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snicketstrange · 2 months ago

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Untie My Silence Knot -Chapter 10 - Lemony, you are so finished.

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Algernon Charles Swinburne.

If you are interested in reading a story with a happy ending, I'm sorry for you. I also apologize to you for just alerting you in the last chapter. This was not a story that had a happy beginning, nor did it have a happy ending, let alone have happy things during the middle of it. However, nothing is so bad that it can't be made worse, so I would say this is a story about how I can prevent something worse from happening.

I could begin with an unfortunate recording made by a device hidden in a fireproof tea utensil. Or I could put in this chapter just one document I found inside a top hat that was stored in a secret submerged library. Or I could describe the report of a certain specialist who is a friend of Lemony Snicket. Instead, I'm going to start this chapter by describing my meeting with a certain person at the Cafe where I work.

The person in question was draped in a crimson shawl, its edges adorned with long, delicate feathers that seemed to flutter with each subtle movement. The person had ordered a black and bitter coffee. I realized that the person had a large female handbag that should fit a lot of mysterious things. The person was sitting in the most private part of the Cafe, exactly where I had attended the meeting where I got Lemony Snicket's unauthorized autobiography. A few minutes passed, and a man with an overcoat and a hat entered the Cafe. He looked concerned. He sat on the counter, next to the barista. I went to take his order quickly. He ordered a root beer float. Meanwhile, the person with the long shawl called for a waiter. I saw the person delivering something to him. I handed the man the root beer float in his overcoat and quickly intercepted the waiter.

"I don’t know why I had to disguise myself as a waiter", Lisa murmured with a hint of frustration, "when I could have been a waitress instead."

I smiled at her.

Do you think it has already taken effect? - I asked Lisa.

You read the book … Are you controlling the time?

Yes, I am.

So I went to the table where the person with the shawl was sitting. The person looked at me with make-up eyes and a mouth with bright red lipstick.

Who are you? - The person asked me.

My name is Beatrice Baudelaire. - I replied looking into the person's eyes.

It's a pleasure to meet someone who has the same name as me. It's quite a coincidence.

I don't think it's a coincidence. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny gave me these names in honor of their mother. - I saw a flicker of surprise cross the person's face, their lips twitching slightly.

I would love to understand how this happened, miss, but I need to meet that gentleman who is sitting right there.

Was your coffee bitter enough? - I asked.

The person stared at the cup, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Today you will only meet with me. And tomorrow, when the effect of the tea I added to your coffee is over, you'll meet the police.

What are you talking about? - The person tried to get up and move his arms and failed.

"Botanical Poisons and Their Applications." I found a copy of this book in the last library I was in. Also, when I first arrived in the City, I was at Mr. Snicket's apartment. From there I spotted a lot in which there were several unusual plants. I realized that there had been a fire in that place at some point in the past. Only when I spent more time in the city I realized that the Royal Gardens were there. And by the force of fate, the plants that rose from the ashes were the ones that stayed in the Poisonous Pavilion. I was there, and I collected some of the plants that I made the tea you drank mixed with your coffee. One of the plants causes progressive paralysis, and the other makes you more susceptible to just telling the truth.

Lemony …

Lemony is right there, I know … He's not going anywhere. Soon he will feel a strange sleep and will take a nap right there where he is sitting. When he wakes up, he and I will have a long conversation. But now, it's our turn to talk. And you're going to clear him of the charge of being an arsonist.

I took out my electronic recording device, which was in my pocket. I pressed the REC key.

I'll tell you a story. And you're just going to confirm or deny what I'm saying. The person's eyes glazed over, their voice flat and emotionless, as if trapped in a hypnotic trance. I now understood how Dr. Orwell must feel.

Your real name is Bertrand Baudelaire,’ I said, watching his eyes for a flicker of recognition. ‘You killed a woman named Violetta. Am I right?’ His gaze faltered.

Yes. "You set fire to the Baudelaire mansion and made the authorities think it was Lemony Snicket." Am I right?

Yes.

You pretended to be Beatrice Baudelaire and Kit Snicket to lure Lemony Snicket into a trap, am I right?

I continued to ask Bertrand several questions. He confirmed them all. I could have handed Lemony the original recording showing what exactly happened that day. But I know it would be too sad for him.

Now that time has passed, and I know that Lemony will no longer be able to read this, I can explain it to you, dear reader.

I found page 9 of the Snicket File, which you must have read before getting here. (Unless you have a bad habit of reading the final chapters of a book before reading the opening chapters).

The time I spent in the submerged library was well used by me. What I read from Beatrice's words made me certain: she certainly died on the day when her house was set on fire. After all, she loved her children very much, and she would never have left them in such a difficult situation if she were alive.

Then I realized something very important … One of the reasons that Beatrice sought Violetta was because she wanted a doctor capable of lying. The question was, "Lying to whom?" The answer was more bitter than I could have imagined, and I only discovered it when I found the book Botanical Poisons and Their Applications. According to the book, Conium maculatum is a poison with no known antidotes.

Beatrice wanted Violetta to lie to Beatrice herself. She was trying to kill herself but started acting like she was trying to fake her death.

It should be easier for her to engage her subconscious.

Everything was going on like a play. After searching a lot, I found a recording of what happened in the last few minutes before the fire. The recording was not complete, unfortunately. But two voices were perfectly heard. A male voice and a female voice.

She's dead, Bertrand … She told me what she was going to do and that's why I came here.

It can not be! We just sent the kids to the beach, because Lemony was due to get here today! How am I going to face the kids?

Bertrand, she wanted me to take care of you.

You what?

She wanted it, Bertrand!

Why did not you tell me? I could have stopped her! I loved her!

She loved you too, Bertrand! And so she didn't want children to be without a mother. I can be an excellent mother to them. Because I love you, and I will love them.

Violetta, go away. Before I do anything very wrong.

The recording sound was bad and I didn't hear the next few minutes. But then the recording went back to work. Violetta seemed to be screaming.

You forced me to do that Bertrand! I was going to leave you in happy ignorance!

What is it?

Do you remember when you wanted to have a third child? But the years passed and Beatrice did not get pregnant again at all. You started to believe that there was something wrong with either of you or both. And you two did medical tests.

Yes, I remember that. But what does this have to do with …

I forged your exams, Bertrand! Because Beatrice was already pregnant at that time, you no longer needed to know the truth.

What are you talking about?

Here is the real result … Do you see here, what is written? "Congenital" is a word that here means that she has betrayed you and none of those children are yours!

Again the recording was bad. When it returned I heard only male screams and the sound of things falling and breaking. Bertrand confirmed to me that he started the fire after hitting Violetta with the fireplace poker. Bertrand hid in the secret tunnel during the fire, taking some supplies, Beatrice's clothes and his clothes, his favorite books, the pot of the poisonous plant that had killed Beatrice, and some documents. Violleta had spoken before she died about how Beatrice intended to get the poisonous plant. So, after a few days, Bertrand also set fire to the Royal Gardens.

He made Lemony's letter, stating that he was about to arrive, end up in the hands of law enforcement officials. The poisonous plant was left in the secret tunnel, and Jacques Snicket found it. When Bertrand finally fell asleep, Lisa and I tied his hands and feet and took him to the basement.

I returned in time to sit down at the table and analyze the handbag. Bertrand was carrying a dart thrower. He would probably kill Lemony Snicket right thereafter confronting him. He carried several letters. These were the letters he had taken from Beatrice's brother. Of course, he already knew how to disguise himself as his wife, being able to deceive his brother-in-law and take the letters into his hands. When Bertrand realized that he had not managed to get Lemony killed at the hands of the judicial authorities, Bertrand tried to kill Lemony with his bare hands. He made Lemony believe that Beatrice was still alive and lured him to the Duchess of Winnipeg's mansion. The poor Duchess must have been murdered after she wrote that letter in Lemony's unauthorized autobiography. She knew too much. Or maybe it was Bertrand who wrote that letter … I never ended up asking him that. In any case, Lemony stayed out of the country for many years, but when he returned Bertrand initiated his plan to attract and kill Lemony. He wrote letters pretending to be my mother and pretending to be Beatrice Baudelaire, just like I decided to do. But he thought about it before I did, and in fact, now I realize that I unconsciously saw his plan in progress and ended up finding a good plan and copying it. (Of course, I wanted to attract Lemony by pretending to be people he loved who were dead, not to kill him, but to talk to him.) I cannot say that I fully understand Bertrand's attitude. I don't think he dressed like Beatrice just so he could get back at Lemony. I think he was trying to keep her alive somehow. And now I understand that my research is somewhat similar to his attitude.

Finally Lemony woke up. Lisa handed him the card Bertrand had written. Lemony came to the table. And then we had a long and pleasant conversation.

So you are my niece? This is a difficult story to believe.

Well, I brought some books and some writings that were found with me on a beach. Here are Sunny, Klaus, and Violet's commonplace books. They guided me for many years. Lemony took the books and turned each page carefully. I didn't tell him about Bertrand Baudelaire. The recording I made was forwarded to the police, and the following afternoon Bertrand Baudelaire was arrested. Lemony never knew these details, but he did know he was cleared. He believed me that night. And I could see that he felt happy and sad at the same time when he met me.

So you wrote all those letters?

Yes, it was me.

But some letters don't make sense … Some letters seem to have references to letters I had written for Violet's mother many years ago. How could you know? I reached out and handed him the package of letters that Bertrand had brought.

I ended up finding this on some of my trips. I'm sorry for cheating you. Lemony took the letters, and I saw a nostalgic expression on his face.

Why didn't you sign some of the letters but others did you?

I'm sorry for that. Are my letters there with you? Lemony took several letters out of his overcoat. Bertrand did not sign the letters he sent to Lemony. Unlike Beatrice, he did not learn to forge signatures. I signed in front of him.

Okay, now you have letters from Beatrice and letters to Beatrice.

Lemony took a letter from the middle of the set. It was a huge letter, with a large ring-shaped mark, from someone who placed a container of drinks on the letter sheet without using a coaster.

Something doesn't make sense, Beatrice. This letter contains the answers to 12 of 13 questions that Beatrice once asked me. But I know that this letter never reached her hands because she let me write it. How did that letter reach your hands? And if you had that letter, why did you write it in one of the letters that still had 12 questions for me to answer?

Does everything have to make sense for you? If you tell me where my foster parents are, I will tell you the secret of that letter.

He smiled sadly. I didn't know what the secret of that letter was. But Bertrand was the one who intercepted that letter and had never discussed it with Beatrice. Was that why he had been so jealous and insecure about the proof that Lemony was alive?

I never knew Beatrice, where your adoptive parents are right now. But, if you're here and they never found you …

Do not say that.

They would never leave you alone, would they? Not for so long… I found something in my research on the Baudelaire case. Something very sad and I took a picture. It was a picture of a vessel that belonged to the Baudelaires, called Beatrice. And Beatrice sank.

I asked to see the photograph, and he also took that photograph from inside the overcoat.

I smiled through tears. It represented something that I remembered.

They must have made an improvised vessel with the few books that were on the vessel. And then they decided to save you, Beatrice.

He started to cry and so did I. And he was right. I think I always knew, after all. But now I had a photograph. And looking at the picture, in my heart, I could say "thanks" and "goodbye".

But you said in one of the letters that they had recently separated from you, didn't you?

I could not say that this was a big lie by an impostor who wanted to make Lemony believe that the Baudelaires were also alive and that they had met with their mother to attract and kill him.

Yes it's true.

Maybe they are out there looking for you, and they never found you because you were always traveling from place to place. If you stay here, they may find you someday.

Yes - I said through tears.

And if you stay here, I can always find you too.

Lisa approached the table. She was listening to everything.

It's true, Beatrice. Just because you're an orphan doesn't mean you have no family. I am your family now. And now you've met three uncles.

One of them is an arsonist …

Lemony said:

Even Ernest values the family. He would never hurt Dewey's daughter. And who knows, you can help him find his way back to nobility.

I was grateful for that. Now it was my turn to give back to Lemony.

Would you like to say goodbye to her? - I asked.

To say goodbye to whom?

Beatrice Baudelaire. Not me, the other one.

What are you talking about?

I know where she must be. But to prove it, I need some samples of her hair or nails.

The only "hair sample" I had I returned to her, along with this letter that you don't want to explain to me how you owned it. When I heard that, I opened Bertrand's handbag and found that. Lemony refused to ask me any more questions about how strange it was and realized that some things were better left in the great unknown.

After a few days, Lemony and I arrived at the laboratory of a skeleton specialist who was Lemony's friend. I had read about that woman in TSS. In Beatrice's will, she asked to be buried in one of Mount Fraught's caves without a headstone. It was a cave especially full of bats. I had been there, and I knew where it was. Lemony wrote that she had found many bones in that region, and I deduced that some of the bones were from Beatrice. He and I held hands when the doctor confirmed that the bones belonged to the owner of that hair. We cry and hug.

Finally Lemony had found Beatrice.

I asked him to send me a photo of the cave where he would ensure that it was buried again. Violetta's bones were also buried there, mistaken for Bertrand's bones. Mr. Poe made sure that no one else knew where the alleged couple had been buried, according to the instructions in the will.

Soon I will also need to climb those mountains to fulfill a promise I made to my uncle. I will take a sugar bowl with me and stick it on that cave with a small inscription: "B and L - Love Conquers Nearly Everything."

#asoue fic #asoue fanfic #untie my silence knot #asoue theories #lemony snicket #asoue theory #beatrice baudelaire #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #snicketverse #the beatrice letters

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orangepanic · 11 months ago

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Zhu Li Moon agreeing to marry her unscrupulous employer Iknik Varrick wasn’t even the worst part of the wedding. Nor was it being dogged by Prince Wu, who insisted on telling Iroh again all about his heroic actions during the Battle of Republic City and how much more useful they’d been than anything the United Forces had managed to do. As if everyone from here to Ba Sing Se wasn’t already aware. Nor was it the fact that Iroh had come alone to an event intended to celebrate the happy unions of couples. He’d only been in the United Republic a little over a month and had spent what felt like all of his waking hours since then at work. Though the United Forces may not have seen action in the battle with General Kuvira’s forces there was seemingly no end to the demand for Iroh’s troops now that half of Republic City was in ruins. It wasn’t so unusual then that he hadn’t had time to identify a date. Even if wandering around the celebration solo was a tad lonely.

No; the worst part of the wedding was Avatar Korra.

He’d only heard the comment by chance. Iroh had been walking past one of Air Temple Island’s many pavilions when he’d heard voices on the other side of a hedge. The first he recognized instantly. Pema had been a close family friend for as long as she’d been married to Tenzin; Iroh had even stayed with them when he’d first arrived in the city before he’d found his own long-term accommodations.

“Oh, there must be somebody here that strikes your fancy,” she said in a teasing tone. “You’re both such pretty girls. Not that looks are everything. But it’s been a hard year for everybody. You two deserve a little love and fun now that we have peace again.”

“Well, maybe there’s someone.” Korra’s voice.

“We’re still figuring it out.” Iroh didn’t recognize the second woman as easily, but she sounded familiar. Asami Sato, maybe?

“You’re not fighting over Mako again, are you?” asked Pema, confirming his guess.

A laugh. “Definitely not,” Asami said.

“Hmm. You’re going to make me guess then. It sounds like someone you both know. Bolin is taken. There aren’t that many other young folks here. Wu doesn’t seem like either of your type.”

“No way,” said Korra. “And you don’t need to guess. We’ll tell you another time.”

“Wait, I’ve got it! That man from the band. The one who used to be a pro-bender.”

Someone made a retching nose. Iroh smiled. He didn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but it was also nice to know he wasn’t the only one who’d come to the wedding alone. That was, until…

“General Iroh.”

Iroh’s breath caught in his throat. Him?

“Oh gosh, never,” said Korra. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

“Really?” Asami’s voice. “I like General Iroh. I mean, not like that, but you know. He always seemed nice.”

“That’s because you don’t know him,” Korra replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Iroh, too, and he’s real hot when he wants to be, but Asami he’s got to be the most boring man on the planet. Trust me, I’ve known him since I was a kid. All he likes are books and maps and dead languages and fusty old museum exhibits and going to work. I don’t think he’s even been to a pro-bending match. He’s nice to look at but sheesh, the most interesting thing about him is his collection of teas. Which he organizes by region in his cabinet.”

“That’s a little harsh,” said Pema. “I like to think of Iroh as more of an old spirit in a young man’s body. Tenzin was the same way at his age. It’s endearing.”

“Well, you’re welcome to him,” said Korra, but Iroh was already walking away. He’d heard enough.

#tlok #fanfic #snippet

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ssparksflyy · 8 months ago

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could you do a percy jackson/leo valdez angst with happy ending fic based on you belong with me by taylor?? Like uhmm an unrequited love in the beginning and by then end its a best friends to lovers or bestfriends to enemies to lovers kind of trope?? (preferably leo but you can do whichever character you want to)

Tyy<3

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

you belong with me ! 𐙚๋࣭⭑⋅˚♡.

pairing: leo valdez x gn!reader warning(s): swearin, turn off ur feminism and crank up some girlfriend by avril lavigne, semi-angst, stupid w love, corny 2010 teenage love ♡ word count: 3k ( LIKE ON THE DOT BABY I WAS LIKE OOOO ) a/n: hiii! tysm for requesting, this was soooo cute nd fun to write :)) also if you end up asking yourself, "is this that one girl in the ybwm music video that taylor just wore a wig for??" no, its becky.

there was nobody in the world you'd known better than leo.

you'd been through everything together. through foster homes, the wilderness school, jason's quest, the war with gaea, and even now, after all that chaos, you still had each other.

you were sure you could make it through anything together, there was nothing you two couldn't beat.

except for this stupid aphrodite girl.

growing up, not a lot of girls really noticed leo, but he noticed them. he always had some new 'crush' that he was gushing about, telling you about how pretty or smart she was and blah blah blah. every time he would come to you, talking about his new crush who was for sure going to reject him, you'd just sit there. nodding your head, smiling, and trying to push down the heartbreak that came with each new girl.

you'd had a crush on leo since you were kids, but were always too scared to say something, scared that he didn't feel the same, and you would lose the person closest to you.

so you stayed quiet. you'd listen to him ramble about his new crush and then make him laugh when you knew he was about to cry over falling for yet another girl who didn't feel the same for him.

you could tell he was tired of being alone, romantically. all your friends had partners, and they always looked so happy. neither you nor leo could help but long for that same feeling and happiness.

so when little miss perfect becky brown came waltzing into his life, with her little crush, it was no surprise leo gave in.

they weren't dating, no, just awfully close. a little too close for your liking. you didn't want to be an asshole, it wasn't like leo belonged to you or anything, but you were friends, and he was beginning to spend less and less time with you and more and more time with becky.

they would walk into the dining pavilion together for breakfast and dinner, sitting at the edge of the hephaestus and aphrodite tables so they were able to talk to each other, but still follow camp rules. they would sit next to each other at the campfire, leo helping her make a s'more. you would see them hanging around camp together, talking and laughing.

you hardly spent time with leo now. wherever becky went, he wouldn't be far behind, trailing after her. she had your best friend ( and crush but whatever ) wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.

you were undeniably jealous. there was no point in fighting it because it was true. you were jealous that this perfect girl stole your best friend right from you. and that was true!!!! it wasn't like she was some innocent angel who did no wrong, no. you knew she didn't like you. you knew because when you would finally have the chance to talk to leo, she would always come swoop in, stealing him away for gods know why. once she had him up and following her, she'd turn back around and flash you an evil grin. you'd be left there, glaring at them as they walked away, feeling more and more hopeless every time it happened.

you could see why leo liked her, she was gorgeous, like any child of aphrodite. she was also nothing like you. you found yourself comparing yourself to her quite often, actually.

you'd find yourself looking back and forth between you two, comparing yourselves. becky didn't follow camp's dress code, she'd wear all the short skirts, tank tops, and high heels ( she didn't care that they were impractical ) she wanted. while you were stuck in your bright orange camp half-blood t-shirt that you always had to tie because you somehow always got the wrong size and beat-up sneakers that you needed to replace soon. it was no wonder leo would ditch you for her, next to her, you thought you looked like a wreck.

but that still wasn't enough to shake the heartbreak. you still had hope. hope that just maybe he'd ditch becky for you. hope that you would find the courage to finally confess to him. hope that becky would one day get lost in the woods and never ever come back.

you watched as leo and becky talked from the hephaestus and aphrodite tables once again tonight, keeping your eyes glued to them and just barely picking at your food. your siblings eventually managed to catch your attention and began to include you into their conversation. just as you were laughing at one of your sister's jokes you swore you could hear a 'hey! what're you looking at? im over here, not at the (g/p) table!' come from the direction you were once staring at. you decided to brush it off though, more interested in catching up with your siblings than whatever you thought you heard.

after dinner, you sat next to your siblings during the campfire, an empty space next to you. you were having a good time, continuing to laugh and sing along to the songs being played until you felt someone sit next to you.

you drew your attention away from the fire and looked over at the person sitting next to you. it was leo, his classic million-dollar smile on his face.

you didn't know how to feel. you didn't know if you should tell him to go back to becky, to be mad at him for not talking to you, to be glad he was finally acknowledging you or to just ignore him.

before you could decide what to do leo looked down awkwardly and said, "hey um... im sorry i haven't talked to you in a while, i guess i got caught up in other.. things.." he began fiddling with his hands, something he only did while nervous.

you gave him a small smile and put your hand on top of his. you weren't completely happy with him, he was the one who stopped talking to you. but in the moment you were just glad to have your best friend back.

"it's ok, just glad you still know i exist" you joked, he wasn't getting off the hook that easily.

"of course i still know you exist (n/n)! why and how could i ever forget? you know you come first." he said, bumping your shoulder softly.

you couldn't help but laugh. at any other time, you would completely believe what he was saying but now, you couldn't help but doubt him a little. you continued to talk and joke around ( even flirted a little but hey ), just like old times. sitting there with leo made you feel happier than you had felt in the past few weeks. spending time with leo made you realize how easy things were with him. he was your other half, everything you did just fit. talking with him was so easy, he laughed at all your jokes, and you laughed at his. you hadn't realized how much you missed his smile. you loved his toothy grin that could light up a whole town if he smiled big enough.

the fire in front of you only continued to rise as you laughed and talked together, mirroring your moods. your peace, however, was interrupted by your good ol' friend, becky.

"leo! there you are! im so sorry, i got caught up helping my sister with something" she said, sitting next to him, grabbing his bicep, "we can go now though!"

"its ok..." leo said awkwardly, looking down before he looked back up at you, "i actually wanted to spend time with (y/n) right now"

you gave him a melted smile, but looked back at becky who was giving you a venom-laced glare.

"but you said you'd go to the lake with me!! remember?" she whined, holding onto his arm tighter.

"i actually don't, but we can go tomorrow! besides, its dark right now and almost time for curfew-" he began, looking back at her.

"oh come on leo! let's go!" she said, her voice raising.

leo, no surprise, got up and followed her to the lake.

but there was something off about the way she spoke that last line.. something about it almost made you get up and follow her to the lake. it was as if your body was following her demands, and you had no way to control it. that's when it hit you. she was using her charmspeak.

could that be why leo was following her around? did she actually have him wrapped around her finger? was she using him against his will?

these thoughts and more flooded your brain as the apollo cabin finished up the last song for the evening, signaling everybody to head back to their cabins. you got up and followed your siblings back to your cabin in silence, trying to process what you had just realized.

that night, you could hardly sleep. you were tossing and turning all night, your mind racing with questions, prohibiting you from sleep. eventually, you turned over to your nightstand, checking the time on your alarm clock. 2:41 am. dear gods, you did need sleep. you finally decided to just shut off all your thoughts. not one thing crossed your mind as you shut your eyes tightly, finally allowing hypnos to take you under.

the next morning when you woke, you had a personal quest that you needed to complete. you needed to find out as much about becky as you could, hopefully answering at least some of the questions you had.

seeing them together at breakfast only fueled you more.

all day, during your lessons you went around trying to find out as much about becky as you could. you asked her siblings, friends, and anybody who you thought could tell you anything about her.

turns out, becky didn't have very loyal siblings and friends.

all you had to do was casually drop her name into a conversation and the secrets began to spill.

you found out that using her charmspeak on leo wasnt even the worse thing she'd done. most of their conversation were actually being led with her charmspeak. she had to use it to even convince him to talk to her for so long. she began acting differently, her personality shifting whenever he was around. you see, dear becky was yet to complete her rite of passage, so what did she do? she cornered the most helpless romantic in camp and was spending weeks trying to get him to fall in love with her.

you almost felt sorry for her, the way she had to use her charmspeak just to get a guy who falls for anyone to even talk to her... nah, who were you kidding? she was using your best friend for some stupid rite of passage, you couldn't hate her more.

while learning new things about becky definetly answered some of you questions, the new information left you feeling confused. you still had questions, ones that becky herself probably couldn't even answer, but you mostly just felt awkward. unsure of what to do next. should you tell leo? there was no doubt he probably had a small crush on her before, but did he still have that crush now? if you told him, how would he react? would he think you're making things up? would he believe you? even if he did believe you, was he really going to confront becky? would becky put up an argument? who's side would he take? questions and possible solutions flooded your mind through dinner. you meant to talk to leo again at the campfire, maybe get an idea on how he felt, and then move forward from there, but before you could even call his name before becky dragged him off to the lake again.

you didn't want to follow them, you couldn't. if you did, would what you saw make you regret it? you didn't want to run the risk, so you stayed at the campfire. you tried to distract yourself by singing along and making s'mores with your siblings but truthfully, you couldn't wait to go to bed and have time to think.

when the campfire ended, you were first in bed in your cabin. your mind just functioned better at night while in bed, and that's what you needed at the moment. you spent hours listening to the pouring rain outside and coming up with possible scenarios, each having its own ending. you tossed and you turned, lost in thought until you finally couldn't take it anymore. if you didn't tell leo about becky's plan, it'd eat you alive. so you got up, put on your shoes, and scurried over to cabin nine.

zeus had to be completely against you seeing leo because it was raining buckets when you stepped outside. you grumbled when you realized you'd forgotten a sweater, but you were already outside, why go back in? going back in meant you had time to reconsider your decision and leave leo to find out by himself. the longer you saw him with becky, knowing what she was planning, the more torture it was for yourself. you sucked up the fact that you'd have to get wet and ran over to the hephaestus cabin.

lucky for you, leo's bunk was located in the back of the cabin. if you knew anything about your best friend it was that he was not one to fall asleep early, and early meaning before midnight. so instead of knocking on the cabin's front door and waking up one of his siblings to get him, all you had to do was head to the back of the cabin, where he had snuck you in before, and knock gently on the door.

you took a step back and it was only a matter of seconds before leo opened the door, confused look on his face he asked, "(y/n)? what're you doing here?"

you took a deep breath in before beginning, "ok, i know you may not believe me, but I really need you to hear me out a-and consider what im saying, okay? i was talking to one of the aphrodite girls about.. becky.. and she told me that she's trying to get her rite of passage and she's planning to get it from you. i'm not saying this to try and hurt you leo, but if that is true then i don't want you to find out after its done, okay? i care about you, and if i have to watch-"

"(y/n)" he said.

"-you go through that, i just know it won't be like those other times. i know you dont want to experience it again and i don't want to see you heartbroken again-"

"(y/n)"

but you wouldn't stop. the words kept spilling out of your mouth, trying to 'warn' leo of becky's plan. he needed to get your attention somehow, and he didn't like yelling at you so...

he kissed you.

something in him made him surge forward, cupping your face and connecting your lips. he didn't care if he was getting soaked from the rain, he was finally kissing you, something he'd wanted to do for years, and you were actually kissing him back.

you were the one to break away, breathless, staring at leo with both admiration and confusion in your eyes.

"i know about becky's rite of passage." he stated, taking your hands in his, "she told me earlier, well, not really. she just told me that she really liked me and i told her that i didn't feel the same, and then she went batshit crazy, calling me useless and stuff but eh, whatever."

"oh.." you said, processing what he just said, "wait- you didn't feel the same??"

he simply nodded and smiled, "no, no i didn't. but i think she helped me realize something." he said and paused, quickly looking down then back up, "i really, really like you, (y/n). and not just as friends. its almost like... being forced to be away from you just confirmed that i need you, and i can hardly live without you. when becky was forcing me to spend time with her, all i could think about is you, and how much i like you. you've always been there for me, even helping my slut self through problems with other girls and i'm so sorry i didn't realize before how good you are to me. i completely get it if you don't feel the same, but i just really need you to know how much i appreciate you. i can finally see that you're the only person who really knows me. you get me like nobody else does, you understand me. i trust you with everything, and you're the best thing i could ever ask for. im so sorry it took me so long to see that."

leo's words felt like a weight was being lifted off of your chest. your feelings weren't one-sided. he didn't just see you as a friend. he liked you back. like- romantically! you couldn't help yourself, you sprang up and quickly kissed him, raising your hand to the back of his neck.

"gods, i really really like you too leo. good to know it isn't just machines in that head of yours." you said, laughing as you moved your foreheads together.

leo's light up grin was back again, "can't you see, baby? you belong with me~"

you groaned, pushing him away, "that was so bad, please dont ever do that again."

he laughed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back in. your faces were close once again, lips aching to connect again.

"so (y/n/n)," leo began, a sweet smile on his face, "do me the honors of being my girlfriend?"

you let out a small laugh, "of course, repair boy. i thought you'd never ask."

you smiled as he kissed you once again.

a/n pt. 2: i kinda hate this but wtv <3 its 5am, i'm tired, i will edit this when i wake up, have a good day / night ily all sm ♡

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson ♡

#percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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studioahead · 1 year ago

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Curator Spotlight: Lawrence Rinder

One of the joys of writing this journal is not just talking to creative people across Northern California, but visiting them. Recently we spent an amazing day with Lawrence Rinder at his ranch in Ukiah. The ranch is what you might expect from a curator known for exhilarating (and sometimes controversial) exhibitions—we were surprised at every turn. Weeks later, we're still not sure what our favorite part was: Linder's hospitality, the collaborate quilt project done on a Travis Meinholf loom (the "Johnny Appleseed of loom makers" according to our host), or the fact that hidden away in the Ukiah valley is a small artistic paradise. But we’ll let the pictures do the talking. And Rinder, who is as eloquent as ever.

Studio AHEAD: What brought you to Ukiah?

Lawrence Rinder: Back in the 90s, when I was a curator at the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, I used to take weekend trips to the country. One of my favorite places to go was Orr Hot Springs. I came to believe that the hills around Orr Springs Road are one of the most beautiful places in the world. So, when a property came up for sale, right across from the hot springs, I looked into buying it. That place was unaffordable, but it started me on a search for a little piece of land to own. About seven years later, in 2004, I was sitting at my desk at the Whitney Museum in New York when an email arrived from the agent I’d been working with in Ukiah. She’d sent just a few photos of the McNab Ranch property, but her message was clear: this is the place you’ve been looking for and, if you want it, you have to make a full-price offer today. So, I did. A few months later, I left the Whitney and moved back to California to live at the top of this wonderful mountain.

SA: The ranch has become a creative hub of sorts for visiting artists. Does the creative activity at the ranch intersect with your work as a curator?

LR: When I first got the place, it was meant to be a refuge, a place to heal after all the craziness of New York. I spent a year up here more or less alone. That was a big change for me, living so remotely. At first it was a little scary. I really had no idea about how to do anything. And I was afraid of monsters at night, LOL Then I met my partner, Colter, and that helped. But what really brought the place to life and gave it much of the character it has today is a result of inviting two artists to come visit: Jesse Schlesinger and David Wilson. I met Jesse when he was an undergrad at CCA and I was director of the Wattis Institute. For the graduation exhibition, he had installed a little pavilion made of wood that he called The Sun House. I asked him if I could buy it and have installed up here in Ukiah. Jesse set it up in a beautiful corner of the property that we call the Sacred Grove. That piece woke up for me the idea that this could be a place for art.

David Wilson arrived at about the same time. He had been organizing amazing festivals, at places like Angel Island and Tilden Park. He’d invite artists, musicians, craft people, all kinds of wonderful folks and the thing would just sort of happen organically over many hours, sometimes even over several days. So, Colter and I invited him to do something like that up here. Liz Harris performed at night while people were arriving, and you could hear her trippy sounds all across the valley. Paul Clipson screened films on a sheet that had been hung up in the forest. Jerome Waag cooked an enormous paella and roasted a whole wild boar underground for a whole day and night. Gautam Ganeshan performed a morning raga. And so much more. People camped in various spots all over the property. We did a few more of those, and I came to enjoy the feeling of having people around and loved how inspired folks were by the land.

So, we started to have people come up for informal creative residencies. Basically, anyone who asked could come, for as long as they wanted. Sometimes, we didn’t even know who would be up here when we arrived for the weekend. It was a wonderful balance to the more regimented outcome-based administrative work I was doing at BAMPFA, where I had returned as director in 2008. We even built a few more spaces for people to live during their time here: the Forest House, Garden House, and Studio. Now, thanks to Nobuto Suga, we also have a barn with a lovely upstairs writing studio/sleeping loft.

SA: The entire set up is stunning One of our favorites was Paul Discoe-designed “peasant house,” which got us thinking about the role of architecture in curating an exhibition.

LR: The Paul Discoe house was designed, in the style of a ninth-century Japanese farmer’s house (with a few nods to modern times like glass windows and a metal roof), to serve as a little schoolhouse. It has a library, a classroom, and a bedroom for the visiting teacher. Since COVID, it’s been more used a guest house, but I hope we get back to having classes there again soon. The house was initially built as a class project with a group of fifteen people including Colter, Jay Nelson, Andria Lessler, Kanoa Zimmerman, Terri Loewenthal and others. Jesse Schlesinger was the project director. Paul taught every aspect of designing and building in the traditional Japanese manner. They spent the first two months sharpening their tools! Ultimately, the project took six years and involved over two hundred people, basically everyone who came to visit during that time leant a hand in some way or other. Some of the classes we have had in the building are contemporary dance (with Marie Blaise), Japanese woodcarving, flamenco, and conversational Spanish.

As it happened the period of working on the Discoe house coincided almost exactly with my work on the new BAMPFA building, designed by Diller, Scofidio + Renfro. During the week I’d be conceptualizing visitor flow, gallery dimensions, and HVAC systems; and on the weekend, I’d be stomping clay for our TsuchiKabe walls. It was a good balance, mental and physical ways of building. Each project was designed with very different creative aims. BAMPFA was made intentionally non-linear, with a variety of spaces, and occasional bright colored walls to inspire attention and surprise. The Discoe house was made without plumbing or electricity so it would be completely silent and calm, with windows placed to limit direct light, and every element handmade with care to inspire thoughtfulness and loving awareness. Each building was intended to be an engine of creativity, but in very different contexts, one urban-academic and the other for small gatherings in a natural setting.

SA: We love how, even in your leisure time, you are still thinking, interacting with art and artists. What is one exhibition of yours that you feel was misunderstood or did not get enough attention?

LR: So many! Haha. Some of the artists whose work I showed who I wish had been more appreciated include Rina Kimche, Rudolf de Crignis, and Irwin Kremen. Look them up! As for exhibitions, I think BitStreams, which I did at the Whitney in 2001 and which explored the impact of digital technology on art in various media was under-appreciated at the time and, because there was no catalog, has had virtually no afterlife.

SA: You have published a novel and write poetry, and curation and literature have sometimes intersected for you—a few years ago you did an exhibition on Theresa Hak Kyung Cha's Dictee in relation to her other work. Was curating this more challenging in that it was more textually rather than visually based? Personally, I love literary exhibition, but they are rare and feel different.

LR: The thing about Theresa Cha’s work is that it is textual AND visual. Her use of text is informed by concrete poetry, in which the appearance of the words themselves is part of the meaning and affect of the text. Even in her book Dictee, the arrangement of the words on each page is considered visually. Another wonderful example of her profoundly visual approach to text is her contribution to Apparatus, the fantastic anthology of French film theory that Theresa edited. As Theresa wrote, her aim was to find language “before it is born on the tip of the tongue.” She was interested in that shadowy, liminal space of consciousness on the edge of awareness. I adore her work. It is so limitless and resonant.

Another text project I worked on which I remember fondly was with Larry Eigner, a remarkable poet who lived in Berkeley. I worked with him to inscribe one of his poems on the enormous concrete walls of the old BAMPFA building on Bancroft Way. The poem wrapped around the building, using each facet of the façade like a page in a book. It was wonderful.

SA: Finally, tell us an exhibition you’d love to do but have not.

LR: I’d love to do an exhibition of work by the Dutch artist Hercules Segers. I might even come out of retirement for that!

Photos by Ekaterina Izmestieva

#studioahead #lawrenceridner #curator #bayarea #sanfrancscio #ukiah #pauldiscoe #david wilson

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 2 years ago

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You’re Not Their Pretty Little Thing

alas, i finally had time/remembered to post!

thank you @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde for the beta and hype on this one!

CW: open relationship geraskier, light dom/sub, scenting/scent marking, semi public and public sex, jaskier fucking several OCs before Geralt fucks him, posessive geralt, jaskier is a good boy and called as such.

also on ao3

__________________

Marius couldn’t sing worth a damn, but Jaskier was thrilled to see him at every bardic competition nonetheless. His cock was fantastic.

Without fail, Jaskier would find himself bent over some fence rail just barely out of sight of the rest of the festival biting his lip to keep the downright sinful moans in lest they get caught. This year was no exception. Jaskier’s eyes damn near rolled back in his head as he pushed himself back on that glorious cock. It wasn’t long at all before Marius came in his ass, resting his forehead on Jaskier’s shoulder and panting as he came down from his high.

“Need a hand then?” Marius murmured, kissing the back of Jaskier’s neck as he slid out.

“Not at all,” Jaksier lied, tucking his erection as if he were cleaning himself off. He had to pace himself; it was one of his favorite days, after all.

As the two men ever so casually rejoined the main crowd, Jaskier locked eyes with Geralt across the pavilion, and the look he received made him shiver. Geralt’s eyes were intently focused on him, and his nostrils flared, subtly letting Jaskier know Geralt could smell their sex. Fuck, the thrill of Geralt’s contained jealousy alone made Jaskier want to drop to his knees, but he wanted to push Geralt’s limits. When Jaskier and Geralt finally fell into bed together, they decided an open relationship would be the best idea. They weren’t always together, and Geralt was far more concerned with emotional intimacy, so it worked for them. They only had two rules. When they traveled apart, it didn’t matter who they slept with, history or no history. If they were together, Jaskier could fuck anyone he wanted so long as Geralt was the last to make him cum before he fell asleep next to Geralt. Jaskier had also noticed a lovely little pattern of Geralt wanting to mark him when he’d slept with other people, and he certainly wouldn’t bring it up, let alone complain when he loved it so much.

Geralt tended not to bed anyone while they were traveling together, just watched Jaskier with a predatory gaze and inhaled deeply when they were close enough for him to smell someone else on his bard. Jaskier loved it.

They danced around each other for the rest of the event, Jaskier making sure Geralt saw him flirting with another of his favorite musical colleagues. He even went so far as to fuck her right outside a window he knew Geralt was sitting next to. Her hands gripped the windowsill while he ate her out, and he could almost hear Geralt growl. He spent one of his precious orgasms with her, but fuck, her pussy was worth it. All warm and wet and welcoming as he held her up against the stone wall and made eye contact with Geralt through the window.

His eyes were dark and his expression was dangerously lust-filled as he simply watched Jaskier shudder through his orgasm.

After his performance later in the evening, a lovely patron bought him his favorite wine and sat him on their lap. They weren’t even hidden in a corner when their hands delved into his trousers and tantalizingly slowly pulled him off. This time he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed it, leaning back and nipping at their neck, making sure each little breathy moan was just for them. When he shook apart after what felt like a blissful eternity, Jaskier knew Geralt was watching them. Hell, several people were probably watching, given how shamelessly they’d pulled his cock out in the tavern, but Geralt was all Jaskier cared about.

After returning the favor to his newfound friend, Jaskier looked around for Geralt and only just caught a glimpse of him ducking out the tavern's front door. In a bit of a daze, Jaskier followed him, barely keeping Geralt in sight as his witcher made his way to the inn they were staying in. Jaskier’s whole body was loose and warm after a long day of music and sex, but Geralt checking over his shoulder and snapping his fingers had him alert and hustling to keep up.

“You’ve been teasing.” Geralt’s tone was accusatory as he opened the door to their room and waited for Jaskier to walk ahead of him.

A shiver of anticipation ran down Jaskier’s spine as he grinned and sauntered in with feigned casualness, “Oh you didn’t like the show?”

The low rumble that came from Geralt’s chest made Jaskier want to strip them both then and there, but that wasn’t their game. And gods he loved their little games.

Geralt firmly closed and locked the door behind them before hooking his finger under Jaskier’s chin to get the eye contact he wanted, “The first was hardly a show. Didn’t even hear you cum.”

“I didn’t,” Jaskier whispered, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Geralt’s trousers, “I saved it for you.” He practically squirmed under Geralt’s gaze, his body reacting faster to Geralt’s expression than any physical touch he’d had all day.

Leading him over to the bed still with just a finger hooked under his chin, Geralt gave him a pleased little hum, “Good boy,” and oh the way such simple little words made Jaskier’s eyes roll back in his head, “You can cum when you tell me all about it.”

Jaskier practically tripped over his own words to describe Marius’ cock as Geralt unbuttoned and unlaced every last stitch of clothing far too slowly, “Oh Geralt I think you’d love it. He’s girthy enough I have a hard time avoiding teeth when I blow him and- fuck, the head of his cock swells just a bit more than average. When he pushes in it's damn near heaven and twice as good if he pulls back and just tugs at my hole.”

“Is that what he did this morning?” Geralt asked as he traced the outline of Jaskier’s hardening cock. Jaskier shivered and nodded, his voice lost momentarily as Geralt huffed in a satisfied, almost smug imitation of laughter, “Strip and show me how he positioned you.”

Jaskier scrambled out of his clothes, earning another endeared laugh from Geralt as they both undressed. Moving to the end of the bed, Jaskier bent over with his forearms braced on the footboard and head able to rest on his wrists.

The low hum of appreciation from Geralt earned a twitch from Jaskier’s cock as the witcher moved behind him, tracing a line from his elbow, up his arm, and down his spine, “He has good taste,” he mused, “If his cock was so good why didn’t you cum?”

Arching his back as much as he could, Jaskier presented like a bitch in heat as his voice came out breathy and desperate, “Yours is better. And I only wanted to cum on your cock today.”

“You didn’t have to,” Geralt sounded far too pleased for Jaskier to think he fully meant his words as he smoothed his hands over every expanse of Jaskier’s skin. Leaning down to press a kiss to the base of Jaskier’s neck, he slotted his cock between Jaskier’s cheeks, not moving and driving Jaskier absolutely insane.

He whined and begged and even reminded Geralt they’d bought new oils but Geralt only tutted in disapproval, “Too much teasing for you? Still a desperate little slut after your little marathon?”

The moan that escaped Jaskier was downright sinful as he wiggled his hips, “Always desperate for you.”

There was a little pop of a cork leaving a bottle and Jaskier shivered as Geralt leaned low and whispered in his ear, “Tell me about the woman in the window and I’ll fuck you.”

“Fuck- Geralt I can barely think. It’s not fair,” Jaskier gasped, burying his head in his arms and squeezing his eyes shut as if that would help.

Slowly drizzling oil over his cock and dripping some of the cold liquid over Jaskier’s cheeks as a tease, Geralt sighed, “That’s a shame. I’ll just have to take care of myself then.”

A frustrated groan tore out of Jaskier’s throat before he launched into his tale, “She tasted fantastic. None of the perfumes whores are wearing these days and already wet and dripping when I pulled up her skirts. Oh, fuck- Geralt she was divine. Her pussy practically pulled me in deeper. Melitelle- and her tits were perfect, and she’d gasp if you flicked her nipple through her blouse- fuck Geralt. Please!”

As Jaskier spoke Geralt started rocking his hips back and forth, dragging his now slick cock over Jaskier’s hole in a lazy motion that was slowly driving him mad.

“Did you know I was there when you hid by the window?”

“Yes.” Jaskier breathed, rocking his hips in time with Geralt’s.

“Why?” Geralt sounded so in control and so unphased as he tucked Jaskier’s hair behind his ear it made the bard want to scream.

Jaskier thought he might die right then and there if Geralt didn’t fuck him or touch his cock or both, “Because I wanted you to watch me fuck her. I wanted you to get hard watching me take her and touch yourself under the table.”

Geralt practically growled as he pushed inside Jaskier, “In front of everyone else in the room?”

The pitiful attempt at forming ‘yes’ through his moan was unsuccessful, but Geralt seemed to understand regardless, a low rumbling laugh reverberating through the room. That delicious stretch and fullness stole Jaskier’s breath away as his nails dug into the wood he clung to. Nothing compared to Geralt’s cock; not Marius, not any toy he’d tried, nothing. Pleasure rippled through his body, bringing with it the satisfaction only Geralt could offer him.

Pulling Jaksier out of his hazy thoughts, Geralt wrapped both hands around his chest and pulled him flush to himself as he slowly ground his hips in little circles, finally starting to pant, “Don’t wander too far, darling. You still have one more friend to tell me about.”

On ‘friend’ he tweaked Jaskier’s nipples, and the bard’s knees nearly buckled.

“Y-you were there,” Jaskier whined, having a harder and harder time focusing on words when Geralt’s cock hit every spot inside him that made him quiver, “What else do you want to know?”

One of Geralt’s hands slid up his chest to rest over his collar bones, not gripping, just applying pressure as he peppered kisses over Jaskier’s neck and jaw before whispering in his ear, “What did they call you?”

Jaskier took a couple of gasping breaths before responding, “A pretty little thing.”

Geralt’s other hand trailed down his stomach, fingers splayed over most of Jaskier’s abdomen, “You’re not their pretty little thing, though, are you? Hm?”

All Jaskier could manage was a high-pitched whine as he leaned back into Geralt, his mind overtaken with pleasure and only concerned with finding part of Geralt to grip as he neared his orgasm.

“What are you, Jaskier?” Geralt punctuated his question with a longer thrust than before, and it was all Jaskier could do not to scream.

“I’m your good boy,” Jaskier nearly sobbed, “I’m your good boy! Only good for you, I promise.”

“Mmm, that's right,” Geralt purred as his hand slid lower to grip Jaskier’s cock and start stroking in time with his grinding, “You’re such a good boy for me. You gonna cum with me like the good boy you are?”

“YES,” Jaskier screamed as Geralt twisted his wrist at the top of his stroke, driving him somehow closer to the edge without tipping over as he whimpered on every exhale.

As Geralt pulled all the way out with a guttural growl, cumming all over Jaskier’s cheeks and thighs, the coil in Jaskier’s gut finally snapped as he thrust into Geralt’s fist. Each sensation seemed to extend his high, from Geralt’s fluttering grip on his cock to the warmth of Geralt’s spend dripping down his thighs to the way his hole felt stretched and used and empty. He found himself being lowered onto the bed face down, before he was vaguely aware of Geralt licking his thighs and ass clean. All the while, Geralt was mumbling little bits of praise and affection between licking his own spend up.

When he’d finally finished, and Jaskier’s haze had lifted enough to speak, Geralt crawled up the bed, flopping down next to Jaskier and situating them so Jaskier’s head laid on Geralt’s chest. They laid together in a dazed and sated silence, catching their breath until Jaskier noticed Geralt breathing in deeply through his nose with just a little too much vigor to be calming.

He hummed and swept one of his hands over Geralt’s shoulder and chest, patting his tit and watching it jiggle with a smile before he asked, “How do I smell? Did your mark work?”

Geralt craned his neck to look down at him, creating several extra chins from Jaskiers angle, “I- How… Yeah.” He sealed his little confession by kissing Jaskier on the forehead as the bard giggled.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #idk what else to tag that wont just hide the post so

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rubysunnday · 4 years ago

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she could be the one | c.b

The house was quiet. The household staff had finished their duties for the day and had blown out the candles, shut the windows and curtains and had migrated down stairs to their quarters. Y/N had forgone the ball occurring that night in Greenwich, choosing to stay home and finish her embroidery.

She looked up from her sewing as something clattered against her window. Y/N frowned, dismissing it as a stray branch and turning back to her sewing but looked up again when something clattered against it again.

Y/N stood up and walked up to her window, pulling back the thin, net curtain and looking out.

Colin Bridgerton, the bastard, was standing in the side garden of the house looking up at her smugly whilst holding a bunch of pebbles in his hand.

Y/N scoffed out a laugh and pulled up her window, opening it wide and poking her head out the window.

“Colin Bridgerton, what on earth?!” Y/N exclaimed, staring at him as if he’d gone insane which, in all fairness, wasn’t a difficult assumption to make considering his seven siblings.

“No one was home,” Colin replied, “minus Hyacinth and Gregory but they're both too engrossed in attacking the other to notice me disappearing.”

Y/N laughed, leaning out her window further. “That doesn’t explain your presence here. In my garden. At night.”

“I missed you,” Colin said, beaming. “And I wondered if we may have a stroll around your surprisingly large garden.”

Y/N gaped at him, astonished by the nerve and gull of the man who was not only her best friend but also the man she’d shared her first kiss with at the start of the season underneath the cherry tree at Hastings House.

“Colin... I-”

“Come on, Y/N/N,” he said, stepping closer to the window and giving her a the smile that made her knees weak. “Please?”

Y/N sighed, clutching the window sill tightly as her knees wobbled. “Alright. I’ll come down.”

Y/N turned around and grabbed her shawl, missing Colin’s celebratory punch in the air. She turned back around and began climbing down from her first floor window, using the rose trellis as a ladder.

Colin’s hands snaked around her waist as soon as she was within arm’s reach and he gently lifted her down onto the ground and spun her around, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her. Y/N’s feet were still yet to touch the ground.

“Colin,” Y/N said, pushing him back slightly and looking at him. “You can put me down, now.”

Colin smirked and gently dropped her to the floor. He leant down and kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall.

“I thought we were strolling,” Y/N replied, smiling, pushing him back again. She reached out and entwined her fingers with his. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Y/N began walking, gently tugging Colin’s arm so that he followed after her.

The gardens of Chantry House - Y/N’s childhood home - were even bigger then those at Bridgerton House. The central feature was the fountain at the centre of the garden with a statue of young woman holding a water pot in the middle. Behind it, through the cherry trees and behind the hedges was a beautiful white marble pavilion.

Y/N lead Colin around the fountain, through the trees and behind the hedge and walked up the stairs and came to a stop in the centre of the pavilion.

“No one will see us here - unless they come back early, that is,” Y/N explained, pulling Colin close and grabbing his other hand. “It’s also about to rain so, I thought we could hide in here.”

Colin frowned. “How do you know it’s going to rain?” He asked, letting go of Y/N’s hand and resting it on her waist.

“You can smell it in the air,” she replied, fiddling with his collar. “Petrichor - the smell of dust after rain. It travels on the wind from where it’s rained which means its coming this way.”

Seconds after she finished speaking, the roof above them began being battered by heavy rain, the wind blowing stray drops inside the pavilion. Y/N sighed happily, tilting her head back as the late summer heat broke and the wind swept away the humidity and heavy air.

Colin smiled at her as she spun in a circle, his eyes focused solely on her and nothing else. He’d become known as a flirt and a bit of a rake over the years and almost any woman he laid eyes on knew he was there for a short time and not a long one.

But when he looked at Y/N... he felt as if his world was complete. As if he had no need to travel in search of fulfilment because it was right in front of him. Because his fulfilment was her.

The thing he'd spent so many months travelling to find had been in London the entire time and he just hadn't realised it until their stolen kiss under the cherry tree back in May. Ever since then he’d needed her in his life. Needed her smile, her laugh - the way her eyes lit up whenever she spoke about history and museums and anything else she liked.

He needed her like he needed air to breathe.

“What?” Y/N asked, finally noticing the way Colin was staring at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Colin smiled and shook his head fondly. “Nothing, darling. You just look beautiful tonight. You look beautiful every night.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and swished the skirt of her dress. “Why thank you, Mr Bridgerton.”

The gardens lit up as a flash of lightning cracked across the sky followed by the low rumble of thunder echoing above. Y/N smiled and grabbed Colin’s hand, pulling him closer.

“Can I interest you in a dance, Mr Bridgerton?” Y/N asked, taking the lead - a move usually reserved for men in a dance.

Colin let out the cutest giggle that didn’t sound like it could possibly come from him - the handsome, tall third Bridgerton brother. “Of course, Miss Y/L/N.”

Colin took up the women’s position in a waltz whilst Y/N took up the man’s. Y/N softly hummed under her breath the traditional rhythm for a waltz and the two began dancing around the pavilion, the rain being forced in by the wind and causing the two to get damp as they spun around.

Y/N giggled as Colin spun her away, spun her back to him and took up the normal pose of a waltz, taking the lead.

It wasn’t often that they were allowed to be alone - society and tradition dictated that there should always be a chaperone around should a man and woman want to be alone. But the intimate moments between her and Colin - when no one else was around and it was just the two of them in a dark corner of a ballroom or in the centre of a maze.

Dancing with him in the middle of the night, in the rain was magical. Y/N, dressed in nothing more than her morning dress, barefoot with her hair down, felt free. No one was watching her. It was just Colin’s eyes on her.

Colin had lost his jacket when he’d walked into the pavilion and had rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms. They both felt free and away from the piercing eyes of the Ton.

Colin put his hands on Y/N’s waist and lifted her up into the air, spinning her around and the gently setting her on the ground again, the two impossibly close.

“Y/N,” Colin said softly, their foreheads touching, “I -”

The sound of a carriage rattled past the back gate and Y/N lurched away from Colin, her eyes wide.

“Oh, that’s -” She turned around in a circle and spotted Colin’s jacket and threw it at him. “My parents. You should go, Col, or... well, god knows what your brothers will do to me.”

Colin laughed. “Alright, I’ll go, but not after a kiss.”

Y/N shoved Colin out of the pavilion and stood on the top of the stairs, leaning down and kissing the tip of his nose.

“There,” she said, stepping down until she was on the path. “Now, go.”

Without giving him a chance to argue, Y/N dashed off down the garden path in the direction of the back door before her parents returned and found her in the garden with Colin Bridgerton.

Colin stared after her a stupid grin on his face. Anthony was going to be in for a shock when he got home that night. Colin Bridgerton was finally ready to settle down with the woman who had become his world.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #imagine

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tanhua · 2 years ago

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[Fic] Offering

Testing the waters before posting on AO3. I’ve never written for PJO, and it’s been months since I wrote anything.

Gen (barely implied Percico of the canon, one-sided variety). Nico + Annabeth, Annabeth POV. ~1k.

Nico makes an offering (but not to his father).

Nico was here at camp. That usually wasn’t good.

Annabeth watched him from her own table in the dining pavilion, surrounded by her siblings. They were silent, carefully avoiding looking at her. She had been frustrated by the way they treated her like she was made of glass, but over time had grown to be thankful for their consideration. Percy’s disappearance made her irritable, with as much frustration directed towards others as to herself.

She had just spoken to Nico days prior, and received the same excruciating response of no news. And now he appeared out of nowhere, as always, with barely a word for Chiron, ignoring everyone else as always.

Maybe he was just here for a meal. A twinge of sympathy stirred in her heart. None of them questioned how he got by in the long months and years he spent away from camp, with no (mortal) parent, no relatives, all alone in the world, but it couldn’t have been easy. Even if Hades was the god of riches, he didn’t seem to be the generous type.

Pollux sat back down, returning from the brazier. He shot a glance at Nico, alone at the Hades table, who in turn looked across to Cabin Fourteen, and gestured for them to go first.

Annabeth took a bite of her meal and tasted nothing, as was the norm since Percy disappeared. It took all her willpower not to walk over to Nico’s table and demand to know why he was here.

He waited until all the cabins had gone before standing up himself, scraping a generous portion of his meal into the brazier as he stood.

And stood.

When he finally sat back down, the entire camp’s eyes were on him. Annabeth realised she had never seen him give an offering - she barely saw him eat at camp.

Even Chiron was watching him. "Child, you did not need to have done that," he called out softly.

Nico looked up, surprised but unflustered. "We're not on the best of terms."

Were they not? Annabeth wracked her memory for any mention Nico made of his father. Last she heard, he was running errands for him, unless he’d done something that courted Hades’ displeasure since. Likely, with how fickle the gods were, not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

The smoke from his offering wafted over their table, smelling like… flowers and freshly shorn grass?

Malcolm shot her a quizzical glance as Chiron replied, “She’ll appreciate it. She doesn’t get offerings that often, especially not nowadays.”

She? Malcolm mouthed, and Annabeth shook her head. Other tables burst into low murmurs for a moment too. It wasn’t taboo to give an offering to someone other than your own parent, but it was rare, often unfruitful. Gods weren’t keen on helping demigods, much less ones not born from themselves. And the flowers... Demeter? What would Nico need from her? She wouldn't be surprised if Demeter didn't like him, as a product of her son-in-law’s cheating. Besides, the gods no longer answered their prayers.

Annabeth rapped her knuckles on the table, calling the attention of her own cabinmates. She had overstepped too, but it wasn’t too late to call them back in line. “It’s not proper to speculate on others’ prayers,” she said, loudly enough for other tables to hear too. “Leave Nico alone.”

Chiron looked at her approvingly. She didn’t look back, but she knew Nico was watching her too.

They spent the rest of dinner in silence. When she stood and gathered her cabin to leave, Nico was already waiting for her at the edge of the dining pavilion, half-cloaked in shadows as if ready to leave at any moment. He probably was.

“Malcolm, take them back. I need to speak to Nico.” Annabeth turned and joined Nico.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes. “Uh, I don’t really mind if you know. It was for my stepmother. I, uh, need to borrow… use something of hers, and I thought she’d hate me less if I asked her first.”

Step- Persephone. Annabeth nodded. Athena was a virgin goddess, but she’d seen the derision on Hera’s face when she saw Thalia. Unsurprising that Persephone held similar sentiment towards Nico.

“No news,” he said.

“Yeah, I thought so,” she replied, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“He’s out there,” Nico blurted out, conviction ringing in every word. “Keep looking for him.”

“Of course I will.” Annabeth bit her lip. That came off as much more combative than she intended, and she softened her tone. Nico was reassuring her, in his own way, that at the very least Percy wasn’t dead. Yet. “Please, if you hear anything out there… do it for me, if not for him.”

Nico’s expression hardened and he took a step back in the shadows - or maybe the shadows reached out to him. Part of his body was entirely enveloped in darkness, perhaps already halfway into wherever realm he went when he teleported.

“Yeah,” he managed finally. “I will. I... I won't be back for a while.”

"Where are you going?" Annabeth asked automatically, not expecting an answer.

To her surprise, he seemed to make an effort to provide one. "I can't really say. I mean, I don't know for sure - it's just a guess. I have a couple of leads. Something's happening, and I need to find out. I promise that I'll keep an eye out for Percy, but this might be more important."

Nothing was more important than him, a voice in her said petulantly. "Is it for your father? Have you heard from him?"

"I spoke to him a few days ago. He told me not to do this. I'm on my own," he muttered. Jealousy burned through Annabeth as her last encounter with Athena flashed in her mind. Hades, showing concern for his son, while Athena urged her onto a cryptic quest with nothing but a coin to guide her. When the gods had fallen silent, to think that Hades, of all the gods, would be the only one to keep contact.

He drew a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, Annabeth."

Weariness seeped out from her bones and coated her every muscle in lethargy, but she forced her lips to quirk up. "What for? Thanks for everything you do."

He stepped into the shadows in lieu of an answer.

Annabeth never heard from him again, until Percy told her he had been captured, looking for the Doors of Death in Tartarus.

#nico di angelo #annabeth chase #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #percico

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yuyuntianyu · 4 years ago

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[2HA analysis blog] To love you is torment but leave you I cannot

I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.

Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !

Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.

Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.

1. I used to like you a lot

At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.

2. I gave you a new title

Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world. At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.

3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems

On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:

“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon. Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **

*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman ** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem

These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.

4. You are all I have left

In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:

“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…” “In the end, it’s just you and I”.

This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.

Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed

5. Are you still mad?

This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.

6. I did not think you would really leave me.

On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:

“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.

Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace. 7. Don't leave me, ok?

Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.

The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:

“Don’t betray me” “Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”

So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／

Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.

#2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #chu wanning #mo ran #mo weiyu #ranwan #taxian jun #chu fei #erha #husky is dumb but husky tried his best

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gastricpierrot · 2 years ago

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Title: A lotus that cannot bloom

Series: Genshin Impact

Relationship: None, Scaramouche centric

Rating: T

Summary:

Once upon a time, the divine puppet learned what it meant to have a heart that breaks.

Also on AO3

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There was once a divine puppet who lived in dreams.

They were beautiful dreams, warm dreams. Of companionship, gentle laughter. Falling petals, steaming tea. People the puppet did not recognize, yet felt deeply drawn towards. They were blurred dreams, hazy visions. Rumbling thunder, the weight of dread.

The first time the puppet awoke, there were tears in his eyes.

He did not understand what it meant, what the sensations were. It took a while before his tears dried, and within, he felt empty.

There was something meant to fill that emptiness, that he knew well. It was his purpose of being, the reason for his existence. There was a “heart” meant for him, and he was built, programmed to know this.

Then why is he hollow? Why is he alone? The rustic pavilion housed no one but him, its carefully crafted structure dead and still. Only the floorboards creaked under his feet whenever he paced around, offering little to combat the constant silence. A god had created him, given him sentience—and left him here. The puppet could not comprehend, finding no answers to his ever-increasing questions. Where exactly is “here”? If he had a purpose, why was he left here to only to dream?

And if he was a nothing but mere puppet, why was he granted the ability for thoughts? Why were countless scrolls strewn around and left behind for him to scour through, to learn that there was indeed a world beyond the structure that confined him? A world similar to the visions he saw in his dreams, a world so vast and mysterious and home to the warm people he could only ever barely see.

If he was nothing but a mere puppet, why did he want something so badly?

By the time he found a way to open the doors of the pavilion, the puppet had long memorized the contents of every scroll in his reach, most of the parchment already fallen apart from wear and age. Even the intricately carved grooves on the golden feather hanging from his neck have begun dulling from the countless minutes he'd spent fiddling it between his fingers.

The first time the puppet had felt sunlight on his skin, tears had once again welled up in his eyes. Warm, this was how warmth felt like. Comforting, peaceful. The sun hung high in the distance, a seemingly endless expanse of land beneath it. This was the world beyond his tomb.

The puppet thus spent his subsequent days roaming, absorbing every sight he could lay his eyes upon like an excited child. Learning to think of many material things as beyond mere concepts, his five senses stimulated to exhaustion. And yet he refused to stop; how could he, when this was all he’d ever yearned for? For decades? Centuries? He did not know, but it no longer mattered.

The storm rolled in without as much as a warning while the puppet was strolling along Nazuchi Beach one day. Thunder roared overhead and rain pelted relentlessly against his skin, obscuring his vision, soaking his robes. It did not deter him from his walk; he was in fact fascinated by the countless ripples across the body of water surrounding him, awed by the bolts of lightning streaking across the sky.

The people of Inazuma would’ve said that it was his mother’s doing. Perhaps if he hadn’t cried, it would’ve been his.

“Hey, it’s dangerous to be standing out here in the rain!”

He scarcely had the time to even turn toward the voice when he was dragged away, stumbling several steps before he regained his footing and simply followed. He was confused, but not afraid. He had yet to properly understand what fear was; he genuinely did not think there was any mortal who could harm him.

The person who brought him to shelter was a young man, bright eyed and broad shouldered, his movements uninhibited even by his wet clothes nor the heavy armor he donned. He had companions awaiting his return, all curious gazes as they asked about the puppet’s presence. Their weapons lay on the ground by their feet, pieces of armor set neatly aside.

The name of the samurai who brought him here was Katsuragi. His companions, Nozomu and Kinjiro.

The puppet had no name to give, but the swordsmen did not pry.

Katsuragi only thought it was troubling. It would be rather inconvenient to have nothing to call him by, he’d brooded while they roasted lavender melons by the campfire. “Why don’t you choose one for yourself?”

The puppet found himself at a loss for an answer. He did not care what he was referred to, did not even fully comprehend his situation just yet. He was a complete stranger to them, and he still struggled to understand what merit they stood to gain in welcoming him into their ranks so easily.

“Since you seem to be fond of wandering—” It was the young Nozomu who made the first suggestion— “How about ‘Watari’?”

And thus the divine puppet would be known to his newfound companions as Watari.

Some nights later, long after their other two companions had fallen asleep from their full bellies and the divine puppet had given up on wondering why he was still here with this entourage, Katsuragi had approached him, seating himself beside him as they gazed at the stars.

“You’re not just any ordinary human, are you?” He’d asked, forthright and casual. Watari blinked at him, and said nothing.

“I’ve heard that that gold ornament is a proof of identity granted by the Almighty Shogun herself,” Katsuragi gestured at the feather hanging from his neck. “You feel...different from us, Watari. Who exactly are you?”

It took a moment before Watari could decide how he should answer.

“I am puppet created by the Raiden Shogun,” was all he managed to say, his own voice still sounding foreign to his ears even after all this time—before Katsuragi was hurriedly shushing him.

“Alright, alright, let’s stop right there, dear friend!” he pleaded in frantic whispers. “I didn’t think you would actually tell me and I’m honored that you trust me enough to do so!”

Watari could only stare at him when Katsuragi rests his hands on his shoulders to hold his gaze. “But please bear this in mind, Watari. You should never reveal this information as easily to anyone else ever again.”

“’Even though it is only the truth?” Watari blinked slowly as he tried to understand. Katsuragi nodded with certainty.

“There are all kinds of people in this world,” he explained, withdrawing from Watari’s space. “And you are a special kind of existence. There’s no telling what could happen to you once your identity is made known.”

“There is nothing that can harm me.” Watari knew it for a fact; he had personally tried countless times out of morbid curiosity.

“We do not know that for sure,” Katsuragi countered, though his tone remained infinitely patient and he smiled gently. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping since we have barely just met—but sometimes, it feels as if you are still but a child, and I can’t help but worry for you.”

At that, the puppet knitted his brow. “You do not need to, Katsuragi.”

“What are you saying? You’re already a friend to me,” Katsuragi let out a laugh before resuming his somberness. “Watari, would you like to join us for a little while longer? We might just be able to teach you a few more useful things for your travels.”

It wasn’t as if Watari had any fixed destination to begin with, and it was strangely warm, being with companions. Pleasant, would perhaps be a better word to describe it. The sensations that welled up in his chest are similar to when he had dreams of a certain group of people he could never fully see, and he basked in them like a sapling starved for water, unwilling to let go just yet.

“I’m sure our leader would be delighted to welcome you as well,” Katsuragi had enthused after Watari finally voiced his willingness to follow along, his relief obvious in his voice. “He can have a bit of a temper at times but I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine!”

And so that was how Watari came to meet the man by the name of Mikoshi Nagamasa.

He had a lock of scarlet red hair that stood out against a head of dark brown, vibrant as maple leaves in fall, and he had a cheeky, infectious grin. According to Katsuragi, he was also as strait-laced as can be, taking his duties as the commanding officer with incredible dedication. He seemed to view the world as largely black and white, law or sin. All who dared opposed his ideals of justice shall be duly punished, such was his resolve in order to restore honor to the tarnished name of his clan.

Perhaps it was his unwavering ambition that drew Watari towards him, his blind, single-minded determination in achieving his goals. Perhaps it was simply the way opposites tended to attract: they were one who strived for reacceptance on behalf of his family, and one who was exiled by his flesh and blood in disgrace.

When Katsuragi introduced him as a runaway young master from a minor noble family, Nagamasa had frowned briefly in disapproval.

“It is not good to cause your family so much worry,” he told Watari with much solemness before heaving a deep sigh of defeat. “But I respect your wish to leave the shelter of your home and experience the world for yourself. You may stay a while if you want, I’m sure the villagers are more than happy to take you in.”

Thus began Watari’s time in a certain village at Tatarasuna; perhaps one of the most wonderful moments of his life, if he may say so himself. The villagers found him strange and beautiful and the older ones endlessly doted on him, always happy to invite him to join them in their activities. They taught him many skills, told him many stories and sang him folk songs. They shared their meals with him and he learned of the warmth in returning the favour, finding joy in earning himself praises and proud smiles after a job well done.

Even so, Watari was still particularly fond of his companions who first took him in. He adored Nozomu’s sketches and found much comfort in Kinjiro’s silent companionship. He could not find the same interest in the art of forging weapons yet Nagamasa was always excited to show off his progress and achievements in his newfound hobby. Katsuragi was the bridge that tied them all together, always ready to smooth out any tension within their group and always making sure Watari was doing alright.

But even as the emptiness within Watari’s chest was steadily filled without his full realisation, something still felt missing. Watari was fond of simply observing the people around him at times, and he often found himself envying those who had family. The children always seemed so happy and safe in their mother’s embrace. Watari wondered how it felt like to be held in an embrace.

“Huh? You’re saying you’ve never been hugged before??”

An overreaction was not unexpected from Nozomu out of all of them, but the way he said it still made Watari slightly bashful for reasons he could not comprehend.

“My household has always been…distant,” was all Watari could say, under the watchful gaze of Katsuragi from the far back of the room.

“Oh, my poor brother in arms!” Nozomu spread his arms while playfully exaggerating a sob. “Come, let aniki show you the wonders of a good hug!”

He pulled Watari in before he could even respond, and it was, indeed, wonderful. The warmth of another against his skin, the strange sense of security within Nozomu’s arms. Watari’s breath caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure if he should return the embrace, if he had the right and—

“Kinjiro, Katsuragi-san, you two should come here too!” Nozomu’s enthusiastic invitation was too loud next to Watari’s ear. He was met with halfhearted protests, but after a little more pestering he was able to get the other two to join in somehow, and Watari was soon cocooned among his companions, swaddled like a newborn babe in cloth.

“What’s this?” Nagamasa demanded the moment he stepped through the door and laid eyes on the spectacle in the room. There was no edge to his tone, Watari noticed, only a spark of amusement. “A group hug without me?”

“You’re all sweaty and gross from being at the forge so no thanks, Captain!” Nozomu was quick to blurt, his forwardness making Kinjiro snort and even Katsuragi holding back a smile. Nagamasa feigned offense at that, threatening to punish Nozomu before actually tackling him on the floor.

What followed was a mess of jostling and wrestling, protests and laughter. Watari somehow ended up in the center of it all, tossed and pushed around like a ragdoll while Nozomu desperately hid behind him and Nagamasa made numerous attempts to smack him. Kinjiro's legs were somehow tangled with his and Katsuragi’s efforts to reduce the chaos were to no avail.

Yet despite the unfamiliarity of all the sensations, the slight discomfort in being caught used as a shield for someone else’s potty mouth, Watari had never felt such joy.

The end began with a plague.

The first to fall ill were the elderly. Rashes accompanied fevers, common symptoms that the village physician should have been able to treat but could not. Then there were widespread complaints of migraines and dizziness, villagers gradually finding difficulty in going about their daily activities despite being supposedly used to the exertion.

The symptoms were mild at first; nothing a little extra rest cannot fix. Watari was repeatedly told not to worry despite sensing that something deeply wrong was stirring. The location of this village near the estuary...they were of significance based on the memories he was given by his creator.

Then began the bleeding and the hallucinations, a nightmare brought into existence. People who bled from their eyes, nose, ears. The screams that sometimes lasted deep into the night. Watari watched as one by one, the people he knew succumbed to the tatarigami. The elderly farmer who loved telling him stories of his youth withered into a husk who mumbled endlessly about giant serpents with hellish features. The mother of three who stayed by the riverbank went mad from being tormented by hallucinations, and there was no choice but to restrain and hide her away in confinement in an attempt to control the spread of fear.

Watari was not equipped to combat the intangible, suppression of an ancient curse beyond the painfully limited capabilities he was granted. But watching the erosion of the village was suffocating, and seeing his companions’ growing exhaustion and anxiety was even more so. Help did not seem to be coming, and with their dwindling manpower, bringing the villagers to receive help was a bigger impossibility.

“I will go.”

Watari’s declaration was met with Katsuragi’s level but tired gaze. He spoke quickly, before he could be interrupted.

“A puppet does not need to rest, Katsuragi. Even if I have to walk and swim the entire way without stopping, I would still reach Narukami Island quicker than us waiting for any help to arrive.” Watari gripped the golden feather he hung around his neck. “This gold ornament is a proof of identity granted by the Almighty Shogun. It must surely be able to save the people.”

There was a look in Katsuragi’s eyes that the divine puppet did not wish to see. It was pity.

Perhaps he was the first of them all to realize that they have already been abandoned by their own god.

“Then make haste and be careful, Watari,” Katsuragi said while giving Watari’s shoulder a light squeeze. “We’ll do whatever we can to hold out here in the meantime. May the Narukami Ogosho bless you.”

And thus Watari set off for the mainland, journeying ceaselessly until grime and dirt clung to his skin, until even the mechanisms within his body began to protest. He did not allow himself to stop, for hope weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was something he had to do; this was all he could do.

“This gold ornament is indeed a proof of identity granted by the Almighty Shogun.” There was not a single emotion in the shrine maiden’s eyes while she studied the feathers between her slender fingers. “And she will not abandon you. As for me, I shall do my utmost to send for help immediately.”

Even Watari could tell there was no true intention in her voice. If she could send help, she would have already done so months ago, when Nagamasa began his countless stream of letters requesting assistance.

Yet Watari still dared to hope, dared to believe that she would. Because if he didn’t then all that’s left for him was despair.

But by the time he returned to camp, his world had already begun falling apart.

It was one of the villagers who ran up to him upon seeing him approach from the distance, face deathly pale and eyes wide with fear.

“Watari, you must turn back!” she had warned frantically, her voice high shrill and cracking from panic. “The Chief Inspector has lost his mind!”

The words held Watari shock still, not even sparing him the ability to move his lips and question further. It was impossible, the tatarigami could not have affected Nagamasa. Those who are weak in health and will had always been the ones who fell first. Nagamasa was neither of those, he was one who had Watari’s respect, his awe, but—

“What has he done?”

Watari was afraid of even voicing the question, pushing past the villager despite her desperate pleas for him to leave while he still could. He did not need to ask where he could find Nagamasa; there was only one place he could ever be at this time.

The heat for the furnace felt especially suffocating that night, as though hell itself was slowly creeping up onto the surface. The flickering flames of the torches sent shadows into a frenzied dance. Nagamasa awaited him with a sword already in hand, donned in nothing but the cotton robes he usually wore whenever he was at the forge.

Their companions were nowhere in sight. The scent of iron and smoke was heavy in the air.

The reality of whatever had transpired during his absence began dawning on Watari, and his entire body trembled. He clenched his fists hard, fighting back the tidal wave of emotions welling within his hollow chest.

“Where are the others, Nagamasa?”

Nagamasa merely gazed at him with a look of ice, readying his sword. The patch of scarlet on his hair almost resembled blood. “It is all your fault, Watari.”

For a moment, the accusation threw him off balance. “I do not understand.”

“You hid your true identity from me.” Nagamasa’s voice rose with sudden rage. “You are neither man nor mechanism! A monster! Your very existence is wrong!”

“No, I—” The puppet’s throat closed up, his mind clouding over. No, he did not want to hear such words. He had always known, that something was wrong with him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been discarded by his own creator, left to sleep and rot in a sealed off domain. But all that shouldn’t have mattered, had never mattered when he was with his newfound family. They were different, they accepted him, guided him. Loved him.

Nagamasa stepped forward. “Please understand that I am doing this for the safety of our homeland, Watari. I pray you would not hold this against me.”

The puppet did not move an inch from where he stood, not even when the samurai lunged towards him and ran him clean through with his blade.

The puppet did not fear harm, he would not die. After all, he was still a god’s kin, no matter how imperfect, no matter how unwanted.

This close, he could see the madness swirling in Nagamasa’s eyes as he stared back at him. With it, there was fury, betrayal.

Sorrow.

“Why are you crying, Watari?”

The tears the puppet shed left burning trails down his cheeks. He had always been certain; nothing could hurt him. Torn flesh and broken bones healed in an instant, and he hardly felt any pain. He was nothing but a hollow vessel, and he had no heart that could stop beating.

Then why, he wondered, did he feel something shatter in this very moment? Why did it hurt so deeply that he could not breathe?

“We were supposed to be family.”

A flash of clarity returns to Nagamasa’s gaze at his whisper, yet his request that followed was beyond cruel.

“Please stop me before I completely lose myself, Watari. I’m begging you.”

He did not need to beg any further.

Thus came the unspoken rule within the village to recall the incident as merely another strike of misfortune brought upon by the serpent god’s wrath. The beautiful, pitiful young master happened to have been away when the Chief Inspector too, succumbed to madness and killed his entire unit before perishing himself.

The puppet’s white robes remained ever pristine, even when he now had blood on his hands.

The villagers, despite their best efforts, began fearing him for it. The timid and innocent Watari was capable of ending another’s life, was such cruelty his true nature? What if he actually harbored ulterior motives behind his every offer to be of help? What if he poisoned the herbs and food he brought, what if he slipped into their homes as they slept and did the unthinkable?

The puppet could sense the miasma further taking root in their psyches, feeding their increasing paranoia—but there was nothing he could do to stop it. No matter how much he persisted, they gradually rejected his assistance, instead choosing to believe that the Almighty Shogun would have heard their prayers and noticed their plight by now, and that rescue from the mainland should be arriving soon enough. The Electro Archon was merciful and all-powerful, she would be able to save them and silence the ghoulish whispers in their ears.

Even now, the puppet did not know how to tell them that their own god had long forsaken them.

Violent ripples obscured his reflection as he scrubbed his hands raw in the river. A moon had passed ever since they had been stained, and no matter how much he ripped at his own skin, the phantom sensations refused to disappear. The constant reminder of his deeds irritated him, haunted him.

Such immense, seething fury was new to him. Oh, how the fox must have laughed at his pathetic groveling once he had left, how she and Beelzebul must have reveled in his incompetence in saving even a mere village. He had always been, and always will be, weak and unworthy.

“Nii-chan, you’re going to hurt yourself like that!”

The sudden voice startled him, and he twisted around to face its source. A young boy who appeared seemingly out of nowhere hurried toward him, his eyebrows knitted with concern.

“They are filthy,” the puppet responded flatly, inching away as the child knelt down beside him. He was currently in another settlement further north and away from the Tatarasuna forge; it wasn’t all unexpected that there were still people who did not recognize him, more so a child.

“Still, that’s not the right way to do it!” The boy scooted closer despite the puppet’s visible discomfort. “Let me show you what mama taught me before she left!”

And without giving the puppet a chance to even respond, the boy dipped his own hands into the water and began washing them with all the concentration in the world. The puppet watched absently as he carefully rubbed his palms, the spaces between his fingers, under his nails—and, without a word, began copying him.

It delighted the child to be able to teach a random stranger a thing or two, his giggles akin to the trill of excited sparrows. He then urged the puppet to show him his hands, insistent despite the latter’s hesitation, and after a minute of solemn inspection, declared them perfectly spotless.

It stunned him, the way the child had casually touched him without a worry in the world. It had been a while since he was approached with such sincerity, and it brought a sting to his chest. To this boy, he wasn’t the bearer of a blessing that was turning into a curse. He wasn’t a murderer who took the life of his own friend. He wasn’t a failure who did not even deserve a chance.

To the boy, he was just, him. A random stranger encountered by the riverbank, a new friend to be made.

The puppet clung to his companionship like a lifeline. The child was like a firefly in a moonless night; tiny and fragile, but a source of light nonetheless, a source of hope. His presence kept the puppet’s budding darkness at bay, made the emptiness in his chest just a little easier to bear.

With him, he could be Watari again.

The boy was lively, always enthusiastic and full of energy despite his solitude. Watari quickly discovered part of the reason why the child had grown attached to him so easily, and it was his uncanny resemblance to the handmade stuffed doll the boy’s mother had left for him.

“Mama told me he would always protect me,” he’d told Watari the first time he’d brought him back to the modest hut that was his home, his eyes bright with hope and joy. “You’re him, aren’t you, nii-chan? You’ve come to be with me just like mama said?”

The child’s parents were gone and only an elderly lady from the neighbouring home was willing to drop by and care for him whenever she had the time. Watari busied himself stepping into the role, making sure the boy wouldn’t get himself into any danger while going out to play by himself, trying his best to provide all he needs. This way, he wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have the time to dwell on his festering resentment towards his own creator and everything she had brought upon him.

The days slipped by one by one, a new mundanity Watari finally settled into. Until winter arrived like a raging beast, and with it, so did the tatarigami.

No, Watari had already seen the symptoms weeks ahead of the outbreak. The coughing, the disorientation, the bursts of anger and paranoia among the villagers. It was almost as if he was reliving the past, back where he had found himself pulling away from before he knew it.

Only this time, he could no longer bring himself to care for the others. It took all his focus to sort out where to find food for his little fletching, how to keep him warm and get through the harsh winter with barely any necessities available to them. The boy was small and fragile, and he did not fully understand why Watari insisted he stayed indoors where there was hardly anything to do. Watari could not fathom his lack of comprehension either because surely, even a child would know the dangers of wandering into a snowstorm? Surely the unyielding cold and thick snow must be enough to convince him that he could die if he ventured out alone?

Watari learned that not all human children could fathom such intricacies.

The day the divine puppet first truly understood fear was the day he returned from fishing to find their home empty, his boy nowhere in sight.

His throat seized, his mind exploding into static the moment he realized that the child was missing. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Was he somewhere outside, trapped under a mound of unforgiving snow? Had he ventured towards the frozen river only to slip and fall through the deceptive surface of ice? Or had he been taken by someone, perhaps someone who had caught wind of Watari’s origins and was now looking to hurt him through the only person he cared about?

There was no time to think. Every second he stood unmoving was a second wasted. Watari turned on his heels, bracing himself to once again wade into the sea of white. He did not even know where to begin his search, but he still had to do something. He couldn’t lose this one, not another. He flung open the door of their shared home, squaring his shoulders to brave the harsh weather—

—and was immediately tackled into an embrace by a tiny figure.

He was trembling non-stop, and he was so cold, cold, cold. Watari dropped to his knees, holding the boy tight as an endless string of admonitions left his mouth. The warmth from his own body was meager, too weak against the cold that it wouldn’t make a sliver of difference. He ushered the boy properly into the safety of the house, forcing his panic to subside. He had to change his clothes, warm him up with blankets and get the fire going, boil some water.

And then what? What else could he do?

The boy was conscious, at least, still retaining enough awareness to sob out his apologies and promise he’ll never think about going out to play in a snowstorm ever again. He had been fortunate that he was only outside for a short while before abruptly realizing the danger he was exposing himself to. He had been fortunate that he was able to find his way back without being buried in the thick snow.

He was lucky that Watari was too relieved to stay angry at him.

“Do not ever do something as stupid as that again,” he told the child fiercely as he held his smaller hands between both his own. They were warm again, warm and alive. “I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.”

And “I won’t, nii-chan,” the child had sworn tearfully, still very much shaken by the experience. “I won’t go anywhere without you anymore!”

Watari held him to his words, never again keeping the boy out of his sight until they managed to get through the winter somehow. Watari did his best to keep him occupied indoors while they waited for the snow to melt and let the flowers bloom once more. He concocted new games with the toys the child’s craftsman father had left behind, he taught him how to read and write. He told him stories; those of his bygone days with his previous family, as well as those he’d seen in his dreams.

Ever since their scare, the boy had developed a cough that would not disappear.

Perhaps it would get better once the seasons change, Watari had thought naively. The first sight of clear blue skies was comforting, the peace that came after a storm. With this, his little one would be able to spend more time playing outside again, and perhaps it would also help him recover from his recent lethargy. Spring was when life returned to every being, a new beginning after months of merciless, unyielding cold.

It was supposed to be. Watari made the foolish mistake of daring to believe once again.

On a bed of sakura petals, as if he had simply fallen asleep from the exhaustion of play, his little fletching lay unmoving and unresponsive upon his return from gathering lavender melons.

It must be anger that he’d felt, enraged by their broken promise. It must be, because it felt red-hot and it ate away at him from within. Grief was cold, heavy, palpable. This was not grief. It festered and churned in the cavity meant for a heart and the divine puppet detested it, clawed at it until skin broke and artificial ichor stained his white robes a color he did not recognize. He'd torn at himself, thrashed and screamed his throat raw.

Yet the sensation remained, swarming and squirming within him like stubborn insects.

He did not deserve this, did not deserve to be thrown away and live a life of constant abandonment. He resented his creator for leaving him with this curse, granting him a hole in his chest that he could fill only to have it all taken away from him in the end. He resented the gods for their inaction, their cowardice even when it came to saving the lives of their own people. If only the vixen had sent aid as promised, if only his mother had bothered to take responsibility for the curse of the god she had slain with her own hands. If only the tatarigami did not exist, if only the puppet had the power to change anything, anything at all.

(If Beelzebul truly valued the idea of “eternity” to such extremes, then why didn’t his matter to her?)

He watched as the flames ate away at the charred remains of the hut, watched the flickering shadows dance across the ground and trees like restless wraiths. He imagined them burning away whatever that had formed in place of his heart, leaving him pure and empty once more. He needed such human sentiments no longer, wanted them no longer. His reasons to be human were all gone.

But if the gods still wanted to punish him, then he was not going to stay quiet. If this was his fate, then he renounced it, rejected it. He was discarded for being weak? Useless? He'll make them eat their words. They’d taken everything from him, over and over again—he’ll show them how it felt to be torn apart after just being put together, how he had been created just to be wretched.

And he would begin with his very own mother and the land she had sacrificed so much to protect.

Watari would no longer exist from that day on, and the puppet would thus begin calling himself Kunikuzushi.

The device pulsed in his chest as he awoke from an induced slumber, the Doctor’s unsettling grin the first thing that greeted him as soon as he opened his eyes. Power coursed through his veins like electricity, liquid miasma tainting his blood. Kunikuzushi felt it slowly changing him, ridding the last remnants of his useless humanity and finally bringing him one step closer to achieving his rightful godhood.

It mattered not to him, at first. His fury blazed and he lashed out at any chance he got, finding vicious satisfaction in seeing others cower and quiver before him. This was what it meant to be strong, to be in control. The invincibility, the security. He cannot be hurt, and his mechanical heart cannot be broken. He was no longer the powerless Watari from days past who could only ever resort to begging for help he’d long learned he would never receive.

He was no longer who he used to be, gradually changing beyond even his own recognition. He became more manipulative, vengeful. More volatile. The persistent unease gnawing away at him only made his temperament worse. Kunikuzushi knew full well that it was all amplified by the device implanted into his chest, an accursed core that he was promised would only serve as a placeholder until he wrenched the Gnosis out of Beelzebul’s hands.

But a tainted, twisted heart was still a heart, and to the divine puppet, despite all the lies he’d told himself time and again, it was still better than not having one at all. Better than the all-consuming emptiness, better than the constant reminder that he had once made a heart of his own before it was shattered to irreparable pieces.

It was a horrible feeling, watching himself morph into something so muddled, formless and hideous—yet Kunikuzushi saw no other choice but to grow accustomed to it. What would he have left if not the dying embers of his hatred? What had he been able to accomplish without the mad scientist’s tampering? Nothing—he had been nothing.

Even now, he knew he was still nothing, deep down. The god of frost obviously saw him as merely another pawn for her disposal, and neither the Harbingers nor members of the Fatui were keen to approach him unless absolutely necessary. It was a mutual sentiment; Kunikuzushi was not there to find a sense of belonging. The land of eternal winters was hardly a place for him to call home.

Home was where Katsuragi would often slip out at night and dance to music only he could hear. It was where Nozomu would scramble to tidy up his drawings before the Chief Inspector returned to a mess of papers strewn across the floor. It was where Kinjiro would watch the others quietly from a corner while penning letters to his parents back in his hometown far away.

It was where Nagamasa would often speak of his wife and daughter with unimaginable pride.

And it was where the divine puppet spent many freezing days of his own in the companionship of a child whose laughter was warmer than the hearth of their home.

What would they see, Kunikuzushi wondered, if they gazed upon him now? Would they see him as the monster he’d become, or would he still be the pure, undefiled Watari in their eyes? Would they tell him to stop pursuing meaningless vengeance and just go back?

Would they understand that it was far too late for him to go back?

After all, there was nothing left for him to return to, nor was there a future left for him to anticipate. Kunikuzushi planned to exact revenge on his creator and then end it all right there. He was exhausted, miserable and empty.

Yet still, he wished for salvation.

The Traveller was bright and golden, the textbook definition of a hero. Making him his enemy was almost laughably easy. He was simply so fiercely protective of his friends; Kunikuzushi almost envied it. But that did not matter. The outlander’s feats travelled far and wide; he was strong, dazzling and just. He was a star, a ray of hope. He was everything Kunikuzushi was never destined to be.

Which was why he had to be the perfect person to set him free and bring his final chapter to an end.

_____________________________________________________

A/N: Watari is derived from "watarimono 渡り者" which means "wanderer" according to jisho and also because i think its cute o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

#genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche (genshin impact)#ver 3.1 spoilers for moochi's backstory #fanfiction #i realized how hard it is for a fic to get attention without a ship tag and thought eh why not #lets flop on tumblr too fksjld #if i have the time ill slowly chuck some of my other oneshots here too!!

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scintillasofbeomgyu · 4 years ago

Text

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

❥𝓔𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓮

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑠! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 × 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑒! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠/ 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~"𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." - 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝐾𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑧𝑎𝑛.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

"Eros, my darling son.......come here for a minute."

The golden haired goddess gently stroke the dove that was nestled in her embrace, her eyes fixated on the ray of light that shone through the crystal windows of her palace.

She heard the footsteps of her beloved child stop right in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down in obeisance to her, his arm rested across his chest.

"Yes mother?" The snowy white haired deity awaited her instructions.

"I've been rather uneasy lately my love. Very uneasy." She waved her hand and he slowly rose up, eyes meeting hers.

"Why is that?"

The Olympian got up from her seat, sending the little dove flying away to perch itself on one of the trees that decorated the room. Gracefully, she paced around the room, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, fingers tapping against each other as she mused about the current situation.

"There's been....some unsettling rumors being spread in the mortal world and it has reached Olympus..."

Eros waited for her to continue. It must have been something very grievous for her to be so out of sorts, and this was the same goddess who didn't fear the consequences when her long life affair with his father, Ares, was discovered.

She peered down the window, sneering at the city below that was barely visible with all the clouds covering a vast majority of it.

"Apparently one of the daughter's of the King of Athens is said to be remarkably beautiful....."

She paused as she took a deep breath, jaw clenching as she sputtered out the next words.

"So enchanting that they dare compare her to me....Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty itself....

They've even begun to bring gifts and worship her on the day they're supposed to pay respect and praise to me!"

Eros flinched slightly when she hastily turned around and marched past him, tipping over a table that held a tray with a golden tea set. But he didn't stop her, so used to his mother's infantile tantrums, although he was pretty shocked to hear the severity of the issue. To worship a mere mortal, one who was so far below one of the gods, and not just any god, but one of the 12 Olympians themselves, was inconceivable.

Aphrodite clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to control her fury threatening to seek vengeance.

"I need you to go down there and find out who she is. And when you find her.....shoot her." She commanded him.

Eros nodded, understanding what she was asking of him.

"Who would you like me to have her fall for?"

Aphrodite groaned in annoyance.

"Oh! I don't know! Anyone or anything! An old haggard beggar, a toad, have her go mad over a tree stump for all I care! Just make her go insane!" She threw a cluster of grapes across the room, scaring the flock of doves who flew away to different parts of the room.

"As you wish my goddess."

Eros bowed to his mother one last time before retreating out of the hall, and going to his own chambers to prepare his necessary equipment for the journey. He too was curious to find out just how captivating this woman really was.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The young girl sighed softly as she looked at all the smoke coming out from the temple, the light scent of incense could be made out from her bedroom window. She was well aware and against what was going on in there. It was utterly disrespectful of her father to allow them and even encourage his citizens to offer sacrifices to her in Aphrodite's sacred temple, and on her very own yearly celebration. Had they no fear of a wrath from the gods?

She simply looked away and went to her own little corner where she made a small shrine dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love and fertility. She admired the small marble figurine of the goddess herself, and straightened out the roses and pearls surrounding it. She lit fire to a few myrtles and let them burn in a small ash tray as she murmured one of the many hymns in devotion to the deity. If she wasn't so soft hearted, she would have finished it off with sacrificing one of the best doves that were kept in the stables, but she could never bring herself to do that. She hoped the goddess would understand and forgive her, or at least, try to appease her for all the foolishness her father was causing.

She straightened her nightgown and crawled under the blankets of her grand bed. She was exhausted from the day's festivities and from the guilt and fear eating her alive. She shut her eyes, secretly hoping it was nothing but a bad dream and when she awoke, everything would be fine and back to the ways it was meant to be. She soon was fast asleep, only movements coming out of her body were the rising of her chest, signaling her breathing.

A soft thud landed on her balcony. The being looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen him. Not that it mattered, even if they did, they would tremble away in fear. Pushing the window open, he let himself inside the girl's bedroom, the one they reverenced as Psyche. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed which he cautiously approached. His hand reached out to pull away at the drapes covering the sleeping figure.

"Let's see who is it that is said to rival Aphrodite."

Eros pulled the drape away, letting the moonlight behind him shine on the face of the occupant on the bed. His arm fell to his side, slapping slightly against his thigh as he took in the beautiful countenance of the woman sleeping peacefully in front of him. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was indeed real. She was absolutely breathtaking, almost ethereal, never had his sight been blessed by such radiant and magnificent beauty, and he'd spent some time around Poseidon's Nereids.

Without realizing it, his hand reached out to caress her face or simply push back a lock of her hair, he himself didn't know what he was doing. But a small shifting of position on her part made him retract his hand, elbow grazing on the leather of the pouch on his back.

That's right. He still had a mission to carry out.

His arm reached back and grabbed an arrow from the pouch. He then proceeded to hover his hand above the tip, humming the soft incantation that would allow him to pierce the girl's heart and render her insane for the first object she saw. As he chanted, she began to stir in her sleep, putting Eros on guard, hoping she wouldn't wake up. He took in how her once peaceful expression, showed now sorrow and pain. It somehow pained him to see such a beautiful girl seem so troubled. He was so lost in her gaze that he didn't realise it until it was too late...

Until he felt the sharp tip of the arrow prick into his palm, even piercing the skin. Eros widened his eyes as he quickly yanked the arrow out, flinging it across the room. He looked at his hand, no blood coming out because he was an immortal, but he still clutched it as he felt an overwhelming pain and flutter course through his entire body. His heart started to pump at a faster pace, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to look away, but his mind forced him to look back at the unsuspecting girl on the bed.

"Oh no......what have I done?" He whispered softly.

Feeling dizzy, he scurried out the window, not caring anymore about being seeing in the dark of night, he just knew he wanted to back in Olympus as soon as possible. He flew back into the heavens, discarding only a few white feathers on his desperate flight back.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Psyche stood in front of the mirror, trying not to gaze at her own reflection, which she thought of as more of a curse than a blessing. She simply let her maids comb and adorn her hair as they wished and wrap a golden belt around her lilac colored tunic.

"My lady would you like breakfast brought to you or would you prefer to go down to the dining room?" One of them inquired.

She shook her head.

"I won't be taking breakfast today thank you."

The maids exchanged a puzzled look between each other but decided not to pry any longer. They simple allowed their mistress to wander off to the castle's pavilion located in the center of the gardens.

She preferred being alone these days, avoiding as many people as possible, but especially her father. Lately he had been rambling and complaining non stop at the lack of suitors coming to propose marriage to her. It'd been almost a year since he put out the announcement that she was of age and ready to be betrothed to any suitable prince or monarch, he had even raised the dowry triple what it was originally worth, but still, no one had come to claim her or propose.

"Perhaps it's just as well." She thought to herself. It wouldn't surprise her if this was how Aphrodite was showing her anger, by making her face the humiliation of being unwedded and childless.

Perhaps the biggest thing bothering her was the fact men just came to admire her beauty, but seemed to never really fall in love with her, and she herself couldn't fall in love either. Was she just a pretty face for people to gawk and fawn over? Was she destined to feel lonely and empty for the rest of her life?

"Little Psyche out here all alone?"

She stiffened when she heard the voice of her eldest sister, Amara, from behind her. Small steps let her know she was entering the pavilion and soon enough, she felt her presence stand right next to her.

"I wanted to be alone. That's all." She explained, although she really didn't feel the need to.

Her sister hummed softly.

"Would one really think that to be such a good idea? Father would be concerned if anything happened to his precious and beautiful Psyche, especially after that incident of the arrow in your room."

She was getting irritated at this point, her hand gripping harshly at the side of her tunic, creasing it slightly.

"That was many months ago Amara.....and I've said before that I don't like the title given to me by my father and the people....."

She took a deep breath before stating firmly:

"My name is Y/N and I shall be referred as such."

Her sister was taken aback by her sharp tone, but paid no attention to it. She opted for plucking some of the little violets that surrounded one of the pillars.

"As you wish....after all, anything you say is practically law. Anything you desire, you'll get." Her voice was laced with envy.

Y/N shook her head.

"Not everything."

Although she was referring to the fact her father refused to listen to her in the matter of Aphrodite's temple, her sister wrongly thought she meant the matter of matrimony.

"Oh don't worry little sister. Father is to go visit the Oracle of Delphi to seek help from Apollo in regards to your.......shameful circumstances."

Y/N couldn't stand it anymore. It's not that she hated her sister, but lately she seemed to enjoy in taking delight of her misery and pain, hurting her with her mock pity and double sided remarks.

"If you'll excuse me Amara, I shall go back inside."

Y/N was barely 4 feet away when her sister dismissed her.

"See you later......Psyche."

Y/N refused to eat during the entire day, worrying her loyal and trustworthy maids.

"But Miss....you must eat at least a little. Whatever shall you do if your beauty fades away?"

'Then I shall be content.'

She only thought those words but didn't say them out loud. She felt bad about her maids attending to her with such tenderness that she forced herself to at least eat some of the grapes in front of her. It seemed to put her maids more at ease and Y/N was happy about it.

"Anything in particular you wish for us to do Miss?"

There was one thing she really wanted. Something everyone around her never seemed to do anymore.

"Could you......could you please call me Y/N?"

The two women looked back and forth at each other, unsure of whether to refer to the princess in such an informal way.

"Please?"

Y/N was just craving to be reminded of who she truly was, be assured about her existence and her true person. Both women smiled fondly at her before curtsying to her.

"Lady Y/N."

She felt her heart full with warmth and felt happier in that moment than she had felt in the last 8 months that had gone by. But that happiness was short lived when her door swung open, her other sister, Melia rushing in, looking out of sorts and with fear in her eyes.

"Melia? What's wrong?"

Y/N stood up, but it was her sister who clutched onto her and sobbed on her neck.

"Oh poor Psyche! Why must this have happened to you? To my dear little sister?"

Y/N didn't know what to make of this, but it must be something dreadful if her usually composed and quiet sibling was hysteric. She pulled her back to take in her countenance.

"Tell me. What is it?" Y/N pleaded.

Melia pursed her lips before recounting what she heard and witnessed.

"Father came back from meeting with Apollo's Oracle......and Psyche, it's dreadful!"

Y/N gulped slightly. Although she was expecting the answer to not be a favorable one, she was not expecting this outburst.

"Tell me Mel.......am I not to get married ever?"

Y/N braced herself for the negative response.

Melia shook her head though.

"No Psyche.....it's much much worse than that."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that. What could there possibly be that was worse than not getting married?

"The Oracle told father that your husband has already been chosen for you. He gave us instructions that we are to deliver you to the top of Mount Lycabettus, dressed in black and to leave you there...."

She sniffled and held her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Will my husband meet us there?" She questioned.

Melia shook her head no.

"Well- then how can we be married?" She was beyond puzzled at this point.

"We don't know Psyche, the Oracle only said to deliver you. One thing is sure Psyche. Your husband is not mortal."

Y/N would have rejoiced at the information would it not have been for the terror in her sister's eyes.

"Melia tell me.....who exactly is my husband?"

Melia seemed troubled to reveal more information to her, but she knew she had to say it.

"We don't know. He refused to tell father. All he mentioned was that he flies through the skies and even the gods are terrified of him.....

"Psyche....I fear you're destined to marry a monster..."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The girl watched as her parents, sisters and their husbands disappeared from sight, not even leaving behind their footprints to keep her company. Crouching down, she settled herself onto the ground, her arms wrapping around to hug her knees. She sighed in despair as she thought about what was going to happen to her now. Was her new husband really a monster? It seemed to be the only logical explanation if even gods were afraid of him. The only thing she could think of was....

A titan?

'No it can't be.'

She quickly discarded that thought. All of the titans were locked away in Tartarus. And the world would have definitely known if a titan had gotten out.

She anxiously waited for a sign, a movement of some kind, but nothing ever came. All she had to accompany her besides her solitude was the light breeze that blew some of her hair in front of her face. She shivered slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she rubbed them with her hands. She faintly noticed that the wind seemed to be getting a little more heavier, and it seemed as though fog started to appear around her. But Y/N couldn't really pay attention to it as she felt herself getting drowsy and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the feeling was overtaking her. Her eyes ended up closing as she fell back onto the moss underneath her, falling fast asleep without even knowing why.

While asleep, she felt a strange sensation of being lifted up and carried up into the sky, almost as if though she were flying.....but that was surely impossible? But it felt so real. She had a fantastical dream of flying above the peak of mountains, drift through the clouds in the sky and somehow even be close to the stars. She felt as if she were being carried in the arms of some strong entity. And at the end, she could faintly hear a voice assure her:

"Have no fear little one, for you are truly loved."

Awakening hours later, when it was even darker and more deep into the night than before, she sat up and looked around at her surroundings. The green moss from before was no longer accompanying her. Instead, she awoke to find herself placed on an ivory marble resting bench. Beautiful varieties of roses surrounded what she guessed to be a very beautiful and luxurious garden. Her hand reached out to caress one of them, its petals being one of the most soft things she'd ever felt.

Standing up, she followed the stone path that was right in front of her. A tiny river flowed through the garden, a slight trickling sound was the only noise that was heard. She stopped when a grand and extravagant mansion stood before her. It was 10 times more beautiful and seemed more expensive than the very castle she grew up in. Cautiously, she over to the front door, which seemed to be made out of pure gold, pearls adorning the edges of them.

Y/N was about to knock on it, but to her surprise, the doors opened by themselves. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes bulging out as her eyes took in the hall in front of her. Clean and neatly polished marble floor, crimson red silk drapes covering large and vast windows, the furniture looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her hand was gliding over the ottoman in the center of it when a voice called out:

"Welcome mistress! We have been expecting you!"

She whipped her head around, then looked at all directions, but found no one standing anywhere near her.

"Who...who are you?" Y/N fearfully looked at the ceiling then at every corner, wondering where the voice was.

"We're your servants mistress." A chorus of at least 5 women rang out, puzzling her even more.

"Where....are you?"

The invisible women giggled amongst themselves.

"We are right here next to you mistress. I'm afraid you just can't see us."

Y/N watched as a silver pitcher was lifted up in the air, pouring what seemed to be wine in a glass cup, which was then hovered right in front of her.

"Wine mistress?"

Y/N hesitantly took the cup, indeed feeling someone's weight let go of it. She took a small sip of the wine, its rich and crisp flavor enticing her to drink more of it.

"Would you care for any fruits?" A platter holding strawberries, grapes, cherries and blueberries were held up in front of her. They looked so fresh and ripe, Y/N couldn't help but reach for one of the grapes, her tastebuds becoming completely engaged at how delicious and juicy they were.

She no longer felt disturbed by the faceless voices talking to her, nor about the objects floating around, carrying articles that were being offered to her, and she did not get startled when she heard music filling the room, playing the most sweet and beautiful melody her ears were blessed to hear. She just let her invisible attendants feed her some exotic foods that she never even knew existed. She also didn't mind them guiding her to a lavatory, where there was a bathtub, the size of a large pond already waiting for her. She nearly slipped into another deep sleep when she stepped inside, the warm water relaxing her muscles while the scent of lavender calmed and eased her mind. After washing her body, her maids oiled and scented her body with vanilla and jasmine while they dried her. She saw as a periwinkle blue robe was extended towards her and Y/N slipped into it, her hands caressing the soft, velvet material, smoothing the folds on her waist and hips.

"Oh mistress! You look so beautiful!" One of them cheerfully exclaimed.

"You're the most beautiful creature we've been honored to serve." Another piped in.

"We're so happy to have you here with us. It shall be a lot more livelier now." She heard someone chuckle.

"I think our job for tonight is done. My lady, please step into the room behind the other door. The master will join you shortly."

Y/N was so filled with bliss and contentment, that she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. Recalling her sister words, she begged her maids not to leave her, but they apologized and retreated to who knows where, leaving her by herself once again. Her hand reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before she stepped into the next room.

Y/N tried to move around in the space, but it was extremely difficult because the room was pitch black. She could barely make out the outlines of the chairs, the bed draped with curtains or the dressers. On the corner, she saw a single window, but the curtains were drawn, and even if it was open, the dark night would hardly help her see any better. Y/N out stretched her arms, grabbing onto the empty void around her to maneuver herself to the bed, where she settled down into, hugging her knees like she did back when her family left her on top of the mountain.

She rocked herself back and forth as many thoughts ran over her mind:

'When will he arrive? Will he be kind or not? What will he look like....

And who was he?'

Y/N rested her hands on her arms that were hugging her knees, her eyes closing, but she wasn't tired at all. She just wished time would speed up faster and someone could explain to her what was going on. She felt a light breeze suddenly pass through the room. Looking up, she saw that the curtains by the window had been moved, pushed slightly open, letting just the dimmest sliver of light pour in, but she still couldn't see anything.

She felt something .....someone else in the room with her. On edge, she quickly sat up from the bed and tried to make way back to the other room.

"You have nothing to fear my dearest Y/N."

She halted at the sound of her name. She was expecting to be called that odious title she was often referred to, but instead, she heard her very own name.

"How....how do you know my name?"

The deep, baritone voice spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fitting for a husband to not know his own wife's name, don't you think?"

Y/N eased slightly at his words but still felt nervous.

"Where...are you?" She took small steps, eyes squinting to see something, anything.

She felt a rush of warmth fill up her body when a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"I'm right here beside you, where I shall always be."

She didn't tremble at his touch, on the contrary, she relaxed and her fear was suddenly gone. Whoever the stranger was, he slowly turned her around to face him. She could make out a bit of his outline, but still couldn't define any of his features or details.

"Why aren't there any lamps? I can't see you."

Lifting her hand, he placed it on his cheek, his skin feeling as soft as a petal.

"See me with your touch my love."

Her hand delicately traced his features, trying to imagine what he looked like. He had a very sharp jawline, a well defined nose and delicately carved lips that tempted her to reach up and kiss them. She was still confused as to why she couldn't see him though. As if on cue, he spoke:

"I know it must be difficult for you to understand this Y/N. But please don't be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Y/N retracted her hand.

"My...my sister said you're a monster."

He chuckled heartedly, his voice full of music and splendor.

"Do I feel like a monster or sound like one?"

Y/N giggled softly, realizing it did seem silly.

"If you're not a monster though......why can't I see you?"

She could feel the man in front of her think about how to answer her. Sighing softly, he took her hand again, holding it with his two hands and running a thumb on the top of it.

"I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to that question yet...."

She felt her heart sink at his words. She lowered her head in disappointment. Not wanting to upset her more, he kissed the palm of her hand and swore:

"Just please trust me Y/N, and I'll promise to love you forever......can you trust me?"

Maybe she was mad or delusional, but in spite of all the mystery surrounding him, she sincerely felt the veracity of his promise and had no doubt in her mind about trusting him. She moved closer to him, accidentally stepping too far and colliding with his firm chest.

"Umph!" Y/N groaned slightly.

He giggled softly at her cute action. He saw as she tried to reach out again to feel him, but instead pulled her hand away.

"You can touch me love."

Her hands once again traced his smooth face, traveling down his neck before resting on his broad shoulders. Although he felt somewhat slim, his body seemed very toned and vigorous. Y/N wanted to drop her hands further but she felt to shy to do it. Once again, he read her mind.

"Y/N....it's ok. We're married." He drew out that last word, more to himself than to her.

Her hands pressed down across his chest. She could tell his tunic was made out of fine linen, even if she couldn't see it. His chest felt strong and sturdy, she bit her lip slightly as she pictured what it would look like in the light, without his garment.

She gasped when she felt him pull her against him, his breath against her lips, just wanting to close the space between them and kiss her. His finger traced the curve of her luscious and plump lips. Although she was content with everything he'd said so far, there was just one more question she had:

"I....... I don't know what to call you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean....you know my name....but you never told me yours." She pulled away slightly.

He realized she was right. She felt him smile at her as he brought her face close to his again.

"Please call me Yeosang." Her heart fluttered when she heard his name.

Yeosang brushed his lips against hers.

"Trust me my dear. I love you with all my heart."

Y/N melted at his words and before she knew it, she whispered back:

"I love you too....Yeosang."

As soon as she spoke out those words, Yeosang could no longer control himself as he enclosed his lips over hers in a passionate and loving kiss. Y/N blushed at being kissed for the first time in her life, but happily returned the gesture, surprised that she easily could. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Yeosang was beautiful, ethereal and very kind...

And she was already falling in love with him.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

It had been roughly 4 months into their marriage and Y/N was extremely happy. He'd visit her in the dead of night everyday, as usual, in the pitch black so she couldn't see him, but she had grown accustomed to that. He'd usually leave before she was even awake and before the sun would even start coming out. He'd always leave a red rose by her dresser everyday, attached with a small note filled with terms of endearment and vows of love and adoration for her, always succeeding in making her blush.

Y/N was more than content. Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she wouldn't turn away nor hate the face she saw. She came to love her appearance now, because there was light and love in it. She was in love, she was loved and there was no greater feeling than that.

During the day, she would either spend time outside in the garden or inside, her maids, or rather, their presence, always keeping her company. She loved listening to their stories about the world she was now a part of, finding them extremely fascinating. They were all so gentle and caring towards her, attending to her every needs and overall staying by her side so she wouldn't get lonely.

"Won't you tell us something about where you are from for once Mistress?"

Y/N was elated, happily telling them all about her home, her family, how she grew up and various other aspects of her life.

"You seem very close to your family Misstress." One of them observed.

"I am. I love them very much, and I have such fondness for my sisters...."

She stopped at the moment. It hit her how she hadn't heard from her family since she got there, nor did they have any idea of her whereabouts or her fate. Her heart suddenly felt sad as she began missing them terribly.

"Mistress is something wrong?"

Y/N quickly plastered a smile back on her face, not wanting them to be concerned at all. Instead suggesting they all play a game together so she wouldn't think about it. But it was futile. Her mind kept thinking back to her family. She missed them more and more. She hardly ate anything else for the rest of the day, instead opting to go to her room rather early, even though it'd be hours before Yeosang got there. She wept silently, her tears staining the pillow underneath her face. She tried to keep a positive and cheerful attitude when he did finally got there, but he could sense that something was troubling his beloved wife.

"What's bothering you my love?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"I miss my family...."

Yeosang tightened his embrace around her, his lips kissing her temple. Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent that always calmed and soothed her mind.

"They must be so worried about me. They probably don't even know if I'm alive or not." She continued to pour out her distress.

Yeosang was pensive for a moment, wondering what he could do to help his sweetheart.

"Would you like to write to them? I can have someone give it to them." He offered.

Although Y/N found it kind of him to offer it, more than anything, she wanted to see them.

"I was actually wondering......if maybe they could come see me?" She reluctantly asked.

She very well noticed how Yeosang tensed up. Even in the darkness, she had learned to read his body language and knew he was hesitating about what to respond.

"I......I'm not sure that's a good idea love..."

Yeosang's heart felt when he heard a disappointed sigh escape her lips. It hurt her to see her in such a state. All he wanted was to make her happy. So although there were going to be risks, he agreed.

"They can't meet me. But if you wish, I can have Zephyr bring them here just like he brought you."

Y/N became so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Cupping Yeosang's face, she kissed him fervently, her reaction making Yeosang chuckle.

"Does it really make you that happy?" He questioned as he caressed her face.

Y/N nodded happily.

"So I take it you won't need anything else tonight?"

Well....there was actually one more thing. Y/N bit her lip as she stared up at Yeosang with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh.....I see."

Y/N could hear the smugness in his voice, but she didn't care. Not when he lips made her melt, when his hands caressed and fondled her tenderly and especially not when he slid in and out of her in such a passionate and loving way, bringing her into such a euphoric state. Another thing she discovered about Yeosang: he was an amazing lover, she almost felt drunk in his love whenever his body became one with hers.

Yeosang let out a grunt when he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around him as she also reached her own high. Without pulling out, Yeosang bent down to kiss her again, his hand reaching down to press against her stomach.

"I can't wait until you become pregnant with my child. I bet you'll look even more lovely than what you already are."

Y/N felt her face flush at his words. Suddenly feeling confident, she teased him.

"How about we try again? Just in case."

Yeosang sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at her hips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, moans slipping out of her lips as Yeosang moved inside of her once again, this time at a more fast and rough pace than before.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N offered more pastries to her sisters. Melia excitedly accepted them, loving how rich and exquisite the foods at her little sister's place were. Amara however refused, her eyes still looking around at the place. She was very put off by how strange Y/N's circumstances were. The weird wind that transported them there, the invisible servants, the fact they could not meet her husband? It was extremely confusing. But most of all, she was insanely jealous of how Y/N was living. Her mansion was 10 times better than hers, the food was of better quality than what was served at her castle and everything was just so much more expensive.

"You seem to be...very happy here." Amara pointed out, her lips pursed tightly.

Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"I'm more than happy. I love it here. And I love my husband."

"Such a shame we couldn't meet him. Do you know when we will get the opportunity?" Melia asked.

"Oh...umm.....the thing is...you can't meet him..." Y/N fumbled with the sash across her dress.

Her two older sisters looked at her incredulously, then they looked at each other with a suspicious look.

"So is it true then? That he's a monster with scaly skin, serpent tongue and sharp teeth?" Melia looked frightened.

Y/N slammed her fist on the table, outraged that they'd dare think such things of Yeosang like that.

"He's not a monster! He's beautiful, absolutely handsome and the most kind being I have ever met!"

Her outburst made them even more curious.

"Then tell me Psyche, what does he look like?" Amara raised an eyebrow.

"It's Y/N! My name is Y/N. And.....I......I don't know! But I just know he's beautiful!"

Melia seemed puzzled.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

Feeling cornered, Y/N had no choice but to tell them how her husband would only visit her at night, shrouded in darkness and whisper loving words in her ear. That only served to sprout out more questions from her siblings.

"How can you possibly be in love with him if you've never seen him?"

"I just am!" Y/N exclaimed.

"If he doesn't see you during the day, where does he go to?" Amara pressed on.

"I don't know." Y/N answered.

Not wanting to miss the chance to hurt her younger sister, Amara smirked wickedly at her.

"I bet I know where."

It took Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what her sister was implying, but when she did, it only served to further anger her.

" You're wrong. I know What you're thinking and you're wrong. Yeosang loves me!" She was fuming at this point.

Amara however rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

"All right. Let's say he really is as handsome as you say he is. Why must he be so stubborn about not letting you see him nor know where he goes off to?"

Y/ N crossed her arms.

"I don't know. He asked me to trust him and I do".

Melia now seemed concerned for her.

"Psyche... do you not realize that maybe ...... he could be seeing other women while he's away?"

Y/N now froze at what her sister said. Her brain kept telling her not to listen to them, that Yeosang was faithful to her and would never lie to her. But then she remembered how her own sister's husbands behaved and she couldn't help but think if perhaps Yeosang would do anything similar like them.

"No..... it can't be true...."

Amara suspiciously came up behind Y/N, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"If he really did love you.....why would he force you to live with such doubts?"

That was the final drop that made the glass tip over. Y/N had to find out who exactly it was that was sleeping with her every night.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited until Yeosang was fast asleep, his breathing calm and serene. Carefully, she peeled herself from his grasp and crept out of the bed and to one of the dressers. She silently took out a candle and match that she had secretly hid inside. Walking as cautiously as she could, she stood by the edge of the bed where Yeosang was. Taking a deep breath, she striked the match and lit up the candle, holding it up so she could finally see him for the very first time.

Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. He was absolutely glorious. His hair was white like the snow in winter, skin fair like marble ivory, his jawline was chiseled to perfection with a nose that seemed to have been carved to perfection. And he layed there, sleeping soundly with absolutely no clue that she had just betrayed his trust.

"Oh no.....what have I done?"

Y/N was so horrified with herself that she unconsciously tumbled backwards, hitting herself on a piece of furniture. Suddenly Yeosang awoke, his eyes painted with agony once he realized what was happening.

"I.....I can explain!"

But Yeosang simply sat up without a word, already reaching for his tunic. He sighed as he stood up and walked towards the window.

"Please forgive me Yeosang! I beg you!"

Y/N dropped to her knees, tears pouring out her eyes. Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, head full of turbulent thoughts that he couldn't place in order.

"Please just say something!" She cried out, desperate to hear his voice.

"I knew it would be a bad idea to let you see your sisters. I knew they'd turn you against me and actually betray me...."

If they were still in the dark, Y/N would have still been able to recognize the hurt and pain in his words.

"I'm sorry Yeosang! I'm sorry for not trusting you! But I kept thinking about their words, they said you were probably visiting other-"

"You could have chosen to not listen to them! No one forced you to believe them! You chose to act on your own accord!".

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, and it boomed all over the room, making her tremble in fear. Yeosang opened the window and stepped out into the balcony.

"No no! Please!"

Y/N ran after him, her hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep him there. Gently, he pried her hands off him, looking somberly at her.

"My mother told me not to trust you. That you were a mortal woman and would never understand me or us, and break my trust. I could never believe that she was right....."

Y/N saw as tears filled on the brim of his eyes.

"But I was too madly in love to listen to her..... I guess I truly did get a taste of my own medicine."

Yeosang made way to leave again, but Y/N held onto him.

"Please don't leave me! I'll die without you! I love you Yeosang!"

Not able to contain his feelings anymore, Yeosang pushed her off him and turned sternly to her.

"Don't.....ever say such lies again...and don't address me so informally you lowly mortal. I am not your equal and I am no longer Yeosang to you..."

Y/N covered her mouth in terror and astonishment when ethereal and shiny wings sprouted from his back, making him look even more heavenly than he already was.

"I am Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, the god of love ......... and you......."

He sniffled as tears streamed down his face.

"I can't stay here knowing that I want to hold you..."

Without any other word, speedily flew out of there, disappearing from her sight. Y/N shouted for him, going mad at the thought that she had just lost the love of her life. She was so erratic that she didn't think twice before she flung herself down the balcony, not wanting to live without her love. Unfortunately for her, a large gust of wind stopped her fall, placing her gently on the ground, thwarting her plan.

"Let me die!" Y/N pounded the ground.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Psyche. Aside from being tasked to bring you here, Eros appointed me to make sure no harm should ever come to you."

Although it was supposed to be calming, Zephyr's voice only angered her.

"So I can't even die?!"

Zephyr sent a small breeze, the only physical way of comfort he could bring her since he was invisible.

"Psyche, we both know you don't actually want to die."

"Yes I do! My heart is broken. My love is gone and it's because of my foolishness. I have nothing else to live for!" She declared.

Zephyr sighed.

"My lady....all hope is not lost. I may perhaps.....know a way of helping you."

Y/N perked her ears at his words.

"But first, allow me to tell you a little story, one you don't know about but in which you were the main protagonist."

Y/N watched as a swirl of clouds formed above her, Zephyr trying to make his presence manifested as he began recounting a story:

"Now...it all began when the people began to worship you instead of Aphrodite. I know, we all do you tried to stop them. We weren't blind to it. But Aphrodite is a jealous goddess. She could not stand someone being compared to her. So she sent Eros to you with the task of making you fall in love with a toad or something similar."

Y/N didn't seem too surprised by that. She knew fully well who Eros was and why he was feared even among gods, because no one was immune to his arrows that made them fall in love.

"He came to you one night while you were sleeping. He was so distracted by your beauty that he ended up pricking himself with his own arrow."

Now it made sense to her what he meant when he said he had gotten a dose of his own medicine. She was shocked that this actually happened.

"Eros had fallen in love with you. Curious isn't it, that while you were the most admired woman in the country, no one proposed. Wanna know why? Because Eros stepped in every time, making any suitor fall in love with someone else so they wouldn't take you away from him."

Y/N remembered all those months where no one approached her. Now it all made sense.

"Poor Eros was also begging his mother to let him marry you. But of course, being as stubborn as she is, Aphrodite refused. It became such a quarrel between them that Eros refused to obey her anymore if she didn't agree. Of course, she couldn't have that, so she allowed him to marry you on one condition: your love had to be put to a test....which....I think you know what it was."

Y/N nodded. He asked her to trust him even if she couldn't see him, but she betrayed him.

"Aphrodite probably isn't surprised. She expected it all along. But Eros......he was so in love with you that he put all his faith and trust in your love. And now.....he's probably back home again, moaning and crying just like when he came back that night he met you."

Now the guilt began to eat her up.

"I don't deserve him. I never did. I deserve to die."

Zephyr sighed once again.

"Now now child. As I said. Not all hope is lost. Listen very carefully to me Psyche. Here's what you're going to do."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited for the goddess to arrive. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, playing with the belt on her tunic. She suddenly felt a gush of wind pass by her. Light started to emanate from the ground. Y/N stared in wonder as a powerful entity appeared before her, looking so radiant and angelic that Y/N froze in place before remembering who was standing in front of her. She fell to the ground in honor and respect for the goddess in front of her.

"My goddess Aphrodite. I am your humble servant who has offered sacrifices at your temple and-"

"Oh stop groveling like a little bitch and get up." The goddess sneered at her.

Y/N slowly got up. Aphrodite stepped closer to her, one of her slender fingers tilting her chin up as she closely scanned her rival's face. Bewilderment took over her features, a scoff coming out of her mouth.

"Impressive. Very extraordinary. ..."

She let go of her and backed away.

"Pity though that your eyes are still red and puffy from weeping like a child. It really does not suit you....nevertheless, even I acknowledge you're beautiful and pleasing...."

She crossed her arms.

"No wonder my son is so smitten with you."

Y/N glanced up at the mention of Yeosang.

"Tell me, how is Yeosang? How is my husband."

Aphrodite lifted a hand.

"First of all, you have no right to call him by his birth name. You shall only address him by his godly name you mortals know. And second, he isn't your husband anymore, not after you broke your end of the marriage."

Being reminded of her acts, Y/N once again felt remorseful and ashamed. But she was not about to give up.

"If there's anything I can do to mend things, I'm prepared to do it."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes I know very well you are willing to. Zephyr didn't bring you here just for giggles or a cup of tea. And either way, sooner or later Zeus and Hera would have been on my ass about intervening, not to mention that his father wouldn't leave me alone if he saw the state his son was in."

Y/N beamed with joy at the thought of being able to mend things with her love.

"Thank you oh most merciful goddess!" Y/N resisted the urge to throw her hands around the goddess and hug her.

Aphrodite, however, dismissed her thanks.

"Don't get so happy yet foolish girl. I haven't even told you what the tasks are yet."

Beckoning her to follow, Aphrodite lead her through a meadow and deep into a forest. There, she approached a tall laurel tree and pointed at something on the floor.

"Before your eyes, you see a pile of different types of grains. Your job is simple: separate them all and arrange them into piles."

Y/N's jaw dropped at the task.

"That's impossible! It's not simple!"

Aphrodite merely shrugged. "If you truly love Eros, you'll find a way."

She turned away and began walking back to where she came from, but not before telling her:

"Oh and Psyche? You have until sundown to finish."

Y/N knew the goddess was probably laughing by now, already gloating in her failure and inability to finish such a task. She slumped down on the ground and began picking at the grains. They all looked too similar, there was no way to tell them apart. Y/N flung the grains back in the pile.

"It's hopeless..."

She wasn't offered a second chance, she was merely being humiliated for the own amusement of Aphrodite. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she deserved this....

Suddenly she felt something crawl up on her hand. Looking down, she saw a tiny ant perched on one of her fingers.

"Hello most beautiful mortal. Please don't cry. Let me assure you that this grain will be sorted before Aphrodite comes back."

If Y/N hadn't already seen so miracles and fantasy sightings since she arrived, she would have seriously thought she was insane for thinking an ant was actually talking to her. She watched as thousands of other ants crawled up and began carrying the grains out of the pile, effectively assorting them into neat and tidy piles.

"How are you..?"

The tiny ant let out a squeaky laugh. "This is our specialty my lady. We do this every year."

"But...why are you helping me?" She couldn't understand why they would help her.

"Don't fret about that right now. Leave this all to us and just worry about being reunited with your loved one."

Y/N was touched by their tremendous kindness, thanking them incessantly as they eagerly finished what seemed to not an impossible task for her. True to their word, before the sun set, it was already finished. 5 piles stood in front of her. The ants bid her farewell and good luck for any upcoming tests Aphrodite was going to put on her.

When the goddess came to inspect the work, her eyes nearly bulged out when she saw it was accomplished. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

"I see you finished it....very well. Tomorrow I shall take you to do the second task. But trust me, you won't get very far."

The goddess was so sure Y/N would never be able to finish them, but she didn't count on the fact someone was pulling strings behind the scenes to make sure Y/N would be successful. When Y/N was tasked to collect the gold fleece from the magical sun rams, the mystery person asked the reeds growing on the riverbank near her, to tell Y/N to wait until the rams left the pasture to fall asleep in a meadow, then she'd be able to collect fleece that would usually get caught on the brambles where they often played or fought in. On her third task, she had to collect water from a pit that was guarded by a fearsome dragon. Y/N dared not approach the beast, but once again, the hidden figure sent an enormous eagle to help her by flying her down the pit while the dragon slept so she could fill up the bottle Aphrodite gave her. Y/N asked the eagle, like she did the reeds and ants, why were they helping her, but all of them remained silent, not answering her question. They only wished her luck and encouraged her to stay determined to win back her husband.

Aphrodite took the bottle in her hands, fury in her eyes as she flung it across the room in pure outrage.

"I don't know what kind of tricks you've pulled to accomplish these tasks so easily, but I will not stand for it any longer!"

Determined to make sure Y/N would never see her son no matter the cost, she declared her last mission:

"You must go into the Underworld and bring me Queen Persephone's beauty cream, the one she makes herself. I was going to go there myself....but you can do it for me."

Aphrodite's eyes did not hide her malice or her hatred towards the poor girl.

"But....no human can descend into the Underworld and return!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Then I guess you shall have to be the first."

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Y/N touched the ground softly as Zephyr dropped her down.

"Psyche listen to me very carefully. There is a way for mortals to go into the Underworld and return alive. But pay very close attention or you'll never see the light of day."

Out of thing air, Zephyr made 2 coins and a loaf of bread apart before her.

"The coins are for Charon. He's the boatman that will take you to the Underworld and will also bring you back. The bread is for Cerberus."

Y/N gulped at the mention of the dog that guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You mean.....the one with 50 heads?"

Zephyr laughed.

"You humans sure do like to add charm to stories. No Psyche. Cerberus only has 3 heads. He won't do anything to you while going in, it's when you're getting out that'll be the problem. You see, he's not guarding souls from going in, he guards them from leaving."

Y/N nodded, drinking up all the information he was feeding to her.

"When you're leaving, give a piece to each of the heads, it'll put him to sleep long enough for you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"Got it."

Y/N began walking into the foggy mist, trembling slightly as she realized she was about to be in front of the gates of hell very soon.

"Another thing! Accept no food or drink and do not rest at all! Just go in, take the cream and get out. I'll be waiting here for you."

"Thank you Zephyr."

Y/N wandered through the dense and humid mist that blurred most of her vision. She spotted a light looming out of the water and headed towards it. She stopped when she reached the end of the dock and stood face to face with a dark cloaked figure. Its face was completely hidden by the hood, the only thing she could see were its hands that were holding a staff that was no doubt used to row out boat.

"Are you.....are you Charon?"

The cloaked figure simply nodded very slowly.

"Can you take me to see Queen Persephone?"

Charon did not respond either that time, instead he held his hand out. Y/N now could clearly see that his hand was only bone, absolutely no flesh or skin surrounding it. Although startled, she handed one of the coins to him, which he put into a small purse that he kept tied to his waist. He signalled for her to get in. Y/N had some difficulty getting into the boat, slamming down on it, her bum hardly hitting the wood floor. She was sure if Charon was able to, he'd probably be laughing at her. He waited until she was settled into the boat before he began rowing down the Styx river.

Y/N hugged her knees as her eyes scanned everything. So far only the splashing of water and the silent boatman kept her company. And then a foul and putrid stench filled her nostrils, making her want to gag. As she kept looking around, she noticed what seemed to be people standing by another dock, looking pitiful and some even crying.

"They're the souls of people whose families didn't pay the fee or didn't have a burial upon death." Charon spoke up for the first time, his voice sounded hollow and had somewhat of an echo in it.

She understood what he meant. All people usually put a coin under their deceased loved ones tongue as payment for a ride to the Underworld.

"Will they stay there forever?"

Charon let out a raspy breathe.

"They'll stay there for a hundred years before they're allowed to cross over. Our master is not that cruel as you mortals depict him."

Mention of his master sent Y/N into panic. She was about to meet the actual god of the Underworld and his wife. She shivered as she remembered all she was ever taught about him: her teachers often painted him as a cruel, evil and wrathful god that loved tormenting the souls that were sent to him. The only reason he had a wife was because he kidnapped her, only allowing her to spend time in Olympus for half of the year. Y/N feared seeing him.

"This is the end of your journey."

Y/N saw a colossal black door in front of her. She lifted her hand to knock on it, but wondered if it was even possible for them to hear her. She felt someone or something sneeze by her right side so she turned. First there was only a gigantic dog head that soon turned into three, Y/N almost fainted when it began approaching her. This had to be Cerberus. The hellhound merely scanned her, puzzled as to why an alive human would be there. But he went back to his job and used one of his heads to push open the door for her. Y/N was prepared to see a sea of tormented souls being stirred in fire or some other kind of torture, but instead, she walked in a long and regal corridor, much like the one back home in Athens. Everything was decorated in either black or a deep purple color. At the very end, she saw two thrones side by side, black and made out of hard iron and steel. 2 figures sat by them and when she reached close enough, she was face to face with the rulers of the Underworld.

As per custom, Y/N bowed to them, trembling in the process. The monarchs looked at each other in confusion.

"You are not dead nor dying, what business do you have here?" A male voice inquired.

Y/N swallowed harshly, trying to speak but fear made her paralyzed and unable for recall what she was there to do. Noticing how scared she was, the queen stood up and walked over to her. She gently lifted Y/N up, her hand cupping her chin to look at her. Y/N finally had a glimpse of the Underworld queen and she was mesmerized. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but her beauty was so haunting and eerie, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It made her very unique and therefore more interesting in her eyes. Y/N felt self conscious now. She hadn't properly cleaned up or slept ever since Aphrodite had her do all those tasks, so she probably looked like a mess in front of the beautiful queen.

Persephone merely smiled at her, a genuine and kind smile.

"You're Psyche aren't you?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name. The man behind her also became curious at him mention of it.

"How do you know who I am?" But Y/N soon wanted to slap herself for asking that. She was a goddess, of course she'd know.

The lady chuckled. "Not everyday one meets a face that rivals Aphrodite's. I've heard so much about you."

She turned back and Y/N assumed she was going to take her place on the throne, but instead, she shocked her when she opted to sit on her husbands lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. He visibly stiffened, and Y/N was surprised to see him......blush?

"So tell me. Has the mighty goddess of beauty sent you here for another task?"

Persephone looked back to see Y/N with a mouth wide open.

"We know all about your endeavors to win your husband back. News reaches here first before it reaches Olympus. Gives a little entertainment to us and our subjects you know."

She waved her hand and instantly a grey and cloudy figure appeared before her, offering her wine or food from a platter. She didn't want to seem rude, but she remembered what Zephyr said and thus refused any of it. Persephone chuckled softly.

"Very smart." Persephone observed. She above anyone knew what eating food from the Underworld would mean.

"So tell me Psyche. What has she sent you here for?"

Y/N began explaining how the goddess wanted some of her beauty cream. Persephone rolled her eyes, knowing all too well how vain Aphrodite was. Her fingers stroked through her husband's hair, puzzling Y/N more. If she was kidnapped and forced to marry him, how could she be so....in love with him? Persephone only took her attention away from her husband when another grey figure brought out a box to her. Thanking the servant, she held out the box to Y/N.

"Take this to Aphrodite and be reunited with your love."

Y/N thanked the merciful queen and walked back, now more happy at the thought of seeing Yeosang again. Persephone watched her with a motherly gaze, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

"You seem to be very interested in that human." Hades' voice broke her trance.

"She's an extraordinary girl if you ask me. And she's doing everything for love."

She smirked as she cupped her husband's face.

"Reminds me of a certain someone who also went to great lengths to win the person he loved the most."

The Underworld God cleared his throat.

"Love makes us do crazy things sometimes." He justified himself.

Persephone nodded and leaned in.

"I know. That's why am going to vouch for her when Zeus holds the meeting."

Hades looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

The queen let out a hearty laugh before kissing his lips.

"Married life has made you lose some of your sharpness my dear lord." She teased.

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Y/N successfully fed the bread to the demon hound and made it back across the Styx with Charon's help.

"Thank you Charon." She handed the other coin to him.

"First time anyone has thanked me to the work I do." Although he tried to be neutral about it, Charon's voice had a lighter and more grateful tone to it.

Y/N crossed the swamp again and came back to the meadow where Zephyr had left her. She called me to him, but he did not answer. Y/N sat on the grass and waited for him, growing tired in the process. It had been 4 very long and tiring days and she was beginning to feel the intensity of them. Her eyes began to flutter, trying to stay awake, but tiredness began to overtake her. Her gaze fell on the box she was holding. Feeling curious, she slowly opened the box to peer into its contents. A sudden burst of light shone right in front of her, the power being too much for her and instantly, she fell unconscious on the floor.

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Eros sighed softly to himself, the longing for his wife becoming too unbearable.

"Would you please stop that moaning? It's getting on my nerves." His mother said from the doorway.

"I miss her...." He covered his face with the pillow.

Aphrodite scoffed.

"Seriously this lovesick fool."

Eros ignored his mother, all his thoughts were about Y/N and the last time he saw her. He recalled the harsh words he said to her, regretting them so much, each letter feeling like a stab to his heart. Although it hurt him to have her distrust him, it hurt even more to be separated from her. He wanted her back in his arms, he wanted to kiss her, he was going even more insane than the first time when he pricked himself on his arrow.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the living room, with the way a voice roared like thunder, he knew who had just came in. He got up, ready to intervene in case the two individuals in front of him started getting physical. Not noticing him, they just continued their screaming match.

"I've put up with so many of your antics, but this my dear goddess, is low even for you!"

The anger in his father's voice was unmistakable, but it was even more serious than all the other times he'd quarreled with his mother.

"Oh shut up Ares! I did what I had to do for our dear son."

Aphrodite twirled her hair on her finger, batting her eyelashes at her longtime lover, hoping to seduce him and get his mind off the subject, but this time it didn't.

"No, you did this because you're a selfish, conceited and cruel woman! Putting an innocent girl through so many hardships just for your own amusement! Don't you think Psyche and Eros have been through enough already?"

Now it was Eros' turn to make his presence known.

"What about my wife?"

Both of his parents turned to look at him, one in shock at being discovered and one in sad pity for him and his love. Ares crossed his arms.

"Well? Tell him Aphrodite. Tell him all about the tasks you made Psyche do these past days." He challenged her.

Eros looked at his mother, waiting for her to answer, but she kept her lips shut. Getting fed up, Ares spilled everything to him. Eros immediately got worried.

"Where is she now?"

Ares looked to the goddess in front of him as he did not know what the last task was. Gathering some of the rage he inherited from his father, Eros harshly grabbed his mother and shook her.

"Where is my wife?!"

Aphrodite pushed him off her.

"I sent her to the Hades and Persephone."

Eros wasted no time and grabbed his bow and arrow. The Underworld was dangerous even for a God and he knew he had to go get her before anything happened to her.

"Eros! Don't you dare go after her! She isn't your wife anymore!"

Turning back to his mother, he looked at her in defiance.

"She is my wife. She'll always be my wife. I love her.....and I'm going over to her now."

Spreading his wings, he flew as fast as he could to the swampy forest where she had been hours earlier. He asked the boatman if he had seen her, but Charon only said she had completed her voyage and was headed back home. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was alive. He flew back to his mansion, bursting the doors open, alarming the servants who were no longer invisible. He didn't spare a glance at them, he simply ran upstairs to his room. Slamming the door open, he saw as Zephyr, now in his physical form was hovering over an unconscious Psyche.

"No..."

Eros ran over to her side, taking her hand in his.

"The power inside the box her majesty gave her is too much for a mortal to bear. I've tried everything, but she still shows no sign of waking up. Her body has also been weak these past days due to exhaustion. ....and heartache." Zephyr said somberly.

Eros spilled tears when finding out all she had been through and how much suffering he had put her through.

"I'm so sorry my darling."

His arms encapsulated her in a tight embrace, almost crushing her from the intensity. Eros sobbed uncontrollably. Zephyr decided to retreat from the room, giving him the space he needed.

Brushing out some of her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Please don't leave me.." he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

He heard as she started breathing slowly, pulling away to check on her. Y/N's eyes slowly opened, thinking she was dreaming when she saw her love's handsome face in front of her.

"Yeo- Yeosang?"

His heart started beating faster when he heard her call him by his name.

"Oh Y/N thank Zeus you're all right!"

Y/N held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Yeosang I'm so sorry! I should have listened to you but I was so stupid!"

He hushed her, his hands caressing her arms.

"It's ok. I've forgiven you my darling. I don't care anymore. All I want is for us to be together again."

Y/N hesitated.

"Will we be allowed to?"

Clearing his throat, they both turned their attention to Zephyr who came back.

"Even if Aphrodite won't like it, she'll have no choice but to allow you two to be together after a power greater than her allows it."

Yeosang and Y/N looked at him in confusion. Zephyr once again began explaining:

"I'm sure Y/N..." He smiled when he called her by her real name for the first time.

"You've been curious about why so many creatures helped you while you were performing the tasks for Aphrodite."

Y/N nodded, none of them had told her why they'd help her.

"They were all sent by none other than Zeus, who had been watching all this happen and agreed it was unfair of Aphrodite to put you through such hardships."

The couple couldn't believe their ears. The king of the gods himself intervened on their behalf.

"He looks favorably upon your marriage and has even called a meeting to determine if Y/N should be allowed to become an immortal herself."

Y/N's mouth dropped unable to comprehend his words, but Eros was delighted. He could finally be together with his wife for all eternity, not fearing that one day he'd lose her in death because she was human. He felt so grateful to Zeus.

"It shall be put to a vote and needless to say, your mother won't say yes."

Of course they expected that.

"But fear not. There's already many who are willing to vouch for you. Persephone and Hades for example, Ares, Apollo, Demeter and I'm willing to bet that Dionysus will show up drunk and will agree to anything."

They all let out a chuckle at that.

"I'll let you know what the results are. Zeus agreed it'd be better if you two weren't there. He wants a peaceful meeting without Aphrodite throwing a tantrum."

Leaving them alone, the two lovers stared at each other for a while, unable to believe how lucky they were. Y/N reached up to touch Yeosang.

"It's ok Y/N. I'm real and I promise I won't ever leave you again."

His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

"I love you and I promise to love you my heart......

For all eternity."

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chipper-smol · 4 years ago

Text

Vanilla 2 Chain

Prompt: Hollow experiences phantom limb syndrome

is more angst time

( https://twitter.com/Perfidy19 )

Nothing lasts forever.

That was the last lesson the Hollow Knight received from their father upon being sealed away in the Black Egg Temple.

Nothing lasts. Not Hallownest. Not the Radiance. Not Father.

Not even the Void, as they had discovered during the time they were sealed away, watching as the Infection searing within their arm at last tore away the final, stretched strands. A silent snap, and the detached limb fell to the floor, sinking into the ground in a pool of writhing ink.

It was then that they had realised, finally, the irony of their predicament, the stump left behind burning with the searing rage of the Old Light.

If even the all encompassing Void did not last, then Hallownest’s perpetuation was truly an impossible wish.

They lamented the irony of it all once again, now as they sat hunched over in their current resting spot, in the corner of an abandoned village home. Ironic, how the very one who had wished the most fervently for an eternal kingdom, would also be the one to teach them the inevitability of the end.

The stump where the Infection had once burned now throbbed.

Yes. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the knowledge that they had once believed timeless meant much in the end. The court manners? Hallownest’s upper class was dead, rules hardly mattered anymore. The training their father, the Pale King, had bestowed upon them? Pointless. They barely even had the strength to stand up. The only, right way to deal with the Infection?

Clearly, that information had been wrong from the start, seeing as how their rejected sibling had found another way to do away with it entirely, while they had only managed to buy time.

“Do you want something to eat, Hollow?”

They raised their head at the sound. Hornet scuttled in through the door, her needle clenched in her fist, a bundle of… something wedged under her arm.

“I did not know what your preference was,” she tipped the contents of the bundle onto the floor. Two speared tiktiks and some baby gruzzers rolled onto a bed of dried nuts and grass. “So I brought a bit of everything. But the gruzzers need some treatment before they can be eaten, so-“

Hollow listened as she talked, her bustling, business-like manner reminding them strongly of the late Queen of Deepnest. Hornet had changed since they had last seen her. No longer the scampering grub that they remembered, she had grown up into a fine hunter, perfectly capable of defending herself.

To think that she had once been no taller than the hilt of their nail, wielding a toy needle made of shellwood. It had been amusing to watch her run around the White Palace, full of energy and free from the stiff formalities of the Royal Retainers around her.

Endearing. Inquisitive. A bit of a troublemaker, but her mischief never put anyone in harm's way. They fondly recalled the days when she would take their nail and attempt to swing it around in the same fashion as the Great Nailsage, her little legs teetering under its weight.

Father had never liked when she did that. While Mother merely watched in amusement, he would personally confiscate the nail, then proceed to sternly lecture her on the dangers of sharp, metal objects. Not that she listened.

Father had not liked it either when Hollow was about to learn the way of the nail. Clumsy, he had called them. Without a mind, he claimed, it would be difficult to teach them to properly balance and swing the weapon, let alone fight with it.

And he had been right too. A long time they had spent practicing alone in secret, repeatedly thrashing the heavy training nail up and down, up and down all through the night, trying to imitate the way the Great Knight Dryya had done it.

Up and down, up and down, the weight of the training nail dragging heavy on their arms, the pain of lifting it twisting at their spell hand, the strain tearing through their shell, through their Void, through the bright, bright orange light that-

“-can you even eat?”

Hollow twitched in surprise, shaking their head clear of the pained haze originating from the stump of their arm.

“No? Well…” Hornet stared down disappointed at the small pile of food she had collected for them. “I suppose I’d never seen the little ghost eat before.”

The look of hurriedly concealed distress on her face was familiar, and made them feel ashamed of worrying her. They raised their a- ... their other arm from where it had been resting on their nail, and picked up one of the nuts. Delicately, they pretended to nibble on it, then hid it away within the Void inside their shell.

Hornet visibly brightened up.

“Oh! So you can. I was worried for a moment there. I’ll go get some more supplies, make this place more comfortable. Then, once you’re well and rested, we shall find a way up the well for a more permanent residence.”

Hollow nodded, then slumped back into their thoughts as Hornet ran out the door.

Thoughts. It was frightening to think that they had been… well, thinking, this whole time despite trying their best to stay empty. The one expectation from their father had had towards them had been simple. Do not think. Yet the act of thinking had become so natural to them that the idea of not thinking had become a notion in itself.

Perhaps that was why their sibling had succeeded where they had failed. They had not been empty enough, not pure enough. Where the Radiance’s angry cries should have fallen on deaf ears, they had instead listened, endured, resisted.

And then when she noticed, oh, she had been so very angry.

And so very pleased.

They could almost see it now, the glaring orange dreamscape blazing with her ancient fury. The floating pavilions bathed in flames, the endless fall through the burning sky. Her booming voice screaming down at them from above, echoing through the infinitely stretching space. Cursing them for all the things their Father did, and Hallownest did, and the moth tribe did.

Through the burning hellscape, her cold, glaring eyes stared right into them, chilling like ice, bright like the lighthouse down in the Abyss. Her eyes shone such cold, piercing light into them, through them, exposing them and their falseness.

I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.

They lifted their arm to fight back, to chase her away. They conjured glowing daggers at their fingertips and thr- no, they didn’t throw the daggers. They tried again, but they couldn’t throw the daggers, the daggers were still there, at their fingertips, in their fingertips. They were right there, building up soul energy focused into their hand, but they couldn’t let go, and it was there, building up, that searing white bubbling to molten orange and burning and burning right up to their shoulder and the world was burning and they were burning a-

“Hollow?”

They were once again torn away from their thoughts and the pain in their stump by Hornet gently shaking their arm (Their sword arm. Their spell arm was still gone. Still gone yet it was still there hurting, but it was gone).

She was worried now, that was bad. How did she know, when they had never uttered a word, had never been able to utter a word? Their mask was still expressionless… perhaps their body language? They realised that they had been shaking this whole time. Simply distracted from that fact by the persistent, burning throb in their shoulder.

They dipped their head. How shameful. To think that they used to be able to wait through days of longing for Mother and Father’s company, without displaying signs of being anything but empty. To be able to continue through their training under a facade of normalcy, despite their mask being on the verge of cracking. They had been able to endure years of the Radiance’s torment, all her terrible dreams and her screaming voice.

Yet now? It was just a lost arm, an old wound nonetheless, but it was already tearing them apart to the point of showing such a weakened side of them.

“You seem upset,” Hornet’s voice was gentle, a tone that they had not heard in a long time. “Are you alright?”

They began to shake their head, then nodded. Then slumped over.

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Hornet sighed. Then, to their surprise, came to sit down next to them. “Are you lost?”

A sigh.

“I certainly feel lost, Hollow. Hallownest was gone. Now so is the Infection. And the little ghost, I… I can’t find them anywhere.”

Hesitantly, they patted her back.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Me neither.

A moment of silence. Then she glanced up.

“But you’re back.”

Hollow tilted their head.

“And that’s good, isn’t it?

Nothing lasts forever.

“You’re not the Pure Vessel, and I’m not the Princess of Deepnest.”

Not Hallownest.

“You don’t have to contain the Radiance anymore.”

Not the Radiance.

Her voice turned shaky.

“I don’t have to… put our siblings to rest anymore.”

Not… Father.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Nor the mindlessness of Void.

...

But none of that really mattered in the end, did it?

“That’s right. It’s alright. It hurts. All of it hurts, but...”

Hornet smiled, and put a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it did not hurt quite so much anymore.

“We’ll work this out together, won’t we?”

( @hawaiianbabidoll )

( @alaska-ren )

Falling. Flawed. Forsaken. Forgotten. And that sickening, sweet glow of orange.

They deserved this punishment. Every damn second of this madness. It is their sin, it is their lie that caused all this. If they had come to their father and confessed, they would die. But death was a much better fate than this.

The irony. Their end was much like their other siblings’. Falling, eternal, until the inevitable crash.

They only wanted to save their father’s kingdom. Only wanted to make them all proud. Only wanted to be who they were supposed to be.

A failure.

It’s a sea. A constant sea of faces and expectations, with two becoming larger and larger as the years passed.

One pale shining light crowned with horns. One small shell with betrayed, black eyes.

It’s their fault. Gods, it’s their fault. It’s their fault they deserve this it hurts father pleaseithurtsIdon’twantthishelphelpfaultmyfaultmYFAULTIT��SMYFAULTFATHERIT’SMINEF ATHERFATHER F A T H E R

End Me

Fathe-

The Hollow Knight shot forward and reached for their nail, only finding a warm hand holding their wrist. Flowing, gentle red filled their vision and the warm hand placed theirs back on their lap.

“Sibling,” Hornet called out again, softer this time. “You’ve been dreaming.”

Hollow lowered their head, the void inside them pulsing and making their shell cold and trembling. Hornet hesitated, and with Hollow’s nod, sat beside them. Hollow stayed still, and would have placed a calm air if they could ever do it again at all. They had no more need to hide, so why...

“Sibling!”

“Troubled mind?” Hollow huffed and looked away when Hornet chuckled. “Care to let me in?”

My mind is a dark place, sister. I do not want you to be here.

Hornet’s eyes softened before crossing her legs and hugging her knees close. “Silent as ever, sibling.” The wind crawling through the dark caverns served as her only response.

“Do you regret this? All of this?” Hollow twisted their head and their wide eyes met tired ones. Their chest squeezed in anguish, sorrow, and grief. They were not the only casualty in this war between gods. They copied Hornet’s pose, and placed their head on their only arm.

... There are many things I wish I had done, but if I were given the choice to sacrifice myself once more for our future, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it was their shared wyrm parentage, or their bond as siblings, or just pure intuition, but Hornet more than felt Hollow’s unspoken reply. “Oh, no,” she chuckled and shook her head, “No, no, no, I won’t let you do it again.” Hornet turned her body and fully faced the sibling she grew up with for so many years. “You will not sacrifice yourself again. Not to me. Not to any of us. Not to yourself.”

Hornet stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Hollow’s lowered head. Hollow didn’t have the energy to look at her anymore, to even lift their hand anymore. Both Hornet and they were born for a purpose. With that purpose stripped away, what are they?

“We were both children, sibling,” Hornet’s words carved through the silence, and struck right into Hollow’s soul. “Children are not meant to carry something as heavy as... this.”

“It is much easier to disappear, isn’t it?” Hollow’s eyes rose to look at Hornet’s cloak, too tired to look her in the eyes. They nodded, it is easier. If they disappeared, they wouldn’t think, wouldn’t feel. They’d be so much closer to being ‘pure’.

“You know, when you were sealed in the egg, when you disappeared... When... my mother disappeared,” Hollow swallowed a lump in their throat when a tiny crack shattered Hornet’s voice. She stopped her words and looked away. Hollow watched as she swiped at her eyes and took in deep breaths.

“I have watched this kingdom grow, fall, and die. I stayed when everyone left. I could have chosen to disappear as well, it would be so easy.”

“But that is not what it means to live.” Hornet moved and placed herself in front of Hollow, her red cloak billowing around her.

“Hollow, I want you to live.”

I do not know how.

Hollow’s silence was disturbed by the rustling of fabric. They watched as Hornet dusted herself off and in moments looked as the Princess Protector of Hallownest she always was.

“Then, do you think you can walk with me, sibling?”

The tilt of her head and bright determined eyes took hold of something in Hollow’s chest. Something warm.

I think... I can walk with you, sister.

Hornet stood and offered her hand, “Together?”

Together.

( @snakeyarts )

( @nonbinary-ghost )

Hornet let out an almost imperceptible sigh as they reached the hot springs, the damp air warm against her shell. The journey from the Black Egg Temple to the Crossroad’s Hot Springs was not a long one, but it had taken her more than a day to reach it given her… charge.

Hornet glanced back at her sibling, something twisting in her shell at the sight of their battered form leaning heavily on their longnail by their one remaining arm. Their whole body shook as they panted for breath, bits of void leaking from the deep wounds in their side and the crack down their mask despite the bandages of webbing Hornet had applied. They way they slumped weakly, like an old rag doll with the stuffing worked out of its joints, made Hornet’s heart ache. They looked scant inches from death.

Hornet did her best to mask her worry, trying to exude an air of calm confidence as she stood upright, ever ready to dart forward to catch them if they stumbled. She urged them forward with a hand wave, hesitant to touch them for fear of causing them more harm. Sometimes, when hurt so gravely, it was best for one to move for oneself if possible, since one knew what ways would hurt.

The tension in Hornet’s shoulders eased only once she helped lower the once Hollow Knight into the warm waters of the hot spring, offering her hand for support as they unsteadily waded into the water. She watched in wonder as they visibly relaxed into the warmth, the flow of void leaking from their injuries slowing as white flickers of light began to float around them. Hornet was relieved to see that the graveness of their injuries did not render them completely immune to the regenerative properties of the hot springs and she finally allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe…maybe they would be alright.

She glanced down at the hard, cloak-wrapped bundle clutched under her arm. Carefully, as if afraid she’d break it further, Hornet unwrapped the shattered mask from the tattered grey cloak she’d swaddled it in. That strange, twisting feeling again clawed at her chest at the mask cracked perfectly in half cradled in her hands.

Ghost…

When she had swooped into the Black Egg Temple to aid them against their sibling, Hornet had possessed little hope for any of them to survive. At best, she’d hoped to defeat the Radiance, to vanquish the infection once and for all. At worst, she knew a slow, painful fall to the void or infection would be their only end as the Radiance’s calamity continued to blaze through what little remained of Hollownest. To be perfectly honest, she had thought hardly anything at all. She only knew there was an opening for her aid, a way to give Ghost the chance they needed to enter the Hollow Knight’s dream as they had with her mother. Survival had been, frankly, the last thing on her mind.

Yet, when she had awakened once more in that temple, soft white light seeping in through the shattered ceiling to replace the fading void and haze of infection, that traitorous emotion had crept into her shell. The veins of orange infection lacing the walls of the temple withered and died, fading to black before crumbling away. That almost painful stab of hope only grew sharper when she discovered her sibling, the Hollow Knight, sprawled across the cracked ground, void dripping from their missing arm and the deep pits in their shell, but somehow, miraculously, still alive.

Ghost, however, had not been so fortunate, and the nail of remorse that had lanced through her at the sight of their shattered mask had nearly brought Hornet to her knees. It wasn’t fair. The three of them had done it. They had won. They had beat the Radiance and her infection. Together. So why, then, had she and the Hollow Knight survived, but Ghost had not?

Knowing it was futile but still harboring that foolish flicker of hope, Hornet lowered Ghost’s broken mask into a shallow edge of the spring. Maybe, if their mask was whole, Ghost could come back, as the Hollow Knight had.

The white shards stayed sharp and jagged in the murky waters, as inert and still as stone.

Hornet’s shoulders slumped and that childish hope sputtered and died in her chest.

The quiet slosh of moving water brought Hornet’s attention up to the Hollow Knight, surprised to find them moving about already as they carefully, hesitantly, shifted toward her. She blinked at the way the glowing light of the hot spring coiled around them, and for the briefest of heartbeats she imagined that light held a more yellow tinge, splaying out behind them in the Radiances starburst. She could almost imagine their eyes again alight… but no. No, the light was white and wispy, nothing more than steam, and the Hollow Knight’s one uncovered eye was a steady, empty black. The Radiance was gone. Hornet’s sibling was cured.

For a moment, Hornet put aside her disappointment over Ghost’s mask and allowed herself to revel in the relief and joy that zinged through her at the sight of the sibling she had long assumed lost to her alive, if not completely well. She searched their void-black eye for any flicker of light, as the mental image of their glowing-orange eyes seeping tears of infection refused to fade. She cringed as she recalled the way they had turned their nail on themself in a desperate attempt to cut that infection away, to prevent their body from being puppeted into hurting Ghost. She reached out a hand, not quite touching their white mask still half covered in bandages. She was not sure if her touch would be welcome, or if it would only cause her injured sibling greater distress.

“Hollow –“ she choked, surprised at the tightness in her throat. She swallowed. What was she going to say? ‘I’m glad you’re alive’? ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened’? Somehow, everything that came to mind felt inadequate and she fell back on the security of practicality. “Are you alright? Do you still hurt?”

Her sibling stared a moment, as if processing her words. Slowly, they lifted their sodden cloak to glance down at the bandages wrapped around them. Their right arm was still missing, long since eaten away by the infection and well beyond the hot spring’s ability to heal, but the dark void no longer bled from under the bandages. Hornet reached forward, intending to unwrap the webbing to take a closer look, to be certain they were no longer hurt, but the way their sibling went absolutely motionless at the movement froze her in place. She abruptly recalled that they were completely unaccustomed to such care, even prior to becoming the Hollow Knight, and the only sensation they had experienced for all this time since they was pain. Did they fear her touch, worried it would bring harm?

“I promise, I will not hurt you,” she assured them gently. “I wish only to remove the bandages. May I?”

Stare.

Then, ever so slightly, the barest nod of their mask.

Hornet carefully, oh so carefully, removed the bandages to reveal the scarred shell underneath. No longer open, bleeding wounds, the Hollow Knight’s injuries were little more than slightly duller grey scars along the perfect black of their carapace. However, when she unwrapped the bandage over the Hollow Knight’s eye, Hornet had to stifle a flicker of sorrow to find their mask still cracked. She gently cupped their cheek, staring into their eyes as a confusing swirl of emotions eddied through her. The sharp ache of hope in her chest was only sharpened by the dark coil of fear twisting and untwisting in her belly – the fear of doing too little, too late; of potentially discovering that her sibling was actually hollow after a fashion; the fear of them not. There was an uncomfortable itch of confusion somewhere in there too, at their shared survival, and a warm flicker of gratitude tainted with sorrow that they had, even if at Ghost’s expense, though it pained her to admit as much. But most of all was shame, and a steady, burning anger that pulsed in the pit of her belly at what had been done to her sibling, at what trials they had endured.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. For what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say. How did one apologize for anything that had happened to her sibling? She knew none of what happened to them had been her fault – she had been far too young, too small, to prevent their binding. But she still felt the deepest shame at her continued inability – nay her refusal - to brake those bindings herself, at the role she played in even preserving them. A cold, fracturing pain broke her heart as she fully comprehended just how much they had suffered in all the time that had passed. How could one ever adequately apologize for that?

She could feel the Hollow Knight begin to shake slightly under her touch, their shoulders trembling as their breathing became labored. For an instant, Hornet feared something was wrong, that she’d hurt them somehow, that they might vanish in a cloud of void just as Ghost had.

But when dark tears of void began to spill from their eyes, and their quick breaths quickly dissolved into silent sobs, she realized they were probably only just beginning to process what had happened to them. She went to withdraw her hand, intending to give them space, but their own hand quickly covered hers and they leaned into her touch. Surprise pulsed through her at the motion, at the clear assertion of want without her prompting. An instinct Hornet had long thought dead had the spiderling wading into the water with her sibling and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. They were so much bigger than she that she had to stand to give them a hug, even as they remained seated. But the way they clung to her as shuddering sobs raked through them made them feel so small and fragile in her arms, and she blinked away tears of her own. She gently stroked their back as they cried, holding them tight as if her arms alone could keep them from falling apart. She found herself murmuring that it was okay, that they could cry now, they could let themself feel. The Radiance was destroyed, her infection gone. They had done it - they had kept their oath despite it all. She promised them they were safe. They were free.

For how long they remained like that, Hornet could only guess. Her back and arms had long since begun to ache at holding her much larger sibling aloft, but she steadfastly refused to be the first to draw away. Her sibling needed her, and this time wyrm damn it she was going to be here.

After a time, the Hollow Knight’s breathing slowed, and their shaking lessened. She let them draw away at the slightest tug. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel trapped. Their white mask was stained with dark streaks and she retrieved one of the bandages to wipe it clean. Her sibling pressed their mask into her hand as she worked and she got the sense that they were trying to express a form of gratitude. Relief and joy had begun to overwhelm all the other emotions that still twisted in Hornet’s chest – not quite replacing them but at least quelling them. Her sibling was alive, and this time they were free. It felt a wonder that such a thing could be possible, and some small part of Hornet swelled with pride at the knowledge that she had helped make this happen, even if mostly unintentionally. She vowed that this time, she would make certain they got to live fully and freely.

Her thumb brushed the jagged edge of the crack in their mask and Hornet’s mind began to search for ways to make things better for her sibling, needing to prove to them through actions that they truly were safe now. That she cared.

“I wonder if the Mask Maker could repair this,” she mused, her thoughts drifting to the strange recluse who lived above her home in Deepnest. She knew he had been the one too craft the Hollow Knight’s mask as they grew up, since the vessels were incapable of molting like an average bug. If he was still alive, maybe the Mask Maker could help heal her sibling.

A thought occurred to her with a cold prickling across her shell and Hornet turned to Ghost’s mask still sitting broken in the water.

Perhaps…

Hollow let Hornet pull her hand away and she carefully plucked those white shards from the water, re-wrapping them in Ghost’s old cloak. Her motions were quick with a new purpose and the Hollow Knight stared at her, their confusion clear in the tilt of their head.

“I have an idea,” she admitted, tucking the bundle in a silk bag under her cloak. A fragile hope had begun to rekindle in her chest. “There might be a way to get Ghost back.”

She paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

( https://twitter.com/RannHKnight )