#at home she had to take care of violet whilst being turned into a weapon and being horrifically mistreated she was also parenting violet

[lockedtowers]

if u ever wanna think abt smthn funny just remember that its basically canon to s/yf/y alice that they do not know what pizza is in wo/nderland (h/atter almost makes it sound like he thinks its a s/ex thing lol) and cassie knows even less than h/atter does

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: prince!seokmin x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 12,690 ⚬ warnings: none. ⚬ genre: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, teasing, some slowburn romance, superfluff toward the end.

✧✎ synopsis: the time has come for prince seokmin to meet his arranged marriage, which forces you to confront a strange predicament: if you truly hate the prince, then why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt this badly?

✧✎ a/n: yeah... i’ve wanted to write some prince!lsm since his excalibur pictures. evidently, i am very late! i hope u enjoy nonetheless :-)

Hiking up the long, heavy layers of your dress, pale and coloured like lilacs, you retrieved a small carving knife that had been clandestinely strapped against your outer thigh. Buried a few feet away from you in the grass was a smooth, palm-sized piece of beech wood, which you quickly picked up before walking back to the bench. You sat down horizontally, stretching out your legs and taking up as much space as possible whilst you started carving down the edges of the beech wood, flicking away the occasional shavings.

It was only to kill time as you waited for the royal gates to open. That night, the King and Queen were hosting an annual, celebratory dinner to commemorate the newest anointment of pages, otherwise known as the fresh grouping of students who would serve the knights and learn about their duties, specifically how they protected and served the kingdom. It was a true honour: you had been requested to cook in the royal kitchen, and the younger apprentice your mother hired at the bakery, Chan, was going with you.

He was notably excited and couldn’t sit down, instead pacing in front of the tall, wooden gateway into the castle grounds. This would be his first time seeing the royal family’s abode from the inside, and if he was particularly lucky, he might get to meet the Prince. To him it was a big deal, but you couldn’t care less. At even just thinking about the Prince, you started pressing your knife harder against the beech wood, gritting your teeth as a larger piece curled off and fell into your lap. Lee Seokmin, he was the Prince. 

You absolutely hated him.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing, child?”

The sunlight that glinted against your face was interrupted by your mother, who had her hands sternly placed on her hips, glaring down at you in sheer disapproval.

“Give me that.” She quipped whilst scowling at the blade. “This instant.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up properly on the bench and dusted the cream-coloured shavings off your lap. She never let you do anything, and when you were in close proximity to the castle, she became even more rigid and hawk-eyed. You gave her the knife which she hastily folded up, watching her pocket it inside a pouch on the front of her white dress. 

You still held onto the beech wood.

“There is no reason to bring a weapon into the King and Queen’s home. I should not have to reprimand you like this once more. Behave in the way I have taught you.”

Suddenly, there was a loud command you heard echo from the turret, and the tall, wooden gateway into the castle grounds began pulling apart. You heard the clink belonging to the iron chains and the cracks in the elderly oak. Chan stumbled backward, leaving sufficient room for the gate to open. Unlike the apprentice whose eyes were glimmering in awe, you had to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth and put on your fakest, most convincing expression of content. It was going to be the longest night of your life – even longer if you had to eat supper with the Prince.

Just before you were guided into the royal family’s abode by the caterers, you swiftly pulled up the side of your dress and tucked the piece of beech wood between the garter belt at your thigh. Then, you rushed to stand beside Chan.

“Excited, are you?” You asked him.

He tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind his ear, practically bouncing in his place. “It is my biggest wish to sit down with the Prince! To cook for him is already a sure pleasure.”

You couldn’t help but huff at the apprentice’s enthusiasm. He should consider himself lucky he didn’t know Seokmin the way you did.

Time passed quickly, and it was almost two hours into preparing the onslaught of fruit, meat, vegetables, and grain required to make the celebratory supper. The royal kitchen was much larger than the small, quaint space you operated back at the bakery, where everything was tightly shoved together and you knew each crevice like the back of your hand. You were working up a sweat as you kneaded a large, thickening dough. Once you were satisfied, you floured a wooden roller and began flattening it out, using a tin can to cut perfect circles.

You told Chan to put the tray in the clay furnace and keep an eye on the rising bread.

“Where are you going?” He immediately inquired upon watching you untie your apron, hanging the splattered fabric on a hook jutting from the stone wall.

“It’s quite hot. I’m stepping outside for a few minutes. No more than that.”

The young boy nodded and proceeded to follow your orders, keeping a watchful eye on the dough that would soon become crispy, warm pieces of bread. You slipped into the long corridor that led outside. There was still a noticeable heat in the evening air, though it was much less overwhelming compared to the kitchen, packed with fires and bodies and steam. A soft, glowing pink tinted the sky, and you were surprised at how little clouds there were.

Just to be certain, you felt underneath your dress for the piece of beech wood, relieved to brush it against your skin.

A distant sound captured your attention, somewhat like the noise of steel slashing against steel. Walking along the side of pillaring cobblestone, the noise grew louder, accompanied by indiscernible, muffled shouting. You stepped around the small wildflowers sprouting from the grass, keeping as silent as possible upon approaching the corner that ended at an iron gate.

Sparing a cautious glance between the bars, you looked into a large courtyard covered with sand. There were two young men sparring against each other, competitive but lighthearted in their expressions and the nature of how they operated their swords.

It was none other than the Prince himself, Seokmin, against his lifelong accomplice, Jeonghan.

You plucked your head back and inhaled delicately. The unique airiness of Jeonghan’s laughter reverberated into the evening, summer air, joining hymn with the sharp steel. You peaked through the iron bars again. Seokmin was still buried in his hefty silver armor, a layer of chainmail hanging from his shoulders. Expertly, he caught the underside of Jeonghan’s sword with his own and twisted the weapon from his friend’s hands, which dropped against the sand with a soft thud. Jeonghan stumbled backward, panting heavily.

“For God’s sake, I surrender!” He laughed, dusting off his shiny armor.

Seokmin slid his sword back into the sheath at his waist, smiling triumphantly. 

“You squander each attempt at defeating me. Have you just lost another bet with my blacksmith?”

Jeonghan bent down to pick up his sword and huffed, “it could be so.”

“You are inclined to become a beggar,” the Prince teased, “thankfully, tonight’s feast shall leave you with plentiful portions to take to the streets.”

There was a small, stone fountain bubbling beneath an overhang in the courtyard. Seokmin allowed a generous cup of water to form in his hands before splashing it along his face, the droplets streaming down his amber skin that had been caked with dust. Once he cleared away the grit, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the long, black curls. 

He smirked at Jeonghan and uttered something to him you couldn’t decipher as they removed their chainmail. You studied him intently, feeling the warmth in your chest welt into disdain and anger.

“What are you doing all the way down there?!”

You jumped, sensing your flesh bristle. Turning around, you saw Chan standing at the doorway with his brow furrowed, probably wondering why you never returned to the kitchen. Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you hurried toward him and away from the courtyard, praying that neither the Prince nor his friend heard Chan’s shouting.

“Was there somebody out there? Who was it?” Chan immediately pestered you with questions.

“There was no one.” You told him whilst entering the kitchen, heaving a great sigh of relief upon seeing your bread removed from the clay furnace, the bread perfectly golden and risen in small domes.

Chan seemed skeptical, but he knew you were infamously defensive, so he didn’t investigate.

“Have you started the pastry for the cherry pie?” You asked him after setting the grain aside.

“No,” Chan replied, “I heard it is a favourite of the Prince. We must prepare it attentively.”

“Of course. Now, ask that lady over there if we can use her pie pan. We will start immediately.”

In complete honestly, you’d rather prepare any other dessert – even the chocolate soufflés, which were arguably difficult to perfect. However, you yet again bit your tongue and helped the eager apprentice remove the pits from the ruby red cherries, which landed in a wicker basket just at your feet. Every moment or so, you were tempted to leave behind a pit, entertaining the tiny thought that it could be inside the slice served to the Prince. You knew if that happened, neither you or Chan would be allowed to return to the castle.

It wasn’t so much skin off your nose, but Chan would definitely be disheartened.

You made sure to thoroughly clean all the cherries.

The dining hall was absolutely packed. There were rows of young pages standing at the table, hardly able to contain themselves as they stared glossy-eyed into the fresh cooked meals and desserts. No one had sat down yet, not until the King and Queen took their seats.

The Queen, swathed in the long, shimmering silk of her violet robe, observed the hungry crowd gathered before her. She was an alluring beacon, just like a porcelain doll, and the sapphire gems embossed in her crown glinted against the central chandelier. As you were specifically requested by the royal family to cook, you were granted a seat at the table, in between your mother and an anxious Chan who kept stealing glances at the Prince, standing next to his father. You refused to look at Seokmin, even when you felt his gaze trace the side of your face.

Suddenly, the Queen grabbed onto a sumptuous chalice and lifted it high in the air. She began making a toast to the newly appointed pages, congratulating the start of their journey. You copied your mother and reached for a silver goblet next to your plate, which had been prefilled with cold, dark purple wine. Everyone applauded her speech. Then, the King took over.

It was hard to pay attention, until you heard a particular name leave his mouth.

“As we continue the great customs of our ancestors who built this impenetrable kingdom, a new fate has arrived for Prince Seokmin.”

You flicked your gaze toward Seokmin, your heart hammering in your chest. His father set a hand on his shoulder, covered by a velvet, royal blue robe.

“Our son is at the rightful age to marry. After ample negotiation with the neighbouring and prosperous village of Markarth, their Lord has granted permission to his daughter, Lady Adelaide, as a possible contender. She will visit us on the summer solstice. I am prideful, and honoured, to announce this marvellous news alongside the blessed anointment of our pages.”

Instantly, you felt lightheaded, and you had to place the goblet back down on the table in order to avoid spilling the expensive wine. You knew this day would come eventually, but to hear that an arranged marriage was already brewing left a horrible taste in your mouth. The King shook his son’s shoulder with an honest pride, though Seokmin simply pressed his lips together and dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the announcement. You felt sick to your stomach. The thought of eating your beef wellington rendered you unable to even look at its outer pastry.

“Let us not dismiss the efforts of our valuable cooks, who prepared this rustic meal.” The King continued, staring in your direction.

He then praised the name of your mother, you, and Chan in specific. Everyone’s goblet remained in the air. Their gazes smeared across your flesh like wet ash.

“Is there anything you would like to say before we commence our feast?”

Your mother was ready to speak, though you managed to cut in before her.

“P-Pardon me, your Majesty, I am unbelievably humbled to cook for you tonight, but at this time I wish to be excused from the dining hall. May I part?”

Chan turned to look at you as though your hair were entangled in flames, and your mother grew notably tense. The atmosphere in the room was awfully palpable, like a thick balm that made it difficult to breathe. You could feel the pulse in your fingertips. The King then lowered his head to the Queen, and they briefly exchanged a whisper, seemingly coming to a verdict they both agreed on. Asking to be excused from a royal supper seldom occurred, if ever.

“If that is your wish,” the King said, his voice stern, “then you may part.”

You stepped away from your chair, making sure to bow toward the royal family. Seokmin was staring directly at you, his face looking hardened, cold.

“Thank you,” came your tiny response, “I hope you are delighted by the food.”

In the centre of the royal garden was a magnificent water fountain that came alive at nighttime, small, paper lanterns floating in its pool and glowing a solacing orange. You lay on your back, atop the fountain’s wide stone ledge, listening to the gushing water and staring up at the crescent moon. Everyone was still eating inside the dining hall. When you listened very intently, you could hear the faint notes of the live music. You didn’t regret leaving the supper, but you did regret not stealing a tiny bread loaf or even some fresh blackberries from the fruit baskets.  

Your stomach was aching, hungry.

Reaching down to tug up the side of your dress, you pulled out the beech wood you spotted in the grass that afternoon. You had wanted to carve something into its surface with your knife, though you weren’t sure what, and it definitely wouldn’t be possible until your mother returned the blade to you. As you held the smooth nature above your face and pressed your thumbs into its cream face, you were overcome by a new, frothing wave of anger. Seokmin was preparing to get married. The beech wood nearly split in two from your iron grip.

You hated thinking that at one point in your childhood, you genuinely liked the Prince, and harboured this flat-out embarrassing crush on him. So did everyone else, but Seokmin certainly didn’t help your malleable heart in pretending that he liked you back. You remembered it clear as day: Jeonghan, who was much smaller at the time, came bounding up to you, teeming with excitement and using his squeaky voice to tell you that Seokmin wanted to kiss you, and that you needed to meet the Prince by Peace River in the forest.

Of course, you obliged without even having to think, and your friends spent the whole morning twisting small bluebells and buttercups in your hair. When you arrived at Peace River, Seokmin was waiting for you, standing in a patch of sunlight that cut through the trees, wearing a long, silk red robe in addition to his silver crown. It was the most nervous you had ever felt in your entire life, and you remembered feeling dizzy as Seokmin gazed down at you with a sweet look in his honey eyes. The two of you leaned in closer, closer, closer…

And right when you felt his lips ghost yours, Seokmin took a step back and you heard a huge fit of laughter erupt from the thick brush in the background.

Seokmin’s friends came stumbling from their hiding spots, some holding their stomachs with how hard they were cackling, others wiping a tear from their eye, all whilst you experienced a shock bottom out in your gut. The realization that everything had been a ruse gave you a tough, metaphorical slap across the face. Jeonghan had to lean against a tree trunk as he gripped his stomach, and a familiar burn stung your cheeks upon remembering the words he coughed out, something along the lines of, “you truly thought the Prince liked you?!”

The worst part was that Seokmin didn’t say anything, he just looked at you sadly. Since then, your contempt for Seokmin blossomed, and he didn’t hesitate to bite back.

Not wanting to break the beech wood, you lowered it from your face and slid it back between the lace garter hidden beneath your dress. When you glanced at the moon, you noticed that a small, orange ball was floating above you. Sitting up, your eyes widened at the sight of numerous orange dots, glimmering all throughout the garden. You recognized them as fireflies, which had always been one of your favourite things about the night. Occasionally, you and Chan would catch the small bugs in mason jars and release them by Peace River.

One fluttered close to your face, so you stuck out your finger hoping it would land. But, out of nowhere, you heard someone walking in the grass and immediately plucked your finger away, instead peering through the moonlight where you spotted a silhouette. Once the figure came into the aurora of the water fountain, you felt your stomach drop. It was none other than the Prince himself. He was no longer wearing his royal robe, just a white poet shirt with the deep, v-shaped collar left unbuttoned, and some black capris. He wasn’t even sporting any jewelry apart from a silver bulb through his right earlobe.

“Why must you act with such blatant disrespect?” He was quick to scold you for leaving the dinner. “Could you have not sat down? Stayed out of honour and given your untouched portions to the beggars?”

You scoffed. “Do not ridicule me like one of your pages. I was asked to cook, and so I did. No more, no less.”

Seokmin huffed, blowing the black curls away from his eyes. “You were invited to eat as well.”

“I fulfilled my principal duty. There was no reason to stay.”

“You could have at least eaten something. A wedge of pie, a peach clove. For heaven’s sake, there was bread at the entryway.”

Unwilling to stay seated and argue, you stood up from the fountain and brushed off your dress, no longer paying attention to the fireflies that illuminated the garden. Of course you wished you took some food; your stomach was collapsing in on itself, though you would not admit it.

“Why are you so concerned with my meals?” You snapped. “Should you not return to your private quarters and get well rested for the summer solstice?”

After mocking his arranged marriage, you couldn’t bear to look Seokmin in the eye. For some reason, a lump got caught in your throat and you felt a hot surge push against your tear ducts.

“Judging by your poor temper, it is you who needs more rest than I.” The Prince shot back.

You couldn’t stand there any longer. Biting harshly into your bottom lip, you attempted to brush by Seokmin and exit the garden. Instead you would find the  gateway and wait until your mother and Chan arrived before leaving the castle grounds. There was food back at the house anyway, you assumed maybe some milk pudding, or sunflower seeds. It wouldn’t satiate you, but at least quell the hunger pangs until morning. However, when Seokmin grabbed your elbow you immediately flared, releasing a sharp yelp as he held you in place.

“And where do you think you’re off to?” Seokmin growled, lessening his grip on your arm and leaning in close to your face. “Come with me. I must give you something.” 

Peering into the Prince’s dark brown eyes, you snarled, “what?”

He was close enough that you could see the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose from when he and Jeonghan had chased each other with fireplace pokers. You thought about looking at his lips, pretty and pink, but refused to break eye contact. The Prince didn’t say anything, just tugged you through the garden, between the thorny rosebushes, the intricate strings of bleeding hearts, and huge pots of pastel, cotton hydrangeas. To your surprise, Seokmin guided you back into the kitchen you had occupied just a few hours ago.

Then, he opened a wood cupboard and pulled out a polished, bright silver tin, which he thrusted into your arms. You peeled the lid open and saw that the tin was filled with raspberry glazed Danishes, to which the fragrant smell of flaky pastry and berries caused your mouth to water.

“S-Seokmin, I—,” you were going to reject him.

“I am not doing charity work for you. It is the custom of our celebratory suppers to not let any guest leave unfed, or pained by hunger.”

He looked at you with a cold expression, and his tone deepened. “Now, you may wait at the front gate for your companion and mother. It is not your place to wander around my castle. I could have you arrested.”

You welcomed his threat. “I anticipate such a drastic measure if it ensures I’ll never have to see your face again.”

Seokmin didn’t look half as amused. He moved in close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin as he uttered inimically, “leave.”

During the walk home to your village quarters, Chan had already shoved an entire pastry into his mouth, licking the raspberry jam off his fingers. Your mother was eager to know who gifted you such an expensive tin alongside the Danishes. Not wanting to admit your confrontation with Seokmin, you churned up a white lie about how they were a present from another cook.

“Certainly?” She seemed quite surprised. “That is a rare gift. To my knowledge, tins with that level of embroidery are only seen inside the castle. Perhaps that cook quite liked you.”

At the early stretch of dawn, you felt someone grasp your shoulder and shake it roughly, until your eyes pulled open, groggy and blurred. You were sitting up in bed, looking bitter. Chan was next to you, and whilst he wore an apologetic expression, you could sense there was a degree of urgency to his actions.

“What’s the matter?” You hummed, digging the heel of your palm into your eye.

Just outside the windowpane, you could see the calm sunrise and feel the morning, serene warmth through the glass.

“Your mother told me to wake you, that we should head to the bakery immediately.” 

As you stumbled around your bedroom, fitting on a pair of degrading, sandalwood slippers before patting your face down with cold water from the well, you were wondering why it was so important that you attend the bakery, that your mother would need to send Chan to fetch you. Still dressed in your nightgown, you left the house alongside the young apprentice and hurried down the quiet road, passing all the tiny markets and apparel shops. As soon as the bakery came into view, you gasped, for a pearl blue carriage was stationed outside, paired to a stallion with silk, white hair. It grazed at a patch of grass and honeysuckle.

There seemed to be a crowd gathered inside the bakery, which only further piqued your curiosity. Chan couldn’t help but stroke the horse’s brilliant fur, which glowed like an amber pool due to the sunlight. You had only taken a measly step or two inside the bakery until jamming to a halt. Right before your eyes, speaking to your mother across the counter was perhaps one of the most pristinely-dressed, elegant girls to ever grace your kingdom. Her dress was long and flowing, a dark green forest jade, accented with gold lacing and a slim pair of gloves that stretched high up her arms.

Chan appeared equally stunned, for he thudded into your backside and stood staring at the girl like she was a rare type of crystal. Almost immediately, you noted the petit, twinkling tiara sitting on her head. Before she could even introduce herself, you knew exactly who she was.

“Lady Adelaide.” You heard Chan whisper to himself.

It immediately dawned on you that the summer solstice had finally arrived. The second she noted your presence at the door, her congregation of guards stepped back, allowing her to approach you. Without a second thought you bowed your head politely. She smelled like fresh clusters of jasmine and her voice was harmonious.

“I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to startle you or your apprentice,” (Chan’s face flushed a shy pink) “I heard from a guardsman of mine that your mother’s bakery is nothing short of wondrous, and I knew I had to stop here before I meet with your kingdom’s Prince.”

You stuttered straight through your teeth, “t-that’s wonderful. P-Pleased, we’re absolutely pleased to serve you, Lady Adelaide. We will prepare anything you desire.”

“Certainly.” Chan agreed.

“I’ll have to spend some time looking over the pastries,” she said jovially, “right now, I am truly awed by how delicious everything appears. My decision will come shortly.”

“Of course.” You responded, rubbing your clammy palms against your dress.

Whilst Lady Adelaide carefully inspected each pastry through the glass, your mother had pulled you and Chan into the kitchen, where she made sure it was clear you show your utmost respect toward the kingdom’s potential princess. Chan still wore a sticky blush on his cheeks, and you could tell he would be about as useful in the kitchen that day as a rock.

“No matter what she requests, we shall honour her needs and prepare it.” Your mother said. “Remember, this could be Prince Seokmin’s wife.”

You felt a streak of envy and wanted to slap yourself. 

Once Lady Adelaide made up her mind, your mother re-entered the front shop with a wide smile. Chan started washing his hands in the pail of fresh water.

“Why was I not born the Prince?” He huffed petulantly. “She is truly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Does everyone in Markarth have such a face?”

“Oh, cool it, would you?” Came your sharp response. “Our duty is to operate a bakery, not fall in love.”

You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, and you tried desperately to bite your tongue as you fastened on your apron and pulled up the sleeves of your nightgown. The young apprentice wasn’t lying, she was a true and glorious spectacle, one that would surely appease the King and Queen once they saw her next to their son. However, you weren’t keen on entertaining such a sight, and you dismissed it from your head whilst Chan went to the house front and helped your mother collect Adelaide’s dessert.

A week after Lady Adelaide’s arrival at the kingdom, you happened to find your pocket-sized carving knife inside a bakery drawer. You were absolutely relieved to discover it, and took advantage of your mother’s recent departure to slide it back against the garter belt wrapped around your thigh. For the time being, she was occupied at a different village, visiting her sister.

Chan worked on kneading a mound of sourdough, his sleeves rolled high up to his elbows and a cloth tied around his head, pushing back his growing brown hair. You decided to take a break from the kitchen heat, patting him on his shoulder just before you disappeared.

“Huh?” He mumbled, not bothering to look up from the dough, “where will you be?”

“Peace River.” You told him. “I will be taking a short swim.”

The piece of beech wood was already slipped inside your sleeve. Ever since Seokmin gave you that silver, embroidered tin, you placed it on your bedside table and stored the wood inside. 

“Shall I fetch some extra help in the mean time?” Chan asked, lobbing the dough onto a wooden serving board.

“Sure. Why not ask your companion from the academy? Seungkwan is it?”

“Yes.” Chan nodded.

You picked your way through town until you arrived at the pathway that lead into the forest. The dirt was padded down by a century of footsteps, animal paws and wagon wheels, though the soft grass that grew next to it tickled up past your ankles and bloomed with small, purple flowers. You loved walking through the forest, hearing the noises of the village become increasingly muted, replaced by tree branches that gently rocked against each other in the breeze as well as the sweet songbirds.

Upon reaching the river, you sat down on a rock just in front of the grassy bank and pulled out your carving knife. The river created a bubbling waterfall, and whilst you took hold of the beech wood, deciding what to carve, you listened to the trickling sounds. Still unsure of what to scratch in the wood, you continued shaving down its edges until the piece lost its rectangular shape and became more oval. Once you were satisfied with its rounder appearance, you brushed the wispy flakes from your lap, deciding it was time to test the river.

You removed the layers of your dress until you were in nothing but your undergarments, the sunshine that rained between the leaves warm against your skin. After wrapping the beech wood into your clothing, you set the fabric behind a strawberry bush, though left your carving knife folded and sitting on the rock. The river water was cold, but not freezing, and for a few moments you stood knee deep with your eyes closed, allowing the quiet breeze and sunrays to mellow your heartbeat. Then you proceeded to wade in further, until the water lapped up against your chin.

As much as you longed to enjoy the cool river, there was one problem that arose after a few minutes of swimming. 

You heard distant galloping becoming closer and closer, accompanied by the rattling of metallic armour and conversation. Not wanting to make your presence known, you paddled beneath the overhanging rock that created the waterfall, the downpour completely soaking your hair whilst the heavy scent of moss stuck to the stone. You were curious as to who could be arriving at the river. Carefully, you peeked around corner of the overhang.

You felt your blood turn to ice.

It was Seokmin and Adelaide. Her arms were wrapped around the Prince’s waist as he held onto the reins of his beautiful, caramel horse named Apple. You remembered the mare’s name because you were the one who suggested it as kids. Seokmin shook the reins once more, and Apple walked closer to the river, already beginning to graze at the sweet grass lining the bank. Seokmin seemed to be educating Adelaide about the river, though you really had to strain to hear what he was saying. He hopped down cleanly from the horse before assisting the Lord’s lady.

She was no longer wearing her jade dress, but a white gown with many ruffles at the skirt. Her eyes were wide and sparkling whilst she examined the forest. Seokmin set a hand on her waist, gesturing to something in the trees you couldn’t see. The Prince was standing in a patch of sunlight just like he did on that summer day when you were children, waiting to kiss you—well, more like humiliate you, but his amber skin still shone the same, and the way the light reflected off his broad, silver armour depicted just how much he’d grown since then.

Closing your eyes, you listened intently for his words.

“Everyone who visits this river is known to experience a beautiful sense of peace, and calm, hence, why it is known as Peace River.”

Adelaide pressed a kiss to Seokmin’s jaw. “I have never seen such a tranquil sight. Oh, Prince Seokmin, it’s beautiful!”

Whilst Apple continued nipping at the grass, Adelaide squatted down next to the river and let the water gush between her fingers, covered in opal and amethyst rings. She was crooning about how pretty the gems looked beneath the current to Seokmin, though you noted the young Prince wasn’t exactly listening. Something caught his attention – your carving knife, which you left sitting on the goddamn rock. Gulping heavily, you watched as Seokmin picked up the blade and inspected it closely. Immediately, you swam away from the corner when he began squinting around the clearing, as though he were attempting to spot the knife’s owner.

The worst part: Seokmin knew who that carving knife belonged to. He knew it was yours, for he offered it to you, a gift from his blacksmith, a few days before the horrible kissing incident.

When you gathered the courage to peer around the corner again, you saw Seokmin help Lady Adelaide back onto Apple’s saddle. He still had your blade in his hand, to which you watched in complete shock as the Prince ordered his horse onward, deeper into the forest. You cursed him relentlessly under your breath. That bastard, he just took your carving knife! When you only discovered its whereabouts no less than half an hour ago! Boiling with fury, you left the river, threw on the clothes over your wet skin, and marched back into town with your beech wood.

The next time you saw the Prince, you weren’t going to let him off easy.

It was the night of the Super Moon Festival.

Raised high amongst the depths of the vast, black sky was the crater itself, bright, shining, and larger than ever. A chilly wind had turned the air quite nippy, and whilst Chan sat next to you, tentatively sipping a warm jar of gold, apple cider, you were simmering in complete bitterness. You had always embraced each festival, especially the Super Moon Festivals, which promised ample fortune unto the kingdom in addition to a prosperous summer; however, that night you couldn’t force even the slightest elation. 

Prince Seokmin still had your carving knife.

A great deal of folk had concentrated to the village square, where the celebration was most vibrant. Certain people had linked arms, dancing to the live music, whilst others were releasing paper lanterns of different colours and shapes into the night sky. There were plenty of drinking games, festive food, and buzzing conversations entangled throughout the square. You were shaking your leg, watching intensely as the Prince and his friends were gathered by an old wagon in the far corner, drinking tall tins of frothy ale, laughing loudly into the crisp, cool air.

Suddenly, Chan nudged your shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. “Why do you continue staring at the Prince?”

You peeled your gaze from Seokmin, though the contort of your features remained. Lady Adelaide was nowhere to be spotted. There were rumours that she would be arriving later, that the band would play a special slow song, just so she could share a dance with the Prince.

“I must speak with him.” You replied.

Chan wrapped his cold hands tighter around the apple cider, casting you a peculiar glance.

“Why is that? Has he done something?”

You knew you couldn’t wait forever. Seokmin’s tightknit ensemble didn’t look like it was going to thin anytime soon, and if you allowed the night to end, you would have missed your chance.

“Be right back.” You uttered sharply to the young apprentice as you rose from your chair, leaving Chan to sit alone with his drink.

He could only gaze after you in a thick confusion. It was definitely nerve-wracking to approach the Prince so boldly, especially when he was swathed by his closest friends, all whom lived inside the castle or carried high profiles in the upper scale village. You almost walked straight through a dancing couple on your march across the large square, though you tried not to let any crumb of doubt or intimidation thwart you from retrieving your carving blade. Without a word, you shoved your way between the muscular bodies, ignoring their surprised scoffs.

Seokmin’s eyes were almost as wide as the moon when you stood before him. He stopped leaning against the wagon’s tall wheel and left his half-finished ale on the ledge.

“Return it to me.” You stated simply, holding out your palm.

“Who the hell is that?” One of his friends chided, clearly not amused that you just pushed through their private celebration only to speak rudely at the Prince.

Seokmin’s brow furrowed. “Return what?” He responded. 

His acting utterly irritated you.

“Do not behave so obliviously,” you barked, “come with me, now.”

Wrapping your fingers through the collar of his shirt, you attempted to pull Seokmin away from his companions. Understandably, they were not willing to lose their royal member so easily, which prompted Jeonghan to grab your arm. It came as a slight surprise to you when Seokmin snapped, “do not touch her,” causing him to withdraw his grip, his expression paling. The Prince ensured his companions that he would return soon, only to follow you down a quiet alley, away from the colourful celebration and boasting music.

Folding your arms over your chest, you glared at the boy.

“I want my knife returned.”

Straightening out his collar that you had noticeably crumbled, the Prince scoffed, a smirk trudging across mouth.

“You should not leave any personal property out where it could be discovered.” 

“You knew it was mine and yet you still took it.”

“So you were watching me, is that it?” He had the audacity to smile.

In order to contain your fulgurant anger, you clenched your fists tightly at your sides.

“Indeed I watched you take it! Now give it back!”

“Do not get so ahead of yourself.” Seokmin flashed a devious smile, one you wanted to wipe clean from his snide expression.

He reached into his pocket, and beneath the frosted moonlight, you saw him reveal your precious carving knife. You traced his fingers as he unfolded the silver blade and admired the mahogany handle, etched with the smallest, intricate embellishment. If you were swift enough, you could snatch the knife from his hand, but you weren’t sure if the risk was calculated. The Prince gently pressed the pad of his finger to the point, hardly issuing any pressure.

“This did not always belong to you.” He stated simply.

“I know that,” you quipped, “but you decided to gift it to me. So it no longer falls under your property.”

Seokmin blatantly ignored your rebuttal. Instead, he folded up the blade and dared pocket it right before your eyes. You gaped at him.

“Why were you at Peace River?”

“What?!” Feeling completely bewildered, you couldn’t help the loud air of your gasp.

He asked again, “why were you at Peace River? Were you hiding somewhere?”

“That is not your business!” You barked.

Seokmin seemed to adapt your hue of disproportionate awe. 

“It is not my business?” He took a step forward, though you didn’t shy from his advance. “I am your Prince. You shall answer what I ask of you.”

“Why do you care why I was there? Should you not focus on the wonderful time you had showing around your dear lady?”

The young Prince’s face didn’t exactly soften upon your reference to Adelaide, rather there was a subtle shift in the nuance of his gaze, where something murky tinted the surface. It was difficult to pinpoint, but you almost swore that mentioning Adelaide had made Seokmin unhappy. To make the matter more confusing, he was clearly examining your features, from the curve of your lips to the arch above each cheek, you were like a memory he could never lose.

Your heart started beating faster, and you felt dearly flustered.

“I-I was only swimming,” you answered him, “that’s all you must know.”

You hated your body for betraying you, for submitting, for twirling itself in a moonstruck loop at the mere thought of Seokmin needing to commit your face to memory. Wanting to feel angry again, you tightened your voice.

“Now, I answered your question. I have pulled you away for one thing and one thing only: my knife. I do not care that your blacksmith crafted it for you, that it was once yours before it was mine. You gave it to me. I want it back.”

“Mind your manners,” the Prince scolded, his eyes turning icy, less forgiving, “I cannot oblige when you create such a fuss.”

Digging your nails in deep to the fabric of your dress, you exhaled shakily.

”I am going to lose my temper, Prince Seokmin. I want my blade, now.”

He took a step toward you, so close you could smell the rich ale on his clothing. His voice had lowered an octave, to which you swallowed coarsely and had trouble locking eyes with him.

“First, you rudely interrupt my friends and I. Second, you speak to me informally, with no respect, not even bothered to fake it. Third, you drag me to this alley and refuse the command of your Prince to summon an ounce of manner. Clean your mouth, or forget the knife.”

Your jaw clenched, and you started to grit your teeth. Seokmin was not exactly fond of the fact that you wouldn’t make eye contact, therefore he placed a light hold on your chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting your head toward him.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He growled.

A concerning heat infiltrated your body; however, gulping back the rage that burned against your throat, you pulled down his hand, looked straight into his eyes and hissed, “you do not deserve my manners, but for the sake of the situation, may I please have my knife returned, Prince Seokmin?”

He reached into his pocket.

“I am shocked someone so ill-mannered is permitted to live in this kingdom.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watched the boy reveal your carving knife.

“I could effortlessly say the same for you.”

Seokmin handed you the blade, studying you intently whilst you picked up the side of your dress in order to return your prized possession between the thigh garter. Even in the darkness, his cheeks had noticeably pinkened. 

“Enjoy the remainder of your night.” You gave him an exaggerated, distasteful bow before walking down the alley, away from the village square. “Do not keep Lady Adelaide waiting.”

The young Prince didn’t bother responding, only chewed into his bottom lip as you disappeared from his sight, his heart beating uncharacteristically fast.

Somehow, you and Chan had ended up back in the royal kitchen.

It was in light of a specific request pitted by the King and Queen, in which they desired you to cook a delicious dinner for Prince Seokmin and Lady Adelaide as they enjoyed their umpteenth date together. You attempted to avoid the situation last minute by faking a dry cough and sore throat, though your mother was far too intelligent to let any elementary performances fool her, resulting in yet another attendance award at the castle. Chan was excited as usual, evident in the small curl to his lips whilst he cleaned his hands in a bucket of well water.

“I never understand you,” Chan said, “why are you never content to visit the castle?”

Tying an apron at your lower back, you simply huffed in response to the young apprentice, not willing to reiterate the whole spiel about your childhood mishap as well as the years of hatred that nurtured it. You knew you seemed ungrateful, stuck-up, but it wasn’t anyone’s business.

“It is not something to concern yourself with,” you told Chan, taking his place at the bucket of cold water, “I am going to cook their meal, and that is all. No more, no less.”

“When do you think we will receive their menu?” Chan asked.

“Whenever it is given to us.”

The royal kitchen was indubitably stocked with produce that could cater to any dish, it was just a matter of awaiting the particular meals Lady Adelaide and Seokmin were keen on eating. Still, you had to agree with Chan, there was an anxious density to the room whilst you prepared your stations, hoping that at least some form of authority would enter the kitchen to update you.

Chan opened a cupboard and found a burlap sack of cherries. He grinned, “do you think Prince Seokmin will want to eat cherry pie again?”

“Beats me,” you shrugged, “maybe he’ll desire a pineapple upside down cake.”

“That sounds complicated.” Chan admitted with a frown.

You chuckled, “he’s complicated.”

“Who’s complicated?”

Suddenly, the Prince appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, dressed in a long, garnet cape that draped around his shoulders, embroidered with a dazzling gold thread. His hair, usually left in its black ringlets, had been groomed neatly from his forehead. His crown looked heavy, precious and incomprehensibly expensive. Both you and Chan were stunned by his abrupt appearance, to which the apprentice dropped a pile of tins he’d been removing from a cupboard. They clattered across the stone floor, and his cheeks turned red.

Whilst the young boy quickly picked up each tin, you cleared your throat.

“N-No one. We were speaking about no one.”

Chan hurried to stand beside you, and he bowed immediately.

“Greetings, Prince Seokmin. Must I say it is a complete honour to cook for you and Lady Adelaide tonight. I shall put forth my best effort.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Seokmin said, commending the boy’s display of respect, “I have arrived to deliver the menu Lady Adelaide and I would like to eat.”

The Prince then handed Chan a scroll, which had been tied shut with a tasseled, red string. As Chan busied himself in opening the paper to glean its request, Seokmin glanced you over from top to bottom. You shot him a transient glare.

Folding your arms over your chest and titling your head to the side, you announced, “we will bring your food as soon as possible.”

“Is everything well with you?” Seokmin inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Chan looked up from the unwound scroll nervously, clearly noting the palpable tension.

“Yes, Prince Seokmin. I feel brilliant.” Your tone was drier than chalk.

Some twisted part of you hoped that the Prince would pull you into the corridor, scold you for behaving so blatantly disrespectful, lean in close to your face with a fire that turned to glistering copper in his eyes. You wanted him to grip your chin like he did in the alleyway and demand you meet his gaze. In a bizarre sense, you craved to argue with him. However, Seokmin didn’t engage in anything of the sort, and a vacant feeling encompassed you whole.

“I must return to Lady Adelaide. We will be seated on the outdoor terrace, second level.”

“Yes, of course,” Chan chirped, “I will bring your appetizer shortly.”

“May it also be known that the furnace next to you Chan has not been properly cleaned from a previous service. Do not try to light any fire, or the residue could burn you.”

Chan glanced at the stove warily whilst you released an impatient sigh.

“You should really get going, sire. It’s never polite to make your lady wait.”

The Prince chuckled, and a bold smirk illuminated his face.

“Have you ever been left to wait, darling?” He asked, biting his bottom lip.

After blowing a tuft of hair from your eyes, you folded your arms over your chest and caught the young Prince in a piercing stare.

“Why must you know? I don’t kiss and tell.”

Chan had not a clue as to what sort of exchange was unpacking before him, he only knew that his presence seemed unbelievably trivial, like a dust mite. You couldn’t deny how satisfactory it felt to wind Seokmin tighter than a wire spool, attempting to snap him somehow, hoping he’d bite back brazenly.

His professional composure was teetering, you could see it. And yet, the Prince was able to sweep away his desires to bicker with you. 

“Aren’t you such a well-behaved little girl?” He dug slyly, the backhanded compliment imbuing a strange rush in your blood. “I have no further business here. As I said, we are seated on the second level terrace.”

The second Seokmin parted, his beautiful cloak fluttering behind him, Chan nudged your shoulder with a big pout on his lips.

“Are you trying to get us banned from the castle? If so, you might just succeed.”

Stealing the scroll from his hands, you urged him to relax.

“Trust me,” you sighed, “I would get banned before any other soul here. Even before the cook who caused a fire hazard.”

You had great trouble focusing in the kitchen, and it seemed like your brain contained no interest in cooperating with the rest of your body. Chan noted your lack of composure and intervened on multiple occasions, a concerned expression covering his face.

It was stupid, shameful, but for an unbeknownst reason you could not stop envisioning Seokmin and Adelaide enjoying their supper together on the pretty terrace. You imagined his soft, attentive eyes tracing her lips whilst she spoke, his hand reaching across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear’s cusp, the evening sun dappling the sky golden and peach-rose. It lit a terrible feeling within your lower gut, a feeling that upset you beyond belief, made you want to run from the kitchen and bury yourself beneath mounds of bedsheets.

The thought of Seokmin marrying Adelaide, sliding that white diamond ring upon her finger, having to watch them parade around the kingdom completely and utterly in love; you hated it, and you kept losing your concentration as that bitterness consumed you.

“They seem to be enjoying everything.” Chan confirmed with a satisfied smile toward the end of service. He just returned after collecting their dishes. “At last, we can begin dessert!”

However, the boy quickly picked up on your temperate, distracted face.

“What’s the matter?” Chan grabbed your shoulder gently. “You look so upset.”

“I’m fine,” you dismissed him with an apathetic air, brushing his touch away, “will they be eating the cherry pie as you assumed? I have already prepared the crust.”

“Yes…” Chan leaned in rather close to examine your face whilst he hummed in response.

“For heaven’s sake, child—what are you doing?”

“S-Sorry,” he immediately backed away, “I-I thought—your eyes just looked so glassy.”

“I have already stated my wellbeing. Now, please get to making the filling so we may get this pie in the furnace.”

Chan grabbed the burlap sack of cherries from the cupboard and dumped them into an apple basket. He then submerged the basket in a water pail, making sure to clean the fruit until they were glistening and shiny. Together, you removed the cherry pits in order to create the sweet, sticky filling which smelled exactly like summer. Chan let you tend to setting the furnace flame whilst he leveled out the pies; however, you’d forgotten about the unusable furnace.

As you got down on your knee and reached into the underbelly of the oven with the starter flint, it was too late for Chan to make a reminder. Once the bright spark touched that mysterious residue, a gigantic flame bloomed forth and licked up the furnace walls. The second your hand felt such an incredible singe of heat, you released a loud cry and crawled away from the glowing oven, your chest heaving at the intense, searing pain that sizzled deep into your flesh. Chan was gobsmacked. He dropped the small butter knife in the pie filling and bent down whilst you tossed your head back, cursing at the pain.

“Oh God!” Chan looked paler than a snowflake. “Y-You have been burned! O-Oh no… this- this is awful! What should we do? H-Here—”

The boy helped you to your feet and brought you close to the water pail.

“Submerge your hand in this,” he offered anxiously, wiping away a bead of sweat from his forehead, “I need to alert someone of this. Are you okay? Do you believe you might faint?”

“N-No…” you gritted between your teeth whilst heavy tears streamed down your cheeks, “just get somebody – anybody. I-It hurts terribly…”

The boy rubbed your back as a sweet gesture before he left the kitchen. 

“I shall return as quickly as possible! I promise!”

Unfortunately, Chan had sparse luck encountering anyone from the castle. The sole person he could think of alerting was Prince Seokmin. Whilst he was not eager to interrupt his dinner with the kingdom’s potential princess, Chan was far too concerned with your agonizing pain as well as the poor condition of your hand. He knew you needed medical assistance immediately, therefore he burst through the doors in a panic and stumbled onto the terrace, where Prince Seokmin and Lady Adelaide gave him a puzzled, somewhat undesirable look.

The young apprentice steadied his breath. Once he began informing them of the situation, he couldn’t help but note the overwhelming concern that engulfed the Prince’s face.

“I must know where the nearest nurse is located. She needs assistance and I promised I would return quickly!”

Lady Adelaide wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth, and looked to Seokmin. Her eyes, brushed with a shimmering, metallic gold, widened beneath the evening light as the Prince stood from his chair and threw down his cutlery.

“You have left her alone? Where is she?” He questioned the apprentice.

Chan licked his dry lips. “P-Please, stay with Lady Adelaide. I-I just need to know wh—”

“Does she remain in the kitchen?” Seokmin interrupted him.

He stepped fairly close to Chan, the young boy tilting his head back in order to meet the serious gaze of the Prince. Admittedly, he felt rather intimidated.

“Yes, she is. But you mustn’t abandon Lady Adelaide. I can—”

“I will take care of her,” Seokmin replied sternly, “stay with the Lady if you wish.”

Without another word, the Prince pushed Chan aside and disappeared quickly through the terrace doors, leaving him alone on the beautiful terrace with Adelaide. She didn’t appear entirely thrilled to be abandoned in the midst of a romantic dinner, indicated by the uncomfortable expression that coloured her face. Instead, she tucked the hair behind her ears and pressed her smooth lips together tightly, staring out into the flossy, pink clouds, a calm breeze blowing through the air. Chan swallowed the rock in his throat, squeezing his hands nervously.

“I-I’m sure the Prince will return in due time.” He stuttered.

Lady Adelaide nodded, stiffened, unamused.

“I guess I will just have to wait.”

Standing at the pail whilst your marred flesh scorched beneath the water was a sensation unlike any other. Your bottom lip kept quivering, and your whole body trembled in an attempt to digest such an intense pain. Footsteps reverberated outside the kitchen, to which a hope flourished that a medical professional would be arriving alongside Chan – yet, the person who entered the room was completely disproportionate to what you’d been expecting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want his help, it was just going to be difficult to accept it.

Seokmin left his crown behind on a countertop and stood next to you.

“Let me see it.” He urged as your hand twitched in the water.

Rubbing your tears off on your shoulder, you rasped, “w-why are you here?”

“Because you’re hurt,” Seokmin replied firmly, “and whether you like it or not, I am going to look after this. You should have your hand beneath running water.”

“W-Where is Chan? I w-want him here t-too.”

“He remained with Adelaide.” The Prince sounded impatient.

“W-Why did you not stay with her? Why did you even come when you cannot stand me?”

Choosing to ignore your questions, Seokmin grabbed your wrist, pulling you to the back of the kitchen where he knew there was a well. Suckling back the thick tears and runniness in your nose, you let Seokmin guide your injured hand beneath the cold water he started pumping from the ground. It splashed onto the stone floor, trickling in all directions.

“S-Seokmin—,”

“Just keep quiet for one minute,” the Prince snapped, “I know that is strenuous for someone as verbose as you, but right now, allow me to take care of you, alright?”

For an unprecedented time in your life, you legitimately heeded Seokmin’s words and kept your mouth shut, deciding it was not worth the energy to act so bitter. Whilst the running water succeeded in cleaning any sediment from the wound, the sensitive flesh stung and flared to a degree that was impossible to ignore, leaving you unable to suppress any small sobs and whimpers. If not for Seokmin holding your hand beneath the water, you would have withdrawn it immediately. 

You pushed your face into his chest, your tears wetting his clothing. Seokmin shushed you softly, attempting to keep you calm.

“I know it hurts, but you’re doing so well, okay? A minute longer darling, I promise.”

You felt Seokmin’s chin sit on top of your head, and you only pushed your cheek in further against his strong chest, smelling the faint concoction of a luxurious perfume on his amber skin. Somehow, the pain became more bearable when his honeyed voice touched your ears.

“H-Has it been a minute now?” You sniffled.

The cold stream of water that once gushed from the spout diminished. Whilst the floor was rippling with a wide, wet circle, your hand felt less seared, less like a piece of charred meat.

“Mmhm, it’s been a minute,” Seokmin said, “how badly does it still hurt?”

Glancing at the wound imbued an intense cloud of nausea.

“I-It’s throbbing, a-and stings. Should we not wrap it?” You blubbered.

Seokmin brushed his fingers along your warm cheek, removing the new tears.

“Not immediately, angel. If the flesh is too fragile, the cloth might pull up more layers of tissue when it is removed. There should be an ointment station, over here—,” the Prince placed his hand against the small of your back, and you followed him toward a counter, “if the correct gel is in here, my hope is that it soothes your skin. Afterward, we will wrap it cautiously.”

Your injured hand was shaking too much, so you had to grasp your wrist tightly in order to centre it to one place. Seokmin opened a drawer filled with small, glass ampules. He picked between them carefully until coming across the correct ointment, a clear gel that had a strong, plant-like scent when he pulled out the tiny cork. Smearing the glistening gel onto his fingertips, the Prince then asked to see your hand. Knowing it would sting, you clenched your teeth.

“I’m not being too rough, am I?” Seokmin asked, concentrating on softly massaging in the vital ointment.

Exhaling stiltedly, you shook your head. “It’s getting better, I believe.”

“This is quite deep,” he remarked, scooping up more of the gel, “why on earth did you use the furnace upon my instruction not to?”

“I was not thinking about the furnace.” You admitted, biting down into your cheek.

Seokmin couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He had just finished applying the cool gel, which gleamed on your skin and sunk into the damaged tissue. Additionally, stuffed somewhere in the drawer was a compact spool of bandage that the Prince started unraveling, until he tore a perfect strip to delicately wrap around your hand. Your heart began racing and heat stippled your face as the boy finally looked up from the injury. His eyes were so unbelievably gentle, his lips the colour of roses. It reflected a painstakingly familiar memory, in which you could almost hear the river running in the background and feel the pleasant sunlight warm your arms.

“Then what was on your mind?” Seokmin questioned.

His voice was low, and he stared unabashedly at your mouth.

You didn’t think – you didn’t want to. 

Instead, you pushed to the very back of your skull every malevolent thought you once harboured toward the Prince and shut your eyes, envisioning yourself within a dream. You pressed a short, soft kiss against his mouth.

There was a moment’s pause where Seokmin realized the situation.

Suddenly, he cupped the sides of your face in his tender hands, urging you forward again, his lips brushing yours in such a gentle manner that a shiver tingled down your spine. It was far from a single, fleeting kiss. Each time your lips pressed together, you would linger for a moment longer and fall deeper into the other, losing all sense of the world around you. A molten warmth expanded in your chest as you felt Seokmin’s tongue make a soft prod at your bottom lip, encouraging you to sigh blissfully into the kiss. He smiled at your quiet noises.

What was happening to you? You struggled to control your own functions. Seokmin was eliciting a powerful feeling that yearned for you to continue kissing. His slender fingers drifted from your face to your hips, and he pulled you tighter against his body, each kiss revealing the other’s burning want and secret desires. As you suckled slowly on Seokmin’s tongue, listening to him purr, there was a rich, unique taste of cider. It prompted you to think about dinner, about Chan who’d gone looking for a nurse, about Lady Adelaide. 

As soon as her face entered your mind, something switched off inside you and your blood transformed into cold liquid.

“S-Seokmin,” you murmured, disconnecting the sweet pressure of your mouth to his, “I-I... I don’t think we’re in our right minds.” 

Your eyes began filling with water whilst you gazed at his pink cheeks and the pretty swell to his lips. The boy grabbed both your hands with a concerned expression, holding them against his chest where you felt his heart beat.

“What do you mean, angel?” Seokmin whispered. He then planted a kiss much too affectionate against your forehead, in which your eyes only grew more watery. “I haven’t anything to drink if that’s what you’re implying.”

“N-No.” You shook your head and looked into his eyes, swallowing back the dreadful taste of pain, of a relationship you could never have, of a boy you could never have. “We cannot do this... t-this is not just...”

“Wait—” Seokmin stuttered when you pulled away from him, “where are you going? We can talk about this.” His voice trembled slightly, heavy with sorrow.

“Stay with me, please.” 

But there was nothing he could say or do that would cement you to your spot.

An overwhelming wave of emotion surged through your body, and you knew you had to leave the castle grounds unless you wanted the royal family to see you explode into a mess of hot tears and incoherency. Whilst you slipped through the kitchen door, you bumped into Chan who just returned from the second level terrace, his eyes growing wide when he noted the dreadful shadow that hollowed your countenance. The boy swallowed thickly, for the next person to enter the hallway was Lady Adelaide herself, who did not look pleased at the wait.

“A-Are you o—”

“I cannot stay here,” you told Chan in a quick jumble, “I am going to the house. Please, take care of the dessert if you can manage.”

Lady Adelaide stepped aside, allowing you to escape the corridor.

Everything felt like it was collapsing around you.

It was nighttime as you sat in your bed, a candle flickering on the windowsill whilst you examined the neat bandages that enveloped your hand. You couldn’t sleep. Chan was sent home early from the castle by Prince Seokmin, and he attempted to check on you with plentiful knocks to the front door; however, you didn’t possess the right spirit to answer him and instead covered your teary face with the bedsheets until he left. You were infuriated at yourself for kissing the Prince. Inside, your heart felt mercilessly torn up and shredded.

Continuing to look out the window, you were intrigued by a fluttering, orange orb that eventually paused on the leaves of a tall sunflower. It was a firefly.

Quickly, you reached for the silver Danish tin on your bedside table and pulled out the carving knife in addition to the small, smooth disc of beech wood. It was difficult to make incisions in the wood with an injured hand, though you simply bit your lip and didn’t allow the pain to phase you. Making tiny scratches with the fine, sharp tip of the blade, you spent the next hour, maybe more, carving a tiny firefly into the beech wood. When you looked back into your drawer, you spotted a silver-beaded chain, and an idea instantly shaped in your head.

You decided to make the wooden emblem into a necklace.

From the kitchen, you could hear Chan speaking with a new ensemble of customers who entered the bakery, the sound of their abundant coins rattling across the countertop and the apprentice’s cheerful tone as he wrapped their food in wax parchment. You hadn’t spent much time behind the counter that day, for your mood was no better than a cat who’d just been stuck in a thunderstorm. Chan advised you to stay in the kitchen instead. Since that morning, you’d either been making loaves of banana bread or staring into space.

There seemed to be an unsettled atmosphere about the kingdom. Most if not always, it indicated there was a problem at the castle, some sort of dispute amongst the royal family.

Whilst you waited for the loaves in the furnace to rise, you put your head down on the work bench and gazed at the stone floor. You had never felt so off-kilter. The fact you couldn’t do much more than mush bananas and whisk together a batter only added to your melancholy. After burning your hand, you were rather useless in the kitchen, though Chan had a much politer way of wording it whenever you attempted to help him with anything the least bit complex. You wouldn’t be surprised if he replaced you with Seungkwan in the near future.

Once the aromatic, sweet scent of the banana bread thoroughly encompassed the kitchen, you checked on the tin and decided it was time to remove it. Letting the bread sit next to an open window, you heard more muffled conversation through the door.

Suddenly, Chan had slipped into the kitchen. His expression was awfully nervous, to which an unpleasant feeling began brewing your lower gut.

“Your presence is needed at the counter.” Chan said flatly.

“Why is that?” You smiled. “I thought you preferred me locked up back here until closing.”

When the apprentice didn’t return your warmth, you knew there was something wrong.

“You are really needed at the counter.” He urged. “I will cut the bread, okay?”

“O-Okay…” You responded in a puzzled manner, allowing Chan to slip around you and grab a butter knife from the drawer.

Walking out from the kitchen was equivalent to getting a slap in the face, a splinter between your toes, a hard poke in the eye – basically anything undesirable constituted the situation you just introduced yourself to. Prince Seokmin stood on the opposite side of the counter. It appeared as though he recently returned from a valley trip with a congregation of other knights, for he was dressed in his heavyset armour and Apple was tied to a post outside shop.

Seokmin brushed his hair back and smiled at you.

“I know you are surprised to see me, but—,”

“No no no,” you shook your head and gripped the counter tightly, your legs feeling like thin jelly, “you cannot be here, y-you cannot—”

“I have to speak with you.” Seokmin said.

Your eyes flitted toward a metal bucket sitting in the corner.

“Not right now,” you spluttered quickly, “I have to refill the water, for our kitchen.”

The Prince frowned. You were surprised he wasn’t swathed in his usual entourage, that his closest companion, Jeonghan, was nowhere to be seen. Whilst you scooped the bucket from the floor and rushed toward the bakery doorway, Seokmin knew you were only using it as an excuse to avoid him. What else could you do? Your heart was far too fragile.

“This is just as much an inconvenience to myself as well as you,” the Prince announced very staidly, “you know this conversation must happen. Why bother avoiding it?”

Seokmin followed you through the doorway, where Apple was grazing at a patch of honeysuckle in the grass. You refused to look back at him.

“Exactly! It is an inconvenience that can easily be avoided if you return to the castle.”

Marching behind the bakery, you threw the metal bucket on the ground and kicked it under the well, pumping it full of cold water. .

“I refuse to return. Not until we talk about what happened!”

“Maybe I do not want to entertain that idea!” You let go of the handle, instead whipping around, facing the persistent Prince. “It was a mistake! That’s it!”

Seokmin shook his head. “Why are you so hostile? Why can you never discuss anything without starting an argument?”

You didn’t bother suppressing your scoff. “Have you ever noticed the only person I treat with such hostility, is you? Has that ever crossed your mind, Prince Seokmin?”

“Of course I know!” He quipped whilst frustratedly dragging a hand through his curls. “It has always been that way! That is why I always have to scorn you, since you behave so bitterly!”

“There is no one but yourself to blame.” You hissed, sensing the water prickle at your eyes.

The Prince looked stunned, for his mouth dropped open. “You still hold onto that memory so vehemently?”

At even the slightest reference to that humiliating, summer day forever engrained in your past, the heat flooded your eyes and you were completely helpless to stop the first tear from rolling down your cheek. There was no doubt, since that incident your hatred for Seokmin had completely blossomed, and in response to your poorly controlled anger, the Prince was left no choice but to respond with just as much belligerence. The ground between you grew terribly thick brambles and spikes, until it was impossible to even be in the same space without getting hurt.

Yet, if your hatred was exactly what you claimed it was, then your kiss with Seokmin should have never happened. Hatred was merely a dark, sinister form of passion, and no matter what circumstance, passion always lived inside your heart.

Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your dress, you shook your head. “You humiliated me in front of half the royal’s children! How could I ever dismiss that?”

The Prince furrowed his brow. “That was ages ago. We were exactly that: children. Children can be stupid and say stupid and do stupid things!”

“I just don’t understand why you pretended for so long,” you whimpered to Seokmin, tightly clenching your fists, “if you never even liked me from the start…”

“I-I wasn’t pretending… I just couldn’t… I-I…” The Prince struggled to elaborate.

Suddenly, he could no longer look you in the eye, and a raspberry tint flooded his cheeks. You gulped, a dizzying sensation infiltrating your head as you willed your heart to stop beating so vivaciously. 

Seokmin took a step closer toward you, an anxious colour to his face.

“If you just let me explain what I came here to tell you,” he murmured, “then perhaps we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats so adamantly.”

You folded your arms over your chest and pressed your lips shut. The silence was daunting, but at the same time you realized the bickering would lead to endless circles.

The Prince summoned a breath of courage and met your wet stare.

“I refused the marriage to Lady Adelaide. She will return to Markarth before the sunset. I only told my mother and father this morning.”

Slowly uncrossing your arms, you blinked at Seokmin in complete shock.

“S-Seriously?” You stammered, sweat tainting your palms.

“I had to,” Seokmin sighed, his eyes trailing the grass, “because of what happened with u—”

“I did not ask you to refuse her as a bride!” You hiccupped, salt glimmering at your tear ducts. To be the reason the kingdom’s next marriage crumpled apart, you couldn’t bear it.

“I know you didn’t!” The Prince retaliated, his voice booming. “Do you not think I am already aware of the great misfortune and trouble my decision brings to our kingdom? I did not refuse Lady Adelaide because we kissed – I refused the marriage because I do not love her, and it would be an utter disservice to both of us if we cannot reciprocate our own hearts.”

You bit down strictly on your bottom lip. It absolutely boggled your mind that Seokmin felt no love toward Lady Adelaide, when everyone who saw her fell head over heels. Whether it was her beauty, wealth, or the perfect sweetness of her character, everyone in the kingdom had something positive to say in regards to their potential princess. Maybe you had not gelled with her in the same manner as everyone else, but you knew this marriage had been anticipated since the day Seokmin was born, and the fact such a monumental celebration would have to be pushed back created a recipe for tension.

The Prince set his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly.

“That is what I had to tell you,” he spoke in a much gentler tone, “it was not my intention to anger you, or make you this upset. But I have to remain honest with myself…”

“W-What are you saying?” Sounded your trembling, unsteady breath.

The sunlight splashed into Seokmin’s eyes, igniting them in a blazing copper. You felt swelteringly hot as the boy brushed against your cheek with his fingers before he leaned in close to your face, still damp with tears. You couldn’t concentrate on anything apart from the low velvet of his voice and how sincerely he admired you.

“I’m saying that I’m in love with you.”

Just before you entered the cool balm of the river, you spent a few moments stroking Apple’s caramel mane and picking berries from the nearest thicket to feed her. For such a strong, firmly-built horse, she was delicate in nature, just as you remembered her from your childhood. You ran your palm along the coarse side of Apple’s fur, scratching lightly so her ears would twitch, before hearing Prince Seokmin lilt your name. When you looked to the river, you saw him grinning at you, his black hair soaking wet and pushed back from his forehead.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there for an eternity?”

“No,” you replied, “I was just looking after your horse.”

“Trust me, Apple gets pampered more than I do.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed the pale lilac hem of your dress, peeling the material over your head and letting it fall into a ball on the grass. In nothing but your undergarments, Seokmin gazed at you fondly, watching how you carefully waded deeper and deeper into the river until your toes could hardly scrape the smooth pebbles. Afternoon sunlight spun between the canopy of leaves overhead, which dappled the calm peaks in the water, making them sparkle. Seokmin swam closer to you. He was truly breathtaking as the rays caressed his amber skin and danced in his eyes like a honey fire.

The boy’s fingers brushed your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist and drape your arms over his wide shoulders. He held you tightly, his lips forming a lovestruck smile.

“Will your anxious mother not worry as to why her son has been out for so long?” You couldn’t help but tease him.

“I told her I would not be back for supper. At worst, she’ll send Jeonghan as my scout.”

“Do you think he could keep his mouth shut if he saw us together?”

Seokmin titled his head back with laughter, and you could see his perfect rows of teeth. “I have little certainty,” he admitted, “but Jeonghan would keep a secret if I forced him to.”

“That is reassuring to hear.” You replied with a smirk.

It was best to give the kingdom ample time to recover after the displeasing news of Seokmin’s cancelled marriage with Adelaide rapidly spread. She was supposed to be his first choice, his destiny as the King and Queen preached with every ounce of their souls. Furthermore, the royal family would definitely not be mirthful to discover that Seokmin had rejected Adelaide because his heart beat for a childhood crush from the lower village. That was unheard of, unfathomable, and rather unorthodox, which caused you and Seokmin to keep your relationship a secret.

At times there was pressure, there was great difficulty and frustration, but neither you or him could keep away from each other. You didn’t have to be married, or live in his sumptuous castle where everything was either expensive silk or encrusted with some sort of precious gem. It was quite simple: you just wanted to be with him – the environment wasn’t important. When you began seeing each other, you realized that on the summer day of your childhood where the Prince had humiliated you was a shtick orchestrated by his friends.

In actuality, Seokmin always had a crush on you, though at the time, the tender strings of his heart were easily pulled by them, and what could have been the start of a relationship ended up in years of bickering, unnecessary hatred, and repressed emotion. Cupping a hand against Seokmin’s damp cheek, you leaned in to kiss him softly. You smiled against his mouth upon feeling his hands squeeze your thighs.

“Can I give you something?” You then asked in a quiet voice.

The Prince nodded, allowing your feet to touch the pebbles again. 

“Of course, angel.” He complied.

Together, you left the river. Whilst Seokmin started petting Apple’s shimmering coat, you picked up the dress on the forest floor and reached into one of its pockets, brushing the beaded chain with your fingers. When Seokmin turned around and saw you holding a necklace, his eyes lit up in a marvelous fashion and an endearing smile beamed from one corner of his mouth to the other. It was the beech wood necklace, in which you had carved a small firefly in order to complete the pendant.

“I carved this from a piece of wood I discovered outside your castle, on the day Chan and I had to cook for the pages. At first, I had no idea what to make of it, but then I decided on a firefly.”

Seokmin admired the pendant up close. It felt wonderful to see him examining it with such an appreciative light in his gaze. The Prince connected the chain around his neck, to which the wooden oval sat between his prominent collarbone.

“I-I thought I should gift it to you. And, whenever we must be apart, you can just think of this necklace, and the comfort that comes from a firefly’s glow.”

Suddenly, the boy’s hands were atop your hips. He pulled you in close against his body, still gleaming with water droplets, and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. You could sense just how much ardour and warmth was laced into the contact, and a dense heat scattered beneath your cheeks. He tasted like the sugar powder and strawberries you ate before visiting the river.

“It’s beautiful.” Seokmin whispered.

He pecked your mouth again sweetly whilst you felt a gentle breeze blow throughout the forest, causing the tiny hairs on your damp skin to stand sharp. You cozied yourself closer into Seokmin’s chest, smiling like a foolish romantic at his words.

“Thank you, my love. I will hold onto it forever.”

✧✎ a/n: okay when i started writing this i THOUGHT it was going to be so short, like at most 4-6k, but then i was at the 6k mark, only halfway done, and i realized it was going to be another ‘wish’ situation lol. i’ve never written a royalty!au before so i felt like i was reaching into the dark a little bit jsefhwef but i hope it was still pleasant! as always i treasure all ur guys feedback so pls don’t hesitate to leave ur th0ts!! i haven’t written for seok in ages and it felt super nice to give him a lengthy fic! contrary to nobody’s belief - this was not inspired by owl city lol.

[maybemitch]

LET ME GO

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes sacrificing yourself will save people's lives.

WARNING: *Violet isn't blind. Louis still has his tongue. Tenn still dies* / *Louis and Reader get to the bridge after Clementine, AJ, Tenn and Violet* / Character Death. Swearing.

INSPIRED: Black Widow Death (I sob still)

WORD COUNT: 2538

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

Louis' eyes analysed each and every friend which was crouch behind cover. Louis could notice the panic which had found a residence inside of them, each and everyone of them wondering if they'd even make it off this god forsaken beach. Away from this small war they are involved in. A protective manner overtook him as he counted the heads of his people; Aasim, Omar, Violet, Clementine, AJ and himself. Six people. Yet in the makeshift prison cells on the ship, there was seven of them. They were down a person.

Louis looked over his friends again before cautiously peering his head up over the boxes - he didn't want to be spotted by the Delta members, especially because they were all wielding guns. Brushing his eyes over the sanded area, he could see Ruby and Willy with their way out, least they were safe. Louis couldn't spot Tennessee, yet he knew that he was safe out there somewhere. Eventually, his eyes landed on the person they were missing and panic set in him noticing the situation they were in.

“Y/N's injured." Louis informed the hiding teens, his eyes not daring to shift from his friend, "I can't tell if they're bit or shot." his voice was weak and quiet. "We need to help them."

"They're on the other side of the beach," Clementine responded as she peered over the box herself, her gaze locking onto the friend in danger, "They'll never get back over here in time."

Louis turned his head slightly, looking down at his friends, "Has anyone got a knife?"

Violet nodded her head, pulling a small blade from her pocket, holding it out for Louis, "I managed to swipe it on the way out. What do you need it for?"

Louis sighed, gesturing a small hand over to where Y/N was, "When we head over to Ruby and Willy, i'm going to divert and go after Y/N. We will find our own way back."

The group nodded at Louis, his idea was the best. His idea would guarantee the survival of everyone in their group, his idea would ensure that Y/N got home. Clementine's hand twitched around her weapon and she began to explain to everyone that they were about to head over to the other two. Every teen nodded at her, readying themselves to make a run for it - in Omar's cast clinging to Aasim as they crossed the open area.

Louis took a deep breath, following the group into the open as Clementine covered their backs. He held he knife in his hand as he slipped away from the group, sending them a small reassuring smile, one which spoke for itself, 'Ill be back before you know it'.

Louis held his breath as he slipped by the walkers, his heart was racing in his chest considering the lack of space between him and he undead. He knew he held the knife and he knew he could fight them off, but killing the dead wasn't his on his mind. The only thing which was, was Y/N.

Louis heard Y/N let out a sob of pain when they shrugged off a walker hand with their right arm, this caused the male to move at a faster pace. Y/N's left hand applied pressure to their shoulder, staggering away at a slow pace from the walker. Louis ran up to their side, announcing his presence quietly as he placed a hand on their upper arms.

"Lou," Y/N sobbed, forcing themselves into his chest, despite the pain which throbbed in their shoulder. Louis held them tightly, still being alert of the walkers which roamed near by. "Im glad you're here."

Louis hummed, holding them tight for a moment, before pulling them away from the hug and lead them towards a safe area away from the beach, away from Detla and the walkers.

He scanned over them, his eyes lingering on the wound on their shoulder. An urge rushed through him, an urge to reach and and inspect the wound closely, to know officially what was wrong with them. But he fought the urge, and rather than reaching, he pointed a finger.

Louis frowned, "What happened?"

Y/N turned their gaze to their shoulder, frowning themselves, before allowing a sigh to slip past their lips, "A Delta member fucking shot me whilst I was trying to escape. I was lucky. They could have... you know... been a bit unlucky."

Louis lowered his head, a hand now touching their upper arm on their uninjured, "Your safer now. We... we just have to find a way back to the school."

Y/N looked around the area, the walkers were nowhere near them now, they were able to take a breather for a moment. Y/N lifted her left arm, pointing in a direction, "I vaguely remember a bridge. You know the one, surely."

Louis snapped his fingers before pointing at them, "Yes. That bridge. I know the one. That's that direction," he pointed in the same direction, "From where we are, it should take us a few hours. We should get back to the school before nightfall."

Y/N smiled and agreed with Louis, before adding something of their own, "We might be longer. Depending if my arm starts to hurt. It can prevent me from doing things."

Louis nodded before nodding his head backwards into the direction they needed to walk. Y/N smiled, beginning to slowly follow him. The two teenagers walked side by side with one another, Louis kept sending Y/N reassuring smiles, sometimes pulling a small face to hear them chuckle lightly.

They spoke in a hushed tone between one another. The reason which they spoke so quietly was because they knew of the potential dangers which lurked around every corner they took and they quite frankly didn't want to put themselves in harms way. Occasionally, Louis did hum, yet quietly. Y/N would bob their head to the humming, a smile never falling from their lips.

Eventually, the two teenagers entered the bridge, Louis walking at a slight quick pace, still in a protective manner of Y/N. He held a hand behind him as they walked further onto the bridge, both their hearts breaking at the sight of Minerva's eaten body. She might have been on Delta's side, but she was their friend, a long time ago. Y/N stood at Minerva's body, a guilt flooding through them. They couldn't change what happened, they knew that. But they could still wish that it never happened.

Louis pointed in the direction they needed to head, "Good news is, we are close to home. Bad news is that." his finger moved down to the massive hole. Louis frowned at the gap in the wooden bridge. It was jumpable, yet considering the condition Y/N was in, it was a difficult situation. Louis took a timid step forwards, not wanting to get to close to the edge, as he peer over the gap, the stream below ran at an alarming pace and the jagged rocks beneath the water only brought an uneasy feeling to his turning stomach.

Louis thought and rubbed his face. He quickly turned his whole body, looking back in the direction they came from. He quickly nibbled on his thumb, before a thought popped into his head, "There is another way. All we've got to do if go back to the trail and take a left rather than right. It'll be more suitable for us. It just adds a few more hours to our journey."

Y/N moved to besides Louis, their left hand still applying pressure to the bullet wound on their right. Peering over the gap themselves, they let out a shaky breath, "We don't need the other way. I'll be able to do this way. It's only a jump."

Louis turned his gaze to his friend, shaking his head, "Are you sure? We can find another way around if you don't want to jump." His main concern was his friends safety right now.

Y/N nodded their head, "I'm sure. This is the quickest way home. I just want to get home now."

Louis smiled, nodding his head also, "I'll jump over first," he took a few steps away from the gap, pausing momentarily as he took a deep breath. He ran after the deep breath, taking a leap to the other side. Louis' landing was neat, his knees harshly collided with the rotting wooden planks, the collision only alerting the walkers near by.

Louis brought his hands up from the wood, he gave a small roll of the eyes when he noticed a small cuts littering his palms. He shrugged the thought of them away, before rubbing at his knees. He turned, sending a small smile across the gap to Y/N. He cleared his throat, before pointing to the clearing behind her.

“We haven’t got long,” Louis informed, taking a quick glance over his shoulders watching as the walkers come staggering down the path, “All you need to do is a run and jump. Like I did. And you’ll be fine.”

Y/N nodded as they began to back up slightly. Removing their hand from the wound, a rush of pain made them bite back a sob. They shook their head, before taking a run up to the gap in the bridge.

Y/N jumped.

Yet, unfortunately, their jump wasn’t enough. Their hands barely made it onto the wood on the other side, their grip loosening as the seconds ticked by. Louis was quick to react, dropping to his knees, grabbing ahold of their right arm tightly, whilst their left arm slipped.

“You’re okay.” Louis assured. Louis’ grip around Y/N’s right wrist was strong. Determination filled his veins. He was going to pull them back up, he didn’t care what he cost was. He could hear the moans of the walkers behind him, gradually shuffling closer to the panicked teenagers.

Louis flashed a small panicked smile, before using his strength. "Work with me Y/N," Louis manages to get out as he kept trying to pull them up, "Please. Please work with me."

Y/N let out a whimper, the bullet wound on their left shoulder throbbing more than ever. Their eyes drifted to the drop below them, whilst their ears listened closely to the danger coming towards Louis.

"Lou," Y/N whispered, tears brimming their eyes, the pain from their arm was preventing them from helping him, "My shoulder... I can't help."

Louis panicked, quickly taking a glance over his shoulder, the walkers were now close to entering the bridge, "Give me your left arm. I can get you up that way. Please. Just work with me."

Y/N lifted up their left arm, pain shooting through them once again, they shook their head, "I... I can't... Lou. It hurts"

A walker moaned from behind Louis, the distance between them and Louis was getting thinner. Louis tried to shake the thought of the danger approaching him, but he could see Y/N watching him intensely.

"What?" Louis whispered, closing his eyes for a moment, fighting the tears which brimmed.

"You've got to go," Y/N mumbled, "I'm just going to get you killed. I can't have that." They gave him a weak smile, a single tear rolling down their face.

Louis shook his head, pulling at Y/N's arm again with everything he had, "No. I... I'm not leaving you."

Y/N took a deep breath, "Let me go, Lou." They could feel their arm slowly slipping from Louis' grip, despite the male trying his hardest, "Just let me go, Lou."

Louis shook his head again, his words falling from his slips softly, "No. Please. Please work with me."

"It's okay," Y/N breathed, their breath shaky. Another tear rolled down their face. Y/N nodded their head at Louis, "It's okay."

Louis let a tear slip through clenched eyes, he inhaled deeply, as he opened his mouth, "Please. Don't... don't make me do this. Just work with me... please."

The walkers gradually got closer, Y/N felt themselves slipping out of Louis’ grip. They knew that Louis was panicking, the way he was taking deep breaths, shaking his head side to side. He was trying to figure out a way to save his friend.

Y/N gulped, “Lou. Let me go.” Louis shook his head no, “You’ve got too. Otherwise you’re not going to make it. Please. It’s okay.”

“No.” Louis sobbed, pulling at their arm again, internally cursing himself when he heard them sob in pain. A walker moaned once again from behind him and he froze, “I can’t. I can’t let you go.”

Y/N frowned, “I’m not letting you die here. I can’t let you die here. You know I can’t.”

“If I drop you,” Louis breathed in, “I’m killing you. I can’t do that to a friend.”

Y/N nodded, “Okay.”

Louis smiled momentarily before he let out a small scream when he felt Y/N leave his hold. Y/N - despite the pain in their shoulder - managed to snatch their hand out of Louis’ grip. They knew it was the only way Louis would survive, he was being too stubborn. He didn’t want to kill his friend, no one would.

Louis’ hand reached down into the gap, as if he was going to grab them back. His eyes clenched shut, preventing him from witnessing the brutal death of his friend. He let out a huff, as he pushed himself back to his knees and then to his feet. Y/N did what they did so he would survive. He had to keep moving.

He dug his hand into the pocket of his trench coat, fishing out the knife Violet gave him a few hours ago so he could defend himself as he marched his way through the walkers which constantly snapped their jaw at the appetising human flesh.

The stars illuminated Louis’ path, guiding him back down the familiar trails which led Ericson. He held his head down low, the events from a few hours ago playing on his mind like a movie on repeat. His heart must have broke several times on his journey back home, to him it felt as if it was in several different pieces now.

Louis sighed and lifted his head when he walked through the gates of Ericson. The screeching of the gate altered all the other kids which were scattered around the courtyard. Louis sighed again when everyone began to crowd him, peering over his shoulder looking for Y/N.

“Lou, where Y/N?” Aasim asked as he looked out of the gate, noticing their friend no where to be seen.

Louis brought his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down harshly. He couldn’t trust his voice right now but he knew that his silence spoke a thousand words for him.

[swanqueeneverafter]

47. Swan Song, Pt.5

Enchanted Forest. (Mulan sits listening to Ruby describe her time with the pack.) Ruby: “It was like nothing I've ever felt before… the pine needles underfoot, the air rushing over my fur, my brothers and sisters at my side. I couldn’t believe it.” Mulan: “It sounds as though you’ve found your home, at last.” Ruby: (Smiles:) “I think I have. Come with me to meet my mother, I know she’ll like you, she values strength and an unyielding spirit.” Mulan: “My history with your kind is complicated. I don’t think-” Ruby: “Please, Mulan. I would never have found them without you.” Mulan: (Relents:) “All right, but I won’t stay long.” Storybrooke. Beneath The Clock Tower. (Emma goes to swing the dwarf axe at the Stone of Destiny which holds Excalibur.) Darkness: (Appears, draped across the stone:) “A dwarf axe. Now, that's a creative path to failure.” Emma: “Dwarf axes cut through everything.” Darkness: “Nothing cuts through magic. Except maybe a kiss. Have you thought about kissing it out? (Laughs as Emma swings and the axe breaks on the stone:) You're running out of options, deary. You see, we want you to, uh, snuff out the light. So, we need a hero to pull Excalibur from the stone. Now... let's face facts, that's not gonna be you. So, why don't you stop messing around and go get the hero we need? Oh, and, uh, you and I both know who that is.”

Granny's Diner. (Everyone is celebrating being back, but Regina sits alone at the bar. Sliding a shot glass in front of Regina, Belle joins her. Upon receiving a questioning look, Belle merely raises her glass. Picking hers up, Regina shrugs and clinks glasses with Belle before downing the shot.) By The Jukebox. (Henry notices Violet standing by the jukebox and walks over to her.) Henry: “Violet?” Violet: (Turns:) “Henry, hey.” Henry: “What are you doing in Storybrooke?” Violet: “I don’t know. My father and I were in the stables and when we finished caring for the horses, we found ourselves in this strange place.” Henry: “Your entire house is here?” Violet: (Nods:) “It’s in the forest not too far from here.” Henry: “I.. I’m sorry. I’ve no idea why my Mom would’ve brought you back with us.” Violet: “My father isn’t best pleased. He was wary of magic at the best of times, now he won’t leave our house.” Henry: “We’ll find a way to get you back home, I promise.” Violet: (Smiles:) “I’m in no hurry. (Turns to the jukebox:) Remind me, how does this contraption work again?” Henry: “We call it a jukebox. (Pulls a coin from his pocket:) If you feed it, it will sing for you.” (Henry inserts the coin and music begins to play.) In The Booth. (David smiles, watching Henry and Violet reconnect, then notices the worried look on his wife’s face.) David: “Mary Margaret? It's okay. We're gonna get Emma back, and we're gonna win this fight.” Mary Margaret: “I know. You're forgetting one thing, David. If we win... Emma loses.” 

Granny’s Diner. Exterior. (Unseen, Emma stands across the street watching everyone get on with their lives. She walks forward as if to enter the diner, then turns and walks away.) Enchanted Forest. Anita's Den. (Mulan stands by the fire pit as Anita and Ruby argue.) Anita: “How dare you bring that murderer here?” Ruby: (Confused:) “Mulan? She's my friend.” Anita: “Her kind are the reason we've been driven underground.” Mulan: (As Ruby looks to her:) “I told you I had a history with your people.” Anita: “She and her red-headed army slaughtered your brothers and sisters.” Mulan: “It was King Fergus' army, and you attacked us first.” Anita: “Lies.” Mulan: “You raided villages, you killed the clan's children whilst they slept.” Ruby: “No. Mother?” Anita: “You don't understand. Our people were starving. (Points at Mulan:) King Fergus and his people drove us from our traditional hunting grounds. There was nothing left for us to feed on.” Ruby: “So you ate their children? Anita: “We fought back, we had no choice. To do nothing would've shown weakness.” Ruby: “You could have moved on, you could've found new hunting grounds!” Anita: “If you back down even once they've got you, and then all is lost. I've regretted losing you every day since she took you from me.” Mulan: “So because you lost your child, it justifies slaughtering others?” Anita: “You don't get to judge me, savage. (To the others:) Take her.” Ruby: “What are you doing?” Anita: “She'll pay for the lives we lost.” (Mulan spins her sword, ready to defend herself.) Ruby: “Mother, don’t do this.” Anita: “You already made your choice, Red. You're one of us now. Act like it. Kill her.” Ruby: “No. I won't kill my friend.” Anita: “Then I will.” Ruby: “No. Mother, stop!” Anita: “Sorry, my daughter. This is what it means to be a wolf.” (Wolfstime approaches and by now Mulan has been backed into a corner. Anita transforms into her wolf form and stalks toward Mulan. Anita attacks but Ruby intervenes. In the process, the older woman accidentally impales herself on a spike. Anita transforms back into her human form with a spike jutting out of her chest.)

(Driving the other pack members away, Mulan picks up Ruby’s cloak and drapes it over her.) Ruby: (Now back in her human form, kneels beside her mother:) “I didn't mean to. I'm... I'm sorry, mother.” Anita: “You chose her.” Ruby: “No. I chose me. I'm not a killer.” (Anita passes away.) Storybrooke. Granny’s Diner. The Next Day. (Belle enters the diner, carrying the rose given to her by Mother Superior.) Belle: “Granny, have you got my lunch ready?” Granny: “Yeah, but, girl, you're gonna need more than that. Sit down for some real food.” Belle: “I can't. Oh, my god, look. (The last petal is on the stem:) Yeah, I have to get back to him. Just forget the soup. I'm sorry.” Granny: “Hang on, is it supposed to do that?” (The rose petals start floating back into place.) Belle: “What? He's waking up.” (Belle dashes out of the diner.) Mr. Gold’s Shop. Back Room. (Belle runs in to find Rumple's bed empty.) Beneath The Clock Tower. (The Darkness stares at Mr. Gold.) Darkness: “You know, he doesn't look too good... if I do say so myself. (Emma produces Neal’s shawl:) Quite a stroke of luck, you finding something that touched him when he was a man.” Emma: “Well I wasn’t going to call Hook back to Storybrooke to borrow something of his, now was I?” (Emma incinerates the shawl, leaving the ashes to fall on top of Mr. Gold.)

Mr. Gold's Shop. (Belle watches as the rose becomes whole.) Beneath The Clock Tower. (Mr. Gold breathes deeply and wakes up.) Mr. Gold: (Startled by the sight of Emma:) “What do you want from me? You are the Dark One now, not me.” Emma: “That's right. You are not dark. You are also not light. You are nothing. Your heart is a blank slate. And that, little man, makes you useful. (Kneels beside him:) Because now I can make you into the last thing you ever thought you would be. A hero. And not just any hero. The purest who's ever lived. And then... (Emma looks at the Darkness, who nods eagerly. Rumple looks confused at the empty space behind the Stone of Destiny:) And then I have a job for you.” 

The Enchanted Forest. (Ruby has buried her mother in a makeshift grave in the forest outside the den.) Ruby: “May you always run free beneath the moon's pale light. Goodbye, mother.” Mulan: “I'm so sorry. (Sighs deeply) This is my fault.” Ruby: “No. (Sighs:) My mother wanted me to choose between being a wolf and being a human.” (Sniffles.) Mulan: “What will you do now?” Ruby: (Pulling her hood up:) “You helped me find what I was searching for, it’s only right that I do the same for you.” Mulan: “But I don’t even know what that is.” Ruby: “Well, the pain of a broken heart took you from your path as a heroic warrior. Maybe returning to that path will help mend it?” Mulan: “I’ve seen enough of war and I won’t return to being a mercenary. Whatever path I choose, there must be honor in it.” Ruby: (Thinks:) “Perhaps you could travel from village to village, fighting wrongs wherever you see them.” Mulan: “Yeah. (Liking the idea:) Yeah, maybe I could.” Ruby: “And, if you didn’t mind the company, I could join you, as your partner?” Mulan: (Smiles:) “I think I’d like that.” (They turn and begin walking.) Ruby: “Hey, if Xena and Gabrielle can do it, why not us, right?” Mulan: (Confused:) “Who?” Ruby: “Oh, right. I forgot you don’t get television in this land.” Mulan: “Well, they sound interesting, can you tell me about them?” Ruby: (Chuckles:) “Well, in a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings, a land in turmoil cried out for a hero...” Storybrooke. Beneath The Clock Tower. (Mr. Gold is tied up as Emma stands before him.) Mr. Gold: “I remember how the Darkness feels. But you don't have to give in to it. You just... You could just set me free.” Emma: “The only one who can get me that sword, is you.” Mr. Gold: “I can't be the hero you want.” Emma: “Of course you can. You're like a dull knife sitting in a drawer. But don't worry. I have just the thing to sharpen you up.” Mr. Gold: “What?” Emma: “We'll call it my secret weapon.” 

Storybrooke. A Tunnel. (Emma walks towards her yellow bug, where she has Merida tied to the front.) Merida: “I should have trusted my gut when I first met you. You are a witch.” Emma: “I should have trusted my gut, kept that heart of yours.” (Reaches down and takes Merida’s heart again.) Merida: “Oh! Now you're gonna kill me? You coward!” Emma: (Takes away Merida’s ability to speak and releases her bonds:) “No more talking. Go pick up the bow. (Merida stands to obey the command:) You see, there's a guy I know. You wouldn't like him. He's a real coward. But for me to get what I want, that needs to change. I need you to make him just like you. I need you to make him brave.”

The End.

[artificialqueens]

Pride and Prejudice, Queens and Zombies Ch. II - Emma

AN- Hey guys! Thank you so much for your kind words on the first chapter, it really does mean a lot. I’ve been hesitant to post fics on here because you guys are all super talented, which sort of intimidates me since English is not my first language (I tend to get annoyed by my own works at times because they seem a bit… Mechanical? I feel like there’s some issues with general ‘flow’ in my texts). Also, this fic will deviate from the main plot of PPZ quite a bit, this is simply because I don’t want it to basically be like a copy-paste of the novel/movie. I would be very glad to hear your input on this, where you would like to see it go etc. Until next time, happy readings my doves!

” Ready?” Katya asked her sisters as they were to enter their battleground. Her machete glistened as she took one last glance at its clean surface before it was to be sullied by war. Because it was a war that they were fighting however noble the cause might sound from an outsider’s perspective, in the end it came down to basic survival. There weren’t many of them left, the undead had sullied their town and lives for as long as anyone could remember. The only option available at this point was to either fight or plummet to an immediate and gruesome death. Katya had no intentions of ever choosing the latter.

“Ready when you are.” Fame muttered, twisting her needle-like sword in her delicate hand. Katya nodded to Violet and Max before opening the doors. A stench met them like a brick wall, one that could only belong to the dead. Katya had seen many a’ battlefields, but the sight of people being torn apart was something that she hoped to never get used to. They were everywhere. As far as Katya could see, some of the servants had been turned as well, so they must have been infiltrated from inside.

She inhaled sharply and raised her machete. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered before heading inside, no fear left within her. The hall where everyone had been dancing and laughing just moments ago had been turned into a morbid place of death in a matter of minutes. Blood was everywhere, as well as body parts. Katya stepped over three young, dead men as she strode inside, noticing that someone had torn their hearts out. For all the young bachelors that had been hoping to find a lady they could give their hearts to, it seemed highly ironic that this turned out to be the way they would lose them in the end. ‘It’s damn near poetic’ Katya thought to herself, and then grabbed a woman by the shoulder. The zombie turned around, she had begun to decay at a rapid speed due to the amount of human flesh she consumed. A shriek emitted from her, Katya scrunched up her nose at the sight of hair and blood sipping down her mouth and onto her decaying chin.

With a swing of her blade, the woman fell. The deterioration of the dead was something that worked out in their favour, for the flesh and bones were much softer and easier to penetrate with a blade. Blood splattered onto her chest but Katya wore it as a coat of armour as she tore them down, limb by rotten limb. Her sisters made quick work of doing so themselves, Katya hadn’t even noticed that Max was standing beside her until a rotten corpse attacked her younger sister. Ready to interfere, Katya smirked as she saw Max decapitate the particularly rotten foe with a few chops of her sword.

Every time she swung her blade, someone fell to their permanent demise. Katya would never admit it to herself, but deep down, she enjoyed the feeling of cutting through flesh, the spurts of blood served as a confirmation that she was victorious. She killed them ruthlessly, and refused to treat them as human beings because in the end, she wasn’t looking at a person – she was looking at the thing that killed them.

—

Trixie stood a few feet away from the sisters after having just cut down the foes that came in her direction, she stared in awe at Katya. They were better than Trixie would have ever imagined. After years of hardship, the once soft-spoken girl that Trixie had been was turned into the hard shell of a woman she was today. When she had first met Katya, there was something about her that made Trixie’s heart pound. Naturally, to her at least, her immediate reaction had been to be nasty and cold. Like she always was. Finding an interest in people would just make it complicated when they were gone. After watching Katya fight, ignoring her seemed to be getting harder and harder.

Having stared at the slightly older blonde fight left Trixie in a reckless state. So reckless in fact that she barely even noticed when a stricken dragged himself towards her, a bony hand reaching for her ankle. She didn’t even look down until a shot was heard and the hand slumped against her foot. Trixie looked up, bewildered and saw Manila standing there, her gun still poised at the now permanently dead corpse. Not knowing what else to say, Trixie stared at her saviour and then muttered: “Nice shot.”

“You’re welcome.” Manila replied, lowering her weapon.

—-

Katya let out a bellowing shout as she pushed her machete through her final victim of the night. The stricken slumped to the ground in a jumble of disorientated bones, leaving Katya to roughly push the corpse away from her step. She grabbed the skirt of her dress and used it to wipe down her blade, the sullied surface of it having already begun to bother her. She turned around and patted her sisters on the shoulder, offering them some well-deserved congratulations on a successful cleanse. Out of the corner of her blue eyes, she saw Trixie standing in a corner with Manila and Raja. She smirked to herself before giving the staring woman a curt nod. ‘You don’t think of me as a damsel in distress anymore, do you Ms. Mattel?’ Katya mused to herself before nodding her head towards the exit, prompting her sisters to follow her outside. After this ordeal, she desperately wanted to get home. Mr. Donigan appeared from another door, obviously hoping to pay some form of gratitude to them, but they were already heading for the door when the frightened survivors began to reappear.

——

Two weeks passed, and Katya saw no more of Trixie Mattel and her cold stares. She held great victory knowing that she could prove the spiteful woman wrong, but there was still the gnawing feeling inside of her head telling her that there was more to Trixie than meets the eye. Fame and Mr. Donigan were constantly writing letters to one another, which bothered Katya more than she cared to admit. She would never deny her sisters of true happiness, but the thought of Trixie entered Katya’s mind whenever she saw Fame excitedly ripping open yet another letter from her suitor.

Her mind wandered to a point where she could no longer take it. Katya propositioned her sister Max and Fame to join her on a trip into town, hoping that would take her mind off things. As they rode in their carriage on their way into their small town’s square, Katya fidgeted with her light blue dress, uncomfortable with how innocent she looked. “Okay, can you just please tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been so moody lately.” Fame exclaimed in the seat opposite from Katya, making the Russian jump in her seat.

“What are you talking about? I’m always like this.” Katya protested, whilst knowing perfectly well what her sister was talking about. Max raised her gaze from the book she was currently delving into and offered Katya a kind smile. “I have to agree with her Kat, it does seem like something’s on your mind.”

Katya could never be mad at Max. The grey-haired girl was too kind for that. “I’m just exploring my senses; delving deep into the bottomless pit that is my mind, searching for answers that will explain what the warrior within me truly wants.” Her long explanation made her sisters roll their eyes, knowing that Katya usually leaned towards overly dramatic accounts that would confuse even the brightest of men.

“Lately, all she’s been craving is a cucumber sandwich, which if you ask me is a total waste of provisions. So, you’ll understand my disappointment.” She continued, smirking to herself as Fame and Max couldn’t resist giggling at her joke.

Once they arrived into town, they wandered around searching for a book that Max had been raving about for months. Katya regularly told her sister that she needed to get out into the real world instead of hankering down with her fictional novels, but the girl had told her once that ‘I know enough of the horrors that go on in the outside world, if I don’t explore the beauty of the fictional ones I would go insane’. There was no arguing that sentiment.

A loud horn rang through the town square, muffling the sound of hooves clacking on the pale cobblestone. Katya turned around and noticed several men riding through on horseback. They were redcoats, their pompous faces had always given her a reason to discretely roll her eyes. The militia usually kept to themselves, whenever they were around town it was usually to cleanse. By the looks of the heavy armoury they carried with them, this visit would probably be for that same exact reason. “I wonder if they’re here because of what happened at the dance?” Max whispered, pushing her round glasses up her nose.

“If they are, they’re a little bit too late. That’s why all capitalist systems fail, you know.” Katya informed her sisters, her cocked head and unapologetic facial expression made her sisters huff at her.

“Quit being such a wiseacre Katya.” Fame seethed. The red-haired woman had, along with the rest of Katya’s family, grown sick of Katya’s governmental commentary. It was Max’s fault really, since she had been the one to buy her a book on Henri de Saint Simon’s collected political ideas. Katya placed one of her thin hands on her chest and gasped, the feign in her insulted posture shining through by the twinkle in her blue eyes. “Blasphemy sister.” She replied, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Just because you spend all of your evenings writing love notes to Mr. Donigan doesn’t mean that the rest of us should simply forgo our education.” She continued, enjoying the fact that she made her sister’s face flush.

“I do not.”

“Ah, remember what Raja always used to say; little girls who lie get sent to the in-between.” Katya was enjoying teasing her sister so much that she didn’t notice when someone walked up to her. “Oh, shut up!” Fame snarled, sending a harsh shove in Katya’s direction. The Russian slipped away from her attack, chuckling as she turned around. The smile on her face faded when she faced the person that had been eavesdropping on them.

“The Gemini sisters! What brings you out here on this chilly afternoon?” Dan Donigan cheerfully greeted them, although both Katya and Max noticed that it was only Fame’s eyes he was searching for. Usually, Katya would have been offended whenever someone disregarded her for her beautiful adoptive sister, but seeing Mr. Donigan only reminded her of his cousin. A cousin that was hopefully somewhere far away.

Katya stared off into the crowd as Dan and Fame shyly flirted with each other, hoping to herself that she could keep from barfing out of contempt. If Violet had been there, they could have at least been in it together, however, the slim girl was hankering at home after Manila had promised that she would take her to see Pearl. Katya wondered if there was any mutual attraction there, but then again, what would she know about that? The only women Katya had ever been involved had been in and out of her life as quick as they came. Came being the operative word.

“So, Katya, I think you made quite the impression on my cousin – she was very impressed with how you handled yourself.” Dan directed his flaunting towards her, making Katya huff in disdain. It didn’t matter whether Trixie had taken a shine to her, it still did not change the fact that she was mean and spiteful much of the evening. “Oh really? What exactly did your cousin say?” Katya inquired, she wasn’t buying the concept of Trixie Mattel lowering herself and her high standards to the likes of her.

Dan peered around uncomfortably, making it abundantly clear to Katya that he was trying to salvage the good relations between the Geminis’ and himself after Trixie’s untasteful utterings at the dance. “Well, maybe not in so many words, but my cousin is tricky – she’s…” he started, but was interrupted by Katya waving her hand in front of her face.

“You are a very lovely man, Mr. Donigan – I only wish I could say the same for your cousin. There’s no need to make up for what she said, I’m sure there’s people who appreciate my scratched-up dresses and messy hair.” She further explained, hoping that he would put his attempts of reconciliation to rest. After all, it wasn’t Katya he was trying to court, it was her sister. Fame stared at Katya with bulging eyes, letting her know that she would be on the receiving end of a mouthful when Mr. Donigan was gone. “I personally consider it to be quite Avant Garde, if you’re not trying to differentiate yourself from everyone else – then you’re not doing fashion justice.” She added, deciding that she had proven her point.

Mr. Donigan simply nodded, baffled at her quick wit. “I- I must say that I wish she had been here for this. Now, as an apology, I would love to have you all over for dinner some time. Say in a fortnight? That will give me some much-needed time to loosen Trixie up a bit. Lord knows she needs it.” He rambled, a nervous chuckle erupting from his sweaty neck. Max offered him a comforting smile, she often turned out to be the strong shoulder everyone could lean on. Especially if they had just been on the receiving end of one of her sisters’ tantrums.

Katya looked over at Fame, and gave her a pleading look. She really didn’t want to go. In all honesty, there was little else that she wouldn’t do to get out of a dinner party with Trixie Mattel. Despite her best efforts of looking fragile and puppy-like, Fame graciously accepted Mr. Donigan’s invitation and then sent him on his way with some kind final words of gratitude for his persistence in making her obstinate sister feel more comfortable.

—

Having decided to sulk for the remainder of the day, Katya stomped through their estate when they returned home and went straight to bed without dinner. The Russian girl was very proud; some would claim that she was even hard-headed. In fact, most people would call her that. It wasn’t just the fact that Trixie had insulted her appearance, she knew her own worth well enough to not let that bother her – but for some reason it hit home. She had felt a sense of belonging when she met the stylish blonde, like there was some sort of consensus between them; so, hearing Trixie insult her so easily forced Katya to realize that she might have been wrong. She typically had issues with people that considered themselves to be so high and mighty, even though her own family certainly did not miss anything in their comfortable lives. Raja and Manila had taught them to be grateful of the opportunities that they had, Raja’s persistence in their training was a huge part in why they had turned out the way that they had.

Katya and her sisters had all been trained in China, as opposed to Japan where the wealthy typically trained their broods in the art of war against the stricken. Raja and Manila probably could have afforded the steep price of a Japanese education, but Raja was adamant that they would train where the wisest people were. Katya had thoroughly enjoyed her training; it was the first time she had felt at home. She had met another girl whilst they were away whom also originated from Russia. They had become immensely close, to a point where Katya had fallen in love with her. The girl, Eva, was both shy and weak. Those traits were not typically something that Katya looked for nor appreciated, but the other girl’s tenacity was what had sealed the deal for her. She remembered her flowing red locks that were laced with muddy streaks from the multiple falls she took during training. Despite of all this, Eva still got up and continued despite of the ridicule she had to face.

Unfortunately, Eva never returned her affections. Katya was glad that she still had a friend in her, until that fateful day where they had to train against actual undead. Eva had fallen, but there hadn’t been enough time to get her out. The masters had insisted that Eva’s death was an unforgiveable mistake of theirs, that things should have been more properly controlled – but Katya knew the truth. She had tried to help Eva, to let her know during battle that she needed to find a safe spot to rest on. The other girl had ignored her, and kept going despite of the fact that she had a deep wound on her right leg. It had ultimately turned out to be her demise. Katya had written a letter to her parents, but had never heard back from them. Why should they? She had been unable to help their daughter, and the undead had gotten her where she was supposed to have been safe.

She had spent a long period of time trying to forget about Eva and her sweet, soft face. Every woman she had met after that had in most aspects been the same as the bashful girl Katya had once loved, but she knew that had to stop. She needed to stop punishing herself when nothing good was ever going to come out of it. Eva was dead, Katya had made sure of that after they had gotten to whatever was left of her mangled corpse.

A light knock on her door echoed through the small room. Katya sighed and then grumpily called out; “I’m busy.”

“Darling, we just received an invitation from Mr. Donigan’s estate. He wants you and your sisters to join him and his cousin for dinner tomorrow.” Manila called from the other side of the door. Katya heard the exuberant excitement that Manila tried to repress for her sake, but the news she brought only made Katya groan in disdain nonetheless.

“Tomorrow? He said that he would invite us over in a fortnight so he would have some time to lodge the stick out of his cousin’s arse.” She grumbled, already planning the perfect excuse as to why she couldn’t attend.

“Yekaterina! Stop being so selfish, you will go for your sister’s sake.” Manila demanded, her tone indicating that Katya had no choice in the matter. “It will be alright, my love. Ms. Mattel does have a reputation for being a tad difficult, but I’m sure your charm can win her over in no time. If anything, loyalty from more than one person in their family is always a good thing.” Katya wanted no part in Mr. Donigan’s affair with her sister. Of course, she was happy for Fame but the family she was courting her way into seemed like it would be incredibly tiresome for the rest of them. She knew that she was being selfish, and she needed to make more of an effort. Even if that meant spending time with that dreadful blonde.

“Fine mother, I’ll go. Are you happy now?” Katya sighed, hoping that would prompt her guardian to go away.

“I will be if you behave yourself.” Manila retorted, now she was just pushing her luck. Katya said that she would go, promising to stay cordial was an entirely different matter.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

[maybemitch]

LETTERS FROM THE DEAD

DESCRIPTION: Folded pieces of paper, littered the top draw of Y/N’s desk.

WARNING: Implied character death. Mentions of deceased characters (Brody, Marlon, Mitch). Just a whole lot of death. Swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2252

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

When the news of Y/N dying broke, everyone in Ericson was in a sense of mourning. Everyone which was a member of the school - apart from Clementine and AJ - knew Y/N.

Y/N was a member of the school just as the dead started to work, yet their parents came and collected them right away. In a sense of protection. Therefore, because they came and collected them, the students left at Ericson didn't see Y/N for a while. That was until two years into the apocalypse. Y/N had remember their way back to the school and found themselves standing in front of the gates which were ever so familiar to them. Marlon was the one which saw them at the gate, his jaw drops. Marlon never thought he'd see Y/N again, but there they were standing, blood, sweat and dirt coating their skin, their weapons (which was a knife) in their hands. Most of the kids were surprised when they saw Y/N but welcomed them right back into the school wall.

Everyone in Ericson was in a sense of mourning because they always thought that Y/N would be one of the people which made it to the new world, they always fascinated about. They never expected them to get bitten. But then again, no one could control what happened in the world.

Violet was the one which suggested that they should bury Y/N's things like they did with Tenn's sisters. This would allow those in the school to go and mourn properly. Therefore, Violet and AJ were collecting Y/N's things and placing them into a box.

AJ opened up the draw to the identical desk he had in his dorm room, white folded pieces of paper slide side to side in the draws. Curiously, he reached for one, unfolding it, noticing, black and blue scribbles on it. Writing.

Violet noticed AJ's confusion when she turned around, her arms folding across her chest, "What you got there AJ?" her voice was soft. She was in pain for losing another friend.

AJ held the piece of paper up in the air, twisting it around, as if it was something unfamiliar to him, "It's some writing," unfortunately, the small boy couldn't figure out what was written on the paper, the handwriting was sloppy. Therefore, he held it out for Violet, "Can you read it?"

Violet walked over slowly, gently taking it from the boys hands. She inspected it. It definitely was Y/N writing. She knew that from the way which the letters were conjoined, it was something Y/N use to do in the class they shared together.

A small smile plastered on Violet's lips, before folding the piece of paper back up. The words left unread. How it should be.

AJ looked at her in confusion, "Why didn't you read it?"

"Its an invasion of privacy," Violet explained, the piece of paper clenched in her hand, "Y/N wrote them for themselves. I... I couldn't read their thoughts."

AJ nodded his head. He somewhat understood why Violet didn't want to read the letter. It was similar to the situation AJ was in when he first arrived at the school and tried to read Aasim's journal. The words which people write are sometimes private and only should be read if the person reading them allows it.

AJ looked back into the draw, noticing more folded piece of paper, before casting another look to the blonde who had her eyes closed. "Hey, Vi. What shall I do with the other letters Y/N wrote?"

Violet open her eyes, looking into the desk draw. There was around four folded piece of paper inside. All probably scribbled on with thoughts, with feelings which Y/N felt. Each one of these letters absorbed every piece of pain which lingered in Y/N's conscience. Violet couldn't bring herself to invade that.

"Past them here," Violet held out her hands. She didn't know where to put them. She didn't want to burn them - she might not want to read them, but someone in the future might. She didn't want to hide them away in the cupboard, they might be completely forgetting about then. Violet just didn't want to disrespect her deceased friend, they might have not been close when they were alive, but they were basically family.

"What are you going to do with them?" AJ asked as he placed the last one into Violet's hand.

Violet sighed, "But them somewhere safe, most likely. I can't get rid of them."

AJ continued to pack up the room, Violet had her hand on her pocket, ensuring that none of the papers fell from her pocket. The zip was broken, that the reason she didn't just zip them up. Whilst the two were packing up the room, they didn't speak much. The occasionally question came from AJ and the answer came from Violet.

Eventually, the room was packed away. It was as if the room had never been used before, not a single trace of human existence present inside the room.

Violet took a deep breath when she stood at the door, taking in the room. The curtains danced with the slight breeze which fluttered through, but that was all the movement in the room. For now and most likely for good. The blonde slowly shut the door, the click of the lock made her hear sink further into her chest.

"I'm going to find Clem," AJ announced to the girl which had her back pressed up against the shut door. "You can come with me, if you like. That's if you don't want to be alone."

Violet shook her head, pushing herself of the door, making her way towards her room, "I'm alright, little man. I'll come catch up with you in a little while? How's that sound?"

AJ nodded his head, lingering in his spot for a moment. He didn't want to leave Violet, he didn't want her to hurt by herself, but he couldn't connect to the pain which Violet felt, considering he only knew Y/N for a few weeks. A few weeks is nothing compared to years.

Violet waved AJ off, before opening her door and stepping inside. She didn't shut the door, she allowed the wind from the window to do it for her, the clock echoed in the room. A signal that she was now alone.

The first thing which she did was take out the letter scraps she had bunched up in her pocket. She lay they astray on the desk, not knowing where else she could put them. Whilst she paced around her shared room, her eyes kept drifting over to them.

An urge inside of her wanting to read them but the other half does not. Violet ended up bringing her hands to her mouth, nibbling slightly at her dirty nails and the skin around them, before caving into the temptation of wanting to know what ran through her friends mind.

"I'm sorry Y/N," Violet mumbled into the room, looking up at the sky, "Please forgive me."

She snatched the five notes on the table, before sitting down on her floor, her back pressed up against the metal bed frame. She unfolded them timidly, her hands shaking as she did so. Some letters were long, some were short. But Violet could already tell that each letter was written from the heart, that emotion had caved it's way into the writing.

Letter One:

We're not living in this world, its were surviving it. And that's the thing... surviving this world had (that’s the key word; had) been my plan. To outlive the dead had been my plan from the very beginning. But now, my main priority is making sure my friends survive. That's all that matters to me now. I couldn't care less what happens to me. If I get bit (which is a likely scenario) then I get bit. I don't want my friends to worry about me. Yeah, maybe somewhere in the world someone has survived an amputation to the infected limb, but I don't want to give them hope. If I get bit. Then that's it for me. That's the end of the line. With most all of my friends I have promised them that they'd get to see the new world. Some laughed, saying that it was a ridiculous assumption and that was never going to happen. My optimism seems to be funny to some, but that’s doesn’t bother me. Whilst some laughed. Some held hope that maybe I was telling the truth. But the things is, I am telling the truth. They’re going to make it to the new world. However, I won’t though. The new world isn’t for me.

Letter Two:

We welcomed new people into our home today. Their names were Clementine and AJ. They seem like nice people. They seemed to know how to survive the world. I don’t know how long they’ve been outside for, in the open world. But I know it’s been longer than me, longer than the other kids. Clementine and AJ seem like the people which would also make it to the new world. They both seem to know how to make it around this world. I would be envious of them, that they know how to survive, that they would make it to the new world. But in all honesty, I don’t mind at all.

Letter Three:

The small boy, AJ. He shot Marlon. And Brody. She's also dead. Apparently, Marlon killed her? I don't know what to believe. I thought they were nice. Fuck. We held a funeral for our friends. And afterwards, we held a vote for the two new comers. Violet, Tenn and Aasim voted for those to stay. I refused to vote. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What Marlon did was wrong, trade the twins, accidentally kill Brody. And what AJ did was wrong, killing Marlon. [a section which was unreadable] Clementine came back. AJ was wounded. They came across people in the woods which were looking for the school. We're preparing for a war. Maybe no one will see the new world after all? I know for a fact I wouldn’t be.

Letter Four:

Death came knocking on Ericon's door again, claiming the life of Mitch, after he heroically saved Tennessee. He didn't deserve it. The people which are at war with are called Delta. They took Omar, Aasim and Louis. Clementine promises to bring them all back from Delta. She promises that we will win.But what's the point of a victory if no everyone can celebrate? Either way. We’ve already lost.

Letter Five:

Fighting a war of tiring. I can’t do it. Fighting humans is different than fighting the dead. Humans. At the end of the day; humans are a dying race. Were being overpopulated by the dead. So why should we try and kill one another? There is no point in doing it. Clementine. She promised that we’ll get our friends backs. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Hopefully everyone comes back, so they can see the new world i’ve promised them. Delta. They’re evil fuckers people. What they did to my friends. What they did to Louis. They deserves to fucking burn. What I said earlier about us humans being a dying race, doesn’t matter. Delta. They. Fuck. Minerva was there. I saw her get bit on the cheek - I remember promising her the new world. After all, she did get one. But not the one which was meant for her. Not the one I promised. I suppose what I’ve been doing, giving promises out to my friends has been foolish? Selfish? I just wanted them happy. I didn’t want them panic. I just wanted them to be happy. But i’ve been meaning what i’ve been saying. About me not making it to the new world. I know that because... i was bit. Trying to escape the walkers on the beach. It was only a small graze on my ankle, a small bite. But it’s still infectious. I’m just sorry to my friends. I understand that this is going to cause them pain. But i’ve always vocalised that I wasn’t going to make it. And if they didn’t believe me, then they were foolish.

Violet placed down the letters. Her throat clenching from fighting the tears. She obviously knew that Y/N got bit. Violet was one of the people which didn’t believe what they said. She didn’t believe that Y/N wasn’t going to make it. So she was foolish.

Violet smiled, her eyebrows knitting together when she noticed something sprawled in the corner of one of the piece of paper. She wonder how she didn’t see it. But it was small writing.

Violet picked the paper back up, brining the paper close to her face, so she could read the rough writing.

Maybe I did make it to the new world? Maybe that’s what peace is? Maybe peace is the new world.

Violet smiled sadly at the words, a small tear falling. She quickly wiped it away, crying was never her thing, but after all, if she’s hurting, she’s going to let her emotions show.

“Of course,” she smiled, “Of course only you’d say that, Y/N.”

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

I don’t know how i feel about this piece of writing. I haven’t wrote in a while. But still.