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thecandywrites · 2 years ago

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Monster March 2023 Day 22- Fae- Part 2

The Lion and The Lamb

Because March- 'comes in like a lion and out like a lamb'. Well meet Jaeline who is the embodiment of that and can be both at the same time.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023

Part 2

The Lion and The Lamb

Queen Ambrosia had barely stopped moving before you immediately disconnected the long coat and it’s practically ridiculous long train from her.

“There, 50 stones lighter.” You gently teased Ambrosia once you got it from her.

“Philomena, Idelia, I need your help with the train. Ophilia, Thressa, the Crown.” You ordered before you took the first part of the train and lifted it from the floor as the others did the same with the different sections to help you put it away as Ambrosia, in relief, sat down in the chair she had been in before so Ophilia and Thressa could get the Queen Regent Crown- oh so carefully from her head.

The other Ladies took care of the other aspects of her royal regalia while you and two other two Ladies to see to the train, lifting it off the ground and inspecting it for dirt and cleaning it before you brushed the velvet and the fur while another smoothed the silk and satin to make sure it would lay in it’s case and be preserved for the next enthronement ceremony.

However, you could not help but notice thatthe King’s attendants tried to copy what you and the others were doing. As if learning on the fly on what to do in the moment, solely from watching you and the other Ladies. It gave you quite a bit of worry that they were so new that they had not been taught and trained properly. But Queen Ambrosia was counting on you to keep this day happy and more perfect than her wedding had been and this would be an issue to attend to at another time, because to do so now, would not bode well and be seen as an ill omen for her rule.

So, you pretended to nitpick to make sure the Queen’s train laid perfectly in the case while the others simply assumed you were perhaps just being a perfectionist and left. Which you were grateful for, because you were going to wait until they left to go over it again to make sure it was done right. And not simply “good enough”. As one of them said once they figured they had done so as you glanced your eyes up at him to give him a sharp look, then look away again as he turned to look at you again before he left and passed you, leaving only the King’s Right Hand Attendant there in the room with you.

“So…you’re Lady Canae?” The King’s Attendant, who had been stationed in the same position you had been, at King Consort’s right hand- worked up the courage to ask as he had helped put away the long train to the King’s robes since they were stored together in side by side cases. While you made sure the Queen’s was folded neatly and placed ever so carefully into its special box to keep it as pristine as the day it was created.

“Yes, and you are?” You returned.

“I’m Samilio Strophe.” He answered.

“I’m Jaeline Canae. Pleasure to meet you Sir.” You smiled as you shook hands with him while curtsying, the way you had been taught to.

“Oh, I’m…I’m not..a Sir. I’m just…Sami or Sam.” He ducked his head as you could sense he felt unworthy of such a distinction as that reaction got you to frown.

“Sir. You are the King Consort’s right hand man. The First of his Attendants. Sir is at the very least courtesy you are owed. Especially today of all days.” You insisted with an encouraging grin.

“Yet you are a proper Lady yet you didn’t add that title to your name.” He noted.

“No need for it. Today we got to escort the King and Queen down the Throne Room in the Royal Court for their Enthronement Ceremony. That’s all that matters and all that really mattered today. Today was a great victory. Especially for the King and Queen themselves. And the fact that King Ruviem chose you specifically for that role, means that he holds your friendship in the highest regard and has put his faith and trust in you. So if he sees you as worthy, then his opinion is the only one that matters and counts today. Enjoy the honor and the privilege for what it is.” You encouraged him.

“It’s um..it’s just..it’s a lot to remember. All week I’ve had the most intense training on things I had no idea could be so intricate or important and I’ve just…gotten lost in it all.” He admitted.

“Oh goodness. That is a lot. I’ve been training in this my whole life to the point it’s practically a second nature to me. So for you to be thrown into this with such a short time for preparation, I can understand how it would absolutely overwhelm anyone to learn in a week what most have learned in a decade or two, if not a century or two. I’m sure it’s practically all a blur and all jumbled up. You probably feel you don’t know which way is up.” You sympathized.

“Yes. Exactly. Thank you for…understanding that.” He smiled appreciatively as you went over the King’s train in his box since it seemed Samilio, nor the others were obviously not taught how such a precious item should be stored and put away correctly, or if they did, they did not remember it well. You made as many adjustments as you needed to- to get it just as perfect as the Queen’s currently was. So it was clear he was brand new to being a King’s Attendant, but that was ok. Everyone was new at some point. And everyone needed help in learning how to do things correctly.

“What did we get wrong?” He asked as he watched you double check and inspect their work.

“Um, it’s not a matter of getting it too wrong, but there are degrees of getting it right. And you and the others were simply off by a few degrees.” You tried to delicately and discretely inform him.

“Although, if your training was so rushed and you doubted you remembered how to do it right, I wish you would have told us, that all of you were- this new to it. We would have helped you if you had just asked. Everyone is new to everything at some point. It’s just that the Dowager Queen had us practice these procedures ever since the wedding. Since there are duplicates to these trains, used to teach and train the Attendants for how to prepare it, attach it and then clean it, brush it and put it away properly again, over and over and over again. Until we could practically do it in our sleep. But you didn’t get too much wrong, honestly for just watching and mirroring us, you and the other Attendants did remarkably well. It’s just a few simple little things that if done properly now, means that the next time these trains are taken out for the next coronation, those attendants will not have to worry about trying to iron out wrinkles in fabrics that had been left to set that way for at least a century, if not two or maybe three. You see the train needs to lay this way to avoid wrinkles in the first place.” You began to explain.

“Would you please show me?” He requested.

“Of course, some people learn best when it’s hands-on training, if you were given a list of procedures but not given any practice to know what was what on the train itself, it can either leave you confused, overwhelmed yet it can be vague and ambiguous. So for starters…” You said as you began to show him and instruct him as you went along the train, going from the underside up from the head to the end and then from the bottom, working your way to the head again. Samilio then did it with you together, making sure that now that he had one on one instruction, he was trying to take in as much as he could. He seemed genuinely grateful for the kindness and gentleness of your instruction, instead of harsh judgment, as he had started to fear when he saw the way you literally went over the entire Queen’s train with the finest of fine toothed combs and seemed completely focused the Queen, her Crown and the procession.

However, in talking with you, what he found instead, he was pleasantly relieved to find out that- that wasn’t the case. You had the responsibility as Queen Ambrosia’s- Premiere Attendant De Honohre of The First Order. Which meant you got such duties and responsibilities which you took with utmost seriousness and you would fulfill your duties, come what may, which made sense.

But to your surprise. Samilio hadn’t gotten any such title or station. He was simply handed a book on protocol and procedure and expected to do all the things in the book, without any further instruction. Which you felt was incredibly unfair, if not, bordered on sabotage. Which you would take up with the proper channels later, when it was the appropriate time. Samilio even showed you the book itself. It was written when the first Queen Regent was crowned as such. And written in old Fae! Oh the poor thing could barely read, let alone understand barely a fourth of it. No wonder. They had clearly been set up to fail, which made you quite upset. But you knew Samilio and the others were not to blame and would not be receiving any of your wrath. But they all would be getting your instruction should they stay in the palace and attempt to continue to serve as the King’s Attendants. Which Samilio had no idea if he was or not.

King Ruviem had very few friends among nobility, much less the court as it was. He was very much the outsider and his groomsmen had been picked by the old Dowager King, the current Queen’s father. Which you were sure the only decision your friend really had any control in that affair had been her groom. A resentment you knew she still held onto.

You could only hope she would not exact her revenge too severely now that she was Queen Regent and very much had her kingdom in the palm of her hand to do with as she pleased, with her King Consort that was. Because the only way he even got that much, was because once the King and Queen realized that if they didn’t want their daughter to tear down the monarchy with her own two hands, it was best to let her join her hands with the one she wanted to. And they thankfully began to see that once she was allowed to have him as her husband, suddenly all the qualities of the marvelous queen they thought they had raised, began to shine through and it was like she transformed from spoiled and entitled Princess, to a wise, kind, understanding and sympathetic and empathetic ruler who could carry on their dynasty who got to gain a wider and more seasoned perspective.

That and you knew the Queen’s other choices in the marriage market, were sadly, her own relatives. Because royalty had a bad habit of inbreeding together to keep control of the various kingdoms in the same long dynasties.

But Ambrosia was adamant that she would not do the same. She insisted that in order for the kingdom and especially for the Royal Family to prosper, outside bloodlines needed to be added to keep the pool from getting too shallow or so small it could be contained by a thimble. And what her husband had was the epitome of fresh blood and good and healthy family. And he helped to see her kingdom not as something to be ruled, but something to be cared for, nurtured, and tended to well. And to earn the love and adoration of her subjects instead of demanding it without cause. And if anyone was going to tame the “wild” Princess Amber, you were happy and relieved it was the humble and remarkable man beside her.

“So how long have you known the King?” You asked Samilio as you moved to the other side of the train.

“Oh, I never knew him.” Samilio admitted before you paused gave him a curious look before he seemed to shrink back and then stand aside, rather awkwardly, almost afraid to reach out and touch anything else, let alone take up the space he currently was, and while he looked the part, he certainly didn’t act the part. Which gave you pause, if not pity.

“The King that was just enthroned today?” You clarified.

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry. I forgot. That Ruviem was made King Consort today, practically just now. No. No I didn’t forget. Today was the best day of his life. It’s um, it’s just that I uh, I…I’ve always just known him as Ruvi.” He confessed as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you mused he had probably never worn clothes as fine as the ones he was dressed in at the moment by the way he seemed almost like he was terrified of getting the most likely borrowed garment dirty since it didn’t fit him like it had been tailored for him the same way your dress was for you. Which you thought was, perhaps a bit odd.

But one of the key differences was after the wedding, Ruvi’s practically changed half the staff at the castle. Because he then had the power and authority to. All those other servants who had the audacity to look down on him or mock him, he turned them out proper. He also changed who he allowed to be his own personal council. And perhaps it was there that you may have caught a glimpse of him before. Ruvi was now allowed to have whoever he wanted to be his personal Attendants, whether they were in nobility or not and he may not have had a chance to decide who he wanted to promote where. Or perhaps he was wanting them to gain more training and prove themselves before he would make those decisions.

However, you were happy and proud to see that not a single man who had been Ruviem’s groomsman was with him now. And honestly, he looked happier for it. And that it wasn’t just Amber and himself against the Monarchy, let alone the Dynasty or all the old traditions that practically kept Amber in a cage of rules she was ready to burn and break free from sooner or later. Now it really could be more of a Kingdom of their own making and ruling. A New Era for the Dynasty itself.

“I know what you mean. I’ve always known Queen Ambrosia as Amber. As children and in private. In public of course, you have to remember their titles. And your p’s and q’s. Because out there in the court, appearances and decorum need to be upheld, especially today of all days.” You gently reminded him.

“So, were you there at the wedding?” You asked as you were sure you had seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite recall how you recognized him or where you had known him from. You knew Ruvi had many friends among the commoners and especially nearly all the other moura-fae around the world, especially in Suchi. But you thought you knew his closest friends best. But Samilio, was rather new to you, today at least, and this up close and personal as you realized that…it was still just the two of you in the room as the others had slinked away to give the two of you perhaps a bit more privacy, Philimena’s doing no doubt.

“Yes.” He nodded as his cheeks flushed as his head ducked lower as his pointed ears were so red, you’d fear they would catch fire as he looked down at his shoes, that also seemed at least a size too big for him too.

“I don’t recall you being one of the groomsman.” You noted as you searched your memories.

“No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t…allowed to be.” Samilio admitted before it dawned on you how you knew him. He had been a waiter! He was the waiter for the head table and had filled and refilled your wine glass! That’s how you recognized him! You felt practically ashamed for not remembering that. You had thought that the apologetic looks Amber and Ruvi had given him were odd. But you were also preoccupied with trying to fight off all the other groomsman who seemed eager for you to catch the bouquet, if only to follow tradition with one of the court’s most eligible bachelorette, but you were sure it was only because it was known that you held the Queen’s ear. And that besides her husband’s opinion, she often sought yours when she took council with you.

“Oh, I’m…I’m so sorry about that. Yes, I remember you now. I would not be surprised if you held a grudge for it. And that wedding had been planned and prepared for since Queen Ambrosia’s birth practically. I remember the absolute nightmares it was just so she could get the groom she wanted. She was willing to compromise on any and every other thing. And I’m sorry that one of those compromises must have come at great cost to you and put a strain on your friendship with King Ruviem. The court and their rules aren’t always the kindest to anyone who isn’t nobility, let alone royalty. But hopefully all of that will change for the better. Probably tonight if I had to wager at least.” You admitted with an apologetic look. Now your own cheeks flushed in some embarrassment.

“You should not apologize for something that is not your fault. I distinctly remember that it was not you that insisted that if I was going to be allowed into the wedding feast, it would be as the only position I knew I could perform well. Refilling wine glasses.” He recalled with a bittersweet expression, the sweetness, of course directed at you, but the resentment and bitterness still clearly with the culprits.

“Honestly. All I am is a glorified maid myself, Samilio. Granted I have better clothes and I get to enjoy social events, but there are still very clear distinctions between who is a servant and who is the master, even when friendship can often blur that line.” You candidly admitted.

“But with all that being said, I’m happy that you could be here for King Ruviem today at least. It sounds like the two of you share a long friendship, and I hope that whatever strains it put on you, get lessoned. And you can go back to enjoying your friendship, the way it was always meant to be enjoyed as.” You offered as you finished with the King’s train and put the lid back onto the box before doing the same with the Queen’s before he helped you put the boxes away into the special chest before you relocked it.

“Yeah, yeah, we do.” Samilio nodded before he chanced a look up at you to find a sweet and understanding look and reassuring smile.

“Well, from this moment on, here’s some advice, if you have the patience to hear any.” You prefaced.

“I’m all ears.” He readily invited.

“Pretend.” You encouraged him.

“Pretend?” He repeated in confusion.

“Yes. Pretend that you belong here, even if you may not feel that welcome by anyone other than the King himself and the Queen and myself and the other Ladies to the Queen. But that is reason enough. Pretend that what you’re wearing was handcrafted for you just like my dress was for me. You are just as special of a person as I am or any of the other King’s or Queen’s Attendants. You were hand chosen by King Ruvian to attend to the most precious royal regalia in the kingdom on the day of his coronation an honor that comes only once in a lifetime.” You encouraged him.

“Remember, it’s your face that is in the royal portrait, right next to King Ruvian’s that was done tonight. So, in my opinion, you are practically the King’s special guest and should be treated as such. You are- to anyone and everyone else outside of these chambers- Sir Strophe. And anyone who would dare look down on you for your humble upbringing- can take it up with the King and Queen themselves. And knowing Amber, I wouldn’t put it past her to remind every single guest out there in that court when they too were once no better than anyone else and still aren’t. Don’t let anyone bully you into thinking that you don’t belong here with the rest of us. Because you do. You absolutely do belong here. You are worthy Sumilio. Don’t doubt it for a moment. And in order to play this very important part, if you have to pretend, pretend. Otherwise, accept the facts as they are. That you were invited here, you do belong here beside your friend and you should be proud to be at his side on his second most important day in his life so far, the first being his wedding of course. So, shoulders back.” You instructed before he did as you instructed.

“Head held up high, calm and serene smile with pleasant composure and confidence but not arrogance. It’s a balance. You’re servant only to the King. But master to anyone else. At least tonight anyway.” You urged him as you tilted his chin up so that he would look into your eyes with your finger as he shyly returned your smile before you readjusted the jacket he was wearing as best you could.

“Ok, at the risk of being inappropriate, take this off, it does not fit to you properly. It’ll take me two flicks of a wing to get it right.” You encouraged him before you turned and got a box of thread and sewing supplies to make a few cheating stitches to quickly tailor this jacket to him so it looked more suited to him, even if you had to break the threads later.

“You don’t have to…” He tried to say as he put his hands over the ill fitting jacket.

“It suits you just fine in the shoulders. It’s ill fitting everywhere else. It won’t take but another few moments. Just a few stitches, a few pins here and there and it’ll look great and you will feel more comfortable in it if it fits you properly. For now, I need you to stand like this.” You insisted before you were already taking a special pencil and some clips to pinch and mark where the jacket needed to be rouched at a few places in the back and specifically on the sides as you had him put his hands together out stretched in front of him to make sure you wouldn’t rouche it too much so that he couldn’t move comfortably.

“Ok, I got it. Now please take it off Samilio.” You urged him before he did and you laid it out and then began to use pins to turn the rouching inward so that it would look more pleated in parts before you took a needle and special thread and got to put in a few starter stitches to show where your start, middle and end pieces were before you flipped it inside out and then quickly pinned and pleated and rouched as you needed to.

You tried not to let your temper flare at the Department of Royal Attire for doing Ruviem’s attendants so badly. But again that would be a battle to wage tomorrow. Tonight was all about Ruviem and Amber and you would not detract from their happiness.

“There, see? Hardly took but a few moments. But first, we need to get you fixed up proper here.” You said before you rearranged his shirt and vest and other layers of clothes so that they all laid the way they were supposed to and then once he got the jacket back on, then he looked like a proper attendant.

“Picture perfect.” You beamed happily.

“What you do you think?” You asked as you gestured to the full length mirror in the room.

“Do I look like I’m wearing a corset now?” He asked a bit self consciously to see the waist of the garment practically cinched in.

“No, it simply shows how broad and strong your shoulders are and well honed your core is. It looks the way it should have all along. What was the Department of Royal Attire thinking? Did they really just get all of the King’s Attendant’s arrangements and only make a set of them based on the largest measurement of all of you so that all of you would wear any of them?” You asked.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“I’m sorry. That was not how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to tailor each one to each of you so it would all fit like the custom garment it is meant to be. But if you’ve only been here a week, I can see they must have rushed you and everything else then.” You mused.

“They did.” Samilio confirmed.

“Then you should not apologize for something that you didn’t do and that you didn’t have a hand in overlooking.” Samilio reminded you.

“No, but I will have a hand in correcting. Both now and tomorrow.” You insisted.

“I don’t want to get anyone into any trouble.” Samilio offered.

“You won’t.” You reassured him.

“Shall you escort me back to the King and Queen Sir Strophe?” You asked before he held out his arm for you to take before you left the chamber to see the Queen and King still taking off some of their heavier pieces of jewelry and trading them in for lighter pieces that more suited their individual tastes before you let go to attend to the Queen.

“And?” Queen Ambrosia asked once you noticed you reappeared to attend her as she noticed your nostrils flared as you tried to refocus yourself on Amber and not on the others.

“Jaeline?” Amber asked.

“Oh. Um. He is a very pleasant young man.” You answered.

“Yet you look like you’re ready to don armor and go into battle.” Amber murmured quietly to you.

“Nonsense. This is your Enthronement Day. I shall do nothing of the sort. I would never dream of doing anything to detract from your joy of victory.” You answered her.

“Jaiah.” Amber repeated your personal nick name again with a bit more firmness as she reached out to still your hands which were trembling with rage.

“Amber. This is your day of greatest victory. Have it. Enjoy it. And I will get my own tomorrow. Trust me on that much. I never wanted the smile to leave your face.” You entreated before she turned to face you and held your hands tighter.

“You will either tell me now or I will make that entire court wait and the food will go cold as I wait for your answer.” Amber insisted before you simply knelt down at her feet for the sake of comfort.

“There was a plot to sabotage the King, Your Majesty. It failed. But it nearly succeeded.” You answered in a hushed whisper.

“Tell me how.” Amber demanded as she too began to look like she was ready to don armor and join you in said battle.

“King Ruviem’s Attendants have only been in the Castle for a week. They only had a week to prepare for tonight. And none of their clothes were tailored to them! Look at how they are all the same size. Literally the largest measurements of each person, all made into one size of jacket. They were all given the Queen Regency protocol book from the First Queen Regent in old fae. No translation, no drills, no practice. It was a wonder they did as good as they did. Now I know Ruviem has been cleaning house, but he apparently ruffled enough feathers to evoke such a brazen act. But I know for a fact that they were all set up to fail. None of their shoes are even fitted right to them. How come you look exquisite, as does your King as do I and the other Ladies, but not them? Shouldn’t they be dressed to the same degree we are? The doormen are dressed better than they are. And if Ruviem was simply going for a new style in the court, that would be one thing, but he has not said a word of it. I know Ruviem likes to “surprise” you. But this is not like him and not like the usual pleasant, sweet and thoughtful surprises he is known for. I know, since your courtship you have only had eyes for him, but I need you to really look and really see how King Ruviem’s Attendants actually look.” You entreated her before she turned to give them a look over her shoulder and the look on her face was one of shock, like this was the first time she was seeing them.

“If they were only allowed into the castle a week ago, I could understand that the Department of Royal Attire to rush the the garments. But usually the DRA takes at least a week or two just to do alterations. At the very least, the DRA should have already had their measurements. They weren’t even given any ways to customize their own outfits to themselves. How is what they’re wearing any different than flour sacks with sleeves with embellishments? Someone along the chain of command either dropped the ball or there was an actual attempt to sabotage today.” You insisted.

“Agreed.”

“Add to that, those Gentlemen- should have been invited as guests to the wedding not servants to pour our wine at their best friend’s wedding when they should have been groomsman. I realize that your focus was on Ruviem and your parents. But someone within these walls. Wanted to embarrass you and Ruviem by this. The only way they got as far as they did was by mirroring us. It seems there needs to nearly have a new house all together in order to get it into proper order.” You explained.

“I agree.” Amber nodded in understanding.

“I had to rouche Samilio’s jacket myself in the royal regalia room myself in order for it to look even half decent on him.” You confessed before she looked over at them again.

“Darling?” She called out to her husband.

“Yes Dearest?” He answered her.

“Was your Attendant’s attire your choice to have them fit that way? Are you trying to set a new trend in fashion?” She asked as she fluttered her fingers around as she gestured to all of them.

“It’s something that perhaps we should deal with later.” He answered before they shared a meaningful look.

“Well then forgive me, I need to speak to your Attendants for a moment. All of you, come here please.” The Queen requested, keeping her tone sweeter- since she was still sitting down getting her shoes replaced with ones that were infinitely more comfortable.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” They asked nervously as they came to be before her as Philomena managed to get the Queen’s shoes off, but the minute she did, Ambrosia stood before she could put new ones on.

“Oh come now, we are in private, you are among friends and peers at the moment. I promise none of you are in trouble and will receive no backlash for honestly answering my questions. I understand that your training in today’s ceremony was rushed. And that you’ve only been in the castle for a week?” She asked, her tone ever so light, gentle and inviting.

“Yes.” They nodded.

“And what instruction were you given for today?” She asked before they showed her their copies of the book they were given as she read the title to Ruviem.

“Darling, are you hearing these answers?” Amber asked as she took it and looked it over.

“Yes. I’m aware. That’s why I wanted to handle this tomorrow, I didn’t want to start making waves right this moment.” He answered which Amber grinned, rather dangerously and hummed in response.

“Well, Gentlemen. I am sorry that you were not given the proper welcome and the care and hands on instruction you were meant to have, for much longer than you got it.” She began to apologize to them.

“But I can promise and assure you that such a pattern of treatment will cease from this moment on.” She sweetly vowed.

“Lady Canae has been most kind, gentle in her instructions and we’ve simply followed your Ladies’ excellent example.” Samillio offered.

“And I see she did her best to help tailor your clothes to you so they would fit better too.” She smiled proudly.

“She did.” He confirmed as you stood and simply folded your hands and smiled appreciatively from

“Ladies, if you would please see to it and follow Jaeline’s example and please try to rouche your fellow Attendant counterpart’s clothes really quickly so that we may continue with the feast please. I’m able to get my own shoes on and can take care of myself and the King from here.” She invited before she took your hand and walked you over to the King herself as the other Ladies quickly took care of the other Attendants.

“Ruviem, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me that at the very least, the Department of Royal Attire had done you and your friends so wrong?” She asked him as he sheepishly ducked his head.

“They didn’t. They did their best with the time allotted to them.” Ruviem calmly reassured her as he worked on getting all these damned pins out of his jacket.

“It’s your Enthronement Day. I didn’t want something small and insignificant to taint the day.” He answered.

“It’s your Enthronement Day too.” Amber reminded him.

“But I do see your point. Jaeline, here’s my signet ring. Investigate this matter. I want answers, if not guilty parties in my throne room by morning.” Amber immediately said as she took the ring off and handed it to you.

“And here’s mine, and you have any issues, you have my permission to deal with the guilty parties as you see fit.” He urged you.

“Yes, Your Majesties. It would be my honor and privilege to get your Attendants their due justice and the respect they deserve by investigating this matter as thoroughly as I can. And I will not rest until the guilty parties are brought before you tomorrow.” You answered as you took the rings and simply tied them to your handkerchief for the moment so that you wouldn’t leave this preparation room wearing them outright before you got two more rings that were similar enough to the signet rings to replace them so for most, it wouldn’t look any different.

“And I would like to offer my apologies Ruviem. I’m sorry your dearest and closest friends could not be by your side on your own wedding day. But I am happy that they could be here for you today.” You offered to him as you helped take the pins off the jacket, your deft fingers making quick work of it.

“Thank you. Many thanks for how you’ve handled this and will handle this matter with the utmost discretion. And most of all, for treating my friends with the care, gentleness and encouragement that you have.” Ruviem offered.

“Oh?” Amber asked you.

“Well, I may have given Sir Strophe a few pointers and pieces of encouragement.” You admitted to Amber with a small little grin.

“Good. I’m counting on you to make the new Duke Strophe and the other Duke’s feel welcome in the court.” Queen Ambrose smiled schemingly as she looked to her husband who simply hummed and nodded as your eyes went wide in horror.

“Oh no.” You suddenly flushed and practically leaned into Amber to hide your face in your hands, wanting to vanish from their sight.

“What?” Amber asked as she put her arms around you and hugged you and comforted you.

“I…I may have just made a grave mistake then. If memory serves me right, Sir Strophe was the waiter at the wedding. I thought he would return to that station after this. I told him to ‘fake and pretend that he belongs in the court’.” You confessed.

“Oh Darling. It’s not going to be announced until the feast. When we announce all of our Attendants are now elevated in station. But because of this incident, all of you will be elevated to the station of Dukes and Duchesses. But if only there was a station higher than that though?” She reassured you in a soft murmur before putting the question to her husband.

“I think for tonight, Duke and Duchess will do just fine, until we have more time to find another or even invent another.” He shrugged with an equally scheming grin.

Ruviem, was rarely scheming or devious. But every time he was, Amber was especially delighted. It took a lot for Ruviem to get riled up to resort to such things. So it was proof that he was offended at his friend’s treatment. And the fact that he gave you his signet ring? Oh, you practically held all the King and Queen’s power and authority in your pocket without having to wear their crown to do it.

“I…I do not need such a precious distinction. The other Ladies, of course. And especially the King’s friends attendants, by all means…but I’m happy and content with what I am and what I do.” You tried to counter.

“Grand Duchess then.” Amber leveled in a gentle ultimatum.

“No!” You tried to shake your head violently no, because such an honor was meant for the Queen’s own daughters as you kept your voice low but your own look of practical terror at the thought got her to simply smile fondly.

“Then take the Duchess.” She insisted.

“Fine, fine. You win. Duchesses and Dukes it is.” You held up your hands in surrender.

“Jaeline, considering how awkward Samilio has been carrying himself, that was probably the best advice you could have given to him. Besides, it’s supposed to be a surprise. You didn’t ruin or spoil anything.” Ruviem offered as he reached out and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“And honestly, we’ll be counting on all of my Ladies- to help the newcomers to the court to get acquainted with the other members of the court. And if you need to recall anyone else’s humble beginnings if there is a protest, then by all means make note and report back to me should anyone need help with accepting the new change, and a lesson in humility.” Queen Ambrosia insisted to you with a scheming smile.

“Yes, I will see to it that they know.” You nodded before you, more out of habit, than anything, curtsied then turned on your heel to quickly go around the large room where each of the Queen’s Ladies had pulled on of the King’s Attendant’s aside to work on their jackets to rouche them in.

“Operations Humble Origins and Sentinel.” You whispered in each of their ears with a quick nod to who they had chosen to help.

“Understood.” All the other Ladies smiled happily.

“What’s going on?” Samilio asked as you returned to the cases of royal regalia pins and other embellishments to start to put it away again as the Queen was now sitting down, letting Ruviem put her new shoes on her feet, which melted your heart to see as Samilio tried to follow your lead and grab another case of other things Ruviem had him take off of Ruviem’s person to put them back.

“Operation Humble Origin and Sentinel.” You answered once you got back into the massive closet and began to double check the items before you put yours away and then took the case Samilio’s case from his hands to do the same as he looked bewildered.

“What are those?” He asked.

“The King and Queen have asked me and the other Ladies to be your Sentinels, as well as the others. That court- for as much as it represents the height of sophistication, can practically be filled with ravenous wolves too. So it will be my honor and privilege to be your Sentinel, if you will have me that is. And if anyone wants to bring up your gracious yet humble origins. I have their Majesties’ permission to remind each and every single one of them of exactly where they were once commoner and no better or worse than any other, with extreme prejudice if so warranted. Because while Amber has teeth and claws a plenty. I am- for all intensive purposes, her most intimidating guardian. I am her March, I can either be as fierce as lion or as sweet and darling as a lamb. So, I will not hesitate to protect their Majesties and their house. Which starting a week ago, included you. So don’t worry. I got this Samilio. If for no other reason- as your friend.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

“Well I would be an absolute lunatic to turn you down.” He shrugged with a pleased smile that now he had the perfect excuse to stay close to you for the evening.

“Yes you would.” You giggled, which got him to laugh before the two of you quickly put away all that you could before you opened another door that led to another room.

“Why are we in here?” He asked as he followed you.

“The King and Queen wish to give us presents. It’s supposed to be a surprise to the others. So shh.” You whispered as you pulled out the cases of what you needed to before you handed him a stack of Duchy Crowns, which simply had a simple symbol on them to distinguish them from any of the others, in special velvet cases and got yourself the feminine set and then went back to the other room and quickly took out lengths of ribbons and began to tie the ribbons around the boxes, so they would look no different from any other present before you called your own Lady in Waiting, your own younger sister.

“Lady Dahira.” You called out before she came into the room.

“Get these to the head banquet table. Put them on a table right behind the King and Queen.”

“I see someone is about to get a promotion.” She practically giggled as she had Philimena’s little sister do the same as they took the two stacks and left the room from the back exit.

“Promotion?” Samilio asked.

“Yup. Promotion.” You nodded in confirmation.

“Are we almost ready?” Ambrosia asked everyone once she and Ruviem finished getting each other ready to be re-introduced into the court.

“Yes, I just finished with the special gifts. They will be at the head table Your Majesty.” You answered.

“Excellent.” Amber and Ruviem both answered at the same time with the brightest of smiles.

“Ok, places everyone.” You urged everyone and got everyone else in order in which they were led out of the preparation room.

Once the King and Queen were ready to re-emerge for the banquet, you took Sumilio’s arm again as you stood directly behind the Queen as he stood behind the King. The doors were opened as Queen Ambrosia and King Ruviem re-entered the large dining hall as the court applauded before they walked to the table and you had to let go of Sumilio’s arm to take your proper place to the Queen’s right at the head banquet table to eat the feast that had just been set. You were happy to be seated beside Amber, as she and all of her Ladies were on one side of the table and the King next to her on the other side with his other Gentlemen on the other side of him as you made a special effort to be as kind and gracious with the servers from now on.

Then the Queen and King stood to make an announcement as everyone hushed to hear what they would have to say. Once everyone seemed to eat and drink their fill.

“Our first act as your new Queen Regent and King Consort, is that all of the Ladies to my right, as well as all the Gentlemen on King’s left, are now all Duchesses and Dukes respectively.” Queen Ambrosia announced before she went down the line of her Ladies, beginning with you and granted you the title of Duchess, along with all the other Ladies who curtsied low to accept the title, and the crown associated with such a station, as you took off your diadems to accept before King Ruviem proclaimed all of the Gentlemen down his end of the table to be so as well. Since so much had been prearranged for their wedding, and the only choice he had, was his bride, Ruviem was happy to now call his friends, his fellow nobleman.

You could see the sheer state of overwhelming emotion on Sumilio’s face as you watched as he was practically moved to tears and had practically taken a knee before Ruviem pulled his friend to his feet and hugged him tightly and shook his hand and spoke a few words of encouragement as you clapped and applauded as the others had done for you when you were proclaimed a Duchess before the Regal Sash was put across your chest and smiled proudly as Samilio was garnished with the same as you could tell he was starting to doubt whether this was really happening to him or not.

“I do promise and swear to you. You are not dreaming. Congratulations on your bestowed endowment.” You offered Samilio when you got a chance to take his side once more once the cake was brought out to be cut the King and Queen left to cut it.

“I feel I must have passed out and hit my head.” Samilio admitted.

“No, you haven’t. But I promise, if you do, I’ll try to catch you before your head hits the ground and hopefully this skirt, would cushion it considerably. It’s like wearing a silken blanket filled with down honestly, perhaps lead, for how heavy it is.” You candidly admitted.

“Would you please um…?” He stuttered again as he looked over the crowd.

“Please what?” You asked.

“When I came into the throne room earlier, everyone in the court looked at me with suspicion and contempt. And now they…” He admitted as he looked around to see several fathers take their daughters aside to no doubt “encourage them” to go after the new dukes and eagerly grab up the titles as mothers seemed to be doing the same with their sons as you found that yourself as well as him and the other Queen’s Ladies, and The King’s new Dukes were now being looked at like they were a prime meal- ready to be devoured.

“Are looking at you like you’re the most handsome and eligible bachelor in the kingdom?” You guessed.

“Yes.” He readily agreed, rather nervously.

“So I take it you wish to have a little more guidance now that you’ve just been declared that you do absolutely belong here and that everyone here is now an inferior to you, when not even an hour ago, they were firmly set in their beliefs of the opposite? As well as being your Sentinel?” You guessed again.

“Yes, please, My Lady.” He requested as the way he had said those words seem to strike you differently than they had ever struck you before. Because besides the desperation in his eyes and on his features, there was a hopeful, tenderness and fondness, if not awed adoration in the inflection of his tone. It was the same tone you had heard when Amber had been desperate for Ruvi’s true and genuine affection in private moments and it nearly took your breath away. How had a man who had been a stranger only moments before, now suddenly become your new best friend and confidant? Besides, Amber and the other Ladies- of course.

“Of course. But only if you will offer the same protection to me because I have a feeling my dancing card is about to fill up with requests and suggestions for dates that will conveniently be offered on my one day off. Which I can spend how I please. And the last place I wish to spend it is with social ladder climbing, conniving cohorts, eager to grab up the latest available branch into gaining a higher standing among their peers where I would be their bragging rights more than anything. Which, I feel assured that you are not the kind of man to do such a thing.” You readily agreed.

“Well, I do not know all the dances…” Samilio confessed.

“Then we will only dance the ones you know and are confident with. Otherwise, I’m sure we can always excuse ourselves for “preparations” for the night, which, as the King and Queen’s most prominent attendants, we are still required to do.” You reassured him as he blew out a breath of relief as his smile was practically just as bright and dazzling as the clothes that he was wearing, if not more so.

Sure enough, you did get to dance a few dances with him in between introducing him properly to the rest of the court, in between assuring him and reassuring him that he did not need to remember everyone’s names, that there would be other times that he would meet them to become more familiar with them in the future. Although, you were eager to see Prince Matae and hear more about his friend, Queen Benyana and Queen Audraviene.

“Oh, I know them. They’re at a wedding in Solowards at the moment.” Samilio realized.

“You know Benyana and Aurdraviene?” You asked him in pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, I grew up with Benyana. Audravienne is awesome. And at your earliest convenience, I want to take you to meet their new friend. Contessina, you’d like her. Her sister’s wedding is tomorrow night. It’s going to be her greatest revenge.” Samillio admitted.

“You had me at revenge, tell me, tell me, tell me.” You practically begged and bounced on the balls of your feet before he told you what had happened as you listened with rapt attention.

“Actually, there was an open invitation for me to go, would you like to be my guest?” He asked as you were ready to cross over into that world immediately.

“Yes!” You agreed instantly before the gentlemen tried to pry you away from Samilio, but you were quick to excuse yourself- and Samillio- to attend to the Queen.

“They are particularly hungry tonight.” You managed to breathe to Samilio as he walked you over to the table where the Queen was sitting down with Ruviem and her parents, as well as his own, eating cake.

“Your Majesty, may Duke Samilio and I be excused from the banquet to attend to our royal duties tonight? I wanted to get a head start.” You requested.

“Oh, yes of course Your Grace. Duchess Philomena will get me to the Royal Bedchamber, please, go ahead and prepare it, along with your other duties.” Amber smiled, her face, pleasant, but the look in her eyes practically dazzling with eager delight to see how you would carry them all out before she handed you another handkerchief with her parent’s signet rings in them too. So now you wielded the power of the entire Royal Family.

But you would not abuse it. Only use it to carry out your task.

“It is my honor and delight to continue to serve you, Your Majesty.” You curtsied again before you kept a firm hold on Samilio and quickly left the ball before Samilio felt like he had to jog to stay in step with you.

“What’s all the rush? The night is still young.” Samilio asked.

“Sam, I’m going to need your help. Do you think you would be able to show me exactly who you interacted with all week. And who purposefully saw to it that you, and the others were ill prepared?” You asked him hopefully.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” Sam sheepishly answered before you stopped and walked him to an alcove in the hall.

“Sam, look at me. What those people did, was tantamount to sabotage and treacherous treasonry. I have been tasked with identifying them so I can bring them to Their Majesties so that they may get justice and punishment for such acts. A work that will go much easier and smoother if I do not have to track down each and every single person in each department. Starting from the dungeons and working my way up if I have to. But if you simply point me in the right direction. Or, at they very least tell me who is innocent, so that I may, by deduction, find out who is guilty, the quicker I can do this assignment, that I was given to do by Her Majesty Queen Regent Ambrosia and King Consort Ruviem. And these are the proof of this assignment.” You explained as you pulled your handkerchief out of your pocket to show him the signet rings.

“Will you at least tell me who is innocent? You don’t have to tell me who is directly guilty. Just tell me who I don’t need to waste my time with if they’re innocent. I can work out the rest on my own.” You proposed.

“Ok, fine.” He caved.

“Great, now I’m sorry, but I’m going to rush you through how to prepare the Royal Chamber for bed. Because this takes precedence.” You said before you put the handkerchief back into your pocket and continued to walk with him to the Royal Bedchamber as you hurriedly went through all of the procedures and protocols, thanks to Samilio’s help.

And in record time, you were off to the Department of Royal Attire- first to begin your hunt as you put both signet rings on each hand.

You got into the department and had the department heads call in everyone in the department, getting many of them out of bed. Choosing to question the ones who were just woken up first as Samilio was quick to tell you who was not involved. But that left quite a few guilty parties. You had them immediately arrested and put into the dungeon to be dealt with later- before you sent troops out to the homes these people took up so that no one could leave or enter as a form of house arrest before many tried to turn on each other, if only to insist on their own innocence. But you asked them to save it for when they would answer to the King and Queen the next day themselves.

After that, it didn’t take long to root out all the other guilty parties and by sunrise, you felt like you went through the whole castle, keeping a tally of who was guilty of what in your trusty notebook you always kept in your other pocket.

But there was one last stop. The Palace Guard and specifically, The Gate Keepers as Samillio began to feel more sure of himself and told you which ones hadn’t even let him and his friends into the Palace before a week ago when Ruviem came out and got them in- himself to get them in. And it was here that was the root of the problem. The Captains of the Gates.

“Oh, if it isn’t the Queen’s little Lamb.” One of the Captains cooed from his station in the high tower before you stopped and looked up at him, giving him a look that conveyed how much you were currently on the warpath.

“Oh, or not, I see The Lion is out today.” He managed to murmur, but your keen sense of hearing still heard it which got you to huff a mirthless laugh through your nose.

“What’s that about?” Samilio asked.

“Before there was the convergence, On Earth, people had twelve months in a year, three months per season. One of the months was called March. It was said that “March came in like a lion and out like a lamb”. And so most of these of these men have seen Queen Amber be the Lion, and myself the lamb to temper her. When in reality, it was the other way around. Queen Amber was allowed to be whatever she wanted to be. And I have been waiting to let the absolute lioness I know I am, out. These fucks don’t have a snoball’s chance in lava.” You growled dangerously to Samillio as he was both turned on, yet, strangely terrified for these guys. Because, usually- the sweeter the girl, the more vicious she could be when you got on her bad side. And while he didn’t want to be the target of your wrath, he was looking forward to seeing how these bastards were going to get what was rightfully coming to them. You purposefully walked straight into the guard towers.

“I need to speak with the entire Gate Guard.” You insisted once you entered the fort before you began your questioning before you were quick to single out the guilty parties before you dismissed the rest.

“Gentlemen. I’m here to give you a choice. Do you want to deal with me as the Lamb you think I am. Or as the Lion I have been sent as?” You asked them.

“Well, that depends.” One of them began to answer.

“On?” You asked.

“If I say Lion, will you actually get to bite this time or just roar?” He antagonized before the others snickered a laugh.

“Fair enough I suppose.” You leveled as you let your sweet lamb like veneer you always seemed to keep in place fall.

“I’m here on behalf of Queen Regent Ambrosia and King Consort Ruviem, as well as the Dowager King and Dowager Queen themselves.” You said as you had Ambrosia’s Ring with Ruviem’s ring on one hand and the Dowager King and Queen’s on the other to show them.

“How can we be of service My Lady?” They asked, as their faces fell and fear filled their eyes as they all collectively gulped to see, you, The Queen’s Premiere Attendant De Honorhe, wearing a Duchess’ crown on your head and sporting all four signet rings. With a look about you that you were ready to take an axe off the wall and ready to get all of their heads rolling right out the doors that had been shut behind the innocents. You could tell they suddenly looked alarmed and embarrassed to suddenly get caught, and get caught as quickly as they did.

“Tell me why the King’s Attendants, one of which, you see beside me, were not allowed into the Castle until a week and a day ago.” You leveled evenly as you crossed your arms over your chest and took on the same commanding stance Amber always took on.

“Uh, we, we thought they had no business in the castle. The castle was on high alert with all the changes, It wasn’t until Ru…”

“King Consort Ruviem.” You sharply corrected them.

“Yes, a thousand apologies, King Consort Ruviem came and made it clear that they were his invited guests. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.” They gulped.

“Inconvenience?” You repeated skeptically.

“Because of your incompetence, if not just plain prejudice, in not letting the King Consort’s Hand Picked and Hand Chosen Attendants who had all the proper documentation and all the requirements that none of you should have batted an eyelash to let them through sooner- Their Majesties just made all of the King’s Attendants- Dukes in their own rights- mere hours ago. But this incident- that these gentlemen, had to cram years worth of preparation into a single week. You put the Royal Attire Department at a great disadvantage in getting their royal attire that was needed for them to wear for the Enthronement Ceremony- was shabby at best because they were cramped for time. This gross negligence is currently being seen as sabotage to their Majesties and their own Enthronement Ceremony. And they are both of the mind that such a grave negligence is tantamount to traitorous treachery against the Crown. And will be dealt with as such. So don’t you dare try to pass this off on the poor soldiers who are actually at the gate, who would have let them through- without your interference. You can claim an overabundance of caution all you want. I doubt Queen Regent Ambrosia and King Consort Ruviem, much less the Dowager King and Queen will see it that way. Much less rule and judge this incident under any other light than the ones they are already under the impression of.” You leveled at them.

“Please! Please! Dear sweet and kind Lady. Please! We meant no such thing!” They all tried to beg and plead as they were on their knees and reaching for you as you took a step back to keep yourself and your own attire out of their hands.

“Then you will arrest yourselves and allow me to lead you into the throne room to answer and account for it yourselves. And my only piece of advice, is to not pass the blame onto anyone unless you were instigated by another. But to be perfectly honest and open about why you kept the King’s Attendants from Attending the King.”

“And gag yourselves while you’re at it, I don’t want any of you trying to corroborate and collaborate and construct a story and then sticking to it once you’re presented.” You insisted as you put the gags on them yourself before you took the chains and led them away yourself and led them straight to the throne room where the others were being brought as Queen Ambrosia and King Ruviem were just now, getting awakened and prepared before you sat down in the Marshall Seat and simply waited for them all to come as you pulled out your book and then began to reconstruct your timeline for the week as they were all tasked with standing apart from each other, so that they could not speak a word to each other and try to come up with a collective collaboration.

#Monster March #Monster March 2023 #Monster March 2023 Day 22 #Monster March Day 22 Fae- Part 2

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 1 year ago

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Beatrice, like Marsilio, sends ten letters a week and has kept everyone up-to-date on the gossip from her neighbourhood in Florence. She has named all her children after her brothers and their mother and their grandparents. She authoritatively tells Marsilio to “take it easier” and has predicted that his ill health in entirely to blame on his stomach lining and spleen. Not to mention his sunrise walks. She does not believe them to be constitutional, she has informed him, in fact she believes they may be harming him. What he should do is rest in the morning and take constitutional walks in the early evening. Marsilio disagrees. He has explained his Rites to Apollo to her, to help her understand. She shot back, The Moon does well by me and since you say you’re more womanly than not, on account of your penchant for weeping, perhaps she would do well by you. Marsilio replied, Simply because I weep more than most when my emotions run high does not mean I must attune my approaches to health to that of your sex. She ripped into him for two pages in return. A man could make ten volumes out of the screeds written to one another about how to best tend to the family’s health. Their father thought it all vastly entertaining and regularly said that if Beatrice had been born a man, she would give Marsilio a run for his money on being the family scholar. Giovanni sometimes takes Beatrice’s side, to Marsilio's annoyance. He is certain it is only done out of a desire to provoke for his Giovanni has something of a contrarian trickster in him that comes out to play from time to time. Last December, Marsilio was in Florence and Beatrice insisted he dine with the family after Christmas-day mass, and he brought Giovanni along. Half-way through the meal Beatrice asked how his health was faring and Marsilio said he was doing well, thank you and Giovanni, that traitor, replied, He lies. He’s been ill for several weeks and only just recovered in time for the feast of Santa Lucia. Beatrice then declared in her matriarchal manner, It is because you drink wine from Chianti, brother. I’ve said before that you must drink wine from Veneto. It is better for you for it is not nearly so sweet. Dry wine is what you need, it will not imbalance your humours to such a disagreeable degree. Chianti is good for me, Marsilio had insisted. Giovanni? Beatrice turned to the other man. Giovanni ate some bread. Grinned at Marsilio’s widening eyes and replied, I agree with you, signora, Veneto would be better for him. But you know how stubborn he is. There, Beatrice had folded her arms in content victory, Giovanni agrees with me. He isn’t a doctor! Nor are you for that matter. I’ve read what you’ve read, and I medicine my children and they are strong and healthy. Not to mention that I tend to my friends when their husbands will not listen to their complaints and send for a proper physician. In any case, Beatrice is present. Beatrice is around. Beatrice will never let a man forget she exists.

Family dinner with the one sister of Marsilio for whom we have a name. We also clearly need an entire book about Beatrice haranguing her brother, ganging up on him with Giovanni, and being the world's nosiest neighbour

#the magi #beatrice is playing with fire though #given the regulations around all things medicine and doctoring related #she's fine so long as she doesn't advertise herself as anything other than Helpful Neighbour #marsilio ficino #writing

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themalhambird · 1 year ago

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Ok, because this post got quite a bit of interest I'm going to lay out what the above thinking led to:

Ok, because this post got quite a bit of interest I'm going to lay out what the above thinking led to, namely that isolation pervades Mansfield Park in more than the obvious ways and in fact, when it comes down to it, Fanny Price is perhaps one of the least isolated inhabitants of the park.

For all that Sir Thomas mentally labels Yates as one of Tom’s many “intimate friends” , Yates is just Some Guy who Tom met, stayed with them for a month or so and then, later, ran off with Tom’s sister. In order to avoid returning home to her family and what she fears will be a more or less gilded imprisonment, Julia gets married to a man who is pleasant but not, in reality, that well known either to her, or by the brother who introduced him to her. Maria likewise engages herself to a man she can’t know that well- she accepts Rushworth’s proposal after “the proper number of dances”- and also marries chiefly as a way of separating herself from Mansfield Park. And of course, Julia and Yates’ story ‘ends’ with their reconciliation with Sir Thomas, but Maria’s ends with her shut a long way away with only Mrs Norris- who she doesn’t care for any more than she cared for Mr. Rushworth. Maria and Julia’s relationship with each other is not close either: Henry Crawford easily drives a wedge between them, and we never get the sense that they confide in each other.

Just as Maria and Julia are anxious to escape the family, Tom doesn’t stay at Mansfield Park more than he can help it either. But for a man with apparently endless acquaintance, we never see him with a genuinely close friend (Yates doesn’t count, see post above), and he and Edmund don’t seem to be close either- he only wants Edmund’s company after a near-fatal illness and equally, Edmund never seems to seek Tom’s company either. We don’t hear of them hunting together, riding together, or even of them being in company with one another when they’re both in London at the same time. Nor is either brother close with either of their sisters: Tom seems entirely oblivious to anything going on with either girl (he doesn’t comment on Rushworth, he doesn’t notice the falling out over Crawford) . Edmund is equally blind. On the other hand, he does seem to be the only Bertram child to approach being close with Sir Thomas.

None of the Bertram Children are close to their mother. Sir Thomas obviously doesn’t see Lady Bertram as anything approaching an equal partner. Lady Bertram isn’t aware of even missing her husband until he’s back with her. Mrs Norris couldn’t give less of a shit when Mr Norris dies, except for the reduction that makes in her yearly income. None of the sisters nee Ward are close, even when the original breach between Mrs Price and the others is somewhat closed. Mrs Norris’ spare rooms are never wanted. Lady Bertram never goes into Public, never visits, and never seems to receive visitors of her own rank or similar. We’re told she has an extensive correspondence, but we’re also told that it’s mostly filled with nothing. Sir Thomas has exactly two friends that we hear of- Mr Norris, who dies off page having never once been seen on it, and Mr Harding, who also never appears in person and who smells suspiciously like a plot device thrown in to mix late in the game because Austen needed to have Sir Thomas preparing to go to London somehow. He has a sister or other near relation, presumably, as Julia stays with her cousins in Bedford Square, but Mary Crawford forgets their name and so the reader never learns it. We can safely assume that it’s not, therefore, a close relationship.

This leaves us with Fanny. And although Fanny is isolated at the Park , particularly with her “not a servant, but not actually being treated as part of the family all that much either” social status, she has more genuine and lasting relationships than anybody else in the novel: her early friendship with Edmund, and her strong fraternal bond with William- with whom she consistently corresponds (in contrast to Tom and Edmund, who never write except on business, and Mary and Henry who, if Henry writes to her, writes a mere note). She has no close bond with her mother, father, aunts, and uncles, but she builds a strong rapport with Susan in a fairly short space of time. Her relationship with Mary Crawford is more complicated, so I’ll put that to the side for now (the way I read it Mary thinks they’re friends, Fanny can put up with and occasionally even enjoy the acquaintance; Your Reading May Vary) but even with that aside, Fanny has first William, then Edmund, and then Susan. She ends the novel closer to Sir Thomas than either of his daughters, potentially than either of his sons. I’m not sure I’ve got a conclusion yet, beyond my usual Bertram-Family-Rot-Beneath-A-Gilt-Veneer schtick (I love how secretly miserable and fucked up deep down the Bertram kids probably are) I think perhaps the point is that family is just a word until actual work goes into the relationship, and Fanny is one of the few people in Mansfield Park willing to actually, well, work.

Thinking about how Tom Bertram doesn't actually know Yates that well- he's like, some guy Tom met at a party once, casually invited to stay in that generic kind of 'oh, if you're in the area' kind of way, and then Yates actually fucking shows up....and runs off with Tom's sister six months later lol

#long post #Mansfield Park #Meta #Fanny Price

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after-witch · 4 years ago

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A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself.

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try--you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?--but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

A life draped in rich clothing, overseeing fine details of the estate that make your head spin. How many bags of this or that must be ordered per week? When should the bedding in that room be washed? What is the appropriate amount of money to put in a servant’s purse when sending them to the market? Questions you never imagined yourself asking yourself, which now fill your day with a gilded tedium.

There’s a deceptive leisure lurking underneath everything here. True, you no longer have to travel far and wide, selling your family’s wares from heavy baskets carried on your back; you no longer have to search the edges of the forest for edible plants to toss into boiling broth on days when you could not afford meat. You never want for food (unless he takes your dinner away as punishment) and any comfort you could need is within reach, so long as you’re behaving.

But you are on edge, always. Preparing yourself for another pitfall that might open up beneath your feet, and always looking for ways to improve yourself. Or at least ways to avoid earning your husband’s sharp disapproval. Regardless of your efforts, you have been on the wrong end of a harsh insult, a slap, a pinch, a cane, more times than you care to count.

Be prepared, be poised, be perfect. It’s the mantra you repeat to yourself every morning.

The mantra you repeated to yourself this particular morning, in preparation for a meeting he insisted you attend. A meeting which apparently required your finely-tuned skills in pleasing conversation and your much-practiced ability to “pour a passable cup of tea.”

Anyone else might assume it was meant to be an insult, but your time with Scaramouche has led to you to understand that the slightest praise towards you, while minuscule to others, was something you were meant to fall on your knees and thank him for. Sometimes literally, depending on his mood.

Why he wanted you to pour tea for some delegates from Fontaine, and what their increasing presence in the area really meant, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t your place to ask him, and the memory of recent stinging pain on your backside keeps you from feeling even remotely tempted to broach the subject.

So here you are. Dressed elegantly, but not garishly, as is proper for his wife. With a tea pot in your hand and perfectly arranged cups and the ghost of a pleasing smile on your face. Charming words drip from your lips, pleasantries, pleasantries, pleasantries--the type of words Scaramouche loathes yet drums into you all the same.

Prepared, poised, perfect.

Except for the slight tremble of your hands.

Except for the uncomfortable hitch in your breath as you speak.

Except for the fact that there are ropes tied snugly around your breasts, wrapping around your chest and criss-crossing between your breasts with an uncomfortable pressure, all hidden underneath the outfit he’d chosen for you that afternoon.

You’d balked, first--then begged. Begged not to be humiliated like this. What if someone sees? What will people say? You’d even tried to appeal to his pride, suggesting that if you couldn’t fully concentrate on your duties, well, how would that reflect on him?

All that earned you was a glint of a smirk and a tug as he knotted the rope encircling your breasts, making it even tighter than before. His final threat at your continued pleading--”I can always make you go out in nothing but the ropes”--finally shut you up.

And so, here you are. Face hot with shame and something more, silently pleading that your clothing won’t somehow shift and reveal the secret underneath. Despite the layers covering you, you still feel naked, exposed. As if the people indulging in polite conversation can see right through you, see the way your breasts are framed by the itchy ropes. See the way your body is responding to such a total humiliation.

It’s not just the chafing rope that bothers you. It’s the pressure itself. It feels… no, you don’t want to think about how it feels.

Instead, you hone your focus in on the task at hand. Pouring the tea, a nice subtle blend made with Violetgrass flowers. A previous round of guests from Fontaine had enjoyed it so well that Scaramouche had you tell the teashop to start stocking up for future visits.

You wish you could hide the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you pour the last cup of tea for a woman whose name you regrettably can’t remember. You normally repeat their names over and over in your head, lest you forget and endure Scaramouche’s sharp tongue (if not his cane) later on; but your predicament made it impossible to keep track of new information.

You might be able to enjoy the tea, enjoy the facsimile of polite conversation weaving its way around the table, if only you weren’t so distracted by the tightness, the chafing, the undeniable fact that--oh Archons above, that all of this was making your nipples humiliatingly hard underneath your clothing.

“Do you agree, wife?”

All eyes glance at you. Whatever Scaramouche just said had clearly be addressed to you, only you were too distracted to notice.

In the moments that you’re left half-gaping, mentally groping to somehow pull his previous words out from the ether, his hand snakes around your waist. You feel his fingers on the outside of the soft fabric, searching until they find their intended target--the knot--and tugging hard to tighten it further.

You gasp, your body lurching upward and forward at the sudden sensation of your breasts being squeezed, and the tea pot you’re still holding drops to the table. Time seems to slow to a thick crawl, and you can see the pot is not cracked, but tipped over, hot tea spilling onto the table underneath with abandon.

The sight of the dark brown stain spreading, trickling underneath saucers and cups, leaves you helpless until you force your shaking hands to grab the pot and set it back up on the table.

“I, I--” you start to stutter something. An apology? An explanation? But the constricting ropes and the dawning realization that you have just committed an extensive social faux pas--in front of guests, no less--leaves you helplessly unable to speak.

The guests, for their part, look suitably uncomfortable. The woman whose name you can’t remember is holding onto her cup, saving it from being intercepted by the trickling tea. You don’t know whether their looks are because of your embarrassing display or because they know your husband’s reputation, and feel pity for you. Perhaps a bit of both.

Scaramouche’s voice cuts through the tension, though it does nothing to lessen it.

“I apologize for my wife’s clumsiness,” he says. “I should have realized that she wasn’t up to the apparently complex task of serving tea.” His voice is dripping with condescension, making more heat rise to your cheeks.

Humiliation does not begin to describe what you feel as he gently--public appearances, you think--takes your arm and stands, bringing you with him.

“Perhaps you are ill.” He looks you up and down, faux-concern written all over his face. But you know what he’s really thinking about, as his eyes linger on your chest for a fraction longer than they should.

You swallow hard, and do your best to nod. It doesn’t take any effort to look ashamed at what’s transpired.

“I--I have been feeling unwell,” you say, making sure to project loud enough for the audience he’s curated for you. “I may be too tired.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe your silliness. A silly, silly wife--that’s what you are. Never mind that it’s all his fault. Never mind that he chose to do this to you, and chose to do it in front of guests.

A small, bitter part of you resents the guests for being there at all, resents the fact that they probably know you’re an unwilling ornament to the Harbringer’s obsession but do nothing about it.

But what good does resenting them do, when it won’t change your fate?

He takes your hand and gives it a pat, each touch patronizing to the core.

“Apologize to our guests and go rest. And send someone more capable to clean up your mess.”

You have to apologize for the fact that you spilled tea due to his decision to engage in some perverse bondage in a public fashion. You have to apologize for the fact that he deliberately made you do it, too, knowing how you might react when he pulled the rope.

It’s horrible and humiliating and unfair.

But you do it anyway.

Turning towards the guests, gaze downcast with shame, you force out an apology; keeping your voice soft and melodic and clear, as expected.

Then you retreat as calmly as possible, feeling everyone’s gaze--but especially his--on your back as you leave. You catch the eye of the nearest servant as you make your way back to the bedroom, laying out the quickest version of events and not relishing the look of anxiety that crosses their features at the thought of dealing with Scaramouche after such an apparent social travesty.

But you only have enough energy to consider your own anxieties, so you continue on without thinking more about them.

Walking only seems to make the feeling of constriction worse, and you bite down on your lip as your sensitive nipples begin rubbing against the fabric with every step. It feels good, it feels bad--whatever it is, it’s all too much, and you want nothing more to cut off the ropes and hide until the morning.

Not that you have the courage to risk such an endeavor.

You don’t feel any calmer by the time you reach your shared bedroom, but at least your humiliation is a private one, now. And you can rest, at least until he’s finished for the evening. For a moment, you simply stand still, bringing your arm across your chest and pressing to provide some pressure, some relief, to your sensitive breasts.

There’s an undeniable twist in your stomach when your arms brush against your nipples, and you hate it, and you love it, and you feel just as sick and perverse as he is when you slide a hand inside your clothing and give one aching nipple a pinch. You rub your legs together and ah, there it is--the pleasurable tingling and beginnings of wetness, and well, why not give yourself some pleasure, you think; why not give yourself something good and pleasant before he comes in and ruins everything with whatever sick punishment he’s concocting?

It’s not until you make to curl up on the large bed, eager to relive the tension building inside you, that you see the scroll wrapped up on the pillow. With a sense of justifiable dread building in your stomach, you sit, and unfurl it.

The words are written in Scaramouche’s familiar handwriting:

“Take off your clothes. Lay down and spread your legs on the bed until I return. Don’t touch yourself. I will know if you haven’t followed my instructions.”

Bastard, you think. As if your humiliation today wasn’t strong enough. Your hands go to undue the fastenings keeping your clothes together, and the first hints of bare skin leave you with anticipatory goosebumps. How long would you be expected to be on the bed, presenting yourself for his apparent pleasure?

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

But--well. At least he didn’t tell you to bend over the caning stool again.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 4 years ago

Text

tongue-tied like we’ve never known || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, swearing, not really proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: two single parents try to start their lives again...

Mornings were always the worst for you. Trying to pry Tommy out of bed, and even yourself for that matter, was always an incredibly stressful task. But you’d learned to live with it and quickly come to accept it. After all, he was only young now. He’d be old soon enough and you knew you’d miss these youthful years.

You stood by the school gates, waiting for little Tommy to come bounding out of school to tell you all about his latest adventure. You always looked forward to hearing how his day went. As small children scrambled out of the doors after their teachers and straight into the arms of their parents, your eyes fell onto Tommy. He was with a boy you didn’t recognise. “Look, look! Meet my new friend,” Tommy grinned as he stood before you excitedly. “This is my mum.”

“Hello,” the little boy, dark-haired with perhaps the most striking green eyes, smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oscar,” you smiled. “Are you new?”

The boy nodded, his cheeks flushed slightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tommy had made a new friend. He’d been kind to the new kid and offered him a form of friendship.

You were tugged away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You quickly turned to see a man, a little taller than yourself. You figured this was Oscar’s father from the dark hair to the green eyes. “There you are,” he smiled warmly and it seemed to make your heart flutter, as if he was smiling at you.

“Daddy, this is my new friend, Tommy,” Oscar grinned excitedly.

For the first time, the man shifted his gaze from the two young boys to you. Your stomach lurched as you made eye contact with him. “You must be Tommy’s mum,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking it gently. You hadn’t felt like this since you first met Tommy’s dad. It was all of eight years ago now on a night out with your university friends, most of whom you didn’t even speak to nowadays. He had been kind then and polite and the sort of man you’d always envisioned yourself marrying. So, you ended up getting together and everything seemed great for the first year and a half. But then things began to decline and you both seemed to lose trust in one another and you felt as if you were putting all of your energy into this relationship. It was killing you. But then you fell pregnant with his baby and he broke up with you anyway. You went back home to live with your own parents for a while before you eventually found a proper job and moved into your own house.

Anyway, you found yourself walking down the street, Tommy and Oscar running ahead slightly, with Harry. You had Tommy’s light bag clasped between your hands, listening to Harry tell you about Oscar. “And yeah,” he concluded, “we moved down here a couple of weeks ago, just the two of us.”

“What about Oscar’s mother?” you couldn’t help but find yourself prying.

Harry seemed to tense slightly, before shrugging, “She was never really around much. Her parents thought she should have gotten an abortion but she didn’t want one and had the baby anyway. So, they kicked her out and she left Oscar with me and moved to Dublin with her friends.”

“That’s shitty,” you sighed. “At least you have Oscar, though, right?”

He nodded, smiling, “Exactly. What about Tommy’s dad then?”

“He was a dick. He broke up with me a couple of months after I told him I was pregnant,” you replied.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “sounds like a dick. Does he see Tommy then?”

You shook your head, your eyes caught between Harry’s and your son's lively figure running up and down the path ahead of you with Oscar. “No. He’s tried to reach out a couple of times but I haven’t let him see him. I just feel like introducing him to his dad six years later could just, you know, fuck it up. Besides, if he didn’t want to be with me through all the shitty, difficult stuff, then I don’t think he’s allowed to enjoy all the joys of being a parent.”

“Well,” he smiled, “good on you.”

And that was how you met Harry Styles. Over the weeks that followed, you would walk Oscar and Tommy to and from school with him. Tommy would spend time round at Harry’s and Oscar would spend time round at yours. And it felt like every time you saw Harry, you felt simultaneously more comfortable around him but more and more nervous.

But you hadn’t dated anybody since Tommy was born. Having a young child seemed to be a deterrent for a lot of people. Or maybe had more to do with the fact that you didn’t have time for a relationship between work and raising Tommy. Sure, you’d been on plenty of dates and it wasn’t as if you weren’t ready to get back into the world of dating and relationships. If not for yourself, for Tommy. You wanted him to have some kind of parental figure that wasn’t you.

You found it difficult to focus on the book you were reading when all you could hear was the two boys laughing loudly upstairs. Oscar was round for dinner and Harry was due to pick him up any minute. And as a knock at the front door finally snapped you into a new state of consciousness, you got up to answer it. Harry stood happily on the other side, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Evening, Y/N,” he smiled.

“Evening, Harry,” you mocked. “Do come in.”

You opened the door wider, allowing the man to step into your home. You called down Oscar and Tommy, only to be met with groans. They appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces twisted into bitter scowls. “Why?” Tommy sighed. “Can he stay for a bit longer?”

You exchanged a glance with Harry, who shrugged. “Fifteen minutes,” you sighed. Really, all you wanted was to go to bed. They grinned and dashed back into Tommy’s small bedroom. You guided Harry into the kitchen, letting him sit himself down at the table. “Do you want a drink?” you asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he smiled.

You grinned, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, “Suit yourself. So, how was your day?”

“Stressful,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”

“Anytime,” you shrugged. “He’s delightful. Besides, you’ve looked after Tommy so many times, I kind of owed you.”

“Nonsense,” he laughed. “We’re not exchanging favours. We’re just… helping out a friend.”

You couldn’t help but let yourself deflate at ‘friend’. You had known all along that you were just two, young single parents that only knew each other through their six-year-old sons. But a tiny fragment of you hoped what was happening meant something more to Harry, like it did to you. There were instances of harmless flirting and subtle glances. “Right,” you nodded, forcing a soft smile. “Well, thanks for helping out a friend.”

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the table and your eyes wandered from their tips to the tattoos that peeked out of the cuff of his jacket. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked and you almost cringed at the small talk.

But alas, you shrugged, “Not really. I have some work to catch up on, so an action packed day for me tomorrow. What about you?”

He shook his head, “I wish I had plans. Could go out for drinks or something, but I can’t because I have a needy six-year-old.”

“Treasure it while it’s still here,” you said.

“Believe me,” he grinned, “I am. God, I’m so scared for the day he just… stops needing me. You know, the day he just sort of realises that he no longer needs me to wash his clothes or walk him into town or buy him things. And it took me ages to get used to putting somebody before myself, I don’t think I could imagine living without him now. Like, one day he’ll go off to uni and get a job and only come home every other birthday or Christmas.”

You smiled gently. You were sure he’d never been so vulnerable with you before. “It’s weird to think that’s what we’re doing with our parents now. We fear the day our kids stop needing us, but our parents are living that day.”

He hummed in thought for a moment, “I should probably go see my mum soon. I haven’t seen her in months. And my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Gemma is her name. She’d love you.”

“I’m sure I’d love her if she’s anything like you,” you said.

You took a final gulp of your orange juice, your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You looked at the clock on the wall, noticing twenty minutes had passed since Harry arrived. “Right,” you smiled. “I’ll go get Oscar.”

And as you walked towards the kitchen door, Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

You turned back to look at him, your heart pounding heavily. All kinds of questions and hypotheticals raced through your mind as he paused for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody else, Y/N?” he asked.

“Meet somebody else?” you repeated, though you were sure you knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, you know… like somebody to replace Tommy’s dad. Somebody for you to settle down with and raise Tommy together. Do you think you’ll ever meet them?” he asked.

You were utterly confused as to what had prompted him to ask such a question. But you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t hear your heart in your temples or taste your blood in your mouth. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d like Oscar to have a mum.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think that would be great for him. I’ll go get him.”

That night as you lay alone in your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share your bed with Harry. To feel his body beside yours on cold nights. To be woken up by his lips peppering your face in light kisses in the morning. To discuss all the trivial things when neither of you can sleep at night. Maybe he was trying to tell you something that evening…

Oscar had become ill over that following weekend. Nothing too serious, but something that warranted a day or two off school. So, after you picked Tommy up from school, you drove to Harry’s to check if they were both okay. Tommy sat at the end of Oscar’s bed, recounting everything the young boy had missed at school, while you busied yourself in Harry’s kitchen. You were heating up some of the soup you had made for the poor boy. “You’re really too kind. You didn’t have to do this,” Harry told you as he made you a cup of coffee.

You shrugged, “Well, Oscar’s like my second son at this point.”

He smiled, albeit his cheeks a little red, “I’m glad you think that. I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as a mum at this point too.”

Now it was your turn to turn red. Your face heated up at Harry’s passing comment. Did he really think of you as a mum? “That’s sweet,” you said. “About what you said the other night… about meeting somebody, my friend says she knows a guy she thinks I’d get along with. So, I think I’m really going to try dating.”

He stiffened slightly, “Oh yeah? That’s great, Y/N.”

He hugged you and you couldn’t help but feel so safe in his arms. The hug was perhaps a second or three too long, but neither of you pulled away. And, as your bodies were pressed together, it was almost as if you shared a brief but looming epiphany together. “But,” you began again, “why try dating a stranger when I already know somebody?”

“That’s a good point,” he whispered softly, finally pulling away to make eye contact. He explored your face and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks.

“I mean, this guy that I know, he’s sweet. Really sweet. He’s super funny and caring and so, so generous. And he has a kid himself, so he won’t be put off by the single parent thing.”

He understood what you were trying to tell him, “Sounds like an angel. Who is this fine man of whom you speak?”

You grinned, “I don’t know if I should say. He has tattoos and green eyes.”

“So he’s incredibly handsome as well as being an angel?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you chuckled. And, as if the sky were falling down, Harry wasted no time in pressing his lips to your own. He kissed you and you kissed him back. All of your prior dating worries just seemed to slip away as you buried your fingers in Harry’s soft hair. It was only when you heard a quiet ‘mum?’ from the doorway did you jolt apart. Tommy stood in the threshold of the kitchen and suddenly the microwave went off, notifying you that Oscar’s soup was ready. You and Harry turned back to each other, finally registering Tommy’s presence, “Shit.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles oneshot #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry oneshot

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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The Geraskier divorce attorney AU of my dreams (hear me out):

-Geralt doesn't have regulars. Of course, he doesn't have regulars, he's a divorce attorney, a good one at that; sure sometimes there are clients that hire him twice because of mistakes or short-lived marriages, or he will have the odd person whose ex-partner he once helped, but in his ten-year-career, he's never once had a person come to him more than twice

-He has never married. The few long-term relationships he had didn't amount to anything in that regard and perhaps his job has spoiled the whole affair for him; there's never been a need either, he has his daughter Ciri, has his horse Roach which he rides on weekends, he couldn't be more content (or so he thinks)

(-Jaskier knows that many people would and do call him a whore, an adulterer, but he isn't. He is a romantic, a fall-in-lover, a dreamer, a free spirit. Which is why he gave himself the name 'Jaskier' (much more befitting of his character than Julian, what a common name) and why he tends to end up at the altar... more often than is strictly normative)

-The first time Jaskier enters Geralt's office, he acts as though it's the beginning of a Broadway show. He walks in, stands in the middle of the room and opens his arms wide. "Good day," he twitters and flashes Geralt the brightest grin. Geralt raises his eyebrows, but he isn't about to turn away a guy who looks affluent enough he can charge him a little extra. "Hello?" - "Julian Alfred Pankratz, call me Jaskier." Jaskier settles into the chair opposite Geralt's desk and puts his leather-clad feet up on them. Geralt pushes them off and asks: "Mr. Pankratz, what can I do for you?" - "Ah yes. My lover and muse, the Countess de Stael, has left me for another. The problem is that we got married just last month and I'm afraid she is going to bleed me dry if I don't have a proper attorney. You've been recommended to me by a friend. What do you say? Help out a fool?" What? Countess? Well. "Fine," Geralt says. "Let's talk fees."

-Jaskier is a lot and when the divorce is through and all aspects of their working relationship are settled, Geralt calls his babysitter - Yen's always happy to jump in on short notice - and invites his colleagues Lambert and Eskel to get drunk. Jaskier was annoying and exhausting, constantly babbling and flirting with Geralt and, god, he never wants to see him again.

-Of course, Geralt sees him again. By the time he does - half a year after the first time - Geralt has almost forgotten about Jaskier and his stupid Countess and how utterly drained that job left him. Jaskier sounds cheerful on the phone, not at all the common cadence for Geralt's clients, and comes into the office with two Macchiatos and a box of donuts; disgruntled, but unable to say no to sugar, Geralt allows for them to have the coffee over their conversation about Jaskier's upcoming divorce and it makes it more bearable. "So," Geralt says. "Give me a rough outline of the situation." Just to be prepared. Jaskier grins, wipes a sprinkle off his lips and takes a sip of coffee. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out. So about two months after you helped me last time, the Countess de Stael gave me a call..." Geralt wants to smack the man when he is done his well-embellished tale. Jaskier is obviously being used. But he's not here to judge, he's here to do his job and Jaskier pays well.

-The third is a woman called Molly. Geralt never gets to meet her, Jaskier never talks about her, it is as though she doesn't exist as more than a job to get done, a contract to fulfill. Aside from the topic of his soon to be ex-wife, Jaskier is more talkative than usual. He asks questions about Geralt's personal life, talks about his job - of course he's a broadway performer, 'star' doesn't quite apply - lingers. Geralt finds he... doesn't mind this time. It's nice to socialize for a bit, even if it is within the general bounds of his job. Jaskier makes him laugh somehow.

-"You should give me a discount," Jaskier jokes when he's there to leave a paycheck for Geralt for the fourth time (that Countess again, Geralt doesn't understand how they got married three times in a span of two years (in addition to that Molly woman)). "I don't give out discounts," Geralt replies. - "Why not? I'm a loyal customer, you should have a system for this." - "Mr. Pankratz, do you realize that you are the only person I know who goes through this many marriages in such a short amount of time?" - "Always knew I was special," Jaskier laughs and leaves with a small wave.

-"Okay, Geralt, what the hell?" Lambert asks, strutting in after Jaskier's gone with a bad temper written across his face. "Who is this man? And why does he keep coming back? You know I can hear his voice from my office. So if, like, you're having some sort of strange workplace affair, cut it the fuck out." - "He's just an idiot who keeps getting married," Geralt says and waves Lambert away. He doesn't add that he kind of starts to miss the idiot.

-Priscilla is very nearly a different story, something Geralt only finds out after the fact. Jaskier breaks down before their court appointment, sobbing into Geralt's shoulder that he can't do it, he can't let her go, why doesn't she want him; by that point Geralt has known Jaskier for almost four years and the thought of him staying in a marriage for longer than half of one makes him queasy, gives him little bursts of pain against his breastbone; in truth, he's glad Priscilla's leaving Jaskier, antsy that it took almost a year for them to split up; she approaches him after the divorce is through, while Jaskier's in the courthouse bathroom crying his eyes out. "Tell him I'm sorry," Priscilla says and Geralt scowls at her. "Tell him I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have to. Tell him to wait for me." She leaves and Geralt doesn't even know why he should be the one to relay that message to Jaskier and so he doesn't. Jaskier never mentions her again.

-The sixth time is the Countess de Stael again and Geralt already prepared his case from the e-mail Jaskier sent ahead. The last three times all went in favour of the noblewoman who was able to protect her fortune, but Geralt thinks he can make a case for emotional manipulation and get Jaskier at least a sizable indemnity. "Mr. Pankratz," Geralt says when Jaskier comes for their appointment. "Are you ever going to call me Jaskier?" Jaskier replies with a sigh and drops into the chair. His hair is tousled, there are deep half-moons under his eyes which look like he spent the whole night crying. Geralt's heart feels bruised, but he can't get involved dammit. "That would be inappropriate," he grunts. They get to work and Jaskier walks out with a broken-heart and a swollen bank account.

-"When will you give up on that woman?" Geralt asks when Jaskier saunters into his office one Friday, not three months after the last divorce. It's late afternoon and Geralt's ready for a weekend of watching Disney movies with Ciri, but Jaskier's always a sight for sore eyes these days. Not for the first time does Geralt consider asking him out for coffee, but the fact that he's only ever seeing Geralt because he's in need of a(nother) divorce somehow poses a barrier. "Now that is not very professional of you. To answer your question: right now. That's why I'm here." And for the first time with these two, it's Jaskier that wants the divorce, Jaskier that takes the initiative. He's only ever been the one to get dumped. Geralt's up all night thinking about that.

-For an entire year, Jaskier does not return and that annoys Geralt. He finds himself fretting, distracted, hoping Jaskier will turn up with another marriage to be dealt with, but he doesn't. The thought that Jaskier might have found someone he wants to stay with makes him physically ill. His code of conduct forbids him from using Jaskier's contact info though. Maybe this is for the best and anyway, Geralt is down to earth while Jaskier is... well, Jaskier. An emotional roller-coaster. He has his daughter and his horse and all is well. Only it isn't because Geralt managed to fall in love with Jaskier. (When Lambert and Eskel find out they laugh at him for two hours straight)

-Jaskier does turn up eventually, but not to get divorced again. He waits outside the building where Geralt works with two cups of coffee in hand and a tired smile. Geralt lets himself be led to a nearby bench, lets Jaskier speak. "I considered proposing to random strangers just to have another botched marriage for you to get me out of," Jaskier says. "But that would have been rather inconsiderate and there are easier ways to see you." - "I thought you might have found one that sticks," Geralt replies, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "I might have." Jaskier winks at Geralt and Geralt decides to throw caution to the wind. He leans over and kisses Jaskier's lips, then mutters, "I don't ever want to see you in my office again." - "And here I thought that your desk would make such a great hmph..." Geralt shuts him up with another kiss. It feels right.

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #witcher #modern au #headcanon #cw swear words #lambert #priscilla #countess de stael #geralt of rivia #this was fun to imagine #things I'm never going to write #my geraskier dream AUs

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jishyucks · 4 years ago

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Me and You Against the World ‣ hjs

‣ genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage, female reader, pls read an!

‣ wc: 4.7k

‣ summary: "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you…"; in which you don't let the words of others get in the way of your relationship with Jisung

‣ warnings?: Itzy is mean in this (but it doesn't reflect how they are irl!), prejudice due to less wealth, lots of thinking

‣ an: These events are what leads to this fic but in a different 'era.' Basically, I decided to just write the ending of this fic in a rich kid au setting instead of a royal au setting and just post that,,, but since I already wrote a lot of it, I decided to post it! It can be read separately but this doesn't have a proper ending.

You can vividly remember the reactions of all the other princesses when they found out you were arranged to marry none other than Prince Han Jisung. They snickered and laughed. They blatantly shared pitiful glances, taking turns to pat your shoulder as if it could bring you a sense of comfort.

Of course, at the growing age of fourteen, you had no idea why they had been acting as so. From images and stories you received of the Prince, he seemed like someone who would be easy to get along with. So why the judgmental looks?

"They're the poorest of all the kingdoms, Y/N," Yeji pointed out, "Your kingdom is one of the richest, of course, after mine. Don't you think that's rather odd?" She traced the laces of her gloves and scoffed discourteously.

You bring the teacup up to your mouth, eyeing your friend curiously, "What do you mean by that?" You gulped, afraid that the image of your family name would be stained. It was not your choice, however, nor your parents'. You had been drawn to be last when choosing a suitor, and naturally, from the apparent reputation and wealth of the Han family, their son was the last left to be selected.

Yeji scoffed, the other princesses laughing at how naive you've been acting, "Obviously, their family's going to leech off of your family. I think your parents should rethink their decision of choosing Han Jisung as your future husband."

Shaking your head, you frowned at the meaningless words that your friend had been spitting out, "I don't think that's needed… Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out? How bad can Han Jisung be?”

Lia finally speaks up, "I heard that he rolls around the mud with their pigs."

"And… he doesn't even take a bath after doing so," Yuna budges in. She stirred the cooling tea with a miniature spoon, a smirk rising up to her lips, "Imagine how his bed smells. Rancid."

"I hear he's poor-mannered, too… that he lacks the respect a prince should need towards others," Ryujin says stiffly, "Just generally not fit to be a king. I feel bad for you, Y/N."

There was a brief silence between the six of you, the sound of Yuna's spoon tapping the sides of the cup occupying that silence. Though you felt yourself frown at the possibility that you were to be married to an ill-mannered prince, you quickly shook those thoughts out and tried your best to ignore them. You were taught never to be driven towards believing rumours or gossip in this case. Who were they to judge someone they never met? Except for Yeji, who met him through her brother.

"I ask you all not to pity me in any sort," you finally say, "Not until I've met him. Besides… those are just rumours. He could be much better than you hear." Satisfied with how you handled the situation, you straightened your back and took a long sip of your tea, mentally preparing yourself for your first meeting with the Prince.

—

Upon arriving at the valley region, the kingdom owned by the Han's, you immediately understand why your parents settled with their son. Though you were last to choose your suitor, your parents and his parents seemed to be closely acquainted, smiles on their faces and direct contact as they greeted each other. You stood back, watching the exchange begin and end, rather amused at how happy both sets of parents looked.

"I'm so happy you all arrived safely," the Queen of the valley region clasped her hands. The King nodded and let his wife continue, "And I'm so glad that our children are to be married by chance… All the other young princesses chose, while you–" She looked over your mother's shoulder and at you, "You and my precious son fell into this arrangement by fate's doing! The world wanted this."

Your mother responded by smiling fondly, "I never viewed the situation like that!" They begin to move up the stairs towards the front entryway, the knights moving along the four majesties. You followed closely behind, listening in on the conversation as you let your eyes wander around. "My mother had been upset that Y/N fell last, telling me I would not be able to choose the best," your mother began, "But I don't see any problem with that."

Compared to other castles you've visited, you could definitely see how much wealth the Hans did have. It was still very much a beautiful castle. It was well-kept and unique in build. Something drew you to it. But you couldn't exactly point out what part of it did.

"I understand your mother's perspective," the King chuckled, "No one likes being last. However, I believe that in such matter, no one is stuck with the 'worst.'"

At this point, everyone had entered the castle, and this was when you could see that the Hans were, in fact, less wealthy than the other royal families. Much of the furniture and interior decorations were quite old, almost antique, but again, it was a feature of the castle that drew you in. The outside of the castle looked much larger than the interior.

"Ah! I almost forgot," the Queen turned to look at your family, "My son is out and about exploring. We instructed him to come in time to greet you guys at the entrance but boys his age never listen." At the mention of Jisung, you almost forgot about him, causing your curiosity to rise.

"Miss Kim?"

A lady appeared from another room, hurriedly approaching the Queen with a bow, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Please escort Princess Y/N to Prince Jisung," she instructed gently, "It will be nice for them to get acquainted while we continue with our conversation about this arrangement."

Miss Kim nodded and waved you over with a motherly smile, "Let us go, Princess." You quickly bid your parents goodbye before trailing behind Miss Kim. Though her legs were short, she moved with ease, almost flying down the corridor with a constant speed. She didn't look back to see if you had still been following her as your footsteps helped her indicate your presence.

"I suspect the Prince is somewhere by the garden," she mutters urgently, "Or by the river."

"River?" you questioned. The idea of a river caused you to smile. Your family ruled the mountain region, meaning there were not many rivers to visit. A river would be a nice change in scenery. Miss Kim finally leads you out of the back of the castle, the sight of flowers taking over your line of sight.

"Prince Jisung?" she called out, "Prince Jisung?" It was rather enjoyable seeing Miss Kim run around frantically in search of the Prince. Your mind wanders back to the conversation you had with other princesses, how the Prince is ill-mannered, one who was not fit to be a king. With his absence in greeting you and your family, you're afraid that the other princesses were actually correct with this information.

"I'm over here, Miss Kim!" a voice called out, "By the pond!"

Once again, Miss Kim waved for you to follow you. You hiked up your dress and tried your best to keep up with her speed, though she still kept the same pace she previously had. She walked straight down the stone path, turning right onto another pathway, and then left, finally revealing a beautifully decorated pond.

"Ah, there you are, my prince!" Miss Kim had been blocking your view of the third presence, marching towards the pond. You let her move ahead, allowing her to approach the Prince on her own, "The Y/L/Ns are here… your mother strictly told you that you should be there to greet them."

Still a voice with no face, you hear him reply, "I'm sorry, I lost track of time… I'm feeding the fish!" There was a moment of silence as the Prince went to stand up, finally revealing the frame of his body to you. He turns to face your direction. His head was kept down as he dusted off the dirt from his pants.

"Do I have time to chan–" The Prince finally noticed you standing yards away from him and Miss Kim, causing him to halt abruptly in his words, "–ge?"

"Your parents have ordered for you two to get acquainted," Miss Kim stated, "I assume I will be the one to call you both shortly for dinner." At this, she turns to hurry back, leaving you and the Prince alone.

He bows stiffly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jisung."

He bowed… that's a good indication of manners, right? You curtsy, "I'm Y/N."

"I know who you are," he says happily, beginning to walk back towards the main path. You follow, "You know they call you the 'Snow Princess' here? Which I don't understand because the mountains aren't always filled with snow." He looks back to see if you followed him, "Do you mind if we drop our titles with each other? We are at the same standing."

"I don't mind," you replied. You're taken aback at his apparent tendency to talk, "We are arranged to marry in a few years…."

"Well, Y/N," he begins, a bright smile on his face, "How should we begin?"

You watch as he advances forward, hands swinging carelessly, something you were taught never to do. As a princess, you were taught to cross your hands in front of you to give you a poised appearance. Jisung had a hop in his step, his posture could be straighter, and his hair was unkempt. You could already say that Yeji's brother, Hyunjin, was probably the opposite of Jisung. He kept himself tidy, he came on time to schedules and never interrupted when another was speaking. This is perhaps what Ryujin meant when she said Jisung was not fit for a king.

"How do you like to spend your time?" You questioned. You figured that this was a way to start a conversation, hoping that it would blossom into another.

Jisung hummed in thought, "If I'm not doing my studies or sleeping, I tend to spend my time here… just deep in thought." He raised his arms, presenting the garden to you.

"You don't go horseback riding? How about practicing swordsmanship?"

He shrugs, "We're short on horses right now, and my father is prioritizing the knights with the horses since they need it. As for swordsmanship, my mother wants me to wait until I'm older."

Short on horses?

"Ahhh, I understand," you nodded awkwardly, "If you ever come to my kingdom, I'll take you horseback riding! You seem like the person who would love doing it."

This sparks a feeling of joy in Jisung, a smile reflecting it, "That would be really nice! I'll look forward to that." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "How about you? How do you spend your time?"

"I do studies, like you… I read, visit the village. Horseback riding, of course… suddenly I can't think once I'm asked," you laughed, "But I'm often very active and doing my duties."

"Your life sounds a lot more interesting than mine," he grins, trying to laugh the sad reality off, "It's evident in the way you can't even list all of your activities." You could see his smile start to falter, bangs falling over his forehead as he looked down at his feet.

You feel your heart stutter, and soon you're frowning. The words you had told the other princesses echoed in your head. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out?

Reaching out, you grab ahold of his wrist. At the sudden contact, he flinched slightly before relaxing at the realization, "You're still happy, aren't you?"

He nods gently, still dwelling on the fact that even though you both stood at the same social standing, his wealth didn't amount to yours, and he couldn't help but be embarrassed. He couldn't help but feel bad you were stuck with him as a future husband when it was quite obvious you could do better.

"Then that's what matters," you say. A part of you wanted to tell him not to compare his life to others, but you stopped yourself, refraining from creating emphasis on your wealth and his supposed slight lack of it.

At your exchange of glances and sympathetic smiles, the footsteps of Miss Kim grew closer. Looking over, you see as she's waving you both over for dinner. Jisung nodded and held up a thumbs up to indicate that you both were going to follow, sending Miss Kim back to tend to the meal.

Jisung turns to once more, "Thank you, Y/N. I'll live by that."

–

"So?"

Yeji, Hyunjin, and Lia sat around the table, eyeing you as if you owed them something of great importance. You stared back at them, straightening your back as you become aware of the attention on you.

"Pardon?" What is it that you needed to tell them? You didn't recall promising them any sort of information, nor did you have news to pass on.

"How was your visit to the valley region?" Lia questioned, "Was it all as they say it was?"

Yeji leaned towards you, "And Prince Jisung? Was he ill-mannered?"

You mentally bring a hand to your forehead, comprehending what it was they were expecting from you. You assume they wanted you to traduce the Han family and their kingdom. But despite the obvious difference in wealth they had from the rest of the kingdoms and the fact that Jisung lacked the training he needed as a prince, you found no problems in the Han family.

"Their castle was unique," you begin, "It was beautiful, actually." You use a fork to poke into the sliced fruit laid out on a plate, bringing it to your mouth as you wait for their reactions. As anticipated, puzzled looks rose up onto their faces, rather confused about your comment. You continue, "The interior was beautiful as well. Not as extravagant as the Hwang family's castle, but it was still a sight to look at. It was adorned with flowers.

"As for Prince Jisung," you could feel some sense of protection over him, biting back your tongue from saying rude things to those in front of you, "He's just as much a prince as Hyunjin. He's playful and carefree, is all. So I hope you all should refrain from listening to the gossip being spread about the Han family, especially since they're going to be part of my family in the future." The three of them sat back and nodded. You wished you could laugh at the embarrassed and apologetic looks on their faces, but to their eyes, that would not be very polite of you.

ii.

It wasn't until two years later that Jisung had been actually able to visit your kingdom. Though you did enjoy visiting his kingdom and enjoying the change in scenery, having him come to yours was something you had wished for ever since you met him.

Over the past two years of getting to know each other, you had grown much closer than you initially expected. Jisung had a view on life that contrasted to yours in more ways than one, and learning of the different perspectives of the world allowed you to adopt an open mind. You believe that he made you a better princess and future Queen.

Likewise, Jisung has been able to get a taste of what a typical royal life is like through you. Though his family was still able to experience the everyday duties and privilege of being royalty, there were limitations when it came to his position. Through you, he could at least understand what other things were expected of him. As he grew physically, he grew mentally, learning to appear princely in front of others without completely stripping the playful personality he had around those close to him.

Regardless of what others did say about the Han family, the relationship between you both worked well in all sorts of ways. You would always think about what Jisung's mother had told your parents, how you both were brought together by fate, and in that sense, you guys were meant to be partners.

"Ready to ride horses?" You had a mischievous grin on your face as you pulled the boy behind you.

"Why are you smiling as if the horses could kill me?" Jisung eyed you suspiciously, genuinely afraid of what could happen next. He stumbled over his own feet as he followed you, scared yet excited.

You laughed, "I mean, they can, but they won't."

The two of you finally arrived at the stable, catching Seungmin placing the saddles onto the horses. He greeted you and Jisung with a bow before speeding up in doing his task.

"I promise you, I won't let you get hurt in any way," you say. You asked Seungmin to bring the horse out for Jisung, who refused to guide the horse without experience, "You'll get the hang of it. Watch me get on and do the same."

He nods, listening to every single syllable of your words. Setting your left foot onto the stirrup, you grab hold of the saddle and heave yourself up after a couple of bounces on your right foot. You swing your leg over your horse, Blizz, with ease, quickly making yourself comfortable on the horse.

"That… that can't be too hard…." Jisung muttered. He mirrors what you previously did, setting his foot onto the stirrup and grabbing hold of the top of the saddle. You watched as he bounces countlessly on his right foot, unable to find the right time to pull himself up.

"Do you need help, Prince Jisung?" Seungmin questioned. You almost forgot that he was standing aside because of how amused you had grown in watching Jisung.

Jisung shook his head, mentally shooing Seungmin away as he finally times everything right and heaves himself up. Forgetting to throw his leg over the horse's, Buran, body, for a brief moment, Jisung's body had been doing over the horse, hovering as his foot stuck to the stirrup.

"Sung, throw your leg over!" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. You shouldn't even laugh, as he barely rides horses, but you couldn't help but find the situation hysterical. Jisung was close to panicking, but right when he was going to back off of the horse, he finally found the courage to build momentum to swing his leg over.

"I did it!" He gasped. Jisung shifted slightly on the saddle to make himself comfortable, a proud and bright smile on his face.

"You're a natural!" You tease. You let Blizz move closer to Buran, mirroring Jisung's smile widely, "It's actually difficult getting on horses. I'm surprised you didn't have much trouble."

"Of course," he joked, winking, "I'm me."

You playfully hit his shoulder before going over the ways he was supposed to guide his horse. He listened carefully, never seeming to blink for the next ten minutes of your brief lesson, "I won't go any faster than this." You rode circles around Jisung, keeping your attention directly on him. Judging by the expression on his face, he was nervous to begin moving, "Are you ready?"

Jisung nods confidently, gesturing for you to go ahead of him so that he can follow.

"I'm staying beside you," you told him.

You both started off slow, following a man-made path that circled your family's castle. Jisung had great control of Buran, though his knuckles were white from the grip had on its reins. You assure him that he was okay, that Buran was well trained and would not go out of control even with the most hectic of occurrences.

"Are you sure you haven't ridden before?" You questioned, "Wanna speed up a little bit?"

He nods, "Not so quick, though… I want to ease into it." You nod understandingly as you both begin to speed up. He follows you, heart pounding at the possibility that Buran would not understand his controls, "I've ridden once before, but my father was the one controlling the horse… He let me hold onto the reins, but that was about it."

"How long ago was that?"

"When I was about five."

Making plenty of rounds around the castle, you decide to divert down the path down to the edge of the town. Jisung followed you, even moving slightly ahead, "Your kingdom is beautiful, Y/N."

"I could say that about yours, Sung," you catch up to him and let your gaze fall onto Jisung. The gentle breeze softly brushed through his hair, exposing his forehead. You could tell that he was slowly growing used to the feeling of riding. You figured that speaking to him was a great distraction from the nerves.

He smiles at the mention of his home before shaking his head, "Oh hush… this is about you." He returns your gaze, snickering once he gets a proper look at you. Despite you both being on horses, the space between you both would have been considered close.

"What's so funny?"

He reaches forward and picks out a leaf that had flown into your hair, "Since when did you get so messy?" Letting the leaf fly out of his hand, he winks jokingly at you, causing you to almost fall off Blizz.

"I've always been messy," you rolled your eyes. At the sight of the town, you advanced faster, making sure that Jisung was comfortable without your guidance, "The only reason my bedroom is not cave-like is because of the caretakers."

Jisung won't say it out loud, but somehow, flaws such as this made him fall harder for you. Though you appeared to fit how princesses should be, the more he learned about you, the more he understood that you were just as human as any of those he ruled and you ruled.

"Do you want to stop by the bakery before returning to the castle?" You turned back to look at Jisung, who had chosen to fall back slightly just to catch a glimpse of you, "You can meet Mr. Yang! He'll love you!"

Jisung nodded and trailed closely behind you, ensuring that he wouldn't lose you, not that he actually would lose you. The town's buildings grew closer, the townspeople walking to and from them.

It was nice to see the attire and the architecture of those who lived in your region. Compared to Jisung's region, where people often wore sleeveless or short sleeves, the people wore longer sleeves and thin layers. Though the weather was not at all bad, he figured that they had grown used to this type of weather and generally wanted to dress warmer. The buildings were built on top of platforms that separated the actual structure from the ground, probably to avoid the permafrost during colder days.

"We're here," you turned back, noticing the awe in Jisung's expression. He shook the look off and smiled, slowing the speed of his steed just as u had, "I wonder if Jeongin is in! I've known him since I was younger."

Jisung took time to hop off his horse before dusting off his trousers to make himself look presentable. You were ensuring that the horses were tied tightly at a nearby post, waiting for Jisung to join you. Once he had done so, you both made your way into a large building, the name of the bakery on the front: Yang-Yum Bakery.

"Mr. Yang!"

"Princess! Welcome!" An older man had his head raised over the counter, a deep smile on his face, "And is this Prince Jisung?" He stood up straight and bowed, "Welcome to my bakery. Princess Y/N has told me so much about you!"

Jisung felt his ears warm up before smiling back, "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Yang."

The baker kept the smile on his face as he moved down the counter towards his baked goods, "What would you like? It is on me today as a welcome gift to the Prince."

Jisung's eyes widened at the selection of goods, his mouth watering at how good they all looked. He could hear you thanking Mr. Yang, "Is Jeongin helping out today?"

"Unfortunately not, Princess. He's out doing errands for Mrs. Yang," Mr. Yang retorted. You nodded understandingly before turning your attention down towards the treats. You spot your favourite ones, the meringue cookies, and then the honey-bread, a close second.

"What do you want, Sung?" You questioned quietly, gesturing to Mr. Yang the two choices, "You'll probably enjoy any of them." You could see his eyes moving back and forth across the options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'd like those," Jisung points towards egg tarts, "And those, please." His finger pointed towards strawberry cream croissants, a satisfied look appearing on his face.

"Coming right up," Mr. Yang smiled and prepped the baked goods for you and Jisung, tying them into a cloth bag. He pushed it towards you with a warm smile, "I hope you enjoy them all. See you, Princess. It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jisung." He bowed and softly waved.

You and Jisung bowed back before taking your leave. Soon you both were back outside, people still carrying out their duties. They had not noticed that you were present, which you did not really mind. It was nice not being the center of attention once in a while. And while Jisung was here, you didn't want the usual fuss that occurred when you visited the village.

Speaking too soon, a younger girl noticed your attire, immediately indicating that you were a royal. She smiled and curtsied, "Afternoon, princess."

"Afternoon," you smiled back.

At that small exchange, others followed in pursuit, also noticing the presence of the Prince next to you. And because they did recognize him, you couldn't help but take note of the fact that people were whispering, which wasn't what usually occurred when you were in town.

Upon hearing Jisung's name in their hushed remarks, your ears perked, miraculously gaining the ability to hear the words they spoke, "Isn't that the Prince of the valley? The poorer kingdom."

"Yes… you can tell just from how he's dressed."

Shaking your head, you tune out the insults being 'secretly' thrown towards Jisung, who, judging by the look on his face, could also hear them talk. It was sad how people were so quick to judge.

"This is Prince Jisung," you say confidently, "The one who I will marry in a few years' time… I ask that you respect him as much as you respect my father."

They shut their mouths, bowing to follow what you had asked of them. Jisung's gaze fell onto you, hundreds of thoughts rooted from different beliefs clashing inside his head. The people had dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

Though you smiled at him, he couldn't help but feel bad that you had to stand up for him. Every time someone mentioned the wealth of his kingdom, he couldn't have but believed you deserved better, especially because there was a drastic difference between your family's wealth and his family's wealth.

Y/N shouldn't be going through this…

"Should we get going?" You questioned, "There are more things I want to show you." You acted so casually about such a situation that Jisung could sense that you've already been in a position. Just how many times have you stood up for him?

Though the idea should be giving him a sense of comfort, he still felt as though he should be doing something in return. Securing yourselves back on the horses, you begin making your way back to the castle. There was a short period of silence before Jisung had spoken up, "You don't need to defend me, you know. But thank you."

You glance over at him and frown, "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you… And as your future wife, it is my duty to defend you. Besides, if it were the other way around, you would do the same."

That night, Jisung couldn't help but let the words play over in his head. You were right. He would do the same for you, but it was because he adored you. Did this mean that you felt the same?

"Part Two"

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 3 - ao3 -

The closing ceremony of the discussion conference was dignified and serene, as appropriate for an event hosted by the Lan sect, and after it was done everyone milled around to chat a little more before starting to break off into groups to leave.

The leaders of the Great Sects naturally gathered together.

They were an unusual mix. Wen Ruohan was the eldest by an entire generation, technically hailing from the generation of Lan Qiren’s grandfather even if his extraordinary cultivation made him seem as young as Lan Qiren’s brother; after him there was Lan Qiren’s father and the Jiang sect leader, Jiang Menglin, who themselves were a generation above their younger counterparts from the Nie and Jin clans – Jin Guangshan especially, having only inherited his position in the past year.

Lan Qiren’s brother stood beside them, speaking with them with his head held high. Their father planned to slowly transition sect leadership to him over the next half-decade so that he himself might be allowed to retire from the mundane world to focus on cultivation, as Lan An ultimately did. In accordance with that plan, he had allowed him to take the lead on hosting certain small events at the discussion conference, like the night-hunting.

Lan Qiren was there, too.

He was lurking as far to the back of the platform as he could get, trying simultaneously to perfectly reflect his sect’s expectations for proper behavior while also doing his utmost to remain beneath anyone’s notice – Lao Nie had caught his gaze at one point and winked, a friendly older man’s indulgence of a junior, but that was in large part unavoidable given the man’s gregarious personality – and enjoying the rare moment in which he could see his father at something other than a distance.

He usually only saw his father when he was brought before him to report on his achievements, typically once a month. When he was younger, he had been accompanied by one of his teachers, who would report on him while Lan Qiren anxiously examined his father’s face for signs of approval; now that he was older, he went by himself, dipping into a deep salute as he recited anything of interest, and sometimes if he really exerted himself his father would reward him with a word of praise.

Lan Qiren was only allowed to stand with the rest of them on the basis of a technicality – his father hadn’t officially transferred power to his eldest son and wouldn’t for a while yet, so he had brought along both of them on the transparent excuse that they could provide company for Jin Guangshan and Lao Nie as members of the same generation. It was very much a technicality in Lan Qiren’s case, given his much younger age; he fell on the very tail end of their generation on account of the circumstances of his belated birth.

Lan Qiren’s birth was very late to allow him to be considered a peer to those a decade or more older than him, in fact, but that was the way of things.

He was a child of duty, rather than pleasure.

His parents had been very much in love, as was the Lan sect’s way, and together they had had two sons and a daughter within six years, each one of them deeply beloved. But perhaps their joy had been too complete, because the heavens had not permitted it to last: they lost their younger son and daughter both – one to an unexpected illness, the other to an accident. Their eldest, Lan Qiren’s brother, was still there, but it would have been irresponsible to have only a single heir to a Great Sect. Accordingly, under great pressure from the sect elders, they had sought to have another child, only to fail time and time again, enduring countless miscarriages and stillbirths alike.

There had even been some debate as to whether such a situation permitted the sect leader to take on a concubine, regardless of custom or even his own wishes. Desperate to prevent such a result, Lan Qiren’s mother had inadvisedly taken certain drugs to encourage conception and at last Lan Qiren had been successfully born in a slow and bloody labor that had sapped his mother’s already poor health. She had died a few years later, suffering a recurrence of the infection left behind from his birth. Lan Qiren had been too young to really remember her, but he knew that his brother had blamed him for her loss ever since.

He sometimes wondered if his father did, too.

Of course, unlike his brother, his father had never said as much. As the Lan sect leader, he was graceful and refined, educated and reserved, a venerable and venerated cultivator; it was widely agreed that he would never have planned to retire so early if it hadn’t been for losing his true love all those years ago. Perhaps he might even have been another Wen Ruohan, seemingly ageless, striving for immortality – at any rate, he would never be so petty as to mistreat a person due to the circumstances beyond their control. It was something he had heard that his father had said from one of the other Lan sect juniors, and at any rate it was in the rules, and Lan Qiren believed in the rules.

Besides, it wasn’t a surprise that Lan Qiren would be an afterthought in comparison to his brother, the already famous Qingheng-jun, who his father treasured like a pearl cupped in his palm. His brother was the much-anticipated first child of his father’s happy youth, the reminder of good days gone by, a child who had survived the misfortunes that had taken his siblings, and Lan Qiren’s brother repaid his father’s adoration with strength, intelligence, and endless potential. He was a cultivation maniac, yet good at managing the other juniors; he was cold and aloof, elegant, yet capable of being personable and even charming when needed. He was one of the shining stars of his generation, already a powerful cultivator and a respected gentleman even though he’d only just passed twenty-one. Even the name which he was commonly called, Qingheng-jun, was a rarity, a personal title unusual in this peaceful day and age.

Lan Qiren, in contrast, was slow and clumsy, with only average cultivation skills and positively dire social skills. While his teachers praised his strong academic skills and musical talent, the Lan sect followed first and foremost the orthodox path of swordsmanship; once his weakness in that area had been discovered, many of his sect elders lost interest in him as anything other than the inferior back-up plan that he was.

Undoubtedly that was why, when Wen Ruohan turned to Lan Qiren’s father and said, “Your son is a credit to you,” everyone assumed he was talking about Qingheng-jun.

“Sect Leader Wen does him too much honor,” their father said, clearly pleased despite his deprecating words. After all, Wen Ruohan, Sect Leader Wen, was well known to be extraordinarily sparing with his praise for any who didn’t share his bloodline or surname. “My unworthy son is still young and foolish. His eyes are always fixed upon cultivation, never straying – he doesn’t even spare time for girls, despite his advancing years!”

The other sect leaders were smiling, and Lao Nie already opening his mouth to say something teasing, when Wen Ruohan said, “I meant your other son.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t prepared at all for all the sect leaders to turn to look at him.

He shrunk back.

“Qiren?” his father said, almost as if he were checking to confirm that that was the right name, a trace of doubt in his voice even as Lan Qiren’s brother’s face went white with humiliation. “I didn’t realize you’d had a chance to hear him play.”

“Regrettably I have not yet had that pleasure,” Wen Ruohan said, a slightly strange expression on his face. “We merely exchanged some charming conversation, that’s all. Is that his most notable skill?”

“His accomplishments as a musical cultivator are sufficient to rank him among the adults of his already talented sect,” Lao Nie volunteered when there was a brief pause, and Lan Qiren’s father was quick to smile and nod along. “You missed out, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Perhaps another time,” Wen Ruohan said, his return smile still strange and almost subtly displeased, though Lan Qiren would hardly trust himself to know for sure.

At that point, Jiang Menglin spoke up, changing the subject, and most everyone joined in, all of them evidently relieved – not least of all Lan Qiren himself, who had started wondering if there was some way he could become invisible or else fall into a deep chasm that might conveniently open up beneath his feet.

Nothing more was said on the subject until the ceremony was done and the last of their guests departed, when Lan Qiren’s brother tracked him down and hissed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Lan Qiren cried out. “We only talked!”

“You mean you talked at him the way you always do – ”

Their father cleared his throat, having come up behind them, and they both turned at once and dropped into deep salutes.

“Do not think about it too much,” he said, voice distant as the cold wind on a winter night. “Sect Leader Wen sometimes likes to make trouble for the sake of making trouble, especially if he thinks he has found a weakness. You will need to be on your guard against that when you are sect leader.”

He was talking to Lan Qiren’s brother, of course. Lan Qiren could count, and had, the number of times his father addressed him directly in a given year, but it was only reasonable – he wasn’t the heir, doomed to take on the burden of leadership, and so there was much less his father needed to say to him.

“Yes, Father,” his brother said. “I’ll remember.”

“Do not trouble your younger brother over nonsense.”

Lan Qiren felt his brother’s angry gaze like a flame against his skin, even if it wasn’t anywhere as weighty as Wen Ruohan’s. He did not understand what he had done wrong, whether to Wen Ruohan to decide to make trouble using his name or to his brother now that had made him angry, but that wasn’t so much different from the usual.

“Very well, Father,” his brother said. “I won’t.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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aggressivelyclueless · 3 years ago

Text

autopsy

in which the cause of death is brought into question

contains: some really shady shit

warning: corpse details

tie-in to the polishing-up/expansion/completion of wes’ wonderful life of doom. i swear the finished and good version will make it to ao3 eventually

The body was found the next morning under the Knife River bridge. Washed up on the rocks, skin all pale and slippery and half-sloughed-off, white tee battered and stained red - perhaps the most startling part was that the head was gone. By the time the county police hauled it out and took it away to the examiner, the bloody stump of its neck was bloated and fish-eaten.

Not a lot of dead came through in bad shape like that anymore, Rupert Gordon said. He was a twig of a man, nearly bald and never once seen by his peers without a cigarette clamped between his teeth. He was also the only one that could stomach the worst of the worst; he liked to tell the story of the murder victim from '87 that had all their organs scooped out, ground up, and then put back in (and yet he wondered why everyone he knew had learned not to invite him to any more dinner parties).

To him, it was just another fucked-up body on the table.

This time around, the body told him: murder. The missing head had a lot to do with that; there wasn’t a lot else it usually turned out to be, and at least that poor fuck had died pretty quick. Gordy was done with the mess and had cleaned up, and then it was back into his office to turn the notes in his bloodstained book into a proper written report.

The knock at the door was, to put it lightly, unexpected. Gordy looked over, staring hard for a moment as if he expected to see through the wood paneling. "One moment," he said finally, spinning his chair around and rolling himself over to the door.

"Mister Rupert Gordon?"

Oh, that sounded like a fed. He looked like one, too - stark-white pressed suit, and he held himself so stiffly that Gordy got the impression that he might have been afflicted with rigor mortis.

"Yes, that’s me,” said Gordy. It was the one time that he excused being addressed by the full name; in truth, it sat ill with him, he wasn't about to make this interaction any longer than it needed to be.

"Is this a good time?" said the fed, although Gordy knew that it was less of a question that it was made out to be.

He rolled back, reaching over and hitting save on the half-written report. "Can I help you?"

"I understand you're the one on the headless case." Right to the point. Good - then he wouldn't waste too much time.

Gordy nodded. "Correct. I take it you're on the investigation?"

"And the autopsy?"

He hadn't even made an effort to answer - which told Gordy he'd be a proper pain in the ass if pressed. So he wasn’t going to press.

"Finished. The short version would cost you extra, otherwise the report will be out in the morning." Gordy shrugged. It was an old habit, slipping early details to a scoop-hungry reporter or a cop on a deadline, but they routinely coughed up for it. Even after decades, they still did; all those days back in Chicago felt like pocket change compared to here.

"I see," said the fed, "One Daniel James Fenton - and the cause of death reads suicide, doesn't it?"

That wasn't really a question, either. Gordy hesitated, internally reconfiguring the interaction; then he slowly shook his head. "I'll have you know I'm not a liar," he said carefully, "I can't simply - "

The fed held up a hand. "I only want the facts seen to, Mister Gordon. You'd do well not to contradict them."

"Suicide," said Gordy faintly, trying to gauge exactly how far over his head this went all of a sudden. His conclusion: pretty far. "You're sure."

The fed nodded solemnly.

"And I won't be responsible if - "

"I assure you, Mister Gordon. You will not."

Gordy thought about it for a good long moment, tilting his head from one side to the other. How in the hell could he pull off a report like that? It wasn't feasible; anybody with a head and a brain would know that. The whole thing stank of rotten fish, in his opinion.

But, then again, he was the one that could stomach anything.

"Well, I suppose I might have overlooked some minor details," he said, with a sigh and a shrug, "I'll have to go through the notes again and double-check."

"That would be best," said the fed, "and rest assured that you will be compensated for your time."

That only made the fish-reek worse, but Gordy no longer cared. The deal was made. The fed extended a hand and, a little numb, Gordy shook it.

"We appreciate your cooperation." Then he was gone.

Gordy sat back at his desk again, finding a fresh cigarette to stick into his mouth and staring blankly at the report he'd started. Suicide was one hell of a stretch, but he could do it. Daniel James Fenton. The name had been mentioned deliberately, and he wasn’t going to forget it. He wondered what that guy could possibly have done to end up like that, but ultimately decided he didn't want to know. It really wasn't his business.

Except, of course, for the ten-thousand-dollars that showed up in his checking account the next day.

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt Trick #Ectober Week 2021 #ectoberweek2021 #danny phantom #fanfiction #ectober

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arknights-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

GOD that mostima post had me FEELING things. I'm glad I'm not the only one who appreciates mostima a lot wahhh ; v ; i was wondering if maybe you could do a mostima/doctor after their established relationship when one of them has got injured or smth? :o I feel like with her belief that she can't hold warmth having to provide it in a dire situation would be an interesting challenge for mostima, and likewise being on the receiving end of it in a situation like that too for her!!

(It's good to be back!!! 😭🥳)

Aaaa tysm anon! 😭🥺 I'm glad you like my stuff on Mostima haha 👉👈 tbh she's grown a lot on me since I've started this blog!! 💕 She's very underappreciated 🥺 Anywho, thanks for the request and I hope I did Mostima justice here~ 🌸

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Easing Worry

Imagine format; no fixed perspective!

Contains: Mostima, reader as the Doctor, gender neutral Doctor/no gender mentioned, established relationship, a few background characters, very brief mentions of an explosions and injuries, fluff with the tiniest bit of angst, Mostima having to deal with her emotions 👉👈

Word count: just over 2k!

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

“Mostima, come in! Mostima!!”

Static was all that came in reply despite the amount of times you called out into the communications link. Frustrated, you sighed sharply and watched the blink of the Caster’s tracker on the map of the ruins displayed on the screen before yourself, Amiya and Texas.

Mostima had been dispatched on an Operation to some old city ruins in Kazedel for a Mission; Unfortunately, you couldn’t accompany the Squad she was sent out with, and thanks to her lone wolf nature the Caster strayed from the other Operators who were with her. She must’ve run into trouble soon after, because when you had tried advising her to return to her Squad members through the comms-link, all that came in reply was a commotion and then silence.

“...That’s not good.” Texas’ tone wasn't very telling, but her furrowed brows and tight jaw read unease. From beside you, Amiya spoke up, “Doctor, what would you like to do?”

Mostima’s tracker was still active, which meant she must’ve been alive - still, the pit of worry in your stomach didn't fade in the slightest. When you didn't reply, Amiya decided to take the lead, “We should wait a little while longer. Maybe Ms. Mostima will get back to us…”

You had your rapt attention on the screen before you, and so when no protest from you came, everyone did as Amiya said. Even after some time passed, the tracker didn't move and nothing came through the communications link.

From her spot at another console nearby, Closure huffed loudly, “...our drones can't find her.” When you turned to look at her, she went on, “Doctor, Mostima is definitely alive down there but… we can't see her from up here, and I have no idea what happened.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and you fell silent; within seconds the worry began eating at your insides, soon creating a suffocating tension around your heart. The thought of something happening to Mostima made you feel ill - more ill than any sickness had ever made you feel.

Amiya spoke in your place again, “P-Perhaps we should send someone. I’ll call one of our other Operators and we can create a plan-” “No, I’ll go.” Everyone's heads snapped to you right away, their faces filled with consternation and slight surprise. As was expected, Amiya shook her head right away, “Doctor, it isn't safe down there-” Though difficult, you shook your head and replied as calmly as you can manage; if it wasn't safe for you, then Mostima was in grave danger and needed to be extracted right away.

Amiya seemed conflicted - however, everyone was well aware of how much Mostima meant to you, and how much you meant to her. Your relationship was common knowledge around Rhodes Island by that point. And so, though she was worried for your safety, the Chimera nodded and stepped in front of the map displayed on the screen to take your place, “Alright, got it. I trust you, Doctor - bring Ms. Mostima back safe and sound!”

Not wishing to waste any time, you began heading straight towards the door of the aircraft; your heart pounded almost deafeningly in your ears as you outfitted yourself with proper protective care and a parachute. Closure opened the aircraft door, and you stepped close to the edge with one thought in your mind;

‘Please be okay, Mostima.’

…

The expanse of ruined land was silent; the heavy scent of sulfur and ash was carried in the air, and the dust from the building collapse was only just settling. Convinced that they had successfully killed any threat, the Reunion soldiers took their leave - the aircraft that was hovering over them couldn't mean good news on their end.

Unable to move, Mostima groaned quietly - she had only just regained consciousness, what happened? She didn't quite remember right then. Some sort of heavy weight is putting pressure on her whole body, especially her legs and chest. As she attempted to open her eyes, pain spread throughout her skull like a flood and forced her to screw them shut again. Somewhat paralyzed under whatever was holding her down, the Caster stayed lying on the ground, taking in shallow breaths.

When her ears began to stop ringing, the sound of footsteps followed by a voice calling her name caused Mostima to snap back into reality once more. ‘....Doctor?’; That was right, she was on an Operation you assigned her to, but something had gone wrong along the way. Had you come looking for her?

Finally, she found her strength; it wasn't much, however. Wincing as she moved her body, the Caster lifted her arms and began forcing up the rubble that was pinning her form down as best she could. Your voice tore through the air again - “Mostima!” - and your quickened footsteps neared her. You assisted her in lifting the remnants of the exploded building off her body, insisting that she tried to move as little as possible as you removed the rest of the rubble from her body.

Moaning a little in pain, Mostima shakily shifted her body until she was sat with her back against one of the pieces of debris you had helped lift off her. With the adrenaline now gone, pain began filling her body in so many places that even breathing began to sting; and yet, when you had given your attention to her, her usual soft smile played on the Caster’s lips.

You knelt beside her right away, hands hovering over her form, “Mostima, are you okay?” Grinning still, she managed a nod, “Doctor, hello to you too…” Though she tried, she was unable to bite back the pained wince she made as she lifted her arm to wave at you. Your eyebrows knitted together and your face twisted in a frown - and yet Mostima was smiling at you still.

“What happened?” Your hand had come to cup her cheek, but she shook her head before her fingers could rest on her skin; no matter how much time you two spent together, it seemed her instinct was still to reject any affection you wished to give her. Avoiding your gaze, she began to explain, “During the Operation, the Squad got ambushed. Hm, our guys were actually doing well, we had almost taken care of all of them.” A small sigh bridged her sentences, “But just as things were wrapping up, I saw a few of the Reunion trying to make an escape. I figured that was no good, so I went after them...haha, I guess I walked right into their trap, because the next thing I knew I was under all that rubble.”

While she had been talking, your hands were pressing and running over parts of her body checking for injuries; something seemed to be impeding your thoughts, however, because though you were supposed to be scanning for wounds, your eyes were staring at the ground. Were you upset?

Hoping to lighten the mood, Mostima spoke once again, This time a strained laugh left her, “Ahaha...sorry, I still really don’t get this whole ‘teamwork’ thing.” Immediately, you shook your head, “No… don’t worry, I’m not mad.” She lifted a bow at you.

Your eyes finally looked up from the ground and you reached into the bag you were carrying, unearthing bandages and a clean cloth. The Caster fell quiet as she allowed you to cover the scrapes and cuts on her arms - your touch was so gentle, you touched her as if she was made of precious glass. You took the cloth in your hand then lifted it to her face; this time, however, Mostima didn't shake you off or pull away. Instead, she met your gaze - and what she saw caused her heart to ache.

Your face was riven with worry, only some relief was on your features - probably due to the fact that she was still alive. Mostima’s calm grin faltered, “Doctor….” In all honesty, seeing you so worried over her caused the Caster more pain than any of her injuries did; this wasn't her intention, she didn't mean to panic you to the point that you came down to look for her.

She wasn't used to this, you were both acutely aware of that. Mostima worked alone, Mostima dealt with things alone; before you, every person she held dear was someone she also ended up pushing away. Close bonds - she didn't need them, the Caster told herself, there was no need for them in her line of work. And so she was never raring to work with others, and people she had relationships with barely ever saw her anymore.

But with you, her usual method of pushing away until the other person gave up didn't work. And soon, thanks to your persistence, warmth began blooming in her heart - and she was helpless to stop it.

Unfortunately, Mostima was just as helpless when it came to expressing all the warmth she held for you in her heart. You caused emotions she contended with, and so her first instinct was to pull away or push you back; and that usually just left both of you feeling hurt. The Caster didn't believe in her capacity to encompass love or warmth - but you did.

Finally, Mostima found her voice once more, “Doctor...angel.” She corrected herself, instead using the nickname you rarely ever heard from her. It was mushy, cheesy - and yet butterflies filled your stomach every time she used it. Once she was sure she had your attention, the Caster spoke, trying her absolute best and allowing all of her words to come from her heart, “I’m sorry, I know I must’ve scared you really bad. I didn't mean...to worry you.”

Your face softened at her words; placing the cloth down, your hand found its way to hers. When she interlaced her fingers with your own, you smiled gently. Relieved to see you more at ease, Mostima squeezed your hand as best she could considering her loss of strength before continuing, “Unfortunately - in case you haven't noticed - I’m terrible at this. Haha…you’re really unlucky to have fallen in love with someone like me. I push people away, I push everyone away.” Her smile had gone, and now her face was filled with serious, genuine sincerity. “But I don’t want you to go away, you’re the first person in a long time who I’ve wanted to stay with. And I know I’m not good at showing it…”

Gathering some of her strength, the Caster shut her eyes as she lifted your hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on your fingers. “But my dear Doctor, my sweet angel - I care so much about you. Actually, scratch that... I love you, I love you so much.” And she trailed off, relaxing with her lips on your hand and losing herself in the moment for just a second or two.

It felt indescribably warm to just shut her eyes and pretend it was just you and her in the entirety of Terra. While it was hard to take down all her walls, it was so much better than deflecting your affections and was worth it for the way her heart grew in her chest as she allowed herself and you to be compassionate towards one another.

When your hand moved to cup her cheek, Mostima leaned into your touch rather than pulling away. When her eyes fluttered open, her gaze fell upon your effusive smile; “I love you too, Mostima. I promise I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.” Your words prompted her to chime with a light laugh, “Hehe, I guess there’s no getting rid of you, huh~?” You shook your head in reply - when your grin widened, she couldn't help but mirror the expression.

Facial features softening and becoming sincere, she left another kiss on the inside of your palm, “I’ve never had anyone like you...Sorry if I’m not always cooperative. Thanks for looking after me, Doctor.” A warm, passionate grin came to your face as you replied, “Always, Mostima.”

The area that surrounded the two of you was in a ruinous state, that same heavy scent still hung in the air and injuries were still littered all over Mostima’s body. And yet; upon seeing your smile, her body filled with a heartened feeling.

#🥺🥺 mostima appreciation #arknights #arknights imagines #arknights mostima #arknights x reader #mostima arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing #mostima

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