#bc the castles like. right on the border there

[noxcorvid]

think I’m almost done deciding when serana gets bank chuted w her elder scroll, sometime between 1E 2331 and 1E 2703, the end and beginning times of the alessian and reman empires, bc the main hangup in figuring out when that happens is her line of “cyrodiil’s the seat of an empire?” when you wake her up. I decided against it happening during the interregnum in the 2E, bc while Cyrodiil doesn’t have a solid cohesive empire at that time, it still was kkkkkkkind of an empire? it was nominally an empire (the empire of Cyrodiil) so I decided against it, and then that segways right into Tiber septim septiming all over the place into the 3rd era, so 1E it is. Considered before the Alessian Empire, but that began 1E 243 and for the sake of keeping the story relatively cohesive (for perspective, the Dwemer getting thanos snapped and chimer->dunmer happened around 1E 700, and the yokudans began sailing en masse for Tamriel in 1E 792), and I initially didn’t want serana to be so violently out of the loop... I was gonna save that level of dissonance for a potential miraak doesn’t die in apocrypha arc but the ideas been growing on me. Like a fungus. ALSO, re: language: I don’t care what the official lore (or at least uesp) says there’s no way all of tamriel was using high elvish for legal documents continent-wide, serana would speak primarily old Nordic either way, but at least with the Alessian empire having already happened it makes sense if she at least spoke a little bit of old cyrodilic ……… but also very early 1E serana so. Hm.

[dkettchen]

Brennan: in the mountains of Luxembourg

me, from Luxembourg: *gets jumpscared*

me: mf we ain't got mountains in Luxembourg

[night-dark-woods]

finished Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, 5/5.

its a historical fiction biography of thomas cromwell & his role in the reformation in england (& henry viii's divorce) and it's just really wonderfully executed. helps that that style of coming of age + court intrigue/politicking is one of my favorite types of books.

really really tight neat prose, did not feel like a nearly 700 page book at all. the author is also phenomenal at character work and can sketch out a deeply believable character in a few sentences. really enjoyable read and ive picked up the next two in the trilogy to read.

it was on my tbr bc seth dickinson mentioned it in their reddit ama, i think explicitly as partial inspiration for baru (that part may have been in an interview tho?) and theres a few parts of it where that impact feels like it really shines thru:

"Now," he says, "we will put this book on your desk. So that you can be consoled by it when nothing seems to add up at all."

He has great hopes of Thomas Avery. It's easy to employ some child who will total the columns and push them under your nose, get them initialed and then lock them in a chest. But what's the point of that? The page of an accounts book is there for your use, like a love poem. It's not there for you to nod and then dismiss it; it's there to open your heart to possibility. It's like the scriptures: it's there for you to think about, and initiate action. Love your neighbor. Study the market. Increase the spread of benevolence. Bring in better figures next year.

&

"Your task is to secure the north. Percys and Howards between them defend us against Scotland. Now suppose Percy cannot do it. Your men will not fight for a kind word-"

"They are my tenants, it is their duty to fight."

"But my lord, they need supply, they need provision, they need arms, they need walls and forts in good repair. If you cannot ensure these things you are worse than useless. The king will take your title away, and your land, and your castles, and give them to someone who will do the job you cannot."

"He will not. He respects all ancient titles. All ancient rights."

"Then let's say I will." Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends.

How can he explain to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from his border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from castle walls, but from countinghouses, not by the call of the bugle but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot.

[fablestudios]

This is Marshal, he is baby.

This lil bean’s been taking over my head recently, so character rant below

I'll probably be posting a character rant weekly, not that I'm making a new character weekly but I'd like to share all of them eventually. Plus, it keeps things interesting around here.

Name: Marshal Anand

Nickname: Mar, Marsh (ik how that sounds, shut up, I think it’s cute)

Age: early 20s

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Aro/ace

Okay, ranting, uhhhhh-

Some basic info that I have bc I built this world but most people won’t know:

The clothes Marshal is wearing in the bottom right and left pictures are his soldiers’ uniform. Vamore, the kingdom in which he is a soldier, has this teal color all over their palace. The basic uniform is the teal vest, and shirt, gloves, and pants of whatever color their magic form is. Nickolas’s uniform is slightly different because he is Marshal’s superior.

Alright, magic forms. Magic in present-day Ismaria has seven forms, each a different color of the rainbow (think roy g biv). People are typically born with one magic form, and practicing more than that is seen as a curse. However, it is possible, and with enough balance, will not physically harm the body. Without balance, the individual will start to wither away.

Back to this little ray of sunshine.

Marshal has his widowed mother for family. He grew up an only child and his father died soon after he enlisted as a soldier. His mother is a sweet lady who I’m gonna name Sasha. Sasha struggles financially because Vamore is classist, and Marshal does his best to support her (part of the reason why he became a soldier).

Becoming a soldier met Marshal didn’t have to pay for a place to live or food on the table, he pretty much lived within the castle’s borders, so he was able to send most of the money he received to his mother.

Mar enjoys being a soldier. Though his fighting style involves more defense than offense, he managed to rise quite high in the ranks, being a lieutenant right below Nickolas’s rank as captain.

Fighting style, uh…Not all soldiers have the default fighter magic form (red). As you can see from the stuff above, Marshal’s magic is actually orange. This magic involves a lot of foresight, seeing the future, present, and past. How does Marshal use this in fighting, you ask?

Well after he bonded with his magic, it appeared in the form of a staff, the weapon he grew up using. What I have right now is he channels a lot of negative energy through the staff that shows whoever it touches (other than himself) their worst possible death. Fun, right? He changes this up when he’s training, just messing with people, or just because he’s bored. Sometimes it’ll show you the thing that’s about to happen in 3 seconds, which usually has some pretty hysterical outcomes.

Though he finds much joy in being amongst his fellow soldiers and fighting, Marshal also longs for the quiet career of an author. He’s been working on it for quite a while too, having planned out many of his own stories, but finding the time to work on them is harder than you’d think. He hopes to, after serving as long as he can as a soldier, settle down and focus more on his novels.

Uh, aaaaa, random lore bits.

Marshal wears his hair back in that little headband(?) because the Vamorian army typically requires you to cut you hair super short (visibility issues), but he didn’t want to do that and found another way. You might notice that Nick doesn’t have his hair cut short either, and that’s for another reason that I’ll hopefully discuss in future. (Someone scream at me if I forget because it’s wholesome af)

Uhh, Oh, I haven’t discussed Marshal’s actual personality.

Marshal’s a sunshine character. Think Frankie from Castoff or Rapunzel. Always finds a way to lighten the scene or put things in a bright light, cares for the people around him, makes friends easily. He enjoys joking around with his friends and having a good time, even if his occupation involves training for a possible (and upcoming…..) war. He wants to be able to do everything: help his mom, be a good soldier, write his novels, spend time with his close friend, and everything else!…but life isn’t going to make it so easy for him.

Oh yeah, circling back to Marshal’s magic. Remember how I spent some time detailing what happens if you practice two magics? Marshal practices the magic form of messages (purple/violet) on the side of foreseeing. Of course, he has to keep this hidden, but he’s found great ways of implementing this into his fighting style, such as sending small messages to the minds of his opponents, saying such things as “miss”, “retreat”, and stuff like that. This has actually proven quite useful as often the opponent will mistake Marshal’s message for their own internal monologue. Marshal’s magic mixing practice has not taken a tole on his body as he learned very quickly to bond with this new magic and help it flourish into the way his magic is in present day.

Now, as to who taught him to bond with both magics and implement it naturally, that credit would go to the kindly king's advisor, Donna. She and Marshal share a close mother/son bond. When Marshal joined the guard at 16, Donna basically saw that he was struggling emotionally and helped him through the years.

The scar across the bridge of Marshal's nose could've been a scrape in the streets when he was younger or one from his early soldier days. To be honest he doesn't really know either.

Uhh, well I’ve just given y’all a lot of random not useful info. Marshal’s a side character in Nick’s side story, by the way. They’re close friends, despite one being stoic and the other extremely expressive, and have a very balanced and healthy friendship that only grows stronger throughout Nickolas’s side story.

Anyways, feel free to ask questions about my world and characters and stuff and uhh…thanks for reading through my messy rambles.

[lemonhemlock]

The girl that was recently rumored to have joined the cast, looks like a child of Alicent and Rhaenyra, I wish she would be Daeron, but alas, it really wouldn't make sense now, but it would be cool if they had done it from the beginning. #letthegirlscommitwarcrimes

Anonymous asked: The fem!Daeron speculation is very funny. A fun AU idea like you both said, but it’s based off a random actress allegedly being cast in an unknown role, and she has brown eyes. So people think she looks like Olivia. You’re right to avoid a lot of leaks and speculation, it borders on goofy at times. I think people are desperate for content and instead of writing fic or rereading or even, god forbid, getting into a different media, they just scrounge for the smallest crumbs of info and build narratives out of that. It’s going to be a long two years!

Anonymous asked: Literally the only thing that sprouted the fem!Daeron thing is the lack of casting news so far and the resemblance a supposedly new actress has with Olivia, but the truth is that actress could very well play a character who wasn't in the book but was made up by the writers such as a random lady, some lord's daughter or even a handmaid. Some people just look similar to others, nothing more. Also, a lot of these new actors who keep being announced by leaks sites such as Redanian Intelligence will end up playing very minor roles, but I guess this doesn't stop fans from overreacting every single time lol... Like you've already pointed out, not everything leaks. For all we know, whoever plays Daeron may have already finished filming (or hasn't even started yet!!) but we can't and don't know this because his scenes were filmed in the studio and guess what, random people won't get paparazzi pictures of that unless they get very very lucky like last week when someone managed to fly a drone over a built-in set and spotted Aemond executing some people inside the Red Keep's courtyard, but even that was, at first, wildly misinterpreted by the Redanian and by the fandom at large who all believed that he was executing the Strongs at Harrenhal, only to later change their story and say the scene most likely took place at the Red Keep since they used the exact same set in S1 for the castle so of course it couldn't have been Harrenhal considering the different architecture…anyway people should just take a break I guess and stop going crazy over unconfirmed filming stuff and even worse, leaks made up by random trolls on Reddit.

don't get me wrong, i don't want to stamp on anyone's fun, so to each their own. i know that accounts that keep track of leaks and filming always pop-up in any fandom and they have followers certainly bc there is demand for this type of content. but sometimes these rumours are just not based on anything substantial, which is why i prefer to focus my energies elsewhere. personally i'd just end up feeling tired chasing fireflies like this

a female daeron would indeed have been a cool idea (seeing a dragon-riding warrior targaryen maid) but it needed to be introduced from the very beginning - now it would just look goofy. why isn't she betrothed to aemond? if aegon did not want to marry helaena, perhaps he would have been more amenable to waiting until daerea was of age? why is she even sent to oldtown? warding for girls is rare in westeros. off the top of my head i can only name rhaena (and she was sent to the eyrie only for her safety during wartime)

[lepusrufus]

Some (slightly angsty) vamp fam being wholesome and loving each other bc we need it 

Now keep in mind I’m in no way a writer but i wanted to write a teeny lil fic based around this sketch (the alternative was a short comic which i do not have the time for lol) so enjoy the angst and fluff under the cut

The frigid wind was howling outside, crashing against the towers of the Dimitrescu castle. Yet they stood tall and proud as they have for centuries now, the thick stone walls protecting its inhabitants from the winter cold. 

On the inside, the halls were filled with echoes of heels running across the polished floors, accompanied by the giggles and laughter of the three daughters of the house. Cassandra was in the lead, a comically large hat held in her gloved hands, followed by Bela and, lagging behind, their youngest sister Daniela. She deliberately stayed behind to -jokingly of course- mock their pursuer’s efforts to catch up. Each time she turned to yell a “we cannot be captured” or “give up and we may spare your hat” a small sigh escaped their mother’s lips. 

“Come now, daughters. You know as well as I do that I must get ready for tonight’s meeting.”

Alcina made no efforts to quicken her pace though, she knew that her mischievous daughters would not run too far ahead. After all, where is the fun in having so much distance between you and your pursuer that you can’t even see and make fun of them. At least that’s what Daniela always said. 

Despite her air of tiredness, Alcina couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the sound of her beloved daughters’ giggles. They may be up to no good occasionally, but they knew better than to cause their mother embarrassment, especially when it came to Mother Miranda. The meeting was still distant. For now she could afford to spend some time with them. 

The trio rounded a corner, the first two quickly slipping out of sight while Daniela lingered there and turned towards her mother. 

“Fine, we’ll give you the hat back,” she shouted and, for a second Alcina looked at her daughter hopefully, until she held her chin between two fingers in an exaggerated pensive expression. “If we can get a pet lycan!" 

Alcina grimaced at the mere thought of one of Heisenberg’s beasts coming even close to her castle. Her clean castle.

"Never." 

"Good luck then!" 

Daniela spun on her heels to follow her sisters, but lost her balance for a moment, slamming an elbow against the window placed right behind her for support. She had a tendency to get a little clumsy when excited, though it never became a problem bigger than a couple insignificant vases getting broken or an accidental -according to her- shove against her sisters. That is, until today.

The latch on the old window rattled from the combined force of Daniela’s hit and the wind outside that has been pushing against it all day long. This was the final hit that it needed to give out. The window opened forcefully, letting in a cold burst of winter air from outside that howled through the hallway. Daniela got knocked to the ground, more due to the pain caused by the chilly air than from its force, and instinctively tried to crawl away from the window while shielding herself from the cold as best as she could. The pain, however, became quickly unbearable and an agonized scream that bordered on a guttural grow pierced the howling of the wind. 

"Mom!” Daniela called out desperately, now balling up in the fetal position. 

Her mother however was not far, having witnessed the whole ordeal and now rushing towards her with heavy steps from the other side of the hall. Even the other two, hearing Daniela’s scream, dropped their game and came back for their sister. 

“Dani- " 

Bela had to quickly grab Cassandra’s shoulder to stop her at a safe distance. As much as it pained her to see her younger sister writhing in pain on the floor, she knew that all three of them being in that state would get impossible for their mother to handle. And Alcina indeed handled it. She was at her youngest’s side in mere seconds, forcefully shutting the damned window with just enough self control so as to not shatter it, and then knelt down to Daniela’s shivering form. She gently scooped her up in her arms, holding her close to her body and almost wincing at how badly she was shaking.

Alcina spared only a glance towards the elder daughters "Go around. Meet me in my chambers,” came her booming voice and, although she wasn’t mad at them, they couldn’t help the shiver that ran down their spines. 

“Yes mother,” they replied in unison and the next second a swarm of insects had replaced their bodies. 

The journey to Alcina’s chambers was little more than a quick blur of hallways and heavy booming footsteps. She shoved the door open, crouching to enter and made a beeline for the pile of blankets neatly placed on the bed. Daniela was lowered down on one of the thicker covers so that her mother could wrap her up in a better attempt at warming her up. She then was promptly picked back up, now cocooned in the soft blanket, and Alcina went to sit on the couch placed right in front of the fireplace while tightly holding her daughter in her arms. 

Contrary to popular belief, Alcina’s body was quite warm to the touch, unlike her daughters’ cold skin. On chilly winter nights it was common occurrence for the girls to come to her, demanding cuddles with the excuse that their rooms felt too cold. She always complied, gladly allowing all three of them to huddle around her like kittens for a bit of extra warmth. 

Which is exactly what Daniela was doing right now, her small body almost glued to her mother’s chest and her head shoved in the crook of Alcina’s neck. One hand was covering her face, muffling the sound of sobs, while the other was damn near clawing at her shoulder trying to hold the blanket tightly around herself. It pained Alcina deeply to see her in such a sorry state. Her hands were tightly holding her daughter and she bent down to kiss the top of her head, whispering gentle words of encouragement. 

A slight buzzing sound reached her ears as Bela and Cassandra entered the room, their expressions riddled with worry. Bela wordlessly approached the fireplace, it’s flames dying down from not being fed in a while, and added a couple logs that quickly ignited, casting a warm light on the room and its current inhabitants. Cassandra on the other hand was standing a couple feet away from her mother, not knowing what to do. The hat was still in her hands, her grip tightening further with each muffled sob that could be heard from Daniela. It took a few moments for Alcina to notice her, but when she did, she called her to sit by their side with a slight motion of her head. Cassandra was happy to oblige, quickly sitting down by her mother and helping her with keeping Daniela wrapped in  the soft blanket. Bela joined them too after taking care of the fire. She knelt in front of Daniela and started to slowly rub her shoulder hoping to bring some comfort while her other hand went to Cassandra’s.

They sat like that until sobs turned into soft sniffles and until those died down too. Daniela stopped shivering and was instead just enjoying the warmth of her mother’s embrace, recovering from the whole ordeal. Until she let out a sigh, still not budging however. 

“Well that sucked major ass." 

Cassandra couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips at the sight of Alcina fighting the urge to reprimand her youngest for her choice of words. When she looked at Bela, she saw the same struggle to keep a straight face. The very air in the room seemed lighter, no longer carrying the very real possibility of one of them dying.

"No more heels for you. From now on you can only wear flats,” Bela said teasingly, finally allowing her shoulders to relax. 

“You’re only mad I’m taller than you,” came Daniela’s reply, who had turned around in her mother’s arms to give her sister a light shove. 

Bela gasped, indignated, and went for a rebuttal, but was promptly interrupted by Cassandra’s sudden burst of laughter. She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sound, and leaned against her mother. 

Alcina finally managed to let out a sigh of relief, her grip on Daniela loosening, and she leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa. She closed her eyes, just reveling in the sound of her daughters giggling and throwing light teases at each other as if the last half an hour or so did not happen. These girls were really able to bounce back from anything. 

But that was still a close call. She was already making plans to have someone come to the castle and repair any old window with a faulty lock so that such an accident would not repeat itself. It wasn’t unusual for things in a castle to get old and less effective as they once were, but Alcina couldn’t help blaming herself for not properly upkeeping her home. Her and her daughters’ home. 

A shift from the three girls pulled her back from her thoughts. Bela got up to sit by her side, now all of them huddled around her and giggling at whatever joke Daniela just made. 

She could have a maid call the repairman later. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the quality time with her daughters, in the safety of her warm room. Not that the girls seemed to have any plans of letting her get up anyways.

[writtenwhalien]

the king’s daughter | ksj

↠ seokjin x princess!reader ↠ enemies to lovers | royalty AU  ↠ 2506 words ↠ warnings: minor character death, mentions of murder, mentions of arson, violence, oc injures someone, seokjin is a little mean but with good reason.

A/N: okay this is really pure enemies rather than enemies to lovers, but the potential for romance is there 😂 i might end up making a part two but really have no idea when bc i already have so many wips and will need to come up with a whole plot to match what i’ve written here loool. 

i haven’t proofread!! (it’s 2am sorry). also, the banner image is from vikings and in my head, that’s the kind of au i’ve pictured in my mind (idk if anyone’s seen vikings or not!), so it’s not the typical big castle kind of royalty au. the song i listened to is shum by Go_A -- it’s eastern european (not northern like vikings) but fits in with the mood for this pretty well (particularly the chase part). 

this drabble includes the prompt: “and yet you’re still here.” for @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​ I hope you enjoy ❤️

“The King is dead!”

Thunderous applause follows, hoots and hollers all rejoicing in your father’s death, with weapons being thrust into the air in time to a chant of freedom. The man with the eagle tattoo, dressed all in leather and gold atop the makeshift throne raises a hand, asking for silence. The crowd follows through… 

Then comes the command you feared the most.

“His daughter still lives! Find her for the sacrifice and you will be rewarded!”

The sound of metal being unsheathed sends shivers down your spine, and it’s the threat of death that keeps you on your feet, moving as far away as you can.

But they’re everywhere. Men and women, warriors and farmers alike, all searching endlessly for you. 

You have nowhere to find refuge. The place you called home has been ravaged and set aflame, and the only people you trust have been killed. Your father was murdered a few feet away from you as you hid in the tall branches of a tree.

He ran with you for as long as he could, fighting anyone who saw the two of you, but only a few miles away from your home on the border of the forest, there were too many of them… you’d unknowingly walked right into the rebels camp. 

Then was the first time your father ever commanded you to obey him, not as his daughter, but as his subject. “Do not come out, no matter what, and run the first chance you get. Run fast and hard, Y/N. Make north and when you reach the lake, travel east to Virdona. There’s a woman there, Gyda, she’ll help you. Just show her this.” Then he thrust a golden medallion into your hand. 

You’d never seen it before, nor did you have time to ask any further questions before he kissed your forehead and jumped down to meet his death in what others might call a courageous battle. 

But you think it was foolish. He had no chances of winning and now he’s dead. 

Wiping your tears, you continue to move as silently as you can beneath the wagons. You’ve long since removed the fine silks that you wore to bed and have replaced them with a rough spun material and some leathers you stole from one of the tents. If you don’t want to get caught, you have to at least not look like the King’s daughter. 

You’ve yet to get your hands on a weapon, but the chances of that happening seem slim with every one of these rebels out hunting for you. 

There’s fires blazing everywhere, sparks flying high as they light your way out of the camp. Except it’s endless. Tents and carts are everywhere, men and women are everywhere, and your escape seems impossible. 

You’ve reached the end of the row of wagons and there’s nowhere else for you to hide behind. You have no choice but to walk through the camp in clear sight...

So you do. 

Raising your chin and rolling your shoulders back, you walk as confidently as you can, blending in with the rest of the rebels standing around the camp still. You’re convinced you’re doing a good job, moving further and further through the camp, past the centre fire pit that has something burning to a crisp above it. You’d rather not know what it is. 

Fighting back the urge to throw up, you look away towards the mostly vacant camp ahead of you, and then you see him. 

A tall boy— no not a boy, a man, just watching you. He’s leaning against the wooden pillar of the earl’s tent, biting into an apple. The way he’s looking at you has goosebumps rippling across your skin. 

He knows.

He’s looking at you as though he knows every one of your secrets and it’s unnerving. Your feet naturally come to a stop as you hold his gaze, but that was a mistake. 

“Hey!” A gruff voice comes from behind you. 

You turn around quickly on your feet. 

A man stands there a few feet away from you, axe in hand as he stares at you. There’s another shorter man next to him, and a woman. All three of them stare at you with daggers for eyes. 

Hesitating, your eyes look towards the pillar again, only to see the space empty. 

You look back at the three rebels in front of you, all armed. Then one of them mutters something low in their own tongue but you’ve been taught all the languages of this nation, so you understand. 

“I do not recognise her,” the woman says quietly. 

“Nor I,” the shorter man says. 

It’s the gruff man who addresses you again. “Show us your eagle,” he orders.

Your mind is racing. I could run now. It’s the smart choice, except then I’d be weaponless. Your eyes scan the tall man as he takes a slow step forward. The dagger at his waist. 

Raising your chin to meet his gaze confidently, you say nothing. It challenges his ego and so he steps forward, eyes narrowed while his friends tighten their grips on their weapons. 

Closer, closer, closer… that’s it.

He’s close enough for you to smell the stench of alcohol on him, no doubt from a celebratory drink after your father was killed. 

“Your mark,” he repeats, staring down at you. 

Holding his gaze, you lift your forearm and grasp the rough material of the sleeve. Then you pull back. 

The man has no time to process the blank space of skin because you’ve already reached for the dagger from his waist and pulled out the steel blade, slicing into his chest as you do. 

Any other man would cry out in pain, but these rebels know more than pain. The last thing you see as you turn and run is his axe rising up in the sky, coming down to meet its target — you. 

You miss the blade narrowly, and you’re barely a few feet away before the three of them are on your heel, yelling out for the other rebels to join them. 

Your feet hit the ground faster than the hammering of your heart. Your father’s words repeat in your head, “Run fast and hard”. And you do. 

They’re hard on your heel but you don’t let up, ignoring the pain from your feet, your chest, ignoring the branches that whip at your face as you dart between the trees. You’ve reached the end of the camp, and ahead is only dark forest. 

I can lose them here, you think. Just keep going. 

“There she is!” A woman’s voice calls out. 

One look behind your shoulder and you see all eyes on you. 

Shit. You run harder, desperate for the dark cover of the forest, but you’re not fast enough. The voices behind you get louder, their fire torches lighting the way. Within a moment they could have you…

Desperation to survive fuels you as you keep going, but then in a second you’re being pushed to the side and strong arms wrap around your frame, a firm hand closing on your mouth before a cry can escape your lips. 

Your first thought as you’re dragged behind a tree is that you’ve been caught by a rebel, eager to hand you in and claim his reward. But you remember who you are and you won’t let that happen. 

Just as you attempt to wrestle yourself free, kicking your legs and resisting with your arms, a man’s voice whispers low and calm in your ear. 

“Be quiet, princess. Unless you wish to be caught.” 

His tone is what makes you question yourself… is he going to kill me? Because he doesn’t seem like it. So you go still in his arms, hearing the voices that chase you grow louder, and with it, your fear suddenly increases. 

With a sharp movement, you try to stab the man holding you in the thigh, but he’s faster, taking hold of your wrist. He doesn’t realise right away that his grip on your body has loosened, and you use the opportunity to elbow him hard in the ribs. 

He lets out a low grunt and you slip out of his grasp, ready to break free into a run again, but before you know it, you’re being pulled back and pushed harshly against the tree. 

This time the man stands close in front of you, clamping his hand over your mouth again. Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but you recognise the face. It’s the same man you saw earlier, learning against the earl’s tent. 

“I told you to stay quiet,” he mutters, with anger in his deep voice. “Unless you would rather be killed” — he lets go of you, stepping back and motioning towards the rebel’s voices which have now become more distant — “then by all means, try to escape.”

The dagger is still in your palm, the leather hilt making you feel braver. “Who are you?” you ask firmly. 

Scoffing, the man looks at you in annoyance. “What use is my name to you?” he responds with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “If I tell you, will you know who I am?”

Despite you being the vulnerable one here, you still feel the anger rising within you. Maybe it’s because of everything you’ve been through today. 

“I’ll know if I can trust you,” you hiss. “So tell me, who are you and where are you from?”

The man in front of you laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. “Fine then. If Your Highness wishes to know who I am, then I ought to tell her. My name is Kim Seokjin, son of Kim Nam-Jung.” Anger replaces the amusement in Seokjin’s features as he continues glaring at you. “My father was a blacksmith. A humble man who worked hard day and night to acquiesce to your father’s demands.” Seokjin takes a step forward. “Now that you know who I am, tell me, can you trust me?” 

For a moment you’re speechless, trying to understand Seokjin’s words and his anger behind them. He said his father was a blacksmith, so that either means he has retired, or he’s dead. Seokjin’s anger tells you it’s the latter. 

Your instincts tell you the answer to his question is no, I can’t trust you. But you don’t say that. 

“I don’t have much of a choice,” you reply, watching him carefully. 

“You didn’t answer the question,” he says sharply, eyes dropping to the dagger in your hand before meeting your gaze again with an unkind glare. “I’m not surprised. You don’t know who I am, nor do you know who my father was. You never cared to know about anyone outside of your privileged, pathetic life.”

His words are full of venom and his eyes pierce into you. But you’ve been through hell today and it’ll take more than an insult to tear you down. 

“You saved my life, why?” 

Seokjin stares at you wordlessly for a moment, the anger still visible in his deep brown eyes. Then he steps back, muttering a low, “Follow me.” 

“Not until you tell me why,” you demand, staying firm on the spot. 

Halting, Seokjin stands with his back to you and you’re certain he’s contemplating whether or not to kill you here and now. But your thoughts are distracted by the broad width of his shoulders and the two blades that are slotted into the black leather straps across his back. 

Seokjin turns around slowly to face you again. “Your father is dead and there is a manhunt for you, yet you want to waste time asking me why?”

“It’s not a waste of time if it’s to make sure you’re not going to take me back to the camp and have me killed,” you snap. 

“I just saved your life…” Seokjin looks at you with raised brows. 

You shrug. “Maybe you want to take me back so you can claim the reward for yourself.”

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin reaches for something from his back pocket. The movement shifts his tunic and the black ink of an eagle head tattooed across his chest is exposed to you. 

Your hand raises, aiming the dagger towards him. “You’re a liar,” you accuse, heart beating faster in your chest. “You’re one of them.” 

Seokjin frowns in confusion for a second until he sees where you’re looking. He quickly straightens up, hiding his inked skin from view. “Was,” he retorts. “Now we don’t have time for this, we need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you shoot. 

Irritation flashes across Seokjin’s face and he pulls out a chain from his back pocket, and at the end of the chain, is a medallion. The same as the one your father gave you which is hung safely around your neck, the gold sitting against your sternum. 

Seokjin takes one step towards you again. “Will you come with me now?”

You look from him to the medallion, and then back to him. His gaze is steady, watching you carefully. 

“How did you get that?” you ask him, nodding towards the medallion. 

“It was my mother’s,” he says. “She gave it to me a few years ago.”

“What does it mean?”

Seokjin sighs impatiently. “If you have it, it means you’re in danger and should be travelling to Virdona as fast as you can. Surely your father mentioned that to you?”

“Yes he did,” you seethe. “Right before he was murdered by your people.”

“I told you I’m not one of them anymore,” Seokjin snaps back with just as much vehemence.

Glaring at him, you lower your blade. “I do not trust you.”

“Yet you’re still here.” Seokjin cocks his head. 

“I’m only here because you have the same medallion my father gave to me. It must mean something.”

Seokjin scoffs. “So you trust me because of a piece of gold?”

“No, I trust my father.” You take three strides forward and stand in front of Seokjin, waiting for him to meet your gaze before you bring the blade up to his neck. 

He doesn’t flinch. 

“I’ll go with you, but if you try anything at all, I will kill you.”

A smile dances across Seokjin’s lips, though he says nothing. 

Lowering the dagger, you sheathe it between the leathers you’re wearing and brush past Seokjin to make north like your father told you to. 

A firm hand closing on your wrist is what stops you, and before you can react, your back is being pressed against Seokjin’s chest, one arm holding you tight against him, keeping your arms locked into your side. 

His lips brush against your ear, the warmth sending shivers down your spine. “I know you will,” he whispers. Then there’s the cold metal of a blade pressing into your neck. “But remember, so will I.”

You’re stunned, momentarily speechless, but Seokjin lets go as quickly as he grabbed a hold of you and takes two steps to walk ahead of you, murmuring a quiet, “Follow me,” as he goes. 

You do, but only after a moment of wondering how you could feel so safe and threatened in someone’s arms at the same time. 

A/N: thank you for reading! if you liked this, please comment/reblog/send an ask -- it means a lot! 

I don’t think I’ve ever written an au like this before so please tell me how you found it :)

read more drabbles under the 🐳 emoji tag!

[blutopaz15]

bc i'm weak for 7. “you're shivering. here, take my jacket. ”

For you and for @arnieb95 who requested the same prompt!! have some post-ttm angst bc hurt/comfort, ya know? 😭😭😭😭😭

The first night after the boys had caught up to her, Rayla had insisted on being the one to keep watch.

It hadn't started out as insistence, though. At first, she'd just volunteered—it wasn't like she was going to be able to sleep anyway now—but then all three of them had given her these wide-eyed, worried looks like she was crazy for suggesting that she be the one to stay up and keep them safe...

All three of them had then tried to volunteer. 

As if Soren, who'd managed to catch himself a cold in the late October chill, was in any shape to lose a night's sleep. 

As if Ezran, with only Bait at his side, had any way to defend them.

As if Callum—

As if they weren't all being idiots, having followed her out here in the first place.

So, she'd snapped, telling them all as much and then heading off that concerned look on Callum's face by adding on what should have been obvious—she couldn't disappear now, knowing that they were here in Xadia.

She couldn't protect them—not well enough—like this, she hadn't shouted. 

Rayla had stomped off then, grumbling about pacing out a perimeter to mask how her frustration had dipped down from fury to despair.

It really wasn't a very effective patrol her first time around, she realized when she'd circled back to the same place she'd started still wiping at streams of hot tears on her cheeks. So, she followed the same path again—tears slowing enough that the chilly autumn wind was fast enough to sweep them away—and then once more, her eyes finally dry and her mind at ease for her last loop.

Satisfied that they were alone here, Rayla hiked back up to camp quickly once her third lap was complete, realizing she'd been away long enough for dusk to fade to dark. It'd been stupid to waste a whole lap on crying, she scolded herself, and now she'd been away way too long. Leaving the boys all alone when that'd meant leaving them safely back on the human side of the border, within days of the castle was one thing; Leaving them all alone in Xadia...was a different story. 

They'd safely settled in for the night in her absence, she was relieved to find, the campfire's low glow the only light she had to see by, given the moonless sky.

So much for keeping watch, she thought with an eye-roll that turned fond at seeing how snug Ez and Bait were, sound asleep by the faint warmth of the fire.

Soren snored obnoxiously, and Callum was—thankfully—curled up asleep, too, rather than sitting up waiting for her like she'd half-expected.

It was...better this way, that he not push like she'd thought he might, she decided, lingering by the fire just enough to take the edge off the chill in the air. The peace that'd settled after he'd assured himself she was alright this morning was awkward and tenuous, and she'd been the one to first disturb it with her shouting...but she wasn't sure she could take whatever reaction he'd have for her.

Calm enough to rest her body at least, Rayla turned away from camp, her sights set on the little cliff, marked by a break in the trees, that'd let her rest her mind a little too. 

She could watch the path up the forested hill they'd settled on from this vantage point, she resolved, curling up there at the ledge, her knees to her chest, her hood holding in a little extra warmth. Plus...staying nearby like this meant he—they—wouldn't wake up and worry. Once had been enough for that...and she was sure Callum would agree. They had enough to deal with already without him waking up in a panic over her being gone again.

As if she'd needed some extra assurance that settling here in view had been the right choice, Callum called her name not long after, his voice just above a whisper. "Rayla?" 

She braced herself instead of turning to look at him: she could manage the apology for sniping at all of them earlier, she thought, but not the rest of what she was—and wasn't—sorry for. Three months hadn't been long enough to come up with that apology. 

The familiar shuffling of Callum's boots against stone finally made her turn, and she exhaled seeing the careful way he was looking at her, like he was trying to be gentle with her. He...wasn't here to yell back like she probably deserved or to fight at all— 

"In your letter—"

—but he was here to talk, it seemed...which she wasn't ready for either.

"Callum—" 

He went on anyway.

"—you said you were trying to protect us, and...that's what this is too, right?" he asked, pausing there, standing behind her and waiting for her to give an answer. 

The chill of the cool night air stung worse as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. She should've just said that, she thought bitterly, rather than shouting and storming off like she had.

"Yes." Rayla nodded guardedly, unsure of exactly where this was going.

Callum's tone sharpened just enough for her pulse to spike— 

"I get that, Rayla, but...I can help. Let me stay up with you awhile, at least." 

—but it plateaued again to...understanding. It seemed to take concerted effort, though, for Callum to take the pained, worried look on his face and flip it into a pained, worried smile instead.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked, unable to bring herself to return it.

"Aren't you?" He echoed, his voice layered with concern that covered more than just the pointed way he looked up at the new moon.

She was—so tired—but—

Rayla turned away again, holding herself steady against tension and cold with her arms tight across her chest.

"I'll just lay there, awake and worried, anyway, Callum, if I try to sleep." 

She didn't need to see him to know that the silence meant he was trying to find a solution for her. He would fix it, if he could, she knew, but he couldn't. The portal at the Nexus hadn't fixed it, him following her certainly hadn't fixed it, and this—staying up with her—wouldn't either, but...she could keep him safe just as well right here, even if he really should sleep, she thought, her resolve weakening like it always did with him.

She answered his not-quite question before he'd had a chance to puzzle out an answer that didn't exist, pulling down her hood and mustering a faint smile. "Company would be...nice, though."

She'd expected relief when he sat, but her heart sank instead at the stark difference a season apart could make. He was—they were both—so stiff and silent, and he'd sat so much farther than he once would have, too far to touch. Her heart ached for the ease and comfort that should have been familiar, knowing that'd be the best balm for how awful she felt, the best way to ward off the chill creeping up her spine.

Her shoulders shook and a single shudder broke the quiet...and Callum looked as relieved to have an excuse as she felt.

"You're shivering," he said, wincing over top of the slight way he'd brightened at having a reason to reach out like she hoped he would, but...he stopped himself short of touching her. Rayla looked at his hand as he hesitated, and tried to convince herself to ask for what she sorely wanted but hardly deserved...but then he was pulling his jacket off faster than she could protest. "Here, take my jacket."

Her breath caught for a moment, seeing the runes still marked on Callum's outstretched arms, her pulse quickening with frustration again at all of the stupid, dangerous things he'd done for her, each one somehow simultaneously both the best and the worst things he'd ever done, all at once. 

Like this. He couldn't be here, risking himself for her again...but he was, she breathed, his fingertips ghosting against her hand as she took the jacket. She could get swept up again in the worst of what he'd done—nullifying her whole mission, putting himself in danger, by following her—or...she could let him be the best—her noble and true, sweet human prince who, of course, obviously, wouldn't hesitate for a second to follow her—for a while.

"That's—" she started, swallowing down what he shouldn't have done to focus instead on what he was doing. This was a level of sacrifice she could handle from her sky mage, she decided, laying the beloved fabric over her shoulders. With the warmth and that scent...it was almost like his arms around her instead. "That's sweet."

Callum smiled—actually smiled, and her stomach flipped with affection that she couldn't bring herself to do anything about—then opened his mouth as if to speak, but...didn't, looking away instead, tense and uncertain. Finally, after a few more false starts and lingering stares, Callum broke the heavy silence.

"We'll...be okay, you know," he said, his hand reaching...and landing on the ledge, right beside her hand, too close to be inadvertent.

Rayla watched his hand, willing it to slide overtop of hers, for a long moment before she realized his eyes were fixed there too. "We will?" she asked, spreading her fingers enough to barely brush his. 

She hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he let it out and let himself lock his grip around hers, his hand squeezing tight, so desperately tight that he shook.

"I think so," he said, voice wavering and then steadying along with his hand once she'd made it abundantly clear that she wasn't pulling away. "I hope so." Callum's eyes finally left their joined hands and met hers, deep green in the dark night. They sparkled, though, with freely given trust and tenderness that she'd been sure she'd have to work for, to earn again...but that he was giving right back to her, nevermind arguments that awaited them or the hurt they both had.

It was relief that sent the next shivering sigh through her...but Callum didn't seem to realize that. Like a reflex, he'd tugged on her hand, stopping himself before she'd actually had a chance to shuffle closer.

"Do...do you want to come closer?" he asked, carefully searching for reservations like he hadn't since they'd been new at this. Shyly—again, as if they were new at this—she nodded.

"Unless that'd be too..."

"Weird?" he asked, grinning, his fingers pulsing tighter, teasingly, around her palm when she snorted, chuckling at him.

Callum unlaced their fingers then and lifted his arm for her to cuddle against his chest. Clutching his jacket around her, she scooted closer, his weight settling around her shoulders turning sweet, lighthearted laughter to even sweeter calm. 

Leave it to Callum to take the worst thing she'd done to him, and turn it into this—the best feeling she'd had in months—Rayla thought, breathing easier than she had since summer. As if his steady warmth wasn't enough to be grateful for, Callum's lips pressed firmly against her scalp, consoling the most selfish of her worries. Her eyes welled with tears at the gesture that was enough to convince her—for now, at least—to believe the best parts of what he'd said and forget the worst parts of what he'd done.

His voice low in her ear, he whispered, confirming what she'd taken the kiss to mean anyway, assuring her that he knew that love had been behind even the worst parts of what she'd done.

"I love you, Rayla."

[satchihatchi]

Fantasy emperor AU

A long time ago, two kingdoms were in never-ending war - The kingdom of Forest (KoF) and the Kingdom of Chaos (KoCh). Those two were in a war for so long, they don't even know how it all started. It was always a war on borders, but one day, the Kingdom of Chaos used the moment of surprise and even tho Elfs and inhabitants of the Kingdom of Forest were strong, they had no chance to win the overruled attack. Their kingdom has only two options - resist and be destroyed and turned into war slaves or find a way how to connect both kingdoms and save themselves. The King and Queen of Elfs, therefore, make a difficult decision - they give their firstborn and heir of the throne - Dipper, as a husband and trophy for the king of the Kingdom of Chaos. Dipper resists and refuses to marry and leave his beloved family and country forever, mostly bc of his family but also bc he was in love with Wendy Corduroy.

No matter how much Dipper refuses, his family decides to sent Dipper away forcefully, bringing Ford with him as Dipper's companion and advisor for the first few months to make sure Dipper won't leave or do something silly. Right at crossing borders with KoCh, Dipper gets the first shock - he is told to undress, not allowed to arrive into kingdom wearing or having anything that belongs to another court. He, therefore, is humiliated, checked by the doctor if it's really him and not Mabel in disguise (who btw is already married to Gideon from another kingdom of Pride). After that, in new clothes and a few days of traveling, they finally arrive in the capital of KoCh. Dipper is surprisingly welcomed quite warmly, even tho people of the kingdom judge him for being an Elf prince.

He is then introduced to his husband-to-be - king Bill Cipher. And their first meeting...well... isn't the best one, to say at least.

Bill is truly arrogant, narcissistic, and has a cold heart. He sees Dipper just as a trophy and a way for having pleasure relief, starting with their wedding night. Dipper hates him down to the bone, wanting nothing but to run away from there. But he cant... It makes Dipper really depressed that he stops smiling, speaking, just acting like a doll.

He after months of Bill's cruelty is finally broken and that is the point Bill notices something is wrong.

Before Dipper was hard to get, shy, angry sometimes he even dared to slap Bill in the bedroom...but now he is just silent, just pretending to be a good queen. It gets even into a point of Dipper becoming a sleepwalker - having dreams about him home, love, everything he misses so much, almost falling down the tower if Bill hadn't seen him and caught him. He asks Dipper what's wrong, but Dipper says nothing.

Bill realizes the only person he maybe liked a little bit is now not the same person anymore bc of him. So he wants to fix it.

He tries to be nicer to his husband, showing him prettier sides of the castle and kingdom, stopping making Dipper do anything or wanting pleasure. And it actually works...slowly but surely. Dipper starts to feel less like a toy, being able to be himself again, and eventually, he starts to believe and like Bill a little.

At this point, where Dipper is prepared to give the ruling and Bill a second chance, it has been 2 years since the marriage. Ford no longer is with Dipper but he isn't feeling so lonely anymore. Yes, he is extremely happy to see his sister when she and Gideon make deals with Bill, but having a husband who now cares about him and fears breaking his love's mind again... is something indescribable....

Maybe living in the Kingdom of Chaos is not so bad at all...

[raayllum]

Had another thought rattling around in my head.

What if Callum left the castle and his life there behind? Not for the same reasons as Rayla, but because so much had happened to him there that he no longer felt like it could ever be home for him. What if he just renounced his prince title and left, going anywhere but there?

I don't want to frame this as selfishness, more an extreme that his feeling of never fitting in could reach. He loses his mother, he loses his stepfather, and he loses the love of his life. Albeit Rayla didn't leave from there but I imagine that would be little comfort.

So what if he did just leave? I know it wouldn't and didn't happen, but what if he did?

I have always leaned previously on Callum ending up in Xadia long-term, once everything is over. I think the question (if the series chooses to examine it through this thematic lens) of where Callum belongs is an interesting one, because it's one he's always internally considered and chafed against, and he's a human with an arcanum, almost stuck completely right in between the concept of elf and human.

Part of this was simply because Callum loves magic so much, him being surrounded by it and able to chase it to his heart's content and possibly share it with other people just seemed nice. (1x05 boat scene with "It sounds incredible - I can't wait to see that" is when Rayllum was 100% cemented as a ship for me after all.) Then you have the narrative graces of having a brother on either side of the border, and of a human getting to live happily in Xadia, etc etc. Also partially because obviously he and Rayla are going to end up together, and her being let back into the Silvergrove could be an important part of her healing (if they wanted to take that direction; they could also take another just as easily)

I do think the show could easily do the narrative legwork to make ending up in Katolis their happy ending though, since that's probably been 'Home' in Rayla's head the past two years (because lbr, Callum is her home now). Especially if the show ends with magic being re-integrated into the West and Callum will have a vested interest in teaching other humans how to connect to arcanums.

However you're right: I think S4 is gonna really deal with Callum's identity. I mean, you don't have a character hemming and hawing over his titles - what identity he's going to hold - in his opening scene if we're not revisiting it. He holds Viren's old position, he's crown prince and brother to the king, he's high mage and excited to be a mage, but doesn't want to be like Viren (and Viren himself is probs complicated because of his own family but also because of why Rayla left, right).

He's living in a castle with a whole lot of ghosts - a childhood with Claudia and Viren and Harrow, lingering memories of his mother, and now Rayla for the few weeks they were in Katolis following the end of the war. And I do think that, even without the grief, Callum is probably struggling to fit in - either treating Ezran too much like his king (a la repeating patterns with Harrow and bc he doesn't want to deal with his own feelings) or too much like his little brother. AKA the whole 'royalty' thing is something I think will always trip Callum a little up emotionally so yeah, I'm still in favour of him dipping it all someday and having it not effect his day-to-day life any longer

[ackerfics]

so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead. 

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.  

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

-

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires. 

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice. 

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

-

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor. 

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

-

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach. 

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess. 

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

-

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom. 

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time. 

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

-

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was. 

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers. 

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody. 

[hella1975]

hi hella just wondering i’m going to the uk over summer (and ofc anything to do with the uk = ask hella) and i was wondering if you recommend any places in / near birmingham cause as far as i remember?? you mentioned being near there?? specifically like cool / underground / indie / only the locals know / anime themed / anywhere places. TY ALSO IM GOING TO SEE PHEOBE THERE MAYBE ILL SEE YOU AHAHA IMAGINE THE POWER I WOULD HAVE LCJANSIDIQJSKKX

bestie i want to see you at the manchester phoebe bridgers concert in july YOU BETTER BE THERE IDC IF UR TICKET SAYS BHAM

bham is the closest city to my hometown yep. ive spent a lot of time in the city and around it so HOPEFULLY i can give you a pretty good list, here goes;

in bham: go along the canals! this is kind of basic but they're such a defining characteristic of bham and they're so so pretty to just walk along, you also find some really cute coffeeshops/pubs along them

in bham: city arcade. ive not been here in yearssss but it's really pretty and cool looking

in bham: MACCIES ON THE RAMP this is not indie or cool but it IS funny bc a lot of brummies are trying to make this the sequel to birnley mega chippy. do it for the culture

in bham: blossoms pop-up bar. it's right outside the bullring and looks super pretty especially if (hopefully) it's sunny

in bham: my mate did indoor skydiving? lmao

in bham: digbeth is a really cool area for bars and shops in general and it has the custard factory (not actually a custard factory). this is where i usually go bc this is where the O2 is and it's very cool and indie

near bham: dudley: dudley zoo and castle! dudley zoo is a classic

near bham: dudley: himley hall. my mum used to take me here allllll the time it's so pretty and very austin england if that interests you

near bham: stourbridge: kinver edge rock houses. ive never acc gone here but i think it looks sooo interesting and im trying to live vicariously through you

near bham: shropshire: attingham park! another one i went to all the time growing up. super pretty

near bham: shropshire: blists hill. this is literally a victorian town where they all dress as victorians it's fucking bonkers my mate went there and fell in love with this boy she saw and will not stfu about 'the fit victorian boy'

near bham: wales? this might be a reach but honestly if you're IN the west midlands then you should really go to wales even if just for the day. bham itself is less than a 2 hour drive from the border and if you wind up in shropshire then you're on the border already. wales is so so beautiful even if you're not into natural attractions. you can go to the beach! or have a day in cardiff!

[corvus-rex-a-b-o]

My brain's been scattered lately and I keep coming back to Omega Keith. And I've been rewatching VLD with someone who quit after the beginning of s.3 just bc they hate Lotor so much. We're up to halfway through s.6 now. They want to see all of it even though they know what happens. But then it got me thinking sideways, like I do, and started writing again even though I'm working my way through my selections for Julance. Day 15 is late, but I'm still working on it! Anyway, here's part of what my weird brain space came up with (set during the Quantum Abyss adventure, although it's a little different and takes far less time).

“I have to admit, I was a little surprised when you were born an Omega,” Krolia said one night. There had been another fluctuation in space-time, and Krolia had to watch as Keith suffered through his first heat relatively alone at the Garrison.

“Are there not many Galra male Omegas?” he asked.

“No, there are, I just had a feeling that you were an Alpha before you were born. But then your father told me you were an Omega. It just wasn’t what I was expecting. Galra Omegas are held in fairly high regard for the sheer tenacity shown when protecting their kits. That feeling can extend to those under their command, and Omega mothers are often put in charge of crews. When’s your next heat?”

Keith sighed, poking the fire. “Soon. It’s going to be bad. It’s the first one I’ve had away from Lance in a long time. It won’t be long. Felt off when I woke up this morning.”

Krolia moved from her spot, sitting beside her son. “Off how?” she asked, her tone concerned.

Keith was confused. He was 19 and been dealing with heats for the last 7 years. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what to expect. He knew what heats without an Alpha were like. Knew what heats without his Alpha were like. His biggest concerns at that moment were building a nest and the embarrassment of having to go through it in front of the mother he hadn’t seen since he was an infant pup.

“Just off. I know my heat’s coming. I was thinking of holing up inside the ship. I think I’ll feel better there.”

“Good idea. The environmental seal will keep the predators from picking up your scent. It is a bit different. You smell sweeter. Well, you should get some sleep. I know how bad a heat alone is.”

Keith yawned, as if on cue, sliding down to curl around the teleporting wolf pup he’d rescued. He fell asleep quickly and slept soundly through the night until sometime early in the morning. Krolia was still sleeping when he lurched out of their small campsite, barely making it beyond its borders before retching. The sound of him vomiting woke Krolia, and she was beside him in seconds. He’d finished by then, and she found him on the ground, leaning against the large rock that served as a perimeter marker. Keith rolled his head to look at his mother, an innate understanding in the worried crease between his dark brows.

“I don’t think my heat’s coming,” he said softly.

The last time he’d seen Lance was only just before he’d been sent on the mission to retrieve his mother. Kolivan had given him the time he needed for his heat, sending him back to the castle to spend it with his Alpha. He’d put more effort than even he usually did into his nest, and he wasn’t one to half-ass his nests, and they had made very good use of it for the week he was there. He still had one of Lance’s t-shirts in the backpack he’d managed to keep with him on the mission, and he needed its comfort now more than ever. Without another word, he got up and headed for their crashed ship, locking himself inside with his Alpha’s scent.

Krolia knocked, but didn’t try to force her way inside. “Keith? We need to talk about this. Especially if you're saying what it sounds like.”

Keith didn’t move from the corner he’d curled himself into, surrounded as much as possible by Lance’s scent. He knew as soon as he said it that he was right. His heat wasn’t coming, and besides being with a mother he barely knew, he was alone. It hurt to think about, especially knowing that there was no way to tell how long they would be on that abyssal whale. Whether he made it off and back to the castle in time or not, it was a very long discussion he was going to have to have with his Alpha. Lance would want to go through with formal mating, and at that point, Keith couldn’t bring himself to argue with the idea.

“What’s there to talk about? Except for you, I’m alone out here, we have no idea how long it’s going to take to get to that planet, and I – fuck – I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and I have no way of telling my Alpha. I’m carrying his pup and he has no idea. What the fuck am I even supposed to say to him when we do get back? And when we do, will I still be pregnant or are we going to show up back at the castle with this pup in my arms? I don’t even know if I can fucking carry it to term with where we are. And I just – I want to be alone right now.”

Outside, Krolia pressed a hand to the locked airlock, wanting to be able to comfort her son. But she knew that he’d been through a lot very quickly and needed time to process it all. “Ok. I’ll be here when you’re up to talking. Take all the time you need.”

She swore she heard a faint sniffle when he answered. “Ok. Thanks…Mom.”

He spent the rest of the day dozing on and off, the temporal flares showing him various things from his own past. He couldn’t be sure if he was awake or dreaming when he saw pieces of possible futures. In one, he was flying back to the castle with his mother, the wolf puppy, and a tiny three-quarters human pup tucked into his chest. In another, he felt the presence of others but couldn’t see them, but was on his way back there as well, and still pregnant. Both felt real, and both felt possible. It was jarring to say the least, but he felt it confirmed what he already knew.

As the weeks went on, he tracked the progress of his pregnancy, from keeping an eye on how long he woke up vomiting every morning to watching the changes in his body. Krolia’s chronometer measured in galactic movements, and it had been nearly twelve when he looked out at the ever-changing sky and caught sight of the planet they had been aiming for. By that point, judging from the rough calculations to Earth time he made, he was nearing 18 weeks into his pregnancy and it was impossible to hide. Hopefully, they would be able to find the source of the concentrated quintessence and make it back to the Castle of Lions relatively soon.

They had been able to repair their crashed ship to working order, or, really, Krolia had as she wouldn’t allow Keith to do any of the physical work, making him stay in the cockpit to run systems tests and diagnostics. He hadn’t argued with her orders to stay put. He had realized quickly after coming to the conclusion that he was pregnant that, despite the ongoing war, he wanted his pup. His Omega instincts flared to life, making him very protective of the child he carried. It was one of the things that brought him closer to the mother he never knew. Both his unexpected pregnancy and the temporal flares showing him the past helped him to understand her better and why she had done what she had. It helped him to forgive her for being gone all those years, making him realize that he would do the same thing for his own pup.

~*~*~*~

Intro-ish | Pt 1 | Pt 2

[cinnaminsvga]

Let the Dead Weep | Jimin

→ summary: jimin falls in love the only way he knows how: catastrophically. your heart ends up as collateral damage.

→ genre: royal guard!jimin, princess!reader, angst → warnings: jimin is cold-hearted but only because he’s afraid, jungkook tries his Best to pick up the pieces, heart ache city babey! → words: 5.6K → a/n: this was commissioned by the wonderful @kookiebunnii​!! thanks again for giving me the freedom to write my own wips (this is admittedly Very old... so old that i almost forgot this existed in my drafts lol) i hope you like it bc this one is prime zee angst propaganda... sorry jimin but i had to do it to ya (again)

The sound of clicking heels is an unusual occurrence at the royal training grounds. Accustomed to the cacophony of grunting men and clashing swords, Prince Jungkook does not immediately notice that something (or rather, someone) is out of place.

“Your defenses are down.” Jungkook thrusts his sword forward, disarming his sparring partner in one smooth motion. Surprised, his partner yelps as his sword clatters to the ground, his now empty hands raised awkwardly in befuddlement. But his shock does not last long, as his previously occupied gaze returns to where it was, his jaw agape as he continues to stare somewhere just outside the courtyard.

When Jungkook turns his head to the source, he finally understands why he had so easily defeated his distracted opponent.

Your bright white summer dress stands out starkly against the dreary autumn scenery, your skirt bunched up to your knees to avoid tripping over yourself. It seems as though the world has gone still from shock, every man in the vicinity holding their breaths at their first glimpse of the princess from up close. Even from where he stands, Jungkook can see the sweat flowing freely from your temples as you rush towards them, your chest heaving as you dash past dozens of starstruck onlookers towards your destination.

You don’t even spare Jungkook a glance when you pass by him, your eyes trained somewhere behind him as though nothing (or rather, no one) else in the courtyard matters. “Jimin!” you call out, nearly collapsing onto the man you had been looking for as you fail to stop your momentum in time. Luckily, the head of the royal guard catches you effortlessly, his hand previously resting on the hilt of his sword jumping up to find its place on your waist to steady you.

Jungkook watches as Jimin’s gaze sweeps through the sea of heads before landing on him. The guard’s posture stiffens, jaw clenching as the two men size each other up. Eventually, Jimin drops his hand from your waist as if he’d been burned, taking an inconspicuous step back to regain some sort of respectable distance.

Jimin clears his throat, his expression as stern as ever. It only takes a single glare from him for the excited whispers to die in a second. “Well? Did I tell you to stop? Take your positions,” he growls. In an instant, the men around Jungkook rise back to action, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing loudly once more.

“Your Highness? Shall we continue?” The boy he had been sparring with speaks out hesitantly, breaking Jungkook’s trance. Jungkook blinks slowly in confusion, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He takes one last glance at Jimin’s and your retreating forms, only managing to glimpse the trail of your skirt as Jimin quickly drags you away from prying eyes.

“Your Highness?” the boy repeats, more nervously this time. Jungkook fixes a smile on his face before turning to face him, gently patting the young boy on the shoulder with the ease and charisma only a prince could manage.

“Yes, let’s continue. On your guard,” Jungkook warns, poising his sword forward before taking the first strike.

x x x x x

Jimin drags you away to the nearby armory, causing a domino of shields to topple down in his haste to open the door. He shuts it closed, not bothering to find a light as he pulls you deeper into the large shed. Only the small window by the roof sheds any light for them to see, but it’s enough for you to see the barely concealed annoyance set in Jimin’s eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking? That was highly inappropriate for a princess,” he growls, lips downturned in a frown. He might be well-known amongst his men as a stern and unforgiving captain, but he has never been gruff with you. In any other scenario, you might have been shocked at his sudden change of face, but the news that you just heard from your father is still ringing loudly in your ears, distracting you from anything else.

“What am I thinking? I should be asking you that! How is it that despite being the princess of this damn kingdom, I am still the last to know anything around here?” you shriek, ignoring Jimin’s silent pleas for you to quiet down. No, you are done being quiet; if you had to choose a moment to you would throw away all etiquette classes out the window, it would be now.

Jimin heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, interrupting him. You hold up a finger when he makes a move to argue. “No, you answer my questions, first and foremost. Why did I only find out from my father just now that you volunteered to get stationed at the border?” You can feel your face heating up from the frustration and betrayal you feel; blood rushes up to your head and leaves you feeling dizzy, but you refuse to stop until he budges.

You’re breathing heavily, speaking so quickly that you doubt you’re making any sense right now. “The king requested for volunteers to fill the station guard units over a month ago. We’ve met and seen each other multiple times since then, and yet here we are,” you spit out, jabbing a nail into his chest. He barely budges, only keeping his head lowered. “Huh? Why on earth would you keep this from me? Answer me, Park Jimin!”

Jimin grimaces, his face contorting as if he’s in pain. He does not make a move to reply, only continues to avoid your fierce gaze. But even from where you stand under this dim light, you can tell from his expression that he isn’t guilty—just forlorn. Heartbroken, even.

You swallow thickly, blinking rapidly to keep your angry tears at bay, but your voice still cracks when you ask, “Why won’t you say anything?”

Finally, he looks at you. “What else is there to say?” He sounds as defeated as you feel.

And yet, you’re flabbergasted. You’re angry, tired, and hysterical—but above all else, you’re hurt. It feels as though a massive rock has dropped in your stomach, crashing waves against your chest like fire licking at your bones. The heavy feeling that has been weighing on you finally has a name, as you have been fighting to ignore what it was for ages now. Deep down, you know that this is inevitable, but somewhere inside you still resides the six-year-old child entrenched in her happy fairy tales, the same girl who believes that good things will always happen to good people.

You hoped that you would have at least deserved a warning. Preparation before this mirage disappeared forever. But Jimin had always been the type to rip the bandage and muscle through the pain, so you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You just hoped that the two of you would still have more time.

A naive thing to desire, as Park Jimin was never yours to call your own.

You’re struggling to find the words to speak, anything to convince him to stay, even if you know it is not your place. He can see you grappling for straws, and perhaps it is out of pity or self-preservation, but he does not mention it. He does not say anything about you at all.

Eventually, he speaks. “I am… I have to...” He hesitates for a moment, taking one short glance at you before staring at the door. His hand grips the hilt of his sword tightly, though you know it is not because he itches to wield it, but for his ease of mind. You have learned, after years of growing up with him, that his only comfort comes from his own strength, his own ability to control his fate.

“Unfortunately, I must leave for now, Your Highness. Let us speak about this later before my subordinates begin to wonder.” There is a heaviness in his tone when he says that, like it is disgraceful for you to be seen with him. It reignites the fire in your veins once more, and you reflexively reach out to grab his retreating shoulder before the shed is suddenly bathed in light.

“Princess Y/N? Are you alright?” Prince Jungkook stands by the entrance of the armory, sweaty hair matted to his skin from his morning practice routine. For a moment, you almost hate the way he had sounded so… well-meaning, even though he had done nothing wrong to spite you. In fact, Jeon Jungkook has always been the perfect filial son, someone any royal family would be proud of.

And unfortunately for you, that was quite possibly the only reason you were betrothed to him in the first place.

You see him eye the pair of you curiously, his gaze gradually coming to a stop where your hand still rests against Jimin’s shoulder. You retract it immediately as if burned. You clear your throat, curtsying respectfully to him. “I am fine, Prince Jungkook. I am sorry for the scene I caused. I hope I did not interrupt your daily practice,” you say carefully, folding your hands in front of you.

Jungkook nods silently, his expression giving nothing away. Feeling awkward under his scrutiny, you curtsy to him once more. You shuffle away from Jimin without sparing him another glance, but you feel his gaze trained on your back like a brand. You wait for Jungkook to allow you to pass him before scuttling away, the ends of your dress dragging across the dirt path as you rush back towards the castle.

Stupid of you.

Jimin had been right, like always. News spreads fast within these ancient walls, and the chatterings about your emotional display are sure to reach your father’s ears one way or another. You doubt he’d be surprised by it; it’s no secret that your affections have always lied heavily on the royal guardsman. As long as you kept your secret rendezvous a secret, the King is more than happy to turn a blind eye. A reward, perhaps, for keeping your side of the deal.

Except that side of the deal hadn’t meant to arrive until your older brother had been wed, right after his search for his queen consort had been completed. But Jungkook’s family had been adamant to move things along, most likely due to their desperation to form an alliance with your prominent kingdom. As the seventh son, Jungkook hardly had any use for them in their household other than being goods for barter, and in any other case, you might have felt bad for him.

The guilt feels like a dagger pressing itself against your throat, and yet, you do not have the courage to fight against it. You sigh, defeated, as you stay reclused in your bedroom, waiting for Jimin to join you.

You don’t join your family for lunch that afternoon: a bigger mistake on your part, as it probably incriminates you further. Even worse still, Jungkook and his escorts are guests at the palace, and your absence doesn’t look good for your reputation. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care that day, only offering weak excuses about a headache to appease them.

To your surprise, Jungkook had vouched for you, according to your handmaiden. When you asked what he said, they said he had mentioned something about your pensiveness from this morning. You scoff, wondering if he must be covering your mistake for the sake of your future together.

The sun makes its way across the horizon and still no signs of Jimin visiting your quarters. You pace your room for so long that you fear leaving the carpet threadbare, your restlessness causing spikes of fear to trickle down your spine. Your entire body tingles with the need to do something, anything. Just to feel as though you still have some control, some sense of sanity.

By your dresser, your untouched violin sits, waiting forlornly for your hands to caress it once more. It is a gift from your mother for your birthday, though you have scarcely used it since then. You have always been talented with the violin, but the need to play it had died down once your days had been occupied with a different type of music—the sort of melodies that you could not pull from strings or brass.

You pluck the violin from its stand, the polished wood still smelling of varnish when you place it by your neck. You begin to play a piece from memory—a song that your tutor had once drilled into your head until your hands could move on their own. Even still, you love the piece with all your heart; the melancholy and longing of the notes resonate deeply within you.

You know that what you are doing is cruel, both to yourself and to him. With your window wide open, you are sure that the wind can carry your music to the royal offices, where Jimin is sure to hear it. Anyone would be able to tell that it is you playing, stringing note after note with hopeless abandon. Just to get a reaction, from anyone. Anything!

So deeply are you immersed in your playing that it takes a moment for you to notice the knocking. Your bow stills mid-way, your breath hitching when the knocking continues. “Just a moment,” you call out, hastily placing your violin back on your dresser before ripping open the door to find—

Prince Jungkook still has his hand poised to knock, not having anticipated you to open your door so quickly. “Oh, pardon me. I am so sorry to intrude on your playing. Have I come at a bad time?”

Your shoulders slacken, and your disappointment could not be more apparent. “Oh.”

Prince Jungkook smiles wryly, not appearing to be offended by your less than enthusiastic greeting. “I know that it is improper of me to ask, but could you invite me into your quarters for a moment? I would like to speak to you, if you would allow it.”

“Why would it be improper? We’re promised to each other anyway,” you reply bitterly, the words coming out before you can think twice.

Jungkook cringes, bowing his head sadly. “I suppose that is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

It is impossible not to feel bad after that, your face flushing deeply with shame. “Not exactly…” You offer an awkward smile to compensate, but you doubt that it reaches your eyes. You step aside, allowing him to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

His long legs allow him to take only two strides to reach the center of your room, his large frame engulfing the space. It almost feels suffocating, being here with him. Your mind unhelpfully compares him to the other only man who has ever entered your room, a man who had a much more lithe figure to the one with you right now.

You notice how he scans your room with sharp eyes, how he locks onto your violin immediately. He moves towards it and makes a motion as if to hold it, and after you give him your permission, he picks it up with reverence, turning it over with meticulous grace. “I was not aware that you were so gifted with musical talent,” he murmurs, plucking the strings experimentally.

You shrug, leaning against your door. “It was never brought up during our dinner conversations.” Not that much was said between the two of you during your meals together, as your father seems more interested in learning about Jungkook’s competency in politics than what his hobbies are.

He nods, absent-minded. He returns the violin to its proper place, his touch featherlike and graceful. He might be a violinist himself, you think. “That piece you were just playing… What was it called?”

A common question. “It’s a traditional song based on one of the kingdom’s myths,” you reply easily.

He nods again. “Why were you playing it?”

A less common question, one that you find more difficult to answer. “It… happened to be the first one I thought of, I suppose.” A half-truth, at the very least.

He hums thoughtfully, turning to you with doleful eyes. “Then I suppose that you must be grieving, are you not? if that is the sort of song that first comes to mind.”

You’re immediately defensive, curling into yourself as you watch him suspiciously. “My father… He told you, didn’t he?”

Even though you do not expound on what you mean, the prince is quick to shake his head in denial. “Nothing my eyes have not already seen.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, hackles rising as you size him up. “What do you want from me then? A confession? For me to go on my knees and ask for forgiveness?” you spit.

He stares at you, astonished. “Who am I to dole out absolution when I am but only a man?”

“So does that mean you have committed the same mistakes that I have? I find that hard to believe,” you scoff, lowering your guard in your annoyance. He’s only been in your room for a few minutes and already you tire of his company; you wonder how you’ll manage to keep your sanity while spending your life with him.

But in truth, even if he hadn’t irritated you, even if he was the nicest man in the world, he would never compare to the man you have already laid your heart with.

He shakes his head once more, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Not quite, but I do understand what you’re going through. Somewhat.”

Somewhat, he says. The more you observe him, the more you realize how young he is. Not just in the way he appears, but also in the way he talks and moves, almost like the stars trapped in his eyes have yet to escape. You can imagine him falling for one of the servant girls back in his own palace, secretly swapping lovelorn gazes across polished halls. Unlike you, he must not have acted on his greed, knowing the extent of his responsibility to his house and kingdom.

Unlike you, he does not bear a cruel bone in his body, as he would never subject that poor girl to the sort of heartbreak that only a clandestine relationship could offer.

“I want to make myself clear to you, my princess. I did not come here to accuse you of anything. I came here because I wanted to make myself clear with you,” he says. You raise a brow, urging him to continue.

“I am not asking you to fall in love with me,” he says plainly. It surprises you greatly, to hear him speak so candidly. Ever the perfect politician, he’d only ever spoken with care and precision, always anticipating the other party’s reaction. You have spoken with enough visiting royals to know that he is well-versed in that sort of language, so to hear him speak so brazenly is almost refreshing.

“I wouldn’t have offered, regardless,” you respond, smirking sardonically. He laughs at that, and you can hear the honesty in his laughter, too.

“Fair. But for the sake of the people who put their faith in us, I would suggest,” he pauses, licking his lips as he mulls over his next words, “that we might be sincere with one another. Just so our union may not perish… prematurely.”

You don’t respond, scanning him for any ill intent. As a princess from an illustrious kingdom, you have needed to stave off numerous lords and princes from taking your hand for their own wicked gain. However, none of your previous suitors were like Prince Jungkook, who genuinely seemed to care greatly for his people, as seen by how kindly he has treated his entourage of helpers.

He waits for you to say something, but eventually, he continues, “Princess Y/N, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to know you better. I seek nothing more than your companionship.” He blushes slightly, coughing into his fists. “W-well, not that you owe me that, as we could very well live separately for the rest of our lives, but... Umm… That came out a little more awkward than I intended, but I hope you get the gist.”

You realize, then, that he desires to live peacefully with you—guilelessly and unselfishly. Perhaps he is doing this for his parents (highly likely), or perhaps he has no other choice (extremely likely). But the fact remains that in front of you stands a good man with a simple wish: to become friends with you, if not at least become amicable with one another.

“Then I suppose you want to know more about me? About my story?” you ask sarcastically. “Want to know why the eldest daughter of the king is off frolicking with the captain of his guard?”

Jungkook snorts, an easy smile on his lips. “Well, you could tell me that, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘when did you learn to play the violin?’ and other neutral information. You know, like how normal people converse.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he had been making fun of you. “Hey, watch it, princeling. You’re not in the clear just yet,” you huff, but there is no bite to your bark. You can tell that he knows this, from the way his tense figure has relaxed tremendously in this short amount of time. You notice your own tension fading away too, if only infinitesimally.

“I can start if you want,” he hums, tapping a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Well, I have always wanted to tell you this, but you might think I might be buttering your ass if I did, pardon the language—”

You laugh loudly, baffled by his seemingly out-of-nowhere casual demeanor. In your bedroom, with his shoulders slackened and hair still disheveled from his morning practice, he looks nothing like the perfect prince you had boxed him in as. “Pardoned,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“—but I’ve always found your tenacity to be admirable. Your dedication to your people, evidenced by your tireless work to make their lives better, has always struck me as inspirational. Pardon the cliché, but you really aren’t like other girls,” he says.

You wave off his compliments. “By the sounds of it, you must have this line practiced to perfection. Don’t tell me this is what you say to the other princesses when you confess to them.”

He flushes darkly, stuttering at your brash comment. The sight makes you snort, only worsening his embarrassment. “I have, um, never confessed to anyone before…”

“I find that hard to believe. Sure, you might not be like me—” you say drily. You haven’t sentenced your own life to heartache and misfortune, is what you mean to say. The pang in your chest comes back with a vengeance, but you carry on. “—but I would imagine that you’ve had to sweet talk many princesses before me. I was not your parents’ first choice, was I?”

“Indeed,” he admits awkwardly. “But I am not completely powerless. My father had allowed me some freedom when choosing a bride, and I…” he trails off, swallowing nervously. He gestures to you vaguely, unwilling to keep eye contact as he does.

You gape at him, pointing to yourself. “You… You chose me? Why?”

“It’s exactly as I said,” he shrugs. “I read about the things you’ve done, and I was drawn to you. It seems that my freedom has indirectly caused your misery, however…” he says ashamedly.

Guilt coils up you for the umpteenth time that day, except now it is directed at the boy in front of you. Foolish of you to think that your actions only affected you and your lover. Foolish of you to believe that your actions don’t have consequences bigger than you might have imagined.

“It… is not your fault,” you grit out, though it pains you to say. Not because it is a lie, but rather, it is a painful truth: a pill you have finally been forced to swallow. “My recklessness has caused more wreckage than I would have imagined.”

“I must admit that I have always been in love with the concept of love,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck, shyly turning away from you. “I believe that while love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it is certainly never supposed to be cruel. It is never selfish or… painful.”

Your eyes narrow, fully understanding his implications. “Then you must be as naive as you appear,” you snarl. You step away from the doorway, making your way towards the prince until your chests were merely a breath apart. However, he doesn’t back away like you thought he would. He stands his ground, looking at you through his long lashes.

“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that even the thought of being apart wounds you? Have you ever stayed awake at night, listening carefully to the sound of your own beating heart, aching for someone you cannot have? It is an ache, Jungkook, that cannot be salved with pretty words and sentiments. It is not a choice,” you finish, vision growing blurry with unshed tears. But you refuse to let them fall, not for a boy who didn’t know better.

His gaze is level with your own, his breathing steady. His eyes look dark to you, no longer sparkling like they once did. But before you can blink, the darkness is gone, replaced with his carefully crafted neutrality. The princely politician makes his return, except he’s a little sadder. Disappointed, even. “No, I have not experienced any of that. I cannot say for certain what is true, but I have always thought that love should be gentle and kind. Something to be enjoyed, and not a cause of strife.”

He steps away from you, his footsteps light as he makes his way to the door. When he twists the doorknob, he stills for a moment. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N. Don’t… keep hurting yourself, okay? A lot of people care for you, even if they don’t say it. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

You bark out a laugh, but it sounds watered down to your ears. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me already.”

He smiles at you, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs before bidding you farewell.

You’re left alone again, and your room feels significantly more hollow. Your entire body is vibrating, filled with an unidentifiable feeling swirling in your chest like a hurricane. Was it anger? Frustration? Hopelessness? Guilt? Perhaps an ungodly concoction of all four?

You feel nauseous, almost falling over from the strength of it. Everything about today has caused you to lose your hold on your sanity, the urge to scream in anguish becoming more unbearable by the second.

Love should be gentle and kind, he said. Despite how sweet his intentions, his words still feel like poison. How dare he say that to you, when he knows that you wish it was true?

You grab your violin by the neck, your violent grip causing the wood to creak. Your hands shake, tears freely falling into the sea of your self-pity.

You drag your bow harshly against the strings, striking a sound louder than your own frustrated cry. A few of the hairs snap, but you continue, playing like a madwoman possessed. The music is frantic, agonizing—goosebumps trail your skin unprompted. Your pain overflows until even the dead can hear you weep.

Your violin almost drowns out the sound of another knock at your door. “Go away,” you growl, playing more fiercely. The violin groans, as if in pain. “If you’ve come back to lecture me about love again—”

“Your Highness,” a softer voice responds. It’s not Jungkook like you had thought. “It’s Jimin.”

Even if he had not announced himself, you would have known just by his footsteps. You freeze, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You swipe a hand across your cheek in a futile attempt to hide away the evidence. Even without a mirror, you know that your eyes are puffy and bloodshot.

He enters without your prompting: comfortable enough to invade your space as if he had not torn your heart to pieces just hours ago. His gaze immediately goes to your face, a staggered breath leaving his lungs when he sees your hollow expression. But that moment of weakness disappears in an instant, the same stoic captain from this morning reappearing right in front of you.

“Had you been expecting someone else?” he asks in place of a greeting. There is an edge to his tone, you notice. If you didn’t know better, you might have missed it. Jealousy. How dare he.

You squint at him, but you say nothing. The air is icy with tension, enough to freeze hell twice over.

He clears his throat. “I’ve come to apologize, your Highness. It was out of line for a royal guard such as myself to drag you so brusquely like that. It will not happen again,” he murmurs.

You can hear the hidden meaning buried in his words. It won’t happen again, because I won’t be here to do it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you whisper. You place your violin down carefully, but your vision is already turning blurry once more. You won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to be the only one hurt from this.

He sighs, as if worn by your childish antics. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

When he calls you by your name, the fraying string inside of you snaps. “Save it,” you seethe. “You’re a coward, that’s what you are. There isn’t anything to understand.”

“No, you should understand,” Jimin steps forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. He shakes you, desperation hanging off every inch of his frame. “As a princess, you should know what it means to serve the people. You should know more than anyone about the oaths I made to this kingdom. You should be proud of me!”

His increasing volume only encourages you to match him, your throat nearly getting torn in two from how loudly you shout. “Cut the patriotic act! Do you think I’ve forgotten all the whispers you’ve planted in my head? About how you wished more than anything to work with your brothers as performers, how you wished you hadn’t been the breadwinner of your family just so you wouldn’t have to sell your strength to my father?”

“I was naive. I should have known it was my responsibility,” he counters.

“Then what about all the promises you made to me during our nights together? You swore to love me forever under starry nights and disheveled sheets. You said you’d run away with me, just so I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Meer words of comfort. The babblings of a child.”

You shove him away, your skin burning from where he touched you. “Then actions must speak louder than words, correct? You cannot hide from me when your lovemaking spoke volumes. ”

For once, it seems Park Jimin is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists by his side, looking utterly defeated. “Y/N… You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, lips trembling. “I really don’t.”

“Even so,” Jimin says. He lifts a finger, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “It is better that I make the choice than you.”

Better that he breaks your heart than you. “We… we could’ve found another way,” you croak, helpless.

Jimin only smiles sadly. “The prince… He is a good man. I have been watching him these past few weeks and I know that he will—” his voice catches, and he has to pause for a moment to regain his composure. “He will make a good match for you. It would be wrong for us to…”

It pains you to admit it, but he’s right. Jungkook doesn’t deserve your infidelity. And yet, even if Jimin were to leave, would you ever be wholly Jungkook’s anyway? What would be the difference, if your heart will continue to yearn for another man regardless?

“Tell me this, then. For once, spare me from your half-truths. Drive the final nail into my coffin so that I know that you are truly certain.” You force him to look you directly in the eye, his pupils shaking as he takes you in for what might be his last time. It is almost as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed in this space. This bedroom that you called your haven, the place where you had fallen in love—the place that will witness your first heartache.

“If our lives could have been different, would you have loved me then?”

Jimin has never looked so weary, so different from the boisterous boy you had met all those years ago. “I’m sure… that I would’ve done what was best. For the greater good.”

“And does that greater good include us? How do we fit in that equation?”

But he only steps away, his hand still outstretched as if to hold you. Then, he slowly tucks it behind him, his posture straightening the way a guard should. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he says, the note of finality ringing loud and clear.

He pries open the door, hesitating only for one more moment before chancing one last glance at you. “Tomorrow… I leave with my men. I would appreciate it if you don’t come.”

The door closes, and your question remains unanswered.

Just like him, the empty silence of your room refuses to respond, no matter how many times you ask.

Because in the sanctity of your bedroom, no promises ever did hold. The Park Jimin you loved was never real in the first place, and no matter how much you slam your fists and stomp your feet, he’s never going to love you the way you want him to.

And there you stand, all by your lonesome, without the prying gazes of those who expect better of you. Gruesomely, and painfully you.

[clarenecessities]

3/18/2022

so on our minecraft server, since cheats are disabled, you can like. you can request A Ritual to accomplish something, which will require an appropriate sacrifice. like neo wanted to hollow out his basement so he had to provide a certain number of diamonds and some other shit & a live deer.

but i have been building a village, Boyne, and yesterady i decided i was finally ready to change the biome for it (so the villagers i eventually bargain for will be appropriately dressed). and it was decided that my quest was to hunt and kill a great white bear, Nechtan, to “the south”. so i was like hmm. that sounds familiar kind of, i probably read about it while i was doing my bear research.

i set out into the world, and ~3000 blocks south and some bad directions from hollis later, i found him.

but get this.

since there are world borders up, i filled out my map ages ago, right? and i had scoped out the whole world to find a spruce forest that would be more appropriate for Boyg. and there’s this one little island, nestled between two villages, that i could Just See building a castle on.

but i had already created a lot of infrastructure so it would have been a hassle to move, and it’s right next to an underwater temple and i didn’t want to deal with Drowned all the time.

guess where they spawned that magic bear.

out of all of the chunks in all the world, they chose this like 40x50 block island at the polar opposite end of my home, which i had considered settling.

but it gets getter!

when i returned to Boyne, thrilled with my properly-tinted grass, i realized that it wasn’t just a “white” bear, it was a kermode bear. i was heartbroken bc i am morally opposed to killing Those bears, Specifically, although it’s possible i’ve only told neo this of our friend group as he is the one who tried to drag me along on a hunt in RDO for one. so i was like Why friends. WHyw did you do this to me

but as i went to continue building the wall i’m making to keep my eventual townsfolk in, i found her

another kermode bear, nametagged so she won’t despawn, living peacefully among my hills, named Boann. which is incredible for several reasons. one, it’s the goddess of the river Boyne, which like, heart emoji. two, said goddess was (sometimes) married to Nechtan, so like, lol. i did recognize the name. and three, w my accent it’s pronounced Bone, like. she’s white. and boann is ‘white cow’ anyway and. do you get it you guys

i teared up a little ngl. i love my bear & i love my friends & our gay little adventures. it was a very happy st patrick’s day

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Tutorial on how I do my moodboards💕

For @kray-dragon, @lyranova & @jovialnoise and anyone else who’d find this helpful

Bonus: How to recolor certain colors in an image

Reblogs are appreciated 👉👈💕

PicsArt

PicsArt

The filters on this app are paid but one of its most useful features are in Effects -> scroll all the way down to Colors where you can replace the colors of an image(one of the best features😩), colorize, and hue.

LiveCollage

It’s where I put my images into a collage. They have a lot of formats but my favorite is the standard 3x3 with 9 images. I always do 9. And in the edit section, lower the space between the border and the images to close the gap. And they also have AMAZING filters😩😩 I like their filters the most😎

It’s where I put my images into a collage. They have a lot of formats but my favorite is the standard 3x3 with 9 images. I always do 9. And they also have AMAZING filters😩😩 I like their filters the most😎

Photos

Well, the iPhone photos also have good editing options. I use it for their basic filters which work really well tbh. I like their warm and black and white filters. In fact, I used the dramatic warmth filter for the Julius moodboard. But I use it the most for exposure, brilliance, black point, warmth, coolness, tint etc etc. it’s just convenient but you could also use the Lightroom app for all that.

Lightroom

My photography friends make images and presets for me so that’s why I use this app but android users can use it for the features I use in the iPhone photos app.

Palette Cam

NOW THIS APP it’s literally the best for saving palettes of any images and it has nooooo ads at all but it’s only on ios so I’d recommend “Pigments” for android. The one I use is so freaking good tho😩😩

IbisPaint X

I use it to redraw certain things like for example, for the fuego & solara moodboard, in the image with the man holding up the woman, the man had shorter hair which fuego does not have so I went on ibis paint and did this

See? it’s super cool and helpful to retouch images like that!

CapCut

It’s a super easy app for editing videos and stuff and I just included that as bonus if yall needed recommendations for video editing too hehe it has super complex features that would make your edits look out of this world if you know how to use them properly.

————————

Ok enough chitchat let me tell you how I do it😎

So there are two different character moodboards I do. Solo character and ships.

For both solo characters and ships, I always have two quotes which I place in the middle row, left and right.

The quotes ofc have to be related to the character or the vibe of the ship

Then I have at least one hand picture in the board bc uhhh hands are my thing😅👉👈

For the solo characters the center picture is always an icon of their character, or the main motif.

The Julius moodboard has a starburst art in the middle of it and the overarching theme is stifled divinity so it’s like an explosion or a reveal of his power.

While Yami, William, and Yuno boards are their icons.

The rest of the pictures on the board are their vibes. Royalty vibes and crowns for Julius and Yuno. Soft vibes like birdhouse, bird and his beautiful smile for William. Yami’s culture and his propensity for smoking in his board etc.

For my BC moodboards, I also include one image that’s their magic. Like Julius: clock; Yami: the moon and his katana; Yuno: hand with wind magic and Bell’s wing; William: tree.

For the ship moodboards, I try to have at least two hand pictures but it always doesn’t work out. I also include at the very least, two human pictures or silhouettes either together or apart. And the rest are also the motifs, vibes, and maybe even a photographically representation of a situation the ship went through together.

The most important thing in a mood board is

‼️PLACEMENT‼️

THIS IS SO FREAKING IMPORTANT TO MAKE SURE IT LOOKS GOOD

Uniformity is important(at least in a 3x3 where it’s possible but if it’s another format, that’s a whole nother talk BUT EVEN THEN ITS IMPORTANT)

Look at these!

The cross is all dark and the corners are light

The X is all light while the edges of the cross are all dark.

It looks more pleasing to the eye!! You can’t have random placement of the pictures inside the formation too.

In the Yuno moodboard, in the cross, the top and bottom are royalty themed while the horizontal line are the quotes.

Same with William’s. Top and bottom are the golden dawn and it’s castle. The diagonal connecting the birdhouse and the bird are well, connected, bc yk birds.

I cannot STRESS how important placement is. Please please please place them where they would look neat.

Now let’s talk filters.

You can you any app that you like😎 I use Filto, PicsArt and most often, LiveCollage.

For my dark moodboards, I first make em all black and white and then I colorize them in PicsArt with the Colorize effect all the way down in the colors category effects.

Since the colorize tool is very intense by default, you have to increase the fade on the slider given and lower it down a bit to make it more subtle but at the same time give it a filter.

I’m learning how to make two toned filters and presets so give be some time for that but yee

Colors of the filters are important for the vibes of each character.

For example, while yuno’s color is light green, I chose viridian for the filter color bc of his cool attitude.

Filters are easy game but let me teach you how to recolor certain parts of an image

Go to PicsArt -> effects -> scroll all the way down to colors -> color replace

I can change this orange hair, into pink hair.

It’s very cool😎

I hope this helps and I’d love to make more tutorials in the future🥰🥰🥰