#august's writing!

[aphelea]

a merry war (tiertice)

my fic for @keeper-big-bang-2024!!

check out the absolutely incredible art by @purplesoup-lad-le and @kingkrakie: here and here or read on ao3 here

Summary:

Sick of Tiergan and Prentice's rivalry, fiancées Della and Livvy—alongside Lord Bronte and Lord Fintan Pyren—create a scheme to convince each one that the other is in love with them. Meanwhile, Lady Gisela and her unmemorable sidekick are plotting to throw Eternalia into complete and utter chaos—but will Sophie and her friends be able to thwart them before they can ruin Della and Livvy's wedding? or: A Tiertice Much Ado About Nothing AU.

-

Tiergan knows the second the messenger arrives that he isn’t bringing good news. It’s not through any body language of the man himself, no—Tiergan has simply noticed a pattern with messages that arrive in his presence. He’s a bad-luck charm, of sorts. (Though Bronte would scold him if he heard him say that.)

In this case, the messenger arrives to him, Livvy, and Bronte eating dinner in the dining hall—Livvy, reading over a letter she had received that evening and Tiergan, pretending to be nose-deep in a novel. In reality, he’s attempting to read Livvy’s letter over her shoulder (for, although she won’t admit the identity of her “secret daily admirer,” Tiergan has his suspicions which he would have liked to have confirmed. Much to his chagrin, however, Livvy is one of only two people in the world who knows how to hide from his snooping.)

“My lord,” the messenger says, covered in dirt and grime and dripping like a wet dog all over the marble floors. 

Bronte, to his credit, maintains his composure, though his lips do twist into a slight scowl. “Yes?” 

The messenger procures a short note with ripped edges from his sack and leaves it on the table. “A message from the war camp, sir.” 

“Do they return?” Livvy says, scrambling up from her seat. “When? With whom? For how long?”

The messenger seems vaguely uncomfortable at the barrage of questions, but is thankfully saved by Bronte, who simply states, “Well. I suppose we should prepare some rooms, then.” He frowns, for a moment, then asks, “How many, exactly? Fintan has been frustratingly vague, as always.”

“It’s…rather up in the air, at the moment,” he replies, gaze flitting back and forth across the room. “There will likely be some extra guests coming along. Strangers to Eternalia, I believe.” 

And Tiergan suddenly feels the urge to bang his head against the table. 

Many times. 

Enough times, perhaps, to suffer a head injury that would send him to a physician far, far, away—conveniently for the duration of their guests’ stay. But alas, he cannot, and so he remains seated in silent suffering.   

There are indeed plenty of men at the border of Ravagog, protecting from the ever-present forces of King Dimitar. But few would, so soon after a victory, venture so far out of the way as Eternalia. A few containing Lord Fintan Pyren—whose inexplicable connection to the city leads him to visit Bronte at every possible occasion—and those who find themselves otherwise drawn to the young masters of Eternalia.

Drawn, theoretically, to a years-long effort to annoy Tiergan till his heart stops. 

“Tell me,” Tiergan cuts into the messenger’s speech on poor weather conditions, “is he coming back from the wars, or no?” He spits out the pronoun like spoiled food, and he frowns much the same. 

The messenger furrows his eyebrows. “Who?”

“The Keeper, as he insists on calling himself.” Truth be told, the name isn’t any more ridiculous than Granite, but Tiergan needs something to pick on. 

Bronte huffs and readjusts his cloak. “Who on Earth are you talking about?”

“He’s talking about Prentice,” Livvy replies with an amused grin. “Prentice Endal, and their little rivalry.”

Bronte purses his lips. “Right, of course. How could I forget? You two scare away all the animals in this city with your shouting.”

“His shouting. I’m perfectly rational,” Tiergan protests, and turns back to the messenger. “Now, is he coming, or not?”

The messenger glances between them, clearly alarmed by Tiergan’s sudden displeasure.

Livvy laughs. “He’s hardly serious. They’ve got some merry war going on between them, but they like each other all the same.”

Tiergan huffs, but says nothing. 

“Well,” the messenger says, apparently choosing not to press the subject, “yes, Sir Endal is coming along with Lord Pyren and Lady Vacker, I believe.”

“Wonderful,” Tiergan replies as Livvy grins widely.

Bronte, ever out of the loop, asks, “Lady Vacker?”

Discreetly, Tiergan flips Livvy’s letter over, hiding its contents, as Livvy hastily responds, “An old friend. She visited often, before…” She doesn’t finish her statement, but it is understood all the same. The days before Tiergan and Livvy had company in their studies and daily lives; the days before the Black Swan and Ravagog had been real, concrete forces. When Granite and Physic had existed in secret before their disappearances, never to emerge from their training. 

Bronte’s gaze shifts to Tiergan, eyebrows raised, but Tiergan only shakes his head. He has no way to accurately explain Della and Livvy’s relationship in simple terms; it would probably take a few days, an accompanying slideshow, and primary source evidence to even get the main points across. 

“We should begin preparing for our guests soon,” Tiergan says, before Livvy can admit anything too incriminating. 

Bronte seems far from keen on letting the subject drop, but he allows it anyway. “Yes, we should. Do try and spend some time with our younger guests while they’re here; I’d hate to bore them after all they’ve been through.”

“Of course,” Tiergan agrees, grimacing internally. “I’m sure that won’t be difficult.”

-

They arrive too soon, too early, and too many. 

Or, rather, two too many. 

It’s barely sunrise when the horses arrive, led of course by Fintan Pyren himself, dressed in a long, muddy blue jacket with red embellishments. Not too far behind him are, unfortunately, Prentice and Della, equally as dirty. And hidden in the back are two strangers Tiergan has never seen in his life. 

It appears that Bronte has, however, as he gives Fintan such an awful glare the moment he dismounts that Tiergan is surprised the man doesn’t burst into flames immediately. Tiergan, still exhausted from having been dragged out of bed mere minutes before, elects to hide behind Livvy to avoid any conversation. As fascinating as it would be to uncover another piece of Bronte’s shrouded backstory, it’s not worth the potential other complications that may arise. 

Alas, even Tiergan cannot always get what he desires. 

“Lord Bronte!” Prentice shouts, jumping forward and wrapping an arm around Fintan’s shoulders. “Pleasure to see you again.”

“Good grief,” Tiergan mutters under his breath. Livvy turns to offer him a smirk, and gets an elbow to the stomach in response. 

Bronte only nods. “Sir Endal. I’m glad to see you return safe and unharmed.” 

“That’s entirely against his own will, I assure you,” Fintan replies, gently removing the arm around him. 

“It’s true,” Della adds, sliding gracefully off her horse. “The ogres never feared his traps so much as they feared his ability to get us all killed in the process.”

Tiergan barely manages to suppress a snicker, but Della notices anyway, her eyes shifting toward his hiding spot in the shadows. Thankfully, however, she’s more captivated by Livvy standing in front of him, a blush dusting her cheeks. 

“Lady Vacker,” Livvy says, stepping forward to take her hand. “You look beautiful today.”

From Tiergan’s perspective, that’s a blatant lie—she’s covered in mud head-to-toe with a rain-soaked frizzy braid falling apart over her shoulder. But perhaps Livvy sees none of that. 

“Not as beautiful as you, milady,” Della replies, bringing her hand to her lips. And, as Tiergan had expected, it takes mere minutes for Livvy to take Della’s arm and remove her from the group under the guise of a “tour of the property.” The very property that Della has already seen more of that its actual lord has.  

“So…” Prentice begins, as they all watch the two leave. “They’re married?”

“No,” Bronte says. 

“Not yet,” Fintan says. 

Might as well be, Tiergan thinks. 

Prentice raises an eyebrow. “Hm. A strange choice. Certainly not one I’d make.”

“And you’re the model for respectable choices, now?” Tiergan can’t help but cut in. He’d hoped to spend his morning silent, but there’s only so much of Prentice’s nonsense that he can bear before he has to retaliate. After all, who else will?

Prentice smirks as Tiergan emerges from the shadows, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Well, if it isn’t the Lord of Disdain himself. Still living, shockingly.” 

Tiergan scoffs. “My disdain cannot die as long as I can picture your face in great detail.”

“Am I really so memorable? I hear it often, though usually under different circumstances.”

“Yes, well, I imagine audiences rarely forget their favorite fools.” 

Prentice rolls his eyes. “Such a pleasure, as always. It’s a wonder your face isn’t marred from all the punches you must be receiving.”

“I’d wonder the same, but truly even punches could not make your face worse than its current state.” 

“How is it,” Prentice asks, stepping forward, “that love could possibly be enough for my dear friend to look past the horror of you as a brother-in-law?” 

“Ha!” Tiergan replies, matching him. “It’s the folly of love, that everything should seem so rosy and sweet when it is all a waste of time. Though I would think you to be the expert, having experienced it tens of times over.” 

“If that were all love, then I would truly be a fool. No, I find myself with a hard heart, with no particular care for wasting my time, as it were.” 

Tiergan scoffs. “And thank God for that—you save a whole host of clowns from having to squander more than a day by your side. But in that respect, at least, we have similar thoughts. I’d rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.” 

“I seem to be interrupting something,” an unfamiliar voice says, snapping Tiergan out of his and Prentice’s shared universe. They both spin around to see Bronte and Fintan—who have clearly held some whispered exchange—and the two unfamiliar strangers that had arrived alongside the soldiers. One is a woman, dressed in a long, purple gown under a silver cloak, completely spotless. A variety of gems are pinned to her hair, though they seem to have seen better days. Beside her is a boy, not much older than Tiergan, wearing a matching outfit to Prentice if not far looser and far dirtier. His hair is blonde and overgrown, covering his eyes and leaving his face entirely unmemorable. 

“Good morning,” Tiergan greets, in an effort to revive some semblance of politeness. The woman only tilts her head and stares at him. 

“Lady Gisela,” Fintan hurries to say, gesturing to her. “This is Sir Tiergan.” 

Tiergan winces at the title, and Prentice raises an eyebrow, but neither corrects him. He nods to the woman, unsure how to approach the boy, who watches in rapt silence. 

Lady Gisela apparently notes his discomfort, as she says, “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s rather shy.” 

Tiergan doubts that that’s the case, but he’s hardly going to challenge her. In a few days, at best, she’ll leave, and hopefully take the nuisance that is the Keeper along with her. (Although, Tiergan can’t help but admit that he is a little bit excited to return to their battle of wits. Few people here are confident enough to confront him or clever enough to match him.) 

“Well,” Bronte says, clearly scowling, “hopefully he’ll feel more comfortable speaking once you are all safely inside your rooms. Which happen to be ready for your use. If you would be so kind as to follow these kind attendants over here…” He practically shoves Fintan toward them, and glares holes into Lady Gisela’s back as she walks away. Only Prentice lingers, just for a moment, mere centimeters away from Tiergan’s face. 

He leans in and asks, “Does your sister truly love Della?”

Tiergan raises an eyebrow. “For better or for worse, yes.” 

Prentice’s gaze flicks to the attendants and back. “I worry it will be for the worse.” 

“Then it will be our duty to prevent that.”

“I suppose.” He leans back, expression still wary. “You know, you’re still much the same man as you were before, Tiergan.” 

Tiergan laughs. “And you are frustratingly different.”  

“Such is my charm,” Prentice responds with a smirk. And then he is gone, disappeared to the side of Lord Pyren once more. 

Tiergan, for the first time, does not know what to think. 

-

Inevitably, Lady Gisela formulates a dastardly plan of escape a mere one hour into their stay at Eternalia. 

Ruy is not surprised; he has learned to assume that his boss is ten steps ahead of him at any given moment—though with this particularly humiliating prison, he had expected their grand scheme to take some more time. It does, at the very least, take a large amount of complaining. 

“He brings me here like a guest,” Gisela spits, “but I am leashed! We are leashed, and it is obvious to any person who sees us. Again, I am treated like a second to him. He leads the army that I created, that I built with my bare hands and he throws me away like I am nothing. What right does he have, to be shocked that I would switch my loyalty to the only side who values my genius? What right?” 

“They’ll never set us free, now,” Ruy agrees. “We’ll be zoo animals forever.” 

At this, Gisela laughs, in that perfectly calculated way that always sends shivers down his spine. “Only as long as the zoo can stay in business.”

Ruy stares at her blankly. “...Right,” he agrees, having learned not to question her too much. 

Gisela rolls her eyes. “We can tear this city apart from the inside.” 

“Of course,” Ruy agrees, still confused. “So…how, exactly?”

She smiles wickedly. “Well, Fintan has kindly delivered us two wonderfully easy targets. It’s come to my attention that the young masters of Eternalia hold a rather secret career beyond their familial duties. And with Fintan’s soldier being so ridiculously in love with the girl despite barely knowing her, it shouldn’t be hard to plant the first seed of doubt. Doubt, perhaps, that Eternalia isn’t quite as loyal as it seems.”

Ruy hums. “And if Fintan believes that Lord Bronte has been harboring a traitor all this time, their relationship will be destroyed. The elven army at Ravagog will crumble.”

“Thus allowing Dimitar a clear path to victory. And me, a clear path to take everything afterward,” Gisela finishes. “It is simple, and it is very little work on our part. It all relies on their own constant panic.” 

It’s so classically Gisela that Ruy can only grin. “Perfect.” 

-

Sophie hadn’t been meaning to eavesdrop. But she can’t help it if, in the process of delivering luggage to the guests, she stumbles upon a fascinating conversation. All she can really gather is that the two strange guests believe that a traitor is residing in the heart of Eternalia—but it’s enough to spring her into action. 

“Guys!” she calls, running to her shared quarters. “Get in here. I have a mystery for us to solve.”

-

The wedding is set the following day, although Bronte is still rather confused on how it all came about. 

“I’ve been in love with her since the day we met,” Della says, holding Livvy’s hand where they sit next to each other on a couch in Bronte’s office. Bronte and Fintan share the couch opposite, and Bronte is getting rather sick of Fintan’s laughing at his apparent lack of knowledge. 

“Nearly four years have passed since then,” Bronte states. “Why on Earth do you want to be married now?” 

“The war is, for all intents and purposes, over,” Livvy responds. “Della is safe. I would be safe, as her wife, as she is no longer a spy. And, of course, I have no association with the war myself. None at all.” She chuckles awkwardly, then tries to hide it behind her hand. 

Fintan sighs. “Bronte, I hardly see the problem,” he says. “They want to be married, so let them. I’d say their lives could have had far worse outcomes.”

For Fintan, it’s high praise—and Bronte is suddenly inclined to agree. If Fintan is truly unbothered, why should he mind? Livvy and Della are good for one another; they match each others’ attitudes and energies, and speak every word amongst them with pure devotion. Where Bronte himself was not afforded the luxury of happiness with his lover in his youth, he cannot possibly deny it to the girl he has come to see as his daughter. That is not a curse he is willing to continue. 

“You have my approval, if you ever truly needed it,” he finally says. “And if you wish to hold the wedding here, in Eternalia, you may.” 

Livvy and Della are beaming, with all the hope of young lovers. Bronte remembers that all too well. “Thank you,” Della says. “We wanted to hold the wedding soon, if you’ll allow it. Next week, actually. In order to minimize the chances of disaster occuring before it can take place.”

It is a smart move, Bronte has to admit, although he is entirely unprepared for the stress of planning a wedding. “Alright,” he agrees, “I’ll notify the staff. Although I imagine you’ll want to tell your brother first.”

It’s as if the tension in the room doubles at the mention of Tiergan. 

“Good grief,” Della says. “I’m far from enthusiastic to hear Prentice and Tiergan’s next discussion over this.” 

Livvy shakes her head. “It’s been a day, and I’m already sick of their nonsense. If they ruin the wedding with their antics, I may just have to exile them until they can find some semblance of optimism in their hearts.”

“In that way,” Bronte muses, “they are rather well-suited for one another. They see the same insignificance in everything but themselves, and each other. What a peculiar kind of hatred.” 

At this, Livvy’s eyes light up. “Perhaps that is our goal, then. Show them that they are, indeed, the only existing well-suited people for one another. That their hatred is so peculiar because it isn’t hatred at all.”

Fintan gapes. “You aren’t serious.” 

“But I am,” Livvy counters, the telltale lilt of mischief in her voice. “Would it not help our cause if the two guns ceased their constant fire?”

“And they respect only each other,” Della adds. “If each were to discover that the other had succumbed to that dastardly feeling of love, well, then, would they not be convinced to give it a try?” 

Bronte understands very quickly why they choose each other as partners in life. 

“If this works,” Bronte says, “it will be a blessing for the world. Complete silence, for the first time since their friendship, of sorts, began.”

Fintan snorts. “That is, if they do not kill each other within the first week of marriage.”  

Livvy shrugs. “Either way, our goals are achieved, are they not?” 

-

As Prentice trudges through mud to the stables, he contemplates his best friend’s sudden shift from battle-hardened, cold spy to a loving, carefree, wife. It’s something he had never expected to see out of Della. Of course, he’d known that she loved someone, having watched her write and receive letters nightly, but he had never imagined the relationship to be this serious. 

Personally, he can’t comprehend why she would be ready to bind herself to something so soon after being free of the Black Swan. Especially something so volatile as marriage. 

He’s halfway through the courtyard when he hears familiar, hushed voices from a bench nearby. The lovebird herself, it seems, alongside their host and Lord Pyren. Out of sheer curiosity (and maybe a bit of nosiness), he stops behind a tree and pretends to examine his hair in the reflection of his blade. 

“The trouble,” Della says, “will be finding a gift in time for the wedding. I have ventured into the city a few times, but nothing measures up to my standards for Livvy.”

“Such is the trouble with love,” Bronte replies, though he sounds rather pained. 

Fintan adds, “Indeed. In my youth I wasted half my money and half my time searching for adequate gifts for my lovers. Alas, they were rather particular themselves.” 

The response is a sound rather resembling a choking bird, though Prentice cannot see who made it. How strange, he thinks, as he has never known Fintan to be in love. Perhaps that had been another casualty of the war. 

“Right,” Della continues, after an awkward pause. “Well, I count it a blessing that I am not in the most difficult situation possible. I can’t imagine the difficulty Tiergan faces, what with Prentice’s luxurious tastes.”

What?

Prentice’s brain short-circuits. 

“So it’s true?” Bronte asks. “Tiergan is truly in love with the boy?”

Fintan chuckles. “I had thought them both to be sworn off of love forever.”

Yes, Prentice had thought so as well. That had been the sole opinion he had believed them to agree upon, but it seems even Tiergan has switched his loyalties now.

“Apparently not,” Della replies. “But it’s a pity that he’s chosen Prentice, of all people, as the object of his affections. The poor boy, in love with someone who cannot see anything beyond his own greatness. A true tragedy, if I have ever seen one.”

Prentice forgets to hide his scoff, but thankfully, they don’t seem to notice. What nonsense! 

“I love Prentice, I truly do,” Della continues, “but it’s a blessing to all that he’s so opposed to love. For all of his talents, he’s not at all suited to romance. No smart person would stay in love with him for longer than a week before realizing that the effort is worthless.” 

Entirely untrue, Prentice thinks. He rather likes to believe that his opposition to love is a choice—he could love, if he wanted to, and he would be damn good at it if he did. In fact, he had been in love, once before, and though external circumstances had clearly soured that relationship, he’s fairly certain he could have been the perfect husband. No, it’s a choice, now, to stay out of love, no reflection of his talents. After all, he is the greatest Keeper the Black Swan has ever known. Nothing is truly beyond him. 

And if Della, Bronte, and Fintan are convinced he cannot satisfy Tiergan, then so be it. Prentice will prove them wrong, as he always has. 

Tiergan will find loving him the most enjoyable experience of his life, Prentice is assured of it. 

-

Prentice is acting like an idiot, which really shouldn’t be surprising to Tiergan. 

“Hi,” he greets at breakfast, sitting down right beside Tiergan with a pastry in hand. “How are you?”

“I was better before you arrived,” Tiergan quips, expecting another clever remark in response. But when he looks up from his tea, Prentice is simply watching him, silent, with an absurd, giddy smile. “Good grief,” he says, “are you sick?”

“Are you?” Prentice counters, which…is complete nonsense. Both entirely out-of-character for the man and completely fitting. 

Tiergan rolls his eyes. “I’m perfectly well, thanks.”

“Indeed you are.” Now Tiergan has no choice but to gape at him, waiting for another, explanatory phrase to arrive. It does not. 

Tiergan stands abruptly, slamming his mug to the table. “It’s too early for this,” he mutters, storming out of the room to confused murmurs from the others seated at the table. He swears he hears Bronte giggle as he leaves, but that would be impossible. 

As he hurries up the staircase toward his bedroom, however, Tiergan finds himself in the company of furious whispers, coming from Livvy’s bedroom door, left slightly ajar. It’s rather odd; she tends to value her privacy, especially now as curiosity about the wedding grows. But as he approaches stealthily, Tiergan realizes that it isn’t Della inside with her. 

“Cyrah,” Livvy says, “I’m truly glad you’re able to visit, even if you’re unable to attend the wedding. You know how much it means to Della and I, I’m sure.” 

Tiergan furrows his eyebrows. Since when has Cyrah been in Eternalia? Although the three of them had been childhood friends, years ago, Cyrah had left to travel the world immediately after they had finished their schooling. She does visit, from time to time, but rarely with so little notice. 

“Well, of course I’m here for you,” Cyrah replies, “but I have to say I was mostly captivated by the other contents of your letter.”

Livvy laughs. “It’s certainly the most fascinating piece of gossip to reach Eternalia in many years.”

“I’ll say. The possibility of seeing our Tiergan married is absurd. And to Prentice Endal, no less.”

Tiergan tries his best to choke quietly. He fails. 

There is a terrifying pause before they continue that leads Tiergan to believe that they’ve noticed his presence, but thankfully, Livvy carries on without remark. 

 “It’s truly a tragedy,” she says, with a slight laugh, “that Prentice has set his sights on Tiergan. I almost feel bad for him; it’s a hopeless endeavor.” Cyrah hums in agreement. “Yes, but I doubt Tiergan will ever notice. The poor boy’s entirely clueless.”

Livvy snorts. “That, and he’s entirely incapable of being kind to anyone beyond us. His first reaction is always to bite without thinking, to shoot to kill before questioning himself. Prentice has done well to match his strikes so far, but there is only so long that he can hide his affections.”

“Ah, unrequited love,” Cyrah sighs. “Well, I imagine he’ll come to his senses soon enough. He’ll find someone less bitter about life.”

“One can only hope.” 

Tiergan is left absolutely reeling. He gapes at her door for at least a minute, unsure what to believe. But it does make sense, he has to admit. Prentice’s…affections would certainly explain his odd behavior that morning, and his offense at Tiergan’s immediate snarky greeting. But why would Prentice be so foolish as to love Tiergan, of all people? Livvy is correct on the count that Tiergan has done nothing but snap at the man. There had been a time, years ago, when Tiergan would have understood such a development of emotions, but now it seems entirely ridiculous. 

Perhaps, Tiergan thinks, he could stand to be a bit kinder to Prentice, for once. If only to give him a bit of relief. 

When he returns to the dining hall later that day for lunch, he pointedly seats himself beside Prentice, who looks both utterly perplexed and overjoyed. “Good morning,” Tiergan greets, shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth. 

“It’s afternoon,” Prentice replies, and Tiergan raises an eyebrow. “But good morning to you, as well.”

Tiergan pretends not to notice the laughs that Della, Livvy, and Cyrah hide behind their napkins. If they believe him to be too bitter to love Prentice, then so be it. He will prove them wrong, as he always does. 

Prentice will stay in love with him, if Tiergan has any say in the matter. 

-

“It has been done,” Ruy announces as he steps into Gisela’s chambers. “The cache has been planted.” He sweeps some dust off his jacket, seating himself on the couch beside her desk. 

Gisela nods. “Good,” she says. “Now, we wait.” 

-

From their hiding spot beneath Gisela’s window, Tam, Linh, Marella, Keefe, and Sophie share a wary glance. “These are the people who are trying to catch a traitor?” Linh whispers. “They’re kinda… weird.”

“I feel like we should be concerned,” Tam notes. 

Sophie shrugs. “Bronte wouldn’t have let them in if he thought they were trouble. I think.”

“Yeah, but these two seem weirder than the others,” Marella says. “Have you seen how quiet they are all the time? I thought they were just dealing with war stuff or whatever, but this is, like, extra weird. Plus, what’s with that whole scheme thing you were telling us about earlier?”

Sophie pauses. “I don’t know. I thought they were talking about Lady Vacker being a traitor, but now that she’s marrying Livvy, I don’t think that’s true.”

“Livvy wouldn’t marry a traitor,” Linh agrees. “I mean, she wouldn’t marry anyone without checking their entire life history first, I think.” 

“But then why would these guys want people to think that Lady Vacker is a traitor?” Marella asks. “That’s stupid. It would ruin the wedding.”

Tam sucks in a breath, prompting them all to turn to him. “That’s exactly why,” he says, eyes wide with realization. “They want everything to be chaos here. That’s what he’s talking about—Bronte’s cache! Something only Livvy, Fintan, and Tiergan know the location of. It’s basically a safe containing classified war documents and plans of Eternalia. They’re not framing Lady Vacker, they’re framing Livvy! And if they act like she’s stealing the cache…”

Sophie pales. “Then everything goes to hell.” 

“Random question,” Keefe cuts in, “but do you think I’d be fired if I didn’t deliver someone’s mail?”

They all stare at him. 

“Like, intentionally,” he adds. “Kind of like stealing it. But not really. Just really, really, slow delivery.” 

Marella snorts. “I mean, I’m all for it, but why?”

Keefe leans over and pulls out a sealed letter from his coat pocket. “Here. A letter from Lady Gisela to some guy at the warfront. Seemed kind of suspicious, so I kept it.” He hands it to Sophie, who handles it as gently as possible. 

“Should we…” she asks, almost afraid to suggest the possibility. 

“Read it?” Tam asks. “Yeah, obviously.” He takes the letter from Sophie and inspects it, tracing over the nearly illegible name on the front. “But not here. We need to get inside and warn someone before it’s too late.” 

“But we can’t do that without proof,” Linh says. “And right now our only proof comes from things we’ve done that are completely illegal.”

Marella sighs. “I guess we’ll have to hope that the letter says something interesting, then.” 

And with that, they slip away from their nook, panic setting in. 

-

In the middle of the night, Della is woken violently by a frantic Fintan shaking her, and Prentice at the foot of her bed. “Good morning?” she asks, pushing Fintan’s arm away from her. 

“No time, Della,” Fintan says, stepping back, “this is an urgent matter.”

“What could honestly be urgent enough to drag me out of bed the night before my wedding?” She’s both thankful and annoyed that she and Livvy had been given separate rooms, now—at least Livvy can get her beauty sleep while Della deals with her friends’ nonsense. 

“Your fiancée,” Prentice states simply, and Della raises an eyebrow. 

“Is this some kind of wedding ritual?” 

Fintan scoffs. “Perhaps for her it is.”

“You should see for yourself,” Prentice says, and it’s his unsettling calm that ultimately drags Della out of her bed, suddenly shaken. 

“Where is Lord Bronte?” she asks as they tiptoe down the dark hallway. “What is happening?”

Fintan shakes his head. “I haven’t spoken to him just yet. I worry that he, too, may be involved.”

Della furrows her eyebrows. “Involved in what, exactly?”

A heavy silence lingers, for a moment, before Prentice says, “Treason.” 

Treason. “You believe Livvy to be a traitor.”

“I know for certain,” Fintan replies, voice grim. “I trust Gisela’s judgment on very few matters, but in this case, the proof is indisputable.” 

Della feels her own heartbeat, now, racing out of her chest. “What proof does she have?”

“A stolen cache,” Prentice says. “Classified papers, attempted to be mailed. Some of it being…” His voice cracks, something close to tears welling in his eyes, and he looks away. “Some of it being details of your involvement in the war and prior.”

And Della freezes in her tracks. No, she thinks. Livvy wouldn’t. I know she wouldn’t. But after nearly two years apart, how can Della truly claim to know her at all?

They reach Gisela’s chambers, where Della is handed a series of papers and testimony from both Ruy and Gisela of Livvy’s betrayal. Ruy has brought a friend, as well, a young servant named Rayni, who describes her own witnessing of Livvy’s theft of the cache. It’s all entirely sickening, and Della has to dig her nails into Prentice’s arm in order to keep herself from vomiting. Her head is swimming. She cannot breathe. 

“But what can we do?” she manages to ask, after everything is presented. “What can I do?” 

Prentice and Fintan share a hard look. “There is no choice,” Fintan says, with a deep sigh. “We must end the wedding, before it is too late.”

-

 On the morning of the wedding, Tiergan is all alone—Prentice is, oddly, nowhere to be seen, and Tiergan’s almost disappointed at the lack of a witty morning greeting. He’d been hoping to have someone interesting to speak with during the wedding preparations, seeing as everyone else is more concerned with assembling the brides’ gowns and hair. Tiergan and Prentice, of course, had been banned days ago from assisting directly with the wedding preparations, as, according to Della, they’re “far too clumsy to be trusted, alone or together.” 

Strangely, however, Tiergan hasn’t seen any of their guests the entire day. He almost goes to check Prentice’s bedroom, but decides that he hasn’t quite reached that level of desperation yet. And, of course, he wouldn’t want to give Prentice the impression that he returns his feelings. Absolutely not. 

He’s almost worked himself into a panic by the time he walks into the marriage hall, worried that perhaps Della has abandoned the wedding entirely. Thankfully, she waits at the podium up front, looking strangely pensive—though he has to admit, she is dressed nicely. 

Tiergan scans the rows for Prentice, but he is still, oddly, nowhere to be found. 

“Sit,” Bronte suddenly tells him, holding a glass of wine. “Livvy will arrive soon.”

“Where is Prentice?” Tiergan asks, and Bronte raises an eyebrow. 

“He and Fintan have yet to arrive,” Bronte replies. “Hardly surprising. Fintan may take years before he is fully satisfied with his appearance.”

Tiergan can’t say the same about Prentice, although he concedes that the man hardly needs to spend time to look nice. Prentice is naturally infuriatingly beautiful, even after sleeping in the dirt or riding for hours through a rainstorm. He could be covered in sewage and that damned smirk would still make him appear heavenly. Tiergan despises that. 

The music begins a half-hour later, and every seat except for the other front row across the aisle from Tiergan is full. Livvy strides down the aisle, her gem-studded dress flowing majestically behind her, and Della turns ever so slightly. Tiergan wipes away the tear in his eyes, and he can see Bronte doing the same. He wonders, still, where Prentice is, but decides that he trusts him enough to see to his own whereabouts. 

“Hi,” he hears Livvy whisper to Della upon reaching her. “You look beautiful.”

Della’s gaze is trained to the floor. “Thank you,” she murmurs. There is something odd about her voice, Tiergan thinks, but he cannot determine what emotion it is. Perhaps this is love; he can’t say he’s ever seen the feeling through long enough to reach this point. He wouldn’t understand. 

An old man steps up to begin the ceremony, but he says nothing. He only stands between the two women, biting his lip and staring at the grand doors at the end of the hall. 

“Good afternoon,” he begins, and his voice is so shaky Tiergan worries he may cry. “We are here—”

The doors slam open, and with it a scream: “End this nonsense!”

Tiergan jumps up, hand shifting to his blade, but Livvy beats him to the chase. She holds out a knife, hopping off the podium where Della remains, frozen. 

But the man who emerges from the hallway is neither intruder nor ogre.

“Fintan!” Bronte barks, moving to stand beside Livvy. “What is the meaning of this?”

Lord Fintan Pyren struts down the aisle; behind him, Prentice, Lady Gisela, and the blond boy march silently. Tiergan suddenly finds himself nauseous. What does the fool think he’s doing?

“Bronte, my dear friend,” Fintan exclaims dramatically, “you truly believe that Lady Vacker is deserving of this girl?” 

Bronte scowls, but stands his ground even as Fintan stalks closer. “Wholeheartedly.”

Fintan scoffs. “Then you are either foolish or a liar, and neither is worth my time.”

“I don’t understand,” Livvy says, glancing between Fintan and Della, who still has not moved. She only stares at the floor, tears welling in her eyes. 

Fintan spins to her, a fire growing in his glare. “Don’t you, Miss Sonden? I’m inclined to believe that a spy will always deal in lies. After all, you’ve built a marriage out of them.”

Some of the guests gasp, while most look on in complete horror. 

Tiergan steps forward. “Do not insult her,” he spits.

“These are only facts,” Fintan replies. “Is it not true that she has been a spy for the Black Swan since she was a teenager? Is it not true that she has files on nearly every person who passes through Eternalia? Is it not true that she accesses highly classified files on the daily, without the knowledge of any other member of the war effort?”

Livvy stumbles, and Tiergan rushes to catch her before she trips on her own gown. “I…That is not…” 

But she cannot deny it, Tiergan knows. Though he wonders what on Earth leads Fintan to mention this now, when Della has done far worse in her equally long lifetime. 

Fintan presses forward. “And is it not true that you initiated a relationship with Lady Vacker for the sole purposes of obtaining her incredibly classified records and sending them to King Dimitar himself?”

What?

Tiergan grips Livvy’s hand tighter to avoid doing anything he might regret. He meets Prentice’s eyes, from across the room, and is surprised to find some sort of sympathy. Prentice, unlike the two who flank him, seems strangely unsure of his position now. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Bronte shouts.

“Have you?” Fintan replies. “You harbor a traitor in your midst, and you protect her!” 

Bronte scoffs. “And where, exactly, is your proof for such a preposterous claim?”

Fintan pulls out a small, metal container from inside his cloak, and holds it out in front of him. “This was found in her room, its contents strewn openly across her desk.”

Bronte sucks in a breath, and Tiergan suddenly understands what this is. A cache. Not only that—Bronte’s cache. 

He turns to Livvy, unsure what to think. He knows, as he has always known, that Livvy is loyal. This must be something different. This must be some misunderstanding, he has to believe that.

He looks back at Della, waiting in vain for an explanation he knows will not come. 

Della meets his eyes, and then meets Livvy’s teary gaze with one of her own. “This shame will haunt you, Livvy. I hope you will never be free from your guilt,” she states, her voice tinged with disgust.

“I…I don’t understand,” Livvy repeats, her voice weak, and Tiergan’s heart breaks. He holds her tighter, stepping away from the scene. 

Bronte turns around, and Tiergan can sense his disappointment. He believes Lord Pyren. Of course, it is to be expected, but Tiergan cannot help but feel betrayal. Once again, it is he and Livvy against the world. 

“This is madness,” Tiergan spits, staring right into Prentice’s eyes where he stands, silent. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” 

Then he drops Livvy’s hand and storms out of the hall, anger blazing. 

-

Perhaps following Tiergan out of the hall is a mistake, but Prentice chooses not to dwell on that. 

It takes nearly half an hour to find him, given Tiergan’s far better knowledge of the building. Prentice keeps his ears open to the sound of screaming, or glass shattering, but none come—instead, he stumbles upon a grand balcony with its door ajar, accompanied by the noise of muffled tears. 

“Tiergan,” Prentice asks gently as he slips onto the balcony, “have you wept all this while?” 

From where he sits upon a bench, staring out at the vast blue sea, Tiergan sniffles and replies, “And I will weep a while longer.” 

Prentice stares at him, unsure how to respond. He watches as another tear graces Tiergan’s cheek and onto his jacket, disappearing into the deep blue fabric. “That is…unfortunate,” he tries, and Tiergan snorts. 

“Luckily, I do not weep for you,” he says. He looks up at Prentice with an uncharacteristic despair in his eyes, something so entirely hopeless that Prentice steps forward and rests a hand on his shoulder in some strange desire to share his sorrow. 

“I am sorry about your sister,” Prentice says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can think. “I mean it. I am trained to follow Fintan’s every order, yes, but I also let my fear get the best of me. I should have trusted you, Tiergan. I know that now.”

Tiergan only stares at him, silent, for a long while. Finally, he says, “I have run out of ideas to help her, myself. I suppose, now, I must seek a friend who can right this mess.” 

Prentice frowns. “Is there a way to show such friendship?”

Tiergan sighs. “There is a way, but no such friend. I worry there is no person in the world who is willing to see it through.” 

He turns to meet Prentice’s eyes, and for a long moment, they hold each other’s gazes, locked in a cycle of desperation and something distinctively different. From this distance, Prentice sees how much of a mess Tiergan truly is—his blonde hair has nearly all fallen out of its intricate style, and his eyeliner is smudged over his cheeks. His lips, too, have been bitten raw, an old habit of his that Prentice has not seen in years. 

He remembers, instinctually, that feeling of rough lips on his own—a feeling he has not allowed himself to dwell upon for what seems like a lifetime. 

“Tiergan,” Prentice begins, forcing himself to look away. He cannot bear to witness the consequences of his own confession, even with the knowledge of Tiergan’s own feelings. “You must be aware…I do love nothing in this world so well as you.” 

He waits expectantly for an exclamation of reciprocation, but none arrives, and the silence forces him to turn back around and meet Tiergan’s indecipherable expression. “Is that so strange?” Prentice adds, hoping he hasn’t shocked the man speechless.

“Perhaps it is,” Tiergan replies, not meeting his eyes. “Though, perhaps… perhaps it would be stranger for me to admit that I love nothing so well as you.” He stands up abruptly, and begins pacing with such a strange fervor that Prentice almost misses half of his words. “If that were true, I mean. But of course it is, I do not lie. Still, you mustn’t believe me! I confess nothing; I confess nothing at all, do not mistake me…but I deny nothing all the same. I can neither confess to nor deny nor admit to my feelings—these feelings that may or may not exist. For you.”

 Prentice raises an eyebrow. “So you love me, then.” 

“That is not what I said,” Tiergan huffs, but steps closer to him all the same. 

“You said you could not deny that you love me,” Prentice counters. “That would imply that you do.”

Tiergan moves forward, stopping mere inches away from Prentice. “And yet, I recall saying that I could not confirm it, either.” 

 “And yet,” Prentice mimics, “I am entirely certain of your feelings. I would stake my life on it, even.” 

Tiergan scoffs. “Then you should count your days, soldier.”

Prentice steps ever-so-slightly closer, until he can feel Tiergan’s breath, cool on his cheeks. “Strangely, I don’t find myself worrying.” 

Tiergan kisses him softly; it is light and quick and perhaps salty with dried tears, or perhaps sweet with familiarity, or bitter with the revival of old memories. It is every emotion Prentice has felt since the day he first met Tiergan wrapped up in a moment; it is their short-lived civility, their years-long personal war, their shared fears of the war destroying them, inside and out. 

When they separate, they are both speechless. 

“I…” Tiergan begins, but trails off, unable to formulate a word. 

Prentice grins. “Is this an admission that the great Granite himself, master of wit, has run out of protests?”

Tiergan laughs. “Or, perhaps,” he says, taking Prentice’s hand in his, “it is an admission that I love you with so much of my heart that there is none left to protest.” 

Prentice takes his other hand and falls to a knee, looking up at Tiergan for the first time. “Tiergan, my love, tell me what you wish me to do for Livvy, anything, and I will do it. I swear.” It is more an oath of love, than anything; he does not know what he is expecting in response, but it is certainly not the answer that comes without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Kill Della.”  

Prentice cannot help it; he scrambles backward, dropping Tiergan’s hands like hot coal. “What?”

Tiergan shakes his head. “It is simple. You asked; I gave my answer.”

“I cannot betray my friend!” Prentice protests. “Just as I cannot betray you, Tiergan. Ask  me for anything else, I beg of you.”

Tiergan turns away. “There is no other option. We can claim Livvy’s innocence, but we have no sufficient evidence to counter theirs. If you duel Della, you show that you are willing to risk your life for Livvy’s honor. And your word is far more prestigious than mine, what with the fame you carry from the war, still.”

“Tiergan. I cannot.”

He scoffs. “I see. You love me, but you will not fight my enemy.”

Prentice strides forward, taking Tiergan’s hand once again. “Is Della truly your enemy? Is she truly who you wish to fight?”

Tiergan whips around to face him, a cold determination in his gaze. “She has scorned my sister so greatly that she likely cannot leave her rooms ever again! She dishonors my family and our very name. She is so consumed by fear that she will let it destroy the happiness she has fought for herself. Yes, indeed, Della is my enemy. Because I trust Livvy over the world, and I cannot stand to watch her be slandered.”

“And I trust you,” Prentice says. “I trust you over the world; I would fight for you through hell and back, through the roughest waters and the strongest storms, through the apocalypse and beyond. And so, Tiergan, if you are sure…” He takes a deep breath, unsure what to think about the very words he is about to say. “I will fulfill your request. Della shall face our wrath.” 

He squeezes Tiergan’s hand just once, a familiar assurance, before marching away with a new focus. If this is love’s folly, he thinks, then he will die for it willingly—a strange realization, but a welcome one. 

When he finds Della, she is in her room with Fintan, furiously gathering her possessions.  

Fintan notices him first. “Prentice, finally. We must devise a plan for dealing with this treason. I worry the girl here is not the only criminal.” He spits girl as if it is a dirty word, as if Livvy’s name cannot dare to be mentioned in good company. 

“So you believe it?” is all Prentice says in response. 

Della laughs, with no humor behind it, only tears. “What is there to believe? There is evidence, and that evidence points to everything I should have expected from the beginning. I am surprised, though I shouldn’t be. I cannot be.”

“You are quick to fear and quicker to discard,” Prentice says, stepping away from her. “Characteristics of a spy, not a lover.”

Della raises an eyebrow. “And you understand the characteristics of a lover?”

“More than you, it seems,” he replies. “If you will not fight for Livvy, then I will take your place.”

Fintan scoffs, and Della’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious,” she says, hand moving to her blade. 

Prentice holds her gaze. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow.”

-

News travels quickly among servants, most especially when Marella is involved. It takes only a few hours for every detail of the wedding disaster to reach each corner of the grounds; Sophie, Keefe, Tam, and Linh are lounging in the warm sun when Marella finds them with the story, excitement in her eyes. 

“The letter!” Sophie suddenly exclaims, remembering yesterday’s chaos. “We never showed anyone the letter, guys.”

Keefe pales. “Oh, shit.”

Tam pulls the paper out from his pocket, skimming it quickly. “Oh, shit,” he agrees. “Yeah, this makes more sense now.”

Although they had read the letter the day before, it hadn’t made much sense. It detailed some plan of Lady Gisela’s, but none of them had been able to decipher quite what the plan was. And when a day had passed without incident, showing the letter to anyone hadn’t seemed like a priority. (Especially since they could all get fired easily for the stunts they’d pulled.) 

 “We need to find Lord Bronte,” Linh said, reading over Tam’s shoulder. “We can prove Livvy’s innocence with this!”

Marella nods. “He’s still in the wedding hall, I just passed him. I’m pretty sure Gisela and that blond kid ran, though. Everyone I asked says they haven’t seen them since the wedding this morning.”

“Where’s Livvy?” Sophie asks. 

Marella shrugs. “There’s different stories going around right now. Most common one is that they threw her in a cell, for now. No clue what they’ll do after that.”

Tam jumps to his feet. “Then we need to show Bronte this letter, now. Before it’s too late for her.”

Linh hands him the letter again. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

-

“What is the meaning of this?” Fintan asks as he strides into the meeting hall. Beside him is only Della; Tiergan can’t help but feel a smug satisfaction at the strength of his own numbers. He and Prentice stand with Bronte, and Livvy sits on the stairs in front of them. A group of teenagers also stands with them, who—as Tiergan is told, at least—hold the key to proving Livvy’s innocence. 

He watches Della’s steps falter as she notices the exhaustion on Livvy’s face. Good. Her guilt is deserved. 

“Who are these children?” Fintan asks, scowling at the servants. “What more could you possibly have to say, Bronte?” 

Bronte sighs. “Cease your incessant questioning, Fintan, and listen for once in your life. It seems I am not the one who has been betrayed.” 

Fintan stops in his tracks. “What are you suggesting?”

Bronte motions for one of the children to hand Fintan the letter they’ve been holding. Fintan takes it reluctantly, and they all watch with bated breath as he and Della read through it carefully.  

After just a few seconds, Della pales, and steps back with a hand over her mouth. “No,” she says, her voice weak. 

Even Fintan seems strangely haunted as he looks up from the paper. “Gisela,” he spits, crumpling the paper in one hand. “Of course she would lie. Had I realized she was so deeply involved with the ogres, I wouldn’t have brought her here, I wouldn’t have—” He gestures wildly around the room, while Della remains frozen still. 

“Livvy,” she cries, after a long moment. “My love. I cannot apologize enough.”

“No,” Livvy agrees, “you cannot.” 

Prentice steps forward, taking Tiergan’s hand in his own. “Della, I did not lie to you in my challenge. I am no hypocrite; I know that I, too, was deceived by Gisela’s tricks and lies. But her schemes worked only because they capitalized on our fears. She knew that Ravagog lives within us, even here, hours away.”

Della looks away, blinking away tears. “I have not lived a day without fear in years. I was a fool to believe I could return to life in Eternalia without complication.”

“We were all foolish,” Livvy says, moving to stand. “Had I been more open about my involvement in the war…”

“There are many things we could have done,” Bronte says, stepping down in front of Fintan. “But it is Gisela who is the fool. She runs to Ravagog, unaware that Dimitar has received none of her correspondence. I sent guards to her the moment I learned of her betrayal. She will not survive long, on her own.” 

Fintan nods. “I will write my men as well. She will know no peace anymore.” He and Bronte share an indecipherable stare, silent for an awkwardly long amount of time. 

Tiergan squeezes Prentice’s hand. “Well. I am glad, at least, that no secrets remain. Certainly, it’s a weight off of my shoulders.” 

He doesn’t expect his statement to increase the tension in the room tenfold. 

Della, Bronte, Livvy, and Fintan suddenly all turn to look at each other, a variety of awkward chuckles, pale faces, and wide eyes between them. They seem to communicate telepathically, almost, and Tiergan turns to Prentice with raised eyebrows—but he only shrugs. 

“About that,” Livvy says, after a long moment. “There is…something else.”

Her voice is so serious that Tiergan has to laugh. “Livvy, there is no secret of yours that I do not already know. Although I appreciate your valiant efforts at keeping Prentice’s feelings a secret from me, you failed tremendously.”

He turns to Prentice, expecting a sheepish expression, but is met with complete and utter shock. “My feelings?” Prentice asks, incredulous. “You fell in love with me! Lord Pyren said as much—”

The realization hits them both at the exact same time. 

Tiergan turns, very, very slowly, to Livvy, well aware that his glare is practically murderous. “Livvy,” he says, “explain. Now.” 

Livvy runs behind Della, which Tiergan supposes is deserved after the fiasco of the morning.

   “Well,” Della responds, clearly uneasy, “it doesn’t quite matter anymore, now that you two are clearly in love.” 

“I am not in love with him!” Prentice protests, and Tiergan scoffs. 

“The feeling is very much mutual,” he spits, dropping their joined hands. He glares at Fintan and Bronte, who watch them with barely concealed amusement. 

Prentice whirls to face him. “You confessed only hours ago the exact opposite.”

“As did you, if I recall correctly.”

Prentice huffs. “Well, perhaps I lied.”

Tiergan crosses his arms. “Perhaps I lied.” 

Prentice moves to add another childish retort, but is cut off by one of the teenagers clearing their throat loudly. 

“Um,” the blond one says, shrinking as all eyes in the room land on him. “Well, um, I kind of have proof to the contrary. You know.” He holds up two slips of paper in his hands—one of which is, unfortunately, far too familiar to Tiergan. 

The girl beside the blond boy elbows him in the side. “Keefe!” she scolds. “You can’t keep stealing stuff.”

“I don’t know,” says a boy with bangs, “it’s kind of working out for him, isn’t it?”

Livvy runs over with barely-concealed glee and takes the paper out of the boy’s hands. “Well, well, well,” she begins, her grin growing wider as she skims through them. “Let’s see here—”

“No!” Tiergan and Prentice both shout. 

“Dear Tiergan,” Livvy reads aloud, and Prentice buries his head in his hands, “you are the king of every sunset and the queen of every sunrise, the stars themselves personified into one, ever-gleaming halo of a person.” 

“A true poet,” Fintan notes, and Tiergan can only stare at the man beside him. He cannot truly believe that, Tiergan thinks. There is no part of Tiergan that could be deserving of his words. 

“And,” Livvy continues, and Tiergan’s blood runs cold, “My dear Prentice, I will love you forever, even when I am only a memory. I will love you with every part of me that has ever known love. I swear by it.” Livvy raises an eyebrow at him, but Tiergan does not notice. He is too concerned with Prentice, once beside him and now striding toward him at an incredible pace. Tiergan braces for an impact of some sort, but it doesn’t come. 

Instead, Prentice stops mere inches away from him and takes his hands gently. “My dear Lord of Disdain,” he says—softly, beautifully. 

And then Prentice kisses him, and a shaky peace settles on Eternalia once again. 

-

[mournfulroses]

Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "August," featured in White Pine: Poems & Prose Poems

[wednesdaysfullofwoe]

[fairydrowning]

"The day was beautiful, warm and clear. It was the end of August."

– Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Neil Gaiman started a ‘Let’s Play’ channel titled “Neil Gaiming” in order to market a new book. 

[letsbeapoemtogether]

Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life

[guppyfish77]

So about the Battle Subway Trains

Hi, I love trains! And the Trains in Unova have a surprising amount of detail? And nobody talks about it? And if I don't talk about it I will explode!?!!!

So despite Unova being inspired by New York you'd think the Battle Subway Trains would be based on The New York Subway Trains? However they look like they are more based on Japanese Railway Trains!

I'd like to preface before going into this that despite talking a lot about the Japanese Railway, I am not Japanese, while I did my best to research as best I can, some stuff may fly over my head, I also used an online translator for some information so it might not be 100% accurate.

Alrighty lets get into this! This is mainly for fun and its going to be under the Read More because it is verrrrrrrrry long, I hope that you enjoy!

If you aren't aware, each train in the Battle Subway has lore! All the lore comes from this Worker NPC on the bridge in Anville Town. Depending on the day, a different train will show up on the turntable, and he'll give you a little dialogue for that train! This dialogue is what I'll be mainly analyzing :]

Single and Anville Town Trains:

"This is a Single Train! It's the oldest train in the Battle Subway. It's for a loop line to go around the Unova region! Do you know Tubeline Bridge? The train that runs on it is this Single Train."

"As you know, this is a local train to Anville Town! Isn't it just so cute? This one is a little slow and heavy. When it runs, the whole train sways. The train car is the same model as a Single Train. Because it is an old train car, I hear the maintenance is hard, but it's the one I always ride, because I loved it as a kid!"

So! The Single and Anville Town Trains are the same model of train, you can actually see this in their designs where they both share the same face but they differ in the livery. (Livery is a term referring to the train's decor/color, the color is often associated with a particular company or in this case a particular train line.) I'm going to use this fact to assume that if one train has one feature, then it's likely that the other train also has that same feature. Such as how the description of the Anville Town Train says it sways as it runs, if that is the case then the Single Train also probably sways. (which sounds kind of awful to battle on, unless you have good train legs I suppose X_X)

It is stated that the Single Train is the oldest in the Battle Subway. I believe though, that it means the oldest train that is currently running in the Battle Subway. As there is another train that seems much older and no longer running, but I'll get to that train much much later.

Older trains are indeed harder to maintain, and expensive too. This is because the older the equipment, the harder it is to get its parts as they become more obsolete. Though I will say this, trains can last a long time! The average service life of a train is about 30-50 years, it really varies from train to train. These trains would most likely be on the older side.

There is a slight possibility that it has been continued to be maintained past it service life. Given how fond the Worker NPC talks about the train, it might have high sentimental value. Therefore if it is past its service life, it has not been scrapped or recycled yet because of it. I doubt this is the case though, usually it is never worth the maintenance cost (especially for regular operation.)

Like the description says, you can see the Single Train running on the Tubeline Bridge, here's a video of it! Apologies for the way I am recording this, I don't exactly have a capture card, but I wanted to show you guys regardless

You can see how fast the train is going as it passes below you! At least the just Singles Train anyways, seems to me like it's going about 20-30mph? I tried doing math to find the exact speed but that's difficult for several reasons (no idea how large a "tile" in Pokemon really is and objects in the overworld are not very accurate in size so I can't exactly do any comparisons. The perspective of the camera also makes it tricky.) Given how the Anville Train is described as "slow and heavy", I would hazard a guess to say that the other trains of the Battle Subway may run faster than this.

You can also see that each train is made up of 7 cars as it passes below you if you slow down the footage. Which is not surprising, you have to win 7 battles in a row to complete a "set" where you are then dropped off at a rest stop. I believe the Battle Subway trains to be electrical multiple units (EMUs) so it would probably make them 7-car sets.

It also looks like the Singles Line is very busy with the trains only being seconds apart! Now I know this is more a visual thing so the environment would be interesting to look at, but I'd like to think it indicates that the Battle Subway/Singles Line is very popular! (and very well organized!)

As for Real life train inspirations I think perhaps the Tobu 10030 series?

The Tobu 10030 is a version of the Tobu 10000 series with some minor changes, such as the design of the face and using a bolsterless bogie. (Bogie is a part of the train that refers to a frame that holds sets of wheels as well as the suspension, breaks, etc. in which the body of the train car rests upon.)(A bolster is a part that connects the side frames of the bogie and the underside of the car's central pivot point.)(A bolsterless bogie is a bogie type that doesn't have a bolster). The front of the train is covered in fiber reinforced plastic and the outer panels are "bead molded" (which... I have no clue what that means...) This series has been going under renovations since 2010.

Double Train:

"This car is a Double Train! This is a mass-produced car from a decade ago! Compared to a Single Train, the number of parts was reduced so it could be built for a lower cost. The number of parts influences the budget and construction time. The streamlined and beautiful design of the Double Train is still valued today."

So the Double Train is at least 10 years old! (That's what decade means!) Honestly though, I think the Double Train might be older than 10, in Japanese the description just says that it is a "mass-produced train from a long time ago" and doesn't mention a number... Another reason is that in the Multi Train description, it mentions that it is a test model for future trains that will replace the Double Trains. Which means perhaps that the Double Trains may be reaching near the end of its service life, which again average 30-50 years. It could be a possibility that this train may have a shorter service life than usual, who knows. This all speculation really.

As for lowering the amount of parts, from what I found it makes the train lighter. It would also probably lower the cost as well like the description says (trains are really really expensive to build! EMUs can cost $2mil-$10mil per car!)

It also mentions that it is a mass-produced car! It's a train made with mass production for commercial purposes! I believe it's usually for train lines that are really busy, where they would need a lot of trains? It typically means that there are a lot of them. (All this makes me wonder about train production in the Pokemon World...)

As for Real life inspirations, I think that the Double Train is inspired by the Tokyu 1000 series train.

The Tokyu 1000's design and equipment is similar to another train, the Tokyu 9000 series, with improvements such as improved handling and making it easier to do inspection and repair work. As well as reducing the amount of spare parts from the Tokyu 9000.

Multi Train:

"This car is a Multi Train! Few cars of this model were produced. This is a test car to develop future mass-produced cars that will replace the old Double Trains. The technology born during the creation of this train car made the Super Single Train and Super Double Train possible!"

The multi train is a test/prototype train! A little surprised that an entire line is running off a few prototypes. Like the description says, not many are produced as the purpose of a prototype is to test features and improve upon them if needed before they are put into mass production. Given that it says the technology from this train was the reason the Super Single and Super Double Train was made possible. I'm thinking it was most likely testing some eco friendly features? As it is the Super Single and Super Double Train's main feature.

Perhaps them using a model with so few trains means that the Multi line isn't that busy/popular? (Surprising then the train platform is not swarming with more train photographers haha!)

As for real life inspirations, while the livery may not be the same I think it could be the Keisei 3000 (2nd Generation.)

The Keisei 3000's body is made of lightweight stainless steel and the passenger doors have a paper honeycomb structure. When they were designing this train, they wanted it to be both environmentally (energy saving) and customer friendly (being accessible to elderly and those with disabilities.)

Super Single and Super Double Trains:

"This Super Single Train is a new mass-produced car! It's an environmentally friendly train, because they revised all the parts to drastically reduce power consumption! Newer trains have to be built in a way that's both functional and environmentally friendly. Compared to the past, they've improved significantly."

"This Super Double Train is a new mass-produced car! Such a streamlined and refined design! Beauty and utility working together! That kind of beautility is unique to mass-produced train cars! It uses the same train car as a Super Single Train. The only difference is the appearance. It is a superb train car that will go down in the history of the Battle Subway!"

The Super Single and Super Double Trains are the same model. Honestly the description of these trains doesn't give me a lot of information besides the fact that these trains are eco friendly. So I'll talk about what trains do to make themselves (even more) eco friendly!

They are stated to be eco friendly by reducing power consumption. I think it could be referring to a "VVVF inverter control" (it stands for variable voltage variable frequency. In English its mainly called the VFD or variable frequency drive.) A VVVF is a type of system for an AC motor that can reduce energy consumption! (There are two types of electrical current, DC or Direct Current and AC or Alternate Current. An AC motor is a motor that is driven by AC electricity.) It is important on energy saving trains! I won't get too much into how it works, but essentially it controls the AC motor's rotational speed by controlling the frequency. By controlling these, it can control the speed and acceleration of a train. You'll find that a VVVF is often paired with a three phase motor (I will not go into that...) Let's just say that these systems are very efficient at using power and help save energy.

Really, reducing power consumption usually means being more efficient at using power. Like using LEDs, using better insulation to retain cooling or heating, and generally using parts that use less electricity. It could be that the train is lighter in weight too (lighter vehicles use less power.)

Both of these Super Trains are mass produced! Which tells me that there are a lot of Super Single and Super Double trains! Its lines are probably busy.

As for real life inspirations, it is very much inspired by the E233-2000 series train

The E233-2000 is a little bit of an oddball in the E233 family exterior design wise. Its design was inspired by the Tokyu 5000 series. Its basic running equipment is the same as the E233 trains before it though.

I think it is a bit of a stretch, but I'll mention it anyways. The E233 (which the E233-2000 is a subsection of) is a train that has won the Laurel Award in 2007. The Laurel Award is an award given to trains by the Japan Railway Friends Association for trains with an excellence in technology and design (specifically geared towards commuter trains.) It could be what all the "beautility" comments could be referencing to? They do look verrry different though, and the E233-2000 came after the award was given...

Super Multi Train:

"This train car is a Super Multi Train! This is the latest train car! Improved acceleration and deceleration! Automated train-car controls! It's full of cutting-edge technologies. Also, a regeneration brake system, a car-body tilting system, a whatchamacallit system, a thingamabob system... I don't remember all the details, but it's just a big festival of all the latest technology!"

Ohhoho! The Super Multi Train description is a goldmine of details! This train is the whole reason I wanted to make this post! Let's run through its features!

Improved acceleration and deceleration means that it can run between stops faster, allowing for quicker operation time.

Automated train-car controls or ATC is a safety system on trains that prevents trains from going over a certain speed! If the train goes over the maximum speed permitted then the ATC will pull the brakes automatically to reduce the speed and release the brakes when it is below maximum speed. It also displays the maximum speed to the driver. It is an incredibly important safety system!! From what I understand, the term ATC is very common in Japan, in other countries the ATC would simply be a part of cab signaling (it is a safety system mainly for the driver and train crew, it tells them track status and condition information) and train protection technologies. ATC is installed on all Shinkansen trains, it is also installed in some subways and heavily used railways.

Here's an example of what it looks like! The green triangle there is the (current) maximum speed. There are a lot of different types of ATC systems and this ones a D-ATC (stands for Digital Automatic Train Control) from within an E233! There are a whole lot of different types of ATC, and they can come in many looks! I would show more examples, however, I have hit the image limit on this post... :[

A regenerative brake system is a special type of breaking that allows a train to generate electricity via breaking! The electricity can either be used immediately, stored, or returned back into the line. You might've heard this feature on electric or hybrid cars. It is a common eco friendly feature!

A car-body tilting system is a feature in trains that allows the body of the train car to tilt into a curve! It allows the train to go faster on a track (not needing to slow down on a curve) but the feature is mainly for passenger comfort! When you ride, you don't feel the centrifugal force at all when going around a curve! And it makes the ride so smooth! Here's a short video demonstrating what it looks like:

There are essentially two major ways to do a car body tilting system. There is active tilting (forced body tilting) or passive tilting (pendulum system). A forced body tilting system uses computers to tilt the train using track data or sensors, telling the train when and how much to tilt. If the calculation is not done correctly, it can leave passengers with motion sickness (An infamous example is the Advanced Passenger Train in the UK). The tilting itself I believe is done via hydraulics. Forced Body Tilting is more popular in European and American trains.

As for passive tilting, the train in the video uses it! (A controlled pendulum train!) It means it uses natural forces to tilt the train car. I'll dive deeper into this type of tilting in the Wi-Fi train section because it actually mentions it's a pendulum train! As to which tilting type the Super Multi train has... it could honestly be either.

(Ah! I forgot to mention this, but tilting trains are especially useful in mountainous regions, where there are a lot of curves.)

In the Japanese version of the Super Multi description, it also mentions that it has a "earthquake warning system" and a "tornado monitoring system".

An earthquake warning system is not something fully installed into the train, rather it's mainly a set of sensors installed along the track, coast, and major inland areas. For passenger rail, if any signs of an earthquake are detected, it will alert any trains in the affected area and drivers are required to apply their emergency brakes. For shinkansen trains it will cut off power to the affected area which will automatically activate the emergency brakes.

Well, I found something close to a tornado warning system. There is a "gust warning system" where sensors measure wind speed and to predict where strong gusts of wind would go. Again, it's not a system that is installed within the train. From what I could tell, they would restrict travel speed during strong winds. If wind speeds are too high, then they would shut down the lines. (I suppose would be very useful, especially when there's some legendaries that cause powerful storms roaming around.)

In the Japanese version of the text, it also states that the Super Multi Train is also a test train. Which again means there's also not a lot of this train. It also states that some of it's features are unnecessary due to it being a test train lol

In the description all these features are stated as "cutting edge" and "a festival of all the latest technology" when these features are not all that new? And Regenerative breaking seems to be pretty common? (Every irl train I have shown thus far all have it.) Eh, I don't think it's that big of a deal. They are just fictional trains after all.

I originally thought the train looked like an Eizan Railway Deo 800 series, but thanks to the leaks, it looks like that the JR East 205-500 was used as a base to design the Super Multi Train? With probably heavy modification to the final design. (While I don't condone the method that these leaks were obtained, curiosity did get the better of me. This is the only train that I ID-ed this way.)

This Train was exclusive to the Sagami Line, though it ended operation in 2022 and every one of these trains have been scrapped. The blue color I believe is an homage to the Sagami River that runs along the line. The Train used a semi automatic door system for its passenger doors. Which means that rather than the conductor opening and closing the doors, the passengers would press a button to open the door when the train has stopped.

Wi-Fi Train:

"This train car is a Wi-Fi Train! It is the fastest long-distance high-speed train in the Battle Subway! This is called a pendulum car. Its body tilts while going around curves, so it can run without slowing down! Faster! Farther! Our engineers' spirits are infused in it!"

A pendulum car is a very specific term!!! Like I mentioned in the Super Mutli Train section it is a type of car body tilting. There are multiple types of Pendulum systems, There is Natural Pendulum, Controlled Pendulum, Air Spring (also called Simple Pendulum), and Hybrid.

Natural Pendulum is just using the centrifugal force of when it goes around a curve to tilt the train. This type was known to cause motion sickness in riders because when it straightened out, the car would "lag" or wobble. Sometimes the force was not enough to tilt the train and this would also cause passenger discomfort. These issues were fixed later with a controlled pendulum, where there would be a degree of control to the tilting. Using mechanisms similar to forced body tilting, it would prevent wobble and ease the tilt. The air spring method, as suggests in the name, uses air springs to help with tilting. It is similar to the controlled pendulum, though it tilts less than it (controlled pendulum can tilt 6 degrees and air springs can only tilt 2 degrees). Air springs are cheaper to build though and still are able to make the train go faster. Hybrid is the combination of controlled pendulum and air springs, allowing for an 8 degree tilt.

I hope the Wi-Fi train is not a natural pendulum? You're telling me you have to battle on that and you might get motion sickness?? Though it sounds like it might be more high tech so it is most likely the other types... Hopefully...

It also states that this train is the "fastest long-distance high-speed train in the Battle Subway!" Looking at Japan's tilting trains (that are not shinkansen), they go about 120kmh-130kmh (about 75 mph-81 mph.) So it could be a possibility that the Wi-Fi goes something along those speeds.

I've looked through Japan's tilting trains, and the closest one might be the JR Hokkaido Kiha 201 series? It's not at all close though... I can't really find a good match tbh. I think the 113 series seems to be a bit more closer visually.

The one on the left is a Kansai livery and the right is a JR Shikoku livery. They are both the same train, JR Shikoku bought the 113 series from JR East to replace some aging trains and then modified it. Which is why they look a bit different. The modifications include strengthening the front of the train and adding shock absorbing material inside.

So Those are all the trains that run in the Battle Subway! However there are 2 trains that don't, instead they only show up in Anville Town on certain days. I'll be calling them "Old Train Car" and "Futuristic Train Car"

"Old Train Car"

"This train car is the kind that ran a long time ago. Compared to contemporary train cars, it has more parts, so I heard it was difficult to build. The old train cars built with lots of small parts have their own unique beauty and attract a lot of fans. Those cars no longer run in the Battle Subway, but I hear they're still used in a faraway region. Ah... I'd love to be on that train!"

So this sort of car used to run on the Battle Subway. It's said to be still running in another region, though with how old the train looks I can only think that maybe it would be running by railway preservationists.

The design of this train reminds me a lot of old Japanese electric trains and trams. Especially trams with that double roof. I don't think it's really based on any particular vehicle? Here's a couple that I found;

The only one I feel like is worth mentioning is the Jomo Electric Railway Deha 101 (this specific car is the Deha 101, others of its kind are called Deha 100 type) and the Nagasaki Electric Railway 160 type. Both of these vehicles I believe are still running to some capacity.

The Jomo Deha 101 has been running for over 90 years. While car 101 still resides at Jomo Railway, other Deha 100s have been transferred to other private companies where they have been scrapped. I believe the only existing Deha 100s today are Car 101 and Car 104 (which has been painted bright yellow.)

The Nagasaki Electric Railway 160 type used to belong to the Kyushu Electric Tramway where it was called the Type 1 Electric Tram. When it was transferred to the Nagasaki Electric Railway it was renamed into the 160 type. Today, there is a single car in operation. I believe it is the oldest wooden car in Japan that is still in service.

I suppose I will also mention the Keifuku Electric Railway Mobo 21 Type Train, it does look the most similar. Though, it's purposefully designed to look like an old style tram.

"Futuristic Train Car"

"This train car is a new train to run in the future! Wooo! Cool! Super cool! The latest motor breathes fire! Uh-oh, if it really breathed fire, that would be bad! But it is full of the latest technologies! It's undergoing a lot of testing. It's called a gauge-convertible train. It's a sweet car that can adjust its wheels to run on any rail!"

So first off, I'd like to say that this train visually kind of looks like a "Sonic" 883 series (nothing to do with the blue hedgehog, it was just a coincidence lol)

However the description!!!! A "gauge convertible train" that is undergoing a lot of testing... That description matches exactly with the GCT! (literally standing for Gauge Change/Convertible Train, though in Japanese it's called FGT or Free Gauge Train!)

The GTC is the project name for this experimental shinkansen. The one in the picture is the GTC-01, the second generation of its kind (as this is the version they would be testing before and during the development of the game, there is now a 3rd generation.) So, the term gauge refers to the distance between the two rails. Different trains run on different gauges, they can come in either narrow gauge, standard gauge, or wide gauge. Japan's rail network is mostly narrow gauge (specifically Cape Gauge.) The main exception are the shinkansen trains, which run on standard gauge. This shinkansen like the description says would be able to run on any gauge. It used to be under a lot of testing by the Free Gauge Train Technology Research Association. Today though, the GTC-01 second generation sits on display in the Shikoku Railway Heritage Museum.

There are a lot of challenges that the GTC faces. It takes a bit of time for the wheels to adjust to the gauge and you need to go slower when it's doing so. It has increased maintenance costs. The heavier specialized bogie creates more wear on the rails as well as making the train harder to detect. (Ok! Basic explanation for Railway Signaling! Tracks are split up into sections called "blocks", and a small electrical current is run between the two tracks that makes up the block. When a train runs through, the wheel and axle of the train disrupts the current, which then the system detects that block as being occupied by a train. If it is occupied, the signal lights at the end of the block will be turned red, preventing other trains from entering the same block, thus preventing collisions. The problem arises in the GTC in that the wheel and the axle are separate, thus something about this is making it hard to detect on the rail.)

With this train being a "gauge change train" it really made me wonder what gauge the Battle Subway trains runs at? I thought maybe standard gauge or maybe even wide gauge because you can only make the train so wide depending on the gauge. And you'd probably want it wider so that there is more room, especially if you are fitting a battle arena in it! However in Japanese the description mentions that "The rails are a little wider on the tracks that run at higher speeds." Which is... exactly how Japanese rail works? So the Battle Subway lines are probably narrow gauge?

Another thing that's interesting about the "Futuristic Train" is the date that it actually shows up. In Anville Town the way that each train shows up is dependent on the last digit of the day of the month, like so:

0- (10th, 20th, and 30th) "Old Train Car"

1- (1st, 11th, 21st, and 31st) Single Train Car

2- (2nd, 12th, and 22nd) Double Train Car

3- (3rd, 13th, and 23rd) Multi Train Car

yada yada you get the point (4- Super Double Train, 5- Super Single Train, 6- Super Multi Train, 7- Anville Town Train, 8- Nothing, 9- Wi-Fi Train)

The only exception is the "Futuristic Train" who will show up ONLY on February 1st, June 12th, October 1st, October 14th, and December 30th, pretty random huh? haha of course not! These dates are dates significant to the History of Japanese Railway/Transportation!

February 1st: The opening of Japan's first electric street car in 1895!

June 12th: The temporary operation of Japan's first passenger railway in 1872!

October 1st: The release of Japan's first Shinkansen, the series 0 in 1964!

October 14th: The official opening of Japan's first passenger railway in 1872, with the first two stations between Shimbashi and Yokohama! This day is also Railway Day in Japan, celebrating this event, Tokyo holds a Railway Festival and train companies like to do events on this day as well! 

December 30th: The opening of Japan's first subway line in 1927, The Ginza Line!

Rails, Station Platform, and More Train:

So the Station, there are a few details I can pick up on here!

The type of track that the trains run on (at least in the station) are ballastless tracks! It means the rail is tied directly onto a slab of concrete rather than having ballast hold it up (ballast is that rocky gravel that you often see beneath the tracks.) This type of track is quite expensive to build and makes the place a lot nosier, but it has a lot of advantages! For one, because there is no ballast to maintain, it has lower maintenance cost (ballast must be packed every now and again using a ballast tamping machine. Which lifts the track and jostles the ballast beneath it. Ballast also needs to be replaced after a while because the rocks have to be irregularly shaped for it to work, and natural weathering can make them smooth out.) It is also easier to clean and has a longer lifespan. Because the rail is tied to slabs of concrete the rails are less prone to deformation, which is good! Though it is also that same inflexibility means that it is difficult to change anything about it and takes longer to repair.

Their buffer! (that little black thing at the end of the line, I think it is a buffer?) It doesn't look like that effective of a buffer... The purpose of a buffer is to stop a train if brakes fail. Though this thing seems to be more for the driver telling them where the end is, hence all the, what I presume are, lights. Let's hope they have some sort of other safety system in place (like some sort of Automatic Train Stop system.)

There doesn't seem to be a third rail. I have a feeling that might be because most Japanese railway trains are powered via overhead wire (literally every irl train I have shown is powered this way.) Maybe the Battle Subway trains might be powered via overhead wire? I might be over analyzing here, they might not have thought of modeling such a small detail haha

The train itself has some sort of device on top (that box thing.) I believe it to be some sort of air conditioning unit. Given how each train car has one large unit on top of it, I believe that it uses a centralized cooling system, which means there is one large air conditioning unit. (There are 2 other types, they are distributed cooling which consists of 6-8 small units and centralized distributed which consists of a couple of medium sized units.) Central cooling systems are easier to install and maintain because there is only one unit to worry about.

Signboards:

The Buildings in between routes have a electronic news bulletin board, and depending on which city is connected to it, the news bulletin will give a little flavor text about the city. There's some flavor text about the Battle Subway when it's about Nimbasa City, and it different depending on whether you are playing the first one or the second one, here they are:

BW

"Run and battle! Trains never stop!” Battle Subway in Nimbasa City"

"They say someone who loved battles also happened to be a railway maniac, and thats why we now have the battle subway"

So, this might be a coincidence, but there is an old name that Japanese Train Fans used to call themselves. The name was "Railway Mania" (鉄道マニア direct translation). It was used up until the 1950s. Today it's seen as a derogatory term but it was used very commonly back in its heyday (even more popular than "railfan" apparently.) I think it is kind of interesting that the term "Railway Maniac" was chosen for this flavor text and I wonder if it has anything to do with this old name. However, I say it might just be a coincidence because the term "Maniac" is not unheard of word in Pokemon (Item Maniac, Poke Maniac, Hex Maniac, etc.) But regardless, there's that little fun fact for you!

B2W2

“Get on a train and fight!” Battle Subway in Nimbasa City"

"The energy generated by heated Pokémon battles is the fuel that keeps the Battle Subway running"

I'm going to get a little headcanon-y here. We can interpret this figuratively, as in if there are no battles then its not really a Battle Subway is it? But I think it would be fun to interpret it literally! What if Pokemon Moves could get absorbed somehow to power the Train? And if the Train doesn't need it it could go into the line to power something else in the Subway! I think that would be cool :]

Extra Stuff:

●I think the Battle Subway Map could also be inspired by JR East's rail map, the main reason is the single lines (dark green) which goes in a loop around the Unova Region...

Reminds me of the Yamanote Line (light green) which also goes in a loop connecting a variety of major stations together in Tokyo and is a very very important line!

●While I do believe Gear Station is inspired by New York's Grand Central Station, I do think there's a lot of design elements taken from Tokyo Station as well

●The gray bodies of the Anville, Single, Doubles, and Multi cars are probably meant to represent an exposed steel/aluminum body rather than the ones painted white like the Super Trains.

●In the Anime, the trains are said to have an ATO system, this is also a real system, it stands for Automatic Train Operation. It's a system that allows a computer to control when the train stops and goes with no driver involved! I don't think that the trains in the games run on an ATO system though, as there are Depot Agents who talk about train driving (Depot Agent Cameron who says "I’m good at driving, but I’m not good at dealing with Pokemon." at the start of battle, and a way more obscure Depot Agent whom you can talk to on the platform after 14 wins on a Super Train who says "I’d rather have an exciting battle than slowly drive the train.")

●In the Anime, there's a stamp rally, which is a real thing! There are station stamps in Japan which tourists can collect. Though, occasionally Pokemon will collaborate with JR East to create a Pokemon Stamp Rally! The most recent is this Pokemon Horizons Stamp Rally promoting the show! Here's a map of what stamps you can collect at each station and the prizes you can get!

●In the Nacrane city library there is a book that mentions that Nacrane used to have steam locomotives running through it!

"This book is about the things you can ride in the Unova region, such as Castelia City’s cruise ship and Mistralton City’s planes. Before there were planes, locomotives carried people all over Unova. The railway in Nacrene City is a legacy of those lines." (B2W2)

What kinds of Steam Locomotives? I suppose we will never know, as we never see one in game.

●There's an Roughneck NPC you can talk to at Tubeline Bridge in B2W2 where he says

"Watch it! People use “railway fan” as a catchall term, but there are many types of railway fans! There are riding fans, detraining fans, station fans, train-car fans, schedule-table fans, picture-taking fans, recording fans, and more! Don’t go thinking they’re all the same!" (B2W2)

So in Japanese, Railway is Tesudo (鉄道, testu 鉄- Iron and do 道-Road) and a Railway Fan is Tesudofan, however fans will abbreviate to just Testu and stick what aspect of trains they enjoy with it, so like 乗り鉄 (Nori 乗り-Ride, 鉄-tetsu) as a Train Riding Fan, or 撮り鉄 (Tori 撮り-Taking a Picture, 鉄-tetsu) as a Railway Photography fan. There are a lot of these and the NPC does go over some! There's also Railway Modeling Fans (Fans who collect model trains and/or construct model railways), Collecting Fans (Fans who collect railway related items such as tickets or stamps), Operation Fans (Fans who like researching railway operation and equipment), Regulation Fans (Fans who like researching railway handbooks and laws and regulations that go into a railway), Simulation Fans (Fans who like playing train driving/railway management games), Artists/Writers, Urban Explorers, and Railway Preservationist (I gave up on the last ones lol). There are lots of ways to enjoy trains!

There's also the super specific terms of "Mama Tetsu" where a mother becomes a railway fan because of their children's interest or "Oyako Tetsu" where a child becomes interested in trains because of their parents.

●The badge on Ingo and Emmet's hats probably represents the logo for the railway company that they work for, while researching about Japanese Railway Companies, I noticed that they have a lot of circular logos, here's a handful:

From what I could gather, these types of black and white circular logos are called a mon, kind of like a crest? If you wish to scroll about the logos, here is the link for the Wikimedia commons list.

The company's logo is also what's usually depicted on irl conductor's hats anyways, in the exact same place too.

(I was looking for a screenshot to showcase the hat to put here, but instead I found this promotional video! It's actually pretty good at going over the basics of what a driver and conductor actually do! Please feel free to check it out)

●The name "Depot Agent" is a little bit of a strange name, in Japanese the name is simply "Railway Worker", a depot is often referred to a train yard, however depot can also refer to a station, given where we see this trainer class working (at Gear Station), it is most likely that the depot in this case is referring to station, so they are station workers!

Final:

After all this I have come to the conclusion that somebody at Gamefreak really liked trains! And I really think all the little details are so awesome! and it really cements the Battle Subway as my favorite battle facility!

Anyways I hope you learned a thing or two and I hope you gained a new appreciation for trains and the Battle Subway! Thanks for Reading! ✌

(If I got anything wrong, please feel free to correct me, there was a lot of information I had to sift through and I am NOT an engineer * _ * and if you have something to add please do! I would love to learn more! ^ ^

[batfamhastwitter]

Part 13! Happy birthday to Jay and Alf!

Prev ~ Beginning ~ Next

[malusokay]

end of summer journaling prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Which month of summer was most memorable to you and why?

At what point do you feel like summer is over?

Top 3 summer memories?

How do you plan to spend the last summer days?

Have you made vacation friends, and if so, have you stayed in touch with them?

Top 3 summer fruits?

What is your favourite summer beauty ritual?

Does time feel like it's moving faster or slower in summer?

What is something that you wanted to do all summer but haven't done yet?

Top 3 summer songs this year? make a playlist!!

How did your routine change over the summer?

What habits did you pick up this summer, and what do you want to continue in the upcoming school year?

Summarise the entire summer in just 1 word!!

3 unpopular summer opinions?

How would you rank all four seasons now that summer is coming to an end?

Do you feel the "summertime sadness"?

hey dolls I hope August is treating you all with plenty of kindness!! for me, this has probably been the busiest month so far, trying to manage moving, work, school, and relationships while also enjoying summer to the fullest!!

As always, please feel free to share your own prompts or even your summer highlights in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

summary: Lucifer takes pride in everything he has, especially his wife.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

includes: fluff, lucifer being a sweet and attentive husband and father, suggestiveness, possessiveness, that’s pretty much it (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: okay but like, i am on serious hazbin brain rot, i have written more for HH than any other fandom so far.

Being the embodiment of pride meant that Lucifer constantly flaunted everything to his fellow sins and his people. And being the King of Hell meant he had a lot to brag about. Especially his family. God, Lucifer loved his family and would do anything to talk about them in every conversation.

An overlord meeting about movie productions on VoxFlix? Add romantic comedies, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite. Speaking with Beelzebub about her different alcoholic beverages? Make sure to make mojitos, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite.

He took pride in who he married and who his daughter was. After all, they were the royal family of Hell.

“Mom, I think it’s as tight as it can go— MOM!” Charlie’s eyes flashed red as she squealed, grabbing your arm.

“Sorry!” You tilt your head back as you let a laugh fall from your lips. “I thought you said—“

“No no no no noooo!” She turned around, eyes wide. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her crown.

Charlie beamed at you and traded places with you. “My turn!”

You hum as she tightens the corset around you, eyes flickering up toward the mirror when you hear the door creak open. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and then one to Charlie’s forehead. “Hi, apple pie.” He watched his daughter tug on the strings attached to the corset, moving forward when it seemed like you were going to fall from the platform. “Charlie, what are you doing to your mother?”

“Pulling her corset tight—“ She grunted as she held the string in place, tying the back. “There.” You gave her a thumbs up as she finished, watching her glow at your silent praise.

“Gorgeous as always.” Lucifer stole you from your platform, the devil’s tail wrapping around your waist.

“You know? Vaggie is probably looking for me! I should leave…” Charlie let out an awkward laugh and fled for the door. “Text me when you need me for the entrance!”

Lucifer dipped you down, chuckling when you let out a noise of surprise. “You look breathtaking, my love. Maybe we should just skip the gala and do better activities right here—“

“Lucifer!” You lightly smack his chest, face flushed from his words. “You horny devil!”

“Says the queen of Hell.” He captured you in a quick kiss, red lipstick staining his lips. “Come on, Charlie can handle it on her own.” He squeezed your hips as you walked over to the vanity with his head resting on your bare shoulder.

You glance at your beloved with a soft look, “Luce, we didn’t coordinate a whole gala just to have our daughter host it herself.” You clip on a pair of earrings, the golden snake and apple shining through the light. “We also didn’t have these outfits made for us just for them to be wasted away on our bedroom floor.”

“I mean…” He nipped on your exposed shoulder, earning a gasp and glare. “They made you a maroon dress with a slit exposing your legs, my love.”

“Because it matches your maroon and black suit.” You turn in his arms and tug at his lapels. “Which I have to admit, kinda does it for me.”

He smirked as he slowly pushed you up against the vanity, “Yeah? Maybe we should ditch.”

“Nope.” Your hands clasped behind his neck, eyes widening when you feel one of his hands trail down to your exposed leg. “Luce…”

“You started this.” He slotted himself between your legs and continuously peppered kisses to your collarbone and neck, softly sucking. “You’re a tease.”

“Lucifer—“ Your protests were cut off with a quiet moan, but you quickly covered your mouth when hearing him chuckle. “Nope, we’re leaving now.”

Lucifer separated from you, a wide grin adorning his face as he scanned you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Let’s go then, my love.”

You raised a brow but didn’t protest, letting him wrap his arm around your waist to guide you toward the ballroom. You both were quickly accompanied by your daughter as you made your way to the landing of the grand stairway.

The lights flashed off and the spotlight projected on the Morningstar family, the crowd’s voice hushed when spotting the monarchy. Lucifer gave a welcoming speech to the sinners, overlords, and sins who attended, making sure to mention his family and how they helped make the gala entirely possible. Final rounds of applause echoed through the ballroom as Lucifer finished off, letting everyone go back to their socialization and dancing.

“Mom,” Charlie caught you before you could follow Lucifer to greet his fellow sins. “Did you… Do you know why… You have bruises on your neck.” She finally mumbled out, eyes not meeting yours.

You felt yourself warm from embarrassment. Not only did your daughter tell you that you have hickeys on your neck, but you stood in the blinding lights with an audience staring at the three of you. No doubt photographers caught this and snapped photos for the internet. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to murder your father.”

“Mom—“

You scanned the room before your gaze zeroed on Lucifer. He was laughing with Asmodeus before meeting your gaze and gave you a wink. Oh, he was going to pay.

“Lucifer.” You appear by his side. You give his fellow sin a quick smile but turn back to the little devil with a scowl. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It was nice catching up with you, Oz.”

You guided Lucifer back to a secluded hallway, eyes flashing bright red when you were alone. Within a blink of an eye, you had Lucifer pinned against the wall with your forearm.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to know that I went out there with bruises all over my neck? Or, better yet, that our daughter was the one who told me what was on my neck?” You seethed. You were beyond embarrassed and pissed, you’re surprised you haven’t become a full demon yet.

“To be fair, it was more than just your neck—“

“LUCIFER!” You use your free hand to reach up your collarbone. The room felt ten times warmer, and it didn’t help that you felt Lucifer’s devil tail decided to wrap around your calf.

He remained pinned on the wall, giving you a cheeky grin. “This is really hot.”

“Oh, my god!” You release him with a glare. “There’s going to be photos everywhere! What will the public think about—“

“Lucky king?” He shrugged as he let his fingers trail up your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Listen, we’ll get rid of the photos. But is it really a crime to show off what’s mine?”

You grumble a small response, propping your head on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, Luce.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He chuckled.

The photos never made it outside of Pride Manor, but the teasing you received from the other sins made you flush every time. Lucifer listened to each jeer, a smirk present on his face from the constant reminder that you were in fact his.

Especially when the bruises scattered around you spelled out his initials.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[beanxiv]

satoru gojo who has the biggest sweet tooth ever but won't hesitate to offer you a bite of his kikufuku-- even though it's his favorite.

satoru gojo who, when you shake your head to him buying you an expensive gift, buys it for you anyways, because no amount of money will be more valuable than seeing you happy with a what he's bought you. especially when he knows its his name on the card that's being slid through the reader to purchase whatever it is you set your eyes on.

satoru gojo who readily pulls his blindfold/sunglasses off in your presence because only you quiet the overlapping, draining echoes in his head.

satoru gojo who peppers you with kisses for as long as you let him, because you deserve to feel just how much adoration he has for you.

satoru gojo who takes you out to gorgeous high-end restaurants, having the both of you dress up just as gorgeously. not to mention, throughout the night you'll hear endless compliments of how "that outfit really compliments your figure," or how, "that color makes your eyes look so pretty." and so on and so forth, satoru can't run out of compliments when you give him so much to talk about

satoru gojo who is the best at princess treatment. do not try opening your own door around him. he will do somersaults to get there before you can. you know those tiktoks of people rolling over the top of the car and dropping onto the ground to open the door for their significant other? yeah, that's satoru.

satoru gojo who surprises you with those giant, beautiful bouquets that have money and your favorite snacks in them because he loves to see your expression when he hands it to you

satoru gojo who loves to show you off. he'll send the gc with him, shoko, and suguru endless texts about how he loves his s/o so much and how he's so lucky to have them. and he sends especially petty messages sometimes about how suguru and shoko are still single while he's happily married (he'll say this before you're even engaged)

satoru gojo who used to not get flustered by anyone because-- well he's satoru gojo-- he's the one who gets people all flustered up. but when you came into his life? try as he might to talk smooth and be flirty, you turned him into a stuttering mess sometimes. he'd play it off when he got lucky, but whenever you caught him off guard? he'd blush to his ears, glancing away and all.

satoru gojo who always texts you if he's at the store to ask if you want him to pick up something for you while he's there.

satoru gojo who, if you're sick, will act like you're dying in his arms. he'll panic, rushing around to get you medicine, whatever snacks you're craving, etc. he showers you in kisses and cuddles like they'll be his last

alternatively, satoru gojo who, when he gets sick, demands attention 24/7. you're not there when he wakes up? he'll pout and be upset until he's had his fill of your cuddles. loves when you feed him while he's sick, it makes him feel so loved and taken care of.

satoru gojo who loves when you ask for his opinion. which outfit is nicer? well both of them look perfect on you, but that one brings out your skin tone. which show should you watch? what about the one where you'll love to watch together? it makes him feel so important when you ask what he prefers.

satoru gojo who kicks his feet and giggles when he gets a text from you. he's on a mission with suguru, shoving his phone in suguru's face giggling over whatever you said. the phone is so close to his face that whatever is on the screen isn't even legible at this proximity but it makes satoru skip like a little schoolgirl as he and suguru walk to wherever they've been assigned to.

satoru gojo who asks shoko for advice since she's a friend of yours. asking her questions like, "should I get them this or this?" or "do they like this or this better?"

satoru gojo who starts a book or tv series just because you recommended it to him. because when has his beautiful partner ever steered him wrong? this applies for any advice you've given him too

satoru gojo who makes you an example for megumi. "see this, megumi? your standards should be this high! look how perfect y/n is, you should find you a partner like that too!"

satoru gojo who shows you megumi's picture album of when he was younger because he loves to see the two most important people in his life bonding, even if it means embarrassing megumi.

on that note, satoru gojo who's apartment is filled with photos of you and megumi and all his friends and family, and his phone's wallpaper is a picture of you too

satoru gojo who watches old tapes of you and him in high school together a lot whenever you're on missions without him. the nostalgia makes him miss the times when everything was okay in high school, but it also makes him so grateful that he finally managed to make you his after pining for you for so long

satoru gojo who's possessive but in a boastful way, you posted a tiktok? he's the first like, comment, and save. spams your comment section saying, "THATS ACTUALLY MY S/O" and whatnot because he's absolutely obsessed with you

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer, who is absolutely no match for you because the moment you make eye contact with him, he just goes weak and can't say no to a single request of yours

©beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[aphelea]

like an old enemy (keefitz)

Ao3 Link

hi @when-wax-wings-melt i was your secret santa!! apologies for the late gift, it got slightly longer than expected, but i hope you enjoy this keefitz royal AU :)

(also thank you @song-tam for hosting this!)

quick note: the fic is non-linear and the scenes alternate between the adult and child/teenage versions of fitz and keefe, with excerpts of letters in between.

Summary: There’s a long pause before Keefe finally replies. “I swear to the moon and the stars, Fitz. I would never, ever kill the only person who ever loved me like a son.”

And how could Fitz’s will ever hold against that?

(Or, the story of two princes, through childhood wonder and wartime unrest.)

Warnings: vague mention of vomiting and canon-typical violence

-

The guards find Fitz in the garden at sunrise, pen in hand as he attempts to write a letter to be sent with tonight’s delivery to Candleshade. He is surrounded by drafts deemed unworthy of his intended recipient’s eyes—though, these days, Fitz thinks that nothing he could write would ever be truly worthy enough for him. No words could ever fully communicate what he needs to say—and yet he tries anyway.  

“You’re here early,” Fitz says, upon hearing approaching footsteps. He pats his pockets frantically and sighs. “I’m afraid I don’t have any payment for the delivery right now. Or a delivery at all, actually.” He turns, expecting to see the palace’s messenger—but he is instead met with the carefully blank faces of five goblin guards, each quickly moving to surround him. Grizel, his personal bodyguard, stands in the middle, but she refuses to meet his gaze—Fitz’s first clue that something is terribly wrong. 

“Your Highness,” one goblin begins, after a long moment of tense silence. “I—”

She’s cut off by a scream, loud and harrowed, from inside the palace. Immediately, Fitz scrambles up and reaches for his own sword, but is stopped by Grizel’s outstretched arm. He casts her a quizzical look, but she only shakes her head and looks toward the doors. 

“Who did this?” comes the next cry, now in his mother’s voice. Fitz’s heart stops for a moment. He’s never known such anguish from her. 

“Grizel?” he asks, and his voice wavers dangerously. “Who…”

Fitz can’t bring himself to say the words. Of course, it isn’t the first time that rebels have come after one of their own—he still vividly remembers the night of Jolie’s death, and how the fires had been so deceptively warm for a moment—but today, of all days? If he knew better, he’d take it as a sign from the universe. 

But even the universe could not have prepared him for the words Grizel utters. 

“King Alden,” she says quietly, and the world stops for a moment.

Even the birds are silent, as if mourning alongside him. 

Fitz’s throat thickens. He’d seen his father just hours ago, in this very garden. They’d spoken about the state of the world, and as always, he’d told Fitz that there was no reason to worry about the rebels, and Fitz had scoffed and told him to stop treating him like a child. Was that truly the last thing he’d said to him? The last thing he would ever say to him? 

His turmoil must be evident on his face, as Grizel reaches out and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. But he can only stare at the ground, unblinking. 

“I thought the palace was secure,” he says, after a long moment—ever since rebels burned the old Havenfield Palace, the Alliance kingdoms have been incredibly careful with who enters and exits the palace grounds. Everglen is perhaps the most secure kingdom of the five—or, rather, it used to be. 

From the grim expressions on the guards’ faces, that might no longer be the case.

“It appears to have been the work of a clever assassin,” Grizel says, and Fitz is surprised to see true fear in her eyes. In all his years of knowing her, nothing has ever shaken her composure, and certainly not enough to be plainly visible on her face. “They somehow exploited a secret entry into the palace just outside the gardens.” 

A secret entry. 

Fitz tries his best not to react, but he knows the recognition is all-too-obvious on his face. The only other person who knew about the path was…no, that’s impossible. He wouldn’t do this. 

And Fitz wants, so desperately, to believe it. He wants to say that he trusts him more than anything—but when it comes down to it, in the final choice between right and wrong? Fitz isn’t sure where he would go. 

Keefe has no reason to kill a king, he tells himself. 

But the people he keeps company with certainly do, his mind rather unhelpfully supplies. 

Fitz shakes his head, as if that will erase the presence of his thoughts. Why does he torment himself with speculation like this? He looks to Grizel, trying to appear as unshaken as possible, the furthest from his true turmoil. “Who did it?” he asks; the only way he has ever taken after his mother. 

Grizel is silent and unreadable. But she has experience in stealth that the other guards do not, so the glances between them are all-too-obvious to Fitz now. “Who did it?” he repeats, raising his voice. “Who? Answer me!”

“Fitz,” Grizel warns, in that familiar way that tells him he won’t like the answer. 

“Was it Alvar?” he asks, well aware that his voice is slipping into an unrestrained shout, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Quinlin? Biana?” She frowns, but remains silent. “Somebody just tell me!” He doesn’t realize he’s drawn his knife until it’s pointing at Grizel, tickling her throat. 

Gently, she removes it, watching him with all the sorrow he’s not sure he deserves. “We recovered one of the many arrows found at the scene. It carried a…familiar flag.”

“Of the rebels?” Fitz asks. He knows the sign of the swan by heart; he has known it since it graced the cloaks of Jolie’s murderers, all those years ago. And it would make sense—too much sense, perhaps.

“No,” she replies, her voice so soft it’s barely a whisper. “Though that would be more predictable.”

“Then who?” Fitz asks, racking his brain for another group that would both want his father dead and shatter him badly. He doesn’t exactly keep close connections with many people, personally. With war looming over them, it’s easier to trust nobody but the people he loves.

Grizel lets out a shaky breath. “It carried the flag of Candleshade.”

Oh.

Oh, God. 

Fitz leans over and throws up in the roses. 

-

Dear Prince Keefe,

Hi! It’s me. Fitz. Obviously you know that, because what other royal from Everglen would be writing to you (unless you’re secretly pen pals with Biana, which would be weird since she doesn’t even know how to send a letter yet. Also, her handwriting is atroshous atrocuos atrocious.) I figured since it takes forever to get from Candleshade to here, it might be easier for us to send letters while we can’t see each other. Although, my father says that your father is coming over next month for a trade meeting, so maybe you can come then?

(Please come. Biana and I are really bored without anyone else our age around.) 

Anyway, I used that goop you gave me earlier to prank my bodyguard. It worked! She was stuck to the wall and I swear it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Biana and I were laughing so hard that the other guards ran in because they thought we were choking! Then we had to get her out, sadly, and Grizel was pretty mad, even though some of the other guards were definitely laughing too. But at least I didn’t have to do my sword fighting training. So thank you! I’m sending some ripplefluffs along with this letter as a thank-you gift. 

(I didn’t make them, though. I’m still banned from the kitchens after that prank we pulled last time.)

Oh, and on that note, I also found…

-

The first time Fitz speaks to Keefe, it’s by Jolie’s insistence. They’re eight years old, sitting in the gardens of Everglen and pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes—it’s the first time that the prince of Candleshade has ever visited, and he seems to be much more interested in his sketchbook than speaking to any of the other children. Though Fitz isn’t exactly interested in being social, either; he’s still sulking from being banned from the meeting room, despite the fact that he’s certainly old enough to be discussing grown-up matters. And if Alvar is going to be there, then why isn’t Fitz allowed? It’s all stupid. And unfair. And stupidly unfair. 

The Princess of Havenfield, to her credit, listens to all of Fitz’s concerns. She doesn’t let him leave, of course, but at least she doesn’t treat him like a baby like other adults. This appeases Fitz a bit—but that still doesn’t mean he wants to run around the gardens playing games with his little sister and her new best friend. He’s not six anymore. 

“I know you’re not,” Jolie says, sighing. “But I’m sure they would still really appreciate it if you joined them. Hey, you two, what game are you playing?” She directs the last sentence to the two girls who are currently galloping around a tree and waving sticks around wildly. 

Princess Stina stops and grins. “Super Cowboys!” she shouts gleefully, then returns to hitting the air violently. Woltzer, Biana’s bodyguard, watches the whole situation with clear discomfort—it’s only a matter of time before he’s forced into playing one of their characters. Likely as whatever thing they’re killing. 

Jolie raises an eyebrow. “And what are you cowboys fighting?”

“Rebels,” Biana answers, glaring at whatever imaginary person she must see in front of her. “We’re fighting rebels!”

Jolie pales, ever so slightly, but she still manages a smile. “See?” she tells Fitz. “You can play a…rebel-fighting cowboy.”

“I don’t want to be a cowboy. I hate cowboys.” Truthfully, Fitz doesn’t know much about them, but he definitely doesn’t want to be running around with a bunch of babies. He’s almost nine. If he’s going to be a good prince for his kingdom, he has to give up on childish pretend games now. 

“Why?” Jolie asks. “Cowboys can be fun.”

“Yeah, but you only think that because you live in the land of cowboys. That’s different.” Fitz has never been to her kingdom, but he remembers learning about Havenfield during his diplomacy lessons—while it’s certainly not lawless, the towns on its outskirts are nowhere a prince should be sent to. Plus, it’s the closest Alliance kingdom to rebel country, so danger is always lurking around the corner outside the capital. 

Grizel snorts behind him, and Jolie sighs. “Look,” she tells him, standing up, “it’s fine if you don’t want to play with them. But your father told me to watch over you here, so don’t plan on going anywhere else. At least, nowhere where I can’t see you.”

Fitz only wrinkles his nose and turns away. Why can’t his father just trust him? Alvar’s been attending Alliance meetings since he was nine. And Fitz has excelled in all his lessons; he’s done even better than his brother in most of them. And he’s not ignorant, either—he knows why today’s meeting was called. He’s heard the whispers of the growing rebel conflicts in all the kingdoms; he’s heard the rumours being spread about the real reason the Crown Princess of Havenfield was sidelined to babysitting instead of speaking for her kingdom. Rebel sympathies, they say. Will Princess Jolie’s first act as queen be removing her kingdom from the Council Alliance? Who was the mysterious commoner seen at her Winnowing Gala? Is she truly planning on betraying her country?

“Maybe you can talk to Keefe, then,” Jolie says, after a moment. “I’m sure he’d like some company.”

“Who?” Fitz asks, and then notices the boy sitting on a bench near them, drawing quietly in a sketchbook. 

The boy—Keefe, apparently—looks up upon hearing his name. “I’m fine, actually,” he says, then returns to his drawing without giving Fitz so much as a glance. 

Fitz scoffs. “Yeah, me too,” he says, moving to sit on the furthest possible bench that’s still in Jolie’s sight. Which, unfortunately, isn’t far. He should really ask his father to build more benches in these gardens. 

For at least ten minutes, they sit in tense silence—Keefe, with his nose buried in his sketchbook, and Fitz, sulking and glaring at the dirt beneath him. Jolie and Grizel are having a conversation about the hardships of babysitting, or something. Fitz tunes them out. 

Then, he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to find Jolie looking at him with raised eyebrows. “What did the ground ever do to you?” she asks, gesturing to where he’s kicked up enough dirt to create a small hole in Everglen’s perfectly pristine path. Oops. 

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Fitz replies. It’s a lie. 

She sighs. “Why don’t you two just talk to each other? I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend you earlier. Besides, you two must be about the same age.”

Fitz huffs, but he knows she’s not wrong. He can’t sulk like this forever, after all. And the artist in front of him does look to be closer to his age—which is refreshing, since Fitz is used to spending all his time with either his six-year-old sister or his nineteen-year-old brother. Life in the palace isn’t exactly conducive to healthy social development, anyway. 

So he sighs, gets up, and sits down next to Keefe. “Hi,” he says, in a perfectly normal and very chill way. 

“Hi,” Keefe replies, still focused on his drawing. 

“Uh,” Fitz starts, but he doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s then that Keefe finally looks up and meets his gaze, and it’s then that Fitz suddenly realizes who the boy in front of him is: Keefe Sencen, Prince of Candleshade. Of course, how could he not have realized? He’s seen the king and queen of Candleshade dozens of times, as Everglen’s closest ally. Fitz had been vaguely aware that they had a son, though he’d never stopped to think about him much. 

“Want a cookie?” Keefe says, after a long moment of awkward silence. 

Fitz stares at him. “What?”

“Here.” Keefe shoves a cookie in his face, and Fitz accepts—at first, for politeness, but then he takes a bite and he’s not sure he’s ever tasted a cookie this good. “I made them yesterday.”

“You…made these?” Fitz replies, frowning slightly. He’s never even been in the Everglen kitchens. And he doubts he could make a cookie that’s even edible, much less tasty.

Keefe shrugs. “Yeah. I like baking. It takes my mind off things.”

“Wow,” Fitz says with wide eyes. “I wish I had time to learn that. I feel like I spend all my time in lessons or training or something.”

Keefe snorts. “Oh, I’m supposed to be doing that. I just skip.”

Fitz’s jaw drops. “You…skip? Your lessons?”

“Yeah,” Keefe replies casually—clearly, he has no idea how much he’s just completely overhauled Fitz’s mind. “If I don’t want to be there, I just don’t go. Besides, I already know pretty much everything they try to teach me.” He pauses and wrinkles nose. “Except for the sword fighting stuff. That stuff sucks.”

“Woah,” Fitz breathes. “That’s pretty cool.”

The longer they talk, the more Fitz starts to forget about the meeting he’d so desperately wanted to attend. Something about this boy—a boy like no other he’s met before—is entrancing, the only puzzle Fitz has ever encountered that he hasn’t been able to decipher immediately. 

He resolves, that night, that one day he will figure out the mystery of Prince Keefe Sencen. 

No matter how long it takes. 

-

Dear Keefe,

I think something serious is happening. You know how your father arrived in Everglen over the weekend? I’ll admit, I was kind of disappointed that you weren’t with him, but I think I understand why now. He, King Grady, and my father have been locked in the King’s office for nearly three days now—and every time I see them, they have these terrible, grim expressions on their faces. I’ve been asking everyone for information, but nobody will tell me anything! Not even Alvar. He keeps telling me that everything is fine. What a liar. 

I know that it’s something to do with the rebels, though. I can see it in their eyes. 

Anyway. I just want to make sure you’re okay, since I heard that there were a lot of rebel attacks in Candleshade recently, and you haven’t responded to my last letter yet…no pressure to respond quickly, of course. I just like knowing that you’re not dead. 

I miss you I hope you’re okay, Keefe…

-

“You have a lot of nerve asking me to come here,” Fitz says. He doesn’t turn around; he won’t give Keefe the satisfaction of looking into his eyes, no matter how much he desperately wants to. 

Keefe’s breath is warm on his neck—it’s December, and Fitz is so, so cold without someone to hold—and he sighs. “And yet, you still came.”

“I need to know why,” Fitz says. He keeps his gaze trained on the horizon, even as Keefe moves to stand in front of him, begging for his attention. What attention does he deserve? The attention of a prison guard, perhaps. Not a prince. 

Keefe shakes his head in Fitz’s peripheral vision. “I didn’t know,” he says, and Fitz can only scoff. 

“Didn’t know what?” he says incredulously. “That I would find out? Your kingdom’s flag was on the arrow that killed him! They found footprints on the path behind the roses—the path that only you and I know about. I’m not stupid, Keefe. I know what that means.” Fitz is well aware that he’s shouting, now, but they’re deep enough into the woods that he doesn’t quite care anymore. He directs his fury at the air beside Keefe’s perfectly-maintained curls—of course he has the nerve to look pretty even among all this pain. Fitz wouldn’t expect any less. 

But Keefe only stares at him, with something akin to grief in his eyes. “Fitz, please,” he begs, stepping forward. “Look at me.” And if they were just a few years younger, Fitz wouldn’t have hesitated to do so; after all, most of their childhood had been spent following each other blindly. Now, though, they are both hardened by the war at their borders; now, Fitz shouldn’t trust Keefe as he once did, even if his faith in him has become muscle memory. 

 “Just tell me it wasn’t you,” is all Fitz can manage to say without succumbing.  

There’s a long pause before Keefe finally replies. “I swear to the moon and the stars, Fitz. I would never, ever kill the only person who ever loved me like a son.” 

And how could Fitz’s will ever hold against that?

So he gives in, and finally meets the gaze of the only man who could ever ruin him; it’s stormy, terrifying, and all too familiar. Under the moonlight, it reminds Fitz of their younger days—before war caught up to them, when they would spend most of their nights together running off to where they weren’t meant to be and ignoring the shouts from their bodyguards in favour of each other. He’s forced to remember that the boy in front of him is the same boy who taught him how to prank his tutors, years and years ago; the same boy who taught him that love is as easily taken away as it is given. 

“What happened to you?” Fitz asks, and even he’s not quite sure what he means by it. 

Keefe chuckles dryly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

It’s then that Fitz notices the bruises on his cheeks, nearly covered by the blood and mud smudged across his skin. “You’re hurt,” he realizes. He reaches out to examine further, but stops midway—he can’t hold Keefe like this anymore. They aren’t who they once were. 

“Oh, that,” Keefe says, rubbing his face. “I lost a fight with some rebels.”

Fitz gapes at him. “What?”

Keefe looks away and moves his hair across his face, presumably trying to hide the extent of his injuries. “They attacked the palace three days ago. It shouldn’t have been as bad as it was—we have more than enough forces to counter them—but they were one step ahead of us. As they always are.”

A million situations run through Fitz’s mind, but he’s studied the rebel tactics long enough to understand what Keefe is saying. “They had people on the inside.”

Keefe nods. “They knew every weakness in our defense, and every single passage in or out of the palace. Even the ones I thought only I knew about. I was only able to run because Ro fought them off behind me.” 

That means… “So the rebels killed my father, then.”

Keefe pauses. “I don’t know. I’ve been on the road for three days—I didn’t even know he was dead until I got into town. But I can’t imagine that my father would choose to make an enemy out of our only allies.”

Fitz sucks in a breath. “Which can only mean that Candleshade has fallen.” It seems almost impossible, but if what Keefe is telling him is true…then the rebels have grown much more powerful than he ever thought. 

“This is the start of the real war,” Keefe says quietly. “They’ll stop at nothing to take down the Alliance. And with your father dead…Everglen is definitely going to be next. It’s an easy opening for them.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to prepare for a fight,” Fitz says. “After that, hopefully, we can help you reclaim Candleshade.” And with it, perhaps, they can reclaim some of themselves too. 

At this—strangely—Keefe’s face falls, and he winces. “About that…” he begins, and suddenly, he won’t meet Fitz’s eyes. “I’m leaving.”

Fitz stares at him. “What?”

“I can’t stay here,” Keefe says. “You said it yourself—people think I’m a killer. And even once I tell them I’m not, if they believe me…what can I do? The rebels need me dead to end the line; they’ll be searching for me everywhere. I’ll only bring death to your door even quicker.” He chuckles, though it’s as dry as the winter air surrounding them.

The idea is so absurd, Fitz can’t even believe it’s coming out of his mouth. “So, what, your best solution is to run away?” Fitz snaps. “You have a duty, Keefe! A duty to your kingdom, a duty to your legacy, a duty to—” He stops himself before he can say something ridiculous like a duty to me. 

Keefe scoffs. “I have no obligation to a kingdom that despises every bone in my body.”

“You’re a prince.”

“I’m well aware,” Keefe snaps. “Not all of us are as obsessed with our legacies as you, Fitzroy.” The name is like a punch to the stomach; it’s a dirty trick, hitting where he knows it’ll hurt Fitz the most. 

The reply tumbles out of his mouth before he can fully process what he’s saying. “Then maybe you should just leave!” Fitz says. “Clearly I can’t stop you.”

For a moment, the devastation is evident on Keefe’s face, But it’s gone in just a second, replaced by a fiery determination unlike any Fitz has seen before. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

 Is this what you want, Fitzroy?

“I’m not the one who called you here. I don’t care what you do,” he lies. “I haven’t cared in a long, long time.” Lies, lies, and more lies. Keefe can see through it, of course—he knows Fitz better than to believe anything he says out loud. 

“Fine,” Keefe says. “Then I guess this is it.” 

He turns, and Fitz can only watch, frozen, as Keefe mounts his horse. Say something, his mind begs him, Tell him you don’t mean it! But wouldn’t that be too easy?

He waits silently, until Keefe is entirely out of earshot, before he mutters one final wish to the wind—perhaps Keefe might think he’s forgotten about what today is, but of course, he hasn’t. He can’t. “Happy birthday, Keefe,” he says, hoping that the wind can carry his message home. 

Then, he begins on the path back home, and resolves to forget that this—that Keefe—ever happened. 

He fails, obviously.

-

Keefe,

Do you see her too? In your dreams, in your nightmares…Do you hear her screaming? Because I do, every single day and it doesn’t stop please Keefe you’re the only one who understands

Look, I know there’s snow piling outside my window, I know it should be icy and frigid and terrible without a fire on—but somehow I can’t stop feeling like every inch of me is warming up, exponentially and endlessly until I’m burnt to a crisp. Like a pig on a spit, forever roasting. 

And logically, I know we’re not there anymore; I know I’m safe behind the walls of Everglen—well, as safe as anyone can be, in these times. But somehow, for some reason, I can’t stop feeling like I’m still stuck in Havenfield, doomed to watch her burn forever. 

I guess what I’m asking is…does it haunt you too? Does she haunt you too?

You’re the only one who saw it like I did. Running to the woods for just a moment, and then we come back and the world’s on fire right in front of our faces…were we the last people she saw? The last people whom she trusted, I mean. 

Or maybe I shouldn’t be asking these kinds of questions. It’ll only make it worse—at least, that’s what my mother says. But what does she know of real terror?

I think life was easier when I saw the rebels as this distant, intangible thing. I used to be obsessed with being allowed into Alliance meetings, and I never understood why they wouldn’t let me in when I knew so much about the war—but I understand now. I had the information, but I didn’t truly know them. I didn’t have the fear that’s required to really understand what they’re capable of. I didn’t have these dreams that remind me of how cruel the world can really be to people who don’t deserve it.

I do now, though. 

I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because nobody else listens? My mother tries, but she just can’t understand what I’m feeling. And my brother keeps ignoring me, for some reason. I’m trying not to read too much into it. 

I just wish you were here, Keefe. Being around you is kind of like a cure for everything, you know? Like I’m a walking wound and you cauterize me. Or maybe you burn me. I’m not quite sure yet.

-

The unfortunate consequence of sneaking out of the palace at night is that the much-harder process of sneaking in has to occur eventually. 

The first time Fitz and Keefe find themselves in this predicament, they’re fifteen, and regretting many of the night’s decisions as they stare up at the heavily guarded palace in front of them. Sneaking out hadn’t been incredibly difficult, surprisingly. It’s Grizel’s day off, and her substitutes aren’t quite used to the antics of the young royals yet, so they’d employed Biana to distract the goblins—with a promise to do whatever she wants for the next three days—and had successfully lowered themselves out through a first-story window. Easy. 

What’s less easy, however, is getting back in. They’ve searched for an easy entrance back into Fitz’s room for nearly an hour, now, to no avail—and Fitz is starting to shiver, in the cool autumn air. 

“Do you want my cloak?” Keefe asks, and he doesn’t even wait for a response before slipping it off. 

“Won’t you be cold?” Fitz replies, staring at his friend with wide eyes—Candleshade is considerably warmer than Everglen, so there’s no way Keefe is used to the cold here. Fitz isn’t even used to the harsh winters of his home, and he’s lived here his whole life.

Keefe shrugs. “I’m really not cold, and your nose is turning red, so.” 

Fitz probably turns even more red at the comment. “I’m fine,” he swears, and Keefe raises his eyebrows. “...Maybe I’m a little cold,” he concedes. 

With the admission, Keefe grins and reaches around Fitz’s shoulders to wrap his cloak around him. He’s forced to step closer to pin it shut, and Fitz finds his face burning once again at their proximity. Please don’t notice, he begs, but of course, the universe hates him. 

“Are you okay?” Keefe asks, frowning. “You look a little weird.” He hasn’t moved, yet—he’s still just inches away from Fitz, so close that he can make out all the little scars on Keefe’s face. 

“I’m fine,” Fitz replies, and he knows he’s staring. But how can he not, when Keefe is so close? 

What he doesn’t expect is for Keefe to meet his gaze with equal intensity, a small smirk growing on his lips. “Are you?” he asks, with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

And for a moment, Fitz is stunned speechless. 

Then Keefe leans forward, kisses him lightly on the cheek, and steps back as if it’s just a casual motion—as if he hasn’t just stopped and started Fitz’s heart all in the span of two seconds. “Hey, what’s that?” he calls, already running toward a random patch of roses before Fitz can say a word.  

Not that Fitz knows what he would say, if Keefe had waited. He can’t confess to feelings that he doesn’t understand. 

So he runs after Keefe, as he always does, bracing himself for the pain of the thorns. Hopefully the healers don’t ask too many questions about his cuts and bruises from the night—though it’ll be obvious to them once they notice that he matches Keefe. (It’s nice, knowing that they’ve been marked together. Even when the wounds fade, his memories certainly won’t.)

“What are you doing?” Fitz whispers once he finds Keefe crawling beneath a particularly thick rosebush. 

“There’s something beyond this,” Keefe says, pushing forward. “Something hidden in the roses. I think it’s a clearing of some sort.”

Fitz scoffs. “Why would there be a hidden clearing in the middle of our gardens? What could we possibly have to hide—”

“I found it!” Keefe suddenly exclaims. “Come on, come through!”

Well. That’s certainly strange. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mutters to himself as he makes his way through the dirt, wincing each time a thorn catches on his clothes. Thankfully, he has Keefe’s cloak to protect his arms—though he can’t imagine how scratched up Keefe must be, with only a sleeveless tunic to protect him. 

 After a minute of fighting a maze of flowers, Fitz emerges in a dark clearing, with flowers above blocking the moonlight. The ground beneath him is dusty, and he realizes with a start that this isn’t just a clearing—it’s a path. “What the hell?” he mutters, and Keefe snorts. 

“It’s a bit concerning that the Prince of Everglen isn’t aware of a secret passage into his palace,” Keefe says, and Fitz can tell he’s grinning even without seeing him. 

“This goes all the way into the palace?” Fitz asks, glancing around at the little he can see. 

“Yeah,” Keefe replies. “I followed it to the end. Turns out, Everglen isn’t quite as secure as it claims to be.”

And Fitz really shouldn’t be celebrating a secret breach in the castle’s defense. But clearly, no potential intruder is aware of it, since no-one seems to have discovered it…so there’s really no harm in using it himself, right? “You know what this means, Keefe?” he asks. 

“What?”

A Keefe-like grin makes its way onto Fitz’s lips. “This means we can get in and out of the castle any time we want.” It’s both a terrifying and exhilarating thought—for the first time in his life, he’s free. At least, in some sense of the word. 

Keefe laughs. “I guess you’re right,” he says, smiling softly. “Oh, and, by the way, I have a gift for you.”

At this, Fitz raises his eyebrows. “A gift?” he repeats. “Why? It’s not my birthday.”

Keefe shrugs. “I just thought you would like it.”

“Oh.” Oh. It’s a strange feeling, to be known like this, and Fitz loves every second of it. He watches Keefe bring something out of his pocket and hand it to him, gentle and delicate, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is—then he’s blushing wildly again. “Is this a rose?”

Keefe smiles. “Yeah. It’s classic, you know?”

Fitz does know. In fact, he knows quite well, since he’s read practically every novel in the library…but Keefe can’t possibly mean it like that.

In response to his shocked silence, Keefe steps forward and tucks a strand of Fitz’s hair behind his ear. His hand then falls to Fitz’s chin—still as gentle a touch as ever—and Fitz can barely breathe. Maybe he’s reading far too much into this, but… “Isn’t a kiss classic, too?”

Keefe grins. “I suppose it is.” And Fitz doesn’t know how long he’s been waiting to hear it, or how long he’s been waiting to step forward and hold Keefe’s face like this—like a lover, like a dearest friend. But he holds him, now, and it feels like releasing a breath of air he never knew he’d been holding. 

Keefe’s lips are as soft as morning sunlight. 

And Fitz’s world has never been so peaceful.

-

Dear Keefe,

I wish we could live forever. Just you and I, immortals for eternity—wouldn’t it be fun? We could look at the stars together, every night until the end of the world. We could speak as we wish and love as we’d like and nobody would have the guts to bother us…we’d be gods, really, in our own little world. 

But since we aren’t immortals, I think I’d like to know you for every remaining night of my mortal life. And who knows how long that will be?

Truthfully, Keefe, I’m terrified. I’m terrified that this war will take over our lives and we’ll forget who we truly are amidst the chaos. I’m terrified that I’ll become someone who you don’t know how to want anymore—I fear, sometimes, that I already am. 

I just wish you and I could stay the same forever. I know it’s ridiculous—impossible, even—but wouldn’t it be nice to have something constant in our lives?

Just promise you’ll never let go of me, Keefe. Not until our dying breaths. 

-

“I heard about Keefe,” Biana says from the doorway, and Fitz startles. He’d been so engrossed in watching his ceiling that he hadn’t even noticed her come in—a luxury he doesn’t have, now that rebels could be coming for him any day now. 

“What about him?” he asks, forcing himself to seem as nonchalant as possible. 

It’s impossible to hide anything from his sister, after all these years together. “That he’s gone,” she states, three simple words for such a complex thing. “I’m surprised you’re not with him.”

Fitz scoffs. “I wouldn’t abandon our family like that. Especially not now.” Not now, when the throne where Alden should sit still lies vacant, with no agreement on who should fill it next. Not now, when there could be killers around every corner. 

Biana’s expression softens, and she moves to sit beside him on his bed. “I know,” she says quietly. “But…don’t you ever wish you could? Just leave, and be free of all this. Be a normal person.”

Every single day, he wants to say. But these are times that call for his strengths, not his weaknesses. “That’s what the rebels want us to do,” he says. “Run away from our lives, and give them our kingdom without a fight. We can’t give up so easily.” 

“But we can’t let our fear of them control our lives, either,” Biana replies. “Let yourself be selfish for once, Fitz. What do you actually want to do? Who do you actually want to be?”

Fitz laughs dryly. “When did you become so wise?” he asks, hoping to avoid a real answer. But she keeps her gaze sharp and steady on him, and he realizes that there is nowhere for him to run from this. “I don’t know,” he finally answers—the most honest he’s been with himself in a very long time. 

Biana smiles. “Yeah. Me neither,” she says, and it’s strangely comforting.

But as peaceful as not knowing sounds, Fitz knows that he can’t afford to indulge it for very long. Perhaps, as a child, he’d been able to run and play to his heart’s content, but those days are gone now. Those people are gone. 

“I can’t afford to be selfish, though,” he tells her. “Maybe in a few years, once this is all over, I can be who I want. But not today.”

For a long moment, Biana just looks at him, with something like sadness in her eyes. “Well,” she finally says, her voice wavering slightly, “I suppose you’ll make a great king, then.”

What?

Fitz sits up so quickly that there are spots in his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he asks, because there’s no way she’s saying what he thinks she is. Because that would mean…

“Alvar officially abdicated this morning,” she tells him, softly. “The throne is yours now.”

Fitz…doesn’t even know what to think. For as long as he can remember, he’s had a set path for his future—Alvar would be king, and Fitz would work by his side, a prince with the freedom to travel the continent, learning everything he possibly can. “Why would he abdicate?”

Biana sighs. “You know he and Dad were never on the best terms.” It’s true, though Fitz hadn’t understood why until he was nearly an adult. Alvar has always had drastically different ideas on how to run the kingdom, and there were certain things that Alden simply wasn’t willing to change. 

The older he gets, the more Fitz realizes that neither of his idols are quite what they seemed to be.  

“You know, you don’t have to do it,” Biana says. “You don’t have to bear the burden of the crown just because it fell to you. We have more than enough cousins to give it to.”

And the idea is tempting, for a moment. Handing off the crown and living life as a normal citizen, away from the pain that this palace has brought him…but he has a duty, both to his father and to his kingdom. Fitz was raised a prince, unlike his cousins—this has to be his burden to bear. It has been his burden since he was born. 

“No,” he tells Biana. “I won’t run away. Not anymore.”

If this is what his destiny is, then so be it. 

Fitz will be a king. 

-

Dear Keefe,

My Winnowing Gala is set for November. 

Isn’t it strange, how old we are now? I don’t feel old enough to get married. Or engaged, even. Though I suppose I don’t have much of a choice—with how long Alvar is waiting, my family is itching for a wedding. To bring joy to the citizens, if nothing else. 

Anyway, I’m writing to you to ask if you can come. I need someone sane to be around while everyone is caught up in the chaos of finding me a perfect match. That, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve attended a single gala without you since we were twelve, and there’s no reason to change that now. 

Also, I miss you. 

Please come. 

- 

Fitz spends the first ten minutes of his Winnowing Gala hiding in his bedroom, watching the swarms of carriages arriving through his window. There can’t possibly be this many women here to see him. This must be more people attending than he’s met in his entire life—though given that he’s only ever had two friends who weren’t related to him, perhaps that isn’t much of a bar to set. 

While he panics, Keefe is standing at the vanity, aggressively scrunching hair gel into his curls. “You look fine,” Fitz says, after hearing far too many frustrated grunts—and then he really stops to look at him. “More than fine, actually. You look incredible. So stop fussing around with it!”

“The beauty is in the details,” Keefe replies, carefully adjusting one singular strand of hair. “It has to curl away from my face. Not toward. That’s my secret to looking perfect everyday.” He sends Fitz a wink, and for some reason, Fitz’s face burns. Charming fool. 

But he rolls his eyes anyway. “You would look perfect even if you dyed your hair green and shaved half of it off,” Fitz says, and immediately regrets it as a grin grows on Keefe’s lips. 

“Good idea,” Keefe replies, that familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye—but before he can elaborate on his terrible plan, they’re interrupted by a loud banging on the door, accompanied by a chorus of shouts. 

“Your highness, where the hell are you?” comes Grizel’s voice. 

“You lovesick fools better be hiding in there, or I’ll kill you!” comes Ro’s. 

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, get your ass out here right now!” And Biana. 

None are particularly promising. 

Fitz immediately runs to hide behind his curtains—he can’t possibly go down there and speak to all those people, what if they hate him? What if he trips and falls in front of everybody? What if he scares off every single possible match?

(That last one doesn’t seem so bad, actually. It’s not like he wants to get married soon. He can’t imagine falling in love with anyone else, right now.)

Keefe grabs his wrist before he can fully tuck himself away. “Fitz,” he says, and his voice is suddenly serious. “You’ll have to go eventually, you know. Might as well get it over with now.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to have a Gala,” Fitz says with a scoff. “Suddenly you’re a fan?”

Keefe sighs, but his hold on Fitz’s arm never wavers. It’s a comforting constant, right now. “I didn’t want you to go through with it only because your family asked you to. I thought you, of all people, should get at least somewhat of a choice in who you love...but it’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? The Gala is happening. So we might as well show up, if all of this is in your honour.”

“I suppose,” Fitz agrees, electing to ignore the parts he doesn’t understand. He has his suspicions, of course, as to what Keefe is implying—they’re suspicions he’s carried himself, after all—but this is hardly the time to be thinking about that. Now that he is about to walk into the traditions of a prince, he cannot be bound to his past distractions. 

Though his worst distraction still sits here, holding his wrist gently as if it were porcelain. And Fitz cannot bring himself to send him away. (He brought him here, after all, despite his parents’ protests—rarely are friends allowed to attend Winnowing Galas, but Fitz had insisted. He couldn’t bear to think about love for a whole night without the boy who personified it by his side.)

Another series of loud bangs on the door prompts Keefe to stand up, bringing Fitz with him. He sends Fitz a look—the kind only the two of them can decipher—and Fitz nods. He is as ready as he can ever be—which still isn’t quite ready at all.  

“Finally,” Biana says when they open the door. “I’ve been fielding questions about you left and right. Your potential matches are awfully inquisitive.” 

Keefe snorts. “Good luck with that.”

As it turns out, when they reach the gala, the attendees are indeed strangely curious about him—his favourite colours, his morning routine, his favourite things to cook, and more ridiculously irrelevant things. More than once, their conversations fall into awkward silence, because Fitz finds that he has nothing substantial to say to them. He isn’t actually interested in finding a wife here, anyway. 

Though many of them aren’t even here for him—they’re only here to see the legendary palace of Everglen, and he’s simply their ticket inside. Which he doesn’t quite mind, except for when they’re swarming him and asking him a million questions about the size and the material and the location of the palace…things that he doesn’t know, and things that he cares even less to talk about. 

And now there’s about twenty people trying to talk to him at once, and probably at least one hundred people surrounding him, crushing him, suffocating him, and suddenly Fitz just can’t breathe. 

“Get me out of here,” Fitz whispers to Keefe, interrupting his conversation with some blonde Noble from Havenfield who looks eerily like Jolie. 

Keefe mutters an apology to the girl—Sophie, apparently—and immediately slips out of the room beside him, a worried expression on his face. “Are you alright?” he asks, and Fitz shakes his head. 

“There’s people everywhere,” he says. “Nobody is giving me space to even think.” 

Keefe sighs. “Yeah, well, seeing how many people are on that list, I’m not surprised you’re overwhelmed.” He gestures to the wall behind them, where a long scroll is pinned to the wall, covered with a long list of names and check marks. 

“Oh,” Fitz realizes. “That’s my match list.” He never even knew that they had taken it from his bedroom—but, then again, he had stayed as far away as possible from the gala planning. 

Keefe walks forward to examine it, and Fitz’s breath catches. These two worlds—his duty and his choice, his head and his heart—were never meant to exist so close to one another. And yet, here Keefe is. 

“Your number one match is Sophie,” Keefe reads out, his expression indecipherable. “She seems nice enough. Maybe you should consider her.” 

The words are so incredibly foreign to hear—Keefe, telling him to marry someone else. Some stranger. As if Fitz was ever truly going to walk out of this ball engaged. He doubts he’s even capable of giving his heart to anyone else, now. He’s invested too much of it in one place. In one man. 

“You know,” Fitz says, after a long moment, “I wanted it to be you.” It’s as close to a confession as he’s ever gotten, and Fitz regrets the words immediately after they’re spoken. Now, Keefe is staring at him like he’s said something outlandish, when it’s certainly nothing he didn’t already know.

After a minute, Keefe rips his gaze away from Fitz, and stares at the wall with the intensity of a thousand stars. 

“Keefe?” Fitz says. If only he could read his thoughts. 

Keefe shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly it’s almost lost in the din of the Gala. 

“What?”  

Keefe sighs. “You deserve someone better than your kingdom and better than me. I’m not what you really want, Fitz. You just don’t know any better.” 

And before Fitz can respond, before he can protest that he’s not a child, he knows exactly what he wants—Keefe is gone. Out the main doors, into the rain. 

And the silence that lingers has never felt more suffocating. 

-

Dear Keefe,

Happy birthday, you idiot.  

I miss you. 

Please respond. 

What the hell am I writing?

I can’t tell what you want from me. You tell me to want freely, and then tell me I shouldn’t want you. You want me to live selfishly, and then claim I can’t live beside you. Do you despise me? Do you fear me? 

Or is it that you’re too afraid of it all, yourself?

I know that I can be both your prince and Everglen’s. I resigned myself to living two lives, long ago—but you? You’ve always wanted more. More than your duty, more than our secrets—but when will it all be enough?

Part of me doesn’t even want to send this letter, because I know you won’t respond to it. 

Happy birthday, Keefe. I hope you think of me. 

-

His coronation is far too grand for the times, but Fitz lets it slide. The kingdom needs some joy, after all. (And a distraction from the fact that their new king, who is supposed to lead them through war, is barely twenty years old.)

There’s still over an hour before it’s set to start, but the hall is already filled with decorations and massive displays of opulence. The guest list is small, by Fitz’s own request—he can’t risk inviting anyone he doesn’t know well into the heart of the palace. It would be far too easy for someone to send an arrow through his throat while he’s distracted, even with Grizel’s extra security measures. 

Right now, though, he’s more concerned with trying to find his siblings. In the chaos, he somehow managed to lose Biana, and Alvar is, of course, nowhere to be seen. Though that isn’t entirely unexpected; ever since Fitz had agreed to take the throne, his brother hasn’t spoken even a word to him. Alvar walks out of every room Fitz enters, eats only in his own bedroom, and refuses to even look at him. Fitz can’t deny that it hurts—in the span of just a month, he’s lost three of the most important people in his life, and only one is actually dead. 

But he pretends to be unfazed, for the sake of Everglen. He can’t let his personal issues get in the way of leading his kingdom. 

Through the crowd, Fitz suddenly notices Alvar, pushing through and running with some strange sense of urgency. Where could he possibly need to go right now? There’s nothing in that wing of the palace except for…

Except for Fitz’s room. 

Fitz drops his staff and rushes after him. 

But when he finally reaches his bedroom, he finds it to be empty. “Odd,” he mutters aloud. He looks around, but everything seems to be as he left it in the morning, with nobody else in sight. Fitz could’ve sworn he saw Alvar run up these stairs. Where else could he have gone? 

He gets his answer in the form of cool metal to the back of his neck and a sudden, strong grip on his shoulder. 

“Don’t move,” Alvar snarls, pressing his dagger into Fitz’s skin. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Fitz snaps. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t let you become King,” Alvar says. “I can’t let you continue this madness.”

Fitz scoffs. “What madness?”

“The madness of the Alliance, Fitz!” he spits. “Not one of these kingdoms truly cares about their people. Don’t you see? The endless exiling of so-called rebels, the matchmaking system—it’s all built for maximum control.”

“So your solution is to kill me?” Fitz replies, and he so desperately wants to run, but he needs to understand whatever curse has befallen his brother. This cannot be the man he idolized as a child. 

“I had high hopes for you,” Alvar says. “You used to be more than a prince, you used to have passion! I really thought you would be the one to change things, when we were younger. Now I see you’re no better than your father.”

“Our father was a good man!” Fitz protests, but even he can’t entirely believe it. 

Alvar scoffs. “Alden was a good king, but he could never be more than that. That’s why he had to go.”

It’s a strange way to word the statement, and to Fitz, it almost seems like… “You’re talking as if you killed him.” The idea is absurd, but the more he thinks about it, Fitz can’t deny its plausibility. In the months leading to the King’s death, Alden and Alvar had had such dramatic disagreements that practically the whole palace knew about them. Fitz had been too worried about Keefe to really pay attention, then, but…it certainly makes sense. 

“Because he did,” a voice suddenly says from the shadows behind them. 

Fitz’s blood runs cold. 

Alvar’s dagger falls from his neck and he pushes Fitz to the floor, whirling to face the intruder. A cloaked figure emerges from the corner, a pair of curved blades in their hands—blades that Fitz is all too familiar with. 

“Keefe Sencen,” Alvar sneers, stepping backward. “The disgraced prince returns.”

But when Keefe’s hood falls, Fitz is practically faced with a stranger—his face is decorated with scars from all manner of weapons, and his once-beloved hair is now a tangled mess that reaches past shoulders. No longer is he the man Fitz had known. This is someone new. 

“I’m not a prince anymore,” Keefe says, bringing his hand to his chest where a small pendant sits—too small for Fitz to really make out what it is. But Alvar seems to recognize it, as his eyes widen.

“So the Black Swan have finally decided to emerge from the shadows,” Alvar says, reaching for the sword at his waist. “How cute.”

“Step away from the king,” is Keefe’s only response.

Alvar glances between the blades, both pointed at him, and Keefe’s dark scowl. “And what if I don’t?” he asks. “What will you do when the strongest kingdom in the Alliance falls to us?” He steps forward, drawing his own sword and matching Keefe’s stance. 

Quietly, Fitz draws himself up to a sitting position. Neither Keefe nor Alvar are paying attention to him anymore—they’re too focused on each other, waiting for the first strike. And while Fitz knows that he and Keefe have been strangers for far too long, he doubts that Keefe’s skills in swordsmanship have improved enough over the past year to beat Alvar. He’d been a sword fighting prodigy in his youth, after all. 

So while they circle each other, Fitz draws his own dagger from his pocket—a gift from his father, once upon a time. He wonders how Alden would feel, if he saw his sons now. Probably disgusted. 

And then it all happens at once—Alvar lunges toward Keefe, and Keefe parries wildly though it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Fitz scrambles to stand up, watching with increasing alarm as Alvar pushes closer and closer toward Keefe. There’s a clear winner, already, and Fitz knows this fight will not end until Keefe is too injured to fight any longer. 

He watches Alvar kick Keefe to the floor, some unbridled fury in his eyes. And as he holds his blade above Keefe’s chest, Fitz realizes he has only one option. 

He lunges and tackles Alvar to the floor, sinking his dagger into the skin above his collarbone. 

It’s deathly quiet, for a moment. 

Then Alvar starts gagging, and Fitz suddenly realizes that his hand is covered in blood. The blood of his brother. 

“Fitz,” Keefe says, his voice wavering. “What did you do?”

Alvar squirms beneath him, and the horror of what Fitz has done washes over him like a wave of fire. “I had to,” he says, as if he can make himself believe it. “He was going to kill you.”

Keefe is silent, for a moment. Then, he says, “I didn’t think you would care if I died anymore.”

“No,” Fitz replies, laughing bitterly. “I didn’t think I would either.” Somehow, in the month since he’d left, Fitz had managed to convince himself that he didn’t care about Keefe at all. He’d convinced himself that he had finally grown out of his old distractions; that with the crown, he could be reborn with a fresh heart to give.  

But the blood on his hands is proof that he can never truly break free of his childhood devotion. And the body beneath him is proof that he has let this love corrupt him beyond his ideals. 

“I hate that I love you,” he confesses, and it’s as much a confession to himself as it is to Keefe. 

Keefe rests a hand on his shoulder, as gentle as when they were kids. “I know,” he says. “I know you.”

I know you. 

And Fitz hates that he’s right. 

[mournfulroses]

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, from her novel titled "The Last Man," published in 1826

[artsyaprilmr]

CONFESSIONAL SCREENCAPS WOOO

[mad-girlslove-song]

when ethel cain said “i tried to be good am i no good am i no good am i no good” which started with her self-loathing after being abused by her father and neil perry said “i was good. i was really good” and then he killed himself because he knew that he would never be good enough for his father

[royalarchivist]

YD: Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal.

YD talked about meeting up with Tubbo while he was in Korea and shares two videos of them eating food at a Korean BBQ place!

MASSIVE thank you to @Forgetmelotz on Twitter, who translated and subtitled this video and gave me permission to share it on Tumblr! Please make sure to give the original video a like.

[Full Video and Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

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⚠️ This transcript is VERY LONG! ⚠️

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YD: So I was planning to have a dinner with Kei [a Kpop Idol / Singer], but unexpectedly, there's a foreigner friend I met on QSMP named Tubbo, he's from the UK, and apparently he's visiting Korea. And he posted an Instagram story about it. I saw it and was like "Wait, are you coming to Korea?" and it [Tubbo's post] even says Korea blah blah within the date two days after my birthday. So I sent him a DM and he responded with "Haven't you seen my Twitter DM?"

YD: I recently distanced myself a little from Instagram and Twitter for a while, yeah I didn't check my phone that often, and it turns out he messaged me about 3 - 4 days ago saying "YD, I'm flying to Korea! Blah blah–" so I was like "Oh, oh... I'm sorry I didn't see that!" and I checked the DM the day before he arrived here... I told him that I am so sorry and asked if I can meet him in person.

* [Translation note: this can also mean the other way around, ie: he may have asked her if they could meet in person]

YD: So we ended up seeing [each other] on the 21st. I was supposed to have dinner with Kei, so I told her "but my friend from abroad... is in Korea now... what should I do..." and we rescheduled the dinner to inviting her to come over next week. So um, the, right– Tubbo, Tubbo's friend [Eryn], Seoneng [one of YD's crew members] and Kang-si [YD's husband] the 5 of us had dinner together.

YD: We went to a Korean BBQ place. I was searching through restaurants thinking “Uh… which Korean restaurant should I take these foreigners to so that they would be super impressed?” [YD thanks a dono] Yeah, I was searching hard and so I asked Ryeori. You know the Kwak tori & Ryeori couple? Ryeori the hair designer, I asked him, “Reyori, I’m trying to buy a dinner for my foreigner friend, do you have any recommendations for where I should bring him?” and he started listing up like Michelin star-rated pork gukbap restaurants and stuff. Then he also tells me that it’s really difficult to find an actual Korean restaurant in Hongdae, like it’s difficult to find a decent place. There are mostly fusion Korean food [places]. But then he goes, “Oh, hey, this place looks fine” and recommends me this Korean BBQ restaurant. I decided to bring them there and fed them.

YD: The reason I liked that place was that they sell doenjang-jjigabe, galbi-tang, jeyuk bokkeum, and other dishes as well as their main menu, the beef KBBQ. The banchans [side dishes] were also served neatly, they even had japchae, they sold yukke. Obviously there are better Korean restaurants outside of Hongdae, but their hotel was located there. It wasn’t like he had a car here, so I was trying to meet them somewhere they can just walk to. So Hongdae it was. On top of that, YD 4-cuts is also located in Hongdae.** So I thought it would be the best to just eat out here. And while we were eating, I’ve recorded some videos.

** [Note: This is a photo booth event with custom YD frames, as show in the background of this video]

YD: [Scrolls through to find the videos and laughs] Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. [She thanks another dono] And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

[YD plays a video she took of Tubbo and Eryn at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Oh, ok. [?]: You should tell them how to eat it together.  Tubbo: You’re overestimating my chopstick skill.  [?]: Here. [Passes Tubbo some of the meat]  Tubbo: Oh, thank you. [?]: And here, together. Tubbo: Ok. [Takes a bite] Waitress: With this vegetable. Tubbo: Mm, it’s really sweet! [?]: Foreigners quite like it. Eryn: [Reaches over and tries some food too, struggling a bit with his chopsticks] [?]: Unexpected, right? [?]: Oh, they like yukke? [?]: They just need to get used to it. Waitress: I will grill and hand it over to you, so please help yourselves. [?]: Ok, thank you. Eryn: [Tries more food and gives it a thumbs-up] [?]: Hm, good?! Tubbo and Eryn: Yeah! Tubbo: So far 10/10.

[The video ends]

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal. They were eating it up. They drank soju, they ate some noodles, and even doenjang-jjigae. I’ve heard foreigners don’t really like the taste of doenjang-jjigae, but they ate pretty much [all] of it. The restaurant also had pot rice, so I made them try that too. They ate that well too.

[YD plays the second video she recorded of them at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Go crazy ok, yeah! Alright.

YD: We ordered naengmyeon for a palate cleanser too. We ordered a lot.

Tubbo: [Struggles to cut the noodles with the scissors that were handed to him]

YD: He’s asking why we cut the noodles.

Tubbo: [Manages to cut the noodles] Kang-si [?]: Ok, and- and– [does chopstick motion] Tubbo: [Laughs] What am I gonna need?  Eryn: Chopsticks? Kang-si [?]: Yeah. YD [?]: Chopsticks, mm. Eryn: [To Tubbo] You go first. Tubbo: [Inaudible] Why is it cold? YD [?]: Oh, because the noodle is cold.

YD: Yeah, he found it interesting that the noodle is cold.

Tubbo: [He struggles with his chopsticks] Oh no, oh no… [Everyone laughs] Kang-si [?]: Very difficult. Ok! Tubbo: [Manages to fish some noodles out and holds his hand under them so they don’t splash everywhere as he transports them to his bowl] Seoneng [?]: Oh, uh, oh! It might be difficult for them to eat that. YD [?]: Hm? Kang-si [?]: Do you want some, Seoneng? Gimme the chopsticks, I’ll share you some. Eryn: [To Tubbo] Slippery. How did you get it?  Kang-si [?]: I’ll give you some, hand me the chopsticks. Seoneng [?]: Can I hand you mine? Just a small amount, please.

YD: They mimicked how Kangseok [Kang-si, YD’s husband] handles the noodles. Like, picking up the noodles like this and moving it to your dish.

Tubbo: That’s why you’re better than me (?).

YD: That’s Seoneng.

Kang-si [?]: Here’s your chopsticks, Seoneng. Eryn: I think this is enough. YD [?]: Oh, he’s taking some to his dish. Seoneng [?]: He learned. Tubbo: Do you like, spin 'em? Seoneng [?]: Scissors? Kang-si [?]: Like– [He holds up his chopsticks and shows them how to do it. Ok. OK! Eryn: [Picks up only a few noodles, which dangle] Seoneng [?]: Good! Tubbo: Maybe I did- I did a sht job of cutting, I'm sorry. Eryn: That's ok. Doing good.

YD: It had a nice atmosphere.

Eryn: Bravo. Tubbo: Oh, thank you. YD [?]: The noodles might be a bit slippery for them to...

YD: They really struggled to pick the noodles up. They asked why we cut the noodles then proceeds to eat like that 'cuz it's too long.

YD [?]: Shall we cut it? Kang-si [?]: Eryn? [He leans forward and cuts Eryn's noodles with scissors]

YD: –So we had to cut it for him like he's a baby.

[Everyone laughs] Eryn: It kept on moving!

[The video ends]

YD: [Laughs] Ah, so cute. It was fun. So we tried various dishes together. And uh, UK– UK– both of them are from the UK, but they didn't know there is a viral series of British students trying Korean food,*** so I told them "Seeing how you react to unfamiliar foods, like... How do I put this? You were very polite trying these out, not making any weird disgusted noises (so you can go viral too)." They didn't refuse anything. Well, they also said that this was the best Korean food they had so far. They might've been just being polite, but still, you know, they were... Hmm, very neat? Yeah. I get why he's so popular.

*** [Note: YT: Korean Englishman]

YD: Anyways, it was a lot of fun. After the meal, I asked them if they wanted to go take a YD 4-cut with us, explaining this is a trending form of birthday event amongst fans of younger generations in Korea where they rent and run a photobooth for their YouTuber / CCs / Influencers. I asked "It's close from here, you wanna go?" and he said yes. That's how we ended up taking a group photo. It wasn't planned beforehand.

YD: We arrived there– [Laughs] I tried, I knew it closes at 10pm, so I tried to visit there around then (to avoid people). So we got there around 9:30? And my fans were sitting there waiting for me. As soon as they spot me they go, "Wooooooo!!! It's so good to see you in person!!!" ...then they started crying, which made Tubbo and Eryn panic a bit. They were like "Wow YD, u a superstar! Whoa." [Laughs]

YD: No, 'cuz I told them that there might be a few fans because it's my birthday event, and they were OK with it. Well, he's also a Youtuber, so he wouldn't be too unfamiliar with this kinda situation I figure. But even though I warned [him] about it, they seemed a bit surprised as people started SOBBING, so Kangseok evacuated them all. He told them, "Let's get out and try some salted butter rolls while she..." The boys leave and get bread, and I go have a short conversation with my fans, take photos, give autographs... [Laughs]

YD: It was a LOT of fun. It was a memorable day.

The original VOD can be found here (please note that the video is only available to VIP members of YD's channel).

Timestamp for this conversation: ~12:30 - 23:00