#archer brown x fem!reader

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Threads Of Freedom 15th Hunger Games AU Archer Brown x Fem!Reader: Summary

A/n: Hey everyone! This will be my first fanfic posted here on Tumblr, and I am really excited to share both this idea and the story with all of you. I've been conjuring up this idea for a while now and thought it would be a great story to put up on this platform. I hope you enjoy what is to come for this story. I'll be updating as often as I can, and I would love to hear your thoughts along the way! As the story unfolds, I'd be thrilled to get some input from on a major question – should the reader end up with Archer or Coriolanus? Let me know what you think, and stay tuned for Chapter 1! 😊 Warnings: (As this story is still in the works warnings may change but this is just for reference) Violence, control, oppression, obsession, death, manipulation, angst, peacekeeper brutality, stalking, political corruption, abuse of power, public execution, dark romance, and she/her pronouns. Summary: Coriolanus Snow has now been elected as the new president of Panem at the age of 23, and his reign of authority is quickly making its presence felt across the districts, especially with the 15th Hunger Games looming ever closer. With fear gripping the hearts of many in the districts, Coriolanus's primary focus is on maintaining control, and power while quelling any sense of a possible rebellion. However, in the shadows of District 12, a spirited girl dreams of breaking free from the oppressive system that surrounds her and going where the wind takes her. Fueled by a longing for freedom, she yearns to escape with her best friend, Archer Brown, whom she has known since childhood.

But Archer hesitates, torn between his loyalty to his family and the fear of being caught by the ever-watchful peacekeepers. As the reaping unfolds, Coriolanus finds himself captivated by a particular girl in the background, drawn to something about her that gives a resemblance to his former songbird, Lucy Gray, igniting a desire to claim her for himself and make sure the same mistake is not made again. Unbeknownst to her, Coriolanus now has his eyes on her through his peacekeepers in 12, complicating her quest for freedom when each line she tries to cross is broken by more and more rules filling the districts. It comes down to whether she will succeed in convincing Archer to flee with her into the unknown in time, or will the tightening grip of the Capitol crush her dreams of freedom?

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin’ me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[holdmytesseract]

Safe Haven

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl threatens to lose his grip and gets swallowed by the trauma he experienced in the Sanctuary, you try your best to catch him and being his safe haven he desperately needs.

Warnings: quite some angst, fluff, insecurity? mentions of scars, injuries and torture, nudity, FEELS, FEELS, FEELS

Set in Season 7!

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This story is based on an idea from @erebus-et-eigengrau . I hope you like how this turned out, lovely friend! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Daryl?" You spoke his name in a quiet voice as you took the archer's hand slowly and carefully in yours. His fingers twitched, but didn't pull away from your gentle hold. "Do you trust me?" Your voice was just above a whisper; so afraid to scare him off or make him feel even more comfortable than he probably already felt.

Tainted, yet still incredibly beautiful blue eyes met yours, as Daryl lifted his gaze; peeking through long strands of sweaty, greasy chestnut brown hair which hung in his face. You patiently waited for an answer while your thumb had absent-mindedly started to caress the rough skin on the back of his hand - an attempt to provide him some comfort and reassurance.

The archer started to nod; merely noticeable, but he did. "'M trustin' ya," he added quietly; voice even more raspy than usually. Hearing those words leaving his lips caused your heart to skip a beat. Sure, you and Daryl had been a thing for quite a few months now and deep down you knew that he had been always trusting you. Unless he'd have never opened his heart for you. But nevertheless was it wonderful to hear.

You nodded, "Okay." gently squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. "Come with me?" Daryl nodded once more; wordlessly and let you guide him wherever it was you wanted to take him.

Your destination was the small trailer you - and now Daryl, shared in Hilltop. Crickets and some distant chatter from the other residents was all that could be heard alongside yours and the archer's steps through the grass.

You led Daryl inside your home and closed the door behind the both of you - never letting go of his hand. Not even for a second. Cautiously stepping closer, you lifted your free hand to cup his cheek; feeling the greyish hairs of his beard tickle your palm. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut at your touch; a soft gasp leaving his lips.

Your eyes widened. "Fuck..." You cursed under your breath; knowing that you just did what you swore you wouldn't do. Unintentional or not. "Daryl, no, I-" You inhaled a shaky breath; afraid to hurt him. "I put that wrong. I don't ask you to tell me what... What happened there. I would never force you to do so. Never. It's entirely up to you. Your decision." You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. "A-All I wanted to say is... We need to give you a shower and fresh clothes... Your wounds... They... I don't want them to get infected. L-Let me take care of you, please?" Your gaze never left Daryl's; always checking in on him - on how he felt.

"My love... I won't ever force you to this..." you started; gently tracing the last remains of a bruise underneath the archer's eye. "Never, b-but-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt Daryl flinch slightly; a literal storm of emotions starting to rage inside his eyes - and you immediately realised that you had chosen the wrong words.

Daryl had escaped Negan and the Sanctuary not even a day ago and whatever they had done to him... Whatever he had experienced... You knew it was something traumatic. Something horrible. He hadn't told you. Not even a word - and you would never force him to do so. If he ever wanted to talk, you were going to welcome him with open arms and a sympathetic ear. You were his partner after all. You'd wait until he was ready to open up to you - whenever it might be. One day, one week, one month, one year - or hence, even never. All you cared about was his well-being and safety.

The archer swallowed at your words; seemingly giving your words a thought, before he bobbed his head in a small nod. "Y-Yeah, a'right," he whispered and turned his head only a few inches; just enough that he was able to press a feather-light kiss against your palm.

Another soft smile darted over your face and you retreated your hand from his cheek. Then you gave the hand which was still neatly tucked in yours a small tug; urging him on to follow you again - what he did.

The bathroom wasn't really spacious. Barely big enough to fit two people inside, but you had less and definitely worse. You wouldn't complain. Never. This was the end of the world after all. You'd take what you get and make it work.

Once again you closed the door behind the two of you, before returning to face the man you loved. "You trust me?" You repeated your question from earlier, now that he knew what you were up to - just to make sure. Your thumb worked gentle circles in the skin on the back of his hand.

It wasn't like you had never seen him shirtless or well, naked before, no. You did. That wasn't the point. But this right now... This was different. So much more... intimate. Perhaps the most intimate moment in your relationship so far, since you and the archer had yet to take the step of being physically joined. You, neither Daryl didn't want to just rush into things. You both agreed to take your time - which definitely proved to be the right decision, because you and the archer weren't exactly experts in romantic relationships.

Like before was Daryl's answer a clear 'Yes'. Giving his hand a last squeeze, you let go - much to the archer's dismay. His hand twitched - unbeknownst to you, as he held back the urge to chase after your hand - your reassuring touch, which kept him grounded.

Instead were hovering your hands now above his shoulders; fingertips grazing the plaid shirt he wore over the white t-shirt. "M-May I?" You asked hesitatingly; again afraid to make him feel uncomfortable, despite his promise of trust.

Nevertheless did it happen from time to time, that one would walk in on the other after a shower or while getting dressed to which you and Daryl got used to and normally were comfortable with. It had taken him quite a while longer than you, though, given the fact of how insecure he was. Not exactly about his body itself, but the scars which were covering it - a steady reminder of his abusive father and the traumatic past he had experienced. You felt absolutely honoured; heart aching with love, as he started to feel comfortable enough around you to be shirtless and even naked.

A higher declaration of love didn't exist. Not when your name was Daryl Dixon.

You squatted down and made quick work to untie the laces of his shoes. "Can you take off your shoes for me, love?"

"Y-Yeah," Daryl's deep voice managed to snap you out of your thoughts; giving you permission to help him. You smiled gently and shrugged the plaid shirt over his shoulders, down his arms; throwing it carelessly aside on the floor. Next was the sweaty, stained t-shirt he wore.

"Can you...?" You asked; gently tapping his elbows. "O-Or does it hurt?" Wordlessly, Daryl lifted his arms and let you pull the dirty t-shirt slowly and carefully over his head; leaving him shirtless - and the sight you were greeted with caused a gasp to leave your lips. His upper body was littered with bruises and cuts. Your heart ached seeing all his injuries; violently inflicted to the man you loved. You swallowed hard, "Daryl..." quietly calling out his name; voice filled with hurt. The archer lowered his head. "'S okay... H-Had worse," he muttered and definitely tried to downplay the extent of his pain - physically and probably even mentally.

You instantly shook your head. "N-No, it... It's not. They hurt you..." Tears gathered in your eyes, as your fingertips hovered over a particularly dark bruise on his rips. You didn't receive an answer. Daryl's eyes were still directed at the ground, but you could see that he was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You couldn't quite tell what was going on in that pretty head of his. Was it insecurity? Shame? Guilt? Fear? All of it? Whatever it was that had captured the archer's mind, you knew it wasn't good and therefore immediately tried to pull him out of this again.

Your hand found his again; fingers intertwining as you guided him towards the trailer's shower. You slid the creme-white curtain aside and opened the tap; hand underneath the water jet to feel the temperature. Once the water was pleasantly warm, you turned to face Daryl. "Water is ready. I, uh, I'm going to give you some space now, okay? Call me whenever you need me, yeah? I'll be just outside the door." You squeezed his hand and gave him another soft smile, before letting go and stepping aside.

Your tender voice urging to Daryl's ears seemed to do the trick. Slowly, he lifted his gaze; even more troubled blue eyes meeting yours, as he started to kick off his shoes, together with the socks.

Now there was only his jeans and underwear left. Hesitatingly, you reached for the button and zipper of his pants. Locking eyes with the archer once more, you silently asked for his permission again. When there was no objection, you continued and helped him step out of his jeans first and lastly out of the grey, absolutely uncomfortable looking briefs. A few small grunts left his lips; clearly indicating that his body was definitely aching and hurting - which gave your heart another jolt. And Daryl? Daryl didn't even do as much as flinch. His gaze was still directed on the floor; his mind most likely returning to wander down that dark path like minutes before.

You cursed yourself internally.

Space. The word echoed through Daryl's head like the ring of a gunshot. Well, it certainly felt like a bullet had pierced his heart to leave him aching and bleeding. Space... It was the last thing he wanted from you. Watching you walk away only caused to double the pain. He needed you as close as possible. You had been already too far away from him for the last weeks. He couldn't bear to lose you again - even if it was just for a few minutes.

"N-No, please... Stay. D-Dun'- Dun' wantcha to go," he whispered; voice strained and raspy. It caused you to stop dead in your tracks. Stay? He wanted you to stay? Your heart skipped yet another beat. You swiftly turned to face him once again. The expression on Daryl's face broke you. He looked so... lost. Desperate. Afraid. And once again, you immediately noticed that you had just committed another mistake.

How could you leave him alone after all he's been through; thinking he needed the space, when it was clearly written all over his face that he needed everything but space?

"Of course, I'll stay. If that's what you want..." You spoke in a compassionate voice; the gears in your brain turning.

"Do you feel comfortable enough for me to join you? T-That okay for you, o-or...?" You asked Daryl cautiously; not wanting to take this too far. But to your slight surprise nodded the man opposite you immediately. "Please..." That one word was enough.

You made quick work to shed your own clothes; leaving you entirely bare as well. Daryl didn't make a sound. Except for shy eyes travelling your now exposed body - and his cheeks flushed. You took his hand in yours again; unbeknownst anchoring him to you - to the here and now and not letting him wander off to the Sanctuary again.

With a soft smile, you gently tucked at the archer's hand; pulling him into the shower and underneath the pleasantly warm water jet after you.

He was visibly comfortable - and that was all that mattered.

The water was quick to get the both of you soaking wet; Daryl's chestnut brown bangs sticking to his face. You brought your hands up and gently peeled the loose strands away and out of his face; not missing the opportunity to caress his beardy cheeks. The archer just stared at you in silence and didn't even move an inch. He relied completely on you, as if he had lost the control over his own body. His heart in the palm of your hands.

"C'mere, sweets," your voice grabbed his attention - and the lack of warm water cascading down his beaten and bruised body. He blinked and took a step closer to you. "I'm going to wash your hair now, is that okay?" Daryl gave a confirming nod and within seconds had you squirted some shampoo on your hands and buried them in his curls; massaging gently. The man's eyes slipped shut with a cute grunt and groan of relaxation and satisfaction. You couldn't help but smile.

While you washed the archer's hair, he was fighting the urge to bury his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hands twitching to cup your hips - but he didn't dare to do so; too afraid to cross a line. He didn't want to do something wrong and push you away. It was a nightmare he wasn't strong enough to fight right now. Never - if he was being honest.

Once you had rinsed the brown mop of hair on his head, you moved on to his body - but not without asking for his consent again. You were even more hesitant and cautious in that regard, since touching his head and touching his whole body were two very different things...

"Dar... Will you allow me to..." You questioned him almost nervously; trailing off and kinda awkwardly gesturing between the bottle of shower gel and him. "I-I don't have to. Y-You can-" "I trust ya." And once again were - this time three - words enough from the man in front of you to jump into action; feeling a rush of love flooding your veins. He was trusting you enough to let you touch his body. Even in the vulnerable state he was currently in. It meant the world to you and you were determined to show him. You gave him yet another sweet smile and went to work; always making sure to capture his eyes now and then to make sure he was still okay with what your hands were doing.

Rinsing off the remaining soap, you got the first real close look of the tattoo on his shoulder blade and his scars, of course. You felt a pang of compassion and sorrow deep in your heart. Life had certainly left its marks on him. That much was clear. He didn't deserve this... All the pain. All the hurt. All the losses he had to endure. It wasn't fair.

You started with his soaping his upper body; feeling the bumps of his scars underneath your palm - what you didn't mind at all, of course. You had told him a hundred of times by now that he was beautiful to you no matter what.

Your touch was soft and delicate; making sure to not hurt him and being cautious about his cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, you couldn't prevent the shower gel from getting into the deeper cuts, which caused Daryl to hiss and you to repeatedly mutter the words 'I'm so sorry.'. Then you moved on to his legs and gave them a gentle scrub as well, before you went to rinse the soap off of his body again; starting with the front and lightly tapping his shoulder to signal him to turn around for you - what the archer did. Wordlessly - but words weren't needed anyway. Not between the both of you.

Returning the shower head back into its holder, you felt the overwhelming urge to give him all the love he deserved and slowly snuck your arms around his waist; pressing your smaller body against his back. Daryl flinched slightly at the sudden contact, but his muscles relaxed instantly again; knowing it was you and not just anybody. And yet he couldn't stop the gasp to leave his mouth when your lips started to trail a path of kisses over ever single scar and bruise; mapping out his broad back.

Until now.

Daryl's eyes slipped shut; a feel of love and comfort rushing through his veins - so much, it was overwhelming. It was like the connection he shared with you had reached a new kind of depth - in the most positive way. He hadn't felt this loved and accepted in years, decades even. Not before you stumbled into his life.

Daryl had felt like falling deeper and deeper; a dark hole sucking him in. It was like his body was present, but his mind still stuck in the hellhole Negan had caged him in.

Emotions exploded within Daryl; his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage with all the love it was feeling. He couldn't help himself but to turn in your embrace and press his forehead against the crook of your neck; not hesitating this time.

Now all he could feel and see was you. Even when he closed his eyes.

Sure, the archer's mind would still need some more time to heal, but you had caught him; kept him from losing his grip.

His sudden movement caught you by surprise at first, but then you just smiled and buried your hands in his wet curls, while Daryl's calloused, gentle hands skimmed over your bare back, sides and hips. But not in a sexual way. All the archer wanted was to feel you; needing to convince his brain that you were truly real - and his. Yes, it was the most intimate moment you and Daryl shared - and it was perfect.

Sure, sex was great, but that... That was a whole other level of intimacy. It was so much more.

You were so lost in the moment, that you didn't notice how your archer's tears mixed with the warm water still cascading down over your intertwined bodies, as he almost frantically held onto you.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007

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[logansbaby]

CLOSER | DARYL DIXON

SYNOPSIS ❥ On the road, you can’t seem to focus on anything other than wanting Daryl to fuck you senseless. Because he’s such a good boyfriend, you get what you want.

Pairing ❥ Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Content warnings ❥ 18+ content (MDNI), porn without plot, creampie, unprotected p in v, oral (daryl receiving!), dirty talk, car sex, basically reader being feral (like we all are)

Word Count ❥ 2.3k

A/N ❥ hi my loves!! long time no see, i know </3 been busy with stuff irl but i wanted to get this piece out for you all as a thank you for hitting 100 followers! it means the world to me <3 hope y’all enjoy this, im squeezing my legs as we speak bc whew. and also, the picture is purely there to generate imagery, there are no descriptions of the reader! xoxo, sammy

— ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

“You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

…

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal”

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

— ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“What?”

His gruff voice spooked you from your lustful haze, where you’d been glancing over at Daryl every couple seconds. You shook your head in a fruitless attempt to clear your sinful thoughts, before meeting his eyes.

“Hmm?” You spoke softly, it was all you could do in your state. Oh, how you wanted him to pull over and let you have your way with him.

“Been starin’ at me since we got in the car. Do I got somethin’ on my face or what?” Daryl sounded annoyed, but you knew him better to just be deeply confused by your actions. You couldn’t exactly blame him, it’d been over twenty minutes and you’d barely spoken since you both had left for a supply run.

But you couldn’t help it. With your panties soaked, slit slippery and clit throbbing in neglect, you were desperately trying to act normal.

Clearly, you’d failed.

It was Daryl’s fault; you’d been fine until you saw him leant against a porch pillar, lighting up a cigarette. You couldn’t explain it because you’d seen him smoke before, but something about the way he looked then had your thighs squeezing, breath catching.

He was busy talking to Rick, blowing smoke as he spoke intently. His arms were bulging, muscles on full display as they moved to further prove his words. The vest did nothing to offer cover and with his pretty lips wrapped around the cigarette, you felt faint. His brown locks were shaggy, covering his eyes in a way that made you wanna tug them as you kissed.

Simply put, you’d wanted him to ruin you.

“No, baby. Jus’ look pretty today is all.” You sighed, now staring at him shamelessly as you leant against the car door to have him in your full view.

“Pretty?!” Daryl scoffed, affronted at the very suggestion. Even so, his ears heated up and his cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink. “Can’ say I've heard that one before.”

“You are,” You promised, voice filled to the brim with adoration for him because yeah, your archer was fuckin’ pretty and deserved to be told. “Look super handsome today.”

“Shut up.” His gruff voice sounded, rolling his eyes at you as you’d made him flush again.

“I’m serious! Got me all flustered, ever since this mornin’!” You huffed, voice whiny and light, throwing your head back against the window for relief on your heated skin.

With your admission, he averted his gaze from the road to you, silently groaning at your blown out pupils, the pink flush dancing across your cheeks and down your chest.

Jesus, you were serious. How the fuck was he supposed to continue on driving when he had his girl next to him, needy for him?

“Fuck.” He spoke, noting that you had now taken your seatbelt off and were shuffling closer to him. “What’re you doin?”

You’d opted to take an old pickup truck and there wasn’t any middle console, just a continuation of the bench. For what you had in mind, you silently thanked whoever came up with that design.

“Pull over, Daryl.” With a breathy voice, you pressed a wet kiss onto his neck. Hearing a hitch in his breath, you licked up his neck until you reached his scruffy cheek, moaning as you did so. “Please, need you so bad.”

The car jerked suddenly as you palmed his strong thigh, teeth nibbling on his earlobe. He felt himself harden in his pants at the feel of your dainty hands touching him, of your plushy lips soothing the sting your teeth had left behind.

“Can’t, sunshine. It’s not safe to be sittin’ in the road bein’ distracted.” He spoke with regret, especially as your hand palmed his dick over the material. He wanted you safe though, and he wasn’t lying when he thought it was dangerous to pull over in the middle of nowhere. “Just wait til we get— fuck.”

His words muddled into a string of curses, car wobbling again as you’d released him before pulling his cock from his pants, zipper undone.

“Wanna suck you off.”

And shit, with the way you were looking at him, with the way you wet your lips as you looked at his dick, he wanted to stuff your mouth full.

“Dammit, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.” You bent down, level with his crotch as you gawked at his exposed dick, precum now bubbling at the tip.

You licked your lips at the sight of white, pearly beads and before he could process it, his engorged tip was in the warm confines of your mouth, suckling soft and slow.

“Cant ever behave, can you? Jesus, baby.” He looked down at you, grunting as your eyes met his just as you swirled your tongue over him, dipping into his drippy slit. You hummed at the salty flavor of him, giving a few more sucks to his tip, before releasing it with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva connecting your puffy lips to him.

You’d only stopped because you noticed he’d let off the gas, the car barely even moving down the deserted street.

“Drive.” You demanded, gripping his base and jerking at a teasingly slow pace, eyes piercing his pretty blue ones. You leaned in to his face, licking his bottom lip before sucking the soft skin into your mouth. Daryl was so unbelievably turned on from your behavior that your voice barely registered. You released his lip, planting a wet kiss onto him before looking at him again. “Drive the car, or I’m stopping. It’s not safe to stop, remember?”

And from the snarl that appeared on his spit-slick mouth, you knew you’d pay for saying that.

“Nah, I can’t focus when your mouth is o—“

“Drive.”

Your command surged him into action, partially because your bratty attitude was making him throb and partially because he needed his dick down your throat, now.

The engine roared as he pressed down on the gas. Then, he gripped your hair tightly, scalp tingling as he made you look at him.

“Suck.” When you made no move, because you’d been too fucking entranced by how hot Daryl was, especially as he yanked your hair roughly, he grunted. “Now, your pissin’ me off with your little fuckin’ angel eyes.”

His words, along with his grip on your hair, had you parting your lips and sucking him down.

The car was filled with the filthy noises your mouth made as you switched between licking him from base to tip and then wrapping swollen lips around him. His taste was overwhelming your senses and your cunt ached to be filled. The rumble of the car kept jiggling your body and you gagged around him as you slid lower onto him.

Tears pooled your lash line but instead of letting up, you bobbed your head up and down to hear more of his groans. The only time Daryl was truly vocal was when you sucked him off and shit, if it didn’t make you wet.

You snuck a hand around to pet your pussy, the throb becoming too much to ignore, when Daryl suddenly pulled you off him. And the sight of you had him bucking into the air; a mix of spit and his precum coated your lips, your eyes wet from crying on his cock, hair messy around your face.

You looked so pretty like this, all cock-drunk.

“Don’t get to touch yourself, not with your fuckin’ attitude.” His tone was so gravely, so assertive that instead of being annoyed, you whimpered. “Now, get your pants off and c’mere.”

It was only then you’d noticed that he’d stopped the car, trees surrounded the vehicle as nothing was in sight for miles.

Your demanding act was far gone; you needed Daryl inside you.

Without another thought, you clambered from your kneeling spot and wiggled out of your pants as best as you could, though your movements were jittery as Daryl watched you the entire time, eyes nearly black with need.

Finally free, you swung yourself onto his lap and moaned loudly; his cock, hard and still coated in your spit, rubbed at your thinly covered cunt as you sat atop him. The buckle of his pants was cold and you jolted as its coolness hit your puffy clit.

“Fuck, Daryl.” You gripped his long strands, yanking as you humped him. The sight of you all whiny and pathetic for him made him grunt lowly before catching your parted lips in a kiss. “Mmph.”

Immediately, the kiss was obscene. Daryl rubbed his tongue with yours, swallowing your whines as the muscles danced with one another. Spit was pooling at the corner of your mouth and as he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both.

Breathing heavily, Daryl reached between you both and pulled your underwear to the side, swearing as he did so.

“So fuckin’ wet, honey. All this for me?” His eyes flickered across your face as you stared back, lust drenching your features as you huffed.

“All for you,” you gasped, lips bumping his and fingers pulling his hair. His fingers found your entrance, marveling at how fucking soaked you were. Daryl leaned into you, capturing your mouth with his as you whimpered into him as he shoved two fingers in at once.

For a bit, thats all it was and it was a fucking sight. You, clinging to Daryl as you greedily kissed him, moans spilling from you as his fingers filled you. Him, fucking you with one hand whilst the other gripped your ass harshly, pulling the flesh as he rocked you against his fingers inside you.

You would’ve come like that, if he hadn’t then removed them just as your orgasm tickled your gut.

“What the fu—“ you were cut off by Daryl as he shoved his fingers, the ones that were just inside you and therefore covered in slick, inside your parted mouth.

“Shh, thats it.” He marveled as you sucked and cleaned his fingers like the good girl he knew you were.

Pulling them from your lips, he dragged the wetness across your cheek before crashing his lips to yours. You both made noises because the musky and sweetness of you lingered on your tongue. With your taste coating his tastebuds, he snapped.

Daryl parted from you before one hand gripped you and the other grabbed his cock, moving until you were sinking down onto him.

Your cries mingled with his groans; your tight, wet heat sucked him down and finally, he was inside you and filling you up, just like you’d wanted.

“Fuck, Daryl.” You whined, hips swiveling to get used to his size. You were torn between the relief of being filled to the brim and the discomfort because of how big he was.

“This what you wanted, huh? Just so fuckin’ needy you had to stop us in the fuckin’ road?” He grunted, a calloused hand coming to grip your throat, the tightness steadying you. “My filthy girl.”

Then, he thrusted up into you and the sound you made was like a symphony of music to his ears. Spurred on, he kept thrusting into your pussy, groaning at the wet, slippery sounds filling the car. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure and the feel of him that you just clung to him, rolling your hips and humping your clit against him as you took each thrust he gave you.

Though, one particular move was so fucking deep it had you mewl, fingernails digging into the soft skin of Daryl’s neck.

“Daryl,” you gasped, euphoria pumping through every crevice of your body. The buckle of his belt was now slick as your clit continued to hump. “So big— uh, uh— so big.”

His hand gripped your throat firmly, fastening his pace as helped you move with him by lifting your ass in tandem with his hips.

You were a mess; blubbering nonsense to him as your cunt repeatedly clenched down on him as you grew closer to your peak. Daryl was so high on you, your pretty sounds, and suddenly, he needed to see more of your skin.

He removed his grip from your ass to yank your shirt up and he let out a grunt as he saw your absence of a bra. Then, without any other preamble, his lips wrapped around a peaked nipple, sucking wetly.

The mix of his mouth making out with your chest and his cock filling you up at such a haste pace had you crying out, tears spilling down your cheeks as you shuddered on his lap.

Your orgasm had triggered his own; the feel of your sopping pussy squeezing him and your cry of pleasure sent him over the edge.

His moans were animalistic as he filled you to the brim, thrusts losing their rhythm as he pumped his spend into you.

“Daryl—“ you whispered, suddenly exhausted and wanting him closer to you, despite your limbs being intertwined with one another tightly. “Baby.”

“Such a good girl,” he spoke into your neck, making no move to remove his softening cock from you. Even if he did try, you wouldn’t let him. The crazed feeling you’d felt was finally soothed, his cock inside you released relief throughout your body.

Daryl brought a finger between your thighs and his cock twitched inside you as he collected both your orgasms. “Open.”

Because you’d do anything he told you, you wordlessly opened your mouth and moaned as he stuck come covered fingers between your lips. He watched you as you sucked his fingers clean, eyes hooded with tiredness.

“C’mon, gotta get home.” He patted your waist, adoration swirling in his chest as you made no move to return to your seat. In fact, you just scooted closer until your nose grazed his sweaty neck.

“Thought we needed to get stuff.”

“Nah, we’ll just say we couldn’ find anythin’” Daryl brought a hand to your hair, gently brushing your head as you pressed kisses to his collarbone.

You both stayed connected for awhile; maybe two minutes, maybe two hours. Being close with Daryl was exactly what you’d needed to feel a little less feral.

Though, as you both finally rolled through the gates with messy hair and flushed faces, everyone looked at you both knowingly.

[sophswritingthings]

Im addicted to archer reader x mizu

Imagine, romantic tension between mizu and reader Even though bith off them would rather die than admit it, and reader gets jealous of mizu and tiagen.

Maybe reader spars with taigen to show off a bit too mizu 👀 also them just kinda having beef with taigen 👀👀

pairing: mizu x fem!archer!reader

warning(s): swearing, mizu + reader having nsfw thoughts about one another + a bit of some nsfw words/scenes

a/n: mizu watching you spar with taigen and he pins you down and she just beats the shit out of him like don’t touch. MINE

word count: 796 words / 4,280 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you stared at her as you walked. she was walking far ahead of you. just looking at her got you all hot and bothered.

she was undeniably hot. not that you’d ever admit that to her—you’d rather jump out a window than tell her that. 

all you could imagine was her, lying with her head nestled between your thighs—fucking you until you couldn’t even shoot your bow and arrow the next day.

you sighed, trying to shake your head of these thoughts.

little did you know—she happened to be thinking the same exact thing. 

she was walking in front of you; she couldn’t see you, but she could hear the sound of your footsteps, the sound of you quietly talking with ringo.

so badly did she just want to have you writhing and pleading under her. begging her to continue while she teased your body mercilessly.

those were things she’d rather die without completing her vow then ever admit to anyone. especially you.

but it felt like—every time you as much looked at one another, you could just feel the tension.

when you sparred, breathing heavy, pinned against the wall with her sword pressed against your neck. 

the way your eyes locked when you would engage in battle, together.

and simply the way you looked at her from across the room with that.. look in your brown eyes.

she didn’t know what to make of any of it, and she wasn’t going to try, because she was on a quest for revenge—not for love or lust—or.. whatever this was.

when you came to a stop, you were nestled around the fire. she could hear you and taigen sparring just a minute away, she could see you two sparring.

you had taigen pinned to the ground. her face grew hot, both  by thinking how attractive you looked while doing it—and by anger. the fact that you were sitting atop of him, and not her..

and she was making you horribly jealous, as well.

the way you saw her.. hovering over top of taigen.. having him pinned by his wrists to your cabin floor.

you went asleep jealous and wildly attracted to her, that night.

“why.. do you keep looking at me, like that?” taigen narrowed his eyes at you.

“because,” you hiss. “I don’t like you.”

“and for what? what in fucking hell did I do to you?” taigen retorts.

“you’re.. into him!” you growl, “and you’re going to stop, or I’m going to shoot an arrow right through your head.”

he snickered, “oh, that’s what this is about,” he rolled his eyes. “you’re jealous.”

“and so what if I fucking am?!” you yelp, definitely loud enough to where mizu could hear you.

“I’ll have you know—I’ve caught him talking about you on many occasions.”

mizu stares at him with wide eyes. she knows what you two are talking about, now.

you shrink back a little, your gaze shifting to mizu as you see her expression.

“I..” she whispers, “he isn’t lying.”

“.. oh,” you mumble. “okay.”

“okay?” she repeats, “what—does that mean?”

“it just means.. okay.” you murmur, “we need to talk, mizu. like.. soon.”

she sighs, “I agree,” her anger shifts to taigen. “now that taigen has decided to go and share all my secrets with whomever he pleases.”

you chuckle, a little, “yes, I suppose.”

“come with me, then.” she gestured for you to follow her.

you quickly take her up on her offer, following her out into the woods.

you walk side by side. you can feel the tension. you were unaware if it was sexual tension, or if she was going to attack you at any moment.

her hands wrap around your body, grasping at your hair as she pushes you up against a nearby tree. you gasp, your face flushing red.

“I’ve waited so long to have you like this,” mizu whispers, her lips hovering just above your ear.

a shaky breath leaves your lips, “never have I wanted something more,” you hiss, gazing at her deep blue eyes, hungry for you.

her lips crash onto yours, a soft moan leaving your lips as she does so. her hands are grasping your hair for dear life, your hands locked around her neck as you kissed her back, the desperation in your lips as you did so.

“maybe.. maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in the woods,” you huff as her lips travel to tu our throat. 

“maybe not,” her breathing his heavy, her voice husky. “later, though. I’ll have you in my bed; and have my way with you.”

she hissed the words like she would speak of her vow. unchanging and determined.

she lets go of you, slipping out of the woods, leaving you breathless against the tree.

tonight, then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: song rec time!! I can see you (taylors version) (from the vault) orrrr shut up by lauren sanderson

[satanicscreams]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK !!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which the estranged cousin finally steps foot in king's landing after so many years only to capture the attention of many...especially the heir apparent's

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: strong language, brief mention of nudity, talk of a toxic family dynamic, a one sided crush (rhaenyra is super smitten), daemon is an awful father...no surprise there, reader’s hair color is mentioned, no use of “y/n”

𝐕. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 — okay,, so technically the reader isn't a hundred percent targaryen in this one (you'll see) so my apologies for the false advertising

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐃 was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. That large patch of dirt aligned by weapons and a few dolls made of straw was seldom so tranquil. The brutish grunting of men and their steel swords clanking together was absent. All for the better, Princess Rhaenyra supposed as she made her way down the stairs that led into the yard. A gentle summer breeze bellowed through the air, picking up stray stands of Rhaenyra's otherwise neatly styled, braided hair which cascaded down her back closely resembling freshly fallen snow. The impulsive-natured young girl solely focused on the one figure present in the training yard as she stepped closer and closer, eager to not make a sound. In the midst of the yard, stood the most beautiful of people wearing dull brown trousers and a green tunic which aided her movements during her strenuous practice.

Rhaenyra harshly swallowed whilst examining the young woman of seventeen years as she pulled another arrow from the quiver resting in the dirt. Without even taking notice, the Targaryen Princess began silently—or at least she believed the action to be silent—kicking at the ground beneath her foot as excitement consumed her. The boyishly dressed female archer took her stance with her chest puffed out and back perfectly straight, legs spread apart ever so slightly. With the arrow nestled against the wooden frame of her bow and pulled back with those thin, yet surprisingly nimble fingers, Rhaenyra watched on with pure amazement. Stretching the bowstring to its full potential, the light brown-haired archer felt the pressure of her weapon against her skin and through her arms.

With that, she proceeded to shut one eye and continued to steadily breathe as she inspected the distance between herself and the target. The archer lacked no concentration...not even with a platinum-haired Princess boring two holes into the back of her head by staring so hard. The seventeen-year-old smirked to herself, forcing out an exhale through the minimal gap that had appeared between her lips. Arms tensing when she heard Rhaenyra move closer, the brown-haired beauty dared not release the arrow even if her fingers begged her to do so. With her hands clasped behind her back, the Princess prided herself on remaining hidden and soft-footed like a cat in the night, though she gave herself too much of that pride.

"I advise you to not stare for too long, dear cousin. My fingers do tend to tense up when so much judgment is cast upon me all at once. Those prepossessing eyes of yours are much too eager to understand my motives."

The lady archer teasingly admitted, that previous smirk never once going away. That customary smugness could be heard in her tone of voice and attributed to the infamous man who fathered her. A sudden hue of crimson overcame the apples of Rhaenyra's cheeks the very moment she was addressed. In resemblance to that of a hummingbird's, the platinum-haired girl felt her heart beat in an unnaturally fast manner when hearing her breathtaking older cousin's saccharine voice for the first time in...well, a very long while. The notion of composing herself nearly slipped Rhaenyra's mind as another short-lived gust of wind swept through the training yard.

The younger girl smelled her cousin's natural scent consisting of wild berries and the neutral aroma of perspiration after standing in the sun for an extended time. Rhaenyra loved her cousin. Perhaps a little bit more than she had ever intended. The heir apparent oftentimes battled with overly detailed thoughts of sharing intimate moments with her beloved cousin which would prove as sacrilege were anyone else to learn about such a secret. Two young women were never meant to engage in such sinful activities. All the more reason Rhaenyra shamed herself for imagining such things...still, she never stopped. The Princess relied heavily upon her limitless imagination to create a bountiful courtship between herself and her cousin. 

"I was not—There was no judgment, cousin. Merely an intrigue. Never have I witnessed such natural aptitude through archery. My uncle—your father, must be satisfied with the talents you possess—"

With the unexpected and audible swish of an arrow, followed by the dull thump as the pointed piece of wood wedged itself into the center of the target, Rhaenyra lost sight of her compliment—utterly interrupted. Her cousin wordlessly made it clear that she wished to hear no such thing. Especially when it involved her loathsome father. The platinum-haired girl, in the meanwhile, observed the target with an arrow sticking out the middle of it, the image serving as a reminder that her cousin was a masterful archer—a true warrior.

And when Rhaenyra felt the older girl's hand gently latch onto her wrist, she had no choice but to meet those familiar amethyst eyes she often dreamed about��the eyes which were primarily reserved for members of House Targaryen. Whether the brown-haired young woman liked it or not, she was half a Targaryen by blood. Her father had cursed her with those amethyst eyes alongside a foolhardy demeanor. However, the aspiring archer was sedulous—something her father was not and a trait she had inherited from her mother. 

"Do not be so foolish, Rhaenyra. My father, though I wish to not name him as such, has never been attentive nor loving. In truth, it was his will to return to King's Landing so he could assert himself as someone of high importance. I was content in the Reach beside my mother. The letter I received from him held a sort of directness and self-centered view of what he felt he was deserving of. He yearns to rule alongside a hideous lack of respect for compassion. That callous disregard was what my mother deemed a sense of adventure when stumbling into bed with him. Perhaps she was a lovesick child. But I am no fool. If he wishes to dismiss his responsibilities as a father then he does not deserve the love of a daughter. I have no further qualms with him for I am truly a daughter of war rather than a dragon."

Rhaenyra listened attentively to what her cousin had to say in regard to her uncle Daemon, though the Princess remained skeptical of whether or not both father and daughter had truly resolved their differences. The Rogue Prince was stubborn and his daughter even more so. And while Rhaenyra took in the rather emotionally charged words, she became hypnotized by her cousin's natural beauty. The young woman's complexion was partially tanned—completely void of that pale Targaryen skin that Rhaenyra herself boasted.

As for her hair, it was shorter than most noble ladies would have worn it, though the archer wasn't a noble lady. Light brown hair reached just above her shoulders and resembled the shade of chestnuts. And of course, her amethyst eyes sparkled in the midday sunlight. Rhaenyra's endearing gaze was sadly not noticed by her cousin on account of the older girl being distracted. With thoughts of her father no less. More specifically their journey to King's Landing. It was a miserable endeavor to travel from the Reach to King's Landing atop a dragon with Daemon. Caraxes, the young woman did not mind, but her father...that was another matter entirely. She vividly recalled the conversation upon their arrival. 

"It has been ten trivial years since you have been granted the rare privilege to step into the Red Keep and intermingle with nobility. While your mother restricts your freedom and keeps you locked away in that insufferable village, I offer you opportunities not many women of your standing can encounter. Still, you have not shown how grateful you are."

The young woman deemed her father's self-righteous monologue to be painful and a waste of time. Still, her reply was coated in sarcasm, meant to defy: 

"I am forever indebted to you, father. Perhaps if this dress was not constricting every portion of my body then I could bow down like a true, obedient lowborn. My assumption remains unchanged: you adore to remind me of my lack of repute."

"I have made many sacrifices on your behalf. This is your wretched mother's doing. She feeds you these fictitious tales of how I am this monstrous creature who you should loathe—"

"Do not speak ill of my mother! You abandoned her once she spoke of conceiving a babe! You abandoned me! Your only living child and only hope for becoming a better man!"

Many idle individuals, mostly knights, witnessed the heated dispute between the young woman and her father as they neared the extravagant castle on foot. The brown-haired beauty's lips were curled up in disgust while Daemon's eyes held scorn like no other. 

If looks could kill...

"What was I supposed to do!? Your mother was a lowborn whore and I was—I am a prince belonging to an ongoing legacy. And you...you were the outcome of failed judgment."

Daemon's daughter incredulously scoffed and rolled her light eyes at the deeming words used against her and her mother—the lovelorn woman who dared give her heart and body to a destructive Targaryen man. Said man held no regard for anyone. All he cared for was himself. 

"Once, when I was young and foolish, I defended your actions. I attempted to preserve your honor. However, you've proven what sort of hatred you are capable of. The shame of being your daughter is debilitating."

"I rather despise witnessing you become a daughter of war...a disposable soldier for whichever lord is determined to have you serve his house. You have a much greater purpose here...with me."

Rhaenyra softly murmured, too apprehensive to boldly speak her mind in the presence of the young woman who would most certainly believe her to be a foolish little girl if she were too confident with her response. The Princess's cousin only gave a heartfelt smile and shook her head when looking at the starry-eyed girl. 

The brunette had knowledge about just how much Rhaenyra adored her which did not help the dismal quality of the heir apparent's words. The last time she visited, Rhaenyra acted nearly identical—not bearing to let her leave and begging for her skillful cousin to remain in King's Landing so they could gossip and stir up trouble whenever possible. It was sweet...like a younger sister wishing for attention. Even so, the brunette had a swift response to her royal cousin: 

"Gaudy dresses and jewelry do not tempt me to remain in King's Landing, Rhaenyra. I am no Princess. I am no Lady. And I prefer to live out my days without any prestigious titles. My father's vile reputation is the sole reason many courtiers do not know of me. I do not wish to be revered in any sense."

Rhaenyra felt idiotic all the more after hearing such a string of words counter hers. The Princess cursed herself for being so ignorant and impetuous. Of course, her older cousin wouldn't wish to remain in King's Landing and live like a proper lady. Upon a second glance at the seventeen year old's masculine attire, Rhaenyra frowned slightly at the prospect of never being able to change the mind of the only person she truly, truly loved. The Targaryen girl was infatuated by the essence of her cousin—the way she spoke so fiercely, the way she acted so bravely, and the way she appeared like a goddess amongst men. In the midst of her daydream, Rhaenyra was not thinking rationally, hence why she inquired: 

"Would you care to join me and Alicent in the gardens after supper?"

The way her cousin shook her head, signaling a nonverbal "no" was the only answer Rhaenyra Targaryen needed. Though it only broke the platinum-haired girl's heart further when her cousin decided to further elaborate. 

"Gossip regarding handsome men does not tempt me either. I suppose you and that green little bitch will disregard the prospect of discussing battle plans and other such strategic considerations—"

The young woman supposed correctly which forced Rhaenyra to bite down on the insides of her cheeks as she began toying with the pretty gold pendant around her neck...then she suddenly stopped once the jewelry reminded her of who she was: a spoiled child of a King. A proper girl who had enough riches to her family name to rival all other houses. Rhaenyra felt a wave of insecurity washing over her since, in comparison to her cousin, she was given everything she desired. 

The Princess began feeling like a burden in the presence of the gorgeous brown-haired young woman. As for the archer, even the mere thought of interacting with Alicent Hightower for a second time made her skin crawl. They could both trace their beginnings back to the Reach and still, the two young women did not find each other compatible. Alicent was much too polite—the embodiment of a highborn woman with plenty of judgment to spare. In her eyes, the daughter—the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen was much too wild...and slightly frightening. 

"No. W-We shall not do such a thing."

Vehemently, Rhaenyra denied the truth. Though her voice betrayed the younger girl when it shook unwillingly. In return, the Princess was blessed with the melodious, twinkling sound of the brunette's laughter as she leaned down to collect another arrow from her quiver. Again, the young archer took her stance and prepared to shoot but not before lining up her weapon with the target. 

"You are a dreadful liar, dear cousin. A natural beauty, but a dreadful liar I'm afraid. Give my condolences to that Hightower companion of yours. She seems to have an equally abhorrent father. We have that in common."

The Targaryen barely had time to comprehend her cousin's words before that all too familiar swish of the arrow cut through the air and unsurprisingly, made it to the center of the target—right beside the other one. The brown-haired young woman hummed in approval when assessing her capabilities. Rhaenyra knew her cousin had too much potential to waste in King's Landing and that prospect placed her in a limbo between contentment and melancholy. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

"I do wish I could kill you." 

The brunette said without any humor at all as she valiantly attempted to bite back an oncoming shiver caused by the cool water which had been splashed onto her skin. She had not succeeded as proven by the goosebumps steadily appearing on her fully nude form. The difference between the temperature of her sweat-covered body and the sea water was not a pleasant one. It also seemed worse when having to witness the coy smile on Rhaenyra's lips. The young Princess had been the culprit who scooped up a handful of briny water and threw it in her cousin's direction.

After a rather lengthy training session, all the brunette wished to do was take a dip in the sea. Rhaenyra had granted that wish by dragging the older girl to a rather secluded area of shoreline attached to the Red Keep, though what the platinum-haired girl did not expect was for her cousin to strip away all her clothing and display a body that was surely envied by most women: toned arms and long legs complimented by proportionate curves along her hips. Rhaenyra found those inquisitive eyes of hers trailing up and down—almost instinctively lingering on the ample breasts presented to her.

Of course, the girl's cousin meant it as an innocent gesture to undress, but Rhaenyra could not seem to bear the sight of the ideal female physique. She wished to join the brunette and step into the water, but she didn't dare shed her dress—the outcome of slight bashfulness and not wishing to be caught in the nude by any of her courtiers. Thus, the Targaryen sat herself down on the sand and rocks, occasionally fanning herself with her hand to battle the blistering heat. 

"Lies. You stand in awe of me. Besides, senseless killing is a deed committed by men who think themselves superior. You are no man, thank the Gods." 

Rhaenyra's retort forced an unladylike snort out of her cousin as the brown-haired young woman placed her hands on her hips, staring out at the vastness of the blue water. With the young woman's back turned, Rhaenyra had the opportunity to examine the bare flesh before her once more. Though she felt her face grow hot—and not only because of the sun—which made her shift her focus onto the rocks which littered the ground. 

The Princess only looked back up when she heard the jostling of bare feet against the pebbles, instantly noticing the way her cousin lowered herself into the water and rolled onto her stomach so the two of them could make proper eye contact. With her lower half still in the water, the brunette took pleasure in the sloshing of the water and the way the waves drew in and out. Propping herself up on her arms, she stared at Rhaenyra with a playful glint in her eyes, which caused the girl in question to blush even more. 

"You're quite right, Rhaenyra. Though I must admit, if I were a man, I would not be such a craven as to butcher a princess—a beautiful young girl who has the utmost potential to uphold the laws of the realm and make it prosperous. No, if I were a man, I would take pleasure in slaughtering those who truly deserve it. Most tempting of all to envision: if I were born a man, I wager I'd be blessed with both a glorious physique and many other desirable attributes. I do believe I would be envied."

It seemed Rhaenyra could not fight the unrefined chuckle that she let out after hearing her cousin's unrelenting narcissism. The Princess greatly enjoyed it. She always had. There were no talks of...proper things—the concepts she discussed with Alicent regularly. Conversations with her cousin consisted of topics a lady wouldn't dare utter in the presence of others. It was one of the many reasons Rhaenyra adored her older cousin so much. There were one too many in all honesty. 

"All this talk of killing...Dare I assume that you and Daemon are more alike than you both care to admit?" 

Rhaenyra felt her words turn sour once they left her lips and the platinum-haired girl soon enough felt herself shrinking underneath the brunette's murderous expression. Though such a strong reaction wasn't directed at Rhaenyra. No, not at all. The Princess's cousin had an entirely different issue. 

"You spoil the day by merely alluding to him. My fath—Daemon Targaryen forced me to accompany him to King's Landing. He is disillusioned enough to believe that there is no greater privilege than residing amongst nobility...or the flock of gossiping hens he deems as the idyllic example of nobility. I cannot stand to be in close proximity to prudish noble ladies who turn pale at the mention of bloody battles. Still, I have yet to speak of the hilarities regarding my predicament: your uncle bids me to make merry with these women and find companions with a true feminine perspective. So tell me, Princess, how might I accomplish this task without further dampening the spirit of the man who dragged me all this way? I seem to be a thorn in his side." 

The young woman did not receive a genuine solution from Rhaenyra. The platinum-haired girl could only shrug and let out an exasperated breath as she thought of her uncle and how cruel he could be. Rhaenyra wished to provide an answer, but how could she? She was regularly having difficulties with her own father and she did not wish to care. 

"I truly have no knowledge of the quandary between you and my uncle, though I am aware of how...bothersome Daemon can become when he does not get his way. If he wishes for you to behave as a civilized, noblewoman should then perhaps you should consider not heedlessly flaunting your bare tits about."

"My condolences, Princess. I did not expect my tits to cause such a great hindrance to your focus. I cannot say that I hold blame for that. They are appealing...and very firm...and much bigger than yours." 

The brunette expertly countered her royal cousin's joke, prompting Rhaenyra's eyebrows to raise and her mouth to part in complete surprise. Perhaps what her cousin said was true, but even so, Rhaenyra did not expect such a mischievous insult to be hurled at her so effortlessly. Picking up a rock that rested near her, Rhaenyra tossed it into the water and was unimpressed by the lack of distance the object got as it sank beneath the surface of the waves. The girl sighed and feigned hurt in her rebuttal:

"Oh, good. My cousin who strays farther from her family than her own father—the cousin whom I barely speak with, decides to insult me upon a rare visit."

"Don't pout. It was a mere jest. You're still young. I am certain that you shall grow into your womanly beauty rather quickly. Now, tell me of Syrax. No, no. Tell me when you are able to show me the Realm on dragon back. I'd rather like to see the Narrow Sea from above."

Chewing on the insides of cheeks—as it had become a recent habit of Rhaenyra's—the Princess could not find it within herself to continue the conversation without revealing her feelings...just not in the appropriate manner. 

"I wish for you to stay in King's Landing for all eternity. By my side. Then I would be able to show you the Narrow Sea on dragon back on every occasion you desire. I adore your company all too much. You are the only one who truly understands my troubles. You are the only one capable of defending my irrationality in the presence of my father." 

Rhaenyra heard her voice nearly fall silent by the end of her speech and it was then that she frowned while staring down at her hands, attempting to hold back tears for sounding more juvenile than she would have preferred. Hearing the brunette chuckle pushed Rhaenyra closer and closer to shedding tears. The Princess felt oh so childish. Her cousin did not understand. She would never understand. 

"A fair assertion. I would take great pleasure in riding atop your dragon whenever I wanted. Though I would go entirely mad if I had to endure King's Landing for too long. And my mother would be distraught. As would my betrothed." 

"Your 'betrothed'?" 

Rhaenyra felt her tears dry up instantly once she heard the cursed word that had once or twice made it into her conscience and bothered her to no end while also furthering the notion that her cousin would one day leave her completely. Rhaenyra should have expected it—most young women of seventeen were betrothed or already married. It was, in every sense, an upsetting concept for Rhaenyra to know of the existence of some man who had won her cousin's heart. The Princess already despised the man, having not ever met him. No man was good enough for the brunette. No man was worthy of her love. 

"Mhm, yes. A handsome, albeit a rather delinquent knight to House Redwyne—"

Rhaenyra's headstrong attitude combined with her determination to say something disallowed her cousin to continue to speak about the young knight who had been charming enough to tempt the brunette's desires. Oblivious to the Princess's jealousy, the brown-haired archer cocked an eyebrow in intrigue as she listened to her cousin's off-topic and rather desperate utterance. 

"Vow that you'll travel to King's Landing with regularity that will rival all your previous visits. Swear this to me...Please."

The urgency in those words could not be brushed aside nor would the young woman still positioned on her stomach, halfway in the water. She could never be so heartless as to ignore her cousin's wishes. 

"I swear it, Rhaenyra..."

The brunette trailed off as she came to rest her head in the palm of her hand, ultimately sharing a glance with Rhaenyra Targaryen and giving her a smile—a smile that made the young girl's heart melt. 

"...You, dear cousin, shall make a fearsome Queen one day."

[thatsdemko]

the archer - l.stroll

t-swift inspired works masterlist

full masterlist

pairing: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: anxious thoughts + an extra t-swift reference if ya catch it!

help me hold on to you

I've been the archer

I've been the prey

an arrow shot to the heart, that’s how you feel right now. like you’ve been shot by Cupid, and you can’t help but act the way you do right now.

the way you’re leaning into him, laughter comes from your belly, genuine smiles that crinkle your eyes until they’re nothing. you’re his prey. he is the archer.

he moves slow. hands reaching your thighs, sweet kisses to your cheek, shoulders brushing, the innocence of it all kills you.

you can’t read him, you can’t tell if he wants your hand in his, or if he just wants his space. he wants to reach out, pounce like a hunter, and tell you, but it’s better this way. the mystery, the unknown, it leaves it open for your own interpretations. but it kills him, his wound is oozing with your love, but yet you can’t see it. do they see right through me?

“stay,” he whispers, cracked voice, his arms feel heavy as they reach out for you, like something weighs him down, “if you want.” he adds, seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, but he knows you’ll never leave. he’s got you warped in, all he has to do is aim and shoot.

“do you want me to?” you ask. it’s ridiculous question, of course he does. the loss kills him, and he’d rather not be alone.

your eyes flicker up from the floor meeting his, and you’re sucked in. body moving without even having a chance to second guess yourself, you’re already sliding beside him on the floor of his drivers room. shoulders brushing, his sweaty thick brown hair brushes your neck, body nuzzling against yours for comfort.

your heart swells, and he can feel it. he feels your hesitation to sink in with him. he’s got his arrow aimed, it’s a matter of if you fall with him; be his prey.

your eyes shut, body sinking down the wall a little bit, you feel his hand reach across your lap. he squeezes your thigh, it lets you know you’re safe. his lips brush your jawline, “I see right through you, you’re scared.” he whispers. your eyelids fling open to his words. you find a crack in the wall to stare it, ignoring his words. you can’t look at him when you tell him your truth. I see right through me.

“I’m scared of love, Lance. I’m scared that if I fall, you’ll leave me.” the words you never wanted to admit, float out of your body. you have officially surrendered yourself, your past battle scars and bruises are open for him to see. screaming who could ever leave me, darling? who could stay?

he sits up, hair brushing your cheek as he adjusts himself off of you. he turns his body to face you, big worried brown eyes find yours, his hand cups your cheek, pad of his thumb swipes across your skin, “I’d never leave. just let me love you.”

you can feel your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and for the first time your mind falls short for words. the only thing you can think of doing is kissing his lips, and you do. it catches him off guard, he likes that, he knows his shot didn’t miss.

it’s right through the heart.

You could stay

You could stay

Combat, I'm ready for combat

tags: @oconso @xcicix

want to be apart of my general tag list? let me know here!

[yespolkadotkitty]

Kinktober Day 4 - shower/tub sex

I skipped Day 3 - nipple play - because I had a hella busy weekend and bc nipple play isn’t particularly my bag.

May I present a brief break in our regular programming for some light Shang-Chi fluff/angst/smut.

Pairing: Shaun/Shang-Chi x fem! HCP reader

Words: 675 ~ Warnings: angst, swears, very soft sex. No use of y/n.

**

We’re back.

The text from Katy turned your world upside down. You stared at the screen for a moment, willing words to transfer from your brain to the screen, but there were too many. Finally, you typed: Where is he?

You watched the little dots that indicated Katy was typing.

His place.

I’m at mine. So, you know, if you wanted to go over-

Katy had long been at you to confess your feelings to Shaun.

You stuffed your dirty scrubs in the hospital wash bin, thankful that you were just ending a shift, not just starting one. You wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on patients knowing that Shaun was back.

The garbled message from him, punctuated by traffic noise - I have to go away for a while, explain when I’m back - had set you on edge for weeks.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to deck him or kiss him. Maybe both.

On Day 8 of his hiatus, you’d let yourself into his place - you, he and Katy all had keys to each other’s homes - and snuggled into one of his hoodies, falling asleep on the couch.

You took the bus to his place, alighting at the familiar stop and weaving through a farmer’s market. The sun was low in the sky, and the humid air made your nervous sweat more acute.

You knocked his door in a pretence of being polite, when you wanted to hammer it down.

He didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

As you shut the door, you heard a groan from further in the apartment. You dumped your bag, and spied a trail of clothes on the floor. Your blood heated.

He’s probably in the shower.

I should go.

But you didn’t.

“Shaun?”

No answer.

You stepped into the tiny hall. The bathroom door was ajar, and without thinking, you pushed it open.

Shaun turned, surprise in his brown eyes as he mouthed your name.

“So it’s true,” you accused. “You are back.”

“I’m sorry-”

You barely took in the fact he wore only boxers and holy crap he was built. “You’re sorry? It’s been four weeks! I thought you might have died-”

His mouth settled into a firm line. “Katy was with me-”

And that was a sore point. “I know! You took Katy, but left me behind-”

“-She didn’t give me much of a choice-”

You shoved him, dead centre of his chest. “You could have asked-”

“It was going to be dangerous-”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a reply, but no words came out. Finally, you whispered, “I thought you were dead, Shaun. I thought you were dead, and I’d never get to tell you…”

Realisation dawned on his handsome face as you gazed at each other, and then, then, he pulled you into his arms and you sobbed against his chest. His skin was warm and firm and you cuddled in, crying nonsense words.

“I wanted to tell you,” he murmured into your hair. “But I was supposed to do what - just ask a doctor to leave her patients for fuck knows how long?”

He had a point and you hated that.

“I wish you’d been with us,” he added. “I saw my father. And met my Aunt. And Katy’s a crack archer now.”

You jerked your head up. “You - what the hell? Where did you go? What did you do?”

Shaun sighed. “I have a lot to tell you. But right now, in this moment? I’m more interested in hearing what you thought you’d never get to tell me.”

“You really don’t know? You’re an idiot. I let myself in while you were away and slept on your couch.” You poked him in the chest to punctuate each word of the last sentence.

Shaun’s brows winged up. “You-”

“I love you, you absolute-”

You never got to finish because Shaun cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. Whisper-soft at first, and then when you opened for him, the kiss turned hungry. You clutched at his shoulders, then slid your hands into his hair, gasping when he settled his hands under your ass and boosted you up. Your legs came around his waist and - holy shit, he was into this, if the evidence against your belly was any indication.

“I love you, too,” he panted, at length.

You nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. “Ugh, I wish I could wash the hospital off me.”

Shaun nodded to the shower. “Well, I was about to get in there…”

Your pulse rocketed. “Yes.”

This was not how you had pictured your day ending when Katy’s text had come through, but right now, you were elated.

Between kisses, Shaun undressed you hurriedly, and you helped him along, getting a case of the giggles when removing your leggings tickled your thighs. The laughter might have made you feel uncomfortable with another man, but this was Shaun, who sang terrible karaoke and made you ramen on your days off and shared his Pocky with you.

When you were naked, he pulled you close, his dark gaze drinking you in.

“You’re beautiful.”

How you’d dreamed of hearing those words in his deep voice.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You tugged at the waist of his boxers. “Could use less clothes.”

He grinned, cheeky and confident, and your heart pounded at how handsome he was, and how much you wanted him. “Help yourself.”

You did, and he was long and thick and ready, and you watched him struggle for control as you wrapped your hand around him, kissing the groan off his lips.

“Shower, now.”

He turned the water on and tugged you inside, shutting the glass door, and you were cocooned in his arms under the hot spray. You lifted your face for his kiss and he obliged. Steam fogged up the glass and it was like being in your own private world.

You learned each other’s bodies with tongue and teeth and hands, and he left you breathless, until you could only moan his name, your hands in his hair as he did his best to spell his name on your clit with his talented tongue.

When the orgasm broke over you, he lifted you as your legs shook, braced you against the shower wall, and slid home, and it was all you’d ever wanted. He was all you’d ever wanted.

“Shaun,” you groaned against his neck.

He smiled into your hair. “It’s Shang-Chi.” At your puzzled hmmm, he added, “We have a lot to talk about, but it’s hard to think when you’re naked.”

You pulled him back in for another kiss. “Okay. We’ll think later.”

---

Unbeta’d.

I’m not sure who from my list would want to be tagged in this but I do think @astroboots​ will like it.

[amphxtrite]

pietro maximoff x fem! reader

warnings: being picked up, tooth-rotting fluff (literally)

summary: pietro goes on his first camping trip.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: thank you to @sweetandsunny for the writing prompts that helped me write this!! ly sunny <3

translations: printsessa- princess, krasivaya- beautiful, milashka- cutie, dorogoy- darling.

———————————————————————————

“Finally Friday.” You yawn to yourself as you collapse onto your bed, after a long week of helping out the team and training, it was time to kick back, relax and-

“Hello Printsessa!”

Oh right, you smirk to yourself, peaking one eye open to see your speedster boyfriend standing at your doorway, a giddy smile on his face.

“Hey Piet.” You murmur, allowing yourself a small smirk as his eyes bounce back and forth from the spot in bed beside you and your eyes, subtly asking for permission.

“Oh alright, come here.” You giggle, opening your arms and immediately feeling Pietro’s body next to your and his arms around your torso.

A content sigh leaves his lips.

“Dorogoy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and snuggling himself closer to your chest.

You smile to yourself and press a peck to Pietro’s blonde hair as fatigue takes over your form.

Now it was time to-

“Okay! If the clothes are off, put them back on, if the lips are locked, unlock them because dad’s here!” A voice suddenly yells, catching both you and Pietro off guard.

You yelp, and sit up suddenly to see your father covering his eyes and standing by the door he just kicked open.

“Ugh, open your eyes dad, we aren’t doing anything.” You groan, falling back down.

“Yes Clint, we were only sleeping!” Pietro chimes, suddenly across the room from you.

“Well it doesn’t matter, get your bag kid, we're going camping!” Clint cheers, throwing his fists in the air.

“And speedy can come too, why not.” Clint shrugs, causing Pietro’s eyes to widen. “I-I don’t want to intrude-”

“Dad, it’s Friday, we’ve been working all week, can’t we go another time?” You plead, finally sitting up.

“Sorry kiddo, but it’s Barton weekend number one, and your siblings and you agreed you would get the first weekend.” The archer smirks, looking at his daughter.

You glance at your calendar and sure enough the yearly event posted on the date was ‘weekend with dad.’

The little voice in your head cheers sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll get packed.” You murmur, standing and grabbing your overnight bag from the floor.

“That’s the spirit!” Clint whoops.

“I should probably-”

Clint’s smile drops.

“Not so fast blondie, get your bags packed, you’re going.” Your father says sternly, patting the Avenger on the back on his way out of the room.

“You better listen, last time I told him no he didn’t make me waffles for six months.” You shudder.

Pietro’s jaw drops, “not the waffles.”

A blue blue went out and back into your room as Pietro returns with a bag slung over his shoulder and wearing clothes a little more suited for the wilderness.

You laugh and shake your head.

“Mind helping me Pietro?” You suggest.

“Of course, milashka.” He grins, pecking you on the forehead as he begins helping you, at a normal pace.

“So tell me again where we’re going, dad.” You question, readjusting your bag straps again as you walk further into the dense forest in front of you.

“A new spot I found while hiking the other day, great place to see the stars…” Your father responds, almost nervously.

“Oh no, I know that voice.” You groan, rolling your eyes as Pietro looks at you confused.

“What is it?” Sokovian asks.

“We’re lost.” You respond plainly, popping the ‘t.’

“We are not lost.” Clint sighs, moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“He brought us out here to die.” You shrug sarcastically.

“You brought us here to die?!” Pietro squeaks, misunderstanding the joke.

“Well, obviously.” Your dad jokes back, not knowing about Pietro’s state.

The platinum blonde man begins murmuring a silent prayer as you and your father continue to banter.

“Let future campers see us as a warning to halt before considering being active.” You sigh dramatically.

“Yes, and may they tell stories of us around the campfires and how great we were.” Clint continues.

Pietro’s brows were furrowed now, very confused by what was going on.

“I cannot tell if you two are being sarcastic or if we are really lost.” He mutters.

You look back over at your boyfriend and the look on his face was priceless, you begin bursting into a fit of laughter, your dad following shortly behind after he catches a glimpse of the mix of concern, fear and confusion slapped onto Pietro’s face

“O-Oh my gosh.” You laugh, placing your hand on Pietro’s arm. “You poor thing, you thought we were serious?” You coo, moving your hands up to Pietro’s cheeks as if he were the most innocent being alive. “Oh you’re adorable.”

“It’s a tradition for the kids, I gotta keep them on their toes.” Clint winks, patting Pietro on the back. “I almost had you this year.” The older Avenger sighs, placing his hand on your head and rustling your hair around.

“In your dreams old man, I saw it a mile away.” You smirk, rolling your eyes and joining your fingers with Pietro’s.

“Okay, okay. The site’s this way, come on.” Your father says, pointing in the direction you could hear rushing water from.

You nod and pull your boyfriend along beside you.

“You’ll get used to it Piet, my sibling’s and I were fooled every year until we started seeing the pattern.” You sigh, reminiscing in your memories of being scared to death as a kid.

“I can see why.” Pietro mutters, still slightly baffled at what had just happened.

Your lips pull even further up into a wide smile and you squeeze Pietro’s hand reassuringly.

“I’ll make sure dad doesn’t do that again, now hurry up, the sun’s setting and we haven’t even pitched our tent.” You laugh, pulling Pietro into a jog and catching up with your dad.

“That’ll do it.” Clint chuckles, stepping back and admiring his tent.

“Mines up too, dad!” You call, unzipping your tent and throwing your sleeping bag inside.

“How about you Pietro, how’s it-”

“Um, a little help?” A weak voice chimes from nearby.

You and your father turn around to see a mess of a tent behind you, beams sticking all over the place and a flustered Pietro standing in front of it, covering whatever he could.

“I-I’ve never been camping, I have only ever seen it on television.” He confesses, crossing his arms.

“Awe Pietro!” You coo, walking over to the pouting Sokovian and wrapping your arms around him.

“Here, hold this part up- Dad, you wanna get in on this?” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Clint chuckles, jogging over and holding up the other half of Pietro’s tent as you begin feeding the thin pole through the thin material, with all three of you, the tent went up quickly and as you stood back to admire your work Pietro giddily runs up and scoops you into his arms.

“You are amazing, krasivaya! absolutely amazing!” He beams, spinning you in circles.

“Hey Piet! I’m getting dizzy!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders and silently praying he’d never put you down.

“Alright you two, stop it before I throw up.” Your father sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing a marshmallow, managing to nail it right on your forehead.

To your dismay, Pietro places you back on the ground and takes your hand as he walks over to the small fire Clint had gotten started.

You sit on one of the chairs set up and accept a small stick and a marshmallow from your dad.

You smirk and stab the fluffy white treat onto the end of your twig and place it above the fire.

Pietro follows your lead and loses focus as the flames seem to swallow his marshmallow whole.

You skillfully pull your marshmallow out as it turns a perfect golden brown, but Pietro isn’t so lucky.

He lifts his stick from the fire to find a small bonfire on the end, and his marshmallow begins to burn.

“Oh- Pietro blow it out!” You rush.

“Right.” He squeals, taking a deep breath and ridding of the fire, leaving him with a charred blob.

“Aw it’s okay Pietro, you can just-.”

The blonde doesn’t let you finish and instead places the whole marshmallow into his mouth.

“-throw it into the fire…”

Pietro’s face contorts from neutral, to disgust, to glee in seconds. His eyebrows raise in surprise and his feet tap happily.

“It’s delicious! a little bitter at first but the rest is perfect!” Pietro muses, quickly snagging the bag of soft treats from your dad’s lap and sticking a bunch onto the end of his stick.

You smile at Pietro’s childlike glee and place your own marshmallow into your mouth, savouring the sweet crust and melts inside in your mouth as your boyfriend ate his like a sweet, sticky kebab.

The sky turns dark and you teach Pietro to make the perfect marshmallow, tell him scary stories and make shadow puppets with the fire’s light just like your dad would do with you when you were young. Clint had grown tired of your couple's antics quickly and retired to his tent earlier, leaving you and Pietro alone.

“Piet, you’ve still got bits of marshmallow on your face.” You laugh, wiping the remnants of sticky sugar out of his goatee and off his nose. Pietro looks down at you lovingly and notices a tiny bit of marshmallow on your bottom lip, without hesitation, his fingers move to your chin and he tilts your head up to let your eyes meet.

Leaning down, your lips meet in a sweet kiss. The taste of marshmallow and charcoal bring smiles to both of your faces as Pietro deepens the kiss. The fire crackles quietly beside you as Pietro’s hands move to your back to pull you closer. Your fingers find their way into his soft hair, tugging ever so gently.

You both part for breath, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breaths.

“You had some marshmallow on your lip, dorogoy.” Pietro smiles sheepishly.

“You don’t say?” You giggle, pressing kisses onto the edges of Pietro’s mouth.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you bask in each other’s warmth, Pietro’s hands sliding up and down your arms and your fingers tangling themselves in his wavy locks.

“Thank you Printsessa, this has been one of the best nights of my life.” Pietro sighs with a grin.

“One of them?” You joke, leaning into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Oh tsvesti, do you think I’ll ever forget the night we first met? Or our first kiss?” Pietro fires back playfully, wrapping his arms around your tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, you got me Pie.” You sigh, cuddling closer into him.

“I know, zefir.” Pietro smirks.

“Wait, what does that one mean?” You ask, smiling at the new nickname.

“It means marshmallow, Printsessa. I think it’s very fitting for you.” He smiles, evidently very proud of himself.

You laugh lightly and nod.

“It’s perfect.”

[chevyslate158]

Threads Of Freedom 15th Hunger Games AU Archer Brown x Fem!Reader: Chapter 2 - Dreamer

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy Chapter 2 of Threads of Freedom, my 15th Hunger Games AU featuring Archer Brown. If you haven’t read the first chapter yet, make sure to check it out so you’re all caught up! This chapter is a bit longer compared to the last because I wanted to dive deeper into the family backstory and—excitingly—finally introduce Coriolanus Snow into the mix. I may have gotten a little carried away with the writing, but I hope it makes for an engaging read.

Also, if you’re enjoying this story, feel free to check out my new Coriolanus short story—it’s a little side project I posted earlier in the week, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it too. Thank you for reading, and as always, feedback is more than welcome! Stay tuned for chapter 3! 😊 Word count: 4.5K Warnings: Violence, blood, illness, mentions of death, control, threats, mentions of hanging, physical conflict, harassment and themes of oppression Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning air in the Seam is sharp and biting, cutting through the thin fabric of my blanket as I shift from side to side, trying to hold on to the last bit of warmth. My eyes flutter open, and I stare at the beams above, their worn edges casting familiar shadows across the ceiling. I take a deep breath savouring the silence in the early hour. Outside, the first faint sounds of the district stirring can be heard—creaks of carts, low murmurs of voices, the rhythm of life in District 12. I know if I linger much longer, I’ll never get up, so I finally throw off the covers, swinging my feet to the floor.

My dress from yesterday is folded at the edge of my bed a soft baby blue once a more bright vibrant colour but now faded from the years of wear and scrubbing, its hem frayed and patched in a dozen places. I run my fingers over the familiar threads, tiny stitches my mother once sewed into each rip and tear with quiet patience.

Now, I am mending myself, but I’ve come to realise that my hands will never have the same gentle skill. There’s an ache in me, thinking of her soft touch, the way she would hum in the mornings as she tied my dress strings. Passing only as of last winter, her cough grew worse each day until it finally took her. Now that same cough rattles in my father’s chest, though he pretends it’s nothing but dust from the mines. His stubbornness is like a wall between us, keeping me out and locking him in.

I pull the dress over my head, tugging it into place as I catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror propped up by the window. My reflection is a stranger—there’s something in my eyes that wasn’t there before, a hardness that's only becoming more common as time passes by. I glanced at my wild hair in the mirror, the strands sticking out in every direction from a night of restless sleep. With quick, practised ease, I began to work through the tangles, smoothing it down and fixing it up until it finally lay presentable. Once finished, I decided to leave it down, letting it fall freely around the back of my frame.

I couldn’t help but remember when Ma used to sit me on the edge of the worn wooden chair, her hands gentle as she worked through my hair. Her fingers would weave through the tangles, humming softly, making me feel safe as she pulled it back into neat braids or whatever style I desired on the day, the scent of her homemade lavender soap lingering in my hair long after she finished. I used to laugh when she’d ask me how it looked, always proud of her work.

With Ma gone, it's just me and him now. The kitchen is quiet when I step in, but I see his mug on the table, a reminder of his stubborn routine. He'll be up soon, insisting he's fine, brushing off the faint wheeze in his chest.

He won't admit it, but I see the sickness in him—the way he winces, the way his hand shakes slightly as he lifts his mug. And though he tries to hide it, I see Ma in him every day, a reminder of the ending that's coming for him too, unless I can do something. I don't know what yet, but I'm determined to find it. No matter what.

I am snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the familiar creak of the floorboards before I see him, my father slowly shuffling into the kitchen with that same weary, pained look in his eyes. It’s been like this for weeks now, his body worn down by whatever illness has taken hold of him, though he won’t admit it.

He’s determined to go back to the mine today, as he has every other day, despite the way his cough rattles in his chest. His hands tremble when he reaches for the bread I’ve set out, but he hides it well, pretending not to notice. It’s always this way—he’s too proud to show weakness, but I know better. I’ve seen the way his body gives out on him at night, how he sinks into sleep as if it’s the only escape he has left.

He coughs again, this time more violently, and for a split second, his eyes meet mine. I try not to show how worried I am, how terrified I am that if he doesn’t slow down, he’ll collapse before I have a chance to stop him. At first, I told him he couldn’t do it, that he wasn’t strong enough to take on everything and keep on going to the mines. 

He denied it and insisted, “I’m fine,” he said, his voice rasping with a cold that’s never quite gone away. “You’ve got your own life to think about.” 

But I don’t have my own life, not anymore. My world revolves around the seam, around him, around making sure we survive each day. I give him another glance worry still in my eyes. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, his voice rough and thick with that terrible cough, but his words are firm, insistent. 

He doesn’t meet my gaze when he speaks, and I know he’s hiding the truth. I want to argue with him, to shout and beg him to stay, but the truth is, I can’t. He’s my father, and he believes that going to the mines is the only way to provide for us. Even now, with his health slipping away, he won’t accept any other way of life. The mines are his life, and no matter how much I wish he would change his mind, I know it’s not that simple.

Reluctantly, I agree, silently praying he’ll stay warm on his long journey to the mines and, maybe—just maybe—make it through the day without worsening his condition. He grumbles as I try to help him put on his jacket, but doesn’t push me away this time. He lets me adjust his collar and smooth down the creases in his sleeves, his shoulders sagging under the weight of decisions he can't bear.

I wonder if he sees how much I’m trying to take on for him, how much I want to shield him from the suffering he refuses to acknowledge. But no matter how hard I try, I know I can’t stop him from going to the mines—or digging his own grave.

Once he’s ready, I walk him to the door, my heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. I want to tell him to stay home, to take care of himself, but I don’t. I want to tell him I can handle the work here, that I can manage, but I know the truth—that we both need him to work.

He’s all I have left, even if he’s slipping away from me. He places a hand on my shoulder before stepping out, his fingers cold against my skin. "You’ll be all right, girl," he mutters, his voice muffled by the weight of his illness. "Just take care of the house, and we’ll get through it." His arms wrap around me in a hug enclosing my body for a moment then pressing a small kiss to the top of my head then gently releasing me.

I close the door behind him, the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly as he disappears into the morning mist. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I just stand there, listening to the silence he leaves behind. I know he won’t be back until late, and even then, he’ll likely be too weak to move by the time he returns. I can already hear the rasp in his breath, the way he tries to hide the pain. But it doesn’t matter. I have to carry on, to keep the house running, to try and make things easier for him, even if he refuses to see how much he’s hurting himself. I have to be strong for him, even if it means sacrificing a little bit of myself in the process.

The first task of the day is always the most overwhelming. I gather the basket of laundry, the fabric stiff from the cold, and begin sorting through it—my fingers numb as I work. The water is icy, but I don’t mind. It’s just another part of the day I have to push through. The soap is almost gone, so I ration it carefully, making sure to scrub harder on the clothes that have the most dirt. I can’t help but think of my mother—how she used to do this with such ease, humming a tune while she worked. 

Once the laundry is done, I move on to sweeping the floors. The dust is always thicker than I remember, creeping in from the seams of the house like it’s a part of the air itself. I sweep methodically, sweeping each corner, each crevice, even though I know the dirt will be back before the sun sets. The broom handles are worn smooth where my hand's grip, the fibres fraying at the edges.

It’s not the kind of work that feels rewarding, but it has to be done. With every stroke, I think of how little time I have left before the next chore begins and before the day slips away. The dust seems endless, just like everything else.

By the time the fire needs tending, the sun is dipping low in the sky. I keep a steady pace, but my body grows weary. The firewood is stacked neatly. Each log is heavy but I push through. I’ve learned to hide the ache in my bones, to act like it doesn’t hurt. It’s what my father would do, and even though he’s not here, I know he’ll need the fire hot when he returns. There’s no room for weakness. So, I light the fire, watch the flames grow, and hope I can hold it all together until he’s home. Finally, I let out a sigh of relief as I finished the last of the chores and collapsed onto the small couch, exhausted.

The moment I remembered, my heart sank. I was supposed to meet Annie at the Hob bar tonight, the one place where we can forget about everything—where the weight of District 12 doesn’t hang over us like a dark could. It’s not like I’d forgotten; it’s just that the chores always take longer than I expect. My father was so insistent on going back to the mines this morning, and I couldn’t make him stay.

I try to shove aside the worry gnawing at me and focus on the task ahead. I take one last look at the house—quiet and still like it’s waiting for my father’s return. Then, I ushered to the bathroom cleaned my hands and pulled my boots on at the front door exiting the house, determined not to be late.

The wind bites at my face as I step outside. The Seams look the same—quiet, desolate, dust swirling in the air like it’s part of the ground. The dirt paths are packed hard, and the mines loom in the distance. I hurry through the narrow streets, weaving between the barely standing houses. Each step feels like I’m moving farther from what I know, but I don’t mind. The Hob is close enough that I can hear faint laughter, clinking mugs, and live music—reminding me of a life outside the hard work, a world I want to belong to, even if just for a few hours.

The noise of the Hob greets me as I step inside—the chatter, the clink of glasses, bursts of laughter filling the air. I shake off the chill from outside scanning the room for Annie among the crowd of miners, traders, peacekeepers, and young women. I finally spot her, her eyes already on me. Without a word, I hurry over and pull her into a tight hug. It's a brief moment of comfort, a reminder that there's something beyond the harshness of the seams. Pulling back, I smile as she gestures to the empty seats next to her. We make our way to the corner table, the worn wood creaking under the weight of our conversation.

As we sit down at the table, the warmth of the fire flickering nearby, I lean in, eager to hear how Annie’s day went. 

“So, how was it today? Any trouble with the bakery?” I ask, my voice softer now, trying to shake off the tension of the day. 

Annie chuckles, clearly used to the chaos. “You wouldn’t believe it,” she begins, “I tripped over and nearly dropped the tray of bread, and I almost lost a whole batch.” She laughs, but I can hear the exhaustion beneath it, the weight of her responsibilities weighing heavily on her small shoulders. Still, she’s got that spark in her eyes, the same warmth she’s always had, and it’s comforting to see that.

I nod sympathetically, but then the conversation turns to me, and I sigh, running a hand over my face. “It’s been... a long day,” I admit, glancing around the room, avoiding her gaze for a moment. "I had to get Dad out the door for the mine again. I tried to stop him, you know, but he won’t listen. He still thinks he can work like he used to." 

Annie’s expression softened, and I could tell she understood the frustration in my words. "I know it’s hard," she says quietly. "But you’re doing the best you can. He’ll come around when he’s ready." 

I nod grateful for her support. We sit in silence for a moment, just being in each other’s presence, two girls who understand the weight of the world, but still find time for moments like this.

The music from the front stage begins to swell, a lively and infectious rhythm that vibrates through the air, making everyone’s feet tap in unison. The band, The Covey, plays with an energy that fills the dimly lit room, the sound of banjos, guitars, and a steady drumbeat reverberating against the walls. Maude Ivory, the new lead singer, has a voice that commands attention, her presence magnetic as she sings with a sharp edge of confidence that both captivates and stirs the crowd. 

Blonde wild wavy locks flowing just past her shoulders, for a moment, I wonder what it must have been like to witness Lucy Gray's legendary performances before she vanished. There’s a hush of reverence when Maude sings, but no one dares to speak of Lucy’s disappearance her legacy already fading into the trees, the whispers still faintly present—how she had been accused of murdering the mayor’s daughter and her ex-boyfriend, Billy Taupe. Some say she’s dead; others swear they saw her vanish into the woods. But now, with Maude at the helm, The Covey was relit.

Annie leans toward me, her voice barely audible over the music as she grins mischievously. "Come on, let's go dance. You need to get out of your head for a bit." She reaches for my hand, tugging me toward the makeshift dance floor. 

I hesitate, but Annie doesn’t give me a chance to refuse. She pulls me into the crowd, laughing as she twirls me around, the infectious energy of the music slowly starting to seep into my bones. I can't help but smile, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly as I follow her lead. It's easy to lose myself in the rhythm, in the carefree joy of the moment. For a brief second, the world outside the Hob fades away, and all that matters is the beat of the music and the warmth of Annie's friendship.

But then, Annie’s gaze shifts and I can feel her attention snap to something—or rather, someone. I follow her gaze, only to freeze as I spot him: the peacekeeper from yesterday. The one I had seen in the alley, lying on the ground with his bruised jaw and the look of someone who had been dealt a heavy blow. His presence now is more subdued, as though the physical pain lingers beneath his uniform. His posture stiff, but there's a softness in his eyes when they meet Annie’s. 

Without a word, Annie steps toward him, her hand outstretched. He hesitates, the conflict clear in his eyes, but when their fingers brush, it’s like an unspoken agreement. His hands are tentative as he places them on her shoulders, their movements slow at first, both of them adjusting to the moment. As the music swells, they begin to dance, lost in the chaos of the crowd.

I watch them, a knot of unease growing in my stomach. I can’t shake the feeling that Annie is somehow tangled in whatever trouble he’d been caught in. Despite the warning in my gut, I let it go, deciding for once to let her enjoy the music, the dance, and the fleeting happiness of the moment.

The music swirls around me, a vibrant wave that fills the air when I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turn, and there stands Archer Brown, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. His usual bravado is gone from yesterday, replaced by a shy hesitance that makes my heart skip a beat. 

"Care to dance?" he asks, his voice quieter than usual, almost as if he's unsure I’d say yes. But the warmth in his gaze and the slight curve of his lips ease the unease in his posture, making the offer all the more genuine.

My heart gives a little leap, and this time, I don’t hesitate I never did when it came to him. I place my hand in his, feeling the pulse of his fingers lightly tremble as they wrap around mine gently. Without another word, he pulls me toward the rhythm of the crowd, and as we fall into sync with the music, a rare sense of peace settles over me. For the first time today the weight of everything lifts, and it's just us moving together, lost in the simple joy of the moment.

As we dance, the world around us blurs, and it's just the two of us, moving in time with the music. Archer’s hands are warm against my back, a gentle anchor, and though he’s just come back from the mines, with the dust and grime still clinging to his skin, none of that matters. 

His presence is comforting, his closeness something I’ve craved. His eyes, a usually grey-blue now a stunning sapphire blue under the lights despite the tiredness in them, hold a quiet intensity as he looks at me, a tenderness that makes my chest tighten. The scent of sweat and earth is faint, but it only grounds me further, reminding me of the life we lead and the bond we share. We sway slowly, our movements in perfect harmony as if we’ve been doing this forever.

Our moment is shattered when Brayden steps into view, a sneer on his face. He stands a little too close, his gaze sharp as he sizes up the space between Archer and me, his eyes cold with jealousy. 

"Well, well, look who’s dancing with the dreamer," Brayden sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. 

He looks at me then at Archer mockingly. "You really think you're going to escape this place? You think someone like you," he points at me, "and you," his finger shifts to Archer, "are going to make it out of District 12? You're nothing but a pair of hopeful fools."

Archer stiffens beside me, his earlier warmth replaced by the tension of Brayden's taunting. I feel my stomach churn, a tight knot of hurt settling in as Brayden’s words sink in. His mocking tone echoes in my mind, I can't help but feel his words cut deeper than they should. 

"You’re a dreamer," Brayden continues, his eyes narrowing, "and dreamers like you don't get to leave you can trust me on that." His words hit hard hung in the air like a challenge. 

I feel Archer’s hand on my back, his silent support grounding me.

Brayden’s voice drips with disdain as he continues, "Your dreams are pathetic. Maybe you should focus more on taking care of your dying father instead of trying to escape, or you and him might as well both swing from a rope the way you’re heading." His words full of venom in leaves a bitter taste in the air stunning me into silence.

Archer’s land leaved my spine, then suddenly he’s lunging forward, grabbing Brayden by the collar shoving him back with enough force to tip a table over. The two crash into the wooden furniture, sending tankards clattering to the floor as Brayden stumbles, his sneer twisting into a snarl as he rights himself. 

"Take it back," Archer growls, his voice low and dangerous, but Brayden just laughs—a cold, mocking sound that only fuels Archer’s anger. They collide again, fists swinging and elbows jabbing, each trying to overpower the other boiling over into chaos.

Hob erupts as if a spark has hit dry kindling. The commotion seems to give everyone an excuse to let loose, people everywhere are shoving, wrestling, voices rising into a cacophony of shouts and jeers. Chairs scrape against the floor, tables overturn, and the once-joyful music is drowned out by the sounds of fists and angry yells. I back away, my heart racing as I try to keep my distance from the brawling crowd, my eyes glued to Archer as he grapples with Brayden, determined like he’s fighting for more than just an insult.

The fight escalates, each blow landing with raw intensity. Brayden manages to land a hard punch to Archer’s nose, and I see blood trickle down, staining his face. Archer doesn’t falter, though. His focus narrows, his moves sharper and more forceful. With a fierce shove, Archer throws Brayden back against the table, forcing him down with an unyielding grip, and for a moment, it’s clear—there’s no question who’s won.

Breathing heavily, Archer straightens, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at Brayden with a cold resolve. He lands a final kick to Brayden’s stomach, leaving him groaning in pain on the floor. Then, as if shaken from a trance, Archer’s gaze lifts, and his eyes meet mine. The intensity in his expression softens, his jaw still clenched, but there’s a flicker of something deeper—relief, concern, maybe even pride he takes a step toward me.

I gaze up at Archer, my heart racing with a mix of alarm and worry. Without a word, he takes my hand, his grip careful but urgent, and we slip through the back exit, leaving the chaotic brawl behind. Once outside, I can’t hold back the questions or the concern that spills out, but he only shakes his head, quiet, as we make our way back to my place.

At home, he sits on the edge of the kitchen chair, his head down, letting me tend to him. I gently dab at the blood trickling from his nose, the bruise already forming. My touch lingers as I clean his knuckles, rough and raw from the fight. Standing between his legs, I feel his steady breath, the anger slowly fading as I work. His hand reaches out to rest against my waist, grounding both of us in the quiet that now fills the room. The fierceness from before is gone, replaced by a vulnerable silence, and I’m struck by how much he’s willing to defend me. 

I pause, cloth still in hand, and meet his gaze, the question slipping out softly, “Why did you do it, Archer?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight behind it fills the room. 

He holds my stare for a moment, then looks away, his jaw tightening before he answers. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the rawness of what just happened, and I wonder if he even knows why he snapped like that.

Archer exhales, glancing down at his bruised knuckles before meeting my eyes again. “Because… I couldn’t stand him talking to you like that,” he murmurs, his voice low but fierce. “The way he belittles your dreams throws your pain back at you… you don’t deserve that.” His fingers graze mine, hesitant, as if afraid of overstepping, but he holds on, grounding himself in the contact. “You’ve been through enough. And you deserve someone who’ll fight for you, not tear you down.” He swallows, his gaze searching my face, almost as if he's bracing himself for what I might think of him now.

I take his hand gently, feeling the roughness of his bruised skin beneath my fingertips. "Archer," I whisper, struck by the rawness in his eyes, the fierceness of his words echoing in my mind. For the first time, I see just how much he cares, the depth of his loyalty laid bare between us in this quiet, tender moment.

I smile softly, my fingers brushing lightly against his cheek as I speak, "I don't mind being called a dreamer. It just means that I still have hope." My voice is barely above a whisper, but the warmth of my words lingers in the space between us. "Thank you, Archer," I add, my touch gentle as I stroke his cheek. Leaning down, I press a light kiss to his forehead, the weight of my gratitude settling between us in the silence in the night.

-Back In The Capitol-

In the dim light of his Capitol office, Coriolanus Snow sat poised, his expression unreadable as a peacekeeper captain stood before him, his face tight with tension as he delivered the report. "Sir, a brawl broke out at the Hob in District 12. Three fatalities, numerous injuries, and significant property damage. It began with a dispute between two young men—over a girl, apparently—and escalated into chaos." Snow listened in silence, his gloved fingers steepled beneath his chin, his piercing gaze giving no hint of emotion.

When the report concluded, he leaned back, his mind already calculating. “Increase restrictions,” he said coldly, his voice like steel. “Expand curfews. Double the presence of Peacekeepers. Make it clear that lawlessness will not be tolerated in my districts. If they can’t govern themselves, we’ll do it for them."

For a fleeting moment, as the the captain left, Snow leaned back in his chair, Snow’s mind flickered to another time, years ago, when he had caused a brawl himself. The dusty air of the Hob, the feel of his fist colliding with Billy Taupe’s jaw as he defended Lucy Gray and the wild chaos that followed. He quickly dismissed the memory, disgust curling in his stomach at the memory of her.

Lucy Gray’s name still brought an unpleasant pang—a reminder of foolish entanglements and the chaos she represented. Shaking the thought away clenching his jaw, he rose from his chair, smoothing his blood-red coat. Such sentimentality had no place in the president he had become. Now, order was paramount, and any rebellion—no matter how small—would be crushed beneath his heel.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Wonders [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: Sometimes is all you need a wonder in a broken world...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? lots of fluff, talks of pregnancy, slight angst, dad!Daryl

The Whisperer Era!

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: I had to write this. 🥹 Hope y'all like this! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ted?" You called out for your son; voice echoing through the little cottage. "Outside, momma!" Your son answered loud enough for you to hear; feet carrying you straight towards him.

The nine-year-old sat on a small log just outside the cottage. He was highly concentrated on making his first own arrow. His tongue poked out of his mouth and touching his upper lip; eyes fixated on the task ahead. Dog laid beside him on the grass. The faithful canine rarely left the boy's side. Not since Daryl told Dog to always protect Teddy. He understood the assignment. Smart animal, without a doubt...

Daryl was not far. Only a few yards away; chopping wood, so that he could always have an eye on his son.

It had gotten noticeably colder. That was the reason why your husband spent more time with hunting and especially chopping wood. Fall was making itself known and preparing you for the winter, which was probably already lurking just around the corner.

"Oh, you almost finished it?" You spoke in a bright voice; crouching down beside your kid to admire his good work. Teddy nodded proudly, "Mhm. Look!" and showed you the arrow. Of course, it was far from perfect and couldn't be used as a weapon. The tip was blunt - on purpose. Daryl didn't want Teddy to hurt himself. After all, Teddy was still young and his skills not entirely developed yet. But for that, the arrow was good. His father taught him well, you thought with a smile, like you did so often.

"Wow, that's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you," you smiled warmly at the boy and ruffled his long chestnut brown locks. Your son smiled up at you as well. "Thanks, momma."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you; watching the scene in front of his eyes - which reminded you why you actually called your son...

"Teddy, could you go and check on the rabbit traps? I have to talk to daddy." He nodded, "Okay." and hopped from the log, before he carefully placed the arrow on it. "Take Dog with you and be careful, yes?" "Sure, momma. Dog, c'mon." Dog lifted his head and immediately jumped to his feet and fallowed his best friend.

You could still feel your husband's eyes on you, but this time you could tell that he was a bit confused.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened up again and made your way over to Daryl, who continued his work, now that you were on your way to him anyway. It had gotten colder, yes - even for Daryl, who had switched to wearing sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts instead of t-shirts and shirts turned to tops with the sleeves ripped off. With a small grunt, he lunged out and precisely split the wood in two with his axe. You would've lied, if you said that this wasn't sexy in some kind of way. But now was not the time to ogle your man... You had something important to discuss...

"Daryl? Can we talk?"

Your husband looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion, but nodded. "Sure." He snuffled and placed the axe aside. "Do I have ta be worried?" You swallowed and looked down; fingers fumbling nervously with your shirt-sleeve. "Honestly? I-I don't know." A deep frown formed on the archer's forehead. Now he was really concerned - and you could see it clearly on his face. After over ten years being a couple, you could read this man like a book.

"Ya don know? Sunshine, wha's that s'pposed ta mean?"

Your eyes darted to Teddy for a short moment; watching him in distance check on the rabbit traps together with Dog. He had grown up so fast... Sure, in a world like this he had to, but you'd have loved to give him a better childhood and youth. Not cruel and full of death and blood. Was this truly something you wanted to bestow on another- "Hey, Y/N..."

Daryl's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; his hands on yours caused you to turn your head to face him again. "Wha's wrong? Talk ta me. Please." You swallowed once again; taking a deep breath. "Daryl, I... I missed two cycles. One happened before, but two..." You could see the gears turning in his head. He blinked; his palms twitching around your hands. "Darlin'... Are you... Are you tryin' to tell me wha' I think yer tryin' to tell me?" You nodded. "Uh.Huh..."

Daryl let go of your hands again and started to pace up and down; fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. You watched him for a few moments; giving him some time to process this - until you couldn't take the silence anymore. "D-Daryl? Say somethin', please..."

Your husband stopped dead in his movements for a moment, before he almost hastily started to search his things together. Crossbow, vest, map.

You frowned; now utterly confused. "Daryl?" He strapped on his crossbow, "'M goin' out; find a pharmacy and get a test." and smiled at you. Truly smiled. The first smile in months - hell, even years after Rick's disappearance, which reached his eyes.

You were slightly surprised and taken aback, but you certainly didn't complain. "A-Alright, sure, but now? Sweetie, it's gettin' dark soon..." Daryl was already making his way over to his bike. "Don care. I gotta know, sunshine. Hell, I wanna know." "Uh, okay," you were still rather flabbergasted, as you followed him. "But be careful, yeah? Be safe." The archer leaned slightly to the right, in order to press a quick, but loving kiss against your lips. "'Course, sunshine."

And off he went.

Your eyes fallowed him as long as you could; crossing your arms over your chest as the chilly breeze hit your body.

"Where's daddy goin'?" Teddy appeared beside you; Dog in tow and three rabbits in his hands. You looked down at your little boy; "Just on a small run. He'll be back soon." adjusting the red bandana around his neck. "Let's go inside, huh? It's getting cold."

Your son nodded and followed you inside the cottage.

It had gotten late. By now it was pitch black outside - and raining. Daryl wasn't back yet and so slowly started your worries to creep in. Therefore, you occupied yourself. Made sure everything was walker safe, took care of the rabbits, fed Dog, had dinner and spent some time with Teddy, before you wanted to send him off to bed. But, of course, like always, the nine-year-old refused to sleep. Not until his father was back. You had no other choice but to let him.

Another hour later, you finally heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle. A relieved sigh left your lips, while your son was already storming out of his tiny room and straight towards the door. He had heard it, too.

A few moments later, Daryl stepped inside; bringing a good portion rain, leaves and wind with him. He quickly shut the door, put down his crossbow and shed himself of his wet poncho.

"Daddy!" Teddy sprinted straight into his dad's arms, who lifted him up and hugged him tight. "Hey, bud. Yer not asleep yet?" Daryl looked at you and you silently told him why; Teddy still clinging to him. Daryl understood, of course and walked with his son without further ado to the boy's room, which was right behind your bedroom. For safety reasons, of course. "Good night, baby." Teddy turned to smile tiredly at you; hand tucked neatly into Daryl's. "Nighty night, momma."

While your husband tucked Teddy in, you hung up the wet poncho to dry. Now that Daryl was back from his little run and the worries about his well-being ceased, there was space again for the previous thoughts and fears to come back again. The missed cycles and the possibility of being pregnant. It wasn't like you didn't want to be, no. Actually, it would be a wonderful surprise, but... So much had changed around you since Teddy. The world had changed around you. Being pregnant wasn't that 'easy' anymore...

You didn't even notice that you were totally lost in thoughts, but when a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, you snapped out of the bubble.

"Teddy asleep?" Daryl nodded. "Mhm." You felt the urge to be close to your husband; hoping that this would take your doubts and fears away. So, you leaned into his half embrace and slung your arms around his torso. Daryl immediately got the hint and wrapped you up in a big, protective bear hug.

"You okay?" You heard him ask then; concern swinging within his voice. "Yeah, 's just... You know..." You felt the archer nod against your head. "Let's find out?" "Let's find out."

Daryl handed you three different brands of pregnancy tests with a shrug. "Didn't know which one's good. Ain't ma specialty. Jus' thought 'm bringing them all." You took them. "It's okay, sweetie. Just gonna take all of 'em to be sure."

Said and done. With shaky hands you did what you had to do, before you returned to your husband, who was pacing again up and down the room like a wounded animal.

You placed all three tests upside-down on the little, wooden dining table; taking a deep breath. "How long do we have ta wait?" "Normally 'bout a few minutes," you answered and turned to face him. He nodded. Once more you stepped up close to your man; needing to ask the question which was occupying you since the first thought of pregnancy crossed your mind - even though he already gave you a nonverbal and kinda verbal answer. "Daryl..." You whispered his name; laying your palms on his chest. "Would you... Would you want this? A-Another baby? Would you be... happy 'bout it?"

You felt how one of his arms encircling your waist; the other hand cupping your cheek. "Darlin', I'd be the happiest man on earth. After all the things which happened..." He paused for a moment; swallowing hard - and you knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. I'd be happy." You smiled softly; rubbing his pecks gently. "Truly?" Daryl nodded, but could definitely see in your eyes how troubled you were. "Yes. 'M not gonna... do the things I did ten years back. I promise." You shook your head. "'S not what I'm worried about, Daryl... I... The world has changed around us. Being pregnant is not that 'easy' anymore..."

The archer chew on his bottom lip; listening to your every word, before he nodded again. "I know whatcha mean, sunshine. 'S nothing easy in this world anymore, but we got each other. We'll make this work, 'cause we both want tis, right?"

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you smiled. "Yes."

Your husband reciprocated your smile and hugged you tightly; reassuring.

"Let's take a look, eh?" He whispered then; slowly letting go of you. You nodded, "Let's take a look." and took Daryl's hand in yours; gently pulling him over to the small dining table. You stared at the three plastic sticks; nervosity still coursing through your veins. "D-Daryl, can you...?" He squeezed your hand and stepped closer to the table. His eyes met yours as he nodded.

You swallowed hard and took a step back; watching how his calloused fingers danced over the tests. Daryl lifted all of them up and slowly turned them in his hands; eyes focused. "A-And?" He didn't answer you; just kept on staring. "Daryl!"

At the call of his name, he finally looked up; one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen him smile stretched over his whole face. "Well... Looks like we're gonna have 'nother baby, sunshine."

You blinked; needing a moment to process his words. "They... They're positive?" Your husband nodded; still smiling broadly. "All three of 'em?" Another nod. "Yeah," Daryl stated and turned them for you to see. And indeed... They were clearly positive.

"Oh my gosh..." You clapped your hand over your mouth; tears immediately blurring your vision. Yet you saw Daryl placing the tests aside again and stepping up to you; his hands finding their way around your waist. He pressed his forehead against yours. "'M happy about this, sunshine. I truly am. This is wonderful," he said in a low voice; holding on to you. "We got this, yeah?" You nodded; happy tears rolling down your cheeks as your hands clasped gently onto the lapels of Daryl's vest. "Yeah."

Both, you and Daryl enjoyed this little moment you had together; relishing in the joy of the news.

You started to giggle; taking Daryl a bit by surprise. "Teddy's gonna be over the moon 'bout this." Your husband agreed. "Hell yeah. He 'n Dog are gonna be the best big brothers." You giggled once again; the cutest scenarios already forming in your mind. "Oh, I'm convinced by that."

Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @wolfsmom1

[inviouswriting]

Endurance

As always minors DNI with my blog it is 18+

This is a smut. Pretty straightforward.

Arjuna x fem!reader

warnings below

Warnings - hetero!sex, fingering, grinding, overstimulation, a little dacryphilia, scratching, biting, love making, squirting, all the good things I can muster for this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arjuna loves the time spent together with you, from the soft moments spent talking, to where he is now. You are straddling his lap with a hand between your legs teasing you thoroughly. His fingers buried inside your soaked folds; enough for you to feel them but not quite deep enough to really stimulate you.

No stimulation was your chore to do, just below his hand is his cock, hard and already dripping with his own need. How long has he kept you dancing on his hand? You lost count how many times he brought you close to that blissful brink only to stop.

“What’s the matter Master? Too much for you? You did want to work on your stamina with me.” You feel his fingers slip free to rub circles on your clit, using your slick to make you feel good. You let soft gasps out, surprise on your face when his thumb and index finger touch the sides of the nub to roll between them. 

You begin to rock your hips in the rhythm he sets, your wide eyes locked on his dark brown ones. A look of pure pride on his face, making you involuntarily move your hips to his hand. Arjuna’s thumb touches the very end and your legs quiver threatening to give out on you. You keep yourself upright when you shift down and feel the tip of his cock lined to your pussy.

Instead of letting you rise up, Arjuna holds your waist in place guiding your hips to roll with the motion he creates. You feel the head of his erection barely brush along the crease of your folds. You look at your archer pleading him to push in, to let you drop down onto the thick shaft. 

“Hold yourself here.” You are instructed as Arjuna uses the hand toying with your clit to spread your folds for himself. His other hand down along his shaft to grind himself along your slit. You bite on your bottom lip at the teasing, feeling relief being pressed along the full of your pussy, the tip brushing your opening where he pushes in just enough for you to feel the stretch. Just enough for him to feel that slick along it making him moan out in anticipation of when he finally will push inside.

“Does this mean, my Master needs me to satisfy her every need? Do you wish for me to abandon our training and completely take care of you?” Your hands finds purchase on his shoulders, your fingers tugging the ribbon attached to his neck to get him to tilt his head back.

“Not abandon our training, but a break from it... please my archer. I need you. I want you.” Your eyes plead him, the grinding between you two, Arjuna pushes you down on his lap to have you feel the entire length of his cock pressed against your folds. You meet the pace with your own grinding desperate to feel stimulation against your aching core. You need him, you really need him to the point your eyes dot with tears of frustration in your pleasure.

Arjuna sees every emotion cross your face, and he couldn’t help the slight sadistic pleasure in watching you squirm on him. Barely getting enough to stimulate your insides, barely getting enough besides the promise of the thick flesh pressed against you as hot as you are wet.

“Endure just a little longer my Master.” Arjuna leans in and you feel him mouth kisses along your neck, kissing along just underneath your ear, and down to your shoulder where he deftly bites down enough to make you yelp. You feel his fingers dig into your back gliding down flesh while yours scratch his leaving thin lines to mar his dark skin. 

Arjuna guides your hips to lift up, and his right hand returns to your folds spreading them apart. He guides his cock to crest the opening, you almost instinctively push your hips down if it weren’t for him preventing you from doing so. You sob in frustration into his shoulder even biting on the flesh when it graces your lips. 

Your archer rubs your clit again using slick to coat his fingers and tease you like earlier. He leaves tender kisses while you bite and suck at his neck, he’ll hide it under the white clothes he possesses. The hickeys you leave behind as your legs buckle, and after he pinches your clit playfully it sends you giving out on your legs. 

You both moan out together as you falter and drop down on his lap, sending Arjuna deep inside you. He bucks his hips against yours, and you are far too caught up in pleasure to care further, you cry into his neck as you bounce on his lap, sliding your legs further apart to allow him deeper. 

Arjuna feels the stings on his neck and shoulder from your constant biting, fangs digging in to where he gently pulls your mouth off his skin, already dark from the mark you leave behind. He stills you, grinding within you, you press your forehead damp from sweat against his, sharing a needful stare with him. You need him, he tilts your head so he can claim your lips in a full kiss.

Your lips part allowing him to deepen the kiss, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist as he guides you to bounce on him, you moan into the kiss feeling him deeper, feeling him throb and twitch inside. 

You are lost to pleasure that you barely feel his nails returning the scratches you made on him leaving lines of his own along your shoulder blades. When you part from the kiss, you toss your head back to moan freely, to ride him properly, You raise on your own only to roll your hips down to his. 

Arjuna is entranced by how blissful your face is, a dark blush on his face seeing you lose yourself like this. His arms keep wrapped around your waist to assist, making you grind down when you drop on him. 

“Feeling good? Tell me? How do I make you feel? What do you feel?” Arjuna presses his face into your neck near an ear, he catches the helix of your ear to tug gently with his teeth, then breathe hot on it. You can feel your eyes burn with tears from the pleasure.

“You make me feel so good, your so hard and it reaches so deep. I feel so good. Please, my Archer. I don’t know how much longer I can last.” You wrap your own arms around him, his chest so you can bury your face into it. Arjuna feels the heat off your face, and has mercy on you. He slips one hand down between you both, to rub your clit while his thrusts are precise into you. 

Your hands snag the ribbon in back to pull it, threading your fingers with it as Arjuna uses his other hand to guide your waist on his, his hips thrusting up harder till he feels your walls flutter around him.

“Go ahead then, cum on me. Look at me as you come undone.” Arjuna gets you to lift your head to look him in his eyes, you feel his fingers tweak and roll your clit. His cock hitting deep into your g-spot, being stimulated from both sides as well as him making you look at him as you cum. 

Arjuna feels you gush on his lap, his fingers soaked in your slick as he moans out thrusting through your orgasm for his own. Feeling you clamp down, he lets out his own melodious moans till he pushes your hips down till he reaches the deepest inside you, and floods you with his cum. 

You keep your eyes locked with his, both of you entranced by each others blissed out face. Arjuna matches you with panting out how tired you both are. How you both needed it together. He’s leaning in and you meet him for another feverish kiss, he’s far from done with you. 

Your tongues dance with each other, Arjuna’s hands slipping up your back again to scratch along the skin. You yelp into his kiss, as you grind down again on him, desperate for more. Arjuna feels this too, you notice he is still hard, and without warning to you, he moves you both off the couch you were sitting on for the floor. 

Your archer is quick to have you on your back, he pins your hands down above your head while he tugs his pants down further. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulder he kisses the ankle in his hand before resuming his earlier pace only much more powerful in his thrusts.

You cry out louder as the angle lets him in deeper, he’s constantly hitting that one spot, your hands flex and try to grip anything till he gives you his hand to hold onto. You arch under him, letting him see a range of emotions.

“That’s it, show me more, show me how much you want me. How much I give you pleasure.” Arjuna shifts his hips up and sees your wide eyed stare again when you feel that one spot hit perfectly everytime, furthering you faster to another orgasm on top of the one you just had, the sensitivity makes your toes curl, he sees this but his attention is drawn down to where his cock slides in and out, seeing the dark skin covered in a mix of your slick and his cum. 

You see him lick his lips, wild stare focused when his hands go down to spread your folds so he has a better view of himself. Where only he has claimed you, you whimper a little at how he slows down deliberately.

“Your clit is really hard, you must be enjoying this. I want to please you with my mouth later. You’ll enjoy my mouth right? Do you want me to do it now?” He lifts his gaze to yours, you just want to feel him inside. His fingers sweeping side to side along your clit feeling it beneath them twitch specially after a small flick just to see you jolt from the treatment.

“Later, please! I just want to feel you inside me for a while.” You manage out as a whisper, voice hoarse from the moans and screams you were doing. Arjuna gives you a coy smile at how much he’s reduced you to a writhing mess underneath him. He takes mercy on you with speeding up his plunges into you till your pleading under your breath for more.

You’re shaking by the time your next orgasm hits you, alot more forceful, a silent cry on your tongue and full arch underneath Arjuna. He buries deep to thrust and grind through your orgasm as it squirts on his lap again. Your walls squeeze and milk his dick of cum till he gracelessly plops on top of you. His head resting on your chest as he breathes hard.

Arjuna feels your fingers card through his hair soothing. Tracing an ear, he closes his eyes as he listens to your thudding heartbeat and winded breathing. He stays like that lost in you and your arms till tiredness catches up to you. You drift off a little to sleep, while your archer brushes the side of your face with a hand.

“Rest for now, my Master. I’ll take care of you. After my own strength returns. Please let me stay like this for a while, you’re too comfortable.” You nod to his request, letting him settle inside you and stay buried deep. His arms snake underneath your back while he focuses his hearing on your heart and breathing again.

“We’ll work on your endurance later too.”

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 3|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 3.3k+

Warnings : A fight scene but it’s just practice XD

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: An unexpected incident brings you closer to Felix, but there’s one person who’s not very excited about this blossoming friendship. 

A/N : Things start getting interesting from here *insert the moon face emoji* Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"A near miss, y/n."  Felix whispers in his deep, raspy voice sending shivers  through your entire body.

You blink awkwardly at him for a few seconds before he gets off of you and offers you his hand to help you stand up.

You hear the Aphrodite girls whispering behind you, giggling.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Your eyes are looking everywhere but at Felix, the heat from your cheeks making your whole face warm.

"It's alright, " he chuckles, "Are you hurt anywhere?" His freckles look even more gorgeous up close, his toothy smiles reminds you of bright skies and beaches and picnics and fresh fruits. And when the warm afternoon sunlight falls on his eyes, his brown orbs turn into a gentler shade of golden. Breathtaking.

"You're beautiful." You blurt out, involuntarily,  loud and clear so everyone hears you. A loud chorus of gasps run throughout the dining hall.

And you decide to run away back to your cabin with the little dignity you had left of yourself.

And there you are, once again thinking back to yesterday's events while polishing your precious arrow heads as you sit on the Zeus cabin's verandah.

You sigh, "It was the Aphrodite effect, right? It has to be!"

You've been pep talking to yourself all morning long, making up excuses for the way you behaved yesterday. You're too embarrassed to face your friends or the other people at camp.

"I mean he is good looking, but why did I say it out loud. Does he have powers? Like that of Hyunjin? Maybe he can charmspeak. Yes! That's probably it!" You mutter to yourself.

(a/n: Charmspeak is a rare type of hypnotic ability that Aphrodite kids possess)

Or perhaps he'd induced a new sense of adoration in you, like how Aphrodite kids usually can. But then again, they cannot actually induce these feelings. They can only manipulate them which means they'd have to exist in the first place.

You put the arrow back into it's case.

"Ugh!" You let out a loud groan, covering your face with your palms.

The image that you'd spent years to portray in front of everyone is all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Now no one's going to respect you as an only child of the Big Three, they're going to see you as a girl who gets smitten easily and not as the headstrong person you always acted like.

All because of that Lee Felix!

(a/n: big three refers to the three major Greek gods namely Poseidon, Zeus and Hades)

You stand up from the floor, not being able to handle the bombardment of thoughts in your mind, and decide that practicing sword fighting is the right thing to now.

So you find yourself making your way from behind the Athena cabin (where you can clearly hear Seungmin and another Athena kid debating over mortal politics) and then through the Jasmine fields that Apollo personally tends to and down the hill to the weapon practice arena.

"Hey, y/n."

Oh no, no no no.

Why is it that when you are trying to avoid a person that exact person is the one who keeps popping up everywhere? Why is it, you tell me, that Lee Felix happens to be in the practice arena just when you arrive there?

The Gods must be having a nice laughter up there, especially your father Zeus.

"H-hey!" You try to reply with fake enthusiasm.

He has his bronze sword in his right hand while he jogs up to you, his messy blonde hair shining like the sun.

"Did you sleep well?"

No, you hadn't.

"Yes, I did." You laugh awkwardly, "Slept wonderfully."

Felix laughs back, eyes hooded with a hint of shyness that hadn't existed till yesterday afternoon.

He tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, "Hey, um about what you said yesterday-"

"Do you wanna duel with me?"

If you cannot escape him, you might as well divert his attention.

He looks at you like you'd just punched him in the face. His smile threatening to disappear any moment.

And that’s when you realise asking him to duel with you might not have been the brightest ideas, and not to mention how you'd called him beautiful in front a hundred other demigods last afternoon.

"I'd love to!" He replies, with an excited voice, "Swords?"

You open your mouth to reply, but only air slips out so you subtly nod. He doesn't have to know you're a nervous mess that's lowkey about to pass out.

You walk up to the armory and grab the first sword that you lay eyes on. Truth be told, a sword wasn't really the best choice of weapon for you. It's always been a bow and arrow for you. Bows make you feel at control, like you know what you're doing and you'd always been good at archery, without even trying to.

"Do you not have a sword of your own?" Felix asks almost as if reading your mind.

"No, I don't. Actually I'm more of an archer." You admit.

"Ah, of course. I remember how you killed that Cetus in a single shot. I must say, I was very impressed."

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment. It's not like people haven't complimented your archery skills before - they have, in fact they do it all the time yet you wonder why is it so much more meaningful to you when coming from Felix. Has your biggest fear finally come true?

You shake your head mentally, no, it cannot be.

"Thanks. You're not very bad with your sword either."

Felix acknowledges your compliment with a smile. He then stands up straight, the sword in his right and bows gently, a silly smile playing at his lips.

"Oh we're following the courtesies?" You whisper to yourself, copying his actions.

The both of you stand facing each other, a silent understanding flowing between the two of you while you take your dueling positions.

You expect him to attack first but he doesn't; instead he watches you with a smirk, as if trying to make you flustered.

(It was working but you'd rather never say that out loud)

So he attacks first. He aims his sword near your abdomen but you quickly jump to defend yourself, blocking his attack with your sword. The metallic clang of your swords ringing throughout the otherwise quiet arena. He stumbles back, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as your sword brushes swiftly past his neck while he's still catching his breath, barely touching him though. 

Of course, hurting the opponent isn’t the aim here. Disarming them is.

"She's not bad with the sword." He thinks to himself, a little proud.

He then retorts back, swinging his sword right in front of your face, missing by merely an inch.

Your heart does a backflip, both out of excitement and fear.

You don't waste a second, gaining back your balance, thrusting your sword in the space between his arm and abdomen. Your sword clash together as you try to push his sword back with yours, yet this time he resists, putting in all his energy to make you loose your grip on the sword.

And it seems to have worked because the next moment, he sees you losing your strength, your face scrunched in concentration as you let out a few grunts. He takes a single step towards you while applying more force on your sword with his, and there goes your sword, falling onto the ground gracefully, like a martyred soldier.

"Do you accept defeat, miss y/n?" Felix teases through laboured breaths and you only have enough energy to roll your eyes at him, hitting his arm in response.

Felix passes you back your sword, as he walks over to the bench and slumps down.

Your body is too tired to worry about Felix bringing up yesterday's incident, so you follow him and sit by his side. Neither of you say anything, your fanning breaths and thumping hearts and the buzzing of insects are the only sounds in the arena. You'd never experienced this kind of peacefulness in the camp before, at least not unless you were by yourself.

When you recover from your momentary exhaustion, you look over at Felix and softly begin, "I was wondering..."

He glances at you with a smile.

Does he ever stop smiling?

"I was wondering...since Hyunjin already told you about the game, would you like to be my partner for the capture the flag game next week? I usually go with Minho but he's a referee this time." You say.

He is taken aback for a second - mostly because he'd never thought someone as cool as you would ask him to be your partner. Team games are very important in camps and its important  to make sure that the teammates do not turn out to be poor players. It somehow makes Felix very happy that you'd have such faith in him despite having known him for only two days.

He nods, "I'd be honored to do that."

Your heart beats furiously as you suck in a deep breath, "It's a deal then."

Gosh y/n, what has gotten into you!

*

You decide to take the longer route back.

Felix left early after finishing the duel so you spent the next hour practicing Archery alone before deciding to head back to your cabin.

Your thoughts are all over the place as it is, but the quietness of the woods help you to sort things out with yourself. You feel rather uncomfortable, experiencing emotions that you'd not felt in a long time, past insecurities and memories fighting their way back from the dungeons you'd locked them up in. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? How Felix comes out of nowhere and just flips everything up?

The sun rays fall on you from the gaps between the tree branches and as you listen to the birds chirp around you, you start to slowly hum to their tune.

"Wow, who hurt you, y/n?" A male voice calls you from behind, the sound of leaves getting crushed under a pair of hooves indicate the approaching entity.

"No one hurt me, Eden."

Eden is still as handsome as ever, you wonder to yourself everytime you return to the camp, with a sturdy upper body and beautiful grey eyes and two strong goat limbs instead of normal human legs, yet he's so much more alluring than any satyr you'd ever seen. (Then again, maybe you're just biased because he’s also your childhood friend) He flashes you a handsome smile and you immediately pray to the gods that he doesn't see you blush.

(a/n: Satyrs, also known as Fauns by Romans, are creatures with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a goat as well as goat horns, and the pointed ears of a goat. )

"What's up." He stands in front of you and kisses you softly on the head, "I had gone out yesterday so I couldn't come see you. Hope you didn't miss me too much."

You hit his chest, "You're so full of yourself, goat-boy." You continue walking back towards your cabin, Eden following right behind.

"Woahh. Using Minho's nicknames now, are we?" He snickers, "One of the kids told me that you had a little hormonal outburst last afternoon?"

An embarrassed sigh leaves you lips. The camp kids really couldn't miss out on one day of gossip now could they?

"I don't wanna talk about it." You mutter as yesterday's events flash into your mind. Felix, his face, his voice and your words. Oh God.

"Hey, no judgment here, okay? If you like the new Aphrodite boy then I support you. Do you want me to play wingman?"

You turn around and smack his chest once again. "I do not like him." Yet.

"Okay, okay. I get it." His tone falls serious, "Anyway  I heard about Poseidon's trident. It scared me, I won't lie. Something as powerful as that trident has never been forged in a millennia. And I can only imagine how powerful one has to be steal it. Are you sure only nine demigods are enough to find it?"

"It has to be, Eden." You say, "We don't have too many options. It's either this or we all drown and die or get killed by a monster. I'd like to choose the former."

Eden nods at your words, patting your head encouragingly.

You are about to speak up again when your eyes fall on a woman sitting on a log of wood just a few meters ahead of you.

"Is that one of the Aphrodite girls?" You whisper to Eden, only for him to shake his head in response.

The woman sits with her back facing you, a beautiful white dress adorning her small skinny frame and her brown hair tied in a tidy floral braid. Either the woman is a daughter of Aphrodite's or a Nymph, you conclude.

Without thinking much, you approach her, "Um, hello? May I know who you are?"

A startled gasp escapes your mouth when the woman turns around and looks at you with a very familiar smile playing at her lips - you'd grown up seeing that smile on Hyunjin and very recently on Felix. It's the very same smile, a Xerox copy of it.

"Aphrodite?" You mutter and she nods in response.

"Hello, y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?"

*

"So you were out with y/n? Dueling?" Changbin asks for the umpteenth time this morning, his usually playful eyes now focused seriously on Felix's body language.

"Yes, Changbin," Felix groans, lying flat on his fluffy bed, "Can you stop making a big deal out of it?"

Chan chuckles at the conversation, his eyes though focused on the book in front of him but his ears are on his two best friends' conversation. Chan knew Changbin wasn't the kind to trust people easily, especially Zeus' children so it's not surprising of him to be suspicious about you but what does come as a surprise to Chan is how oddly giggly Felix has been since last afternoon. After that awkward encounter with you. Could it be that Felix..?

"Do you like Zeus' daughter?" Changbin asks even before Chan can finish his line of  thought.

Felix's eyes widen, but the tips of his ears are bright red, "Dude I just met her. Can you not act like a love guru out of the blue?"

"Hey, you're the love expert here. Literally. So, I should be expecting a better answer from you, no?"

"No, I do not like her. Okay?" Felix groans, "But she did ask me to be her partner for the game next week and I'm telling you beforehand Seo Changbin, do not say or assume anything that would make her uncomfortable. "

The warning comes off as rather cute to Chan since he’s always seen the Aphrodite kid as his little brother while Changbin finds his words a tad bit alarming. A Zeus kid is not to be trusted this easily.

"Fine." Changbin mutters, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line, "But just be careful because  I - "

"Don't trust the Children of Zeus easily, yeah we know. Come on, Bin. Let him have some fun and make new friends. You should do it, too. We're not on our own anymore." Chan pipes in to save Felix this time and Felix secretly sends a thankful wink to him in return.

"Okay, okay." Changbin gives in.

The door to Felix's room creaks ever so slightly and the three of them turn their heads in anticipation of who it might be.

"Hey. Sorry to disturb you guys but we're being called for dinner." Hyunjin says, still getting used to having three new demigods around in the camp.

Chan closes his book, "Oh, come on, Hyunjin. You're not disturbing us. Come on in."

Felix gets up to greet his half brother with a fist bump and when he stands beside Hyunjin, the two older guys find it hilarious how terribly small he looks. Almost like Hyunjin were his father.

Felix almost as if reads their minds and narrows their eyes at them, "Dinner is ready guys. Can we move?"

"Shortie." Hyunjn whispers incoherently and makes a run towards the door.

"Hey, come back here you piece of -" Felix dashes right after him.

Changbin and Chan chuckle at their tactics, a foreign feeling of calmness settling between them. "This feels like home, Chan. We're finally home." Changbin admits, almost emotionally.

"Yes, Bin." Chan adds, "And I hope we never have to leave again."

*

"Aphrodite said what now?"

You sigh, running your index finger mindlessly along the lines of the wooden dinner table.

"She wants us to take the new demigods with us to find Poseidon's trident. Especially Felix." You look at your friends, "And she asked me to specifically visit the island of Sicily when we go on the quest. I asked her why but she said she doesn't know it herself."

Hyunjin grunts, almost irritated, "Y/n, I don't know how much you can trust my mother. She's known to cause drama for her own entertainment. "

Well, you do agree with what Hyunjin says but you cannot deny that Aphrodite didn't seem like she was purposely creating drama this time.

"Listen, y/n, you have to go to The island of Sicily. It will lead you to the trident, trust me." She whispers as if she is afraid of someone overhearing your conversation, "Take Felix with you. You'll need him. He'll need you."

You shudder at the memory of her unusually spooky tone.

"What do you think, dad?" Jisung turns to Apollo who has ever so naturally claimed a spot at your usual dinner table tonight, "Do you think we should let new demigods on a quest?"

"I don't think Aphrodite is playing this time. We should listen to her." He taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought, "We need as many people as we can get."

"Well, yeah. That makes sense." Minho says and you nod, "Yeah, Eden can talk to the three boys. He's always been good at all that."

The lack of protests from your friends indicate their approval and after talking about the quest for a few more minutes, Apollo leaves your table.

"So," Jisung chimes in as soon as his father is out of sight, "Our Y/n has been dueling with Lee Felix?"

You let out an exasperated growl, "Oh God, Jisung! It was just today!"

Jisung snickers and sticks out his tongue, rendering your words useless. Minho raises an eyebrow at your banter while the other boys giggle, "Eden tells me you are already smitten."

Eden! God, that Eden, you mentally vow to punch that smirk off of Eden's face the next time you see him. Why does he keep pushing ridiculous ideas into other people's head!

"I'm not smitten -"

"Who are you talking about?"

Your blood runs dry.

Please tell me Felix didn't just overhear this one conversation which includes me having a crush on him.

"Hey, Lix." Hyunjin laughs, "Took you three long enough to get here  I went to your room like an hour ago."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, guilty, "Changbin spilled water on my favorite sweatshirt. "

A short guy - probably Changbin - slaps Felix's back. "Ouch!"

"Liar!" Felix rolls his eyes, turning to speak with you, "Anyway, y/n, I'm assuming you're the only to not have met my brothers yet."

"Yeah, i think so." You reply with a small smile.

Felix pats the back of the two boys on his right and left respectively. "Chan, Changbin, meet y/n, she's Zeus' daughter and y/n, meet Chan, he's Poseidon's son and Changbin - Ares' son."

Oh wow that is a new combination.

The guy introduced as Chan has a kind smile and messy brown hair while the Changbin dude has jet black hair and very intimidating eyes. He looks up and down your form, as if checking whether you were worth being Felix's friend - vibe checking, if you may.

"Hi, I'm y/n."

With the introductions done and dinner served, your group of old and new friends enjoy this peaceful evening together. The loud laughs and sassy remarks and friendly banters make you feel somewhat calm, but a part of you knows this isn't for long.

It’s like the calm before the storm.

"So, are we meeting for practice tomorrow too?" Felix whispers into your ears when he finds the others too indulged in conversation.

Your heart picks up its pace but you manage to nod with pink cheeks, "Yes. Same time as today."

A few seats away from you, Changbin overhears your conversation and decides that he doesn't really like you.

*

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[wavesmp3]

the sea is yours to take

pairing: wen junhui x fem!reader genre: royalty au, high fantasy, romance, slow burn   warnings: mentions of death, violence (but it’s usually friendly) wc: 36k (it’s so long, i know, i’m sorry)

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far away from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts.   a/n: this is so long, and the beginning is kind of slow but like, i think it’d be pretty dope if you were to stick it out just sayin

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Seungkwan had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Seungkwan asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Seungkwan had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Seungkwan had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Seungkwan would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Hansol and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Hansol.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Mark.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Hansol’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Hansol.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Hansol now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Hansol. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Seungkwan-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JUN—

Jun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jun was not one for traveling. To Jun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jun understands even less why his father and Captain Wonwoo put up with it. 

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party. 

"Lord Jun," Wonwoo says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this." 

And of course, Wonwoo is right. Jun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jun has yet to see the latter tale, Wonwoo is right; Jun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River. 

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river. 

"Yes," Wonwoo hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season." 

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well." 

"It does." Wonwoo says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Wonwoo must sense Jun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."  

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver. 

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Jeonghan that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Soonyoung’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Soonyoung and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Seokmin, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Seokmin’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Seokmin is Prince Seungkwan who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Seungkwan meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Seungkwan the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish." 

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers. 

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Seokmin's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court." 

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return." 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect. 

"Father, you can't-" Seungkwan blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom." 

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’. 

“You!” Seungkwan shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Seokmin cuts Seungkwan off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Seungkwan is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Seokmin's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Soonyoung's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today."  The name Jun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jun’s name before. Jun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago. 

 “But—” Seungkwan begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Mark to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Seungkwan, for Hansol, for Seokmin, for Soonyoung. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Seokmin. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food. 

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Seokmin?" 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Seokmin's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Seokmin. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this." 

He smiles again, “Thank you."  He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Seokmin pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Seokmin please, I don't need your pity." 

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Wonwoo." You vaguely knew of Captain Wonwoo. He was a Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son. 

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Seokmin asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely." 

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Seokmin radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Seokmin. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Seokmin.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?" 

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits." 

"Were you close to him?" 

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. Fortitude spends it immersed in her memories.

Finally, Seokmin speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner. 

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Seungkwan to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real. 

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Seungkwan,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Seungkwan means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Seungkwan, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Seokmin was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Seungkwan had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each  other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered. 

“Indeed, he does.” 

“Then…” Seungkwan hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Seungkwan was simple and delightful, of a time when Seungkwan was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Seungkwan reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Seokmin. In a way, that makes Seungkwan so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Seungkwan.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.” 

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” 

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice.  “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.” 

Seungkwan laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Soonyoung then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Soonyoung reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Soonyoung long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Seungkwan hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Seungkwan waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.” 

“Seungkwan,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Seungkwan telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Seungkwan persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Seungkwan, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Seungkwan, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Seungkwan.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Seungkwan, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Hansol. “Oh, Hansol,” you say in shock. 

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile. 

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Seokmin told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire. 

“Seokmin sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Seokmin always talks plenty,” Hansol hums, amused but calm.

Hansol, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Hansol turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Hansol was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Hansol contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Hansol, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Hansol was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother. 

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Hansol crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Seungkwan's inability to control himself and his emotions." 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort. 

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too." 

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Seungkwan and you?" 

You nod although there is no 'Seungkwan and you'. There is only Seungkwan's foolishness and your reason. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew." 

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was." 

"It appears even time can't change that." Hansol jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

"Have you heard any word from Soonyoung?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Hansol's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames. 

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.” 

“And…?” Hansol asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.” 

Hansol sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now." 

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.”  You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Soonyoung's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Soonyoung to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Soonyoung to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Jeonghan, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Hansol shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Soonyoung decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Hansol sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Hansol's words. Soonyoung is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Soonyoung. Soonyoung trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Soonyoung grew, so did his skill. By the time Soonyoung had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Soonyoung as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Soonyoung that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Soonyoung is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Soonyoung is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache." 

Hansol sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

 “I hate to ask this—”

 “Then don’t.” 

 “—but why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Hansol, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Hansol. I  struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Soonyoung that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Soonyoung before he took off.

Hansol stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Hansol quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Soonyoung? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Hansol emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Hansol, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You  immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Hansol mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room. 

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jun and Wonwoo unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human. 

Jun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jun can think to describe you. 

The King had sent a message to Jun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jun’s and Captain Wonwoo’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jun and Wonwoo were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Wonwoo, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King. 

But now, as Jun and Wonwoo walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jun, and Captain Wonwoo." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Soonyoung's throne is empty. Jun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Soonyoung is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes. 

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in. 

Jun, Wonwoo, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jun had imagined. 

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo affirms, glancing at Jun as if expecting him to say something, but Jun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Wonwoo says to cover Jun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.” 

“Yes.” You respond simply. 

“If I may, where is Prince Soonyoung? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Wonwoo.” Then you pause. Jun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Soonyoung had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.” 

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Wonwoo says in an even but skeptical tone. 

"Yes, Prince Soonyoung is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Soonyoung's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jun suspects that Prince Soonyoung has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jun suspects something different. Prince Soonyoung must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in. 

Wonwoo clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Mark, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jun and Wonwoo stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jun barely hears it.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo with steady eyes. “Lord Mark was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.  

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jun and Wonwoo can even comprehend what you just said.

 ***

Jun waits for you and Wonwoo in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought. 

Jun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained. 

Jun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Mark’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jun wonders if Lord Mark was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands. 

But then when Jun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.  

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jun’s attention your presence in the stables. 

 Jun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.” 

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.” 

Jun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.  

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear. 

“Lord Jun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.” 

Jun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy. 

Jun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder. 

“We’re ready when you are Jun,” Wonwoo says, a laugh dancing under his words. 

Jun groans. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Wonwoo releases Jun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod. 

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jun questions, hurt that Wonwoo seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?” 

Wonwoo’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.” 

Jun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Wonwoo chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jun is silent, taking his time to understand what Wonwoo means. He returns his attention to his horse. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Wonwoo isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation. 

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Seungkwan. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?” 

Wonwoo hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Seungkwan,” Wonwoo clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jun nods, listening half-heartedly to Wonwoo for Jun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles. 

Eventually, Wonwoo wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Wonwoo can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jun, Captain Wonwoo, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south. 

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Wonwoo and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge. 

The Zalazar River is now a green color. Wonwoo comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites. 

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly. 

“What?” You breathe, and Jun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.   

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.” 

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and forest green river a little less tensely. 

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jun, Wonwoo, and you. Jun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.  

You’re aware of the way Jun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Lord Jun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Wonwoo, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.” 

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo nearly begging for their acceptance. 

“I have a question,” Wonwoo begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.” 

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving. 

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Wonwoo exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets. 

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jun notices. 

“Are they as untraceable as they say?” 

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.” 

“You’re very lucky.” Wonwoo tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long. 

“I have a question.” Lord Jun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Wonwoo looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice. 

“Jun—“ Wonwoo starts. 

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust. 

“What are your powers, Gift?” 

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make. 

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.” 

Lord Jun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?” 

“No.” 

“So you can die?” 

“Yes.” 

“By old age?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” 

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further. 

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much. 

--LORD JUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected. 

You request to be taken straight to your quarters. 

“You’re acting strange.” Wonwoo mutters, watching Jun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jun and Wonwoo at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend. 

“How so?” Jun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl. 

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate a snack earlier.” 

“It’s not just that Jun.” Wonwoo adds, and Jun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Wonwoo sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.” 

Jun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Wonwoo. Something about her unsettles me.” 

Wonwoo takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.” 

Jun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.” 

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.” 

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Wonwoo.” 

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?” 

Jun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Wonwoo shakes his head in frustration. “Jun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.” 

And with that Wonwoo leaves from the dining room. Jun finishes the rest of his dinner alone. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch. 

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.” 

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Wonwoo put him up to it. 

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.” 

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path. 

“Lord Jun.” 

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence. 

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet. 

“Wonwoo gave me a very thorough tour this morning.” 

Jun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Wonwoo is not the type to spare any details.” 

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile. 

“Lord Jun,” you address softly, “did Wonwoo put you up to this?” 

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it. 

“Thank you, Lord Jun.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.” 

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.” 

Jun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?” 

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.” 

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly. 

You find yourself to be smiling too. 

“Come on,” Jun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.” 

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you. 

Jun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed. 

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Seokmin was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing. 

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?” 

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.” 

Jun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.” 

“Oh Jun, we have already bargained and made peace.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.” 

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease. 

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious. 

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.” 

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.” 

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Seokmin that night. 

Dear Seokmin, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude 

—LORD JUN—

Jun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest. 

“Wonwoo,” Jun calls out. Wonwoo tends to keep Jun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Wonwoo fast asleep. Jun covers Wonwoo with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done. 

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known. 

“Have you already finished your work Jun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering. 

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal. 

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.” 

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm. 

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.” 

Jun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Wonwoo. 

“How do they work?” Jun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?” 

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jun to stand up as well. 

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.” 

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.” 

Jun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock. 

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.” 

Jun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales. 

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.” 

And Jun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jun runs to you immediately.  

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard. 

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain. 

“So,” Jun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug. 

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?” 

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.” 

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Seungkwan misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun. -Seokmin 

—LORD JUN—

“The service was long today.” Jun states exiting the temple with Wonwoo and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars. 

“I didn’t think so.” Wonwoo says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?” 

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still. 

 “Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving. 

Jun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jun and Wonwoo can stop you. 

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble. 

The sanctuary Jun, Wonwoo, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jun sick to the stomach. 

But that’s not where Jun finds you. Instead, Jun and Wonwoo find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries. 

Jun and Wonwoo decide to wait for you outside. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Wonwoo were present today. 

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Hansol and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.” 

Wonwoo nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Wonwoo’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?” 

“I don’t—“ 

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Wonwoo.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?” 

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.” 

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Wonwoo go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.  

It’s also the day that Wonwoo reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Wonwoo’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Wonwoo laughs loudly and explains that Jun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Wonwoo’s job.

—LORD JUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Wonwoo to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jun wave goodbye to Wonwoo.

Jun scoffs, side eyeing Wonwoo’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.” 

You laugh, and Jun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”   

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jun if anything more is needed. Jun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jun notices how you notice. 

And when the servant girl leaves, Jun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach. 

“Mina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.” 

Jun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words. 

“Smile less.” 

Jun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.” 

Jun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind. 

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.” 

“You could braid it.” Jun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?” 

Jun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin. 

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard. 

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” 

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jun’s offer is genuine or not. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.” 

Jun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it. 

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind. 

“My sister, Jennie, would make me braid her hair sometimes.” 

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

“She’s illegitime, technically. My father had her with another woman before he married my mother.” 

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jun finishes the braid off. 

“She married an islander, Seungcheol, and lives there with him.” Jun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Jennie and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently. 

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.” 

And Jun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jun, but today Jun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Soonyoung and his impossible journey, to Hansol and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Mark. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks. 

So when Mina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Mina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction. 

When you ask why Mina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Mina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Mina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little. 

“Mina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jun?” 

Mina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I intend to marry him or anything.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Mina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.” 

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jun is.” 

An embarrassed smile emerges on Mina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.” 

You erupt in laughter. 

***

If you knew Mina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly. 

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow. 

To your dismay, Jun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jun himself, your wish is granted. 

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it. 

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile. 

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?” 

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?” 

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to. 

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.” 

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jun’s face. “What was that?” 

A giggling Jun cowers behind the target and runs. 

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Soonyoung being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Mark’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories.  It appears that the fog is driving you mad. 

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Seokmin you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Seungkwan didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside their mother and your dearest friend, and when she passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Seungkwan could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Seungkwan, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Seokmin and Soonyoung. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Seungkwan loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.   

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room. 

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks. 

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jun’s estate by Jun, Wonwoo, and Mina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself. 

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind. 

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jun. 

“Jun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?” 

He shakes his head. “Wonwoo calls this spot the insomniac's bed.” 

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly. 

You wait for Jun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.” 

“Yes, but what about this cliff?” 

Jun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.” 

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.” 

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further. 

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years. 

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Jeonghan died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured. 

You study Jun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Soonyoung,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.” 

And with the way Jun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him. 

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.” 

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?” 

“Depends.” 

Jun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jun.” 

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways. 

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.” 

“So then why don’t you?” 

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old. 

“Good night, Jun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.” 

*** 

Dear Seokmin, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Soonyoung too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Seungkwan that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it. 

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.” 

“Oh,” Jun says softly. 

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.” 

“Six?” Jun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.” 

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.” 

You squint at him. 

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?” 

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.” 

It was Jun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.” 

Jun starts pulling his shoes off. 

“Well,” Jun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jun nods, and 

you run. 

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it. 

Jun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you. 

When you finally reach the top, Jun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist. 

Jun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jun back. Jennie used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jun had convinced himself he was. Jun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jun would spend years staring at the blue water. 

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you. 

You meet his eyes, and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries. 

Jun hesitates. 

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?” 

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling. 

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Chan, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.” 

Jun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude. 

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold. 

“Forgive me if I intruded.” 

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.” 

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?” 

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.” 

Jun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jun wants to know. 

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do. 

You tell Jun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Chan and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself. 

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.  

“Where’d they take you?” 

You halt at Jun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.” 

Jun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have. 

“Did you get to see your family again?” 

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.” 

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jun to even hear. 

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Chan.” You tell Jun with a smile. “By the time we became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. The Queen went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Chan and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “the Queen was killed.”

Jun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Jeonghan, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Chan much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue. 

“Is that why you switched sides?” 

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Chan had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Jeonghan struck me a deal. Jeonghan said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Chan.”

You stop to breathe. Jun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jun thinks it’s wrong, what King Jeonghan did. Jun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jun’s thinking. 

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Jeonghan wasn’t much older than me. Jeonghan watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Jeonghan was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 12. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Chan take his dying breath.” 

Through the memories you share with him, Jun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war. 

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.” 

Jun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know? 

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jun can’t trust himself to look at you. 

You’re quiet. 

“I regret it all.” 

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret. 

The small part of Jun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him. 

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 12 when this all happened. 

“Fortitude,” Jun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.” 

Jun can see something in you come apart. Jun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes. 

And when Jun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current. 

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?” 

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.” 

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Jeonghan didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

You sigh, but in the next moment you’re nearly laughing. Jun helplessly wonders how you’re able to change your mood so quickly, and then he wonders how you’re able to let go of things so easily. 

“You know Jun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.” You say with the likeness of a laugh. 

Jun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind. 

“Chan?” 

Jun nods, and you look up to the sky. 

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jun tastes the salt on his lips. 

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner. 

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Mina brings out plates with your meals. 

“I am, thank you Jun.” You take a bite of your food. 

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?” 

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”  

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after. 

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.   

“Jun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.” 

Jun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“That’s alright Jun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.” 

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jun watches you go. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Wonwoo finally returns to Jun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Mina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you. 

Later that day, you and Wonwoo ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery. 

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Wonwoo’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh. 

“He tends to get very…” Wonwoo trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.” 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I heard you were close to Jun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jun I worry about.” 

“And who’s here to worry about you?” 

Wonwoo sighs. “Thank you for the concern.” 

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Wonwoo spends the entire day in his room and Jun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too. 

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Seokmin. 

“Come in.” 

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.” 

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo.” 

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Mina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Mina. “Lord Jun requested that you attend the service as well.” 

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted. 

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Wonwoo. 

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you” 

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”     

Jun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Wonwoo appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Mina, head to the temple in a solemn silence. 

The temple is a sea of red. Wonwoo whispers to you that Jun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service. 

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord. 

You inhale. 

You watch as Jun and Wonwoo throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Mina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone. 

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break. 

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss. 

Jun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so. 

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Seungkwan had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Soonyoung and Seokmin were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears. 

You had burned a fire for your old friend, and you had burned a fire Jeonghan. But you never even lit a match for Chan; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father. 

Jun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the princes’ mother, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Jeonghan, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Chan who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Mark and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn. 

You forget Jun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Soonyoung, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Soonyoung. 

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Wonwoo came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Wonwoo’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jun’s absence greatly. 

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud. 

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down.  

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Soonyoung received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment. 

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries. 

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Wonwoo’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun the truth; the truth you owe them. 

“Did Soonyoung respond to your Risal?” Jun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no. 

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jun and Wonwoo share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Soonyoung was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run. 

You recall to Jun and Wonwoo the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Soonyoung came to you sad and betrayed and alone. 

“This isn’t right,” Soonyoung muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Soonyoung had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Seokmin joined these meetings. Then Seungkwan did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Soonyoung sat with you. Seokmin was on a northern campaign, and Seungkwan travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless. 

“He can’t do this,” Soonyoung had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.” 

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down. 

“Prince Soonyoung, what are you suggesting?” 

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Soonyoung,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea. 

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Soonyoung slammed his hand down on the table. 

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Soonyoung’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?” 

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Soonyoung’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father. 

“We kept it a secret, Soonyoung and I,” you continue. Jun and Wonwoo listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Hansol. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Soonyoung so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Soonyoung and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Soonyoung and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad. 

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Soonyoung. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Soonyoung got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Soonyoung came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King. 

It’s Wonwoo who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Soonyoung?” 

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.” 

Jun chokes on his water. 

You continue on with the story, unbothered. 

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Soonyoung go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Mark with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Mark was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Mark was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—” 

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt. 

Jun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength. 

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold. 

“So that’s why Soonyoung was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Wonwoo and Jun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget. 

It’s Wonwoo who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan the truth too.” 

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.” 

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Hansol, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jun asks, you know. 

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.” 

Jun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Jeonghan and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones. 

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Soonyoung to them? 

The dinner ends abruptly when Wonwoo stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jun do the same soon after. 

You write to Seokmin that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Soonyoung, the experiments, Lord Mark, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Seokmin to extend this information to Seungkwan as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers. 

The response from Seokmin comes a few days later. 

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Mark. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Seungkwan and I, we already knew. Soonyoung told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Seokmin 

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Seungkwan around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Soonyoung. And setting silly traps for Seokmin. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Soonyoung told them the truth. And you’re glad he did. 

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JUN—

Jun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair.  Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not. 

“It must be hard,” you say as Jun sections your hair into three parts, “for Wonwoo to spend so much time away from his family.” 

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck. 

“Yes, it must.” 

The next day Jun tells Wonwoo to go back home. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wonwoo laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely. 

“Go home, Wonwoo.” Jun insists. “Paid leave.” 

Wonwoo packs up his things that very night. 

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Seokmin, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Soonyoung. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Wonwoo left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Wonwoo everything. Jun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof. 

He hates the quiet. 

“Lord Jun! Come quick!” Mina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.” 

Jun runs. 

He runs past Mina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs. 

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jun’s heart stops. 

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jun and Mina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.” 

“Lady Gift!” Mina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“ 

Jun puts a hand on Mina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop. 

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?” 

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond. 

Jun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.” 

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Mina stiffen beside him. 

“Lord Jun, what are you doing?” Mina asks frantically. 

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean. 

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong. 

“Jun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not. 

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear. 

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.” 

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed. 

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.” 

You smirk. Then disappear from Jun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump. 

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall. 

Jun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jun watches. Amazed. 

It’s when Mina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water. 

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath. 

And dives. 

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up. 

But Jun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Mina pulls you both out of the water. And Jun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jun falls into the sand beside you. 

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Mina says scurrying away in the sand. 

Jun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted. 

“It looked like you were dying,” Jun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?” 

“I don’t want to die, Jun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then what?” 

“I wanted to feel mortal.” 

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.” 

Jun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.” 

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms. 

—LORD JUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry. 

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not. 

Jun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish. 

Jun extends everything he knows to you. 

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time. 

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean. 

*** 

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Wonwoo asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.” 

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.” 

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display. 

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.” 

Jun smiles a bit. “How so?” 

You hesitate, looking at Jun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.” 

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jun feels suddenly warm. 

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.” 

“Is it?” 

Jun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jun. 

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?” 

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Jeonghan died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…” 

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end. 

This time the tapping comes from Jun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?” 

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Jeonghan died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face. 

“I remember the fire that was lit for Jeonghan, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met the princes’ mother.”

You pause, and in the silence Jun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat. 

“I’m scared, Jun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Wonwoo, Hansol, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan; hell even Mina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn. 

“Oh how happy Wonwoo will be to hear all this.” 

Jun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.” 

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away. 

“And Jun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.” 

Jun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning. 

***

Jun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive. 

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other. 

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Jun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Hansol?” Jun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jun are sitting in the courtyard. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap. 

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?” 

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly. 

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want. 

You read and then reread the letter from Seungkwan. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Seungkwan, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Seungkwan never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Seungkwan; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Seungkwan climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince. 

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Seungkwan is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.  

“Is something wrong?” Jun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Seungkwan’s heart in your bags.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back. 

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Seungkwan then?” The question sounds hopeful. 

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Seungkwan is like a child to me.” 

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?” 

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Seungkwan since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Wonwoo by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Seungkwan still acts like a child.” Jun smiles at that. 

“Oddly enough,” Jun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.” 

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Seungkwan’s apology. Something in your mind clicks. 

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Seungkwan. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Seungkwan can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.” 

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Seungkwan, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.” 

You repeat it in your mind. 

He doesn’t want to lose you either. 

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Seungkwan’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Seungkwan feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Seungkwan must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself. 

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept. 

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms. 

***

That night she sends a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Seungkwan.

—LORD JUN—

Jun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Seungkwan. 

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Jennie?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.” 

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Actually,” Jun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?” 

***

The boat ride to the island Jennie lives on is pleasant. Jun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Jennie, and you listen to Jun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Jennie’s children and then some more for yourselves. 

By late afternoon they reach Jennie and her husband Seungcheol’s house. Jun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters. 

“Hold on,” Jun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.” 

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible. 

The sea. 

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jun feels at home despite being hours away from it. 

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more. 

“Uncle Jun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug. 

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.” 

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand. 

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jun clutches his stomach in laughter. 

“Jun!” Jennie yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!” 

“You’re torturing them Jennie!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.” 

Jennie scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jun into a hug.

Jun leads Jennie to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Jennie resposds that she’s napping and that Seungcheol’s watching her. 

You stand up to greet Jennie. 

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.” 

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.” 

“Well, in that case,” Jennie coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.” 

***

Jennie, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Jennie begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jun and Seungcheol are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Seungcheol puts up the cards while Jun watches you and Jennie converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably. 

“Jun, you must stay here longer.” Seungcheol insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.” 

Jun hesitates. “I don’t know. Wonwoo is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.” 

“Oh please,” Jennie dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Wonwoo sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.” 

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jun. I had no idea.” Jun dismisses the apology.                     

Seungcheol and Jennie share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Jennie scoffs, turning dramatically to you. 

“Would you mind humouring Seungcheol with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Wonwoo and you went. Jun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing. 

“I’m no joke.” Seungcheol defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.” 

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Seungcheol takes it eagerly. 

Jun likes this. How you tease Seungcheol. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence. 

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Seungcheol yelps in shock, and Jennie hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jun, and the two of you share a look of your own. 

And through the silent conversation, Jun knows. Wonwoo would have to wait a bit longer for your return. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Wonwoo telling him that you and Jun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jun I said happy birthday. You do. 

Later that day, Jennie requests you and Jun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night. 

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand. 

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once. 

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jun. Jun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb. 

But then Jun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue. 

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN— The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Jennie and Seungcheol seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jun happy as well. 

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Jennie’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat. 

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Here.” Jun hands you the extra coat. 

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?” 

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.” 

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time. 

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.” 

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jun not telling you was an insult. Jun positions himself closer. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible. 

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Jennie and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jun comes to realize that what you tell him  now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to. 

He stares at you, frozen. And Jun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Chan, Jeonghan, your parents, the princes’ mother. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured. 

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Wonwoo, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.” 

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips. 

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do. 

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jun’s restless heart. 

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”   

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jun’s coat. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further. 

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Jennie announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Jennie who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed. 

“How about this?” Jennie offers holding up a red dress. 

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” 

“For Jun.” Jennie says it blandly. 

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jun?” You echo. 

“Nevermind then,” Jennie sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Jennie leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness. 

The bodice of the dress Jennie brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways. 

Jennie was right. Jun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?” 

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Jennie lent it to me for the night.” 

“Ah,” Jun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t? 

The dinner is a feast like Jennie had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jun follow you out. 

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up. 

“Please, Jun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back. 

“No. Tell me what’s happened.” 

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.” 

You push your door open, and Jun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near. 

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Jennie’s red dress in your hands. 

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound. 

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.” 

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of. 

Jun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jun’s voice. 

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.” 

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love. 

You fling your hand out of Jun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jun. 

And suddenly, Jun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently. 

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder. 

“Leave me be, Jun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jun shuts the door quietly. 

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well. 

*** 

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head. 

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JUN—

Jun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops. 

Dear Jun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either.  But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please.  -Jun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Jeonghan. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind. 

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him. 

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body. 

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jun again, really look at Jun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do. 

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything. 

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now. 

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jun’s face.  

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jun. 

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips. 

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?” 

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.” 

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home. 

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Wonwoo. He nods, turning to you. 

“And how about you, what do you miss?” 

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water. 

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jun counts the seconds.  One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four.  Five.  (He kisses you) Six. 

You return to the estate finally, greeting Wonwoo drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jun return from Jennie and Seungcheol’s home that you and Wonwoo fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jun. And when you told Wonwoo at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well. 

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Wonwoo attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Wonwoo is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Wonwoo would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Wonwoo gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Wonwoo in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Wonwoo for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jun to watch. 

—LORD JUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jun. Jun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Wonwoo catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves. 

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jun must do work in his office, Wonwoo and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Seokmin and Seungkwan and another unanswered one to Soonyoung. 

You and Wonwoo continue training without Jun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Wonwoo, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight. 

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Mina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy. 

The happiest you look, however, is when Mina asks you to teach her something. You make Mina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jun mentions this, you deny it telling Jun it’s only because you taught Hansol and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Mina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jun has never been so happy. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Seungkwan. 

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Seokmin and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Seokmin fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Soonyoung soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Soonyoung as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Hansol and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Hansol a punch for me. -Seungkwan 

You think a visit from Hansol might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Wonwoo and Jun. 

***

You’re in the kitchen with Mina eating fruit when Hansol arrives. 

“He’s here.” Jun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods. 

So you grab his hand and run. 

The first thing you do when you see Hansol is punch him, as hard as Seungkwan would. 

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?” 

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Seungkwan.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.” 

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Hansol, Jun, and Wonwoo have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Hansol some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

Hansol sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.” 

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.” 

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Hansol says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Seungkwan told me you two made peace.” 

“We did.” You hum with a smile. 

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Hansol tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, Jennie, Seungcheol, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Hansol the specifics. 

Hansol listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jun?” 

Your mouth drops, and you look at Hansol shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.” 

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.” 

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Hansol happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Hansol.” 

He stops in his tracks. “Really?” 

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Wonwoo and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response. 

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.” 

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Hansol jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight. 

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Hansol laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, the guards, Hansol’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Hansol, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Hansol is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Hansol will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Wonwoo, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything. 

You circle each other for a second, and when Hansol does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Hansol is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Hansol is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Hansol the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back. 

“Surrender.” You pant. 

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.” 

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause. 

—LORD JUN— “Does that hurt?” Jun asks you, poking at one of the bruises on your stomach that’s already turning purple and blue. You don’t even wince. 

“Not anymore.” You say nonchalantly pulling the end of your shirt back down. It was only minutes ago that you and Hansol were pouncing on each other in the courtyard like wildcats. Hansol was so exhausted after the fight he probably would have passed out there on the grass if Wonwoo hadn’t dragged him back to his room to rest up. You, on the other hand, look as if you’ve only gone on an easy run. Jun walked you to your room expecting you to want to rest, but instead you’re laying on the bed with him looking rather awake. 

“Are you even tired?” He asks. 

You shrug. “About as tired as I am after our swims.”

Jun chuckles. “I suppose another power you wield is the inability to tire then.” 

You hum, pouting your lips. “Does it make you upset when I’m fighting?” 

“No. Should it?” 

“No, it’s just that” you hesitate, “there have been certain men who would take offense when I fought in the past. They found it improper.” Jun snorts, dismissing the notion entirely. You look amused at his response. 

He throws an arm over you. “Actually, it was nice seeing you struggle to win something for once.” 

You roll your eyes. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I did.” Jun says gravely. “And I’m afraid he won’t wake up after that fight.” 

You scoff. “He’ll be fine. Plus,” your voice turns serious, “I actually did struggle to win that fight.” 

Jun looks at you unamused. “Is that a joke?” 

You lift your head from the bed. “What?”  

“The fight didn’t even last five minutes. Hansol barely got in five good punches.” 

“Exactly,” you defend, “that’s the most I’ve struggled in a fight since the Holy Wars.” 

Jun drops his head back on the bed. “You’re unbelievable. I’m taking a nap now, goodnight.” 

You roll him off the bed. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Hansol all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Mark’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.  

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Soonyoung the night before he left?” 

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Soonyoung that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh. 

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember. 

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?” 

“Soonyoung told Seokmin and Seungkwan before he left. Seungkwan told me. We all had questions for you. But Seokmin was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Seungkwan weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?” 

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Soonyoung that night?”

You look at Jun. Then Wonwoo. Then Hansol; he nods. All three watch you carefully. 

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin” 

Jun and Wonwoo look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel. 

Hansol starts laughing at the madness of it all. 

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Jeonghan, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Soonyoung.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jun, Hansol, and Wonwoo, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Soonyoung. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Soonyoung find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jun, Wonwoo, and Hansol have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings. 

“What is that?” 

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.” 

“No, no. It’s a drawing.” 

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.” 

The three boys share a look. 

“What do you mean you think?” 

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?” 

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Soonyoung.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Soonyoung will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky. 

Hansol shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jun. Weaker than after your fight with Hansol. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory. 

You fall to your knees, Jun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Wonwoo who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JUN—

Jun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Mina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jun. But last night was nothing like what Jun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jun tries to think of something else. 

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jun asks if you’re feeling any better. 

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed. 

Jun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Soonyoung?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away. 

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Soonyoung, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently. 

Dear Fortitude,  Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near.  -Soonyoung

“What’s it say?” Jun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself. 

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.” 

“Jun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds. 

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.” 

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?” 

“I hate to say it, but you—“ 

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.” 

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Soonyoung’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Hansol’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Soonyoung castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea. 

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jun. 

But you pack your bags instead, send Soonyoung a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jun and Wonwoo that night. You and Hansol would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JUN—

Jun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Hansol’s squadron and needing to catch up to you. 

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jun realize he’s crying. Hansol leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy. 

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.” 

“All the more reason not to, Jun.” 

He squeezes his arms around you. 

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely. 

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—” 

“Tell me something to make me hate you.” 

“—I can’t.” 

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.” 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other. 

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.” 

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over. 

“I’ll come back, Jun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.” 

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i present to you my heart and soul, if you actually read this whole thing wow good for you this fic is way too long for it’s own good but i ended up getting attatched to too many of the plotlines to take anything more out. fun fact, this was actually an original work that I took some stuff out of and converted into a fic. there’s definitely more to come in this story but idk if i’ll ever get around to actually writing it. I just want to share that I’ve been sitting on this wip/world for literally a year now, and if anyone remembers that random soonyoung drabble that i posted last year it’s the same world as this okay bye

[slowlydrowningme]

But My Makeup’s Ruined Pt 2

Anon asked: Do you think you could do an angst that’s dick grayson x fem reader where he cheats on the reader with kori? I love your sm au so much ❤️❤️❤️ I typically like longer stuff but write as much as you want if you even wanna write it. No pressure 🥰🥰

Anon 2 asked: 3:31am and I just read your 'But My Makeup...' fanfic and IT's JUST. It aches. Somehow, when I'm writing DickxReader, which I love, I'm still kind hshsj I can't he'd be like this 4 Kory. So, this fic was really great to me. I was thinking if you could make a part 2? Like Kory goes to talk to the reader because she didn't wanna hurt anyone. Then maybe *timeskip* reader gets to be friends w Dick again. My dad cheated on my mom and they're not together, but still friends. So could be "happy" ending

Rating: T (mild swearing)

Word Count: 4531 

Warnings: Mentions of cheating but that’s about it

Pairing: Dick x Fem!reader (though they have separated)

Notes: Here is the second part that another anon had asked me for.  This has a confrontation with Kori and the a time jump where the reader and Dick have their first conversation since the morning after that night.

Tags: @this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms

Part One

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You expect the numb feeling that overtakes you the days following the night you found Dick and Kori together.  It wasn’t a surprise that you just sort of shut off your emotions in order to preserve your sanity as much as possible.  There was too much to get through and you just needed to steel yourself and get through it. 

The day after your stay at Jason’s safehouse, you found yourself at Dick’s apartment packing up the things that had accumulated there over the time you two had been together.  Clothes, bathroom items, and just other knickknacks.  You made sure to leave each and every picture of the two of you but took all the ones of you without him in them.  Photos with his brothers and your common friends that you knew you would be upset about not having down the road.  

The last item you placed in the box, despite knowing Dick would probably want it, was a painting that Damian had given the pair of you last Christmas.  It wasn’t of anything in particular, an abstract swirl of colors and emotions that had spoken to you the instant you had unwrapped the plain brown paper tied with the gold bow.

Dick could go fuck himself if he thought you would leave that behind.

With one last glance around the room, you had pushed down the overwhelming sadness and dropped your key onto the counter top before walking out of a place you had considered home for so long.

The following day you had called Jason to come grab the box of things you had gathered so he could bring them over to Dick for you and he had done so without a single complaint. You had thanked him by promising to meet him for lunch later in the week, because it would have just been too much right then and there.

So that was how you found yourself opening the door to reveal what you had thought was Jason, but instead was someone you had absolute no desire to see.  Ever.

“Kori,” you said flatly, clenching your teeth to keep the bubbling anger and hurt from exploding out of you in the form of word vomit.

“I know I am one of the last people you ever want to see, but I was hoping we might be able to talk?”

“You know I’d love to, but I have plans and you’re dangerously close to ruining my good mood.” The words have a bite to them, but Kori still smiles a small smile.  

“I ran into Jason downstairs and he said to call him when you want him to come back.”  Of course he did.  That bastard.  

Taking a moment to think about whether or not you want her in your home, you consider your options. Having this talk at home means you’re well hidden from prying eyes seeing your possible breakdown.  But having it outside means that you’re forced to be civil because you know that there’s always someone lurking who knows your face from your relationship with Dick or your job.

With the options weighed, you step aside and let her come into you home and close the door behind her. Remaining near the door, you don’t know what the social protocol is for having the woman your ex cheated on you with in your home.

“Can I get you something to drink?”  You ask, mostly to fill the silence.  You’re surprised to hear her soft laughter.

“You’re just as kind as they all made you out to be.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.  Even Dick.”  You wince at his name on her lips and move past her to go to the kitchen to get yourself a drink, mostly just to have something to do with your hands.

“Got me far, didn’t it?” Your voice is bitter as you pour the water into the kettle and set it on the stove to boil.  “Tea?”

“Sure.”

“Look Kori, I’m not sure what your goal was in coming here.  I don’t really have anything to say to you and I definitely have nothing to say to him.”

“I actually have something to say, if you’d be willing to hear it.”  Looking at her with narrowed eyes, you find yourself considering your options yet again.

“Fine.”  You know you don’t owe her anything but you also know she didn’t know about you when Dick first kissed her.  And you have a creeping suspicion she didn’t know two of the other three times they had hooked up.  The term made you want to roll your eyes because it sounds so casual and you know it was anything but for both of them.

Leaning against the counter near the stove, you watch Kori purse her lips and look down at the counter of the island that separates you two.  You know she’s trying to figure out where to start, probably didn’t think you would actually listen to what she had to say.  But she had been right, you were too kind for your own good most days.

“I know Dick,” you flinch at his name again and she sends an apologetic look your way.  “I know he told you that I didn’t know about you when he first kissed me.”  You nod your agreement with her statement and she nods back.  “But I don’t think he realized I didn’t know about you until the night you found us.”

“How did you find out?” Morbid curiosity and all that.

“Roy, actually.”  Well that made sense.  You knew she, Roy, and Jason had formed their own team for a while and had gotten fairly close.  And you had met Roy through Jason because the red-headed archer hadn’t been too fond of Dick in those days.  “I think he thought I had known all along when he had mentioned you, trying to make me feel guilty.  But when I just ended up confused, he explained.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He would have many examples of why you are very wrong,” she laughed and you can’t help but give a small smile in return.  “But you are correct.  He is a good man.  And he is quite fond of you.  As they all are.”

You’re not sure what to say to that but you’re saved the need to say anything when the pot whistles on the stovetop and you’re given a distraction.  You quickly prepare the tea and don’t bother asking Kori what she prefers because this is your home and she unknowingly destroyed a two and a half year relationship.  Setting a cup in front of her on the counter, you lean back against the counter behind you again and hold your own in both hands.

“Y/N…I never would have done anything with him if I had known.  And the night you saw us, I had told him that.  I had told him mere moments before you came in that what he was doing was wrong and I couldn’t be part of it.”

“But you still kissed him again.”

“I did.”

Taking a sip of the mint tea that had been a gift from Alfred a few months prior, you wish you knew what to say to that.  You wished your apparent kindness came with a manual for moments like these.  You had been manipulated in the past and it had caused you to develop a thicker skin, but this wasn’t one of those moments.  This was uncharted territory.

“Dick,” you forced out, clenching your jaw at his name and trying hard to keep the anger and hurt at bay as best you can, “called you his drug.”

“He is mine as well.”

“I only know second hand what happened between you when you broke up, but I know that there are just certain people in our lives that are just supposed to be ours.”  Kori hummed in agreement as she took a sip of her own tea. “He is yours.  He was never mine.  I realize that.  I can’t be angry with that fact.”

“But you’re hurt, and you should be.  I’m not here to excuse your emotions or my actions that led you to this point.  I just wanted you to know that my part in this was never intentionally against you.”

“We could have been good friends, I think.”

“Maybe one day we still can be.  If your kindness is what everyone says it is, I’m sure there is hope for us.  And, perhaps, for you and him.”

“Maybe.  But not any time soon.”  Setting your cup down next to you on the counter, you cross your arms and shrug a shoulder.  “What he did was wrong and I am angry that he couldn’t at least respect me enough to be honest with me before he was forced to be.”

“Secrets are a way of life.”

“Not with me.  It shouldn’t have been that way between us.”

“That’s true, but hindsight and all that,” she waved a hand in the air and your eyes rolled, knowing she had a point.  “Look, that’s all I wanted to say.  I’m going to leave now and hope that one day you’ll forgive my part in this.  I also hope that you’ll forgive him one day too.”

Looking away from Kori to the windows to your left, you hear the clink of her cup being set on the counter and soon enough the sound of the door shutting behind her.  You probably should have told her you had already forgiven the both of them because you had learned long ago that holding onto that kind of anger was disastrous to your own mental health, but it was too late for that.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, thinking about the conversation that you had just had, before your phone sounded from it’s place inside your pocket.  Tugging it out, you glanced at Jason’s name lighting up your screen before thumbing open the message.

You good?  Kori said she left a while ago.  Need to reschedule?  The thoughtfulness made you smile as you typed out your reply and hit send.

No, I could use a good burger and maybe a beer to two to wash it down.  Meet me there in 10?

I’m downstairs waiting for you already.

You’re the best.  I’m coming down now.

And the moment you stepped out of your building into the muggy Gotham air, you felt something like peace rushing over you.  You weren’t okay by a long shot, but for the first time since the infamous night you felt like you would be.

 (Three Years Later)

 “Thank you, Jefferson,” you say softly as you slide out of the black car with the driver’s help. You look up at the familiar Manor with trepidation, smoothing down the front of your black gown.

“Shall I remain close, ma’am?”

“Hmm?”  You looked over at him, his words registering slowly at first.  Smiling in thanks for the man who had worked for you for the last two years, you squeezed his upper arm and moved to head up the steps that would take you up to the door. “Go have dinner with your family. Plan the usual time.”  You heard him chuckle as you ascended the stairs.

Before you could reach the door to ring the bell, you saw it opening and revealing a familiar stern, but warm face.  Using the hand that was not holding the hem of your gown up so you wouldn’t trip, you reached forward and took Alfred’s hand in your own in greeting.

“Miss Y/N, it has been too long.”  And it had. Ever since your split with Dick, you couldn’t bring yourself to come by the Manor.  If any of the family had wanted to see you, they knew they had to meet you elsewhere.  It had just been too hard to handle those memories.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Alfred.  Thank you for your care packages.  You always send the best teas,” you say softly with a squeeze of his hand as you step into the house.  The decorations for the evenings event were just tasteful as always and you felt a swell of pride for the reason behind the gathering.

“Y/N!  You made it!”  Was all the warning you got before you were being lifted in the air by a pair of surprisingly strong arms.

“Of course I did, Tim,” you chuckled.  You returned the hug as he set you back down on your feet before leaning back to look him over.  “You look good.  How are things?”  You felt a slight pang of guilt of not having kept as close of contact with him as you had with Jason, but even the communication with Jason had mostly been you responding instead of initiating.  He had just refused to let you slip away from their world and you had allowed the last link to remain.

Today, you was glad for it.

“Good.  Things are good.  It’s so good to see you.  Damian is going to be thrilled.  Jay wouldn’t say whether or not you would actually make it so I didn’t tell him I saw you had gotten on a flight.”  Giving him an unimpressed look, he at least tried to look guilty for keeping tabs on you electronically.  It wasn’t like you hadn’t figured they all would.

“Speaking of Jason, is he in his room?”

“Yeah, should be fighting with his bowtie right about now,” he chuckled, turning to walk with you up to the next level and down the hall where the bedrooms were located.  “It’s good that you came.  We all understood why you went away, but we’ve definitely missed you.  He’s missed you.”  You know Tim is talking about Dick and not Jason in that moment, but you only give him a smile.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”  His responding smile was almost blinding, and you find yourself strangely emotional at the sight of it.  Reaching forward, you give him another hug before grabbing the door knob of Jason’s room he used when staying at the Manor.

“Don’t you fuckers know when to knock?”  You could hear him call out before you could see him and it made you laugh.

“I thought your door was always open to me?”  You see the moment he freezes in surprise, hands struggling with the bowtie just as Tim said he would be.

“Y/N,” he says your name in a rush as he moves forward to wrap you up in a hug.  “What time did you get in?  Are you staying in a hotel?  Have you seen anyone else yet?”

“Slow down cowboy,” you chuckle, pulling back and immediately get to work on the bowtie.  “I got in a few hours ago and yes, I’m booked close by.  Jefferson and I both are, but he’s over seeing his family.  Alfred greeted me at the door as always and Tim walked me up here.”

“Demon is going to be excited.  I bet Replacement is teasing him about a secret as we speak.”

“I hope not.  He managed to keep it quiet that he knew I was coming, I’m sure he can be nice a little bit longer.”

“Tim knew?”

“He saw I booked a flight.” Jason chuckled.

“Of course he did.” Finishing up the tie, you smoothed your hands down the lapels of his black jacket and smiled up at him.  “You good?”

You hum in response and take a step back, sucking in a deep breath to let out slowly.

“I’m good.”  He watches you for a moment before giving a nod of satisfaction and holding out his arm for you.

“Guess we should go see about finding the man of the hour.”

“I can’t believe he’s a man. He used to be so little.”

“Wait until you see how tall he’s gotten.  Poor Dick and Tim.”  You know he’s watching your response to the use of Dick’s name, but you only laugh in response as the two of you exit his room and head back down to the main ballroom.

A handful of people have gathered, more could be heard in the other room where the main bar was located, and your eyes scanned the room for familiar faces.  You could see a few friends but not the one in particular you’re looking for.

“Jason.”  You glance over your shoulder and find Bruce Wayne standing there with a champagne glass in hand, a surprised look filtering over his features when he sees it’s you who is on Jason’s arm.  “Y/N, what a pleasant surprise.”  It’s warm and the smile he gives you sets something at ease inside of you. The two of you had had plenty of contact over the years since your split with Dick, but this was the first time you had seen him as Bruce Wayne since before the breakup.

“Bruce, it’s good to see you,” you tell him honestly.  He gives you a nod, as much as an acknowledgement of his agreement as you’re going to get.

“Damian will be down shortly, he will be happy to see you.”

“So I keep getting told,” you laugh softly.  The way everyone made it sound you had an incredibly close relationship with the newly 18-year old.  But truth was, you weren’t any closer to him than with Tim or even Cass.  Jason was really the only one of the Wayne family that you had remained particularly close with.

“The family has missed your presence.  It was an…adjustment.”  You’re not sure what to say to that, so you just smile in response.  You knew he understood why you had stayed away. There had been more than one moment of truth between the two of you in those late night visits or calls when you had helped Batman and his crew.

“Master Wayne, the mayor has arrived,” Alfred’s voice interrupted their conversation, drawing Bruce’s attention from you.  You looked up at Jason but found his gaze directed at something past Bruce’s shoulder and it causes you to frown because of his serious expression.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.  I’ll be sure to find you later.  There was something…else I had been wanting to discuss with you,” Bruce’s voice drew back your attention and you gave him a frown, but accepting nod.  

Not just a vacation visit like you had planned it to be, apparently.

“We’ll speak later then.”

You watched him follow Alfred and then it became abundantly clear what had caught Jason’s attention.  Dick stood about thirty feet away, glass in hand and laughing at something someone was saying.  You could see his profile as he stood there in conversation with a man who looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t be completely certain who it was. Not that it mattered because you only had eyes for Dick.  The man who had crushed you.  The man who you hadn’t seen since the morning after that fateful night.

“Y/N!”

The sound of an excited exclamation of your name pulled your attention from Dick just as it brought Dick’s attention to you.  But before you could react, Damian was in your field of vision and you found yourself floored at the sight of him.  Pictures from Jason only did so much, but the sight of him was a surprise.  You couldn’t believe how tall he had gotten.

“Damian,” you smile brightly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He easily returns the embrace and you can’t help but smile at the thought of how he used to scoff at physical affection from other people. Even from Dick, and his oldest brother was undoubtedly his favorite person.

“I am so happy you’re here!” He squeezes you a moment before placing his hands on your upper arms and stepping back, gaze sweeping over you before landing back on your face.

“I would never miss a day like today.”  His smile grows even brighter and you can see the happiness basically rippling off him in waves.  “I can’t believe you’re a high school graduate now.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.”  His reply is simple, but you know he is more pleased than he lets on.  “How have you been?  Jason gives us updates at random and never with much detail.  How do you find New York City?”

“It is different and yet very similar to Gotham.”  He nods his agreement and drops one of his hands from your arm, keeping the other there as if he’s worried you’ll vanish before his eyes.  “But I do have some news that not even Jason is aware of yet.” Damian raises his brows and you look over to Jason to find him standing there with a single eyebrow raised, almost annoyed he didn’t already know something.

“Well?”

“I have accepted a position back here in Gotham.  I will return to New York in two days as planned, but I will be back in a week.”

“For good?”  Jason’s words are oddly hopeful.

“For good.”

“You’re returning to Gotham?”  Both Jason and Damian tense and you snap your eyes to the source of the all too familiar voice.  Dick is standing just a few steps away, looking surprised and somewhat contrite for having gotten himself caught eavesdropping.

“I am.”

“Dickhead…” Jason said in an almost growl-like voice and immediately Damian has released the hold on your arm to stand in front of you, effectively blocking your from Dick. Dick holds up the hand that isn’t holding his glass and takes a step back.

“Guys, stop.  Jesus.”  You refrain from facepalming right then and there in embarrassment at their actions. Like Dick would attack her at his little brother’s graduation party.  It was utterly ridiculous.  The two men looked at her in question and you sigh.  

“I just wanted to say hello.”  Glancing back to Dick, you give him a small smile.

“Could you two give us a minute?”  Both Jason and Damian opened their mouths to protest, but the single raised brow from you shut them both up.

“I should mingle anyway. Do not leave without saying goodbye, Y/N.”  You send Damian a wide smile and nod.  Jason simply squeezes your hand before heading toward the bar.  A moment of silence passes before Dick moves a little closer and gestures to the doors leading out to the path that would take you both to the gardens. You follow without a single word and snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter before you two step outside.

“How are you?”  You break the silence between the two of you, genuinely curious at his current state.  You watch as he considers his answer carefully, hoping he doesn’t give you some fake answer that he prepared for the masses.

“It varies from day to day, I guess,” he answers, and you feel something loosen in your chest at the honest response.  “You?”

“Better in the recent months.  I have…missed home,” you admit.  If he was willing to be honest then you can return the sentiment.  He hummed in response and took a sip of his champagne and let the silence fall between you two again.  It’s not until you’ve entered the paths of flowers that he stops to look at you.

“Kori and I were married last year.”

“I know.”  You’re response pulls a questioning look over his face and you can’t help but chuckle.  “Jason.”

“Of course.  I forgot that you and he have…remained friends?” He says it like a question and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yes.  Friends.”  

“Sorry, I don’t want to assume anything in regards to you.  Or him.”

“I understand.  But Jason has been a very good friend to me since well before our split.”  He nodded and you watch him closely.  “I didn’t see Kori in there tonight?”

“No, she is…at work.” And she knows he means she’s off on some kind of mission.  “Are you happy, Y/N?”  You look away from him and consider your answer.  You know you could tell him how you cried and almost gave into the homesickness a week after you had left Gotham for New York City.  Or you could tell him about the idiot you dated just months ago who thought he could manipulate you into being his little housewife and not the independent woman you are.  Or you could tell him how hard it had been to be in a city you knew no one in and find your place in that world.

“I am.  I hope you are as well.  I was glad to hear you and Kori finally got married.”  You won’t say that you had drank enough to blackout the night of their wedding, but that had definitely been a thing.

“Were you?”  You look at him and nod, letting him see the honesty in your gaze.  He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in what looked like amazement.  “You are too good for this world, Y/N.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Listen, Dick…”  You look back toward the Manor where you can hear the sounds of the party in full swing before looking back at him and facing him fully.  “I want to be around your family again.  Jason has helped a lot and the meetings with…”  You let him fill in the blanks, knowing he was well aware of Batman’s appearances in your life.  “But I miss what had been part of my life for so long before things went south between us.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of that.  I never wanted that.  My mistakes were not meant to take you from their lives too.  I’m sorry they did.”

“What’s done is done. But I just wanted you to know that I forgave you a long time ago and if you hear that I’m around or see me with one of them, you don’t have to stay away.”  You’re not surprised by the surprise on his face.  But you’re amused as it definitely takes him a few moments to get it together enough to respond.

“We can be…friends then?”

“We can start trying to be.”

“I’d really like that. Kori had mentioned the possibility after that talk you two had had.”

“Yes, well,” you shrug a shoulder and give him a smile.

“Hey you two!  We’re about to do speeches and we all know you, Dickhead, have something sappy planned.”  You both turn to see Jason standing further down the path, not at all hiding the fact that he’s curious about your conversation.

“Thanks, Y/N.  We’ll chat more later?”

“Yeah, later.”  You watch him head back inside, exchanging a look with Jason as he passed him.

“You good?”  Turning your eyes to look at Jason, you don’t bother to stop the wide smile from filtering over your features.

“Better than.  Now come on, I want to see just how embarrassing you all are going to be to that poor boy.”  Jason lets out an amused laugh before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you back inside.