#bronze candlesticks

[styckywycket]

Enclosed - Dining Room

Inspiration for a mid-sized, traditional dining room remodel with gray walls, a stone fireplace, a standard fireplace, and brown flooring.

[antiquesandfineartnet]

Rare Pair Of Petite French Antique Eagle Claw Desk Candlesticks Excell – st.george.antiques.com

[yuwuta]

HOW DID YOU GET USED TO THE HAUNTING, THE WILLING, THE MISSING, THE WANTING — YUUTA OKKOTSU

content, warnings. more of the knight yuuta universe yippee. i got an ask about telling him he’d make a good prince and flustering him, and that struck something in me, though this interpretation of that ask is probably a bit darker/more serious than envisioned... i will publish the ask w the other version of this scenario too. unfortunately for everybody involved i was a theater kid and i did listen to cell block tango and the first half of hamilton before i had this idea </3 i’m sorry if you can tell

more notes. set in the same universe as this drabble, which are all set in the same universe as a full fic draft i have and would love to finish some day lol. anyway, say hello to the gojo of this au 

You are not ready to be queen. As much as you resent your mother, your father, the elders in the cabinet, the system you were raised in—as much as you wish to be a ruler that creates change and peace in your court and kingdom, you know that you are not ready to hold that position. 

It shows now more than ever, with your parents being escorted to a neighboring kingdom for a meeting, and you in charge of the harvest ball. There is china to be chosen, silverware to be polished, candlesticks to be blessed, gowns to be sewn, a menu to be curated, a ballroom to be prepared—and you are sorely behind on all of your duties. 

A lackluster princess does not make for a promising queen. And distractions do not help you become anything of yourself. 

“I do not have time to discuss the lilies Sir Gojo. I am aware they are drooping and that they are your favorite, but I do not control the weather,” you sigh, handing back a scroll to a maid before turning to your head knight.

“That sounded very queenly, my little lady! You’ve been practicing,” he towers above you, with a growing smile and little care for your position. He bends forward to press the tip of his gloved pointer finger to your nose, “I too mourn the lilies, but I am afraid I agree: we have much more pressing matters to discuss. Come along, shall we?” 

You’ve learned to be wary of Sir Gojo’s words over the years. He often leads with a false timbre, or makes otherwise simple conversation into a riddle for his own amusement. Even as you’ve learned when to ignore his games, you’ve also grown appreciative of his light demeanor, and his insistence on speaking to you directly, rather than shielding you away. 

You take his arm, looping yours through his, and allow him to lead you down the courtyard steps and into the grand garden. You put your trust in him, allowing your feet to follow the path he sets, and letting your mind wander. You wonder whether you should set the gold or bronze-trimmed plates for the ball, if the curtains should remain closed or open, if the embossed or embellished silverware would leave a better impression on your guests. 

“Princess?” your knight calls for you. You focus your attention back to him, apologizing for your lapse in attention. 

You expect a smile, perhaps another press to your nose and a light scolding, but Gojo’s expression is much more neutral. “Sir?”

“I said that Lord Hajime is dead. His court will send a representative to the harvest ball, but how would you like to proceed?” 

“Dead?” your breath hitches momentarily, “Was he unwell?” 

“I do not know. The letter gave no detail. I believe the court sent an apology for not being able to deliver a suitor as promised. The family wishes to keep this private until after the harvest.” 

When you look up to him, you see no mischief in his expression. He’s serious, and you feel lightheaded, warm, and icy all at once. “I see,” you say, and pull away from Gojo’s arm, “Excuse me. I—I need a moment to myself.”

“You are sick? So suddenly?” Gojo asks, turning with your body so that his back is never to you.

“No—I… I… I need to be alone,” you confess, wrapping your arms around themselves, curling into your own body. Gojo stands firm, a short nod in understanding. He raises his hand to make a signal; an order for the knights on the periphery who can see but not hear. 

You smile, small, grateful for him. “Please, arrange our finest favors, and ask Ieiri for her favorite elixir.” 

Gojo’s smile reflects yours, albeit stained with more sympathy. “Of course.” 

“And tell the maids that I shall postpone the table placements until tomorrow morning. Should you find yourself with time to spare, let me know if you prefer the bronze to gold trim.” 

Gojo nods, taking a half-step to stand in front of you. In times like these, you feel like the little princess under his watch and care from when you were younger. His presence is frightening, overwhelming, and yet, more comforting and welcoming than your own parents. 

Carefully, he leans down to whisper, “Yuuta and his fleet have not yet returned, he will not be in the knight’s chambers. I will send him to you when he arrives.” You blink in sudden awe, and Gojo smiles, reaches for your hand and raises it to his lips to press a chaste kiss, “Do not regret too long, princess.” 

You hear him before you see him. It’s a bad habit for a knight, you think; you can always hear or feel where Yuuta is, even if you can’t see him. You think he ought to be more stealthy, more secretive, quieter; but then again, you don’t. He reserves plenty of stealth for his motives, stores plenty of secrets in his mind, keeps his words quiet or has a way of keeping other people’s quiet. 

The throne room is cold. It’s your least favorite room in the castle, but tonight, you hope it inspires you.

You don’t sit on your throne, you don’t sit on your mother’s or your father’s; you don’t sit at all. You stand, at the top of the stairs, staring at the seats and the tapestry and the paintings of your forefathers that decorate the backdrop. Behind you, at the base of the stairs, Yuuta kneels. You don’t need to see him to know; you can feel it on your palms with your hands behind your back; you can see it in the eyes of your grandfather’s portrait, you can hear it in the way his knee hits the carpet. 

“You may stand.” 

“I shouldn’t, my lady,” Yuuta replies, “Not here.” 

“You do many things you shouldn’t,” you sigh, steady, “Stand, Yuuta.” 

You hear the metal of his armor rustle against itself. You can feel when he stands; it feels like he’s right behind you, even though you know he’s ten steps below you. 

You inhale, slowly; exhale, slowly. Clench your hands behind your back, and then relax your shoulders the way you’ve seen your grandfather do. Then, you speak. “Lord Hajime is dead.” 

You turn, slowly, and wait until your cape has finished its turn, has settled behind you again before you speak again; a tactic your grandmother was fond of. “Lord Hajime is dead,” you repeat, “He is dead, and I asked you not to kill him.” 

Yuuta looks up to you. Neck craned, hands neatly behind his back, his helmet on the carpeted floor to his left. He does not look small. 

You take a step downwards. “I said this is not how I wanted matters to be resolved.” Another step down, a pause, then repeat, “I said that I do not wish to resort to violence.” Another step down, a pause, “To resort to murder.” Another step down, hurried, “I stood under my balcony,” another step, “and I told you not to murder Lord Hajime. I told you not to kill him,” another step; a pause, hysterical, “And yet Lord Hajime is dead. He is dead because—”

“I did not kill him.”

You pause your descent, four steps above Yuuta. You are only half a head taller than him like this. At this distance you can see the gray of his irises, wide and speckled with brown, without a shred of remorse pooling within them. It makes you sneer. 

“You expect me to believe that it is a coincidence that a fortnight after I catch you on your way to murder Lord Hajime, that he dies?” you question, rhetorical, “I am naive, but I am not a fool, Yuuta.” 

“You are no fool, my princess, and Lord Hajime was no saint,” Yuuta shakes his head, “He was a tyrant. He took three wives prior and treated them all as whores. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the crops in the north. He had only himself to blame.” Yuuta pauses, and you see something melt behind steely eyes. “It was a murder, yes, but not a crime.”

Yuuta’s lips wobble slightly, but the rest of him remains upright. It always goes like this: first his head, then his heart, then his body following—in everything he does. You blink, slowly, and take another step down; eye-level with Yuuta at this height. 

“You did not kill him,” you repeat, leveled with revelation, “You just gave the order.” 

Yuuta’s eyelids fall slowly, then his head follows in a shallow nod. He keeps his neck bent, keeps his head hung in front of you. You sigh. 

“Who was it this time,” you ask. He does not raise his head; you do not wait for him to speak, you dip your head so that your lips are level with his ears. “Megumi? Surely he would have hated the way Lord Hajime treated his livestock. Maybe Yuuji—he has been impatient to prove himself since recovering from his last injury. Or perhaps Toge, he would’ve done it swiftly in his sleep, without a sound.”

Yuuta keeps his gaze on the floor, keeps his words quiet. “Nobara.” 

“Dame Nobara, who strives to replace you as my first blade?” you question, “What, as some kind of test of loyalty to you?” 

Yuuta raises his head, eyes stern, brows drawn. “No, princess. To you.” 

You freeze. Your anger flares, and then subsides to only weak embers as you understand Yuuta’s motives, and Sir Gojo’s final words to you. You’re careful when you reach forward to brush your knuckle against Yuuta’s cold cheek, only the kiss of a touch between your finger and his face; even, still, he shudders, and you watch him melt from head to toe; from his eyebrows to his eyes to his lips to his shoulders to his knees. 

“You are disobedient, and indignant, and ruthless,” you list, voice soft, touch softer as you allow your fingers to graze the top of his ears, adoring the flush that follows, “And kind, and careful, and charming.”

You watch the color stain Yuuta’s cheeks and his ears, you revel in the pout on his lips, and the effort of his breathing. You only wish he were this easy to tame all the time. 

Still, he precious to you, so you are careful when you raise your opposite hand to his face, taking advantage of the difference in your status and stature to tilt his head upwards, lean down and press your words against his cheek, “You would make for a lovely prince,” you tell him, “The people would love you. Our enemies would fear you. The soldiers would respect you.” The kisses between your sentences are featherweight, trailed from the high point of his cheekbone to the corner of his lips.

You can feel him quiver when you pull back, moving a palm back to his cheek to pinch his skin between your thumb and forefinger, “If only you knew how to listen.” 

Yuuta winces, but he does not pull away. He parts his lips to steady his breath, and then to speak, strained, “Please, princess. Have mercy.” 

And for the first time in a fortnight you smile, watching splotched skin stain your knight’s cheeks when you soften your hold on him. You pull Yuuta’s head up further, lean yours down for a careful kiss; short, chaste, the kind you know he hates the most. 

“Oh, Yuuta,” you coo, grazing your thumb against his face, endeared by his wide eyes and quiet whimpers, “This is mercy.”

[fxreflyes]

thank you all for the tags 🥹 @polaroidcats @faggylittleleatherboy @kaaaaaaarf @lynxindisguise @kaleidoscopexsighs @greengrug you are all on my rob list <333

OPEN TAG <33 pls do this this is so cute

but also! np tagging: @cosmmicdancer @shipsnsails @pretentiouswreckingball @sugarsnappeases @belleandsaintsebastian

@fatemy-friend @allbuthuman @dickggansey @all-yourn @velanavis @stillforests

@fruityindividual @angelfruittree @godsofwoes @werewolfenthusiast @magneto-manifesto @faefibs

[moralcomeback]

bronze dish made by my <3 and candlesticks by moi

[unsoundedcomic]

How fancy are the different chapels of the Temple of Song since they're segregated by caste and class? Would, say, rich Bronze families donate to make the poorer Bronze chapel still pretty fancy out of caste solidarity? (Even if they save most of their donations to their own chapel)

Even the humblest sponsored chapels are beautifully adorned and well-maintained. Poor people never shy away from putting what little money they have towards their church.

But yeah, the rich bastards have the nicest.

The Argenti family chapel is the finest in the Temple, its walls depicting the fabled Silver Wood with real inlaid silver with a few touches here and there of legitimate First Silver. There's a statue of Ssael - again in silver - inlaid with jewels, holding one of Ssael's actual swords, and wearing a real lion fur cloak that he supposedly owned (Duane thinks not). There are pymaric projectors that fill the room with glamours, music, and programmed fragrances set to both. Because it's so posh, all the clerics fight with each other to conduct their service here. Duane wrote up several programs designed for the facilities but alas, was never chosen. In his head it was gorgeous and very moving tho.

Duane's home chapel was shared by his own ghers and ghers 14, an upper class Bronze ghers. He'd been working with a friend to get their own pymarics but First Materials are pricy in Durlyne. The rest of the space was nice, with the ladies keeping the upholstered benches clean and patched, the candlesticks shined, the rich wood polished and waxed. There are some very ancient and interesting murals on the north wall rescued from ruins and supposedly painted by Ssael's adult granddaughter, who was responsible for a lot of the faith's earliest iconography. Like, Ssael is often depicted wearing a tight little skullcap (or helmet? No one's sure), and that's because of her paintings.

The humblest chapels are the public chapels. These are kept by the Temple itself, and it's where efhghersit off the street worship. Most hours of the day you can find people dozing inside to escape the cold. Ssaelism does not espouse undeserved charity, so they get kicked out after evening service, and there is no soup kitchen on the premises. These chapels are clean, modest, and have some nice tapestries, but nothing that might attract sticky fingers from Sevencrow.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

➷ epiphany, part two | k.th & h.k.k

✧ pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader x hueningkai

✧ genre(s): angst, fluff is kinda few and far between with this one, fantasy, sort of victorian-era!au, aristocrat!txt, kind of bridgerton without the badonking

✧ word count: 14.3k 💀

✧ synopsis: the ground is pulled from beneath your feet at the Yoon Ball: nothing in your world is as you believed it to be. who are your friends? who are you? what is your purpose? you are propelled into rediscovering a forgotten life, one filled with love and warmth, with the pain of loss, and with the secrets that could avenge those dear to you.

✧ warnings: themes of loss and trauma; trust issues; anxiety, panic, reader is rly going through it with this one ☹️. loss of family, language, pining, alcohol and blood are mentioned, lmk if anything else!

✧ an: this is a repost ⚠️

prev. | mlist | next

You awoke with a heaviness pressing on your chest, making it burn as you gasped for air. A scream sat lodged in the back of your throat ready to belt, but it never came. Your eyes prickled with tears and sweat clung to your limbs like a layer of plastic film. Forcing yourself up, against whatever force was adamant to keep you weighed down to your bed, you pulled your knees into your chest and squeezed your eyes shut.

In and out. In and out. Slowly, you willed your breaths to even out.

Weeks, nearly the sum of two fortnights, sat between you and your life as it was. Three and twenty days since you had last smelled your sheets in your room at the tavern, three and twenty days since you had attended the ball at Torpe Manor in the prettiest garment your eyes had ever lay upon, three and twenty days since your heart had been torn in two, three and twenty days since you had seen your friends. Three and twenty days since your childhood ailment re-emerged and the nightmares began.

You turned your head slightly to the chair beside your bed. Your daffodil gown lay draped over it, so near yet very out of reach.

Memories of the gazebo: of Taehyun, the spark of the something he made you feel, his lies. Their lies. You felt bile rise in your throat. Your eyes drifted past the dress to the tall mirror on the other side of the room. Your eyes had rings around them so dark and purple they looked bruised. Your hair, unbrushed and unruly, was damp with sweat. Your complexion had become so paled and your cheeks so hollowed that it was as if illness had befallen you.

And it had. You turned away.

Your entire life had been uprooted and turned inside out. Your friends, your family, had lied to you. They had been lying to you for years. And worst of all: even that you would have forgiven. Then you recalled how they behaved as they rushed you from the Manor, how they acted during the carriage ride that took you away. The cold and indifferent manner about them – Taehyun’s, as he wrapped a shawl around your shoulders and shoved you away. You didn’t recognise him – them, anymore. They had thrown you into this hell-hole of a cabin in the woods and left you here, without a promise to return or even so much as an explanation for these preposterous actions and behaviours. Absolutely nothing was left for you, other than a ridiculous title you refused to consider.

“Your majesty,” came Jim’s voice from behind your room door, followed by a light knock. You clenched your teeth and pressed your nails into the palm of your hand. No matter what terrors had come for you during your slumber, opening your eyes everyday had become the true nightmare.

When he had gathered you would not answer, he sighed. “Your majesty, please. I am well aware of your hurt and confusion. I’ve given you time. But you have not eaten, bathed or even left this room for weeks. You need to do something.”

Angry, you picked up the empty bronze candlestick from the bedside table and flung it at the door. He was right. You were confused and hurt. But what of it could he possibly understand?. Nothing was real. You hadn’t the slightest idea what the motives of these people were, nor any actual idea of what was happening at all. One thing you were certain of, however, was that they were not who you had thought they were. And with nowhere to escape to, with no one searching or waiting for you, you could not even summon the energy to escape this prison cell.

You know that is not true, a little voice in your head whispered, you know them. You have them, you have Taehyun.

You stomped on that voice and shoved it back from where it came, into a deep dark black dungeon, before locking the door and leaving it there to rot and throwing away the key. Jim left.

Hours had passed with you curled up on your bed before you heard the cabin’s floorboards creak outside your room once more. There came another knock. “Your highness. I’ve prepared supper. It is imperative that you eat, else you’ll starve to death.”

I should be so lucky, you thought. Without moving from your bed, you squinted through the crack in your heavily barricaded window. The light outside had gone from bright white, to an orange-y gold. Four and twenty days.

Jim cleared his throat, no doubt to indicate that he was still there, then said, “I was going to wait until you’d gained some strength, but in your lack of finding it I hope that perhaps telling you now will motivate you to it. A letter came this morning. The young masters are preparing to depart for our location.”

You froze. Your heart felt as if it had stopped, but that was merely for a moment before it raced, beating fast and hard against your ribcage. It thrust you into rage, into fear, and the traitorous thing it was, into longing and a smidge of excitement.

You pushed off from your bed, slipped on your boots and eyed the shawl piled in the corner of your room where you had thrown it on the night of your arrival. You were in nothing more than dirty cotton undergarments with bare arms, but you didn’t care. You marched right past it and slammed your door open. Jim stared back at you with an infuriatingly amused smirk that only faltered when his eyes assessed your state. And then it was your turn to be amused. You curtseyed, just to piss him off.

The cabin was dark, which didn’t help your weakened eyesight. But through a small window in what you presumed to be the kitchen, an amount of light filtered through that enabled you to see a steaming bowl of broth and a loaf of bread on the table. You shoved past him and threw yourself onto a chair and started eating.

The first of many battles you imagined were lying in wait in your new life would be fought soon. You needed your strength.

Jim pulled out the seat across from you, you didn’t acknowledge him. He poured you a cup of water and you didn’t thank him. When you finished your meal, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and leaned back.

“When do they arrive?”

Jim examined you for a long moment before he spoke. “Three days time.”

The cabin must be a distance away from the city, you thought. Perhaps in a new city all together.

“I’m supposing you can’t tell me anything until they arrive?” you asked, already knowing the answer. His silence confirmed it so. You forced yourself to look up at him, the only person who had offered you a home and work, who fed you and was kind to you when no one else was. But all you saw in that moment was another person who had driven a knife into your back. Whatever expression you were making made him frown. “Who are you, really? You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked as if he were sorting through which lie or half-truth to tell you before his attention was back on you.

“My name is Noh Jaegeun. I was captain of the Royal Guard and a close friend of your father’s.”

Surprise nudged you upright. “My father? I don’t have a father.” you shook your head, your eyebrows knitting together. “I was abandoned. I made you aware of that when I started working for you.”

He looked as if your response pained him, shattering the glimmer of hope and fear that they had found the wrong person. “Enough talking. Freshen up, Your Majesty. A warm bath and clean clothes await you. Muslin was the best I could find, but it will have to do. There are some novels here that the young masters–”

“I have a better idea, Mr. Noh,” you said, not without the re-emerging queasy feeling in your gut. You steeled yourself. “Since you won’t talk and those bastards – a title not exclusive of yourself, by the way – won’t be here for three more days, we shall have an alarming amount of free time on our hands. I have absolutely no intention of abating my anger and frolicking in the damn daisies with you while you keep me captive, so let us put that time to good use, shall we?”

He didn’t reply, waiting for your proposition.

“I want you to teach me to defend myself.”

A smile curled onto his lips, as if he were thinking the very same thing.

***

The estate was bustling this evening. Nobles from all around the Kingdom of Serafina drank, laughed, danced and gossiped with abandon, as if the end of the world were nearing and it was in this way that they chose to spend their last moments. It made Huening Kai sick to his stomach.

He swirled the wine in his glass, tearing his eyes from the appalling beings floating around the Kang Estate, and took a sip. With all the power and money in the world, these animals spent their time fueling their greed and basking in gluttony, corrupting societies and people as they saw fit. Their status was so important to them, that they’d trample on people and turn a blind eye toward immorality to keep it. He should know, some, if not most, of his family were exactly that.

From his secluded corner in the hall, he spotted the youngest Kang on a sofa in the opposite corner, just in time to see him throw back another drink. On either side of him sat a daughter from a noble family, so consumed with keeping his attention on them that they never even realized they never had it in the first place. They never stood a chance. There was a look on Taehyun’s face that Kai knew far too well. A look that he was likely wearing too: he’d like to be anywhere but here.

Taehyun had just called a busboy for another drink when a gentle hand came down onto Kai’s shoulder drawing his attention. He turned and smiled. “Yujun,” he said warmly, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Kai,” she returned the smile and slipped her arm through his. She looked just as dashing as royalty should: a beautiful champagne-coloured silk gown hugged her hips before falling to her feet, stark white gloves stretched just above her elbows and jewellery glittered off her ears, around her neck and from the small tiara on her head. She looked wonderful, but something about it made sadness tug at his heart. “He’s not doing too well, is he?”

Kai followed her gaze to Taehyun, and it occurred to him that she must have been keeping an eye on them. He chuckled, “None of us are. It is almost a month.”

“I am sorry.” She had a sincere, understanding look in her eyes when she took Kai’s face into her hands. Her thumbs gently caressed his face and her smile returned to her lips. She leaned up to his ear and whispered, “the letter has been delivered. We must leave tonight.”

Hope blossomed in Kai’s chest and he moved to place a grateful kiss to Yujun’s forehead. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Don’t be silly,” she snorted, shoving his shoulder playfully. “I would have done this for you even if there weren’t greater things at play, so your thanks are by no means necessary.” Her gaze then drifted back to Taehyun. She sighed. “You should probably inform him, though. Before he does something idiotic.”

Kai looked at Taehyun. He had pulled the top buttons of his shirt loose and was in the middle of downing yet another drink. He sighed and shook his head. “You underestimate him. If he’s going to lose it at any moment, it’ll not be this one. There is far too much at stake.”

He bid Yujun farewell until they were to leave and threw Taehyun one last glance before deciding to share the news with the others first. His friend wouldn’t lose control now, but that didn’t mean he would not be a bitch to deal with in his current state.

Kai found Yeonjun, Beomgyu and Soobin in the courtyard, along with Haewon. Haewon was sitting on the wall of the koi pond with her knees in her chest, feeding the fish, while Yeonjun, Beomgyu and Soobin were sitting on the stone bench before her. If Kai had walked in on them only a month ago, they would have been dancing and laughing just like every other member of the ton; as if their mission and purpose didn’t exist. They had all been fools, Kai and Taehyun included.

“I guarantee I have news that will make you jump for joy,” Kai said, squeezing in between the boys on the bench. Yeonjun and Beomgyu didn’t even flinch, and Soobin regarded him with an unamused look.

“Unless you are here to tell us that all this shit is over, we can go to (Y/n) and that we have her forgiveness, I must tell you we are deeply otherwise occupied.” Beomgyu said after a while, his eyes still glued onto something in the darkening sky.

Haewon glared at him and flung him with a bread crumb. “Forget him, sweetheart. What is it?”

Kai gave them a grateful smile. “I– ”

“Oh god, this is just sad.”

All of them stiffened, straighter than steel rods. The sound of Yoon Keeho’s wretched laughter filled the air and Yeonjun’s hands balled into fists. He was leaning against the doorway leading to the house with a drink in hand, no doubt a malicious expression etched onto his damned face.

“Do not tell me you’re moping around because your poor little tavern-girl abandoned you,” he laughed again and started toward them. No one faced him. No one dared to. One little slip, and the past month would have been for naught.

He came to a stop in front of them, his lips pulled into a smug smirk. Then he lifted his finger to his chin in thought. “I wonder what it was that even a lowly barmaid cannot be bothered with you lot,” he hummed, tapping his finger. He gasped dramatically, throwing a glance to Haewon before grinning at Yeonjun. “Maybe she’s just a little greedy and prefers to be the only whore in your lives.”

Yeonjun flew to his feet and was inches from making contact with Keeho’s face, before more laughter spilled into the courtyard and made him falter. Taehyun sauntered toward them with a huge grin on his face that made Kai feel dread in the pit of his stomach. Surely this isn’t his end, is it?

He threw back another drink before sending the glass to shatter against a stone wall at the edge of the courtyard. Then he started clapping. Both Keeho and Yeonjun wore matching expressions, something between rage and utter perplexity, while Beomgyu and Soobin jumped up quickly. Kai took the moment to check on Haewon, who gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Keeho.” Taehyun said finally, shoving his hands into his pockets. Up close, the amusement on Taehyun’s face was even more frightening. It looked almost… real. “I never imagined you would be the one to have us all figured out. You never really were the bright one, but I suppose people do surprise you.”

Keeho bristled and Yeonjun took a step back as Soobin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh shut up, Kang.” then he smiled again, “you made it so easy, what with the way your eyes were always so obviously lusting after her, following her every move. Like a little puppy dog! It is simply beneath us, man.”

Beomgyu slipped between them quickly, “Listen, that is enough, okay?” he put a hand on Keeho’s shoulder and chuckled, “this is a party right, let’s –”

“Do you want her then? I mean, after the little tantrum you threw at Torpe Manor to get all our fathers’ knickers in a twist, I assumed you would go after her while we were all locked up.”

Beomgyu spun on his heel, his expression of pure shock matching Kai’s. Even Keeho appeared to be stunned. But before he could reply, Taehyun shrugged. And then that amusement vanished and a fire raged within his eyes.

“You will never have her, because she is too good even for the likes of us, you repulsive ingrate swine,” he shoved a finger into his chest. He took a step toward Keeho then, so that their faces were mere inches apart, and grinned. “And when the time comes, I should like to see her castrate your beloved, disease-ridden organ and throw it to the flames where you would soon follow.” Keeho gulped and Taehyun smirked, before his lips twisted into a snarl. “Now I dare not rob her of that honor, so you better get the fuck off this property before I kill you myself.”

He was gone within a second. Soobin turned and glared at Taehyun. “Great. Now it appears suspicious that you’ve defended her. You’ve basically handed him a spoon to stir the pot with. Do you even realize how far behind schedule this is going to set us?”

Taehyun ignored him and took a seat beside Haewon. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he gave her a soft smile in return. “I am very sorry you’ve been dragged into this. You should not have had to hear that. It is most untrue.”

She shook her head. “I am alright. I knew what I was getting myself into. And I, for one, am glad you let him have it.”

Kai sighed. “Well, I suppose we’re lucky then.”

“Oh yeah, we’re just… overflowing with all this luck,” Beomgyu mumbled sarcastically, gesturing to all of him.

Kai rolled his eyes. “You would actually think so if you’d only let me say what I came here to tell you.”

“What did you come to say?” Taehyun asked, energy dissipated and returned to the mere shell of a person he was before. Kai pained for him.

“The letter has reached Alvar.” Their necks snapped in his direction and Kai’s chest leapt with hope once more. “We leave tonight.”

***

You inched into the bath slowly, wincing as your aching muscles made contact with the warm water. As soon as the initial pain faded, you sunk to the bottom with a contented sigh.

Noh Jaegeun was a merciless dictator. Clearly, you had no idea what had been lying in wait for you when you had asked him to train you. For the past three days, he had woken you before dawn and dismissed you long after dusk had come and gone. To build your endurance he made you run three miles twice a day; which you absolutely detested, but used to your advantage to try and gain bearings on where exactly you were. But it was no use. There were only damned trees for as far as the eye could see. You had tried to recall the maps you came across in Soobin’s father’s library for any woodlands or mountain ranges, but the topography and terrain didn’t match anything, so you came up blank. It also was challenging to separate those memories from them, and you refused to feel any heart ache over them.

After your morning run, he had begun teaching you various styles of combat. You had been quite bewildered on the evening you asked him to help you, when he had led you further into the cabin instead of out of it. He had taken you into a room that appeared to be a supply closet and pulled up a trapdoor from the floor. Below, a galvanised staircase spiralled down into darkness. On the outside, the cabin was a small, two bedroom place tucked into the vegetation. But when you made it to the bottom of the staircase, you paled.

A secret, makeshift base of sorts had been below you the entire time. A number of closed doors lined the seemingly never-ending hallway. You hadn’t seen another person in nearly a month, but as he escorted you through the base you were certain you could make out voices emanating from some of them. “Do not get curious, Your Majesty. Not yet. Everything in its due time.” Is what Jaegeun had said.

He stopped at a grey-painted metal door and pushed it open. Your room back at Jim’s could fit in there ten times. Thin mattresses lined the floor and the walls were floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A cylindrical beam of varnished wood followed along the front of the mirrors diagonally and served as a sort of railing. In one corner, the only space without mirror, stood a range of different weapons. Swords, daggers, guns, arrows, spears, axes, things that had set your instincts on high alert.

“Not to worry about those things yet, Highness, your first lesson will be in hand-to-hand combat.” Jaegeun chuckled, and before you could retort, he had pulled your legs from under your feet.

Perhaps it would be laughable to liken the past three days of your life to hell, because everything before that was pretty much hell too. But at least the physical exertion had made your body too tired for the nightmares to find.

You sighed, and rested your head against the edge of the tub. Three days had come to an end. As much as you had liked to think that you had turned yourself off emotionally, the idea of confronting the truth that would come with the arrival of your (ex) friends was haunting. That you were not who you had grown up believing you were and that Taehyun, Kai, Yeonjun, Soobin and Beomgyu had never really cared for you. The possible truth that every moment of your life for as long as you could remember had been a lie.

You squeezed your eyes shut to fight back the tears. You would not cry. You would not miss them if they would leave you. You would not miss your life, that was not particularly special anyway. But the mantra would not abate your tears, so you let yourself slip beneath the water. Perhaps, if you held your breath long enough, when you came up everything would return to the way it was.

Heavy banging on the door took you by surprise and you burst out of the water, chest heaving.

“Majesty, supper’s ready.”

“For Christ’s sake, Jim! I’ll be there shortly!”

The sound of his hearty laughter made you want to ring his damned neck. You dried up and slipped into the white muslin dress Jim had given you for sleeping. He had regarded your previous attire with disgust and thrown them into the fire in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The aroma of roasted quail swirled through the cabin and into your nose, making your stomach ache and rumble. You plopped down onto your seat at the kitchen table and took a piece of meat with your fork and put it in your mouth, without waiting for Jaegeun. He still refused to give you the answers you desired, so you would not waste any pleasantries on him. It did bother you that you felt you were indulging in his kindnesses, and despite the circumstances, you were. Being so unwilling to even mutter a thank you made your skin crawl, but every time you wanted to, your hurt would grab those words right back and bury them out of reach.

“Your modesty is wasted, Your Highness.” Jaegeun said as he sat down opposite you. You arched a brow in response. “I am well aware of your appetite, and how much you like roast quail. So feast until your heart’s content.”

Your heart warmed, ever-so-slightly. It made you think, for a split second, that perhaps you did mean something to this man you had seen as a father figure. You opened your mouth to thank him finally, but the sound of heavy hooves against the ground cut you off and you clamped your jaws together. You felt nauseous.

“So, what? This is supposed to make me feel better?” you scoffed. You banged your fork on the table, “I cannot even eat without it being someone’s ulterior motive?”

Before he was any the wiser, you grabbed his hunting knife from the counter and dashed for the front door. You ran out onto the porch with a fire in your heart, your fingers gripping the weapon and adrenaline pumping through your veins. When they climbed out of the carriage, their eyes were already on you. One by one, all of them stepped out, slowly, with their eyes fixed on you. Something swam in their eyes, something you no longer cared to decipher.

You stormed from the porch and picked up pace, raising the knife above your head. Before you knew it, Taehyun was there. You could not even remember if you had seen him get out. He looked into your eyes and his fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping you steady as your emotions battled within. Again, like that evening by the gazebo, his chocolate-brown eyes seemed to be desperately communicating something with yours without saying anything at all. Your short breaths were evening, and you hated it. You were faltering, and you hated it. Tears were burning in the backs of your eyes, and you despised it.

And then that moment was gone. He flung Jaegeun’s hunting knife to the ground and locked himself behind a bolted door. You didn’t recognize this man who had changed in an instant, one you looked at you so indifferently. You’d rather he hated you.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you croaked rather than said, much to your dismay. You shoved him away. You did not want him to confirm your beliefs; that you were nothing other than flesh to him. You did not want him to see the effect that that truth would have on you. “Why are you holding me prisoner here!”

Yeonjun stepped forward with a strained expression on his face and a hand held up showing he meant no harm. “Darling, let’s not do this here. Okay? Let’s talk inside. I promise we will tell you everything.” he pleaded quietly.

You took a step back and shook your head. “No. No, that’s what you said before. You said you would explain everything to me.” your breaths were quickening again, tears prickling past your eyes. “You said you’d explain everything, but you lied! You couldn’t even look at me. None of you! You threw me here and went away for a month. All of you keep calling me Your Highness as if that makes any damned sense, but you don’t treat me like you even think of me highly at all!”

“(Y/n),” Kai begged, inching toward you slowly. “It is not so simple, okay? Let us just go inside and all will be clear once we talk.”

“Was anything real?” you whispered.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and you were pulled into the warmth and firmness of a familiar chest. “Of course, it was.” Beomgyu breathed into your hair. And you finally let yourself cry. Your shoulders heaved with your sobs and you were so embarrassed you buried your face deeper into him. A month’s worth of tears came cascading down your face like tiny waterfalls.

More arms came and joined in on your embrace, and you felt yourself smile in spite of your pain.

“We missed you. Very much.” Soobin mumbled from somewhere in the tangle of arms and faces.

The cabin seemed different with them inside it. For one, they were bizzarley tall, so it made the space where you and Jaegeun shared meals look that much smaller. You stifled a giggle when Soobin’s head hit one of the top cabinets. The kettle sang from where it hung above the fire in the fireplace, and with a dry cloth, Jaegeun retrieved it and poured everyone a spot of tea.

“It’s none of the fancy stuff you lot are used to, but it is better than nothing.”

Yeonjun sniffed the liquid and recoiled. “What did you use, dried rat shit?”

“Oh, be quiet. It’s not that bad,” you rolled your eyes. But it was. It was that bad. You had only gotten used to the acidic tasting concoction.

“She is right, it could be worse. Like it could be dried rat shit and that mint atrocity you so enjoy.” Beomgyu grinned, but threw his tea into the fire.

“Can’t imagine any of this is good for the environment,” Soobin belched. “What is the acid value like?”

“You’re all being impossible. Imagine how (Y/n) must feel, she’s had to have this stuff for a whole month.” Kai stilled as soon as the words left his mouth.

A solemn silence now enveloped the tiny kitchen space. No one dared to say anything, not eager to end the few seconds of normalcy you had all had for weeks. You let yourself get distracted with the crackling fire, and lifted yourself up from your chair to sprawl before it.

You felt Taehyun’s eyes burn into the back of your head as you moved. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since they had arrived, and when everyone moved into the cabin, he kept to himself in a corner. You refused to give him the satisfaction of being the first to break whatever tension had built between you two. You hadn’t changed, he did. Long gone was the man who comforted you by the lake and danced with you until you laughed.

“What is going on?” you asked no one in particular. You did not care who it was that answered, you just needed to know. The thought of learning the truth did still make you uneasy, but you feared that in avoiding it, the uneasiness would only fester.

Boots stomped against the floorboards and Yeonjun flopped down beside you. “We didn’t lie, love. It is… more complicated than that.”

“Not telling the truth is lying, Yeonjun.” you turned to him. He looked sad.

“We needed to protect you,” he said, gathering your hands in his. “Your protection was infinitely more important than anything else. You must know that.”

“And what makes me so important?”

“I am sure you know by now, Your Majesty.” the roughness in Taehyun’s voice startled you. You looked to him in his corner, and as had you suspected, he was already looking back at you.

“Remember Keeho’s party?” Kai interjected, looking between the two of you. You nodded and a shiver ran down your spine. With all that had happened, you had almost forgotten him. His handsome face that unsettled you, and the look in his eyes that sent you fleeing. It sparked something somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“Keeho’s party was a bit of a ruse,” Soobin said next, keeping eyes on the floor with a guilty expression on his face. “on both ends.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had been suspecting for weeks before the party that a small number of Yoon Estate spies had been watching us,” Beomgyu said, dragging his thumb along the rim of his cup. “Our biggest concern was that they had been sent by Keeho's father, but after intercepting them we realized it was simply that heathen Keeho himself.”

““Simply Keeho”?”

Beomgyu nodded. He was quiet for a second, then swallowed and looked at you with apologetic eyes. “We were not sure what he knew, what motivated him to keep informants tailing us. We could not risk everything on the possibility that he was simply bored out of his mind. We knew the party was his ruse, a means to discover what made a barmaid so special for us to concern ourselves with, but it was the perfect excuse for us to confirm what he knew.” he shook his head, “and it wasn’t for naught. Keeho had certainly been suspecting your true identity. The entire soiree had been a sham: the palace simply awaited his word, they were going to reveal you and it was imperative that we get you to safety. You being discovered would risk everything many people have spent years trying to achieve.”

Your head was spinning. You had thought that that night was special, because you were under the impression that your friends wanted you to know how important you were to them, regardless of what the sick society of Serafina believed. That your status didn’t matter to them and they were going to show you. But they had used you as bait. A knot formed in your stomach, but you soldiered on. “And what is it that makes me so important? What have these people you speak of, including yourselves I’m sure, been trying to achieve?”

“You, your Highness, are the daughter of Yihyun and Dam. You are the Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Serafina. The sole heir to your father’s throne.” Taehyun said monotonously before anyone else could.

You shot to your feet in disbelief. You scoffed, “That is - it is just preposterous! I was abandoned on the streets as a child. Orphanages didn’t want me so I worked as a scullery maid before I was kicked out of that household, too! I am an orphaned barmaid, you know this. You know me!”

“How about before that?” Taehyun stepped towards you and you instinctively took steps back. “How about before the age of nine? Do you remember being on the streets then? Surely someone must have taken care of you if you’re standing here with us today?”

You did not like his tone. You did not like what he was saying. You tried to think back, as far as you could, but it felt like hitting a brick wall. Nothing came. The most you could recall were the fits you had when you worked as a scullery maid. You shook your head and laughed, “No. Who of us remembers anything from when they were very little. You have the wrong person, gentlemen. I am no princess.”

Taehyun backed you up against a wall. His warm breath fanned against your cheeks as he spoke. “You are the Princess of Serafina. Your father was murdered by the current King, and you fell ill and were lost whilst attempting to flee. That throne is rightfully yours, your Majesty. Whether you’d like to believe it or not. We will put you there.”

You gulped, the look in his eyes making your insides melt. You tore your eyes from him and searched everyone else’s faces for some sort of different answer. Some sort of sign that this was all some sick, elaborate prank. But in the sea of guilty eyes, you found Noh Jaegeun.

Captain of the Royal Guard. Friend of your father’s.

Something in the back of your mind sparked again. Something that desperately wanted to come to the fore, that your subconscious kept forcing back down. And then all at once, the vivid images of your nightmares filled your vision. Except now you were not sleeping. And you were not sure if they were simply nightmares anymore.

A keyhole. Screams. Tearing flesh. A fire. Blood. Lots of blood.

Hot bile rose in your throat and you shoved Taehyun aside. You pushed through the front door, your friends shouting after you. You ran. You ran and ran and ran. As far as your legs would take you. You tore through bushes and branches and they tore into your clothes and skin. You were not sure how far you had made it before you tripped over a tree root and fell to your face.

Chest heaving and body screaming in pain, you slowly lifted yourself and threw up. You threw up so much you were sure your innards would come up next. Your ears were ringing loudly. You grabbed onto your hair and tugged at your scalp in attempt to lessen the agony.

“Where are you off to, Princess?” Mr. Noh smiled as you marched past him with a small tray in hand. He fell into step with you and you groaned. You did not need to be escorted to your father’s library. You knew where it was.

You stopped and turned to him, keeping the tray in one hand while the other perched on your hip. “I am just bringing daddy some cookies. I made them myself, you know. Because I am old enough to do things on my own now.”

He threw his head back in laughter and your eight year-old face burned with embarrassment. “Of course, My Lady.”

“I could have your head,” you huffed and continued to your father’s library.

Your hand paused on the door as you heard sounds of a scuffle inside. Your father was shouting at someone. He was angry. You did not like when he was angry. You peered up at Mr. Noh. He also looked upset, and kept his hand on his sword. Quickly, you pushed open the door and scurried inside.

The king and his brother stood at opposite ends of his desk. Your father’s face was red, like he was very upset, but his eyes only looked sad. His brother just looked cross.

“Daddy, is everything okay?”

Both heads snapped in your direction. Your father’s face changed instantly, a smile spreading onto his lips. “Everything is alright, my rose. What is it you’ve got there?”

You warily eyed him and your uncle, and then slowly walked toward them. Maybe they were fighting like you and Jaehyun fought sometimes. You and Jaehyun were also siblings. And you still loved your older brother even when you fought. Everything was fine.

A huge grin found it’s way to your face. “I made cookies! Miss Boyoung in the kitchen taught me how.”

“That is fantastic, my rose. I am sure they taste just as splendid as they look.” your father winked, nudging your nose and ruffling the top of your head. Your grin grew.

You turned to offer your uncle one as well, but he was long gone. So was Mr. Noh.

You looked back to your father who was happily munching on your cookies, as if nothing happened at all.

“Daddy,” you said, a strange feeling in your belly, “you and uncle Yiseok won’t fight anymore, right?”

He pulled you into his lap and kissed the top of your head. Then he looked out of the door from which his brother left. “I hope so.”

***

“Oh this is just fucking brilliant.” Kai seethed, flinging his sword through more bushes.

Taehyun ignored him, searching the ground for any sign you had passed through. Or sprinted through. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. And a little impressed. One couldn’t have made you run even if one tied a fresh mango to a string and had you chase after it. You would just purchase another mango. Taehyun made a mental note to compliment Jaegeun when they found you.

“Positively, dear Kai. And it is all thanks to our good friend, Taehyun.” Beomgyu faux grinned, slapping a hand onto his back. “Well done, man. You truly are the epitome of elegance and grace.”

Taehyun turned and glared at him. “If anyone is a fool, it would be one of you lot. At least I am not pretending that things aren’t going to change from here on out. She is a princess. This isn’t a game, or some make-believe fantasy. We have a job. We’re to do our job as best we can.”

“Oh for the love of God,” Yeonjun growled, grabbing Taehyun shoulder and slamming his fist into his face. Taehyun fell to the floor. He barely had time to gain his bearings before Yeonjun hoisted him up again by his coat. But before he could say anything, Kai grabbed hold of him and gave him another beating.

“Stop being a fucking coward!” Kai shouted, his chest rumbling with anger.

Everyone fell silent. Taehyun smiled, spitting the metallic taste of blood from his mouth. “Yes, she is a princess. Yes, the gravity of our mission is immense. Yes, we’ve kept the truth from her and yes, she needs to come to terms with it now. But for fuck’s sake man,” Kai huffed out an angry chuckle, “That wasn’t fake. The time we spent with her, and the relationship we’ve all developed with her was not fake. Whether she turned out to be a pivotal part of the retribution or not, we would all do anything to protect her. Stop trying to make yourself believe that the only thing she is to you is a job. You care about her, Taehyun. So stop unnecessarily hurting her and yourself.”

Taehyun chuckled softly, then doubled over in loud eccentric laughter. “That is easy for you to say,” he said with amusement, lifting himself from the floor. He wiped his mouth and cleaned his clothes from the foliage. “None of us will have any excuse to stick around once she claims what is hers. No one,” Taehyun walked toward Kai and shoved a finger to his chest, “except you. So do not tell me what the fuck to do. And if all of you want to save yourself the time and effort,” he called over his shoulder to the rest of them, “I would start creating some of that distance now.”

None of them said anything more. They couldn’t.

Taehyun moved forward without them, keeping an eye out for tracks. After he had put some distance between him and them, he leaned against a tall oak tree. Swallowing a heavy lump in his throat, he took a deep breath and tilted his head up to the big, glittering twilight canvas above. It was a clear night, with a gentle breeze that seemed to want to comfort him with its soft caress.

His last evening, that had a semblance of peace, was just like this one. But it was at a different time and a different place. And in some ways, it felt like it had been in a different world altogether. Instead of being so far away from him, you were right there – right next to him. He could still smell the soft peach scent of your skin, feel your hands in his and hear your lively laughter as you danced under the gazebo at Torpe Manor. It was the perfect night – every second with you was perfect, but something about that night was much more special. There was so much… of you. So much of you seeing him. He had fooled himself into believing that things could remain as they were.

And as quickly as that peace came, the universe so determined to strip everything good away from him, it left just as quickly. Reality was no friend to anyone, after all.

He steeled himself, pushing all thoughts of you from of his mind, and continued through the forest.

Then, between the sounds of cicadas and the nocturnal fauna coming to life, Taehyun could make out faint sobs. He froze, panic setting into his system. Slowly he followed them, and when the sobs got louder his feet kicked into a run. He bulldozed through the distance between you, his mind playing out all sorts of scenarios of the state he’d find you in, his heart in his throat.

He found you curled up in a foetal position against the base of a tree, fists pressed against your temples and face wrought in anguish. Your night dress was tattered and stained with spots of blood. Without sparing a second, he fell to his knees and shrugged his coat off. He bundled you with it tightly and pulled you into his arms. Urgently, he rocked you to and fro.

“Shh,” he consoled you and soothed your cries, subconsciously pressing kisses into your hair. “you are okay, love. You’re okay, (Y/n). I’m here. God, I am so sorry, but I am here.”

It took a few minutes to calm you down, for your breaths to even and for your mind to quiet. It looked as if opening your eyes was of great difficulty to you, but when you did, it was all Taehyun could do not to scream gratitudes to the Heavens above. A smile, unbeknownst to him, cracked onto his lips as he took you in. Ethereal even in the state you were. You smiled back at him and tucked yourself into his chest.

“There you are,” you mumbled wearily into his shirt, “I missed you. You called me by my name.”

He sighed in relief, in contentment, in gratitude, arms tightening around you. His head dropped to yours. “Please do not run off like this again. It is dangerous.”

You were quiet then and he wondered if you had fallen asleep.

“Because I am the princess?”

“Because you will hurt yourself, Princess.” he chuckled. And then you’ll hurt me.

You said something he didn’t quite hear because the thundering sound of hundreds of feet drowned out the sound of your voice. Annoyed, he lifted you and walked back the way he came to see what the commotion was about.

Soldiers in shining metal armour lined the trees with torches in hand. Atop a horse striding through the foliage was a familiar face that made Taehyun smile. He stepped further out and reached out his hand. She spotted him and steered the horse forward.

“Princess,” Taehyun laughed. “Always right on time.”

She rolled her eyes. “For Heaven’s sake, Taehyun. It’s Yujun.”

***

When you came to, you were back at the cabin. You wondered, momentarily, if you had perhaps dreamed up the past few hours. You were not any wiser of your identity, the boys’ whereabouts, or your painful history. Jim would come to wake you any second for your morning run. But for some reason, that thought did not make you happy or being you the contentment you had hoped.

You sat up in bed and were blinded by a bright light spilling in through your window. You squinted and realized that the wooden barricades were gone. You looked around your room, and found it tidier than you remembered leaving it. The candlestick had been polished and refilled, the novels you hadn’t had the time or courage to open were stacked neatly in a corner of your bedside table, a hairbrush sitting atop of it. The chair beside your bed had moved closer, and the shawl Taehyun had given you was draped across the back. A polished, mahogany wardrobe sat in the furthest corner of your room that you did not recall being there before.

The room door opened and a beautiful woman walked in, bringing with her a radiant light of her own. Her dark hair was pinned up and decorated with flowers. She was a little taller than you were, and wore a white blouse paired with brown trousers and black knee-high boots. In her hands were garments varying in style and colour, that she carried to the wardrobe. She placed the garments inside and turned, letting out a little shriek when she realized you were awake.

Now that she faced you, you remembered her clearly. You bowed your head.

“My lady.”

She walked to your bed and sat in the chair, snorting, “Please. None of those formalities are necessary. We are all family here. I am Yujun.”

Family. Your stomach twisted into a knot. The term had become a lot more complicated to you since you upon discovery that those closest to you were keeping things from you, and that the biological parents you only just remembered you had may be dead.

“You’ve had a very difficult few weeks,” Yujun started, kicking her right leg over her left and lacing her fingers over her knee, “And I imagine last night to this morning was the worst of them combined. You have my sincerest apologies for that. We brought you right back here as soon as we found you. You were burning up.”

You examined the bandages on your arms and remembered it had been Taehyun who had found you. Your face turned red. You noticed your dress had been exchanged for a new one, and then your face was crimson. Yujun seemed to pick up on your train of thought instantly, and she smirked.

“Not to worry about that. I was the one who cleaned you up. Although, Mr. Kang did insist on tending to your wounds.” she wiggled her eyebrows and you dropped your burning face into your hands. Were all royalty this brazen?

“Th-Thank you,” you forced a smile.

She jutted her thumb toward the wardrobe. “You will find some clothes in there. Fit for a Queen of the impending war,” she winked and another knot found its way to your stomach. “When you have finished cleaning up, Mr. Noh has prepared breakfast, but is currently patrolling the grounds. The boys are waiting for you in the training area below.”

You remembered the trap door and the secret base, and nodded. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and bid you adieu. Something about business to tend to at the castle.

You picked out an outfit that made you feel ready for battle, even though you did not really feel as if you were: a pirate-sleeved white blouse that you paired with a pale green corset, a pair of black trousers and black boots. You decided to leave your hair as unruly as it was since it was bound to get messed up anyway. You scarfed down the breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen and hurried down to the base.

“Don’t you look ravishing!” Kai exclaimed as you walked into the training room. As if he were one to talk. His shirt hung loosely on his body and his trousers fitted him well. His light hair looked wind-swept in the best way, and fell over his eyes in gentle waves. The rest turned to look at you with similar reactions and you blushed. He walked up to you and ruffled the top of your head.

“I owe it to Lady Yujun, she had the most beautiful outfits picked out for me.” you said coyly.

“If she hears you call her that, she’ll have your head.” Kai laughed. You remembered suddenly that they were familiar, and your smile faltered ever-so slightly.

“Before we start your training,” Taehyun spoke up, and you are embarrassed to say that your head snapped in his direction faster than light, with the anticipation of a drooling puppy, “we all agree it is imperative that we complete our discussion from last night.”

You sucked in a breath. Not because Taehyun, too, looked absolutely insanely inhumanely beautiful, or because his shirt hung so low you could see the top of his chest, or because you recalled how he held you last night, but because, above all, you didn’t feel ready to hear the rest of their story.

“It is okay,” you breathed out after a minute, averting your eyes, hoping to take with them the fluttery feeling that one should by no means feel for a best friend, specifically one who one is also at odds with. “I do not have to hear the rest. I get it.”

“(Y/n),” Kai said beside you. “You need to understand what all this is for. How we came to be friends.”

“But I do understand,” you said. Taehyun raised an eyebrow. “I am an important person. You need to make sure the King does not reach me.”

“I am afraid it is more than that, Darling.” Yeonjun sighed.

You looked to Taehyun. He observed you briefly (and your legs quivered) before he elaborated. “Yes, it is very important that we keep you safe. Jaegeun is of the belief that you may be the sole witness of the crime done to your family.” that powerful surge, of a memory trying to emerge, raked through your brain once more and you clenched your teeth. “If Yiseok is to learn you are alive, he will stop at nothing to end you quickly and quietly. That is why it was so important to send you away after the ball and cut all association with you completely. You needed to disappear.”

“Jaegeun spent months looking for you after the coup. You were all he needed for the people to realize the deeds of their new King. He had just about thought you dead, when he found you in an impoverished town on the outskirts of the city. A young mother was looking after you. You were in a very deep sleep. Jaegeun stayed with you, hoping for the day you would wake up and reveal everything. But when he left to get medicine from a doctor in the city, the mother had disappeared along with her child and you.”

“She sold me to that family. That is how I became a scullery maid,” you said listlessly, as if you were recalling a past life.

Taehyun nodded, “Yes. And by the time Jaegeun found you again, he realized that you did not even realize who you were. You only knew your name, because it was what Jaegeun had given that woman before she sold you off. It was time for a new plan.”

“When you started working at the tavern, Jaegeun contacted us. We were well acquainted with him already because he did a lot of the training of the sons of the high nobility – although we suspect he and the late King were already making preparations for the coup. We were his best students. We were supposed to watch you in the shadows, but we were compromised.” Soobin said, eyeing Taehyun.

“The market,” your eyes widened as you remembered. “A merchant had accused me of immorality,” you smiled, in spite of it all. “Taehyun had given him the most fabulous left-hook I have ever seen.”

“We were annoyed at first, but without that mistake, we would have never known you.” Beomgyu shrugged, softly pinching your cheek.

“What about your families? Is she aware of all this?” you turned to Yeonjun, “Haewon?”

Yeonjun grimaced. “No and yes. Some of our families, like the Lord and Lady Huening, are big supporters of the resistance. Others… are not. Haewon is wise of it all – and do not worry, she is under the protection of the Kingdom of Alvar. As are we.”

The image of the emblem on the door of the carriage the boys arrived in the night before flashed in your mind. A blue griffin in flight. Alvar. You were in Alvar. That explained why you could not recall the topography from Soobin’s maps. Yujun was no duchess. She was a princess.

“What part does Alvar play in all of this? How did you get them to join forces with you and not King Yiseok?”

“Alvar and Serafina have been at odds for hundreds of years. Your father had just about managed peaceful negotiations with them before he was killed. Yiseok was desperate to keep them on his side, which was why he…” Yeonjun trailed off, glancing at Kai. Kai looked like a deer caught in headlights. Like he had forgotten this part of the conversation. “Let’s just say he plans to have a marriage unite the kingdoms. Since he has no children of his own, he will select a member of the court.”

You paled. “Right.” you changed the subject. “How did no one suspect the royal family’s untimely death? I mean surely everyone must have questioned how perfectly healthy people met their end in one night?”

“Luck was not on our side, I’m afraid,” Soobin sighed. “The plague was rife in the city at the time your family died. Yiseok undoubtedly used that to his advantage. He pulled the strings and the filthy royals whose pockets’ he lines sang his song.”

Anger, no, rage burned in your chest. Your memory was still hazy, and there were still patches of your previous life that you could not find, but unbidden rage turned your vision red for the family you had lost, who had their lives taken from them unjustly.

“It is not simply for your protection that we’ve hidden you, (Y/n). We want you to fight.” Beomgyu said. “You give the resistance hope. Hope that the rightful heir will be seated on the throne. That you will take back the city, and return it to what it once was. Our mission was to ensure that you were ready for war when the time comes.”

You let those words churn in your mind. A month ago you were an orphaned barmaid whose biggest problem was keeping her feelings a secret from a nobleman. But now, you were a princess. A princess who had to fight for a kingdom, for vengeance, for the family she could not remember. Your shoulders slumped. You were angry, you wanted to gut your supposed uncle and leave him in a shallow grave. But you did not know if you were ready to shoulder the responsibility that came with a kingdom.

Like your thoughts were his, Taehyun took your hand and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You are not alone, Your Majesty. We are going to ensure you are ready and we are going to fight alongside you.”

You nodded, giving him the best smile you could muster. When you looked around you, you found you had been left alone with him. Your heart beat spiked.

“First lesson, Princess.” Before you could put two and two together, the tip of a sword pressed against the side of your neck. “Never ever let your guard down. Not only in battle. You never know when someone will betray you.”

He dropped the sword from your skin and you glared at him. You had been spending time with Jaegeun. You had your own tricks up your sleeve. You ducked and kicked his feet from under him, making a run to grab a sword of your own. When you turned to him with the stance Jaegeun had shown you, he had vanished.

You had only taken a step forward when you were slammed against a hard chest, an arm holding you in place while another held the long edge of the sword to your throat. “Lesson two,” Taehyun whispered, lips brushing against your ear and breath fanning along your neck. You gulped and attempted to banish his closeness and the memory of his chest and Torpe Manor from your mind. “Never turn your back on your enemy. Keep in mind I am going easy on you.”

You took your elbow to his groin and he groaned in pain. You knocked his weapon from his hands and grabbed hold of his arm, flipping him over your head and onto his back.

“Please,” You scoffed, a victorious grin rolling onto your lips as you held your sword to his neck. “That is not necessary.”

He groaned once more and turned onto his side. “I am pretty sure that is a foul, your Highness.”

“All is fair in love and war, Mr. Kang,” you shrugged in amusement. You crossed your legs beside him and flicked his head, “In any event, you have had that one coming for a while. You could have told me everything in the beginning, you did not have to pretend to be my friend.”

He let out a restrained laugh. “We had to make the act believable, after all. In the words of Yoon Keeho, what then would a group of second generation aristocrats be doing with a lowly barmaid?”

Your mouth dried. And then you were under him, your arms pinned to the mattress beneath you. You glared up at the smug expression on his face.

“Lesson three,” he said, leaning toward your face and coming to stop only a breath away from you. His gaze flitted between your eyes and your lips. You gulped. He backed off. “Never let your emotions get the better of you.”

Anger boiled in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck you.” you snapped, shoving his chest and storming off.

You were almost to the door, fury and hurt radiating off from you in waves, when he took hold of your arm. Firm enough to keep you there, gentle enough to let you know he had no intention of hurting you. You stayed that way for a long moment. You remembered the way he held you that morning, as if he was afraid that if he let up for even a second you would vanish.

His personality seemed to be going back and forth so quickly it was giving you whiplash. You knew not what internal war he was having with himself, or why he was pretending that you were simply a job to him – that he did not really care for you when you knew he did.

“If this was a real battle, you would never be able to walk away from it like this, Your Majesty.”

You snatched your hand back and turned to him. “I realize I am the princess. I am aware of what my purpose and yours is in the greater scheme of things,” you said, taking a shaky breath, “but you do not have to carry on this act, as if we are complete strangers. I do not understand why me being the princess means I cannot continue to be your friend, or why you keep pushing me away. You will not even call me by name like the rest do.” you shook your head, “I know you care for me. And you know I care for you. But I am not going to sit around and take your indifference like a good little princess. I have not done anything wrong and, whenever you are quite done throwing your little child-like fit, we can talk.”

You slammed the door behind you.

***

“You know, I can’t help but notice that you and dear Taehyun have not been on good terms lately.”

You snorted at Kai’s statement. It had taken you off guard, so you had to reposition yourself before taking aim again. Then the blade flew from your palm and hit the target dead centre, disturbing the leaves and twigs in its path. A victorious grin spread across your lips. Kai clapped and ruffled your hair.

“Well done, student. You are truly a natural.”

“Or I just have a very good teacher.”

Kai laughed and handed you a cup of water. Ten days had passed since your altercation with Taehyun. Your lessons had continued – Yeonjun taught you with great enthusiasm (to look like some sort of fictional hero, you supposed) to handle firearms, Soobin, to your surprise, introduced you to his arsenal of deadly poisons, sleeping potions and some experimental vials of truth serum you were not allowed to touch. Beomgyu taught you archery and horse-riding, and Kai taught you to use knives; his speciality was throwing daggers.

You learned that the boys actually excelled in all aspects of that which you were being taught. How they taught you was only according to who was the best at what they did. And, truthfully, you thought that your secretly badass friends were very, very cool.

Taehyun did not have another lesson with you since the first one. In fact, you were fairly certain he was avoiding you. You did not hope that he would follow after you that day; you needed to get away from him and clear your head. Everything had been too much to process then, it still was, so it didn’t help that your best friend was only making things harder for you. But after that, that evening, you had expected him to slip into your room and tell you he was sorry. To tell you everything was new and strange and a little unbelievable, but it was going to be okay. And then you would have believed it truly would be okay. He always did make everything okay, didn’t he?

You took a big gulp of water and swallowed down with it all the confusing things floating around in your mind. You did not need him. You did not need anyone. Especially not someone who ran all the way back to Serafina and hadn’t returned for nearly a fortnight.

“I would hope I am never the one on the receiving end of that look.” Kai arched a brow, a lopsided smile forming on his lips.

You shook your head with a smile of your own. “I suppose I am still trying to process all of this.”

He nodded his head, frowning. “No one expected you to be okay immediately, (Y/n). It is… a lot.”

“But I am doing better though. Especially since I am at least a little more inclined to believe you’re all not sickos who get off on imprisoning a girl in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

He threw his head back in laughter and your smile grew into a grin. Kai was the embodiment of light whenever he smiled. He was bright and warm and people were just drawn to him. You were no exception.

Your teacher decided you deserved a break, so the two of you made the decision to take a stroll through the forest. Most of your classes still took place in the training room at their base for your protection, but Kai had insisted on bringing you out for his lesson that day. Jaegeun was not happy about it, but the rest had gone to the Alvar to stock up on supplies and to visit Haewon, and without Taehyun to protest, Jaegeun agreed.

“That reminds me,” you said as Kai pushed a bushel from your path, “are your parents not wondering where you are? I mean, you lot have been away from Serafina for almost a fortnight. Wouldn’t Keeho and the King get suspicious?”

The path you were following narrowed. Kai placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you forward, warmth seeping into your body and remaining there even after he moved away. “Mine are fully aware of what we’re doing here. As are the Chois and Haewon’s family. As for the King…” he hesitated, “he believes we’re in Alvar engaging in marriage and peace talks with Yujun’s father.”

You bit down on your lip. Suddenly you were glad you could not see his face and he could not see yours. He did not seem happy about the marriage, and the others had this uncomfortable look about them whenever the betrothal was mentioned. You knew all of it was a ruse, for your sake, but that only made you feel worse. You suddenly had a renewed urgency to become the leader they needed.

Through some thick foliage, the path opened up to a small meadow. A quiet stream flowed through it, cutting its circumference in half. The grass was long and luscious, and beautiful white and yellow daisies stuck out between them. The afternoon sky was a big blue circle, rays of sun lighting it all up like shimmering diamonds. It was like a world within a world. It took your breath away.

You took a seat next to the stream and dipped your fingers inside. The water was clear and cool, so you took a scoop and washed your face. With a contented sigh, you stretched out on the grass and closed your eyes. Kai chuckled, but joined you.

“Did you ever question Jaegeun when he contacted you again?” Many minutes of peaceful silence had passed, but you knew that your life now could be anything but peaceful. You had too many questions. Too many responsibilities and people counting on you.

“We knew what to expect. After what had transpired with your family, he had held secret meetings with our parents. We all grew up expecting the day we’d have to fight for you, for the Kingdom, alongside you.”

You nodded. “Did you ever… know me? Before this.”

Kai thought for a moment. “Yes. We took classes together at the Royal Academy. You might even say we were friends.”

This answer pleased you. The life you once had sounded like a fairy tale. You had a family and friends. You went to school. You wondered if you had a wardrobe full of dresses like the one you wore to Torpe Manor, too. “Friends?” you smiled.

He laughed, “Yes, Your Majesty. You were a little intimidating though. Very self-assured and fearless, I’d like to think not much has changed.”

“Really?” you asked, you cheeks heating. “I am sure that was only because I had a powerful father. Were we all good friends?”

Kai blushed and you arched a brow. “You could say that.” then he laughed, “let’s just say not much has changed there either. Yeonjun and Beomgyu are still the same mental age, Soobin always had his nose stuck in a book – I reckon the two of you were actually a little academically competitive – pretending he was more mature than the rest of us,” you snorted, and a smile blossomed onto Kai’s face, then he blushed again. “You and I were kind of inseperable. I mean, we all were, but you even told your father you’d marry me.”

Your face burned a shade of pink and you slammed your eyes shut, unwilling to look him in the eye. But then images of little boys filled your mind: rough-housing, bantering, adventuring together, getting icing sugar all over your mouths. A father, a mother, a brother. A loving family, in a big castle. You wondered if these were mere dreams or memories. You found yourself hoping for the latter.

“How much time do I have?” you asked.

Kai didn’t reply at first, as if he himself wanted to savour this time. Then he said, “Another four and ten days at best. Then Yiseok will get suspicious.”

Your eyes snapped open and you turned to him in shock. Two weeks? Two weeks? You had to be princess-avenging-her-kingdom ready in two weeks?

You opened your mouth to protest, but Kai’s proximity startled you. If you scooted over just a tiny bit more, your noses would touch. You could feel the moment his breath hitched, you could see his eyes dilate and flit to your lips – you hoped, no, prayed that he could not hear how fast your heart was beating. He reached over, his fingers hesitating before brushing hair from your face. You were now certain you were not breathing at all.

You couldn’t.

You pushed yourself up and turned away. “W-Why has Taehyun left then? If we have so little time? Surely a trip to Serafina throws a spanner in the works.”

When he did not answer, you glanced at him slightly. He was frowning at the place where you once lay. Your chest ached. He lifted himself up, brushing grass and dirt from his clothes.

“Taehyun had to go see his parents.”

You ignored the slight edge to his tone. “Why? I thought you said your parents knew you were here.”

Kai looked at you. “I never said anything about Taehyun’s parents.”

“Huh?” a perplexed expression overtook your features, an uneasy feeling building in your stomach. You wracked your brain, trying to recall everything Kai and the boys had told you. He hadn’t even mentioned Taehyun when he spoke of your past, you had just assumed Taehyun would be there. “No. no, that cannot be right. I am sure you said all your families are part of the resistance.”

“I did not.” Kai said bluntly. You flinched, and his eyes softened apologetically. Then his face contorted with guilt, like he said something he shouldn’t have. Your heartbeat picked up again, but for an entirely different reason. “Taehyun’s parents… they are part of the King’s closest circle.”

You shook your head, taking a step back. “All your families are part of the court, I do not understand.”

“(Y/n),” Kai said, sounding more firm this time. “Taehyun’s parents were part of Yiseok’s coup. They are his most loyal subjects. You might even say his father is the King’s second-in –”

“Stop.” you lifted your hand, some missing slots in your memory flickering to life. You gulped. “That is enough.”

“I am aware that this is not a conversation for me to have with you,” Kai said. You could not bring yourself to look at him and he sounded pained. “But you are going to need to come to terms with it sooner or later, (Y/n).” then he took a breath, “Taehyun is not going to be able to stick around after you take to the throne. After everything his parents have done… they will not spare him.”

He took another step toward you, slowly, as if he was afraid you would run for the hills. In all honesty, you wanted to. But, you were sure cowardice was no desirable quality of a Queen, so you did not. You only took a step back. “That is ridiculous. He is here, he is part of the resistance. He is doing what he can to help the Kingdom, why should they rebuke him?”

You still were not sure how you felt about Taehyun’s parents being the King’s closest friends, but that had nothing to do with him. You knew him. You knew he had not a single evil, selfish bone in his body. All of the boys were unlike any of the other nobles, but Taehyun… Taehyun, especially. He was different. You would not let anything happen to him. You forbid it.

“Even if you gave him some sort of pardon, he would not be safe. To be able to live a normal life. The court of public opinion is ruthless and ever-present.”

“Why are you giving the impression that you do not think he should be forgiven? For God’s sake, I do not believe he should be forgiven either, but only because I believe he did not do a thing necessary of it.” This conversation was making you angry. You did not know why. You knew Kai, you loved Kai. You knew he would never hurt his friend. You knew he was merely telling you the truth. But hot fury grew in the pit of your stomach.

He looked hurt. “That is not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Forgive me,” you sighed, your tense shoulders falling as your anger partially dissipated. You let yourself fall beside the stream again and hugged your arms. “It is just all so frustrating; that you all have to make all these sacrifices for me. And that I was oblivious to it this entire time. Deluding myself with a quiet life that was not special at all, with friends that were very special.” he sat beside you and pulled you into a warm embrace. You did not question why it could not compare to how Taehyun held you, and nuzzled into his chest. “Yeonjun had to drag the person he loved into this and put her at risk, I no longer question why Soobin hasn’t gone to school in the North, why Beomgyu cannot find the time to dabble in his music. Taehyun…” you croaked, warm tears slipping from your eyes.

He hushed, gently petting your hair. “None of us were unwilling to make the sacrifices we knew were necessary, (Y/n). Especially after meeting you again. We were lucky.”

“Well I suppose not everything that came out of it was bad. I was reunited with the dearest friends I never knew I had, and…” you hesitated, smiling up at him. It was genuine. “Although you may be unwilling right now, Lady Yujun is a wonderful match. Of course it should be you who has the pleasure of wedding her.”

He paused. Then he leaned back. “What?”

You chuckled, shoving his shoulder. “Oh come on, my friend. I am not daft. You are the one who has to wed her, are you not? You shall be very happy. It may have started as a ruse, but you will make a wonderful Prince consort, Kai.”

“(Y/n),” Kai said. He was frowning again. “It is a ruse. No one is truly marrying anyone. Alvar has agreed to peace without it, for your father. The marriage is only to disguise our true allegiance, that we are able to hide you here and meet with you like this. I…” he trailed off nervously. “I do not think we should talk about this now.”

You bristled. “No. No more secrets. What is it?”

He considered you for a long moment. Then his shoulders fell and he sighed, before tensing up again. “I am not marrying Yujun, because… before your family’s murder… before the coup… I was betrothed to you.”

***

Taehyun wore a grim look on his face, but when the coach pulled up to the cabin, his chest felt a little lighter. He wanted to see you. Just wanted to catch a glimpse of your face; it would be more than enough to convince him that all would be well. He was not ready to give you any answers yet, and after returning from Serafina his shoulders did not feel any lighter than before. He knew you were angry with him and he knew he shouldn’t, but he craved you. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your smell, your touch.

All he wanted was to take you into his arms and run far, far away from all this fuckery.

His boots hit the ground below with a heavy thump. He thanked the coach, and sent it off before walking toward the cabin. Jaegeun was on the porch, taking long drags of his cigar. Normally, he would be polite enough to at least grunt when Taehyun arrived. But the bastard would not even make eye contact.

“You look troubled.” Taehyun said, lowering himself into the wicker chair beside his older friend.

Jaegeun took a deep drag, held, then breathed out a thick cloud of smoke. “What say Serafina?”

Taehyun swatted the mist of death from his face and glared. This man was going to smoke himself to his grave. “They do not suspect anything. Not yet. Lord Yoon, that swine, has made some rumblings. But they do not take him seriously after the dud operation at his ball.”

“Of course not,” Jaegeun snorted, slapping his knee as his potbelly vibrated. “That man has been trying for years to get close to Yiseok. His greed knows no bounds, perhaps he believes they have a lot in common.”

“Those rumblings were enough to make my parents call me back and make me swear to keep an eye on Kai, though.” Taehyun sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “It is not much, but that has great potential to change. We have got to speed things up.”

The two were quiet. Jaegeun took another drag of his cigar before flattening it beneath his feet. The sun was beginning to descend behind the mountain, drowning everything in gold. The light reflected off the treetops, off its leaves, making them look like thousands of wings as the breeze brushed through them. Taehyun lifted his hand, trying to trace his fingers along the rays, wondering if they’d make him glitter too. If it’d burn away the tainted blood flowing through his veins, if it’d make him a new person. One strong and worthy enough to stand at your side.

“Where are you going after this?” Jaegeun asked suddenly.

Taehyun swallowed heavily before steeling himself. “Somewhere far. Maybe off the continent. I came across someone with a boat who trades in foreign lands. He has already made his leave, but he will return to Serafina’s port in a few months. Perhaps I shall go with him.”

Jaegeun’s eyes burned into the side of his face. “You think you’ll be able to?”

“I will have to.”

Another coach pulled to a stop before the cabin. Taehyun squinted, the setting sun still in his eyes. He saw Yeonjun, Beomgyu and Soobin hop out of the carriage with supplies in hand. He got up to see if they needed any help, but also mostly because he wanted to see if you were there. He was only slightly disappointed when you were not.

He helped them carry the sacks of goods into the cabin and took a peek into your room. Then frowned.

“Where’s (Y/n)?”

Yeonjun shrugged. “We left this morning. She had her lesson with Kai, and she will have her lesson with me later on.”

Something strange pulled at Taehyun’s gut. He marched to the supply closet and pulled open the hatch, that feeling propelling him down the stairs and down the hall. He burst through the training room door and found it empty. The space between his breaths were shortening, his heart clenching.

He raced back up to the cabin and ploughed through anything in his path. He slammed open the front door and pulled Jaegeun up by his shirt.

“If you do not have some semblance of a good reason that (Y/n) isn’t here right now, I am going to gut you and feed your entrails to the fucking mountain lions.” Taehyun growled, slamming Jaegeun, a big man, into the side of the cabin. If something happened to you… he would let the beasts take him away too.

“Easy,” Soobin’s hands clamped down onto Taehyun’s shoulders. Taehyun’s neck snapped in his direction with a snare, but Soobin did not waver. Eventually, Taehyun’s grip loosened. Soobin turned his focus to Jaegeun. “What happened?”

Like clockwork, the bushes behind the cabin rustled and you emerged from them. Taehyun’s heart fell to his ass with relief, and he ran to you, clutching your face in his hands. He tilted it from side to side, examining every inch.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Did anything happen?” he asked softly, thumbs slightly caressing your cheeks. You looked at him with startled eyes, your face flushed. Then you gulped and shook your head. Annoyance slipped into his voice, his arms folding across his chest, “then where the dickens have you been?”

Kai then emerged after you, looking equally flushed. His hair and clothes were tousled, his skin glistened with sweat and he seemed out of breath. He looked startled to see Taehyun too.

Like he had been caught.

Taehyun’s eyes moved between you and Kai. His hands dropped from his sides and clenched into fists. His chest began heaving, something between sadness and absolute rage wreaking havoc in his mind. He wasn’t sure what expression he was making, but you wore a mused frown before all colour drained from your face.

This was bound to happen. You had always wanted to be with Kai. In both this life and the last, he had been everything you had ever wanted. The two of you were inseparable, always gravitating toward one another as if destined. Before you learned the truth, you had sneaked glances at him when you thought no one was looking. You would sigh dreamily when you thought no one was listening. You thought you loved him and no one would ever know – but everyone did. Kai had always been yours, and Taehyun had only been foolish enough to hope, for even a second, that this time would be different.

You had thought that your life as you knew it came to an end over a month ago, you agonised over how painful and lonely it was – but you had merely lost the delusion that you were undeserving of so much more, that you were anything less than extraordinary.

But Taehyun knew you. Taehyun saw you. He… He had believed he could keep you even though he knew he did not deserve you.

Taehyun tore his gaze away from the two of you and nodded, taking a steadying breath. When he thought he could manage to look at you again, a smile was on his face. With every bit of energy he could muster, he knocked the side of your head gently.

“When running off on trysts with your betrothed, leave a note or something,” he laughed playfully, his heart breaking. “You scared us, princess. But now you are well, so I shall leave you to it. Your Majesty.”

You looked hurt and before you opened your mouth to speak, Taehyun turned on his heel and returned into the cabin. He did not need you to apologize to save him. He just wanted you safe and happy.

And now you were.

He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet and marched down to the training room.

taglist: @boba-beom (send an ask to be added!)

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Hoarding Behavior #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: dehumanization

Noct sat behind him, brushing his hair and purring. It was nice. He liked the gentle attention, and his hands were warm and careful.

“Pretty thing,” he murmured, “I should let your hair grow. I could braid it into patterns and weave gold into it.”

River wasn’t sure if he was actually speaking to him, but the compliment made his chest flutter. No one had ever talked about him like that before.

A claw-tipped finger traced over the skin of his shoulder. Master had dressed him in a silken off-the-shoulder shirt, in a beautiful ruby color. 

“Your freckles are like bronze,” he sighed. He tilted River’s head with a gentle hand. He studied River, staring into his eyes. A pleased smile graced Master’s face. 

“Precious emeralds set in bronze,” he said, “my little gem. So perfect.”

“Thank you, Master.” Noct’s tail swished with happiness. He hummed as he finished brushing his hair.

River knew he was just another object to Noct. And he was okay with it. After all, outside he was just another slave. There wasn’t much of a difference.

After, he watched Master polish the various silver items he had hoarded. Finally, a task he could do.

“Can I help?” Noct looked up from the vase. 

“You might get polish on your hands.”

“I can clean them later. Please, Master?” he pleaded. He was just so bored.

“I suppose you may.” 

River grabbed a silver cup and began to work it over. They sat together for a while, and River eyed how thorough and careful Master was. He was completely focused on the piece in his hands, almost lovingly polishing the vase. 

“Why are you so intrigued by polishing?” asked Master after a few minutes of silence.

“I-” would Noct punish him for complaining? “I need something to do. It’s hard to pass the time.”

“I see.” 

“I used to cook and clean the whole day away for my other masters,” explained River, “and here, you don’t need me to.”

Master hummed in acknowledgement. “I have many books you may enjoy. I will allow that.”

“I can’t read.”

“A pity.”

Master sighed. “I clean my own things. I cannot allow you to handle them without me.” Noct finished the vase, standing to put it in its proper place. 

“I’m really sorry about the statue,” said River, “I won’t break anything again. I’m more used to the chain, now.” Noct sat down again and picked up a candlestick. 

“It is not about the statue. I have already punished you, there is no use lingering on it. It is simple a fact of my nature. I maintain my own hoard, and that is all. Others may not.”

River thought it over. “But I’m doing it right now?”

“I am trying not to think about it,” Master said, tightly. River was pushing his luck. 

River set the polished cup aside, moving on to a platter. Master plucked the cup from the nest, eyeing it. It must be satisfactory, because he stood to put it away.

He thought about the bath. Noct still didn’t let him get clean on his own, insisting on washing his hair and body for him. Was that “maintenance” to Master?

“Am I part of your hoard?”

“Of course, my treasure. Have I not made it clear?” Noct shook his head, amused.

“Then… why do I count as ‘other’? Can’t I help?” Master huffed.

“It is hard to explain. I… suppose you may touch and move pieces of my hoard. Organize, perhaps.”

“Like the jewelry you keep meaning to display?” He thought of the rings that got caught in Master’s claws.

“Yes. Like that. A fine idea. Will that keep you busy for now?”

“I guess,” he shrugged. 

“Hm. What would help you?” asked Master, “You are mine, so I must know.”

“A clock,” he said immediately. “I never know what time it is in here.”

“Very well.”

“And… some puzzles?” Noct made a sound of curiosity.

“Um, like jigsaw puzzles. They come in a box with hundreds or thousands of pieces and you have to fit them together into a picture.”

“Interesting. Yes, I will get you puzzles. I may take up a collection. I enjoy art, but the curved walls make it difficult to hang paintings. These... puzzle pictures may be a satisfying compromise.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Noct reached out and patted his head affectionately. “You are so pretty and good for me, how could I say no?” 

___________________

The clock was just as gorgeous as the rest of Master’s furniture. A beautiful grandfather clock, it rang the hour and half hour with pretty bells and chimes. 

Master had acquired ring holders, earring displays, and glass cases. The cases were for his most opulent pieces, like his diamond encrusted necklaces and assortment of actual crowns and tiaras.

River decided he wouldn’t ask where those came from.

Master asked that he sort them by gem and then by metal, and River was glad to do it. It was satisfying in its own way, and the hum of appreciation and murmurs of ‘good boy’ made him blush.

He never got thanked for his work before. Master ruffled his hair when he passed by, and scooped up the finished cases to put them on dedicated shelves.

The gems glittered from across the room, bathing the entire section in tiny rainbows when the lantern light was right. It was so pretty.

And Master had been taking such good care of him. The same kind of loving affection he extended to all of his hoard.

Outside, he was just another slave. In here, he was Master’s precious gem. His treasure. River was his, and that meant something. 

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[littlesheeneffect]

She's My Husband (Part 13) ❤️

Miles Maitland x yn (AFAB Genderfluid)

Eight months later, life was as I'd dreamed of as a child yet never hoped was possible. Messy. Fun. Perfectly imperfect. It had been over a year since I had met Miles Maitland.

My wild dear Miles had said "to heck with spending any night away", and moved entirely in with me. It was so natural. Funny thing, one could wake in the middle of the night and wed both beggin some deep conversation, unabashed. Often times, we found ourselves finding newfound belief in divinity. Though in the truest senses, not abridged by religion and the grievances of humanity. But that of the laws of grace and love, the God who made us who we really were.

Every week day he'd spend about eight hours working at the 'scandal paper', as I called it.

My book was rewritten and published with Miles clandestine aid, at the printing press of his job. Fitting really, as the story was a romance mystery full of cheeky endeavoring. Not only did I get it to be sold in the little book shop, but it was their most popular sale of the year!

Little Alfie grew at a ridiculous rate. The house was no match for the young sheepdog- He'd run through the place when Miles would come home in the evening; romping and knocking things and portraits Miles had made of me off the walls, as he raced to greet our beloved. Alfie would bark twice when it was Miles and three times if it was a friend. Only very, very rarely did Alfie ever ever growl, and it was only when something was wrong.

Nina and Adam became engaged, and began planning the wedding with Miles and my advice, at a cozy dinner party at our home. Though, they said they wanted to wait till things died down a bit before having the ceremony, which from the looks of things, could be quite a long while.

Every week, Miles and I would venture to the hospital to visit Aggie. Though it didn't last for very long, we would sneak Alfie in too, which very much overjoyed our dearest friend. She never ceased to tell of how much she missed our parties and dinners.

In fact it was the day after a visit, that Miles came home a bit later than normal. Alfie knew when Miles had even neared the door and began barking and running to meet him.

I rushed behind and was met by an overjoyed and quite enchanting Miles. He looked up from petting Alfie, his twinkling eyes catching on me as a smitten smile fell off his lips.

"Y/n," he smiled beathily, and I quickly kissed his soft lips. Our breath caught every time, even though we kissed eachother every day then. Just as we became entangled in one another's gaze, and he smoothed back a strand of my hair, his eyes lit up and he bobbed with enthusiasm.

"I have something for you!" He exclaimed before beginning to rummage through a large paper bag, "Now, it took me a little bit, but I ran into a fellow. Rather boring fellow, quite gothic..... But- here it is!"

Suddenly he pulled out two bronze candlestick holders, and two lavender candles.

"My goodness!" I breathed, they were beautiful. I fingered them as he set them on a tiny entry stand. "They are, what are they fo-" My voice faultered as my mind identified them, and I turned to a nodding Miles.

"They're Shabbat candlesticks," he confirmed. "I thought we could, well," he smiled, "We can learn how to do it again, together." I blushed in joy and embarrassed overwhelment.

A slight shy and excited chuckle escaped me as I told, " I haven't done it since I was a girl. The lighting and dinner, the prayers. Where do I even start!"

Miles' hand on the palm of my back and the heave of his chest on the side of my arm sent butterflies through me, as he whispered, "We'll learn it together. I want you to be happy with who you are, my love.... I can't wait to see you light them." I blushed once more before turning and estatically wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I can finally get the chance to wear my blue dressy suit again, Father" he winked referring to the dinner party all those months ago at the Hall. Sending us both in a pile of laughs.

....To Be Continued...

[periodoakantiques]

Find the great selection of 16th/17th/18th century candlesticks, antique metalware, brass alms dish, cast iron mortar, antique brass candelabra, bronze cauldron, capstan candlestick, pewter flagon, antique brass candlesticks and many more bronze antiques.

[blueiscoool]

Tiffany Studios "Apple Blossom" Table Lamp

With a jeweled “Candlestick” base. Leaded glass, favrile glass, patinated bronze. Base impressed TIFFANY STUDIOS/NEW YORK/436A. Circa 1905-1910.

[everlythequestionabletomboy]

UPDATE LOG 4.2.3 MASTERLIST

Beyond this is the things they added to the 4.2.3 upd of DoL

Please send me an ask if you want me to add something or I missed one

Images/stories I still need

SPRITES

PC SPRITE

Bodytypes

Masc., Fem., and Andro.

Chest/breast sprites

Made the breasts have better visibility

Flattest chest size looks flatter on combat sprite

Added breast sprites to lace nightgown, virgin killer, ball gown, evening gown, open shoulder sweater, pink nurse, plastic nurse, skimpy lolita outfits, open shoulder crop top

TATTOOS

Tattoo Parlour

Any unlocked bodywriting can be turned into a tattoo, even if it's not on the PC

Island

New Triangle, Square, and Circle tattoos [look at the Island page for more info]

HAIR

New

All down

Fishtail braid (left, right, twins)

Half-up

Ribbon tail sides

Low tail

Thick ponytail

Reworked

None

FRINGE

New

Short air vents

Side pinned

Dreadlocks bun

Emo/Emo Left/Emo Right

Reworked

Ruffled

CLOTHES

Outfits

Traditional Maid Dress

Victorian Maid Dress

Shrine Maiden Robes

Virgin Killer Dress

Halter Sundress

Leather Dress

Upper

Cat hoodie

Ao dai Top

School cardigan

School blouse

Polo shirt

Color block crop top

Band t-shirt

Boxy t-shirt

Remade Serafuku

Classic Serafuku

Gakuran

Lower

Ao dai trousers

Plaid school skirt

Plaid school trousers

Plaid school shorts

School pinafore

Plaid school pinafore

Wide leg trousers

Straight leg trousers

Yoga pants

Jean miniskirt

Dolphin shorts

Under outfits

Turtleneck Leotard

Under upper

None 😔

Under lower

Tie Side Bikini Bottoms

Highwaisted microkini bottoms

Legs

Sheer Leggings

Stripped kneesocks

Patterned dress socks

Polka dot socks

Sports socks

Rib-knit socks

Rib-knit ankle socks

Feet

Canvas Loafers

ACCESSORIES

Hats

Hairpins (butterfly + star)

Conical hat

Raccoon cap

Fur cap

Bat beanie

Mini pumpkin

Face

Gas Mask

Doggy Muzzle

Eyepatch

Medical Eyepatch

Monocle

Neck

Love Locket

Fur boa

Hands

Work gloves

ICONS ADDED

Locations

Temple garden, moor, farmlands, temp office, altar, secret path, the churchyard, the dilapidated shop, Eden's cabin, brothel stage [pt1]

Garden plots, stream, gloryhole, park fountain, asylum, sea rocks, waterfall, thicket, Great Hawk's nest, and perch [pt 2]

Rainwater pool, Eden's bed, lake campsite, fishing rock, archaeological field office, Remy's Estate, Great Hawk's tower, Ruins,

Animals

Black Dog

Actions

Riding a horse, question mark for inquires, searching for pots in lake, excersizing/hobbling in heels, gliding, entering town, searching for a mark, praying, and renting a stall [pt 1]

Getting in/out/refusing rides, trick or treating, sitting on the school stump, diving, descending/ascending in water, leaving water, and fixing Eden's cabin [pt 2]

Digging, showering, practise shooting, undo bindings, daydreaming, tilling, watching TV, chatting, singing, and plundering [pt 3]

Making tops/bottoms out of seaweed, meditating, relaxing

Events

Trial of purity

Clothes

Patient gown

Items

Milk, breast milk, chicken eggs, truffles, temple pew, dog treat, bronze key, library desk, soap [pt1]

Lichen, cosmetics, small/medium/large/huge exotic/huge decor fish tanks, auto feeder, tank decor, and sewer safe [pt 2]

Antique watch, grass, antique crystal, scrap, stimulants, torch, fertiliser, antique candlestick, rubble, and mud [pt 3]

Spiderwebs [pt 4]

Objects

Salves, sink, computer, rug, broom, dustpan, gift boxes, wolf chew toy, padlock [pt 1]

Cash register, Eden's valentine's day gift, Eden's coatstand, condom vending machine [pt 2]

Tending

Milk

Breast milk

Chicken eggs

Truffles

Ghostshrooms

"Take all"

Shop

Fetish collar icon is updated

LOCATION ART

Pirate ship

Island

Old Church

Sepulchre

Dilapidated Shop

Meadow

GAME MECHANICS

WORLD MECHANICS

Settings

"Split by Gender Apperance" changed to "Set/Ignore Sexual Orientation

Crime

Split into 10 categories; Assault, Coercion, Destruction of Property, Indecent Exposure, Obstruction of Justice, Prostitution, Resisting Arrest, Thievery, Petty Thievery, and Trespassing.

Crimes the PC has commited would be read out before punishment

Can adjust each crime in the cheat menu

Can view the crime stats in the stat menu

PARASITES

Ear Slime

Added an event that prevents PC to wear under lower garments, unless given directly to them

Sleeping event at Alex's farm

Sleeping event if you study at school naked

Alternate abduction event at the dog pound

At Remy's Farm, it would attempt to force you on all fours and eat grass

May force you to have sex with dolphins

Ear slime tasks are now in the Journal menu

Clit Parasite

Alternative masturbation options if PC has a clit parasite

MASTURBATION

Skip Button

Added a skip button that brings you to the next orgasm

PREGNANCY

Alex the Farmer

Avaliable pregnancy candidate [+more]

Crossdressing Fame

Can lower fame more if seen as a female are pregnant

Paternity Test

Option to do it at the Hospital

SHOPS

Hide Option

Can now choose to hide unavailable items in the shop

FEATS

New

Gilded Spear

Lost World

Face of a Guardian

Wild Monarch

Naturalised

Prehistoric Landscape

SOFT BAD ENDNG

The Island

How to enter, how to escape [+more]

UI

Stats

Sensitivity values can be viewed in the "Extra Stats" tab under "Characteristics"

Options

Confirmation dialouge appears when you try to exit/refresh the page [is on by default in ironman mode]. Can toggle it in the Advanced tab

CHEAT MENU

Clothes

Destroy, repair, dry, and drench clothes at once is added

Visuals

Breast and Cum Values have been replaced with sliders

Pregnancy

More additional options for pregnancy cheats

Teleport

Farmland tp is added

ENCOUNTERS

Double Penetration

Unique cum images is added

Anal

Improved xray sprites

Lower Underwear

Able to pull it to the side during encounters

EVENTS

Hitchiking

"Driving Lesson"

Pillory

Rimming and Watersports outcomes

Whipping and buttplug outcomes

Blackjack

Rimming outcomes

Spa

Rimming outcomes

Car Sex

NPCs will ask if PC needs to be dropped off anywhere after

Chalet

Prostitution opt. added

WARDOBE

Wardrobe Outfit Editor

Added a random color option

Filters

Warmth filter is added

LOCATIONS

ORPHANAGE

Whitney can upgrade the Loft

SCHOOL

Mason

Repeatable scene where he unlocks the chastity belt Winter put on you

Untying your bonds before swim class generates slightly random dialouge

Changing Rooms

PCs thoughts of being in the wrong changing room are more diverse, changes based on Crossdressing Rep

PC is no longer rejected immediately when looking like the opposite gender and is given weird stares and comments

Crossdressing Fame/Rep

Chance to lower crossdressing fame after not

THE POUND

Dog Happiness

Added a description of the dogs happiness on the main screen

NPCS/ANIMALS

WOLVES

Wolf Pack

PC is more comfortable naked around the wolves in the wolf pack

Wolf Cave

You can submit to wolves that advance towards you in the cave

BAILEY

Punishment(?)

Will now deliver PC to the tutorial person if PC stays at the orphanage for the first whole week

ZEPHYR THE PIRATE

Named NPC that is found during the Disguised Escape option

ITEMS

SEX TOYS

Fleshy color option is added to sex toys and strap ons

Fleshy color sidebar renderer is added [no idea what that means]

PLANTS

Flowers/Seeds

Plumeria, tendable [view the Island page for more info]

EXTRAS/MISC

ABILITIES

Clothes

Can tie cardigan around waist

Able to lower suspenders

[intothewestwing]

ch 4- If I Can't Love Her

After exiting the dungeons, Beast and Belle found the man of wax waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. With Lumiere following in tow, The Beast led the eternal guest through the winding halls of the castle. With almost no light to guide their way, it was easy to get lost in a place like this. The decor was dated, but Belle recognized it as a baroque style, with gothic inspiration. She'd read about this type of architecture before, but had never seen it in person. The castle was unlike anything she'd ever seen. And though it was dated, everything still seemed maintained somehow. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found.

Who was in charge of the upkeep? She thought. It certainly wasn't the monster before her. And the candlestick Person? Behind them didn't seem to have hands...

Though Belle admired the haunting beauty of the castle, she felt as if she was being watched. Even the smallest sconces lining the walls had faces carved into them. It was almost unsettling.

What was most definitely unsettling, though, was the hall of armor, where as she walked, the heads of the statuesque knights seemed to turn and follow her. No, not seemed. They were definitely watching her.

When The Beast spoke, she jumped. His husk voice nearly matched the decorum that surrounded them, she thought. Luckily, the person of wax was close enough to catch her in case she tripped. She felt almost comforted by the soft touch of bronze that supported her back. At least they didn't have claws...

"I- Uh..." The Beast stammered as he realized he'd frightened her. Again. "The Castle is your home now, so you're free to wander where you'd like. The kitchens, the ballrooms, the study, even the gardens." He found himself listing the places he knew off the top of his head, though he realized his memory of the palace wasn't quite what it used to be. It'd been so long since he'd really left his quarters...

"Everywhere except the West Wing."

Belle wasn't fully paying attention to his words, but more of the occasional lisp that formed when the creature spoke.

"Why?" She asked casually. "What's in the West Wing?"

"It is none of your concern." The Beast's voice was stern and defensive.

"Is it dangerous?" Belle had noticed the occasional cracks in the walls, as if the very foundation of the place was struggling. Every speck of dust was swept away, but there was no hiding that.

"No, but-"

"Then why is it-" She knew better than to have pushed him to tell her why, but Belle was just as stubborn as he was. And as far as she knew, he didn't have a good answer as to why.

The Beast turned and faced her, looming over her small frame.

"It is forbidden. You are never to set foot there. Do you understand?"

Her voice caught in her throat. He was definitely getting defensive. And just like an animal, defense meant violence.

"Do you understand?" He stepped closer to her, so they were only mere inches from each other. Only inches from ripping her apart, she thought.

"Yes!" She cried before he could lay a hand on her.

The Beast looked up to meet the disapproving gaze of the waxed figure behind her. Lumiere was shaking his head, reminding him that he was supposed to woo her- not scare her into submission.

With an annoyed huff, The Beast spun back around and led his new guest up the stairs, into the East wing. Luckily, Lumiere had spread the word of the girl, and the entire east wing was spruced up just for her. It had been the Queen's wing when the prince was merely a boy, and was completely untouched. Until today.

Somber memories of his mother danced around the group as they entered this part of the castle. What seemed to be men, women, and children built of wax lined the halls, their candles all lit. It seemed Lumiere pulled out all the stops when it came to preparing this wing for her, Beast thought. It looked completely different from the rest of the gloomy castle.

Once the group arrived at the Queen's suite, The Beast hesitated before opening the door for his guest. Much to his surprise, the double doors opened on their own, revealing a bedroom glittering in gold details and the finest furnishings on this side of the globe.

The sight was all too familiar.

"This," He stuttered once more. "This is your suite. If you need anything, anything at all, my servants with attend to you. All you need to do is ask."

Belle couldn't believe her eyes. All of this hidden beauty and wealth, just sitting stagnant in the woods outside her village... It took her breath away. She stepped into the room (though she could hardly call it a bedroom- it was the size of her father's cottage) and ogled at the furnishings. The fireplace. The wardrobe. The bed... The bed. It was twice, no, three times the size of hers at home.

She'd read a story before, about two poor friends who were offered a mansion of their own. The girls were given all the food they could eat, elegant clothes, enough for them to never worry about money again. But in the end, it was a trap, set by an evil sorceress.

That is what Belle felt now.

It was all so beautiful, but she wasn't here of her own choice. She was a prisoner in a beautiful, golden cage. Her eyes filled with tears as she kept her back to her captor, who menacingly filled the doorframe. How long before she was his servant? His meal? Were the candle people his prisoners too? How long before her skin became wax as well?

The Beast watched as she admired the suite. She stuck out from it all. Not because of her simple clothing or her disheveled hair, but something else. He couldn't quite understand what is was though, nor would he have time to figure it out, before a nagging voice whispered to him.

"Dinner," It said. "Invite the girl to dinner." Lumiere nudged his master from below, suggestively motioning toward their new guest.

Beast cleared his throat. "One more thing. Each night, you will join me for dinner."

This demand was enough to enrage Belle. Finally, an excuse to let out her frustrations. All her fears of what he'd do to her as his prisoner were gone. He'd taken everything from her in a matter of seconds. What more could he do to torment her?

"Dinner?" She scoffed as she faced him. "You've taken me as your prisoner and you want to have dinner with me?"

The Beast was not expecting a response.

"What if I refuse?" She challenged him. "Hm?"

The thought of him mauling her was more pleasant than dining with him. The sheer audacity for him to ask this of her, on top of everything, made her laugh.

But this mocking laughter only angered him more. How was he supposed to fall in love with her? Or worse, her fall in love with him?

She saw him as an animal, a monster. That was clear. So perhaps he needed to play the part. On all fours, he leapt toward her and stopped directly in front of her, his fangs mere inches away from her face.

"You will join me for dinner." He snarled in a hushed voice. "That is not a request!"

She had no rebuttal for him. No argument. No challenging one-liners. She was clearly out of her depth, and though she'd volunteered to stay, she wished more than anything that she was back home. Safe. Actually, she'd prefer the forest wolves. At least they'd kill her quick instead of dining with her first.

Frozen in fear, she had no choice but to meet his icy gaze. Once he was satisfied with her silence, The Beast raised back onto his feet and left the room, slamming the double doors behind him. He left his servants behind as he made his way toward the West Wing. Just as the East was a different atmosphere, the West was as well- though in a much more horrific way. The tapestries that lined the hallways were shredded and torn, the paintings ripped apart, the mirrors smashed. The typical few side table and plinths that once held vases and busts of previous kings were smashed to pieces, their faces and wooden limbs broken and scattered onto the cold floor.

As The Beast entered his suite, the furnishings here were in a similar state. As the furnishings in the East seemed alive, the ones here were no more. They unfortunately had fallen victim to the Beast's anger in the early days of his curse. And, of course, looming over everything was the painted portrait of his past self. Claw marks stretched over the painting, leaving nothing but a mangled face in their wake.

The only light that illuminated in the shadows of the West Wing was the ominous light of the enchanted rose, hidden under a bell jar. This is where The Beast spent his mornings, his days, and his nights. And this is where he would remain on this very evening, he'd decided. That rose, the symbol of his deterioration, the object that took his life from him... How ironic it was that the most beautiful thing in this room, was the thing slowly killing him. With every fallen petal came a world of pain, and a small part of the once-prince died. Luckily, he had some time before another one would fall.

His eyes fell to the mirror, another "gift" of his curse. With this enchanted mirror, he could see anything he desired. Whether that was memories from his past, or a peek into the village. He could even see what his life would've been like if he hadn't been cursed. That was the cruelest vision of all. He was able to see exactly how he would have aged. And just how much he would've looked like his father...

Instead, The Beast picked up the mirror, and shut his eyes before he could see his current reflection. "Show me the girl."

The mirror obeyed, and illuminated with an image of Belle. She sat on the bed, and was cleaning the blood from her leg. Even through the mirror, he could hear the shrill voice of the wardrobe behind her, consoling her and offering rags to wrap her wound with.

They'd only met for a few moments before he'd hurt her. How awful was that? Finally, a chance to break free from the curse, and he'd blown it. And he'd be stuck with her. Forever. He could let her go free, but that would just be embarrassing. Emasculating. To make such a fuss only to let her go in the end? The Beast watched and admired the beauty of his prisoner, before he felt a cold chill run down his spine.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" The voice of The Enchantress echoed from behind him. He could hear the sly smile in her voice as she taunted him.

The Enchantress, Feya, often made her visits after a petal has fallen. In her words, she enjoyed "tracking his progress" on breaking her spell. But from his perspective, he believed she enjoyed his suffering.

"Feya..." He sighed, already annoyed by her presence. She stepped around him and held her finger under his chin, taunting him to look up at her.

"What, my beast? Do you not enjoy the gift I brought you?" Her voice was filled with glee. "That poor old man, he would have perished out in the cold. What a blessing it was he found your silly castle." She stroked the hair on his face before snatching the mirror from his claws and walking with it.

Of course. She'd led them here.

"And how convenient. His only daughter? Sacrificing herself to rescue him?"

"Stop it." Beast held his head in his hands.

"What, Beastie? No 'thank you'?" She cackled. "I did you a favor!" Feya slammed down the mirror in front of him. "She's even your type! Small, beautiful, and foolish enough to agree to an eternity with you!"

"Feya, please stop this." The Beast's voice was shaky as he plead with her. Finding the strength to make eye contact, he begged once more. "Please..."

The Enchantress tilted her head and stroked his misshapen face. "You should have married me when you had the chance." Though they were simple, her words were bitter and cold.

"Beg."

"Feya-"

"Beg for my forgiveness, Beast."

With the flick of her wrist, her magic grabbed Beast by his throat and suspended him in the air. Her taunting grin twisted into a vengeful frown of disapproval. As he struggled to breathe, she continued to demand he beg for mercy, to which he complied.

"Forgive...me..."

She motioned once more, and her magic dropped his limp body onto the floor, with a loud thud echoing as he landed. He gasped for air, and fell into a coughing fit. The Enchantress knelt down and lifted his sorry chin once more.

"That's more like it." She grinned.

"I'll see you in two weeks."

[crush-zombie-drawan-sfw]

ITEMS PART TWO

This table has cardboard in it, but it's panelled with popsicle stick wood and the legs are pine, attached with hot glue lol 👍 Surprisingly solid.

This might be the table it's vaguely based on...? I'm not sure, but there was a chair on another table:

So I decided to make it for Ashley to sit on. I don't have any in progress pics but of note is how fun it is to do fake weathering

Sittin!!! Weirdly! Because his shorts make it impossible for him to sit normally loll

There are no books in the workshops so I took it upon myself to make them by creative license as filler. They're not complicated, just strips of card stock with a buncha folded up sketchbook paper hotglued inside. The covers are just painted and then weathered. They've got little bookmarks glued in there for flavor and one of them's got some embroidery floss keeping it closed. The one that ended up on the table I took a lighter to a little to make it seem like it got burnt while someone was doing some work.

Then there was this thing:

What is this thing? A container of unfinished arrows? Why is it so big? Anyway, cardboard panelled with popsicle stick wood and lined with card stock, painted, and the arrow shafts themselves are painfully whittled pine with card stock feathers.

The only other things on the table are a prefab candlestick (from Michaels lol, HALLOWE'EN SALE!!!!!!), and then ingots I made from Milliput epoxy putty (2 silver, one bronze and one... hagane?). Oh, and a random brick?

Next will be ITEMS PART THREE

[sprnklersplashes]

screamin but daddy I love her (ao3)

buy me a coffee

fanfic fundraiser

This isn’t the first time Martha has been on Heather’s doorstep. To the contrary, the first time was when they were high school seniors, and Martha must have been here hundreds of times between then and now. She knows this porch like she knows Heather’s bedroom, but tonight standing in her new dress and adjusting the maroon bow in her hair, she feels just like she did at seventeen. Breathless, anxious, ready to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

Although, the sight of her girlfriend opening the door does help a little. 

“Hey,” she whispers. Heather steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind her, exuding effortless class in her pale yellow blouse and black skirt. The light catches on her glossy lips, and Martha wants nothing more than to pull her in and kiss her. But her parents are inside her and neighbours might be passing by, so she has to settle for squeezing her hand as if they’re just two good friends saying hi on Thanksgiving. 

Just a few more hours she tells herself. If it goes according to plan, she can kiss Heather on this porch at the end of the night. 

“Hey baby,” she says softly. “How are you feeling about tonight.”

“Good.” Heather nods once, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Good. My dad’s in a really good mood, which helps. He had a massive boom in sales right before Thanksgiving.”

“Well, it is the most romantic time of the year,” Martha chuckles.

“Yeah. Yeah. Totally,” Heather breathes. “And he had a good time with his buddies and he has already opened up the brandy.”

“Okay. Cool. How about your mom?”

“She’s good too. Popped some Tylenol this morning, she went to yoga, oh and I let her take me to the mall this morning and told her a little white lie about how the guy at the coffee shop thought we were sisters just before we got home.”

“Wow,” Martha murmurs. “You are good.” Heather giggles, her face lighting up at the compliment, but there’s hesitancy in it, like she’s tiptoeing right on the edge of a cliff. Despite their being ‘in the open’ as it were, Martha slides her hand round Heather’s neck and cups her head, as if she’s about to pull her lips to hers.

Instead, she looks into her eyes and lowers her voice so only she can hear.

“You don’t have to do this now,” she says. “If it’s not the right time. We can wait.” I can wait, she adds silently. Much as the hiding and the half-truths drain the life out of her, all Heather needs to do is bat those eyes and Marth knows she’d wait decades. 

“No. No, I want to.” Heather closes her eyes, shakes her head as a small puff of breath escapes her. “It’s… I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of my parents asking me if I’ve met any nice boys in college. And I’m tired of… not getting to talk about you.” A pink blush creeps across Heather’s face, matching the one Martha feels in her chest. She rubs circles against her scalp as Heather moves a half-step closer. “I can take a lot. But I can’t take not being with you.” 

“Oh,” Martha breathes. Warmth creeps across her cheeks, glowing in a baby pink blush. Instinct tells her to duck her head, slip into the shadows where it’s comfortable, but she won’t. And while she can’t do what she really wants and kiss Heather until she’s breathless, she can take her hand and link their fingers together, and it’s enough. For now, it’s enough. “You’re sweet.”

“Yeah,” Heather sighs. She straightens up, the same way she used to in high school right before starting a cheer routine. “Don’t let go of my hand til we’re inside.” Martha smiles and squeezes her hand. Heather’s hand shakes, either from the cold or something else. 

It doesn’t matter. Martha can keep her warm.

As predicted, the house is classily decked out for the holidays. The girls enter to gold and brown leaves wrapped around the bannister, towering candles flickering held in bronze candlesticks. Martha tries her best not to gape as Heather leads her along the carpeted hallway into the living room. Mr Macnamara lounges in one of the plush armchairs, broadsheet newspaper folded over his lap and a crystal glass of brandy glittering in the other.

Heather has to clear her throat twice before he looks up.

“Oh. Heather. And….” He looks Martha up and down, face creasing just slightly. Heather stiffens beside her, and Martha squeezes her hand to remind her to breathe.

“Martha,” she says.

“Martha, of course.” He folds up his paper and does them the courtesy of getting up from his chair. Martha forces herself to smile as he walks towards them. When he extends his hand, Martha takes it, 

“Wonderful that you could make it for Thanksgiving. Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh!” Martha squeaks. Her heart pick up, racing like a butterfly’s wings. She did preapre for this question, she did, but now her neatly ordered thoughts are bleeding together and she can barely make her mouth move. She manages to say, “Whatever Heather’s having” without too much trouble, and she lets Heather lead her to the couch as her dad pours them both a red wine.

She hates red wine.

Heather sends her a quick apologetic look, and Martha whispers ‘it’s okay’ as her dad sits back down. Tonight is about her in any case. It might end up being about stopping her from getting too drunk and blurting it out before the turkey gets carved.

“So. Martha. You’re still in Sherwood aren’t you?”

“Dad!” Heather groans. Mr Macnamara frowns at the outburst, his gaze enough to send a chill down Martha’s spine. Her hand twitches, aching to take hold of Heather’s, and she wraps it around her glass as well.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Heather,” he scolds. “I can’t possibly be expected to keep track of all your friends’ exploits can I?”

“It’s okay,” Martha interjects. “I’m at Ohio State.”

“Ah. Certainly a fine school, no doubt. Your major?”

“Early childcare.”

“And a fine major to have,” he says, a bit more warmth this time around. Although he does follow it up with, “Good to see a young girl like you follow her natural path,” and Heather chokes on her wine. Her dad glares at her, a split second that burns into Martha’s mind. 

She is not and has never been a violent person, but she would be lying if she said throwing her drink in his face wouldn’t give her immense pleasure. Nor would it be the first time she thought of such a thing.

“And tell me Martha,” he asks. “Have you had a chance to find a man out there yet?”

“My studies tend to keep me busy,” she replies smoothly. Tomorrow, she and Veronica will laugh themselves sick over this moment.

“Dedication. I like that in a girl. And surely you’ll have plenty of time to find a man.” Martha nods while Mr Macnamara sighs dejectedly, swirling his drink around his glass. “If only some of that dedication would rub off on Heather.”

Next to her, Heather flinches as if a gun had gone off. When her dad goes off to refill his drink, she slides her hand across the couch and strokes the back of Heather’s hand. She watches as she takes another hasty drink, three deep breaths to keep her from breaking down. It’s always a little bit scary, wacthing Heather slip the mask back on in real time. When she smiles demurely at her dad, it’s downright terrifying. 

“Heather didn’t tell you did she?” he goes on. “About what happened at college? The whole waitlist business?”

“She did actually,” Martha replies. Mr Macnamara blinks, a deer caught in headlights, and Martha tries not to look too triumphant. She doesn’t mention that Heather told her before she told her parents, the night of crying in Martha’s room, the rejections from Ivy Leagues and the whispered confession that she was glad. Despite how scared she was at the time, she didn’t have to force herself to an Ivy League that would’ve made her miserable.

“Anway, you seem to be doing okay right now,” Martha adds, looking over at Heather. She allows herself the tiniest smile, a faint rose blush across her face. “And University of Michigan is a great school.”

Mr Macnamara nods, and his mouth opens to say something else. Thankfully, at that exact moment, Heather’s mom appears in the doorway and tells them dinner is ready. Heather’s relief is palpabale as her dad leaves, her body almost doubling over as the tension leaves her. They wait for a few minutes in the living room, her parents’ footsteps getting quieter.

“Well…” Heather begins. “This could be going worse. Right?” Heather lifts her head and looks at her, a pout on her pink lips. Martha pushes her hair away from her face, takes the moment to stroke her cheek with her thumb.

“Absolutely. Your mom even remembered my name this time around.” She squeezes Heather’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger. “Progress.”

Heather, face adorably smushed between her fingers, manages to smile. Even if it’s followed by a worried glance at the doorway.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Progress.”

Dinner begins fairly okay. They get through the starter without much hassle, Martha answering questions about college and her career plans and making chitchat about the engagement ring business and nodding appropriately at Mrs Macnamara’s bridge club stories. She compliments Mrs Macnamara’s cooking and laughs at Mr Macnamara’s jokes and slips in praises about Heather and so far, it seems to be going okay.

She doesn’t expect it to last. If there is one thing she’s good at, it’s bracing herself for things going south. But she’s also learned to enjoy herself along the way.

As the main course is brought out, Heather’s dad once again turns the conversation to boys.

“Whatever happened to that Ram boy you used to run around with in high school?” he asks. “I keep running into his father in town. Lovely family, that boy has.”

“Uh, I’m not sure where he is now,” Heather says deliately. “Last I heard he went out west somewhere.”

Last Martha heard, some girl on campus was charging him for assault. She takes another spoonful of mashed potatoes and decides not to comment.

“And you never kept in contact with him?” her mom asks. Heather just shakes her head. Mrs Macnamara clicks her tongue and takes another drink. “Shame. You two always looked so nice together.”

“I was just talking to his father about that. A shame you two fell out over such a boyish mistake.”

“Boyish mistake,” Heather echoes. Her voice is hollow, her eyes distant. Martha doesn’t need to guess where her mind is right now. She only heard about that night, first from Veronica and then from Heather herself. She saw the faded bruises, heard the whispers in the hallway. It was enough to make her want to throw Ram off the local bridge. “He assaulted me, Dad.”

Mr Macnamara waves his hand dismissively, shoves another piece of turkey in his mouth.

“I’m sure it was just a game taken too far,” he says. “You always were a bit too sensitive, Heather.”

Heather drops her fork. Her skin has gone white. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“The food really is lovely, Mrs Macnamara.” Martha nudges Heather beneath the table. She glances at her out of the corner of her eye and she gives a quick, tight nod.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” she coos. “Although, the credit really should go to Margaret. It’s such a rarity to get good help these days, isn’t it?”

Martha can just nod and hope her cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. She tugs at the hem of her dress, painfully aware of how cheap it must look in comparison to everything else. The tablecloth is probably worth more than her dress. 

“How is your family celebrating Thanksgiving this year, Martha?” Mr Macnamara asks. “I hate to think you left them alone this year.”

“Oh no,” she says. “My mom’s working today, so we’re celebrating tomorrow.”

“Working?” he asks, not bothering to hide the disgust on his face. Martha bites her tongue, pulls back the anger rising within her. He said ‘working’ like it’s some deadly disease, one you would never mention in polite company. “She’s working on Thanksgiving?”

“Martha’s mom is a nurse, actually.” Heather speaks before Martha can, the power in her voice pushing back against her father like a tiny yellow hurricane. The pressure in Martha’s chest eases.

Thank you she mouths. Heather smiles. 

“I see,” Mr Macnamara says. “And your father?”

Hidden beneath the table, Martha’s hands curl into fists. Her nails poke through her tights and drag across her skin.

“I don’t see him much, sir.” At all is more truthful answer. 

“Well,” he sighs. “That is indeed a pity. It seems that these days the traditional family is hard to come by. Still, I applaud your mother for working. Medical professionals are the backbone of our society afterall. And of course, hard work is the most important thing in life. Next to family, of course.”

“Because you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Heather mutters. 

“What was that Heather?”

“Mom, pass the gravy please?” Across the table, Mr Macnamara narrows his eyes as Heather innocently pours gravy over her food, certain an insubordination happened but unsure what or how. Slowly, he goes back to his food, but not before taking a long drink.

“How’s Victoria doing these days?” Mrs Macnamara asks.

“You mean Veronica?” Heather asks. When her mom nods, Heather continues, “She’s good. We’re hanging out tomorrow actually. The four of us.”

“Four?”

“Veronica’s bringing JD. Her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” her dad echoes. Heather nods. “And how long have they been together?”

“A year.” 

Martha inhales deeply. The room sways like a boat about to capsize. Mr Macnamara’s gaze darkens, his fingers tighten around his glass.

“And she’s the one out in Duke isn’t she?” Heather nods. Her breath comes in swift puffs, although her parents remain oblivious. Her dad just nods slowly. “Long term relationship and an Ivy League school. Amazing things for a young woman to achieve.”

He doesn’t look away from Heather as he says it. His eye bore into her like knives, slicing right down to her bones. Heather is unflinching, even when the tears fill her eyes. Mrs Macnamara refills her glass and offers some to Heather.

Martha wonders if anyone else is finding it hard to breathe. Her instincts tell her to flee, but her love for Heather has her rooted to her chair. Carefully, as if the girl is made of glass, Martha brushes Heather’s knuckles with her fingertips. Stay or go, it’s entirely up to her.

Contrary to Martha’s expectations, Heather bursts out laughing. It starts of low, a rumble of thunder, then gets higher and higher, and Heather’s cheeks are scarlet, and she bangs her fist on the table so hard the cutlery rattles.

“Heather, sweetie, I think we’ll switch you to water now.”

“No. No it’s fine.” Heather then stands, slowly, palms flat against the table. “I thought if I made everything perfect tonight this would be easier. But you two are never going to make this easy. So I might as well say it.”

Martha jumps to her feet. In full view of both her parents, Heather takes Martha’s hand, anchoring herself to the room. Her chest might be rising and falling rapdily, her heart doing somersaults in her ribs, but they stand steady.

“Mom, Daddy, Martha’s my girlfriend,” she announces. “Surprise. I’m a lesbian. We’ve been together since high school. And I wanted to make tonight nice to tell you, but that didn’t work out. So here we are.”

Mrs Macnamara’s mouth falls open slowly, like someone is a winding a key in her. The colour has drained entirely from her face. The fork falls from her hand and clatters against the plate, the noise ricocheting like a bullet was fired.

Minutes pass by in suffocating silence. Then, Mr Macnamara answers with a simple, concise, “No”.

“I’m afraid you can’t lawsuit your way out of this, Daddy.”

“No,” he says again. He looks down at their joined hands as if they presented him with a dead animal and shakes his head. “No!”

“Dad-”

“Heather, sweetie,” her mom interrupts. “I know you and Martha are very, very good friends. But this…” She waves her hand almost maniacly. “This isn’t… you’re not… that.”

“Mother, I can assure you we are.”

“No, Heather, you are just confused!” her mom insists. The words prick at Martha’s skin, but she won’t show it. 

“I agree with your mother.” Mr Macnamara rises to his feet then, standing tall over both of them and Martha feels her resolve begin to waver. Another memory flashes through her mind, a different  angry man and a smaller version of her.

‘No,’ she tells the memory. She is not that small and helpless now.

“Whatever friendship you have with this girl,” her dad goes on. “You’re not one of… them. No-one in this family is.”

“I am. And we’re together. And you’re going to have to deal with it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Heather.” He slams his glass down on the table. A quick, panicked gasp sticks in Martha’s throat. Mr Macnamara looks at her, really looks, probably for the first time the entire evening. Puzzle pieces click together in his head. “She is the reason you left your old friends. The reason you stopped hanging out with the Sweeneys.”

Heather doesn’t say anything. It would fall on deaf ears anyway. Her father sneers at her, pure hatred burning in his eyes. Martha wishes she didn’t understand.

“You’ve spent the last year aimlessly wandering around town and throwing away every plan we made for you for a girl who will work in a daycare!” he shouts.

“At least she’ll actually work!” Heather replies. “All  you do is pay people to sell engagement rings you didn’t design.”

“You will drag this family’s reputation through the mud and why?”

“Because Daddy, I love her, that’s why!”

“Not in my house!”

“Then we won’t be in your house!” she declares. She grabs her glass, drains it and slams it down on the table. The stem splinters. With a sharp tug on her hand, Heather is pulling Martha out of the house, just barely remembering to grab their coats on the way. 

Mr Macnamara is still yelling at Heather as they leave. Mrs Macnamara is quietly sobbing at the table. Just before Heather opens the door, they hear her high-pitched whine, “Is this because we let her do cheerleading?”.

Martha chuckles, but it’s cut short when she looks at Heather. Tears are streaming down her flushed cheeks. When she looks around, she struggles to find the swe she felt when she stepped in. The glitter has faded, and everything looks worn out now. 

Still clutching Heather’s hand, Martha opens the door and leads Heather onto the porch. The door clicks behind them and, despite Mr Macnamara continuing to rant on the other side, it doesn’t open. Heather stares into space, panting like she’s just ran ten miles. Martha stands by her, only looking away to glance occasionally at the door. The shouting steadily winds down and Martha can almost feel the energy of the house eeking out. It’s almost sad to look at; the place that had felt terrifying to Martha at 17 just looks… sad. Dull and sad.

But that doesn’t matter.

“Heather?” Martha asks. “Are you okay?”

Heather sniffles and wipes the tears from her face.

“Is it weird that I am?” She glances over her shoulder at the house. Martha wonders if she’s seeing what she sees. “I wanted to say it.”

“Did you want to say it like that?”

Heather shrugs. White smoke billows from her mouth as she sighs. She shakes her head, blonde curls falling over shoulders. She runs her free hand through it, scrunches up her face.

“I’m not sure,” she confesses. “I don’t know. I think- I want….” Her voice trails off. 

“Do you want to go back to mine?”

A smile bursts onto Heather’s face, sunlight breaking through November clouds.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Something settles in Martha’s heart then; something that doesn’t quite patch up the discomfort they just dragged themselves through, but cushions it and wraps it up so it hurts less. It makes her feel that, no matter what shit they plough through, they’ll somehow come out on the other side of it in one piece. Hand in hand.

“Come on baby.” Martha wraps her arm around Heather’s shoulders. Heather hums contentedly and Martha-maybe out of affection, maybe as a fuck you to the people inside the house-presses a little kiss to her head. “Let’s go home.”

Neither one mentions how or when Heather is going back to this house. Their relationship is based on getting from one day to the other and it's worked out well so far. It will work out, somehow. Even if it's with spit and a prayer.

(Besides, Martha thinks with an unexpected thrill. Her bed fits two people)