, his identity. & his mercury (his mindset, way you process & think, ideas, communicate) lives there too. SCARYYYYY.

But that mars sign tho. Where your mars is places we get to see what drove him, what motivated him, his primal desires. In the expression & behavior of aries, he was definitely PASSIONATE, aggresive, sitting at home in mars. but firing it up. These Primal Desires living in the 6th house of themes & areas of life like daily routine, "what I have to do", health, pets, slaves, clients, servants, contribution to society. He was determined to do what he had to do with a lot of passion, he was a hard worker & got through obstacles. Really felt adrenaline in completing projects, and with other dark placements like his, when your turned on by eating dead people, you get that passion to want to do that a lot. Like he said once he started he couldn't stop, maybe the victims and the goal he accomplished was fulfilling his desires. Now mars is your primal desires & what motivates you but like we know that's shown in your sexual desires to. So people with this placement are really freaky because they might want to have sex everyday. Now they may like to serve their partners, or get horny in places like work or when people are serving them. I'm literally black so I hope I don't get criticism for saying this, but while 6th house rules slaves & mars lived there, he probably was sexually passionate to the fact that black people could be his slaves & they reminded him of someone that could serve him & do what they "have" to do. Black people aren't slaves ofc, and people aren't associated with slavery. He was probably raised in a family, it was the 60's. His subconscious & information consumption did that to his brain.

Speaking on that! Lets to get to this prominent, Neptune Ascending, Living in the first house. Neptune rules the other dimensions, spirituality, astral projection, sleeping, dreams, fantasies, daydreams, ideas, Movies, Tv shows, Inspiration. That up in the clouds energy. So people with Neptune in its first house trip people out, they confuse people. they project fantasies onto others. deceitful & very confused between reality and their heads. harley have any boundaries. So people like that might be egotistal & always play victim/be passive aggressive. so then i want to look at his ego myself (which is his sun sign) & how he thinks, which we said before is both in the 8th house of hidden, secrets, dark stuff, death & sex.

lastly before I punch in some asteroids in his chart, lets talk about YOU GUYS!! HIS VIEWERS. In his 10th house is his reputation, his aura & public image. when you look at historians & celebrities you see how they fit in this world, and its shown in their 10th house. his Uranus is their. the planet of the freaks & aliens. the one who is theoritical & coming up with something new, different, kinky, inventive, odd. like wtffff or woahhhhh. AND NEXT his 11th house, of social media, networking, groups, ideals, community (which also rules uranus) so that revolutionary, inventive, wishes & goals energy. It's the house of the humanitarian so we can change humanity. Aquarius is an air sign (ruled by the 11th house) very good with people. So 11th house can even be how you make friends, who's your friends. How you network & get around. "I know a guy". Anyways that's the house so area of life. theme of life where his pluto & north node lives. your pluto is your trauma, death & rebirth. your transformation, power & sex. so networking & how he got around humanitarianly was, those areas of life with his friends & social media (netflix), network (whoever broadcasted about him) was his rebirth, his transformation, his DEATH. one of the people in his group/community (jail) killed him. Jeffery Dahmer is dead. 8th house represents death to ruling pluto. his sun mercury & venus is there so his ego mind & love literally killed him. Another planet in the 11th house, of networking, social media like netflix, (this for all the people that know him off the show). North Node, what your supposed to become in this lifetime, your purpose is placed there. He was meant to be networked.

Okay you know I had to put Nessus (7066) in. Nessus is an abuser. The area of life it fell in, themes of life is.... drumroll please...... THE 8TH HOUSE, of death, sex, power, etc. But theres us, we live in the 10th house of his public image, reputation, social status, that's our version of him. (111) Ate & (128) Nemesis lives there. Ate is about infatuation, mischief, blindfold-ness. Nemesis is about your arch enemies. Eros (433) & Lust (4386) conjuncts his mars, blending in & amplifying. VERYYY sexual man. In the sign of Aries of assertiveness, aggression, drive & motivation. towards the 6th house of health, what i have to do, daily routines, job, work, clients, slaves, & pets. Last two asteroids lives in the 5th house. what he did that made him shine, his creativity & drama, his pleasures & orgasm. The first Asteroid is Anubis (1912). Anubis is an Ancient Egyptian God, which ancient Egypt (before known as Kemet) originated civilization. He was the original god of the dead. hmmm. So he fell in his house of how Jeffery likes to play & pleasure himself. Last asteroid, that also fell in that house was Zeus (5731) God of War & Sexual Power. OKAY IM DONE. because whatttttt!

[delphinidin4]

I just had a brainwave about Mansfield Park. This might be something that Jane Austen fans already know and think is obvious, but I've never heard it discussed, and I think it really clears up a lot of things about this book for me.

So scholars are always talking about how this book intersects with slavery. First of all, the Antigua property that isn't doing so well would have been worked by enslaved people (keeping slaves was still legal in Antigua, though selling them there was not). Also, at one point Fanny asks Sir Thomas a question about the slave trade, though it isn't really elaborated on. I saw this discussed again and again in the (admittedly little) scholarship I read on this book, and it always seemed weird to me that they zeroed in on that detail.

More recently, I read Margaret Doody's book on the names Austen used in her work, and she pointed out that the famous legal case that declared slavery to be illegal in England was called the Mansfield Decision. Any reader at the time, reading that novel, would have that information in the back of their head, and it would have informed how they read the book.

This much I knew. But I always felt like these arguments never really explained what slavery had to do with the love story of Fanny Price: even Doody never seemed to connect this factoid about the title very deeply with the novel's themes (a problem I had with a number of her discussions in that book).

More recently, I saw it pointed out that Fanny Price is treated like a slave by Mrs. Norris, and I thought, "Aha! Finally, an explanation!" But it still didn't feel complete to me.

But I just realized: you can take that metaphor a lot farther. (For this argument, please keep in mind that Austen, though on the side of the abolitionists, was a 19th-century woman who didn't have the same sensibilities about the discussion of race as we do now.)

--Like an enslaved person, Fanny is taken from her home and her family and moved far, far away (she isn't kidnapped, of course, but stick with me).

--The family that she joins considers her to be naturally stupider than they are because she has not had the advantage of their education. This is similar to African slaves, whom white people looked down on and thought intellectually inferior because they didn't have a western education.

--The term "family" at the time included the household servants and slaves, not just the actual family. Fanny, the poor relation, joins the household less like a cousin/niece, and more like a servant or an enslaved person. She is literally relegated to sleep in an attic, like a maid.

--Fanny suffers a great deal emotionally because she misses her family (especially Edward). Austen, as an abolitionist, would likely have read accounts like Olaudah Equiano's autobiography, which often described the intense emotional suffering of enslaved people separated from their homes and families.

--One of the justifications slaveholders gave for slavery was that they were "improving" the lives of the Africans they enslaved, by teaching them Christianity and occasionally, trades or other forms of education. Fanny is ostensibly being brought to Mansfield to give her a good education. And while she does get that education, she really functions much more in the household like a servant to Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris.

--Fanny IS taught a great deal of morality by Edmund, who is a bit of a prig. It seems hypocritical of him to be constantly "schooling" her in morality when it often seems like Fanny is more naturally ethical than he is. This mirrors the hypocrisy of white slaveholders who deigned to teach their slaves Christianity while acting extremely unchristian themselves.

--Fanny ends up with an inferiority complex because she is constantly torn down by Mrs. Norris and treated as inferior by Maria and Julia. In reality, she's very intelligent, well-read, and ethical in a way that none of them area. This mirrors the way black folks were unfairly treated as inferior by white society.

--The injustice of the Bertrams toward Fanny is so obvious to outsiders that even the morally deficient Crawfords are indignant about it. Mrs. Norris makes a snide remark to Fanny about "who and what she is" (a reference to racism?) and Mary Crawford is indignant on Fanny's behalf and rushes in to comfort her. Henry Crawford--at least, after he falls in love with Fanny--says that the way the family has treated her is disgraceful, and that he is going to show them how they should have been treating her all along. Austen may be pointing to the idea that slavery is SO wrong that it should be obvious to everybody.

I conclude that the book is titled Mansfield Park because Austen wants to point out that while slavery may be illegal in England, poor relations are still often treated like slaves by their families.

That being said, here are some questions this analogy throws up:

--Why is Sir Thomas so much nicer to Fanny after his stay in Antigua, where he would have been witnessing slavery on a daily basis? What does this say about him, both as an uncle and a slaveowner?

--Fanny goes home to Portsmouth, and finds that she doesn't like it and it isn't as neat and orderly as she would like. Is this Austen saying that if enslaved people went back to Africa, they would find that they still felt western society to be superior? How would we square that idea with the point above that westerners are not superior to Africans?

--Why does Fanny end up with Edmund? If he's analogous to the son of a slaveowner and she's analogous to a slave, why is she in love with him in the first place, and why does Austen seem to reify her choice by making them get together in the end? (Remember that even Austen's sister Cassandra felt strongly that Fanny should have ended up with Henry Crawford, not the priggish Edmund.) Is Fanny brainwashed by the Bertrams? How does that relate to the slaveholding analogy?

[cup1dz]

I LOVE YOU (g/n reader x jamil viper) ★ jamil viper leaves you heartbroken when you find out what he's been doing to you for... pretty much most of your life! oof, ouch!! ★ angst! but if you don't read the last half, you can pretend its fluff :3 ★ a second chance romance without the second chance

you lived a lavish life as a child. every day, you were draped in the finest silks, smooth and bright white clothes hugged your figure and sparkling, expensive necklaces were clasped around your neck. you didn’t even have to raise a finger to slip on a shoe. your luxurious way of living was all attributed to your father, who was a prominent merchant in the scalding sands. he was smart, witty, charismatic, everything a merchant could possibly need to become successful. in your eyes, he was someone you looked up to, somebody you wanted to become. you had grown up thinking of all the ways you could become just like him, well known in the industry and powerful. 

so, when your father ended up striking a business deal with the asim family, you just had to come with. how often were you going to get a chance like this? this was a way to gain strong connections and cement your future as an influential person, just like your father. 

there was just one problem... the boy standing next to the asim heir was extremely distracting.  

seriously! how were you supposed to focus on business when the servant serving the asim heir was so... pretty?! everything about him was frustratingly gorgeous, from the way he had his silky, jet-black hair tied back, from the way he wore his eyeshadow, from the way his charcoal-colored eyes bore into you... 

...wait. great sevens, he was looking at you. 

and suddenly everything you’ve learnt the past few years from your father have vanished, completely useless in front of the pretty servant boy. in the end, you couldn’t even get a word out and just let your father do all the talking. dejected and totally flustered out of your mind, you prepared to go home with your father and berate yourself for letting such an opportunity pass by just because you got enchanted by some boy. that is, until kalim al-asim himself had jumped up and basically forced you to be his friend. 

not that you were complaining. kalim was somebody everyone wanted to be close friends with, and with him as a best friend you were sure you were going to be able to achieve your dreams. that, and it also gave you an excuse to say hi to the servant boy you practically swooned over on day one. 

jamil viper. sevens, you were pathetically in love with him. you shouldn’t be, you know this well, you should follow in your father’s footsteps and be able to cultivate a successful business, and here you are kicking your feet and squealing every time he so much as acknowledges you with a glance. when did you get so pitiful? 

you must’ve been too obvious with your feelings because kalim had basically confessed for you one day when you had come over at his invitation. he was throwing another party, like he does pretty much every other day, and he wanted your opinion on what silks he should use... and then suddenly the conversation started becoming about dances and dance partners and...  

...out of nowhere, kalim had said, “jamil, you should be their partner! they really, really, really like you!” with a large grin that implied that he felt no guilt over what he just did to you.  

you were about to pull out kalim’s hair then. grab him by his white locks and drag him against the floor, punch him right in the face and yell at him and scream and... 

“...is that so? well, i’d be honored to be their dance partner for the party. in fact, i quite like them too.” 

great sevens. now youre about to pass out. you were so relieved that you thanked kalim over and over instead of murdering him with your bare hands as was originally planned. 

the next few years with jamil pass by in a blur. literally. you start having these horrible blanks in your memory, moments where you just can’t seem to recall what happened. kalim tells you he goes through the same thing, and that he knows just the guy to help.  

and that guy just so happens to be jamil viper. he told you it was nothing to worry about. just you being forgetful, probably. after all, kalim goes through the same thing, and you both knew how ditzy and airheaded he was at times, right? it’s normal, he said, don’t worry about it too much. 

and you trusted him. because he wouldn’t lie to you, would he? you loved jamil and he loved you. didnt he? 

he rubbed soothing circles on your back whenever you came to him crying, telling him that you just don’t know what to do, that your skin sometimes doesn’t even feel like your own. when you tried helping him with the preparations for one of kalim’s party, he ushered you out and told you that he doesn’t want you getting hurt. that he’ll be fine on his own and to not worry about him. he told you he’ll take care of everything for you. he’s a softie at heart, you know this, you know him. don’t you? 

jamil is your lover. so why does it feel like you don’t really know him at all? 

you don’t even really remember how the orientation ceremony for the academy you were attending went. but you do remember before the ceremony, when you had noted the slight hesitation before jamil had congratulated you and told you he was going to the same academy. at the time, you were so excited, it was so easy to gloss it over as a kind of relieved shock.  

you also remember after the ceremony. and it was so easy to gloss over the way that jamil seemed to be slightly more irritated than normal in the period after kalim was assigned dorm leader, too. surely, you had told yourself, he was just going through a few bad weeks. after all, kalim had thrown party after party after he became dorm leader, anyone would be frustrated if they had to work behind the scenes to prepare every single one. it’s not his fault. was it? 

in retrospect, you cringe at just how delusional you were. you had fallen right into jamil viper’s plans, he played you like a fiddle. and you prided yourself on being just like your father? smart and not easily fooled? 

it’s obvious now, just how much jamil had used both you and kalim to carry out his whims. the way he had so perfectly made kalim the bad guy in a story where you and him were the victims. a story where you were the damsel in distress that jamil would save from kalim’s wicked ways. a story in which jamil would rise above everyone else. 

and it’s so obvious now, that to jamil, you really were just another pawn in his plans. another naive rich kid that would blindly place their trust in him and not question why he did things the way he did. that whimsical moment where he had glanced at you and your heart exploded with love wasn’t reciprocated. 

why didn’t you notice it sooner? why didn’t you notice the way that jamil kept asking you to look into his eyes, the way you always seem to blank out when you’re around him, and only him? why did you so thoughtlessly trust him? why did you let him use his unique magic on you for so long? 

sevens, you're an idiot. you’re an idiot, and you hate how your heart still broke for jamil during his overblot. you hate how you can’t even stay mad at him. you hate how even after figuring out jamil’s plot, you still don’t have it in you to yell at him. you can’t even look at him. you don’t want to look at him. 

you want to throw up when he apologizes to the scarabia students. you want to hurl your guts onto the floor when kalim seems unaffected as ever, forgiving jamil as always. you bite your tongue to stop the onslaught of desperate, heartbroken words that try to force their way out when jamil knocks on your door at the middle of night, when your roommates have already fallen asleep and kalim has already been put to bed. 

“i don’t deserve forgiveness,” he tells you, and he doesn’t. you know better than to let yourself fall back into jamil’s ploys again. so why, why does your heart yearn for his touch again? to bawl and sob into his shoulder and let him rub circles against your back again?  

“it is selfish of me to ask for us to be friends again, let alone lovers,” he says, his words strained and slow, like he’s choosing his words carefully. like he cares about hurting your feelings, when your heart has already been shattered and stomped into dust.  

“i took advantage of your trusting nature,” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, like he’s ashamed. but you’re not going to let him manipulate you again. you’re not. you’re not. 

he takes your hands in his, and you flinch. “i used you so that i could feel important, so that i could feel like somebody you could rely on. i’m sorry.”  

you can sense sincerity in his eyes when he looks at you, genuine remorse, but you try not to let it get to you. how can you trust him a second time after what he did to you?  

you want to tell him that you loved him. that you saw a future with him. that you wanted to be with him forever. that you felt happier when you were with him, that you want nothing more than to lay next to him again and just wrap your arms around him. 

and before you know it, tears well up in your eyes, and you curse yourself for being vulnerable now. you hate him having the upper hand on you again, for toying with your emotions like they’re nothing. you hate this. you hate him.  

you have so much to say to him, and yet nothing comes out. 

“you don’t have to forgive me,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to say anything at all. i just want you to know that i did love you. i still do. i did childish things to keep you with me, to keep you dependent on me so that you wouldn’t leave for kalim. i let jealousy override rationality.” 

he pauses, and tells you again, “i love you.” 

and you really can’t keep yourself from crying. you don’t want to let him see you like this, you don’t want to let him see you at all, but at the same time you’ve been wanting to hear those three words for so long. great sevens, you want to forgive him so badly so that you can simply be in his presence again. it would be so easy to just tell him that you forgive him. 

but you can’t. you won’t. you refuse to let yourself forgive him. you refuse to let yourself give him a second chance. he doesn’t deserve one. does he think he can just walk into your life again after he brainwashed you over and over, just to win a one-sided war? 

and so you wrench your hands away from his and walk away, never looking back. 

note: i don't like second chance romances. this was made out of pure spite because I THINK Y/N DESERVES BETTER THAN THESE PEOPLE WHO HAVE WRONGED THEM. STAND UP FOR YOURSELF Y/N.

[chaifootsteps]

I think there's an argument to be made in favor of showing the reality of what Angel deals with on the day to day, both on the gear he wears and the SA he faces from Val.

but these kinds of scenes can very easily be exploitative; used for cheap shock value & end up fetishizing that abuse by presenting it as titillating. it's long happened to female characters where the violence becomes an excuse to show them brutalized or with their clothes ripped off and given how often Angel is sexualized it can just as easily happen to him.

Addict managed to communicate a whole history of sexual abuse committed by Valentino with just a forced kiss and a hard cut to Angel having a breakdown in his room. The scene focused on Angel's emotional distress rather than the act itself, so it avoided objectifying him further and was still effective

this is part of a wider pattern already established by Helluva Boss, where abuse is treated in the least sensitive, most sledgehammer blunt and cartoony way possible.

going by HB, abusers are:

always obvious and easy to spot,

they're complete monsters devoid of any life or interests of their own,

they have no inner lives whatsoever because they only exist to hurt the victim (Stella stays around the house despite not liking Stolas, Crimson wants to force Moxxie into a gay marriage despite being homophobic - to the guy who put his son in prison in the first place!!) - they're inconsistent and unknowable,

they abuse their victim openly in front of others everyone goes along with and tacitly approves of it (Stella's friends happily laugh at her jokes disparaging a demon prince who could kill them all despite knowing he's in earshot)

they cannot be easily stopped even when they have far less power, either in magic or social standing, than the person they're abusing (Stolas and Stella, again)

they hang around long past when they should despite the cast having ample reason to proactively do something to stop them (everyone leaves Crimson alive despite killing all his minions, Stolas knows Stella has ordered a hit on him but probably still lets Octavia spend weekends with her??)

they are fundamentally Bad People. None of the 'good' characters can every be called out for being abusive, what they do is funny - because they are fundamentally Good People. It doesn't matter how many traits Stolas and Stella have in common, he is Good and she is Bad. It also doesn't matter that Stolas sexually coerced someone for a season and a half, neglected his daughter and abused his servants, and barely feels bad about his own infidelity. He is Good so anything he does can be excused. Same with Loona - beating people is bad, but it's OK for her to give her dad a black eye and beat his head in with a picture frame, because she's one of the Good Guys. Same with Blitzo demeaning Moxxie constantly in the workplace - it's funny when he calls Moxxie fat, it's abuse when Mammon does it to Fizz

Abusers are fundamentally Other from Us, and we never need to examine our own behaviors as long as we know we are fundamentally Good.

like how is any of this making the world a better place? or advancing the understanding of abuse? it's an embarassingly dated and in places actively harmful depiction of what abuse is or isn't (I don't even want to get into the bad takes I've seen surrounding Stol/tz and what coercion is or isn't, but you can probably add that to the list too)

if the Angel scenes are as brutal as they sound then the rating should be an 18. I don't entirely blame Viv for that, I know sometimes ratings boards have a weird habit of treating works that have LGBT content as somehow 'more adult' than movies with straight up rape and SA scenes in them (though HH is both, so idk how literal bondage gear didn't up the rating), but I hope against hope there's some kind of trigger warning for this somewhere, and it isn't just dropped on the viewer's lap in order to shock them further with the world's bluntest and most graphic animated scene of SA it can

This. All of this, every word.

[zabala0z]

Hi, my name is Zabala0z and welcome back to “Local crazy girl listens to TMA s4”. You know me, I’m ur host, yada yada

MAG 142: Scrutiny

It is so crazy hearing Jon from another persons POV. Like damn there goes his humanity bit by bit. It does make me wonder cause he never mentioned this little incident in the tapes. Did he purposely leave it out? Or does he not remember this.

“Not nice being interrogated” I see what you did there 💀 Martins being a bit more mean. I support it

MAG 143: Heart of Darkness

I love having a clear timeline. Y’know I was never super scared of The Dark, it’s actually at the bottom of my ranking of “Which TMA entities would scare me the most” but after hearing about the ritual in such extensive detail…yeah no I get it. Also, yay Natalie! Still feel horribly bad for her. I really don’t like cults. (Too bad she’ll die 💀)

THATS WHY HE KIDNAPPED THAT BOY. To use him as a vessel. Which is crazy. I’m assuming the black fog coming out of Maxwells mouth was to like possess the boy, Callum- but that makes me think. Yeah, even though it didn’t get on Callum, it hit the other guy. The policeman. The one whose eyes went milky and died. Or I think he died. But what I’m thinking is that the possession was successful just with the wrong guy.

It sounds like Manuela is like the last person of the Peoples Church of the Divine Host. Also I love how Jon went, “man that’s beautiful. Anyways-“ and then the dark sun was extinguished. Or lit up? I don’t know but it’s funny anyways. Bye Manuela, you scared me.

MAG 144: Decrypted

Ah. The Extinction. Nice to hear a statement about it. I’ve been wondering if any of the previous statements were related to it, I might try to skim some.

Also nooo Martin ☹️ stop being an asshole. Anyways, bit scared on who this man Peter Lukas is bringing from out of the country. Is it one of his relatives? Nathaniel Lukas?

MAG 145: Infectious Doubts

Gertrude Robinson has all my respect. Genuinely, what a badass. “Maybe you choose a bad God” GET HIS ASS ‼️‼️ Honestly Arthur Nolan is like the most tolerable servant of The Desolation. Then he started talking about his tenants and I started feeling sick again but y’know maybe in another universe, him and Gertrude got drinks. Not as friends, just as weird coworkers or something.

The Web is so interesting. I’m so curious about it because it’s never attempted a ritual, and there’s not much on it. I wanna know Annabelle’s deal actually. Come on girl, you wear thrifted clothes, you can’t be that bad.

It’s so interesting to hear about the entities. Like Gertrude said, they probably don’t think at all but they do so much yet so little. Bitches. Also this proves my theory that all landlords are evil.

So happy Jack will be safe. Bro needs it. Literally everyone hates him and he’s just a dude 💀 I don’t feel any sympathy for Eugene. Hope he suffers more

Okay that’s all I got! Long post, sorry about that. I have a model UN thing over the weekend so my posts are gonna be as slow as ever sorry. Expect more fanart though

[devilheartsblog]

Explaining my Valtor’s Circle AU :

Foreboding warning that this AU was quite literally fueled by shipping, which I mention in the last section. Also gonna tag @temoti @gamergirl-lumine @lonelybiscuits and @calissarowan

The premise is simple: After the events of season 4, Valtor returns, revives Duman and takes the wizards as his henchmen as well as having the Black Circle. The wizards were found in the Omega and from there, they decide to go back to Earth through the mirror in Tir Nan Og. Valtor takes over Tir Nan Og and turns all the Earth Fairies into changelings - except Morgana since she’s not there. Now him and the wizards use Tir Nan Og as their lair and help villains with their goals to cause chaos and anarchy.

How’s Valtor alive? Basically, since Bloom survived the Water Stars, so did he, only being reduced to a spark. He was able to reform his body but his demon form has been altered to be a mix of his human form and demon one due to him being much weaker, so he’s forced to have a smaller body (not like he isn’t used to one by now). Valtor ended up stumbling into the Omega where Duman was, in his bat form and frozen by Nabu. Once Valtor freed him, he asked where to find the others.

Valtor’s goal isn’t to become the most powerful, now he wants the world to crash and burn and for heroism to cease as a personal vengeance towards the Winx. He still steals powerful magic from other planets and holds them inside of the Black Circle. For extra safety, he entrusted the circle to Gantlos, his personal servant/assistant, and turned it into a collar for him with to wear with a bell on it.

Other than having Gantlos as his personal servant/assistant, Ogron is the group’s mage, meaning he analyzes magical artifacts/books/scrolls and is trained more in his offensive magic, while Duman and Anagan are both messengers, updating him on the villains he helps out to brew more chaos and anarchy.

Gantlos has a one-sided crush on Ogron, but Ogron is very rude and condescending to him. Anagan and Duman aren’t any better, either not caring or blaming Gantlos for it. Despite this, Gantlos hopes Ogron will recognize his feelings for him, and him glossing over Ogron’s behavior has something to do with Yllidith. However, after an argument they had which got heated, Valtor and Gantlos made a deal to have a secret affair so Gantlos can feel respected in the group. (Ik kinda cringe but like this AU was fueled by shipping Vantlos. But if you guys are still interested I have more lore outside of the affair stuff)

That’s everything about the basic premise of the AU. I’ll post more about it in the future tho I’ll also be busy with life stuff such as an art portfolio and getting a driving licencse. Otherwise, I’ll see you guys on the flipside!

[animusicnerd]

Every time I read another fantasy book with faeries, I die a little inside and not in a good way.

Anyway, let’s talk about some faery lore I found and probably will incorporate into my Lilia story out of spite and because I like it and wanna see it more.

Faeries can’t lie.

I’ve only seen like two authors do this so far (Holly Black and Emily Lloyd-Jones). A lot of other fantasies authors like SJM didn’t include it which I think is a real waste in potential for how high the stakes could get. They take everything in a literal sense and one sentence can easily kill someone or destroy their if they’re not careful. You literally have to think before you speak and if you’re not used to speaking that way, it’s all the more dangerous especially if you’re a human in the faerie realm. Whenever authors talk about the dangers of the faeries, it’s usually just the creatures in the woods and deals being made which downgrade the danger for me, in my opinion.

Having Lilia and Malleus not being able to lie would just be really fun especially where I’m going with in my story 💀. More stakes, more danger is just exciting and challenging to write because I have to be careful since majority of the cast of this story are faeries.

Iron burns faeries.

Personally, I like to think that Malleus and Lilia wear gloves most of the time because NRC just has a lot of iron things and they can’t be bothered to always check twice before touching something. It becomes tedious to them so wow gloves?? Easy fix for them.

Also since faeries are immortal and not much seems to hurt them, I just think it’s neat that iron would be the go-to for hurting them for information, killing them off and the like on top of magic use.

Iron also burns Maleficient in the live-action movies so…

Faery food is dangerous to humans.

I have like one human character (not reader) so it probably won’t be present as much but I just think it would be neat. Faery food is dangerous to humans because it puts them in a trance-like state. It makes humans want to stay with the fair folk forever as long as it’s fed at regular intervals from what I assume. The magic does wear off but again, if fed at regular intervals, humans could possibly stay in that mindless state forever.

Faeries are ruthless.

Seeing as they like to mess around with humans for fun (example: leading travelers off their paths, stealing items, etc.), I don’t think people should be surprised they are.

Malleus himself already seems to have a short-temper (almost roasted magicam monsters, got irritated when Rook asked why he appeared after Vil OB) and takes pleasure in seeing some of the other students suffer. He talks about wanting to see Azul cry and wanting to see Vil’s breakdown. I’m a little fuzzy on the details but yeah. Lilia also likes scaring people so there’s that. They’re both sadistic in their own ways whether you believe it or not.

Faeries are expected to be treated with respect and if not, you will get punished in some way. In a lot of cultures that includes stealing your children or making you sick in some way. I know that for Filipinos and Chamorros, you always have to say excuse me before you do your business in the jungle or else shit happens to you so yeah. Sometimes, it seems as if they’ll straight up torture you if you piss them off enough.

They also won’t hesitate to backstab their own it seems because from reading up on a lot of lore and Fae fantasy based stories, it sure as hell seems that way.

So basically, faeries are hella petty and would get you back a hundredfold if you piss them off.

Faeries have a hard time conceiving children.

To be honest, I’m not sure if this is true??? So to speak. I say this because I mostly see it in fantasy books, not through actual lore.

However, I do like it because it gives reason why faeries would take human lovers or their children (though from what I see, it’s mostly for entertainment or to get more servants?). Also, if they have a hard time conceiving children, it means that they value their young very much.

So you know, imagine being the only heir to the throne with no other family members in sight other than your grandmothers.

Just imagine the levels of protecting that would be taken to ensure your safety 🙂

Names have power.

This is for my own entertainment mostly. Having a faerie’s true name would allow you to control them so as always, be careful with wording.

Meaning don’t say, “My name is….”

Saying, “You may call me…” or giving faeries a nickname would stop you from being under their control if you haven’t already done that somehow.

However, I do headcanons that more powerful faeries aren’t subjected to that because of sheer will and pride in themselves so it probably won’t be present as much either lmao

That’s probably most of the general lore I’m including for now. I’m no expert so most of this is just things I’ve learned from fantasy series or my own research! Also, I doubt most of these are canon in Twisted Wonderland anyway. Except maybe the iron one since that is canon in the Maleficient movies but who knows.

[versegm]

Goredolf insists on meeting every new servant summoned to Chaldea.

First of all, he is literally the director; he wants people to at least have a vague idea of who he is and why he’s important here. Second of all, he almost had a heart attack the first time he walked into the cafeteria and ran into three different people wearing Koyanskaya’s face, so he wants the head’s up in case someone like Limbo or Rasputin gets summoned one day.

Unfortunately, that also means that sometimes, he gets in situations like this one.

“Hello!” The new servant makes a little wave of the hand. “I was told to come meet you after my summoning. Happy to meet you!”

They’re wearing white, loose clothes, with black streaks here and there. He is pretty sure it’s a mystic code of sorts. They have black gloves and thick boots, the kind one brings for mountain climbing.

What they do not have, however, is a head.

It’s not even a Hessian situation. There is no black hole, no void, no fog to hide the deed. The servant has legs, a stomach, a chest, a neck, and then suddenly it gets cut off part a certain point. Goredolf can see the bare flesh on the cut, the blood pumping beneath, and even a bit of spinal cord. Needless to say, it’s quite disturbing.  

“My eyes are up there, director.” The servant says with a laugh, pointing at the empty space above the that definitely does not have eyes. “You shouldn’t be staring too much. It’ll make you sick.”

Goredolf coughs into his fist. “Apologies. I did not mean to be rude. It is merely a surprising sight, as you can imagine.” Still, he can’t help sneaking another glance at that neck. “Did you die of beheading?”

“Bit of a personal question, don’t you think?” Goredolf hears a laugh at the end of their sentence, though, so they’re probably? Not offended? Where is their voice even coming from? Goredolf genuinely can’t tell. “Mostly though, I forgot what I looked like. Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure I’ll remember eventually.”

This is either a very obvious lie, or an incredibly sad fact, so Goredolf decides not to push it. “Anyways. I am Goredolf Musik, the director of Chaldea. As they probably already told you.” He adds hastily, remembering how the servant referred to him by title earlier.

The servant’s neck bobs forward. It takes Goredolf a second to realize this is meant to be a nod. “And I am Caster of Antartica.”

Ooh. It’s one of those. Circumstances being as they are, Goredolf often finds himself forgetting that knowing a servant’s true name is kind of A Big Deal. Rare are those who stick to anonymity- and even then, Goredolf is certain they’ve already disclosed their name to the Master specifically.

Goredolf’s gaze rakes the servant up and down once more. Caster of Antartica… Someone from an expedition to the poles, perhaps? A survivor of The Terror?

He’ll have to do some research later. For now, he extends a hand to them. “Glad to have you on board.”

“Likewise.” The servant says cheerfully. They grab Goredolf’s offered palm, shake it, and-

Their hand.

Their hand

Is

Trembling.

The clothes can be changed. The face can be hidden. The voice can be tweaked. But the hands. The hands. The hands. Trembling hands, scarred hands, damaged hands. Goredolf would recognize them anywhere. No glove on this earth, no matter how thick, would be enough to hide this tremble.

Goredolf pales. “You are-”

The servant suddenly pulls on his arm, and Goredolf tumbles right into their embrace, cut mid-sentence. They wrap both arms around him into a hug, rubbing circles against his back.

“My, Director. Don’t you know it’s rude to use the wrong name when someone introduce themself as something else?”

Their voice is friendly. Their hands are warm. Goredolf feels so, so deathly cold. “But- you-”

“Am merely a heroic spirit who heard a call for help, and decided to lend a hand. That is all there is to it.” They part from him with a tap on his shoulder. If they had a face, Goredolf just know they would be smiling, with that annoying fucking smile they always use when they are profoundly sad. “Now I believe my presence is upsetting you, so I will take my leave. Hopefully our paths will never cross again.”

They turn to leave, but Goredolf grabs onto the hem of their shirt. (He doesn’t recognize this uniform. Is this what they wore, prior to the lostbelts? Is it what they will wear, in the future?) “Wait! Does… does the Master know?”

The servant pauses, and Goredolf realizes how stupid of a question that was. Of course they do. The Master is many thing- lacking in common sense, way too friendly, garbage at magecraft- but if there’s one thing they have figured out, it’s servants. Of course they would know. Of course.

“… Don’t tell them.” The servant says eventually. “To say it out loud would be to speak it into existence. So long as no one says it, we can pretend. You can grant us that small mercy, can't you? Let us pretend?”

[chartmyfixations]

cris watches dr. who: s02e08 - "The Impossible Planet"

"I had that job once, I was a dinner lady. Not that I'm calling you a lady. Although I don't know, you might be... Do they pay you?"

Rose sees the “Welcome to hell"-graffiti and just has to laugh. She has grown so supremely unbothered with this kind of nonsense, it's hilarious

Blackspeak!

Squiddies!

I like that the Ood look terrifying, but are actually kind of sweet

Shakycammm

Danny from Ethics is kinda hot

I love how Rose is immediately triggered by people potentially being slaves, addresses the servants respectfully and instantly tries to unionize them. Good for her

I would love being a chief dramatist

This must be why the last episode was so lame: this one got all the budget. I love the Alien-esque set design of the space station, the claustrophobic hallways and the sucking black hole

TARDES are plants?! I could grow one? Hold on, I suddenly have a great idea for some merchandise...

Any one of you a talented synthetic bioflorist?

gdi, sexy Danny from Ethics is kind of a bigot

SPACE HORROR! Gotta be one of my favourite genres. I really like this episode, it's so much less predictable than the last one

Thomas Babington Macaulay poetry! Neat!

Trap doors? That's not a trap door. That's a seal. Usually used to seal things away. Do not open that thing!

waitwaitwait ABBADON? The literal Beast? We're dealing with THE FUCKING DEVIL?

7 out of 8 TARDES. I can't wait for the next episode, let's gOoOo!

[petitelepus]

For Inosuke and Tanjiro late birthday gift special!

The Kimetsu academy dealing with Wreck-Gar reader!

Summary: You're new! You're Romu, and you are there to investigate Kimetsu Academy! Or so that one guy told you to do, but this other guy is a funny guy! You also save a child and then almost drown, all on your first school day!

Warnings: Car Accident, Almost Drowning But Not

A/N: Reader Has A Name, Inosuke Hashibira, Tanjiro Kamado, Giyu Tomioka, Wreck-Gar Like Reader, Reader Has A Mom, Implied that Wreck-Gar is Reader's sire

Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke were in no way new to hectic things. Hell, every day with them was an adventure! But this day Zenitsu was absent due to the stomach flu, so it left Tanjiro with Inosuke.

Or so the young baker's son thought, but he couldn't find the wild friend of his. Tanjiro was confused since they were by this time usually talking and heading towards their first class of the day. The young man started to get worried that Inosuke had also gotten stomach flu, but a sudden yelling caught his attention.

"Stop right there!"

"Hold it!"

"Oi, stop!"

Tanjiro turned to look and to his confusion, he saw Uzui-sensei, Tomioka-sensei, and Shinazugawa-sensei run after Inosuke.

"Nyah ha ha ha!" The young man laughed as he ran, "Just try and stop me!"

"I- Inosuke!?" Tanjiro gasped as he saw his friend run towards him… With a young woman thrown over his shoulder?!

"I- Inosuke-!" The baker's son was saying when he was suddenly caught by his friend and thrown on his other shoulder, "Janpiro! Good, come with me!"

"Eeh!?"

Finally, the two of them managed to lose the teachers who were after them, or rather, after Inosuke, but they had also left the school grounds and arrived at the park by the river close to the school.

"Nyah ha ha! I told you we would lose them!" Inosuke laughed and Tanjiro looked at his friend, ready to scold him a little, but then he noticed the woman, you, looking at him with big pretty eyes and a small smile.

"O- oh, greetings! Are you perhaps a friend of Inosuke?" The young man asked and you brightened up, but as you were about to reply, Inosuke called, "She is my new servant!"

"Inosuke, you can't just grab a girl and make her your servant!" Tanjiro cried out, "If Zenitsu knew what you were up to, he would freak out…"

"Monitsu isn't here, is he?"

"Still…" The young man sighed as he turned to look at you and smiled, "Anyway, what is your name?"

"I'm Romu!" You cheered happily and saluted them, "And I'm new!"

"Ah, I see," Tanjiro nodded while Inosuke shouted, "She is my new servant!"

"I'm new!" You nodded and the kind young man looked at you, "Are you perhaps new to Kimetsu Academy?"

"I'm…" You hummed thoughtfully, "I'm new!"

"Ah, anyway…" Tanjiro sighed as he looked at you and smiled a little, "What were you doing that made the teachers chase after you?"

"I was snooping!"

"Snooping?" The young man repeated and you nodded, "Yes! I was trying to find some dirt about Director!"

"Eh!?" Tanjiro was shocked, "Who told you to do that?!"

"I-!" You were saying when you stilled and then frowned, "I… I can't remember! They had black hair though!"

"That could be literally anyone…" The young man sighed and Inosuke looked at his friend, "Wait, who is the Director?"

"Principal's husband, Inosuke."

"Who?"

Tanjiro sighed as he attempted to remind Inosuke that the director had handed them the winning tickets during the Halloween competition.

While Tanjiro and Inosuke talked you noticed a group of small kids playing nearby with a ball. You felt tempted to go and join the kids and you smiled as you rushed towards them… But then one kid threw the ball too high and too fast and a small girl went running after the ball, only to run straight to the road where a car was heading-!

Suddenly Tanjiro and Inosuke heard screeching, followed by a child's scream, and they both looked in shock to see how a car had stopped in the middle of the road, but what horrified them was the sight of you lying on the ground before the car.

"R- Romu!" Both young men shouted as they ran to you and the car's driver stepped outside of his vehicle, "Holy shit, she came out of nowhere!"

"Romu, are you alright!?" Tanjiro touched your shoulder and you glanced at him, opening your arms, showing them the small girl you had saved.

"I'm okay," You nodded as you looked at the girl crying in your arms, "Girl okay?"

"Let me see," The young man picked up the girl and looked all at her, and to his relief, she was perfectly fine, "She's okay! Just scared.

"Mimi!" Someone shouted and the students turned to see the girl's friends running at you guys, "Is Mimi okay?"

"Yes, she is thanks to Romu!" Inosuke exclaimed as he moved to help you up, but Tanjiro tried to stop his friend, "Inosuke, wait, we have to call an ambulance-!"

"No need!" You smiled as you bounced up like nothing had happened, "Car didn't hit Romu! Only nudged!"

"How-!" The two young men were shocked, they were pretty sure you had taken a hard hit, but you didn't look like it, and neither did the driver's car.

"Thank you for saving Mimi, big sis!" The kids gathered around you and you laughed with a huge happy smile, "I'm glad!"

"Ah, our ball!" One kid cried out and you all looked down to see their ball in the water below the bridge.

"Romu will get it!" You cheered and before anyone could stop you, you climbed off the fence and jumped into the water below… But when you didn't resurface, Tanjiro and Inosuke cried out after you in worry.

"Romu!"

"Shit, I can't see her!"

"Over there!" Finally, you surfaced, but you were only kicking and trashing your hands around instead of swimming smoothly. It didn't take a genius to realize that you weren't doing well and the boys were alarmed when they saw you go below the surface again.

"R- Romu!" Tanjiro and Inosuke called, putting their bags down and they were ready to jump after you, but suddenly, there was a blue blur that flashed next to them and the boys watched how their P.E. teacher Giyu Tomioka jumped after you.

"T- Tomioka-sensei!" Both young men called after their teacher and watched how he went below the surface… And finally, he resurfaced with you in his arms.

"Romu! Tomioka-sensei!"

You coughed as Tomioka held you above the surface and swam, taking you to the shore where Tanjiro and Inosuke rushed to you, alongside with the kids whose ball you had gone to retrieve.

As soon as you were on the safety of dry land, Tomioka let you go and you kept coughing, "Gah, Romu got water in her nose…"

"Thank God you're safe!" Tanjiro cried out and Inosuke copied his friend, "That was dangerous!"

"Big sis, are you okay?" The kids asked and you coughed one last time before smiling, "Ha ha, I forgot I don't know how to swim!"

How can someone forget something so important!?

"Are you alright?" Tomioka-sensei asked and you nodded, "Yes! Thank you for saving Romu!"

The teacher nodded, but before anyone could say or do anything else-!

"Romu!" Someone called and everyone turned to see a woman running at them. Tanjiro and Inosuke were stunned, she looked a lot like you.

"Mom!" You called as the woman dropped on her knees in front of you and grabbed your head to check you from every angle there was, "Oh my baby, are you okay?"

"Romu is fine!" You nodded with a big happy smile and your mother sighed, "You're gonna kill me one of these days, child!"

"Excuse me, but are you by any chance Romu's mother?" Tanjiro asked and your mother nodded as she looked at the two young men, "Yes, and you are?"

"Romu's new friends!" You cheered and Tanjiro and Inosuke smiled as they introduced themselves to your mother, "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh, what nice young men you are," Your mother smiled and then she turned to look at the P.E. teacher, "And thank you for finding my child."

"It was no trouble," The teacher nodded and Tanjiro looked at him, "Tomioka-sensei, how did you know to keep searching us?"

"I got a call from Romu's mother, telling us that she was a new student and had gone missing on her way to school," Giyu explained and your mother bowed to Tanjiro and Inosuke, "Thank you so much for keeping my daughter safe."

You blinked as you watched your mother bow so you copied her and bowed to the young men who had been there for you, "Thank you for helping!"

"Please raise your heads," Tanjiro smiled, "It was Tomioka-sensei who saved her from drowning."

"Thank you," Your mother bowed to Tomioka also before straightening her back and sighing.

"Romu is too kind-hearted and wants to help and befriend people wherever she goes…" Your mother shook her head, "Because of this, people tend to take advantage of her naive nature… Honestly, she takes too much after her father."

"My dad is special!" You laughed and your mother sighed, "I swear, this kid would lose her head if it wasn't attached to her, or give it away if someone told her to…"

"Please don't be mad…" The kids from earlier frowned, "She saved Mimi from being hit by a car!"

"Did you do that?" Your mother looked at you and you smiled, "I just did what dad would do!"

"Of course you would." Your mother shook her head and then looked at Tanjiro, "Thank you for helping her."

"Actually, it was Inosuke who helped her first," Tanjiro said and Inosuke smiled proudly, "Nyah ha ha! I've decided! The great Inosuke will look after Romu!"

"You don't need to-!" Your mother was saying, but you smiled as you got up and hugged Inosuke, "I like him! Inosuke is so kind to Romu!"

"Are you alright with this, sensei?" Your mother asked and Giyu nodded, "Don't worry, these are good boys. There isn't a bad bone in them."

"In that case…" Your mother nodded as she looked at all three of you, "Do you know what you are getting into?"

"We don't mind!" Both young men smiled, "I bet Romu would like my younger sister and our friend Zenitsu!"

"If you're sure…" Your mother sighed as she smiled, "Don't make them worry too much Romu!"

"I won't!" You smiled as you hugged Inosuke tighter.

"Now, if we are done here, we should go back to school to get Romu's uniform," Giyu said and you all cheered. You were smiling so happily, so excited for your new school life and friends.

[i-cant-sing]

Was feeling down so I talked to one of my uncle's from my mom's side and he and his wife, my fav aunt, were telling me to catch the next flight as soon as my exams end and it then reminded me how much of a spoiled princess I am when I am with them.

Like even when I was a child, I used to visit them a lot and they're both like rich rich, very much self made (like my uncle's a lawyer with his own firm, kind of like Harvey Specter but more smart and without any arrogance and ego issues, and my aunts works in advertising for this really luxurious chocolate company).

Anyways, I was saying that I am super spoiled by them because like mu uncle would send me an airplane ticket whenever I was missing them, and they'd buy me loads of gifts and I loves staying at their "not really a mansion" but still very big house, that had more servants and guards and house help than I could ever count for, and they ALL LOVED ME TOO OMG. Like fr, even one of their oldest drivers and house guards are so protective of me to this day, that they'd still interrogate whenever someone would come by their house (usually my cousin's from dad's side of the family so I didn't really mind😭) and would still rather drive me around the city all day and night than let me get an uber.

And like my uncle and aunty, even though they have a kid now (who I love to death and regularly remind that even though she might be the apply of their eyes, I am still their princess. Yes, I am 11 years older than her. No, I still don't let her win in games. Yes, she has the same sense of humor as me and is also into anime. And yes, we practically do look like twins.) They still very much spoil me rotten. From taking to super exclusive restaurants where even A list celebrities struggle to get in, to literally taking me on those shopping sprees and you see in those chick flicks.

And I'm not even gonna start om their whole ass collection of the coolest cars😭😭😭 I do feel like a celebrity with them black tinted windows and the way the driver would just slowly drive ahead or away whenever he thought some guys next to us were "trouble" or "bad crowd".

And you guys might say? Yeah your family loves you. Big deal. Family is supposed to love family. Yeah, well i got a brother as well and I ain't seen 1 single picture frame of him at their house????? Not to mention the whole ass file of pictures of me in their phones???

In their eyes I can do no wrong, and the only time they'd yelled at me was when I tried to pay for a plate of tacos at a food festival (no cause my heart cracked a bit when my aunt pulled my hand away and literally told me off "Snow, stop making a scene. You are NOT paying." And when i was like 7, i was playing outside my house and then suddenly my uncle picked me up and to the side and yelled at me "CAN YOU NOT HEAR THE CARS HONKING?! YOU ALMOST GOT RUN OVER!!!" and i only burst into tears because why would my fav person in the world yell at me??? In hindsight, that shouldve been a sign for them to have me and my attention span checked out😭😭)

Anyways, now that I think about it, they are kind of like those protective yanderes that I write about. Even the house help and my little cousin's nanny act like that😫

The way these exams have drained me this year, I for real am gonna go there again this summer because I deserve princess treatment only😭

With my brother's wedding coming up this year, my aunt was asking me about my love life and I told her I didn't have anyone rn, and that I probably will end with marrying whoever my parent's or my Muslim neighbours choose for me (no cause they're like family too and my friend's mom said that she can definitely set me up with someone who is worthy of me🥰🥰 and I though she was kidding but then she showed me like 8 guys and ngl... they were pretty. Like wattpad blue eyes with kohl, and tanned skin pretty) and they both kinda looked concerned at first and I assured them that whoever I would eventually marry would need to get your guys approval first and I'm not kidding when I say that my aunt had a sad smile om her face as she nodded and said of course, while my already stoic looking uncle looked even more upset before leaving to get himself a drink.

[moebiusx9]

So I just wanted to briefly yap about some of Dreadkuno's abilities involving Magecraft rules in the Nasuverse, along with a neat ability I've been brainstorming involving a potential magical Origin.

So they are a practitioner specializing in Black Magic/Witchcraft, utilizing their own blood as catalysts.

Magic Element(s) is also an easy one, Dreadkuno has high affinity for the Wind and especially the Water Element. These two combined allow her the use of Ice magic

I'm not quite sure about Thaumaturgical Ability yet

The fun part here comes in the theorycrafting for Dreadkuno's origin, so here's the gist of my thoughts:

The general idea is that Dreadkuno's origin is Nihility, something similar to Ryougi's Emptiness and Fujino's Nothingness, and my train of thought with this is to essentially turn Hakuno's general plain and unassuming appearance into a supernatural strength.

In essence, this origin turns Dreadkuno, and by proxy Hakunos in general into a living cognitohazard. Where their general existence is deemed ordinary and completely normal by other people, subconsciously altering their perception of Hakuno.

Another way to explain it is that Hakuno has a natural Presence Concealment even when not a servant themself, except instead of hiding their presence, it's more of a hiding in plain sight sort of deal. Funny enough, Passionlip can do something incredibly similar to this idea.

Another example would be SCP-1504, for anyone familiar with the SCP mythos, except remove the "impervious to damage" part.

With this in mind, it's the main factor allowing Dreadkuno is live under the alias of Shirano while still practicing witchcraft while being so close to Rin as a friend, it's because Rin quite literally cannot view Dreadkuno as anything but an oridinary person.

This isn't foolproof of course and the facade can be overcome if prepared, but what makes it so dangerous is that; how are you supposed to prepare for something when you cannot perceive it as a threat in the first place?

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Can you tell us about flow laying? Like what are some of the cards used and what do they mean, how it's decided there should do one and who should be invited to it?

Do I have more info about flow laying? Oh boy, do I have more info about flow laying. (I have hand drawn charts!)

(This will be all over the place and very long, but please, bear with me.)

First off, the name. Why is it called flow laying? Well, because the cards literally read the flow of power travelling through the world. That way they can give information about the past and present, while they can only make guesses about the future. (Though most of the time they're very good guesses.)

Each card represents a person, a being, a concept, or a seat of power. Like the Black Ships represent the concept of unsuspecting danger drawing closer.

To your last question: In the case of The Games We Play, Rhea - as the owner of the cards - made the decision to lay them. (The reason was the too long and too cold winter) There's a preliminary reading upon which Rhea decides which people need to be present. It's an art form to read the cards and interpret who represents who and who to invite.

There are three big categories the cards fall into:

Active cards, sleeping cards and dead cards.

Active cards are depicting those beings/people/concepts which are actively part of what you want to know. Sleeping cards depict those who don't/can't actively play a part, but are still a factor to be considered. And dead cards are remnants that are still important, but are quite literally dead.

The next biggest categories are the domains in which the cards take their places. There are two of them. The Greater Domains and the Lesser Domains. Which Domain (group of cards) falls into which is dependent on infulence and power, so there's a certain amount of fluidity. Though it is considered a Big Deal when a Domain changes place.

Under the Greater Domains fall The Hunt, The Astrals, The Night, The Day and The Wilds. The Lesser Domains contain The Fire, The Black and the Royal Domain. There's also a group of neutral cards that don't owe their allegiance to one Domain or another, so they make a group of their own.

How many cards there are exactly constantly changes and depends on what the person/people laying the cards want to know. (The Greater Domain of The Astrals is the most stable at 30 cards. The six Astrals and the 24 messengers.)

The Domains of The Hunt and The Wilds represent those belonging to the Wooden Throne, which represents Galahd. The card Wooden Throne itself is considered neutral, since it doesn't belong to one Domain or another.

The Astrals are pretty self explanatory, I think.

The Night and The Day represent the Sister Goddesses and their servants. (Etro, for example, it the Queen of The Night. She is a sleeping card, because she cannot actively intervene in anything going on. Eos is the Queen of The Day. She is a dead card for obvious reasons.)

The Black is the starscourge with Ardyn as the Herold. He switches from a sleeping card to an active one, and it makes people in the kow very nervous.

The Royal Domain represents the roayal houses of Lucis and Tenebrae. The King is the king of Lucis, the Queen the queen of Tenebrae. There's also cards called the Shield (Amicitia), and the General (currently Cor).

The Fire is an interesting one because no one is quite sure what that one is about. It slowly cropped up over the span of decades and is mostly made up of sleeping cards with the odd active one.

Neutral cards other than the Black Ships and the Wooden Throne would be the Gates (Death) and the Chained Heart (the Crystal/Light/healing).

[smallnico]

4, 5, and 8 durgetash asks >:3

LONG ASS ANSWER thank u for asking <3

https://www.tumblr.com/smallnico/756672403384434688

read more if you like pain with a side of petty god drama <3

4. Did Durge steal anything for themselves during the heist, or did they only take the crown?

the boring answer is yeah, because esper is a big fan of stealing and will do it with very little justification. i don't have any specific items in mind that they would have stolen, but if something looked valuable and reasonably not-cursed, they would've grabbed it and probably pawned it to helsik or one of gortash's buyers.

the exciting answer is that the hell heist is also the first and only time bhaalist esper stole a kiss from everyone's favourite babygurl. this requires a bit of explanation, but i am happy to provide. >:3

so, bhaal uses esper as an avatar. even when he's not actively superseding their consciousness and using their body as his own, he likes to watch through their eyes and make them feel aggression or agitation or lust or nausea or pleasure or pain, or whatever the situation calls for in order to manipulate them into doing what he wants. esper is fairly resistant to the smaller-scale manipulations or their physical emotions and responses thanks to the bard training from their childhood, but they consider these small signs as missives from the divine (because that's what they are, really) -- warnings to stop what they're doing and do what father says, or else he's going to make you black out and wake up with some fresh bullshit to answer for and deal with. esper fears this loss of control more than anything, so they compensate by being a zealous and committed servant, just so they can at least keep their mind. just so they can have Something.

bhaal is always living in esper's head rent free even when he's not there, panopticon style. this, plus the Gift of Guaranteed Murder (which i interpret for esper as a hyperawareness of signs of life in their surroundings and an inexorable pull toward snuffing them out, Especially when people touch them. esper is constantly bordering on overstimulated by the sound of breathing, heartbeats, body heat, etc., so when they're feeling particularly sick from touch starvation, that's when they get cozy with corpses) is the main cluster of reasons they never actually get with gortash, and actively repress their desire to do so. sure, they're extremely aware of the fact that gortash Wants them and they know the effect they have on him, but the only thing they do about it is manipulate his attentions to their gain. where it starts to get a bit cloudier and less manipulative for them both is on the level of friendship and emotional connection. both gortash and esper are deeply isolated and disconnected people, but through some cosmic tragic joke (hehe) they've ended up in the same fuckin. emotional netherzone. so they're both mutually the only person the other has ever felt they could actually relate to, and the very small vulnerable lonely parts of their souls cling to each other with everything they've got in spite of how much the rest of their selves want to pretend that isn't happening.

so, while they aren't really in love per se, esper needs gortash and gortash needs them, both on a deep, scared lizard brain level. but every time esper (who is by far the more emotionally intelligent person in their diad by virtue of literally being an empath and a psychic) tries to reach out for warmth, tries to satisfy even as much as the gnawing touch starvation they feel because they're terrified of losing what little control they have over their body, bhaal is there to shock them away from it with a cold sweat or a physical disgust, just to warn them away from latching onto anything that distracts them from their purpose -- to help him slaughter everything. so they have to ignore the lengths gortash will go to win their favour. they have to ignore the fact that he's willing to share power with them. they have to ignore the grand gestures, the convoluted schemes, the business dealings he amends to benefit their interests as well as his, the nonsense issues he contrives to find an excuse to spend time with them. the fact that he wants to possess them, but is willing to ignore that want and frame their interactions to pre-emptively satisfy the temple of bhaal's independance from his baneite affairs, because he values esper's company just a little bit more than his own greed. and esper can't Not be aware of this because they can't tune out the information their own magic is giving them.

so, what does the hell heist have to do with all of this? let me tell you. since raphael has the ability to silence the emperor And the voice of bhaal in act 3 when he forces you into a private conversation about the crown of karsus (something that also made esper go a little feral, because What The Fuck, You Can Just Do That, Don't Put It Back, cue a lot of panicking about taking that deal because they want nothing more than to be free from all that shit, but that's another point), and because there aren't really any durge moments in the house of hope (and the emperor is also out of reach down there), i thought it would be fun if bhaal just. couldn't possess them while they were in the hells.

so, imagine you're esper. imagine you're embarking on another heist with your bestie associate, normal as anything, as a part of his grand plan (which he made sure to get your god to sign off on) to steal the crown of karsus and turn the both of you into gods, him for power and you for freedom from your current master shit boss dad beloved dark lord. you have your doubts and don't trust him to not use the crown for himself and make only himself into a god capable of subjugating you, but you find these weird illithid plans you can use instead. it's a lot more complicated, but that's how gortash likes to do things, especially if it means getting to work with you for just a bit longer. he thinks this whole tadpole thing could also help finally make his steel watchers, this project he's been labouring on for years, work. his hands are on the crown, they're on ultimate power, and he's showing you these plans instead, proposing an alternative that will Ensure that you can both conquer the world -- together by necessity -- and leverage your followers against the existing pantheon into granting you mutual godhood. no faith required.

and you realize in that moment that you love him for this. and that the immediate whiplash feeling of violence and hatred and disgust you're used to feeling when you love... isn't there. you can hear his heart hammering in his chest and smell the fear and adrenaline in his system, sense the presence of memories he's pushing down. you know the world around him is soup to him right now. he's suggestible, at this point trying to win you over in the only ways he knows how out of habit, because he's wanted to do it for so long it's second nature even when he's so agitated, when you know that he knows that you know that he knows it'll never work. you think about him. you think about what he's promising you, what he's making inevitable for you by locking the both of you into a gamble that could be a suicide pact, but will ultimately free you, one way or the other, and ensure that you aren't alone while you're waiting for how it turns out, because he'll be there with you. your freedom, and finally, an end to your gnawing, all-consuming loneliness.

and you can't hear your god. and your god can't hear you.

so you grab the man by the shoulders and steal a moment in this tense situation to kiss the fuck out of him. everything you have time for. you justify this uncontrolled, impulsive, opportunistic act of pure fucking id to yourself in hindsight with the usual. you were manipulating him into keeping his promise, obviously. he was too gobsmacked and overwhelmed to absorb what you said to him, but you remember. you were in control. something about making sure he kept his promise. you remember, don't you? you didn't do it for you. you didn't do it to spite your god, or to resist. you would never do something like that.

you remember what you said, right?

anyway, that's what esper stole from the mephistar vault. boy oh boy did they ever have to pay for it though, lol. they started spiralling after, eventually culminating in the prayer for forgiveness and the whole bullshit with orin.

5. What did pre tadpole Durge think of Jergal? Was that mindset in any way influenced by Bhaal?

i think esper didnt consider jergal much, other than as a predecessor to bhaal and an ancient minor deity they had no need to contend with. their opinions were very much influenced by bhaal, and bhaal had no particular reason to suspect jergal of fucking around.

the gods bhaalist esper really had beef with were bane and cyric. bane for the whole you-oppressed-my-god-and-killed-a-bunch-of-bhaalists situation (that manifests as an ideological opposition to doing anything gortash tells them to, among other things) and cyric for the whole bitchass-usurper-who-killed-my-god-and-stole-his-job situation. part of the reason esper hates the zhentarim on principle and sides with the guild during any territorial skirmishes in the area is because they do hold a grudge against the zhents for their not-so-secret cyricist history. one of these days i'll write about that particular death cult political drama, since it's part of my headcanon surrounding the hall of wonders heist -- lots of cyric temples were built out of old bhaalist temples and kept bhaalist relics for show, so it seemed to me like a faction that would be likely to, for example, drag a bunch of stolen bhaalist relics into the city for people to gawp at.

given esper's beef with cyric, i believe the thinking is that while jergal served as his seneschal, he was also working to subvert him, so esper doesn't have a problem with jergal. in a way, esper also serves as a seneschal for bhaal, so if nothing else, they understand that you don't often get to choose your god, and you gotta do what you gotta do to live your life with dignity and take pride in what you do. since jergal wasn't (at least to their knowledge at the time) trying to subvert bhaal, esper didn't count him as an enemy.

post-tadpole (and post-endgame) esper effectively has no choice but to become a jergal stan thanks to withers, but even pre-tadpole their personal philosophy (shackled to, but apart from bhaal) aligned harder with jergal than most gods. they were (and still are) a fatalistic believer that all living things must die, but contrary to bhaal's philosophy, esper likes to look at the bigger picture of their victims' whole lives and the impacts their deaths will have -- when they have the luxury of choice, esper is picky about who they kill, preferring deaths that will create a rippling narrative of fear of murder/bhaal or ones that help to prune away undesired developments in the world, and they get their gay little psychic hands all over the vibes of everyone they meet regardless of their intent to kill them, so it becomes difficult Not to remember those narratives. esper always has a few good stories to tell at the feast of the moon.

8. What were their last words towards each other? And who really got the final say? (Same as prev, be as vague as you'd like)

split this one into two, since there are different answers depending on when you consider their 'last' conversation was!

last words pre-orin:

i don't have any specific words in mind, but i feel like their last conversation before orin's surprise attack was about as normal as any conversation could be after the mess during the hell heist. esper was called to moonrise towers to help ketheric with some strategy he'd been planning to entrap and recruit drow soldiers to appoint as squadron leaders, since the swathes of goblins and reanimated corpses they'd collected wasn't very conducive to organization, and ketheric is a great general, but he's not as feverish a micromanager as esper or gortash are, and the absolute's army needs competent leaders for him to delegate to. esper, being raised as drow, had some insights that could be used to hook good candidates, so they were off to make sure it got done right while gortash and orin (probably; she's a shapeshifter, she's probably still here, right?) kept things under control in baldur's gate.

so esper headed to moonrise, where they provided ketheric with their advice, briefly indulged in a drink and an only sort-of-disguised vent session chastising ketheric for only serving his god because myrkul was essentially holding his love for his daughter hostage. the kind of empty judgement that they pass constantly, but their heart isn't really in, because they're mostly just envious that ketheric's god was willing to let him have Something. cue esper going to the basement and getting vibe checked by orin on bhaal's behalf for being an ingrate.

but the last conversation between esper and gortash was purely business. what are you talking about? nothing happened in the hells, no, of course not. no question that gortash had the last word there, because he always does, he's petty like that. something inane and amiable like "i'll have a list of targets by tomorrow, but i'll make sure the temple doesn't kill them all before you get back," or like, "walk in death, my dear urge, or whatever it is your lot says", or "close the door behind you".

last words pre-gortash dying:

"i think i always liked you, too. but this is how it has to be."

... or some more characteristic equivalent based on that line. gortash learned at the very last minute that esper was right -- they did always like him, because they had the ability to curbstomp him extremely disrespectfully any time they wanted, and they worked very, very hard to avoid doing so. he realizes that esper did care about him, very much, because he was now looking at an esper that didn't care what happened to him. he sees them taking their swords to someone else while karlach is killing him -- annoying and embarrassing, by the way, to be killed by an employee of all things --he sees them let someone else take the kill, breaking their promise that he would die by their hand.

but there's some peace in that. they got out. they said they got out. his empire is crumbling around him, and the only person he's ever loved is abandoning him for a second time, and he hates them, he hates them, he hates them. he'll drag them kicking and screaming into the hells with him if bane ever lets him. but that same small part of him that they had thought died when he lost them for the first time, he can feel it again.

and it's grinning from ear to ear. because the plan worked. he's doomed, but he was right, and it worked. and his last living thought is on getting revenge, just like it's always been.

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 13)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), public sex, I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

Nasimiyu didn’t know how to feel other than smug. Word of Seokjin’s fight with Namjoon shot through the palace like the smell of fish. Nasimiyu couldn’t believe it at first. Seokjin? Throwing fists?! She saw Namjoon’s black eye on her way to the private dining room for supper –which Namjoon chose to take in his room– and Seokjin’s busted lip but still couldn’t believe it until King Dong-gun himself sank into his chair and laughed,

“Well. Who’d have thought this son would be brawling in the courtyard, eh?”

Beside him, Lady Zselyke turned up her nose and teased, with a trace of a smile, “I suppose he had to inherit something from you.”

“Besides my dashing good looks?”

“He looks more like his mother,” General Dong-suk mumbled around a forkful of food already buried in his mouth. Nasimiyu glanced at the man and quickly away, afraid of making eye contact. General Dong-suk’s reputation preceded him. The King’s younger brother was notorious for winning wars, no matter the cost, and while Nasimiyu didn’t know specifics, she did know her father thought he was both terrifying and genius. We’ll want him on our side, Prince Hamisi had said. Another reason we need to do this the right way. The last thing we need are losses along the border during the transition of power. Dong-suk is undefeatable. 

High praise from her father, who himself bragged a great deal about having the most peaceful principality in Marvono so that they had no need of war to begin with. Yet he clearly admired Dong-suk. She’d expected a scarred, muscular old soldier based on the things she’d heard and instead found herself breaking bread with a razor sharp man, crisp and clean and unemotional. It felt like he sucked the warmth from the air just by his presence. He was far, far more frightening in person than any of the people she’d met in those tavern backrooms could possibly understand. Hatred for this man had streamed from them like blood and sweat, stories of his depraved acts, his prolific use of torture to get answers, his scorched earth tactics for any boarder villages “harboring” soldiers from the other side –whether they knew it or not. Such stories had seemed impossible to pin onto one man’s shoulders, impossible to believe without some bigger outcry than a couple dozen angry youths shouting about it in Marvonese taverns, far from those borders and battles and truth.

And yet, she was glad Seokjin sat in between them. 

Nasimiyu supposed General Dong-suk had meant that as an insult to his brother, though it was a compliment to Seokjin and the beauty of his mother captured in portraits around the palace. Dong-gun laughed like he expected nothing differently from his brother and Seokjin buried his face in his food. 

Lady Zselyke smoothed it over with, “That he does, and there’s no harm in being good in the face and with an uppercut, eh?”

“What do you know about fighting, Aunt?” Seokjin asked her. Apparently this was also a joke that Nasimiyu didn’t get because Zselyke laughed fondly and waved her napkin at him.

“Oh stop. You know, I used to be right there to the side any time your father brawled, ready to clean up the mess afterwards.”

“You weren’t very good at it,” Dong-gun chuckled. “I had to learn my own way out of messes.”

“How can you say that?! I smoothed things over with your father so many times.”

“Ah, yes, with him, I suppose he was fond of you, he’d wait until you were out of sight to whip my backside so you wouldn’t be distressed.”

Nasimiyu couldn’t believe they were laughing about this, but they did. Except for General Dong-suk, who ate tidily but quickly, as if it had been weeks since his last feed but he had somewhere to be. 

“Sometimes it takes a firm hand,” he said, chasing a sip of wine. “Perhaps you needed firmer hands. Your boys did.”

Nasimiyu couldn’t help the stare out of the corner of her eye, curious how the king would take to such a jab at his parenting methods.

King Dong-gun’s voice seemed steelier as he countered, “I raised a fine soldier, didn’t I? And Seokjin will make a… king.”

“Thank you, father, I appreciate your bold, unflagging support,” Seokjin quipped and Nasimiyu wanted to kick him beneath the table but withheld. Did he really not know the right time to make a joke and the right time to abstain? No jokes could exist around that General uncle of his. 

But maybe he didn’t intend it as a joke; he didn’t have his usual bold smile as he lifted his own glass of wine. He kept blinking, like there was something in his eye. As soon as his wine glass was done, he shoveled food into his cheek like he, too, had somewhere to be. He didn’t look like a valiant champion, though earlier he’d strutted into dinner like he’d just been crowned one, and bowed low to Nasimiyu after she placed her hand in his. 

Never in a million years had Nasimiyu expected Seokjin to hear a complaint from her and go right to resolve the problem himself. A fist to Namjoon’s face! Damn, she wished she could have seen it. 

“A fine king such as yourself,” General Dong-suk said in a sharp voice that Nasimiyu saw made King Dong-gun stiffen. “He’ll go around throwing balls and punishing fops for fucking maids? Who cares? Take care of the problem or get over it, it’s a trivial matter and not something you should be brawling like a fresh pup about.”

Seokjin looked startled and rushed to clarify, “I assure you, the cause of the exchange is well in hand–”

“Maybe they’re both fucking the maid,” King Dong-gun suggested with a laugh, then quickly added, “My apologies, Princess. I forgot you were here, you’re so quiet tonight.”

“Just taking it all in,” she mumbled, but it was missed beneath Lady Zselyke insisting, “She has a sense of humor about it too, Dong-gun, don’t worry about her.” Nasimiyu saw the quickest flicker of Zselyke’s eyes in her direction but didn’t understand the meaning of it. And she most certainly would not have a sense of humor about Seokjin fucking any maid, particularly hers.

“I am confident he is not,” she said coolly, and smirked at Seokjin in the hopes people would see it and murmur. Seokjin gave her the smallest smile but it was like something pressed heavily down on him. She wished he would take more pride in his own fight!

“Besides, I think it’s admirable,” Lady Zselyke rushed on to cover Nasimiyu’s response. “When there’s an issue, you go right to solve it. No skulking around waiting for someone else to handle it or hope it will handle itself. It’s the proper way to deal with things, isn’t that right, Dong-suk?”

Honestly Nasimiyu couldn’t believe Zselyke had addressed him at all, much less so casually. She seemed to puff herself up further as Dong-suk looked at her, wine glass steady in his hand. Nasimiyu couldn’t decide whether it was stupid or admirable.

“I don’t believe you wish to hear how I deal with things,” Dong-suk said, looking away from Lady Zselyke like she no longer interested him in the least. He gestured brusquely to a servant to clear his plate away. 

King Dong-gun chuckled, “Here to tell me how you’d run things differently if it was your ass in my seat?”

“I don’t need to tell you,” General Dong-suk said, and didn’t look at his elder brother either. “There’s no point in wasting our breath, I don’t want your chair.”

“Yes, good, it’s molded to my ass.”

“And his will fit?” Dong-suk asked with a gesture towards Seokjin. Flippant. Unimpressed. With one sentence Nasimiyu understood precisely what uncle thought of nephew. Not that she had expected anything different. 

“I’ve already started my special diet to gain the weight,” Seokjin mumbled under his breath. Nasimiyu had never seen him so… wilted. He couldn’t even endorse his own jokes. Everyone else at the table ignored him.

Lady Zselyke sniffed, nose in the air, “King Dong-gun has done a fine job molding Seokjin into a prince who will rule well when the day comes, but that day will not be for a very, very long time.”

“You think so?” General Dong-suk asked evenly. Nasimiyu bit her lip in an effort not to react. She kept her head down, shocked to hear the brother of the king so brazenly suggest, “There are a dozen plots to take his head today alone and you think he will stay king for a very long time?”

“Dong-suk,” Zselyke scolded, her voice soft.

King Dong-gun rolled his eyes and laughed, “You exaggerate, little brother. Maybe four, maximum. I am not nearly terrible enough to warrant that many plots.” Something harder came into his voice as he added, “Not as terrible as you would have me be.”

“‘Terrible’ is a clever choice of word, old brother,” Dong-suk returned. “It can mean many things. To be feared, respected. That would keep you alive.”

“He’s a good king,” Zselyke argued. “The people–”

“The people,” Dong-suk laughed, cold and empty sounding. “The only good king to the people is a dead one. There is no wisdom in trying to be a good king for the people, they will always want something other than what you provide, and should they get it anyway, they will immediately want something else instead.”

“And yet here I sit,” Dong-gun said, and lifted his wine glass for a sip. 

Nasimiyu startled as something brushed her leg –Seokjin’s hand. He gave a look, but she wasn’t sure what he was trying to convey to her.

“Ignoring my warnings.”

“I heed your warnings,” Dong-gun argued. “The legitimate ones. We have the Destin rebellions under control–”

“It’s not Destin you should be worried about, they’re nothing, a ragtag band of nobodies. Embarrassments, every one of them.” 

“The whole principality?” Seokjin mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling, like he thought at least his footman or bodyguards would laugh, but he’d said it so quietly, probably they couldn’t even hear him. Seokjin was afraid, that seemed obvious, and Nasimiyu –despite feeling the same– found herself disappointed by him. This was his own uncle. Surely you should at least be brave against your own family? If you weren’t, who else could be?

His uncle only spared a disgusted flicker of his gaze and forged ahead, “It’s not Destin you should concern yourself with. Cut them off with one clean slice, it can be done in an hour.”

“And how many dead would it be?” King Dong-gun asked with a shake of his head.

“Numbers do not matter at a time like this. What number is order worth?”

“How many lives is my reign worth, do you mean?” King Dong-gun clarified, a nuance of language that clearly did not amuse Dong-suk. But Nasimiyu found herself briefly fascinated… was Dong-gun saying he would not take extreme measures to curb a rebellion because he did not consider the loss of lives worth it for a threat against his life? Was that really what he was saying? Nasimiyu was sure she must be misunderstanding, filling in blanks since the two of them argued about political things she only knew crumbs about. 

“I’d say at least five,” Seokjin said. And, further baffling to Nasimiyu, King Dong-gun burst into laughter.

“Come, son, at least ten!”

“Let’s call it seven.”

“Idiots,” Dong-suk sighed, letting his eyes close. “Every one of you, idiots.”

“And it’s already been two,” King Dong-gun said, smiling at his brother. But then the chuckle died away as his words caught up to everyone, maybe even himself. The smile remained but it looked more threatening than amused now. “I’ve lost a wife and a son, brother. You would have my other son?”

“I don’t want Seokjin on the lines,” Dong-suk scoffed. “I’ve seen him brawl. I’d take his fucking valet before I’d take him anywhere.”

“That is what it would cost me to give you the war you ask for. How could he face his people if he did not go to fight, as his brother did? And yet…”

Nasimiyu’s eyebrows raised. She glanced at Seokjin, her only near-ally in this, curious if he knew what war was being asked for. This was the first she had heard of war as a current event other than the unrest in Destin and maybe an occasional skirmish along the border in Therepin. 

“I don’t ask for a war but the means to stop one before it begins.”

Nasimiyu felt herself getting twisted up. It certainly sounded better to stop a war before it began. The ‘Therepin Border Skirmishes’ had happened during her lifetime but she had been young and shielded, raised on the far side of Yeonhalbi from the battles. Marvono sent soldiers but not too many, not anyone within reach of her. 

“You grow idle, brother,” King Dong-gun said, his knife scraping noisily against his plate as he cut his steak. “Without war, you have no purpose, is that how you feel? I can put you to other tasks.”

“Destin? You won’t let me do what needs to be done.”

“I’m handling Destin.”

“I am your general, I should handle it all.”

“A rather bothersome one,” King Dong-gun scoffed. “I can’t even eat the steak I requested just for you without you nipping my ear off about war this, death threat that. Your job is to end wars, not monger them. Get a wife or a hobby and stop trying to kindle unrest. If war erupts along the border–”

“I will have warned you!” General Dong-suk shouted and slammed his fist on the table. It was a sudden and explosive outburst after he’d maintained such tight composure. Steady. Menacing by subtlety, not volume. Now Nasimiyu suspected he could do both. “If you continue to ignore the threats along the border… Your people there suffer. Unrest grows. You grow fat and lazy in your capital by the sea and the people will come for you.”

“Find another way. That is my final word.”

“It may very well be, Dong-gun.” Dong-suk rose from the table and gave the king and Lady Zselyke both a withering stare, as if she’d had much to say in it. His gaze slid blindly over Seokjin, who clearly had no merit for Dong-suk. Nasimiyu leaned back, feeling the briefest moment of Dong-suk’s eyes on her –it couldn’t have been but a second. 

Perhaps Dong-gun saw it too, or maybe he had decided to try and drive the dismissal home further; he laughed, “Ah, did you meet Prince Hamisi on your way here, by chance? He’s gone south, I believe. I’ll be curious to hear what he reports about the people there and whether things are really as bad as you say. But I’m afraid you won’t find support for your war from him. He’ll laugh in your face before he sends soldiers from Marvono to die simply because you’re bored.”

“I’ve never met the man in my life and if he sells his daughter to this idiot family, I don’t care to.” 

The private dining room was perfectly silent for a solid minute in the wake of his departure. For that reason, Nasimiyu thought it a ridiculously dramatic exit –but he had totally cleared his plate in remarkable speed, so maybe his only purpose at dinner had been to quickly eat and try one more time to continue this argument he and his brother had clearly broken off earlier. Nasimiyu regretted not knowing more. If the borders were full of unrest again and it posed a threat to the crown, that would be her problem to solve someday, possibly someday soon. 

But it was also confusing because… well, her father hadn’t mentioned there was the risk of war along the border, nor rebellion from Yeonhalbian people. There was that remark her father had made, which Nasimiyu was proud of herself to recollect now, that he felt King Dong-gun’s ways of doing things led to the borders needing protecting, of also that he thought many people wanted King Dong-gun dead. Was that what General Dong-suk had meant…? It was annoying, feeling like she was short a few cards to understand what they were talking about. It further annoyed her that Lord Namjoon probably could have filled her in on everything and given her a reliable account of whether General Dong-suk really was as out of hand as rumor had it. 

She could ask Seokjin, of course. Of course. She wanted to laugh at the idea. Seokjin had his face down in his bowl of soup and couldn’t have looked less interested in discussing politics. She never got the sense he knew much about anything, despite getting to sit in council. He just took it for granted to know what they were talking about, even though the outcome of a dinner argument like this could change the future of Yeonhalbi. Even his own future! If war did happen, Seokjin would either have to go fight or rule as his father went to die instead. Dong-gun didn’t seem like the self-sacrificing type…

For a moment, war loomed up as a real thing, more than it had ever felt before. She’d thought of war as undesirable but sometimes a necessity, but never stopped to consider who made the call about whether it was necessary or not. Probably you decided which way –war or no war– would lead to fewer deaths and better long-term outcomes… but for whom? For the monarch wanting to maintain their crown? Or the people who lived in the warzone? 

War hadn’t touched Marvono since the uniting of Yeonhalbi. The nation to the north was quiet, peaceful, their relationship good with Marvono and the borders never contested –partially because they were a relation. Prince Hamisi had no sons to send to the Therepin Border Wars, even if he’d wanted to, and daughters were never expected to be soldiers. War didn’t hurt people like them. 

But Nasimiyu would have her own children someday, likely sons and daughters both. It would be honorable for her sons to serve in a necessary war, but how necessary would a war have to be for her to be willing to send them? 

Seokjin leaned close to her and said in what seemed to have been intended as a whisper, “Sorry about that. Family… you know how it is. I almost wish we’d go back to talking about my fight…”

“My family doesn’t have quite the… characters yours does,” Nasimiyu whispered back, aware that at least Lady Zselyke was listening closely to her. King Dong-gun had called his footman over and was telling him about some meeting he wanted to have the next day now, and also to let him know if Dong-suk left the palace at any point.

“No? No heated debates at dinner about who wants to kill you or what wars to wage?”

“No, never,” Nasimiyu said, and didn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice, though she knew she’d sounded critical a moment ago. She wanted to sound critical, because this had all seemed so inappropriate, but truthfully, she wanted in. She wanted to know. She wanted to be one of the ones having to make even those difficult decisions about what was right and how to help people best. She would have loved if her father included her in those debates around the dinner table –war, ethics, philosophy, danger, whatever! If he had, maybe she wouldn’t have felt compelled to seek it out herself –and she never would have met Dulce. 

“Ah, your father loves you more than mine,” Seokjin said loudly. “He wanted to protect you from it all.”

King Dong-gun shook his head and argued, “Why do you think we ate privately in here tonight? Sometimes you have to let the stink air out for a few days. I would have done you a disservice to hide the shit of ruling from you. Someday you’ll be the one fanning the stench out.”

“Not for a long time!” Lady Zselyke bubbled over, and downed the remnants of her wine. “Honestly, all this talk of death and war and–”

“There there, Zelly, don’t you worry about it. Suk and I will make up in a few hours. He knows I’ll never give my permission and I know that he manages to get it done another way and everything will be fine.”

“But if the borders really are unquiet–”

“They’re not. Ask Namjoon, wherever he’s sulked off to hide. Why don’t you ask him, Seokjin? While the two of you fix whatever this was?”

Seokjin’s brow lowered as he said, “That… isn’t likely to happen.”

“You don’t have to like him, but you do have to find a way to work with the people in position to best help you.”

“I don’t need his help. Not someone like him.”

“You’ll have to let go of this idea of liking people,” King Dong-gun continued. “It leaves you worried about whether people like you, and once you care about that, you’re damned.”

Seokjin gave his father a wide grin and promised, “Well I’m safe there, I’ve never worried about that.”

“Good. Because the rest of your life is going to be spent working with people you hate, and arguing with people you care for. You think you’re always going to see eye to eye with me? Or your advisors? Even your wife… her father… it’s harder to hold your ground with people like that but you have to.”

Seokjin looked stunned. Nasimiyu wasn’t sure why. At first Seokjin struggled to find the words, before he pressed, “You think I should stand my ground? You believe I’ll have the right way of things–”

“Well you’d better figure it out eventually,” King Dong-gun laughed and Seokjin visibly deflated. “Otherwise the people around you will figure it out for you, but no one except the king can ever see all there is to see. It’s your uncle’s job to ask for what he wants to get the job done in the easiest way, and it’s my job to tell him no, to get it done in the best way. Get good at telling people no, Seokjin. Zselyke, let’s go for a walk, I need to get some unkind words about my brother out of my mind.”

In only a moment, Nasimiyu and Seokjin were alone in the dining room, silent and still though neither touched another bite. 

Eventually Seokjin snorted, “Won’t it be a sight to see if my uncle has to answer to me someday? I know you’re thinking it. How in the world am I going to hold someone like that in line?” He shook his head and for a moment looked so sincere and open and casual –except this time instead of putting Nasimiyu off, she felt like he’d reached a hand out to her. Vulnerable, but in a good way. Like he’d gestured to his uncle and said this is a problem we’ll have to address as king and queen someday, how do you think we should do it?

“He’ll have to listen to us, or he’ll lose his head,” she suggested.

“Us,” Seokjin insisted and his grin grew. Nasimiyu’s eyes narrowed. But instead of saying exactly the wrong thing, which is what she expected, he nodded, “Yes, all right. You’ve managed your father, haven’t you? Is he anything like that? You’ll be an asset on the throne.”

Nasimiyu was not sure she had managed her father but insisted, “Of course I have. It’s wise of you to… to recognize that. That I would be an asset, I mean.” She paused. “Do you mean that?”

“That you would be an asset?”

“That you would have me by your side. In council or ruling or dealing with… problems,” she clarified. 

“The king always takes his queen into confidence–”

“I mean openly. Not a listening ear as you dress for bed but a partner in–”

Seokjin laughed and Nasimiyu bristled, but once again his words surprised her as he insisted, “I get the feeling I couldn’t keep you out if I tried, but I wouldn’t pick that fight. If you show a head for politics, at least that would make one of us.”

“Even though it would be breaking with tradition,” she said, standing because he did, trying to sound calm as a surge of energy bubbled in her chest. “If I did more than just plan balls and suppers and–”

“I hope life with me can be good for you, Nasimiyu. If you’d rather do this or that, it’s yours. I don’t care if you don’t want to plan balls. Zselyke can keep doing that since she likes it so much. If you want to be involved with council and hold court, we do that together, or you take it over, I sure don’t mind. Maybe we’ll actually be good at it all together. Yes, Jimin, I’m going in for the night, can you tell Drin I’m not sparring after all? I think I got my workout in today.”

“What are you going to do about Namjoon?” Nasimiyu asked before he could disappear.

Seokjin hesitated, then asked, “Well what do you think I should do? Did I do enough? My father thinks I need to just learn to work with him, but…” He sighed deeply and looked away. “A guy like that…”

“May be of use to us,” Nasimiyu decided. “I think you’ve done enough for now. Hopefully he will behave himself, and if not, we’ll send him away. Besides, he’d probably take Mindeulle with him but I’d like to keep her here.”

“I’m glad you’ve made friends with her.”

“I’m glad you took my complaint about Namjoon seriously,” she said, feeling benevolent. “Thank you, Seokjin.” He gave her an indecipherable look, chased away quickly by his typical smile.

“Always, my princess.”

Nasimiyu’s spirits lifted as she returned to her room, yanked back and forth between the fight for her sake and the appearance of this frightening possibly-war-criminal uncle, but then Seokjin’s easy acceptance of her value in ruling this country. It had never occurred to her that Seokjin might just… let her. Sure, it was possible he’d still be in the way. But… maybe not. There might be value in having the “true King” in the wings as she ruled, to keep the loyalty of those who actually did support the Kim line. Namjoon certainly wasn’t going to have that honor now. And while Nasimiyu wasn’t sure exactly how many children she planned on having –because honestly the whole ordeal sounded rather unpleasant and also frustrating because why couldn’t a queen rule on their own rather than worrying about heirs to take it from her– maybe she would enjoy having daughters. She’d never have to send them to war, and no one would expect her to turn the crown over to them simply because a male ruler took priority over a female one. And Seokjin was handsome; probably he would lend himself well to beautiful daughters. He might be a loving father and could see after their care while Nasimiyu ruled. And he had fought his cousin at the drop of a word from her, and he had been very good in bed.

For a moment she thought to invite him back into it. Why not? He’d done well and deserved a reward and so did she. But he had already gone, and she didn’t feel like chasing him down. She would just send for Dulce instead and let her earn her affection back.

Besides, she shouldn’t totally lose her head about Seokjin. She wasn’t sure she wanted to change their plans and keep him around… but maybe they ought to think more about this before they did anything so final as kill him. At least not yet… 

Although Nasimiyu recognized –and perhaps this made the potential change of plans both more and less appealing– her father would not abide by it. Could she tell her father no any more than Seokjin could his uncle?

Dulce had volunteered for the laundry that afternoon and stayed hidden when Nasimiyu sent for her after dinner –easy enough when Taehyung invited her along to the nearest tavern the staff liked to frequent. Probably the head maid and Nasimiyu would give her hell later but she wouldn’t regret the evening drinking and playing cards with Taehyung, Jimin, and several other staff who seemed to warm to her since Taehyung had her under wing. He seemed to charm people on first meeting. It was wild to Dulce that no one suspected he was royal –not that she believed royals were actually born better than anyone else, but if such a thing existed, he sure had it. Seokjin had the looks for it but he was too…

“Involved,” Jimin had sighed as they walked back to the palace together late in the night. Dulce had thought soft or foolish but involved seemed right as well. With quite a bit of alcohol now warming her blood, Dulce nodded at Jimin’s rant, his tongue loosened by a few shots too many. “What’s he doing throwing punches with Namjoon in the middle of the courtyard? He’s got other things to be worried about right now, like his wedding!” 

Jimin had not been there for the fight. He’d arrived late, too late to hear Seokjin shout at his cousin: Keep your fucking hands off Dulce!

She shuddered. Her name didn’t belong in the prince’s mouth. It always sounded wrong. His concern for her was misplaced. Her business was none of his. And while she didn’t know how the fuck he’d found out, she did not need some knight in velvet and jewels rallying to her defense. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, realizing Jimin was waiting for her to say something. 

“He’s so eager to impress your mistress though,” Jimin continued. “I worry he’d do anything for her at this point. At dinner it sounded like it all had something to do with Nasimiyu… she had a problem with Namjoon?”

So Jimin didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Dulce admitted. “I wasn’t with her. I only showed up at the end of the fight.”

“With Taehyung.”

“Yeah.” 

“You two are getting… close.”

Dulce arched her eyebrow and asked, “Are we? Says… Taehyung?”

Jimin laughed and admitted, “I know him too well to trust anything he says. But last time he invited you along, you didn’t join and this time you did.”

“Last time was for a fuck, this was for a game of cards.”

“Yeah, beginner’s luck,” Jimin grumbled because he’d lost and badly. Dulce had won just enough to not seem suspicious, but the men had made a big fuss out of it, like she’d never played cards before, like she needed to be coddled. Because she was a woman. And apparently that made you less good at cards or something? They were all terrible; it was a challenge to lose.

“Everyone in this palace worries too much about who’s fucking who,” she told him, assuming he was trying to clumsily ask if she and Taehyung were fucking, or maybe if she wanted to fuck, or if fucking was off the table.

“Be nice, it’s all they have to do,” Jimin laughed. “It’s Priva! The capital of the world! Live in Priva –live in the palace of Priva– and enjoy infinite wealth, splendors out your ass, nonstop fun!” he shouted, his voice echoing around the empty yard as they crossed it.

Dulce tried not to smile at his drunk antics and gave him a friendly shove, scolding, “Be quiet, you’re a public nuisance.”

“Even the staff here live the life of dreams!”

“If you’re so miserable, leave.”

“I’m not miserable, I love my job. Taehyung’s the one shoveling horse shit, I just fluff collars and make sure the pets get fed and tell people the prince isn’t in his room when he’s got a comic he wants to read,” Jimin corrected. 

“Yes, sounds awful.”

“I know what awful is. I know I have it good,” Jimin corrected. “You have it good.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Sure,” Dulce said.

“Is the princess good to you? They say you can tell a lot about someone by how they treat their staff. What does it tell us about the princess, hm? Will she be a good queen, Dulce? What will the world look like when we’re shining the shoes of the people in charge?”

He was drunk and rambling and thinking big thoughts but Dulce wasn’t in the mood to follow. And certainly she would never get so drunk as to start spilling secrets, even Nasimiyu’s. Not only could she hold her liquor better than that, she’d never let herself drink that much. He laughed when she said nothing.

“Enigmatic Dulce.”

“Big word for a Destin.”

“Ha! Classist!”

“Paloman. I believe we’re beneath you in education so I’m punching up.”

“We’re trash people from trash principalities, it’s true,” Jimin sighed. “I don’t have much lost love for my homeland but Prince Seokjin will do right by them. He promised.”

“Hm.”

“He seems to like you, maybe he’ll be a good benefactor to Paloma too.”

“I’m not sure he could find it on a map.”

She hadn’t meant to say that part, but it set Jimin off in a peal of laughter that had him stumbling on the stairs. She felt obligated to see him to his room, which he made a big show of thanking her for, bowing low and kissing her hand, then giving her a gentle tug to see if she’d follow him into his private room. Because of course he got a private room, lucky ass. Why didn’t she get a private room?

But Dulce didn’t feel like fucking anyone right now. Sex would be a chore, despite Jimin’s good looks. The alcohol made her numb and there was too much drama and she was annoyed and not in the mood to be exposed in any way with anyone. 

So she declined, pinching Jimin’s ear when he pouted about it. She’d walked away before realizing at least she could have slept in his room, away from so many people. Maybe she ought to have taken him up on it but then “fallen asleep drunkenly” before they could get their clothes off.

This regret mixed with the others from the day, from the past few days, and she felt her spirits sink the further she walked from Jimin and his bright presence. Even his complaints seemed more like bragging and gratitude; he was dedicated to the Prince thoroughly, even when smashed. He belonged here.

Dulce got that bubbling feeling under her skin again, the same one that had made her freeze earlier when Seokjin had said that, making it clear she’d stupidly stepped into a trap without noticing. A feeling that, to be honest, she had been trying to ignore for a while now:

Get out of here.

The strains of that warning threaded through just about every encounter she’d had since she arrived here. She didn’t belong in this palace, with these people, with Nasimiyu, anywhere in sight of this Prince with the walking target on his forehead that he’d practically painted there himself. And what was she doing this all for, to protect a family who hadn’t even tried to find her when she left? No, why would they? All anyone cared about in her family was themself and their own interests. Everything she’d learned about her family as a child was just a lie. It was all a lie, all the good things in the world…

Realizing she was too tired and more than a little drunk and probably going to get in a fight with the other maids when she crept into the sleeping quarters, she took a detour to the kitchen instead. Might as well get some food and water to clear her mind.

It was so late the kitchens were actually quiet, which only happened for a couple hours in the middle of the night, and even then, there was no guarantee that no one would ring the bell with some midnight demand to rouse the overnight staff.

Perhaps that had happened because she heard voices deep in the kitchen, too muffled to make out until she drew close. The door to the outside swung shut as Yoongi turned to her, a bleary look to his eyes.

“Are you cooking?” she asked with confusion because there was no food out. 

“Just finished,” he said, gesturing to the dishes piled in the sinks, ready for the washers in the morning. “Did you come for food or company?”

“Food.”

“Had enough company already?” he pressed. “You smell like a tavern.”

“That is probably because I was in one.”

“Really? Didn’t take you for the going out type,” Yoongi mused, beginning to rummage. 

“I can find something, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t want you digging around, just sit.”

“I go out,” she belatedly answered. “Sometimes.” She watched his back as he found bread and butter and a bowl of small berries she wasn’t familiar with.

“Me too, when I’m avoiding someone.”

“Who said I was avoiding someone?”

“Were you?”

“What is that berry?”

“They’re called cloudberries,” he explained as she picked from the bowl to inspect. She’d never seen anything like the misshapen orange sphere before. “They’re imported.”

“Too expensive to feed a maid,” she pointed out before popping it into her mouth. She felt very comfortable with Yoongi right now. She didn’t want to but it couldn’t be helped. Sometimes it was lonely, never getting close to anyone. She couldn’t get close to him either but she could settle into a corner with him in a different way than she could with Nasimiyu or with Jimin or Taehyung and somehow all these little pieces of herself she showed in flashes to different because it was human nature to crave connection had to be enough.

No, it was enough!

She didn’t need more than that.

“The king won’t know and the prince won’t mind,” Yoongi assured her. 

“You might be surprised…” she mumbled. 

“Who are you avoiding?”

“No one,” she answered again, glare brief in Yoongi’s direction because he had fed her, after all. 

A thud against the outside wall made them both look over and Yoongi sighed.

“Does someone need you?”

“Are you avoiding… Namjoon?” Yoongi asked. Even before she could roll her eyes he pressed on in an almost deadpan voice, “Did he cause you harm or take advantage of you in any way that makes you feel unsafe?”

For a moment she just looked at him, not sure why the look or voice. He looked like someone had a dagger to his throat, forcing him to ask the question.

Then an idea came to her. She set the bread down before she’d even had a bite, and pushed away from the counter, marching over to the door that led to the outside and threw it open.

Prince Seokjin stood just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed although he straightened immediately at the rush of the door.

She looked back at Yoongi and demanded, “Really? You’re voiceboxing for him? If you have a question, Prince Seokjin, you can ask it to my face.”

“I…” He looked startled and she belatedly recognized her own inappropriate intensity and familiarity. The alcohol might not make her divulge secrets, but there had been a lot of it, and it did make her a little…loose. Informal. Irritable. 

Just as quickly, he cleared his throat and asked with all the propriety of a lord asking a lady for a dance, “Did he hurt you?”

“No!” she scoffed and strode back into the kitchen to get her food. He followed, as she suspected he would.

“I don’t mean to offend you by asking the question–”

“You do offend me. Who I fuck is none of your business.”

He blinked rapidly, maybe at her language, and assured her, “Yes, I– yes, of course it’s not, but– except that I wanted to make sure–”

“You wanted to make sure,” she repeated, grabbing the hunk of bread. “So instead of asking me, you brawled in the courtyard and then shouted my name, associating me– spreading my private business–”

“I suspected he had– Nasimiyu told me– I only wanted to protect you,” he said, and recoiled as if he had tossed her a hot potato and suspected she would throw it back in his face.

“To protect me,” she repeated in utter disbelief.

“He’s a lord and you’re a… a maid.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I don’t mean it as an insult,” he hurried to say. “But it wouldn’t be the first time someone used their title to take advantage of a woman who– who might feel as if no one cares or that there is no justice to be had.”

“Noble of you. Do you run around fighting everyone who does such a thing? Before there is even a complaint from the woman?”

“I… well…” He clearly floundered for words and Dulce bit into the bread because she felt too loud herself and didn’t like it. She was furious, she realized about herself. She didn’t even fully understand why, except that this man had done something stupid and she was furious about it. “I don’t often have it brought to my attention,” he stammered out. “If I did, yes, of course I would defend any woman who needed it.”

“This one didn’t.”

“Well…”

“Not every woman is a damsel in distress.”

“Yes, certainly, of course not. And I’m no knight,” he offered, smiling with that supplicating grin like he hoped he could soothe her anger with a joke. 

“I don’t think a knight would shout a woman’s private affairs right in the middle of the courtyard–”

“What did you shout?” Yoongi asked, eyes going wide. “You didn’t mention that part.”

“I– well, you see, it was just– ah, you know how it goes when you have a fight and your blood is pumping and the nerves, maybe you don’t think through everything… I don’t know what I said, I don’t think it was important…”

“It was private,” she said, lowering her voice, lowering her eyes, playing into the very image of demure lady she realized he expected of her. Soft little sweet maid. Quiet. Unassuming. Violated.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just– I know him, and I don’t want him taking advantage of you– or anyone! But especially–” 

Yoongi coughed and pounded on his chest so Dulce didn’t hear what Seokjin said. 

“I mean that I’m sorry I said anything. I’m sorry I got involved in your affairs, it just never occurred to me that you would… I mean that you…”

“That I have sex?” she blurted out. “I do. I have sex. I’m not this blushing virgin maid you seem to think I am! You don’t have to come swooping in to fight off men for me.”

“Well I just– in the city that day, those men were bothering–”

“I could have taken care of them too! I don’t need your help!”

“Yes of course not,” he said, and pinched his cheek and turned away. “Of course you don’t. You um… you have feelings for him and it’s not my right to interfere–”

“Your idea of women is so…”

Yoongi held his hand up to her, an interruption that gave her just the pause she needed to realize she was saying too much. Expressing too much. She was just so mad that he of all people could so greatly misunderstand her. Underestimate her! And the infuriating thing was that she couldn’t actually even tell him the truth! That she’d been thinking of–

NO, not that truth! That she had murdered–

No, not that one either! That she could kill if she needed to, that she could defend herself–

“Sometimes women have sex for fun,” Yoongi informed Seokjin. “It doesn’t have to be profound.”

Seokjin’s face had turned a deep shade of scarlet, his ears practically emitting flames in the low light of the kitchen lamps, as he stammered, “Yes, of course, I know that. I just meant– I didn’t realize it was your way of passing the time– but that’s fine! I’m not here to judge. I just misunderstood but it was– it was a good faith mistake! I just want to make sure you feel safe and happy here. Namjoon is known to have– well there was this business before where he inserted himself into the wrong woman– I mean situation!” he cried. “Honestly the fight wasn’t even about you, we go way back, I’ve had problems with him and how he treats women for a long time.”

Yoongi swept crumbs from the counter where her abandoned bread sat hardening, and mumbled, “I don’t know, maybe he treats them well…��

“You aren’t helping here,” Seokjin said, the only thing he’d managed to say that didn’t sound like a stuttering, stumbling mess.

“I fed her, helpful,” Yoongi countered. “You overstepped, so just say you’re sorry and move on.”

“I’m sorry, move on,” Seokjin said, then covered his face and cried, “Fuck, I meant–” 

Dulce genuinely couldn’t believe this guy, so worked up about her anger that he clearly couldn’t think straight. She hated herself for wanting to laugh at what he’d said. It was funny, if he’d meant it as a joke. She hated how much she liked that he told jokes at the worst times. But she was furious with him! Mortified! Ashamed! How dare he say something funny right now!

“I would love to move on but now I might lose my job because of my private… happenings,” she said. Not entirely true, but not totally a lie, and she couldn’t let go of her anger so easily. 

“You won’t,” Seokjin said, as if he had any control of it. “There’s no way Nasimiyu would lose you over this. Just because you have terrible taste in men doesn’t mean–”

“Jin…” Yoongi mumbled.

“Well she deserves to know– you deserve to know he’s not a good man. Maybe it’s just sex, I don’t know, that’s your– that’s your own private affair, but you should know he’s not a good man so don’t expect anything good from him.”

“Stop worrying about me!”

“Yes, right, fine, I’ll just turn it off!” he said, throwing up his hands. “I’m sorry I tried to be a decent man.”

“You have bigger things to worry about than the sex life of a maid,” she huffed. “I didn’t ask for your help or your worry or your– your saving or whatever you thought you were doing!”

“Yes, I see that now. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I’ll just mind my own business. Pretend I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t know me!” she pointed out. 

He didn’t say anything. Just threw his hands up and walked out the door of the kitchen into the yard. It enraged Dulce. She felt a nearly-impossible-to-ignore urge to chase after him and grab his arm because how dare he just walk off during an argument? Nearly, but not quite; she stopped herself because Yoongi was there, and the sight of him was enough to sober her the pinch she needed to realize she was behaving like a drunk lunatic. She never lost control like this. She never bickered like this! There was no point! Bickering gave someone else power over you. Needing to have the last word or prove a point or correct someone’s thinking meant you cared, and she didn’t have space to care –certainly not about what some stupid prince who was going to die anyway thought about her. Who gave a shit if he thought she was fucking around? Who gave a shit if he thought she was inexperienced and shy and helpless? Who gave a shit what he thought at all?

She’d shouted at him. She’d shown too much, cared too much, let her feelings take over in a way that made everything a thousand times more embarrassing. She’d shouted at the crown prince. And Yoongi had witnessed the whole thing.

Cover cover cover!

“I’m drunk,” she told Yoongi, not a lie. She let her eyes get really wide and asked, “Do you think he’ll have me thrown in prison for talking to him like–”

“If you want him to stop infantilizing you, you should stop it with the eyes,” Yoongi dismissed her with a gesture. 

“What?” She was genuinely surprised. No one had ever cut so sharply through that sort of thing with her before.

“Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Interfering.”

“Interfering with what?” she asked, her confusion genuine because what could he possibly mean by that?! Interfering with… “With the Prince and Lord Namjoon? It’s not a secret they hate each other but why would anything I do with Lord Namjoon have anything to do with the other? It was just alcohol-induced sex after the ball! Fucking isn’t always that deep!”

“Ah, he’d have a quip for that,” Yoongi snickered. Dulce didn’t know if that meant she’d managed to clear his suspicions that she was up to something. But honestly, to think she’d fucked Namjoon as a way to… to what? To piss off Nasimiyu, if anything!

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of doing.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t either. Why don’t you head off though? Take your bread. Damn, what a mess.”

“The crumbs?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t the crumbs, knowing that apparently he didn’t buy the innocent act. And Seokjin had bought it too much. And she was angry about him buying the very act she had fed him and for why? Because he’d believed it so much he was willing to fight a man about it? That couldn’t really truly actually be the reason he’d fought Namjoon and yet… 

She took her bread and the cloudberries and left, but the berries tasted too sweet right now, like they’d make her sick. 

The first person to ever fight for Dulce and it had to be him?

What a mess.

“He was on duty when he disappeared?” Dong-gun asked, looking down his nose at Jungkook as Seokjin stood by. Jungkook nodded, glancing at Seokjin for confirmation. The remaining three men of Seokjin’s bodyguard rotation stood by, with a space in between where Edmung ought to be. Five, five men who followed Seokjin around the clock, even stood outside to do nothing but wait when he slept or pissed or attended council. Even checked the washroom before he entered if it was outside his own chamber. And fuck him if he had bubble-guts or something and needed to spend some extra time in there, because they just stood there on the outside, waiting, knowing.

The guards had been assigned to him since that time he’d been just about assassinate years ago, but Seokjin didn’t complain about it anymore because the truth was he dodged them all the fucking time so it wasn’t too much of a burden. Jungkook wound up with an unfair balance of shifts because Jungkook was the one he was least inclined to dodge. But Alonzo, Muhtar, and Marks were old, annoying, judgmental, and never laughed at any of Seokjin’s jokes. He also  suspected they reported everything he said and did to his father –or would have if he did anything worthy of mention, good or bad. He didn’t trust them much, though he supposed they were good at their job. There hadn’t been any close calls since that hunting trip. It could also be that no one cared enough to try anymore. 

“Seokjin?”

“He was just gone,” Seokjin confirmed with a shrug. “I didn’t lose him on purpose. I don’t remember the last time I saw him.”

“It’s a window of two hours between when his rotation began and when Jungkook noticed he was missing,” Muhtar explained. That was a long time in which Seokjin couldn’t recall a single interaction with the man. Not that they usually interacted. He was sort of… annoying. A few years older than Jungkook, and he did laugh at Seokjin’s jokes sometimes, but he just took himself and his job so seriously. The older guards did too, but they were calmer about it. Sometimes Seokjin wanted to take Edmund by the shoulders and shake him and insist This isn’t an impressive assignment! The only person who ever tried to kill me was a crazy guy who thought I looked too much like my dead mother to live! He insisted he could talk to animals and that he controlled the boar he sent after me with his mind! He was nuts!

Damn, he hated to remember it. The immediate formation of his guard might make it appear as though his father was deeply concerned about the attempt, rather than embarrassed at his son’s incompetence. Seokho was off winning a war and Seokjin was nearly killed by a wild boar in the caves while holding a gun. He’d shot ducks before, he’d caught and cleaned his own fish, he wasn’t –as his father laughed and lectured for years to come– incapable of getting his hands dirty with the matters of life and death. Incapable of defending himself while his older brother was off fighting and killing people. 

The boar had nearly killed him. Gouged him in the side, knocked him off a cliff, and he’d hung there bleeding to death as Jungkook shot the boar in the head, shot the assassin in the leg from his perch in the trees, and pulled Seokjin up from the branch. At nineteen. Home on a brief leave from the military and allowed to hunt with them as a favor to his late father who’d died defending Dong-gun. A hero at nineteen while Seokjin couldn’t even shoot a boar that was about to kill him. 

He’d never said it, but sometimes Seokjin wondered if his father wished the boar had finished the job. Or that his sons had traded places, and it was Seokjin who’d died in the Therepin border skirmish two months later. He himself felt like that sometimes too. Not that he wanted to die –because actually there were many things he enjoyed in life– but that it wouldn’t be so bad to die because he didn’t really get to live much anyway. That’s how he felt sometimes. If he died, eh, maybe it was meant to be, and he’d done his best to wring enjoyment from his short life while he could. 

So he snuck into the city to enjoy himself. He broke away from his bodyguards so they wouldn’t watch him with those dull, judgmental, disappointed gazes, pretending not to but observing everything. Even Edmund, who acted like it was a great honor to be hired to guard the crown prince. It led him to wish the bodyguards weren’t there, to act like it, so that a man who dedicated his life to Seokjin’s safety disappeared and Seokjin couldn’t even say the last time he’d seen him.

“There’s been no body found?” King Dong-gun asked the head of palace security.

“No, sir.”

“Which means he could still be alive and talking,” Uncle Dong-suk pointed out, standing by the window. Seokjin was surprised his father had allowed his uncle into this meeting on palace security affairs after they’d fought nonstop since his uncle’s arrival, but maybe Uncle Dong-suk had just invited himself and his father simply hadn’t wanted to argue any more.

Seokjin shrugged, “He won’t have anything to talk about. He doesn’t go into council with me. I don’t have anything confidential in my rooms and he doesn’t go into them anyway.”

“Guards don’t have free access to all places in the palace,” the head of palace security insisted. “If Edmund was attempting to access anything important, the guards posted at those rooms would deny him entry.”

Marks –who, notably, had hired Edmund– insisted, “We have no reason to believe he was a traitor. It’s more likely he was captured and is loyal and innocent of wrong-doing.”

“Except for getting captured, leaving my son open to danger.”

“But how would he actually be captured in the middle of the palace while on duty?” Alonzo pointed out. “He wouldn’t go without a fight.”

“Unless he’s guilty is my point.”

“In which case he would probably leave while off duty,” Jungkook pointed out. “I don’t know how he was taken but I think he was, ser. Quickly and quietly.”

“Could this be related to the body found in the Princess’s bureau?” Muhtar suggested. 

“Should we double up bodyguards? Two at a time?”

“No,” Seokjin said quickly. “I’ll just be more aware of what’s around me.” No one had a comment on that, which he took poorly; they clearly didn’t think him capable of being aware of his surroundings, a low fucking bar. “We don’t even know what happened, I don’t see any reason to double up my guards, especially when I don’t even leave the palace. For all we know he went to help a cat and slipped over the sea wall or something…”

The debate went on. Ultimately Seokjin won about not increasing his bodyguard, but lost about increasing palace guards. Two attacks within the walls was two too many. The search for Edmund would continue, though without a single lead, it seemed as likely to be solved as the dead body in Nasimiyu’s bedroom.

Seokjin felt a headache coming on. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. Everything had been so quiet and dull before Nasimiyu arrived and now he couldn’t keep up with it all. His father wanted to spend the afternoon holding court as a way to show there was nothing wrong, but intelligence had come in about another demonstration in Destin and Uncle Dong-suk wanted to “talk about it.” Which probably meant arguing with Dong-gun about whether he could take several hundred soldiers and just raze the principality to the ground. The more Seokjin learned about his uncle’s policies –both on and off the books– the more he feared his father had an absolute sadist running the military.

They won wars. Their borders were safe. But if the things he heard said about his uncle’s campaigns were true, how could his father possibly let the man be the top general of all Yeonhalbi’s military? Yet at the same time, he saw his father constantly checking his uncle, telling him no about this, no about that. Did they genuinely disagree? Did his uncle do those things anyway? Did his father feel like it just gave him plausible deniability?

Seokjin didn’t know what the truth was. He was scared to know more. All he knew for a fact was that his uncle was cruel, had frightened him since he was a child, beaten him plenty of times to instill that fear, and seemed incapable of joy or mercy. When Seokjin was king someday, Dong-suk would have to go. Surely there was a man who could run the armies for Yeonhalbi and not give off the impression, true or not, that he was committing war atrocities –or, what seemed to be his father’s latest accusation, lying about unrest simply to get permission for a war. If nothing else, Seokjin would need a general he could say no to, who would listen to that no. In this fictional world where suddenly Seokjin knew the right thing to do and just needed people to execute his grand plans.

But how were you supposed to know? As he sat through the debate about Destin –which had his father and uncle arguing so loudly he thought they’d come to blows– all Seokjin could think was, how are you supposed to know? How did you know which wars were worth fighting? How did you know which sacrifices were worth making? Which risks worth taking? It was one thing to refuse a doubled guard because it was his own life at risk; it was another entirely to debate whether the time had come to handle Destin with overwhelming violence or if they could afford to ignore the new alleged raids happening along the Therepin border. Those were Yeonhalbin lives being lost either path you took.

All Seokjin could think was that it was good there were adults handling these decisions. Adult who knew what to do. But did they? They had all differing opinions. And he was an adult! At twenty-nine, shouldn’t he have a clear idea of the right things to do, the proper choices to make? Seok-ho had died at thirty-one, but by twenty-nine he’d already been so sure of himself.

Seokjin couldn’t even manage to be friends with a maid. He’d been so sure he was finally doing the right thing for her, for women in general. Finally taking a stand against Namjoon and his greed. Nasimiyu seemed happy about it but Dulce… damn. Dulce had really put him in his place about it, in a way he’d never expected. He felt like shit about the whole thing –that he’d gotten it so wrong, that he’d insulted her without meaning to, and maybe worst of all, that she’d chosen Namjoon.

She’d chosen him.

It didn’t matter whether it was just sex or something more. Dulce tolerated Seokjin’s jokes and drank hot chocolate with him and tried his culinary masterpieces in the kitchen, but when it came to actual attraction, her eyes went right to Namjoon. Not that Seokjin expected Dulce would choose him or anything, but couldn’t it have been anyone but Namjoon? If she wanted “just sex” so badly? Yoongi was right there! Hell, Jimin and Taehyung had made it annoyingly obvious she was welcome to their dick, and Jungkook had slid right in at the ball–

Who was he kidding? Seokjin knew he’d sulk at least a little no matter who she chose. For reasons he was not particularly interested in analyzing, thank you very much. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t personal. Maybe he just respected her opinions, and would have liked for her to think highly of him. Maybe he’d like to be chosen by someone for once. No one ever chose him. Nasimiyu wasn’t even choosing him, she was just stuck with him.

For some reason, girls always chose Namjoon. 

He failed to wipe the scowl from his face as he crossed paths with Namjoon and Mindeulle in the hall. It was pure coincidence; he would have simply avoided making eye contact and hurried away. Instead his gaze just happened to narrow as he came face to face with both of them.

“You can’t be like this forever, please, Seokjin,” Mindeulle leapt into the middle. 

For once, Seokjin said nothing, because he wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, he might owe Namjoon an apology. On the other hand, he meant what he’d said. In fact, he meant it even more now that Dulce had confirmed it was consensual. Looking at Namjoon’s dumb face and broad muscular body and incessant talking about intelligent and profound things and understanding now that this was what Dulce had been drawn to made feelings begin to boil again. So he kept his mouth shut. Because he could be intelligent and profound too and he thought Dulce knew that but apparently she didn’t like his kind of intelligent and profound, or at least not his face. And it didn’t matter because she was just the maid of his future wife but all the same. 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon mumbled and grabbed Mindeulle’s arm to drag her away.

“But–”

“I said it’s fine.”

Seokjin didn’t feel fine about any bit of it, and he didn’t appreciate Namjoon taking some kind of high road either. But all he could do was stride down the hall away from them, trying to look like he had not a single care in the world. He wanted to be that man again, the one who didn’t care, who didn’t worry, who just let himself be carried along by the inevitable and did his best because nothing more could be asked for. But ever since Nasimiyu had arrived, he’d been confronted again and again by all the ways his best was wrong or ridiculous or not good enough.

And now one of his bodyguards was either dead or betraying him. Personally, his money was on dead, but did he really know anyone? Anyone? Maybe Edmund had been tracking his movements or eavesdropping on things around the palace for months and just split because the time was right! That was better though. Otherwise a man had quietly died for him. It made him feel sick.

Seokjin needed out of here. He needed to get away from this place and people for a few days and decompress. Not Prince Seokjin, not Dong-gun’s leftover son, most certainly not the future king. He wanted to sit on a dinky little fishing boat and catch his own dinner and invent a new spice rub. He never got to go fishing these days. The most he managed was hiding away in his room and even that seemed impossible lately. His poor pets were suffering without him! Everything just felt too big and heavy.

Hands on his back made him jump and spin with a shout that Marks pretended not to see as Nasimiyu looked up at him with surprise. 

“Ah, you. Hey you,” he grinned at her, stumbling to match the energy that flowed just from her hands pressed against his chest and the curve of her lips.

“Nasimiyu. Your fiance. Remember me?”

“Yes, I think so,” he joked. “Um…” Her hand slid down his chest to tap his belt loop before she pulled her hands away. His mind tripped, confused by the openly fond way she looked at him now. Yes they’d had sex, but she seemed so different towards him than she had even before yesterday. 

“Are you rushing off to something important?” she asked him.

“No, leaving. Hoping to avoid anything else important today. Mundane activities only.”

“Oh. Hm. I had an idea, but it’s not very mundane.”

“Oh? Uh…” He looked up and down the hall but they were alone (except for Marks. Fucking Marks.) “What did you have in mind?” He figured he must be reading unintended flirtiness into her behavior and wasn’t disappointed by that fact. His mind was a million places at once right now and he did not feel up to the task of being a very good lover.

“I wanted to thank you. For taking me seriously yesterday.” She dropped her voice and clarified, “About Lord Namjoon and my maid.”

“Ah. Right. You don’t have to thank me. You’re to be my wife, of course I’ll take you seriously.” He gave her a serious nod to drive the point home.

“I know you’ve had to endure teasing about it. From your father and uncle.” Teasing wasn’t the word he’d use but it didn’t matter; he shrugged. “So let’s spend some time together.”

“Ah, I’m sorry Nasimiyu, I’m a little distracted this afternoon. I don’t have the energy to go out–”

“Not to go out, to stay in. Come on,” she said, taking his hand and tugging him along. He knew he must be misunderstanding, and truthfully he wanted to just go back to his room and be alone, but he also knew that Nasimiyu was being openly affectionate with him for the first time ever and he’d be an idiot not to encourage it. Wasn’t this what he had longed for –for years? His future bride tossing a coy smile over her shoulder and leading him by the hand to her bedroom? Shutting the door and the world outside and guiding his hands to the laces of her dress?

“Right now?” he asked with surprise.

“Something wrong? Do you have a schedule?”

“No. No, I just– I’m surprised. That’s all.” He wasn’t prepared for this, mentally. He willed himself to prepare as her clothing fell away –even though it felt all wrong. The sun was out. That had never occurred to him as something wrong for sex, but it’s what he blamed the wrongness on now. Or the stress of the day.

“Seokjin?”

“Sorry, I…” He almost told her that Edmund was missing but decided it was better not to frighten her. Not until he knew there was actually a reason to be frightened. “Just distracted. A lot on my mind today.”

“I don’t suppose your uncle had anything good to say today either, did he?” she asked. To his surprise, she didn’t seem angry about his confession or the delay. Her body was all feline grace as she walked, totally nude, to her vanity and removed her jewelry. “Just war war war, I supposed?”

“Yes. War war war.”

“I don’t like him,” she admitted, meeting his gaze through the mirror. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful. Why wasn’t his body responding to this beautiful woman standing so comfortably naked in front of him? 

“Me either.”

“I want him gone. As soon as possible,” Nasimiyu said.

Seokjin cracked a crooked grin and admitted, “I don’t make decisions like that.”

“Yet. Someday you will, when you’re king.”

“Yes, someday.”

“And we’ll get someone else to be our general then,” she said. “Right? Even my father would be better. Or maybe not my father, I don’t know, but someone we can trust not to– do you think the rumors about what he’s done are true?”

“I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard. I hope not. It’s making me cold; let’s not talk about him more while you’re naked. I don’t want those things to get crossed in my mind.”

“Yes, of course. But I just mean, you agree? That we’ll replace him?”

“It can be the very first thing we do someday.”

Nasimiyu turned back to him and took hold of the lapel of his jacket, all grins as she cooed, “Our first agreement for our future rule.”

“I hope we’ll agree on a lot more than that.”

“I’m sure we will. You’re far more reasonable than I initially thought. But right now, you seem overly burdened with your work today and taking care of that nonsense with Namjoon and my maid yesterday so let me take a load off your mind.”

“Uh… yes?” She nudged him backwards to the bed, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, undoing his belt and pants.

“You just lay back and do exactly as I say and I think we can both be very happy.”

Seokjin would have been a fool not to go along with this, and so he lay back, and tried to will his mind clear. He was a lucky man. With a beautiful bride. The way she rode him felt good, so good, what more could he possibly ask for?

***

“Hang these in the closet,” Mirte told her, draping the gowns across Dulce’s arms. “No need to linger, you’re going on a cleaning shift after that.”

Dulce’s arms itched beneath the heavy silks and velvets and beadwork –totally the wrong clothing for a salty city like Priva– as she complained, “Can’t I take them in the morning?” She suspected Nasimiyu was in the room and wasn’t in the mood to see her. She’d managed to avoid her since their argument, and was even more convinced now that she ought to keep herself scarce, in case somehow Seokjin’s shout had reached Nasimiyu’s ears: Keep your fucking hands off Dulce! Dulce was a failure at her mission. The target shouldn’t know your name like that.

Her getting assigned to laundry and cleaning had Nasimiyu’s other maids delighted, since it was obvious Dulce had fallen out of favor. She didn’t care; she was glad for the distance. 

“She’s wearing the orange tomorrow, it must be hung in there tonight, do not question your orders,” Mirte scolded. Older, gray-haired, a total bitch ever since Princess Simisola had insisted Dulce be brought along as part of Nasimiyu’s household despite her obvious bumbling skills as a maid. If Mirte had half a brain she knew there was something suspicious about it, but apparently she had the other half that wanted to keep her job and life and so she had accepted this inconvenience without further question. But plenty of barbs towards Dulce. 

Fine, Dulce would hang the gowns and leave quickly, no matter what Nasimiyu might say or do. How like her to demand a specific dress for the next day. Who cared? Grab something from your dozens of gowns already hanging and don’t force a maid to run around the palace with your ridiculously expensive clothing when she’d rather do the laundry and get some rest. 

Dulce knocked at the door and paused a moment to make sure Nasimiyu didn’t shout at her to go away. It was normal for servants to slip in and out otherwise unnoticed. They weren’t important, after all, not people, just tools, pieces of furniture there to serve the house without question or notice. 

The guard had to pull the door for her to slip inside, which she couldn’t do quietly with so much fabric draped over her. She could barely see around herself, a veritable moving mountain, as she shuffled sideways so as not to bash her shins on any wayward furniture or drag the hems and have to wash them all over again.

Which meant her mind lagged without a visual and with her senses focused on safety. The moans didn’t register at first, the dull thud of a mattress. The masculine shout coincided with the moment her mind registered the sounds, wait a moment. Instinct made her twist quickly to see the source of the cry just as Prince Seokjin leapt from the bed, dragging a sheet around his waist and turning his back to her.

Nasimiyu looked lazily over her shoulder, the long curve of her body stretched across the bed. She looked neither bothered nor surprised to see Dulce, as if she looked right through her. Dulce couldn’t decide if this was cruelty on display, if Nasimiyu had engineered her to walk in on her and the Prince fucking, or if Nasimiyu only meant her cold indifference at this happenstance to be the barb.

“Ah, hi… Dulce…” Seokjin stammered, body curled away from her as if he could disappear, as if she might not notice he was nude except for the sheet. Mid-fuck. Flushed and sweaty. Dulce’s insides grated against each other, shredding. “Uh…”

Nasimiyu rolled her eyes and insisted, “Come back to bed, Seokjin, she’s just hanging my gowns.”

Cruel cruel cruel. It was one thing to have listened to Nasimiyu wax poetic about Seokjin’s cock, it was another to interrupt their lovemaking. Dulce turned her back to them, desperate to look as unbothered. She didn’t want to give Nasimiyu the satisfaction. It didn’t matter if this had been intentional. It seemed like a game Nasimiyu might play to get revenge about Namjoon, to prove to Dulce how replaceable she was, the make sure she understood that Nasimiyu was fucking someone else too. Her future husband. She had no way of knowing Dulce would feel more bothered by Seokjin’s naked, muscular back than the soft curves covering the sharp edges of Nasimiyu’s anger. Dulce snipped quickly, easily, at the cords connecting her to Nasimiyu, but tangled herself up confronted by the prince. Naked. Interrupted mid-fuck. An image that would never leave her mind now. He looked even taller out of his clothes. There was definition to his leanness she had not anticipated, lines of muscle along his arms and across his stomach. Knowing how he ate, how was his waist so thin? 

And he’d just had his cock in Nasimiyu, that one she raved about so eloquently.

Dulce said nothing and moved as quietly as she could, as if she could undo her presence. She shuffled into the closet and drew deep, trembling breaths to control herself. She was good at control. There was nothing remarkable here. Just a servant going about their business while their mistress lived her life. She hung the gowns quickly, nauseated by every brush of her hand against the fabric. How stupid, how ridiculous that people were born into such different lives like that. Because of the circumstances of her birth, here was Nasimiyu, a princess spending her evening stretched out beneath a prince. And Dulce hung her gowns, each one probably worth more than her family’s entire property, gowns which must be delivered tonight so that Nasimiyu could wear the one of her choosing tomorrow, even while the princess was busy being fucked by a prince. The prince. 

It took an eternity to hang the damn gowns. Probably the hems were wrinkling and she’d done a bad job but fuck everyone, Dulce didn’t care. She wasn’t a laundress. She wasn’t even a fucking maid. She was sick of this whole fucking place and the people in it and her reason for being here was irrevocably broken. Nasimiyu’s cruelty had turned towards her now and she wasn’t going to sit around and be her punching bag, a plaything. She’d leave tonight and never look back and Prince Hamisi could throw his tantrum. Maybe she’d even go back to her family and move them. Maybe Prince Hamisi was full of bluff and shit anyway. Maybe she’d kill Prince Hamisi, just for fun. 

She tried not to look at either of them as she left the room. Nasimiyu lay on her back, chest clearly pushed up, probably hoping Dulce would notice her tits, ever vain. Prince Seokjin sat on the edge of the bed, blanket still wrapped around his waist, back to both women and face cast down and away. His shoulders slumped miserably. Poor baby, had he lost his erection? Not an exhibitionist? Good luck keeping up with Nasimiyu if one maid walking through was enough to interrupt him. Most men wouldn’t stop. Some men would make eye contact and enjoy the audience. Half the noblemen were probably fucking their maids anyway. King Dong-gun had been after all. Had it started when the Queen’s handmaid walked through the room, just like this? Had it been a secret at first, or had the Queen extended her hand and asked Taehyung’s mother to join? Nasimiyu extended her hand and Dulce saw her smile out of the periphery, almost like she was going to suggest it.

But Prince Seokjin wasn’t his father. Dulce couldn’t imagine he’d agree to that, not if he couldn’t even keep fucking his wife while a piece of furniture brought in the laundry. 

Dulce was only too glad to close the door behind herself. The guards laughed and she realized they had known what they were letting her in to. They thought it was funny, a maid passing into a room where people were fucking. Everyone was a sick voyeur, was that it?

No, in another situation Dulce might have seen the humor. She might have rolled her eyes about the whole thing. Maybe in a different situation, she would have invited herself. That was the dark thought she wouldn’t let her mind entertain –a world in which she didn’t hate Nasimiyu, in which Nasimiyu wasn’t angry with her, in which she would be invited into that bed and–

No, she wouldn’t let that fantasy linger for even a moment! She wouldn’t think about what she would do, what Nasimiyu would do, what the prince might do in that situation. Never. Some thoughts were too destructive to think, and right now she was frazzled and shocked and…

…and distressed. She recognized the pounding of her heart but at least it was invisible to anyone who saw her as she charged through the hallways of the palace and headed for the gate down to the street. Her mind turned to the idea of sex as a defense, to strip away the emotion. Because there was emotion. There shouldn’t be emotion. But Dulce felt stabbed in a place harder to reach, harder to heal. Maybe impossible to heal. Nasimiyu and the prince were only doing what was normal and their right to do and yet she felt…

It was time to go. Right this moment. There was no one and nothing to stop her. All this time her chains had only been made of loyalty and blackmail, far too weak to hold her. She broke free of them and focused only on the soft taps of her shoes against the stone steps as she took to the staircase leading to the sea wall and away from this cursed place. 

The sea wall would be the most direct path through Priva. She’d calm down by the time she reached the far side of the city and think of what to do and where to go next. Obviously she couldn’t stay here, not even in a city this large, because she’d see them. She didn’t want to be anywhere near them. No Marvono. No Therepin. Sartia? Destin? Maybe Rinsk. Nothing ever fucking happened in Rinsk, but then it would be hard to find work. Maybe she really should go south, find mercenary work instead of assassin work. Drink her way through a lot of money and hack things to death until a blade caught up to her and silenced it all. It wasn’t like there was anything else holding her anywhere for any reason.

Dulce sat heavily on one of the benches looking over the dark sea and let the wave of emotions crest over her head and roll further along without her. It was too much. Living life several steps ahead of emotion left her unprepared for the way feelings tore at her now. She couldn’t name them, couldn’t understand them, just knew that they were there and they were drowning her and she couldn’t endure this. She didn’t want to feel like this. She gripped the edge of the bench and breathed the humid, warm air in deep and tried to sink into the dark waves below, tried to let the loud crash of them breaking against the rocks drown out everything. Tried to match her heartbeat to their steady cadence. It was slow. A large wave broke and then several smaller ones failed to match it until the next large one came along. The noise of it felt like ringing in her ears. 

For a long time she sat there, letting herself be rocked by the sound of the waves. How unfair that Priva had to be on the sea. She liked the sea, she had learned that while living here. There was a sea on the far side of Paloma but she’d never been there. Maybe she ought to. She could go to Sartia to stay by the sea but it would mean dealing with more nobles and frankly she felt on the verge of a murderous rage from which no noble was safe. 

No nobles lived in Paloma. The Paloma sea was colder though, she was pretty sure. Further north. There was something about the sticky heat of this sea that would linger with her. She’d never come here again but she was glad to take this moment and let this feeling drown out everything else. This was what she would try to remember of her time in Priva –not evenings in the kitchen, not an afternoon drinking hot chocolate in an expensive cafe in the city, not ballrooms and ballgowns or longing to join the sparring in the yard or any of it. Fuck this place and all the people here.

She felt the eyes on her later than she ought to have. In a moment she knew someone was watching her and had been for a while. For a brief moment she wondered if it was Nasimiyu or the Prince –more likely to be him because Nasimiyu wouldn’t patiently await acknowledgement, but less likely to be him because why would he come after her? 

Slowly she turned her head to identify who it was. Her hand slid into her skirt for her blade –not the one Nasimiyu had given her, the one she actually preferred– as a hooded figure stepped along the seawall towards her. The person seemed to shy away from the others walking past, leaving a wide berth between themself and the evening strollers. Dulce realized how effectively she had blocked everyone out. The seawall was a popular destination at this time of evening, with the sun only just set. An unlikely place for anyone to threaten her but not impossible.

The woman sat on the bench beside Dulce and shifted the hood of her cloak just enough for Dulce to see her face, soft and nervous and not the least bit threatening. It took a moment longer for her to place where she had seen this person before: in court weeks ago. King Dong-gun had thrown her child and he’d been hurt.

Dulce felt her stomach cramp with the certainty that she was about to learn something she did not want to know.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said by way of introduction. “I’ve been looking for a way to cross paths with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes. You see, I need to get a letter to the prince, and I can’t trust anyone to deliver it for me. You were kind before, when my child was injured, and you are in proximity to him. You serve his fiance, the Princess.”

“Anyone might deliver a letter,” Dulce pointed out. 

“I’ve been trying to catch you for a week,” the woman continued. “I need to be sure the letter gets to him, it’s very important. And… and I have to ask that you don’t read it. It’s for the prince’s eyes only. It’s very important.”

“What makes you think I won’t read the letter the way anyone might? Why me?”

The woman laughed, a sad laugh, and admitted, “I don’t know that. I have to take the risk. I’m desperate.” She held the letter out with a trembling hand. 

“What’s in the letter?”

“I can’t tell you.” The woman hesitated, then added, “I’m trying to keep my children safe. That’s all. I don’t know you and I know you don’t owe me anything, but I’m just a mother trying to keep her children safe.”

Dulce took the letter. She felt the woman’s close study as she tucked it into her pocket.

“I don’t know why you’d trust me,” Dulce admitted, “but I’ll deliver your letter.”

“When my child was hurt, you were the first to move to help.”

“My mistress helped. And the prince.”

“You were the first to move, I saw it. You were the only one to see us out afterwards and ask if my son was all right. You gave my children candy…” Dulce had. She’d swiped it from the kitchen on her way to find the women and her sons before they left the palace that day, hoping the gesture would loosen the woman’s lips and she could understand why King Dong-gun had reacted so strangely at the sight of her. The answer to her questions might very well be in that letter.

“That doesn’t make me a good person. Anyone could read your letter and sell your secrets.”

The woman nodded and closed her eyes. Everything about her seemed a breath away from shattering.

“I know that. I’m begging you not to.”

“I won’t,” Dulce found herself agreeing. “I’ll deliver your letter, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“When?”

“I can leave it in his room tonight,” Dulce suggested. He’s not in there anyway.

“No, no, please hand it to him. I can’t risk that he misses it.”

“All right, I’ll hand it to him tomorrow morning,” Dulce said. Maybe it was a lie. She hadn’t planned on going back to the palace. She’d see what was in the letter and then decide.

“Thank you.” The woman looked like she wanted to say more, her eyes watering and catching the silvery moonlight. She had a beautiful face. Sad, but beautiful. Instead she simply said, “Thank you,” again and then quickly departed.

Dulce didn’t love finding out the woman had been specifically trying to catch her, though in a way she could understand why. Small gestures could have big impacts. She didn’t think anyone had noticed Nasimiyu didn’t move when the child was hurt until Dulce did. Maybe everyone had.

The letter was burning a hole in her pocket now. She wanted to open it but not where the woman would see her, just in case she still watched. Sympathy for the woman cut through her own noisy emotions; curiosity managed the rest. At least it was only herself she had to manage. She couldn’t imagine trying to make it in this world with children. What a curse to have children whom you loved but born into a life in which you couldn’t protect them.

Dulce rose and returned to the palace, where she could be sure of finding a place to read the letter where the woman couldn’t see. The laundry was quiet at night, since the noise would wake the nobles in the nearby wing, so she went there and leaned against the wall to carefully pry up the seal with a candle and the blade of her knife. The fact that the woman had a seal already struck her as odd and she wished she knew anything about the symbol on it.

Inside, the message was simple: Please meet with me on the first day of the sunflower festival by the clock tower. It concerns your brother and the danger you are now in too. Hoya told me to say this if I needed your help: Hoya broke the blue vase.

Dulce read the message again and again and searched the paper but couldn’t make sense of it. This didn’t seem to be about her sons at all. Who was Hoya? Someone they both must have known, someone who had a secret message with Seokjin. It was curious. It made her curious. She liked to be on the knowing side of secrets. But more importantly, this woman seemed to know something about his dead brother and an implication of danger towards the Prince.

Was it about Nasimiyu’s plot? Probably not; Nasimiyu’s family had nothing to do with Seok-ho’s death. Probably there were other plots. Maybe it had to do with the missing bodyguard? Dulce was unsettled about the disappearance, even though it wasn’t any concern of hers. It wasn’t her fault if the prince got himself killed with weak security. Yes, it would lead to a failure of Nasimiyu’s plan but quite frankly, Dulce didn’t care about Nasimiyu’s plan anymore. She hated Nasimiyu. She hated the prince.

She didn’t hate the prince, she was just angry with him. For fucking Nasimiyu? No, no, yes, but no. For fighting Namjoon on her behalf. For making assumptions about her. For not seeing her through the disguise. It was all stupid. She wasn’t drunk but she didn’t want to look closer at it.

What if the brother mentioned was Taehyung, not Seok-ho?

She resealed the letter and shoved it back into her pocket, not sure whether to deliver it. Maybe if she didn’t, the prince would get killed and Nasimiyu’s plan would be ruined. 

But the prince would be killed.

But he was going to get killed anyway, no matter what.

But she didn’t want to be around to see it.

She went to her room. She’d grab her things and leave and decide at the last minute whether to deliver the letter. The servants’ dorms were mostly quiet at this time of night; she had only the faintest light to work by. She dragged out her bag and packed as quietly as she could. The last thing she needed was someone waking up and asking where she was going and why. Abandoning her post would bring some of them joy but they wouldn’t want her to get away without trouble.

She needed to lift her mattress to get a few things from beneath it –nothing valuable, because that was the most obvious place to look, but things that looked sentimental, so she’d look like a normal maid if anyone did snoop. A little hedgehog, for example. 

When she crouched to lift it though, she noticed a book sitting on the foot of her bed. Book four of the Kalamouche series. She knew who it was from the instant her fingers brushed the title. Who else would send her a copy of this book? She’d already read this one, but he didn’t know that because the last time it had briefly come up in the kitchen, she’d only admitted to reading two and three.

The note fell out as she opened the front cover: 

I’m sorry. 

Dulce felt an uncomfortable throb in her chest. I’m sorry.

For what?

When had he sent this here? It was him, she would have recognized his handwriting from the papers on his desk, he was the only one this made sense for. Even if it didn’t make sense. Was he sorry about fighting Namjoon? Or sorry for thinking she was some young, unsexed, innocent child? Or sorry for airing her affair in the middle of a courtyard for all to hear? 

Or sorry to be caught in bed with her mistress, his fiance?

It couldn’t be the last one. Really it couldn’t be any of them. What did he mean, sending her this stupid book with this stupid little unsigned note? A prince had no business apologizing to a maid. A prince had no business giving a gift to a maid. How dare he? How dare he act like this and be so stupid and make her so confused and make it so difficult for her to leave?

She couldn’t leave.

She slumped against her bed and closed her eyes, the book clutched in her lap alongside the hedgehog from that day in the city. Usually it was in her pocket but she had shoved it under the mattress after they’d argued in the kitchen, as a show of her anger that no one would see but herself. 

I’m sorry too, she allowed the words to form in her mind, the letter she would write if things were different. I’m sorry that I let myself get too close to you. I’m sorry that you were born into this life you don’t seem to want and that you will always be in danger for the rest of it. I’m sorry that you don’t get to wander the city and enjoy the mundane things in life the way you want to. I’m sorry that you are going to marry Nasimiyu and she will never be the woman you deserve. I’m sorry that you’re so stupid you’d fight your cousin for my honor or dignity or safety or whatever noble idea you had. I’m sorry that I am not who you think I am, I have lied to you every day I’ve been here, but I’m sorry that some truth snuck through too and you were tricked into believing that was all of me. I’m sorry that I came here to help you along to your death. I’m sorry that even though it won’t be me, someone else will do it instead, because you weren’t born with the venom and claws you need to survive.

But it won’t be me that does it.

She wished she could write a letter to Nasimiyu, too, but then it would give everything away. I’m sorry, Simi, but you are never going to be queen.

Dulce tucked the hedgehog back into her pocket, alongside the letter, alongside the other letters she had sewn into the foot of the mattress and now tugged free –the ones Seokjin had written to his betrothed. She wouldn’t read them. She didn’t want to. Instead she would sneak them back into his room tomorrow, and then she would give him the letter from the woman with the sons, and then she would find whatever it took to unequivocally expose Prince Hamisi and the Marvonese family’s treason to King Dong-gun and Prince Seokjin.

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