#do we fight other couples like a battle royale

[dotster001]

Hiii!!! first, before I start I'm very socially awkward and my English sucks so this might be a bit cringe to read... but I just have to say, I LOVE your writing!!! you have such a cool writing style and your way of writing characters is always in character you're just AWESOME!!!! if it's not too much to ask, can I request a fight between all the dorm and vice-dorm heads (just dorm heads is cool too) when they overhear that the reader/MC has a crush (i simp for all of them)? again, love your writing so much!

Battle Royale

A/N: you have no idea how surprised I was that this wasn't the one voted for the last day. 😂 it's fine though, and I hope you enjoy!

3k follower Masterlist

Trein had held you after class today, and you were a little scared, to say the least. You didn't think you or Grim had done anything wrong today, but you could never be too sure.

Once the last student had left, he looked up at you.

"You've been acting odd lately. I've raised two children, and taught thousands of students, so I know why."

You didn't think you'd been acting odd. But you weren't the most self aware out there, if the numerous overblots you'd nearly missed were anything to go by.

"Oh?" You asked.

He sighed heavily, and gently took your hand. 

"You've ingratiated yourself into my heart, like one of my own kids. So I'm going to tell you this; none of the boys at this school is worth the trouble."

"Huh?"

"I don't know which one you have a crush on, but there are less than a handful that deserve the attention."

Your cheeks began to warm, and you gasped. You hadn't thought too deeply about it, but there was definitely someone you'd had your eye on, maybe a bit too much, recently. If Trein had noticed…had he noticed as well?

"I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," he gave you a firm stare, then turned back to his papers.

You were so out of it, that you didn't notice your two friends who had stayed behind for emotional support.

….

"It's definitely me."

"In what world would it ever be you!"

Trey entered the kitchen to check on the bread in the oven, and sighed to himself as he watched the freshmen fight with each other.

"What are you up to?" He asked.

"Nothin-" Deuce muttered, but was cut off by Ace.

"If Y/N had a crush on someone, it'd be me, right?"

Trey stared at the two, then slowly turned to the oven.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked.

"Trein kept Y/N behind today, and told them whoever they have a crush on isn't worth it."

"Hm. And you both think it's you, because?"

Both of them froze. They could hear the challenge in Trey's voice, and neither of them knew how to approach it.

"Well, why wouldn't it be?" Ace snapped. "We hang out with them more than anyone. If it's anybody, it's me or Deucey." 

Trey smiled at the temporary unification of his freshmen, and calmly asked, "Wouldn't it make sense if they went for someone with more life experience? Someone more mature?"

The freshmen were silent again, before Deuce asked, tentatively, "Has…has Y/N said something to you?"

Trey hummed, putting together Riddle's dinner tray.

"No. At least, not verbally."

And then he left the kitchen. He couldn't wipe the soft smile from his face. Riddle noticed it as Trey poured his tea. 

"Did something good happen?"

"Hm? Oh, the freshmen found out Y/N had a crush on someone, and assumed it was one of them. I told them it would probably be someone more mature."

Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "True," he sipped his tea, "Y/N would go for someone more mature, who is someone who was also not that much older than them."

"Oh, you think so?" A challenge.

"Yes." A retort.

….

From there, Riddle took his information to the housewardens meeting, who took it to their vicehousewardens, who in turn spread it to the rest of the school.

In less than a couple hours, Malleus and Leona were literally at each other's throats, as the rest of the school egged them on.

"Y/N has more class than to fall for a mangy housecat!" A bolt of green lightning nearly hit Leona, who dodged at the last second.

"They certainly would never fall for a scaly lizard!" The air around Malleus filled with sand.

"Shouldn't we put a stop to this?" Silver asked Lilia, who was busy restraining Sebek.

"Kids will be kids," Lilia laughed in response.

Ruggie tapped Azul on the shoulder, holding out his open hand. "Five thaumarks to join the pot. Who do you think will win?"

Azul smirked, "Neither, because Y/N is surely in love with me. They've all but said so."

"Sure, sure," Ruggie rolled his eyes. "Because out of everyone they could choose, it would be the person who takes 20% of their tips, and not the person who shares home cooked meals with them."

"I couldn't help but overhear your discussion, boys, but don't fool yourselves. The only person Y/N could possibly fall for would be the embodiment of the fairest Queen," Vil hummed as he passed them, fully intent on stopping the fight which was already well out of hand.

But he was halted by a hand on his wrist. 

"Schoenheit, don't be a silly boy and embarrass yourself," Lilia hummed, his eyes turning more crimson than fuschia. "Besides," he laughed lightly, going back to playful, "rumor has it, Y/N is in love with someone with life experience, something I have more of than anyone else here."

"Sure," Vil muttered at his peer. He was quickly pulled into the fight when he reached them, purple magic joining the sand and emerald lightning.

Rook was watching the fight with wide eyed enthusiasm. His emerald eyes were taking in everything they did, studying their moves for use at…well…a later date. 

Idia's tablet, meanwhile, was focused solely on Rook, the terror practically radiating from it. It was muted, but if it wasn't, people would have heard Ortho hyping him up. But Idia did not want to fight the hunter. Not with the way his eyes were glittering with blood lust.

Jade was about to prevent Floyd from elbow slamming his way into the fight, when all the boys were forcibly separated by an unknown force. All eyes traveled to Trein, who was staring at them all in disgust.

"Animals. The lot of you," he snarled, staring everyone down. "Anyone involved in any way will be punished accordingly."

….

"Why did Professor Trein keep you behind today?" Asked Jack, who was blissfully unaware of the war going on. He had offered to help you study after class, and had been curious as to why he'd beat you to Ramshackle.

"Oh," you hesitated. "Well, he noticed I'd been behaving odd lately, and told me to be careful."

"Y/N's in love, and teach said no one was good enough!"

"Grim!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"Oh," Jack said, trying to be as cool as possible. "Who is it?"

You peaked through your fingers, opening and shutting your mouth a few times.

"If you don't tell him, I will," Grim snickered.

"Don't," you whined. You took a steadying breath, and began, "Okay. It's…"

[picaroroboto]

For the past couple days, I've been unfortunately cursed with thinking about Zenos yae Galvus. I don't even particularly like him - not that I dislike him either, Zenosfuckers you can put your scythes down - but it seems to me like a lot of the fandom either greatly misunderstands him, or doesn't even care to try to understand him, which from an objective standpoint as someone who cares deeply about writing in video games kind of pisses me off. But I'm more pissed about the fact that I'm apparently going to keep thinking about this issue until I actually write a character analysis of him.

Q: "But, what even is there to analyze with him? Isn't he all about wanting to fight the WoL and nothing else?"

Well, you wouldn't be wrong with saying that. That motivation is at the forefront of his character, and even if you look closer, everything about him comes back to either "violence" or "lack of understanding of others". But there are more meaningful sides to his deceptively simple character. That question of meaning is what I really want to look into - what does his character mean, what symbolic or thematic role does he play in this story?

Q: "Better question: why are you posting this on your art blog/Fate meta sideblog?"

Good question, with a stupid answer: I have all of 6 followers on my FF14 sideblog, and around 150 here. Let's go under the cut so they don't have to read a wall of text, unless they want to.

When you look at and compare FF14's villains, you can see a very clear change, no doubts thanks to the change in main writers. ARR Gaius and Thordan are more or less two-bit villains - Gaius's memeable iconic Praetorium speech gives us insight into how fascists try to justify themselves but little into Gaius's actual personality, while all Thordan gets as far as depth of character is an NPC in a sidequest remarking that he wasn't always a bad person and was probably doing what he thought best for his nation. Nidhogg is a little more understandable, since revenge is a relatable motivation to anyone who's been hurt by others. In Stormblood, Zenos and Yotsuyu are both presented as deserving of pity even as they do terrible things. Come Shadowbringers and Endwalker though, the story takes a greater interest on why villains like Emet-Selch and Elidibus do the things they do, and the player is allowed more options to try to understand them and see how similar they are to the WoL. Hell, Hermes and the Endsinger are barely "villains" at all, with the level of sympathy the story shows them.

What I'm getting to here is that Zenos, with half his arc in Stormblood and the rest in Endwalker, is sort of caught in the middle of this shift. He played the role of the rival character in Stormblood really well, but come Endwalker, he's standing on a stage full of heroes and villains with grand causes and deep motivations, as the guy whose sole motivation is fighting for pleasure.

It seems he's not unaware of this contrast himself - when Jullus confronts him for ruining Garlemald for no good reason, he retorts with "Would you be happier had I a good reason?" Zenos makes no attempt to justify his own actions and doesn't care that his reason seems incomprehensible and unforgivable to others. Yet in that same cutscene Alisaie hits him with the fact that if he keeps living solely for pleasure, he'll die alone. When next we see Zenos, he's alone at the Royal Menagerie waxing philosophical about what he really sought in the battle with the WoL.

See, what really motivates Zenos isn't just the thrill of battle - this guy has gotten Battle High and the joy of human connection confused. Really.

Even before he gets so perturbed by the idea of dying alone, there's other suggestions, like his proposal of friendship to the WoL when they fought in Stormblood, and then later his dying words in which he explains that he never understood others - at his core, he's just lonely. I know there's an official side story that tells it, but you don't need to know the exact details to glean that he had some sort of tragic backstory. Sad, but not a surprise, considering he's the prince of the Garlean Empire, raised to take the throne and continue the Empire's legacy of violence.

At his core, he's a very lonely person, but also a thing of violence, raised using violent methods for the purpose of causing more violence. Violence is how he lives and breathes - the only way he gets any sort of connection with others in a world of hurting and being hurt is the brief connection warriors dueling as equals can sometimes find. Don't deny that this sort of connection exists - FF14 is great at making fights that are both fun and tell a story. Hence, why he goes crazy for the WoL, but also refers to them as "friend". In their fights, he senses (or thinks he senses) similarity between him and them. Beneath all the madness is a pure, genuine joy in seeing the self reflected in the other...but he also instantly gets on the train to projection-town, population Zenos, and assumes the WoL is exactly like him, ignoring or failing to notice that they also fight for deeper meanings. The worst part is, he doesn't even notice that what he's actually seeking in fighting them is connection until Alisaie's aforementioned callout.

So he goes and angsts for a while, then turns into a dragon again and flies across the universe to help us kick the Endsinger's tail feathers, then issues his challenge for that duel he'd been longing for. But what's changed is that he starts with a question - "Such pleasures you sought for their own sake, and for no other reason, is that not so?". Dying after the duel, he's full of questions too: "Was your life a gift or a burden? Did you find fulfillment?" Alisaie's suggestion that he'd die alone actually spurred him to realize what he actually sought in the WoL, and now he's asking all these questions in an attempt to, for the first time in his life, genuinely connect with another human being.

The questions aren't important just because they're a sign of how Zenos has changed in Endwalker - they're actually the thematic heart of Endwalker! ARR may have had "Answers" as it's theme, but EW is the expac of questions. Namely the biggest question of all: What is the meaning of life? Different characters have different answers to that, leading to the grand-scale symbolic conflict being the Endsinger's despair - her belief that there is no meaning in life - versus whatever reasons the WoL chooses to live for, left, as always, up to player interpretation.

When you look deeper, Zenos isn't actually as out-of-place in the symbolic conflict as he first seems. His depressed worldview - that metaphor about drowning in a swamp again - seems to align with the Endsinger's view about life being meaningless. But he aids the WoL in defeating her. In that way he serves as part of the answer to her question about the meaning of life. He may have resented life at times, but he still found meaning in chasing pleasure. Not the strongest or most beautiful reason to deny oblivion, perhaps, but it did enable him to help the WoL triumph. I think of Zenos's philosophy as being connected to the concept of "Amor Fati"...largely because this quote explaining it sounds like something he'd say, or at least agree with on some level:

"and if our soul has trembled with happiness and sounded like a harp string just once, all eternity was needed to produce this one event—and in this single moment of affirmation all eternity was called good, redeemed, justified, and affirmed."

So he does have a meaningful role in Endwalker, as the "Amor Fati" against the Endsinger's "Memento Mori". I think that in this the story shows that his reason for living, while somewhat shallow, is not necessarily a morally wrong thing in and of itself (setting aside for a second all the people he hurt in his pursuit of that). It's just that, since it is a lonely pursuit that denies everything except for his target, it still feels empty. The core of the counterargument against the Endsinger's despair is that both pleasure and fulfillment are necessary to live a meaningful life in a meaningless universe, and that's why Zenos is here in Endwalker. Why he even exists in the story in the first place.

Even if you're one of the people who deeply hates Zenos...well, you probably wouldn't have read this whole thing if you did, but I still think it's important to read into characters you dislike, because every character in a story is written for a reason. Plus, trying to understand even their worst enemies is one of the WoL's key traits as of ShB and EW. With his last breaths, Zenos was trying to understand the WoL too - carrying this understanding of him with you as we move into our next adventures is the least you can do for your "friend".

[papyrusweekblog]

Papyrus week! April 16 – April 22

 (ID: Image of one of Undertale’s official stickers. Papyrus is smiling and happily crying, trying to dry off his tears with a tissue. There are letters above him that read, in all caps, “You’re nice!! You’re too nice!!”  / end ID)

Greetings! This is the first time I ever prepare an event, so trust me I will not be any good at it, but I really love Papyrus and I’ve always wanted to participate in a week appreciation about him, so I might as well make one myself!

The tag for this event will be #papyrusweek2023 and it will start on April 16 and end on April 22

 Read more for all the information:

 Rules:

-This event is for Undertale Papyrus, you can include your own version of Deltarune Papyrus too, but I would prefer the focus wasn't on AUs. However, Papyrus redesigns or human versions of the character are the exception, absolutely post these if you want!

-I want to keep this event sfw, please don't post any suggestive or nsfw content in the papyrus week tag

-Please I ask that you do not draw yellowface Frisk and/or Kris if you include either of them

-No misgendering of characters, not any erasure of characters’s canon identities, no bigotry or hate of any kind

-If you make content about the no mercy run or a couple of neutral runs do tag it properly, it can be upsetting to see for some people

-Of course, inc*st and p*dophilia are not allowed, get out of here. Yes, this includes Frisk and Chara, they are children. This includes Flowey too, there is debate on how old he is but he very clearly behaves like a child, and whether you agree or not I do NOT want to see him being shipped with Papyrus, keep that content out of this event

-While I didn't include a 'ship' day you can absolutely draw ship content, Papyton is allowed here or any other ship (that is normal and doesn’t involve inc*st or p*dophilia. I would prefer to not see selfcest either)

-You can pretty much do anything: drawings, fics, character analyses, videos, music, etc. Have fun!

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

 Days:

April 16, day 1: Hobbies and Jobs

Let's start with an easy one: Papyrus's interest in puzzles, cooking and the royal guard! Papyrus cares deeply about anything he is interested in, even beyond the examples I just mentioned (being cool online, cars, etc). There is even a possibility for him to be The Monster Ambassador! Lots of things to choose, pick whichever you want!

  April 17, day 2: Battles

You're blue now, that's his attack. Papyrus's fight is really interesting isn't it? He has so many cool attacks, he's the only monster able to not kill you, and he might be incredibly strong...? It's a shame we couldn't see his special blaster attack, but if you want you want, you could show us! Or maybe even more interesting ideas for different Papyrus battles! Or simply appreciate the one we have and listen to Bonetrousle all day

  April 18, day 3: Family

Papyrus has a really cool brother, not as cool as he is but still pretty great. Some say he might also have a mysterious scientist dad/grand father/brother.....? We don't know much but that sounds pretty great too!

  April 19, day 4: Friendship

Papyrus wants to be popular, popular, popular! But perhaps what's most important is the friends that care about you for who you really are. And luckily, Papyrus has found friends like that along the way!

  April 20, day 5: Give up giving up

Papyrus is a character that has been very misunderstood in the past, from being reduced to a comic relief to being seen as nothing but an innocent naive character. But Papyrus is a very complex character: he has insecurities, he has flaws, he believes in kindness no matter what, and there are just a lot of things we don't know about him. For some reason we haven't seen him in Deltarune yet...? While we wait for him, let's show everyone how interesting Papyrus is!

  April 21, day 6: Free day

Make whatever content you want! Headcanons, fun ideas that you want to share, ships, post-game stuff, etc. Impress Papyrus with your creativity

  April 22, day 7: Papyrus

We have focused on everything that revolves Papyrus, now it's time for Papyrus himself! What do you love about this character? Do you think he is cool? Let's show Papyrus how many fans he really has

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

 And that’s all! I apologize for being very new at this but I’ll try my best. Most importantly, if you decide to participate even if it’s just for one day, thank you and have fun!

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 13)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), public sex, I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

Nasimiyu didn’t know how to feel other than smug. Word of Seokjin’s fight with Namjoon shot through the palace like the smell of fish. Nasimiyu couldn’t believe it at first. Seokjin? Throwing fists?! She saw Namjoon’s black eye on her way to the private dining room for supper –which Namjoon chose to take in his room– and Seokjin’s busted lip but still couldn’t believe it until King Dong-gun himself sank into his chair and laughed,

“Well. Who’d have thought this son would be brawling in the courtyard, eh?”

Beside him, Lady Zselyke turned up her nose and teased, with a trace of a smile, “I suppose he had to inherit something from you.”

“Besides my dashing good looks?”

“He looks more like his mother,” General Dong-suk mumbled around a forkful of food already buried in his mouth. Nasimiyu glanced at the man and quickly away, afraid of making eye contact. General Dong-suk’s reputation preceded him. The King’s younger brother was notorious for winning wars, no matter the cost, and while Nasimiyu didn’t know specifics, she did know her father thought he was both terrifying and genius. We’ll want him on our side, Prince Hamisi had said. Another reason we need to do this the right way. The last thing we need are losses along the border during the transition of power. Dong-suk is undefeatable. 

High praise from her father, who himself bragged a great deal about having the most peaceful principality in Marvono so that they had no need of war to begin with. Yet he clearly admired Dong-suk. She’d expected a scarred, muscular old soldier based on the things she’d heard and instead found herself breaking bread with a razor sharp man, crisp and clean and unemotional. It felt like he sucked the warmth from the air just by his presence. He was far, far more frightening in person than any of the people she’d met in those tavern backrooms could possibly understand. Hatred for this man had streamed from them like blood and sweat, stories of his depraved acts, his prolific use of torture to get answers, his scorched earth tactics for any boarder villages “harboring” soldiers from the other side –whether they knew it or not. Such stories had seemed impossible to pin onto one man’s shoulders, impossible to believe without some bigger outcry than a couple dozen angry youths shouting about it in Marvonese taverns, far from those borders and battles and truth.

And yet, she was glad Seokjin sat in between them. 

Nasimiyu supposed General Dong-suk had meant that as an insult to his brother, though it was a compliment to Seokjin and the beauty of his mother captured in portraits around the palace. Dong-gun laughed like he expected nothing differently from his brother and Seokjin buried his face in his food. 

Lady Zselyke smoothed it over with, “That he does, and there’s no harm in being good in the face and with an uppercut, eh?”

“What do you know about fighting, Aunt?” Seokjin asked her. Apparently this was also a joke that Nasimiyu didn’t get because Zselyke laughed fondly and waved her napkin at him.

“Oh stop. You know, I used to be right there to the side any time your father brawled, ready to clean up the mess afterwards.”

“You weren’t very good at it,” Dong-gun chuckled. “I had to learn my own way out of messes.”

“How can you say that?! I smoothed things over with your father so many times.”

“Ah, yes, with him, I suppose he was fond of you, he’d wait until you were out of sight to whip my backside so you wouldn’t be distressed.”

Nasimiyu couldn’t believe they were laughing about this, but they did. Except for General Dong-suk, who ate tidily but quickly, as if it had been weeks since his last feed but he had somewhere to be. 

“Sometimes it takes a firm hand,” he said, chasing a sip of wine. “Perhaps you needed firmer hands. Your boys did.”

Nasimiyu couldn’t help the stare out of the corner of her eye, curious how the king would take to such a jab at his parenting methods.

King Dong-gun’s voice seemed steelier as he countered, “I raised a fine soldier, didn’t I? And Seokjin will make a… king.”

“Thank you, father, I appreciate your bold, unflagging support,” Seokjin quipped and Nasimiyu wanted to kick him beneath the table but withheld. Did he really not know the right time to make a joke and the right time to abstain? No jokes could exist around that General uncle of his. 

But maybe he didn’t intend it as a joke; he didn’t have his usual bold smile as he lifted his own glass of wine. He kept blinking, like there was something in his eye. As soon as his wine glass was done, he shoveled food into his cheek like he, too, had somewhere to be. He didn’t look like a valiant champion, though earlier he’d strutted into dinner like he’d just been crowned one, and bowed low to Nasimiyu after she placed her hand in his. 

Never in a million years had Nasimiyu expected Seokjin to hear a complaint from her and go right to resolve the problem himself. A fist to Namjoon’s face! Damn, she wished she could have seen it. 

“A fine king such as yourself,” General Dong-suk said in a sharp voice that Nasimiyu saw made King Dong-gun stiffen. “He’ll go around throwing balls and punishing fops for fucking maids? Who cares? Take care of the problem or get over it, it’s a trivial matter and not something you should be brawling like a fresh pup about.”

Seokjin looked startled and rushed to clarify, “I assure you, the cause of the exchange is well in hand–”

“Maybe they’re both fucking the maid,” King Dong-gun suggested with a laugh, then quickly added, “My apologies, Princess. I forgot you were here, you’re so quiet tonight.”

“Just taking it all in,” she mumbled, but it was missed beneath Lady Zselyke insisting, “She has a sense of humor about it too, Dong-gun, don’t worry about her.” Nasimiyu saw the quickest flicker of Zselyke’s eyes in her direction but didn’t understand the meaning of it. And she most certainly would not have a sense of humor about Seokjin fucking any maid, particularly hers.

“I am confident he is not,” she said coolly, and smirked at Seokjin in the hopes people would see it and murmur. Seokjin gave her the smallest smile but it was like something pressed heavily down on him. She wished he would take more pride in his own fight!

“Besides, I think it’s admirable,” Lady Zselyke rushed on to cover Nasimiyu’s response. “When there’s an issue, you go right to solve it. No skulking around waiting for someone else to handle it or hope it will handle itself. It’s the proper way to deal with things, isn’t that right, Dong-suk?”

Honestly Nasimiyu couldn’t believe Zselyke had addressed him at all, much less so casually. She seemed to puff herself up further as Dong-suk looked at her, wine glass steady in his hand. Nasimiyu couldn’t decide whether it was stupid or admirable.

“I don’t believe you wish to hear how I deal with things,” Dong-suk said, looking away from Lady Zselyke like she no longer interested him in the least. He gestured brusquely to a servant to clear his plate away. 

King Dong-gun chuckled, “Here to tell me how you’d run things differently if it was your ass in my seat?”

“I don’t need to tell you,” General Dong-suk said, and didn’t look at his elder brother either. “There’s no point in wasting our breath, I don’t want your chair.”

“Yes, good, it’s molded to my ass.”

“And his will fit?” Dong-suk asked with a gesture towards Seokjin. Flippant. Unimpressed. With one sentence Nasimiyu understood precisely what uncle thought of nephew. Not that she had expected anything different. 

“I’ve already started my special diet to gain the weight,” Seokjin mumbled under his breath. Nasimiyu had never seen him so… wilted. He couldn’t even endorse his own jokes. Everyone else at the table ignored him.

Lady Zselyke sniffed, nose in the air, “King Dong-gun has done a fine job molding Seokjin into a prince who will rule well when the day comes, but that day will not be for a very, very long time.”

“You think so?” General Dong-suk asked evenly. Nasimiyu bit her lip in an effort not to react. She kept her head down, shocked to hear the brother of the king so brazenly suggest, “There are a dozen plots to take his head today alone and you think he will stay king for a very long time?”

“Dong-suk,” Zselyke scolded, her voice soft.

King Dong-gun rolled his eyes and laughed, “You exaggerate, little brother. Maybe four, maximum. I am not nearly terrible enough to warrant that many plots.” Something harder came into his voice as he added, “Not as terrible as you would have me be.”

“‘Terrible’ is a clever choice of word, old brother,” Dong-suk returned. “It can mean many things. To be feared, respected. That would keep you alive.”

“He’s a good king,” Zselyke argued. “The people–”

“The people,” Dong-suk laughed, cold and empty sounding. “The only good king to the people is a dead one. There is no wisdom in trying to be a good king for the people, they will always want something other than what you provide, and should they get it anyway, they will immediately want something else instead.”

“And yet here I sit,” Dong-gun said, and lifted his wine glass for a sip. 

Nasimiyu startled as something brushed her leg –Seokjin’s hand. He gave a look, but she wasn’t sure what he was trying to convey to her.

“Ignoring my warnings.”

“I heed your warnings,” Dong-gun argued. “The legitimate ones. We have the Destin rebellions under control–”

“It’s not Destin you should be worried about, they’re nothing, a ragtag band of nobodies. Embarrassments, every one of them.” 

“The whole principality?” Seokjin mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling, like he thought at least his footman or bodyguards would laugh, but he’d said it so quietly, probably they couldn’t even hear him. Seokjin was afraid, that seemed obvious, and Nasimiyu –despite feeling the same– found herself disappointed by him. This was his own uncle. Surely you should at least be brave against your own family? If you weren’t, who else could be?

His uncle only spared a disgusted flicker of his gaze and forged ahead, “It’s not Destin you should concern yourself with. Cut them off with one clean slice, it can be done in an hour.”

“And how many dead would it be?” King Dong-gun asked with a shake of his head.

“Numbers do not matter at a time like this. What number is order worth?”

“How many lives is my reign worth, do you mean?” King Dong-gun clarified, a nuance of language that clearly did not amuse Dong-suk. But Nasimiyu found herself briefly fascinated… was Dong-gun saying he would not take extreme measures to curb a rebellion because he did not consider the loss of lives worth it for a threat against his life? Was that really what he was saying? Nasimiyu was sure she must be misunderstanding, filling in blanks since the two of them argued about political things she only knew crumbs about. 

“I’d say at least five,” Seokjin said. And, further baffling to Nasimiyu, King Dong-gun burst into laughter.

“Come, son, at least ten!”

“Let’s call it seven.”

“Idiots,” Dong-suk sighed, letting his eyes close. “Every one of you, idiots.”

“And it’s already been two,” King Dong-gun said, smiling at his brother. But then the chuckle died away as his words caught up to everyone, maybe even himself. The smile remained but it looked more threatening than amused now. “I’ve lost a wife and a son, brother. You would have my other son?”

“I don’t want Seokjin on the lines,” Dong-suk scoffed. “I’ve seen him brawl. I’d take his fucking valet before I’d take him anywhere.”

“That is what it would cost me to give you the war you ask for. How could he face his people if he did not go to fight, as his brother did? And yet…”

Nasimiyu’s eyebrows raised. She glanced at Seokjin, her only near-ally in this, curious if he knew what war was being asked for. This was the first she had heard of war as a current event other than the unrest in Destin and maybe an occasional skirmish along the border in Therepin. 

“I don’t ask for a war but the means to stop one before it begins.”

Nasimiyu felt herself getting twisted up. It certainly sounded better to stop a war before it began. The ‘Therepin Border Skirmishes’ had happened during her lifetime but she had been young and shielded, raised on the far side of Yeonhalbi from the battles. Marvono sent soldiers but not too many, not anyone within reach of her. 

“You grow idle, brother,” King Dong-gun said, his knife scraping noisily against his plate as he cut his steak. “Without war, you have no purpose, is that how you feel? I can put you to other tasks.”

“Destin? You won’t let me do what needs to be done.”

“I’m handling Destin.”

“I am your general, I should handle it all.”

“A rather bothersome one,” King Dong-gun scoffed. “I can’t even eat the steak I requested just for you without you nipping my ear off about war this, death threat that. Your job is to end wars, not monger them. Get a wife or a hobby and stop trying to kindle unrest. If war erupts along the border–”

“I will have warned you!” General Dong-suk shouted and slammed his fist on the table. It was a sudden and explosive outburst after he’d maintained such tight composure. Steady. Menacing by subtlety, not volume. Now Nasimiyu suspected he could do both. “If you continue to ignore the threats along the border… Your people there suffer. Unrest grows. You grow fat and lazy in your capital by the sea and the people will come for you.”

“Find another way. That is my final word.”

“It may very well be, Dong-gun.” Dong-suk rose from the table and gave the king and Lady Zselyke both a withering stare, as if she’d had much to say in it. His gaze slid blindly over Seokjin, who clearly had no merit for Dong-suk. Nasimiyu leaned back, feeling the briefest moment of Dong-suk’s eyes on her –it couldn’t have been but a second. 

Perhaps Dong-gun saw it too, or maybe he had decided to try and drive the dismissal home further; he laughed, “Ah, did you meet Prince Hamisi on your way here, by chance? He’s gone south, I believe. I’ll be curious to hear what he reports about the people there and whether things are really as bad as you say. But I’m afraid you won’t find support for your war from him. He’ll laugh in your face before he sends soldiers from Marvono to die simply because you’re bored.”

“I’ve never met the man in my life and if he sells his daughter to this idiot family, I don’t care to.” 

The private dining room was perfectly silent for a solid minute in the wake of his departure. For that reason, Nasimiyu thought it a ridiculously dramatic exit –but he had totally cleared his plate in remarkable speed, so maybe his only purpose at dinner had been to quickly eat and try one more time to continue this argument he and his brother had clearly broken off earlier. Nasimiyu regretted not knowing more. If the borders were full of unrest again and it posed a threat to the crown, that would be her problem to solve someday, possibly someday soon. 

But it was also confusing because… well, her father hadn’t mentioned there was the risk of war along the border, nor rebellion from Yeonhalbian people. There was that remark her father had made, which Nasimiyu was proud of herself to recollect now, that he felt King Dong-gun’s ways of doing things led to the borders needing protecting, of also that he thought many people wanted King Dong-gun dead. Was that what General Dong-suk had meant…? It was annoying, feeling like she was short a few cards to understand what they were talking about. It further annoyed her that Lord Namjoon probably could have filled her in on everything and given her a reliable account of whether General Dong-suk really was as out of hand as rumor had it. 

She could ask Seokjin, of course. Of course. She wanted to laugh at the idea. Seokjin had his face down in his bowl of soup and couldn’t have looked less interested in discussing politics. She never got the sense he knew much about anything, despite getting to sit in council. He just took it for granted to know what they were talking about, even though the outcome of a dinner argument like this could change the future of Yeonhalbi. Even his own future! If war did happen, Seokjin would either have to go fight or rule as his father went to die instead. Dong-gun didn’t seem like the self-sacrificing type…

For a moment, war loomed up as a real thing, more than it had ever felt before. She’d thought of war as undesirable but sometimes a necessity, but never stopped to consider who made the call about whether it was necessary or not. Probably you decided which way –war or no war– would lead to fewer deaths and better long-term outcomes… but for whom? For the monarch wanting to maintain their crown? Or the people who lived in the warzone? 

War hadn’t touched Marvono since the uniting of Yeonhalbi. The nation to the north was quiet, peaceful, their relationship good with Marvono and the borders never contested –partially because they were a relation. Prince Hamisi had no sons to send to the Therepin Border Wars, even if he’d wanted to, and daughters were never expected to be soldiers. War didn’t hurt people like them. 

But Nasimiyu would have her own children someday, likely sons and daughters both. It would be honorable for her sons to serve in a necessary war, but how necessary would a war have to be for her to be willing to send them? 

Seokjin leaned close to her and said in what seemed to have been intended as a whisper, “Sorry about that. Family… you know how it is. I almost wish we’d go back to talking about my fight…”

“My family doesn’t have quite the… characters yours does,” Nasimiyu whispered back, aware that at least Lady Zselyke was listening closely to her. King Dong-gun had called his footman over and was telling him about some meeting he wanted to have the next day now, and also to let him know if Dong-suk left the palace at any point.

“No? No heated debates at dinner about who wants to kill you or what wars to wage?”

“No, never,” Nasimiyu said, and didn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice, though she knew she’d sounded critical a moment ago. She wanted to sound critical, because this had all seemed so inappropriate, but truthfully, she wanted in. She wanted to know. She wanted to be one of the ones having to make even those difficult decisions about what was right and how to help people best. She would have loved if her father included her in those debates around the dinner table –war, ethics, philosophy, danger, whatever! If he had, maybe she wouldn’t have felt compelled to seek it out herself –and she never would have met Dulce. 

“Ah, your father loves you more than mine,” Seokjin said loudly. “He wanted to protect you from it all.”

King Dong-gun shook his head and argued, “Why do you think we ate privately in here tonight? Sometimes you have to let the stink air out for a few days. I would have done you a disservice to hide the shit of ruling from you. Someday you’ll be the one fanning the stench out.”

“Not for a long time!” Lady Zselyke bubbled over, and downed the remnants of her wine. “Honestly, all this talk of death and war and–”

“There there, Zelly, don’t you worry about it. Suk and I will make up in a few hours. He knows I’ll never give my permission and I know that he manages to get it done another way and everything will be fine.”

“But if the borders really are unquiet–”

“They’re not. Ask Namjoon, wherever he’s sulked off to hide. Why don’t you ask him, Seokjin? While the two of you fix whatever this was?”

Seokjin’s brow lowered as he said, “That… isn’t likely to happen.”

“You don’t have to like him, but you do have to find a way to work with the people in position to best help you.”

“I don’t need his help. Not someone like him.”

“You’ll have to let go of this idea of liking people,” King Dong-gun continued. “It leaves you worried about whether people like you, and once you care about that, you’re damned.”

Seokjin gave his father a wide grin and promised, “Well I’m safe there, I’ve never worried about that.”

“Good. Because the rest of your life is going to be spent working with people you hate, and arguing with people you care for. You think you’re always going to see eye to eye with me? Or your advisors? Even your wife… her father… it’s harder to hold your ground with people like that but you have to.”

Seokjin looked stunned. Nasimiyu wasn’t sure why. At first Seokjin struggled to find the words, before he pressed, “You think I should stand my ground? You believe I’ll have the right way of things–”

“Well you’d better figure it out eventually,” King Dong-gun laughed and Seokjin visibly deflated. “Otherwise the people around you will figure it out for you, but no one except the king can ever see all there is to see. It’s your uncle’s job to ask for what he wants to get the job done in the easiest way, and it’s my job to tell him no, to get it done in the best way. Get good at telling people no, Seokjin. Zselyke, let’s go for a walk, I need to get some unkind words about my brother out of my mind.”

In only a moment, Nasimiyu and Seokjin were alone in the dining room, silent and still though neither touched another bite. 

Eventually Seokjin snorted, “Won’t it be a sight to see if my uncle has to answer to me someday? I know you’re thinking it. How in the world am I going to hold someone like that in line?” He shook his head and for a moment looked so sincere and open and casual –except this time instead of putting Nasimiyu off, she felt like he’d reached a hand out to her. Vulnerable, but in a good way. Like he’d gestured to his uncle and said this is a problem we’ll have to address as king and queen someday, how do you think we should do it?

“He’ll have to listen to us, or he’ll lose his head,” she suggested.

“Us,” Seokjin insisted and his grin grew. Nasimiyu’s eyes narrowed. But instead of saying exactly the wrong thing, which is what she expected, he nodded, “Yes, all right. You’ve managed your father, haven’t you? Is he anything like that? You’ll be an asset on the throne.”

Nasimiyu was not sure she had managed her father but insisted, “Of course I have. It’s wise of you to… to recognize that. That I would be an asset, I mean.” She paused. “Do you mean that?”

“That you would be an asset?”

“That you would have me by your side. In council or ruling or dealing with… problems,” she clarified. 

“The king always takes his queen into confidence–”

“I mean openly. Not a listening ear as you dress for bed but a partner in–”

Seokjin laughed and Nasimiyu bristled, but once again his words surprised her as he insisted, “I get the feeling I couldn’t keep you out if I tried, but I wouldn’t pick that fight. If you show a head for politics, at least that would make one of us.”

“Even though it would be breaking with tradition,” she said, standing because he did, trying to sound calm as a surge of energy bubbled in her chest. “If I did more than just plan balls and suppers and–”

“I hope life with me can be good for you, Nasimiyu. If you’d rather do this or that, it’s yours. I don’t care if you don’t want to plan balls. Zselyke can keep doing that since she likes it so much. If you want to be involved with council and hold court, we do that together, or you take it over, I sure don’t mind. Maybe we’ll actually be good at it all together. Yes, Jimin, I’m going in for the night, can you tell Drin I’m not sparring after all? I think I got my workout in today.”

“What are you going to do about Namjoon?” Nasimiyu asked before he could disappear.

Seokjin hesitated, then asked, “Well what do you think I should do? Did I do enough? My father thinks I need to just learn to work with him, but…” He sighed deeply and looked away. “A guy like that…”

“May be of use to us,” Nasimiyu decided. “I think you’ve done enough for now. Hopefully he will behave himself, and if not, we’ll send him away. Besides, he’d probably take Mindeulle with him but I’d like to keep her here.”

“I’m glad you’ve made friends with her.”

“I’m glad you took my complaint about Namjoon seriously,” she said, feeling benevolent. “Thank you, Seokjin.” He gave her an indecipherable look, chased away quickly by his typical smile.

“Always, my princess.”

Nasimiyu’s spirits lifted as she returned to her room, yanked back and forth between the fight for her sake and the appearance of this frightening possibly-war-criminal uncle, but then Seokjin’s easy acceptance of her value in ruling this country. It had never occurred to her that Seokjin might just… let her. Sure, it was possible he’d still be in the way. But… maybe not. There might be value in having the “true King” in the wings as she ruled, to keep the loyalty of those who actually did support the Kim line. Namjoon certainly wasn’t going to have that honor now. And while Nasimiyu wasn’t sure exactly how many children she planned on having –because honestly the whole ordeal sounded rather unpleasant and also frustrating because why couldn’t a queen rule on their own rather than worrying about heirs to take it from her– maybe she would enjoy having daughters. She’d never have to send them to war, and no one would expect her to turn the crown over to them simply because a male ruler took priority over a female one. And Seokjin was handsome; probably he would lend himself well to beautiful daughters. He might be a loving father and could see after their care while Nasimiyu ruled. And he had fought his cousin at the drop of a word from her, and he had been very good in bed.

For a moment she thought to invite him back into it. Why not? He’d done well and deserved a reward and so did she. But he had already gone, and she didn’t feel like chasing him down. She would just send for Dulce instead and let her earn her affection back.

Besides, she shouldn’t totally lose her head about Seokjin. She wasn’t sure she wanted to change their plans and keep him around… but maybe they ought to think more about this before they did anything so final as kill him. At least not yet… 

Although Nasimiyu recognized –and perhaps this made the potential change of plans both more and less appealing– her father would not abide by it. Could she tell her father no any more than Seokjin could his uncle?

Dulce had volunteered for the laundry that afternoon and stayed hidden when Nasimiyu sent for her after dinner –easy enough when Taehyung invited her along to the nearest tavern the staff liked to frequent. Probably the head maid and Nasimiyu would give her hell later but she wouldn’t regret the evening drinking and playing cards with Taehyung, Jimin, and several other staff who seemed to warm to her since Taehyung had her under wing. He seemed to charm people on first meeting. It was wild to Dulce that no one suspected he was royal –not that she believed royals were actually born better than anyone else, but if such a thing existed, he sure had it. Seokjin had the looks for it but he was too…

“Involved,” Jimin had sighed as they walked back to the palace together late in the night. Dulce had thought soft or foolish but involved seemed right as well. With quite a bit of alcohol now warming her blood, Dulce nodded at Jimin’s rant, his tongue loosened by a few shots too many. “What’s he doing throwing punches with Namjoon in the middle of the courtyard? He’s got other things to be worried about right now, like his wedding!” 

Jimin had not been there for the fight. He’d arrived late, too late to hear Seokjin shout at his cousin: Keep your fucking hands off Dulce!

She shuddered. Her name didn’t belong in the prince’s mouth. It always sounded wrong. His concern for her was misplaced. Her business was none of his. And while she didn’t know how the fuck he’d found out, she did not need some knight in velvet and jewels rallying to her defense. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, realizing Jimin was waiting for her to say something. 

“He’s so eager to impress your mistress though,” Jimin continued. “I worry he’d do anything for her at this point. At dinner it sounded like it all had something to do with Nasimiyu… she had a problem with Namjoon?”

So Jimin didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Dulce admitted. “I wasn’t with her. I only showed up at the end of the fight.”

“With Taehyung.”

“Yeah.” 

“You two are getting… close.”

Dulce arched her eyebrow and asked, “Are we? Says… Taehyung?”

Jimin laughed and admitted, “I know him too well to trust anything he says. But last time he invited you along, you didn’t join and this time you did.”

“Last time was for a fuck, this was for a game of cards.”

“Yeah, beginner’s luck,” Jimin grumbled because he’d lost and badly. Dulce had won just enough to not seem suspicious, but the men had made a big fuss out of it, like she’d never played cards before, like she needed to be coddled. Because she was a woman. And apparently that made you less good at cards or something? They were all terrible; it was a challenge to lose.

“Everyone in this palace worries too much about who’s fucking who,” she told him, assuming he was trying to clumsily ask if she and Taehyung were fucking, or maybe if she wanted to fuck, or if fucking was off the table.

“Be nice, it’s all they have to do,” Jimin laughed. “It’s Priva! The capital of the world! Live in Priva –live in the palace of Priva– and enjoy infinite wealth, splendors out your ass, nonstop fun!” he shouted, his voice echoing around the empty yard as they crossed it.

Dulce tried not to smile at his drunk antics and gave him a friendly shove, scolding, “Be quiet, you’re a public nuisance.”

“Even the staff here live the life of dreams!”

“If you’re so miserable, leave.”

“I’m not miserable, I love my job. Taehyung’s the one shoveling horse shit, I just fluff collars and make sure the pets get fed and tell people the prince isn’t in his room when he’s got a comic he wants to read,” Jimin corrected. 

“Yes, sounds awful.”

“I know what awful is. I know I have it good,” Jimin corrected. “You have it good.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Sure,” Dulce said.

“Is the princess good to you? They say you can tell a lot about someone by how they treat their staff. What does it tell us about the princess, hm? Will she be a good queen, Dulce? What will the world look like when we’re shining the shoes of the people in charge?”

He was drunk and rambling and thinking big thoughts but Dulce wasn’t in the mood to follow. And certainly she would never get so drunk as to start spilling secrets, even Nasimiyu’s. Not only could she hold her liquor better than that, she’d never let herself drink that much. He laughed when she said nothing.

“Enigmatic Dulce.”

“Big word for a Destin.”

“Ha! Classist!”

“Paloman. I believe we’re beneath you in education so I’m punching up.”

“We’re trash people from trash principalities, it’s true,” Jimin sighed. “I don’t have much lost love for my homeland but Prince Seokjin will do right by them. He promised.”

“Hm.”

“He seems to like you, maybe he’ll be a good benefactor to Paloma too.”

“I’m not sure he could find it on a map.”

She hadn’t meant to say that part, but it set Jimin off in a peal of laughter that had him stumbling on the stairs. She felt obligated to see him to his room, which he made a big show of thanking her for, bowing low and kissing her hand, then giving her a gentle tug to see if she’d follow him into his private room. Because of course he got a private room, lucky ass. Why didn’t she get a private room?

But Dulce didn’t feel like fucking anyone right now. Sex would be a chore, despite Jimin’s good looks. The alcohol made her numb and there was too much drama and she was annoyed and not in the mood to be exposed in any way with anyone. 

So she declined, pinching Jimin’s ear when he pouted about it. She’d walked away before realizing at least she could have slept in his room, away from so many people. Maybe she ought to have taken him up on it but then “fallen asleep drunkenly” before they could get their clothes off.

This regret mixed with the others from the day, from the past few days, and she felt her spirits sink the further she walked from Jimin and his bright presence. Even his complaints seemed more like bragging and gratitude; he was dedicated to the Prince thoroughly, even when smashed. He belonged here.

Dulce got that bubbling feeling under her skin again, the same one that had made her freeze earlier when Seokjin had said that, making it clear she’d stupidly stepped into a trap without noticing. A feeling that, to be honest, she had been trying to ignore for a while now:

Get out of here.

The strains of that warning threaded through just about every encounter she’d had since she arrived here. She didn’t belong in this palace, with these people, with Nasimiyu, anywhere in sight of this Prince with the walking target on his forehead that he’d practically painted there himself. And what was she doing this all for, to protect a family who hadn’t even tried to find her when she left? No, why would they? All anyone cared about in her family was themself and their own interests. Everything she’d learned about her family as a child was just a lie. It was all a lie, all the good things in the world…

Realizing she was too tired and more than a little drunk and probably going to get in a fight with the other maids when she crept into the sleeping quarters, she took a detour to the kitchen instead. Might as well get some food and water to clear her mind.

It was so late the kitchens were actually quiet, which only happened for a couple hours in the middle of the night, and even then, there was no guarantee that no one would ring the bell with some midnight demand to rouse the overnight staff.

Perhaps that had happened because she heard voices deep in the kitchen, too muffled to make out until she drew close. The door to the outside swung shut as Yoongi turned to her, a bleary look to his eyes.

“Are you cooking?” she asked with confusion because there was no food out. 

“Just finished,” he said, gesturing to the dishes piled in the sinks, ready for the washers in the morning. “Did you come for food or company?”

“Food.”

“Had enough company already?” he pressed. “You smell like a tavern.”

“That is probably because I was in one.”

“Really? Didn’t take you for the going out type,” Yoongi mused, beginning to rummage. 

“I can find something, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t want you digging around, just sit.”

“I go out,” she belatedly answered. “Sometimes.” She watched his back as he found bread and butter and a bowl of small berries she wasn’t familiar with.

“Me too, when I’m avoiding someone.”

“Who said I was avoiding someone?”

“Were you?”

“What is that berry?”

“They’re called cloudberries,” he explained as she picked from the bowl to inspect. She’d never seen anything like the misshapen orange sphere before. “They’re imported.”

“Too expensive to feed a maid,” she pointed out before popping it into her mouth. She felt very comfortable with Yoongi right now. She didn’t want to but it couldn’t be helped. Sometimes it was lonely, never getting close to anyone. She couldn’t get close to him either but she could settle into a corner with him in a different way than she could with Nasimiyu or with Jimin or Taehyung and somehow all these little pieces of herself she showed in flashes to different because it was human nature to crave connection had to be enough.

No, it was enough!

She didn’t need more than that.

“The king won’t know and the prince won’t mind,” Yoongi assured her. 

“You might be surprised…” she mumbled. 

“Who are you avoiding?”

“No one,” she answered again, glare brief in Yoongi’s direction because he had fed her, after all. 

A thud against the outside wall made them both look over and Yoongi sighed.

“Does someone need you?”

“Are you avoiding… Namjoon?” Yoongi asked. Even before she could roll her eyes he pressed on in an almost deadpan voice, “Did he cause you harm or take advantage of you in any way that makes you feel unsafe?”

For a moment she just looked at him, not sure why the look or voice. He looked like someone had a dagger to his throat, forcing him to ask the question.

Then an idea came to her. She set the bread down before she’d even had a bite, and pushed away from the counter, marching over to the door that led to the outside and threw it open.

Prince Seokjin stood just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed although he straightened immediately at the rush of the door.

She looked back at Yoongi and demanded, “Really? You’re voiceboxing for him? If you have a question, Prince Seokjin, you can ask it to my face.”

“I…” He looked startled and she belatedly recognized her own inappropriate intensity and familiarity. The alcohol might not make her divulge secrets, but there had been a lot of it, and it did make her a little…loose. Informal. Irritable. 

Just as quickly, he cleared his throat and asked with all the propriety of a lord asking a lady for a dance, “Did he hurt you?”

“No!” she scoffed and strode back into the kitchen to get her food. He followed, as she suspected he would.

“I don’t mean to offend you by asking the question–”

“You do offend me. Who I fuck is none of your business.”

He blinked rapidly, maybe at her language, and assured her, “Yes, I– yes, of course it’s not, but– except that I wanted to make sure–”

“You wanted to make sure,” she repeated, grabbing the hunk of bread. “So instead of asking me, you brawled in the courtyard and then shouted my name, associating me– spreading my private business–”

“I suspected he had– Nasimiyu told me– I only wanted to protect you,” he said, and recoiled as if he had tossed her a hot potato and suspected she would throw it back in his face.

“To protect me,” she repeated in utter disbelief.

“He’s a lord and you’re a… a maid.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I don’t mean it as an insult,” he hurried to say. “But it wouldn’t be the first time someone used their title to take advantage of a woman who– who might feel as if no one cares or that there is no justice to be had.”

“Noble of you. Do you run around fighting everyone who does such a thing? Before there is even a complaint from the woman?”

“I… well…” He clearly floundered for words and Dulce bit into the bread because she felt too loud herself and didn’t like it. She was furious, she realized about herself. She didn’t even fully understand why, except that this man had done something stupid and she was furious about it. “I don’t often have it brought to my attention,” he stammered out. “If I did, yes, of course I would defend any woman who needed it.”

“This one didn’t.”

“Well…”

“Not every woman is a damsel in distress.”

“Yes, certainly, of course not. And I’m no knight,” he offered, smiling with that supplicating grin like he hoped he could soothe her anger with a joke. 

“I don’t think a knight would shout a woman’s private affairs right in the middle of the courtyard–”

“What did you shout?” Yoongi asked, eyes going wide. “You didn’t mention that part.”

“I– well, you see, it was just– ah, you know how it goes when you have a fight and your blood is pumping and the nerves, maybe you don’t think through everything… I don’t know what I said, I don’t think it was important…”

“It was private,” she said, lowering her voice, lowering her eyes, playing into the very image of demure lady she realized he expected of her. Soft little sweet maid. Quiet. Unassuming. Violated.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just– I know him, and I don’t want him taking advantage of you– or anyone! But especially–” 

Yoongi coughed and pounded on his chest so Dulce didn’t hear what Seokjin said. 

“I mean that I’m sorry I said anything. I’m sorry I got involved in your affairs, it just never occurred to me that you would… I mean that you…”

“That I have sex?” she blurted out. “I do. I have sex. I’m not this blushing virgin maid you seem to think I am! You don’t have to come swooping in to fight off men for me.”

“Well I just– in the city that day, those men were bothering–”

“I could have taken care of them too! I don’t need your help!”

“Yes of course not,” he said, and pinched his cheek and turned away. “Of course you don’t. You um… you have feelings for him and it’s not my right to interfere–”

“Your idea of women is so…”

Yoongi held his hand up to her, an interruption that gave her just the pause she needed to realize she was saying too much. Expressing too much. She was just so mad that he of all people could so greatly misunderstand her. Underestimate her! And the infuriating thing was that she couldn’t actually even tell him the truth! That she’d been thinking of–

NO, not that truth! That she had murdered–

No, not that one either! That she could kill if she needed to, that she could defend herself–

“Sometimes women have sex for fun,” Yoongi informed Seokjin. “It doesn’t have to be profound.”

Seokjin’s face had turned a deep shade of scarlet, his ears practically emitting flames in the low light of the kitchen lamps, as he stammered, “Yes, of course, I know that. I just meant– I didn’t realize it was your way of passing the time– but that’s fine! I’m not here to judge. I just misunderstood but it was– it was a good faith mistake! I just want to make sure you feel safe and happy here. Namjoon is known to have– well there was this business before where he inserted himself into the wrong woman– I mean situation!” he cried. “Honestly the fight wasn’t even about you, we go way back, I’ve had problems with him and how he treats women for a long time.”

Yoongi swept crumbs from the counter where her abandoned bread sat hardening, and mumbled, “I don’t know, maybe he treats them well…”

“You aren’t helping here,” Seokjin said, the only thing he’d managed to say that didn’t sound like a stuttering, stumbling mess.

“I fed her, helpful,” Yoongi countered. “You overstepped, so just say you’re sorry and move on.”

“I’m sorry, move on,” Seokjin said, then covered his face and cried, “Fuck, I meant–” 

Dulce genuinely couldn’t believe this guy, so worked up about her anger that he clearly couldn’t think straight. She hated herself for wanting to laugh at what he’d said. It was funny, if he’d meant it as a joke. She hated how much she liked that he told jokes at the worst times. But she was furious with him! Mortified! Ashamed! How dare he say something funny right now!

“I would love to move on but now I might lose my job because of my private… happenings,” she said. Not entirely true, but not totally a lie, and she couldn’t let go of her anger so easily. 

“You won’t,” Seokjin said, as if he had any control of it. “There’s no way Nasimiyu would lose you over this. Just because you have terrible taste in men doesn’t mean–”

“Jin…” Yoongi mumbled.

“Well she deserves to know– you deserve to know he’s not a good man. Maybe it’s just sex, I don’t know, that’s your– that’s your own private affair, but you should know he’s not a good man so don’t expect anything good from him.”

“Stop worrying about me!”

“Yes, right, fine, I’ll just turn it off!” he said, throwing up his hands. “I’m sorry I tried to be a decent man.”

“You have bigger things to worry about than the sex life of a maid,” she huffed. “I didn’t ask for your help or your worry or your– your saving or whatever you thought you were doing!”

“Yes, I see that now. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I’ll just mind my own business. Pretend I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t know me!” she pointed out. 

He didn’t say anything. Just threw his hands up and walked out the door of the kitchen into the yard. It enraged Dulce. She felt a nearly-impossible-to-ignore urge to chase after him and grab his arm because how dare he just walk off during an argument? Nearly, but not quite; she stopped herself because Yoongi was there, and the sight of him was enough to sober her the pinch she needed to realize she was behaving like a drunk lunatic. She never lost control like this. She never bickered like this! There was no point! Bickering gave someone else power over you. Needing to have the last word or prove a point or correct someone’s thinking meant you cared, and she didn’t have space to care –certainly not about what some stupid prince who was going to die anyway thought about her. Who gave a shit if he thought she was fucking around? Who gave a shit if he thought she was inexperienced and shy and helpless? Who gave a shit what he thought at all?

She’d shouted at him. She’d shown too much, cared too much, let her feelings take over in a way that made everything a thousand times more embarrassing. She’d shouted at the crown prince. And Yoongi had witnessed the whole thing.

Cover cover cover!

“I’m drunk,” she told Yoongi, not a lie. She let her eyes get really wide and asked, “Do you think he’ll have me thrown in prison for talking to him like–”

“If you want him to stop infantilizing you, you should stop it with the eyes,” Yoongi dismissed her with a gesture. 

“What?” She was genuinely surprised. No one had ever cut so sharply through that sort of thing with her before.

“Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Interfering.”

“Interfering with what?” she asked, her confusion genuine because what could he possibly mean by that?! Interfering with… “With the Prince and Lord Namjoon? It’s not a secret they hate each other but why would anything I do with Lord Namjoon have anything to do with the other? It was just alcohol-induced sex after the ball! Fucking isn’t always that deep!”

“Ah, he’d have a quip for that,” Yoongi snickered. Dulce didn’t know if that meant she’d managed to clear his suspicions that she was up to something. But honestly, to think she’d fucked Namjoon as a way to… to what? To piss off Nasimiyu, if anything!

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of doing.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t either. Why don’t you head off though? Take your bread. Damn, what a mess.”

“The crumbs?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t the crumbs, knowing that apparently he didn’t buy the innocent act. And Seokjin had bought it too much. And she was angry about him buying the very act she had fed him and for why? Because he’d believed it so much he was willing to fight a man about it? That couldn’t really truly actually be the reason he’d fought Namjoon and yet… 

She took her bread and the cloudberries and left, but the berries tasted too sweet right now, like they’d make her sick. 

The first person to ever fight for Dulce and it had to be him?

What a mess.

“He was on duty when he disappeared?” Dong-gun asked, looking down his nose at Jungkook as Seokjin stood by. Jungkook nodded, glancing at Seokjin for confirmation. The remaining three men of Seokjin’s bodyguard rotation stood by, with a space in between where Edmung ought to be. Five, five men who followed Seokjin around the clock, even stood outside to do nothing but wait when he slept or pissed or attended council. Even checked the washroom before he entered if it was outside his own chamber. And fuck him if he had bubble-guts or something and needed to spend some extra time in there, because they just stood there on the outside, waiting, knowing.

The guards had been assigned to him since that time he’d been just about assassinate years ago, but Seokjin didn’t complain about it anymore because the truth was he dodged them all the fucking time so it wasn’t too much of a burden. Jungkook wound up with an unfair balance of shifts because Jungkook was the one he was least inclined to dodge. But Alonzo, Muhtar, and Marks were old, annoying, judgmental, and never laughed at any of Seokjin’s jokes. He also  suspected they reported everything he said and did to his father –or would have if he did anything worthy of mention, good or bad. He didn’t trust them much, though he supposed they were good at their job. There hadn’t been any close calls since that hunting trip. It could also be that no one cared enough to try anymore. 

“Seokjin?”

“He was just gone,” Seokjin confirmed with a shrug. “I didn’t lose him on purpose. I don’t remember the last time I saw him.”

“It’s a window of two hours between when his rotation began and when Jungkook noticed he was missing,” Muhtar explained. That was a long time in which Seokjin couldn’t recall a single interaction with the man. Not that they usually interacted. He was sort of… annoying. A few years older than Jungkook, and he did laugh at Seokjin’s jokes sometimes, but he just took himself and his job so seriously. The older guards did too, but they were calmer about it. Sometimes Seokjin wanted to take Edmund by the shoulders and shake him and insist This isn’t an impressive assignment! The only person who ever tried to kill me was a crazy guy who thought I looked too much like my dead mother to live! He insisted he could talk to animals and that he controlled the boar he sent after me with his mind! He was nuts!

Damn, he hated to remember it. The immediate formation of his guard might make it appear as though his father was deeply concerned about the attempt, rather than embarrassed at his son’s incompetence. Seokho was off winning a war and Seokjin was nearly killed by a wild boar in the caves while holding a gun. He’d shot ducks before, he’d caught and cleaned his own fish, he wasn’t –as his father laughed and lectured for years to come– incapable of getting his hands dirty with the matters of life and death. Incapable of defending himself while his older brother was off fighting and killing people. 

The boar had nearly killed him. Gouged him in the side, knocked him off a cliff, and he’d hung there bleeding to death as Jungkook shot the boar in the head, shot the assassin in the leg from his perch in the trees, and pulled Seokjin up from the branch. At nineteen. Home on a brief leave from the military and allowed to hunt with them as a favor to his late father who’d died defending Dong-gun. A hero at nineteen while Seokjin couldn’t even shoot a boar that was about to kill him. 

He’d never said it, but sometimes Seokjin wondered if his father wished the boar had finished the job. Or that his sons had traded places, and it was Seokjin who’d died in the Therepin border skirmish two months later. He himself felt like that sometimes too. Not that he wanted to die –because actually there were many things he enjoyed in life– but that it wouldn’t be so bad to die because he didn’t really get to live much anyway. That’s how he felt sometimes. If he died, eh, maybe it was meant to be, and he’d done his best to wring enjoyment from his short life while he could. 

So he snuck into the city to enjoy himself. He broke away from his bodyguards so they wouldn’t watch him with those dull, judgmental, disappointed gazes, pretending not to but observing everything. Even Edmund, who acted like it was a great honor to be hired to guard the crown prince. It led him to wish the bodyguards weren’t there, to act like it, so that a man who dedicated his life to Seokjin’s safety disappeared and Seokjin couldn’t even say the last time he’d seen him.

“There’s been no body found?” King Dong-gun asked the head of palace security.

“No, sir.”

“Which means he could still be alive and talking,” Uncle Dong-suk pointed out, standing by the window. Seokjin was surprised his father had allowed his uncle into this meeting on palace security affairs after they’d fought nonstop since his uncle’s arrival, but maybe Uncle Dong-suk had just invited himself and his father simply hadn’t wanted to argue any more.

Seokjin shrugged, “He won’t have anything to talk about. He doesn’t go into council with me. I don’t have anything confidential in my rooms and he doesn’t go into them anyway.”

“Guards don’t have free access to all places in the palace,” the head of palace security insisted. “If Edmund was attempting to access anything important, the guards posted at those rooms would deny him entry.”

Marks –who, notably, had hired Edmund– insisted, “We have no reason to believe he was a traitor. It’s more likely he was captured and is loyal and innocent of wrong-doing.”

“Except for getting captured, leaving my son open to danger.”

“But how would he actually be captured in the middle of the palace while on duty?” Alonzo pointed out. “He wouldn’t go without a fight.”

“Unless he’s guilty is my point.”

“In which case he would probably leave while off duty,” Jungkook pointed out. “I don’t know how he was taken but I think he was, ser. Quickly and quietly.”

“Could this be related to the body found in the Princess’s bureau?” Muhtar suggested. 

“Should we double up bodyguards? Two at a time?”

“No,” Seokjin said quickly. “I’ll just be more aware of what’s around me.” No one had a comment on that, which he took poorly; they clearly didn’t think him capable of being aware of his surroundings, a low fucking bar. “We don’t even know what happened, I don’t see any reason to double up my guards, especially when I don’t even leave the palace. For all we know he went to help a cat and slipped over the sea wall or something…”

The debate went on. Ultimately Seokjin won about not increasing his bodyguard, but lost about increasing palace guards. Two attacks within the walls was two too many. The search for Edmund would continue, though without a single lead, it seemed as likely to be solved as the dead body in Nasimiyu’s bedroom.

Seokjin felt a headache coming on. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. Everything had been so quiet and dull before Nasimiyu arrived and now he couldn’t keep up with it all. His father wanted to spend the afternoon holding court as a way to show there was nothing wrong, but intelligence had come in about another demonstration in Destin and Uncle Dong-suk wanted to “talk about it.” Which probably meant arguing with Dong-gun about whether he could take several hundred soldiers and just raze the principality to the ground. The more Seokjin learned about his uncle’s policies –both on and off the books– the more he feared his father had an absolute sadist running the military.

They won wars. Their borders were safe. But if the things he heard said about his uncle’s campaigns were true, how could his father possibly let the man be the top general of all Yeonhalbi’s military? Yet at the same time, he saw his father constantly checking his uncle, telling him no about this, no about that. Did they genuinely disagree? Did his uncle do those things anyway? Did his father feel like it just gave him plausible deniability?

Seokjin didn’t know what the truth was. He was scared to know more. All he knew for a fact was that his uncle was cruel, had frightened him since he was a child, beaten him plenty of times to instill that fear, and seemed incapable of joy or mercy. When Seokjin was king someday, Dong-suk would have to go. Surely there was a man who could run the armies for Yeonhalbi and not give off the impression, true or not, that he was committing war atrocities –or, what seemed to be his father’s latest accusation, lying about unrest simply to get permission for a war. If nothing else, Seokjin would need a general he could say no to, who would listen to that no. In this fictional world where suddenly Seokjin knew the right thing to do and just needed people to execute his grand plans.

But how were you supposed to know? As he sat through the debate about Destin –which had his father and uncle arguing so loudly he thought they’d come to blows– all Seokjin could think was, how are you supposed to know? How did you know which wars were worth fighting? How did you know which sacrifices were worth making? Which risks worth taking? It was one thing to refuse a doubled guard because it was his own life at risk; it was another entirely to debate whether the time had come to handle Destin with overwhelming violence or if they could afford to ignore the new alleged raids happening along the Therepin border. Those were Yeonhalbin lives being lost either path you took.

All Seokjin could think was that it was good there were adults handling these decisions. Adult who knew what to do. But did they? They had all differing opinions. And he was an adult! At twenty-nine, shouldn’t he have a clear idea of the right things to do, the proper choices to make? Seok-ho had died at thirty-one, but by twenty-nine he’d already been so sure of himself.

Seokjin couldn’t even manage to be friends with a maid. He’d been so sure he was finally doing the right thing for her, for women in general. Finally taking a stand against Namjoon and his greed. Nasimiyu seemed happy about it but Dulce… damn. Dulce had really put him in his place about it, in a way he’d never expected. He felt like shit about the whole thing –that he’d gotten it so wrong, that he’d insulted her without meaning to, and maybe worst of all, that she’d chosen Namjoon.

She’d chosen him.

It didn’t matter whether it was just sex or something more. Dulce tolerated Seokjin’s jokes and drank hot chocolate with him and tried his culinary masterpieces in the kitchen, but when it came to actual attraction, her eyes went right to Namjoon. Not that Seokjin expected Dulce would choose him or anything, but couldn’t it have been anyone but Namjoon? If she wanted “just sex” so badly? Yoongi was right there! Hell, Jimin and Taehyung had made it annoyingly obvious she was welcome to their dick, and Jungkook had slid right in at the ball–

Who was he kidding? Seokjin knew he’d sulk at least a little no matter who she chose. For reasons he was not particularly interested in analyzing, thank you very much. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t personal. Maybe he just respected her opinions, and would have liked for her to think highly of him. Maybe he’d like to be chosen by someone for once. No one ever chose him. Nasimiyu wasn’t even choosing him, she was just stuck with him.

For some reason, girls always chose Namjoon. 

He failed to wipe the scowl from his face as he crossed paths with Namjoon and Mindeulle in the hall. It was pure coincidence; he would have simply avoided making eye contact and hurried away. Instead his gaze just happened to narrow as he came face to face with both of them.

“You can’t be like this forever, please, Seokjin,” Mindeulle leapt into the middle. 

For once, Seokjin said nothing, because he wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, he might owe Namjoon an apology. On the other hand, he meant what he’d said. In fact, he meant it even more now that Dulce had confirmed it was consensual. Looking at Namjoon’s dumb face and broad muscular body and incessant talking about intelligent and profound things and understanding now that this was what Dulce had been drawn to made feelings begin to boil again. So he kept his mouth shut. Because he could be intelligent and profound too and he thought Dulce knew that but apparently she didn’t like his kind of intelligent and profound, or at least not his face. And it didn’t matter because she was just the maid of his future wife but all the same. 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon mumbled and grabbed Mindeulle’s arm to drag her away.

“But–”

“I said it’s fine.”

Seokjin didn’t feel fine about any bit of it, and he didn’t appreciate Namjoon taking some kind of high road either. But all he could do was stride down the hall away from them, trying to look like he had not a single care in the world. He wanted to be that man again, the one who didn’t care, who didn’t worry, who just let himself be carried along by the inevitable and did his best because nothing more could be asked for. But ever since Nasimiyu had arrived, he’d been confronted again and again by all the ways his best was wrong or ridiculous or not good enough.

And now one of his bodyguards was either dead or betraying him. Personally, his money was on dead, but did he really know anyone? Anyone? Maybe Edmund had been tracking his movements or eavesdropping on things around the palace for months and just split because the time was right! That was better though. Otherwise a man had quietly died for him. It made him feel sick.

Seokjin needed out of here. He needed to get away from this place and people for a few days and decompress. Not Prince Seokjin, not Dong-gun’s leftover son, most certainly not the future king. He wanted to sit on a dinky little fishing boat and catch his own dinner and invent a new spice rub. He never got to go fishing these days. The most he managed was hiding away in his room and even that seemed impossible lately. His poor pets were suffering without him! Everything just felt too big and heavy.

Hands on his back made him jump and spin with a shout that Marks pretended not to see as Nasimiyu looked up at him with surprise. 

“Ah, you. Hey you,” he grinned at her, stumbling to match the energy that flowed just from her hands pressed against his chest and the curve of her lips.

“Nasimiyu. Your fiance. Remember me?”

“Yes, I think so,” he joked. “Um…” Her hand slid down his chest to tap his belt loop before she pulled her hands away. His mind tripped, confused by the openly fond way she looked at him now. Yes they’d had sex, but she seemed so different towards him than she had even before yesterday. 

“Are you rushing off to something important?” she asked him.

“No, leaving. Hoping to avoid anything else important today. Mundane activities only.”

“Oh. Hm. I had an idea, but it’s not very mundane.”

“Oh? Uh…” He looked up and down the hall but they were alone (except for Marks. Fucking Marks.) “What did you have in mind?” He figured he must be reading unintended flirtiness into her behavior and wasn’t disappointed by that fact. His mind was a million places at once right now and he did not feel up to the task of being a very good lover.

“I wanted to thank you. For taking me seriously yesterday.” She dropped her voice and clarified, “About Lord Namjoon and my maid.”

“Ah. Right. You don’t have to thank me. You’re to be my wife, of course I’ll take you seriously.” He gave her a serious nod to drive the point home.

“I know you’ve had to endure teasing about it. From your father and uncle.” Teasing wasn’t the word he’d use but it didn’t matter; he shrugged. “So let’s spend some time together.”

“Ah, I’m sorry Nasimiyu, I’m a little distracted this afternoon. I don’t have the energy to go out–”

“Not to go out, to stay in. Come on,” she said, taking his hand and tugging him along. He knew he must be misunderstanding, and truthfully he wanted to just go back to his room and be alone, but he also knew that Nasimiyu was being openly affectionate with him for the first time ever and he’d be an idiot not to encourage it. Wasn’t this what he had longed for –for years? His future bride tossing a coy smile over her shoulder and leading him by the hand to her bedroom? Shutting the door and the world outside and guiding his hands to the laces of her dress?

“Right now?” he asked with surprise.

“Something wrong? Do you have a schedule?”

“No. No, I just– I’m surprised. That’s all.” He wasn’t prepared for this, mentally. He willed himself to prepare as her clothing fell away –even though it felt all wrong. The sun was out. That had never occurred to him as something wrong for sex, but it’s what he blamed the wrongness on now. Or the stress of the day.

“Seokjin?”

“Sorry, I…” He almost told her that Edmund was missing but decided it was better not to frighten her. Not until he knew there was actually a reason to be frightened. “Just distracted. A lot on my mind today.”

“I don’t suppose your uncle had anything good to say today either, did he?” she asked. To his surprise, she didn’t seem angry about his confession or the delay. Her body was all feline grace as she walked, totally nude, to her vanity and removed her jewelry. “Just war war war, I supposed?”

“Yes. War war war.”

“I don’t like him,” she admitted, meeting his gaze through the mirror. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful. Why wasn’t his body responding to this beautiful woman standing so comfortably naked in front of him? 

“Me either.”

“I want him gone. As soon as possible,” Nasimiyu said.

Seokjin cracked a crooked grin and admitted, “I don’t make decisions like that.”

“Yet. Someday you will, when you’re king.”

“Yes, someday.”

“And we’ll get someone else to be our general then,” she said. “Right? Even my father would be better. Or maybe not my father, I don’t know, but someone we can trust not to– do you think the rumors about what he’s done are true?”

“I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard. I hope not. It’s making me cold; let’s not talk about him more while you’re naked. I don’t want those things to get crossed in my mind.”

“Yes, of course. But I just mean, you agree? That we’ll replace him?”

“It can be the very first thing we do someday.”

Nasimiyu turned back to him and took hold of the lapel of his jacket, all grins as she cooed, “Our first agreement for our future rule.”

“I hope we’ll agree on a lot more than that.”

“I’m sure we will. You’re far more reasonable than I initially thought. But right now, you seem overly burdened with your work today and taking care of that nonsense with Namjoon and my maid yesterday so let me take a load off your mind.”

“Uh… yes?” She nudged him backwards to the bed, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, undoing his belt and pants.

“You just lay back and do exactly as I say and I think we can both be very happy.”

Seokjin would have been a fool not to go along with this, and so he lay back, and tried to will his mind clear. He was a lucky man. With a beautiful bride. The way she rode him felt good, so good, what more could he possibly ask for?

***

“Hang these in the closet,” Mirte told her, draping the gowns across Dulce’s arms. “No need to linger, you’re going on a cleaning shift after that.”

Dulce’s arms itched beneath the heavy silks and velvets and beadwork –totally the wrong clothing for a salty city like Priva– as she complained, “Can’t I take them in the morning?” She suspected Nasimiyu was in the room and wasn’t in the mood to see her. She’d managed to avoid her since their argument, and was even more convinced now that she ought to keep herself scarce, in case somehow Seokjin’s shout had reached Nasimiyu’s ears: Keep your fucking hands off Dulce! Dulce was a failure at her mission. The target shouldn’t know your name like that.

Her getting assigned to laundry and cleaning had Nasimiyu’s other maids delighted, since it was obvious Dulce had fallen out of favor. She didn’t care; she was glad for the distance. 

“She’s wearing the orange tomorrow, it must be hung in there tonight, do not question your orders,” Mirte scolded. Older, gray-haired, a total bitch ever since Princess Simisola had insisted Dulce be brought along as part of Nasimiyu’s household despite her obvious bumbling skills as a maid. If Mirte had half a brain she knew there was something suspicious about it, but apparently she had the other half that wanted to keep her job and life and so she had accepted this inconvenience without further question. But plenty of barbs towards Dulce. 

Fine, Dulce would hang the gowns and leave quickly, no matter what Nasimiyu might say or do. How like her to demand a specific dress for the next day. Who cared? Grab something from your dozens of gowns already hanging and don’t force a maid to run around the palace with your ridiculously expensive clothing when she’d rather do the laundry and get some rest. 

Dulce knocked at the door and paused a moment to make sure Nasimiyu didn’t shout at her to go away. It was normal for servants to slip in and out otherwise unnoticed. They weren’t important, after all, not people, just tools, pieces of furniture there to serve the house without question or notice. 

The guard had to pull the door for her to slip inside, which she couldn’t do quietly with so much fabric draped over her. She could barely see around herself, a veritable moving mountain, as she shuffled sideways so as not to bash her shins on any wayward furniture or drag the hems and have to wash them all over again.

Which meant her mind lagged without a visual and with her senses focused on safety. The moans didn’t register at first, the dull thud of a mattress. The masculine shout coincided with the moment her mind registered the sounds, wait a moment. Instinct made her twist quickly to see the source of the cry just as Prince Seokjin leapt from the bed, dragging a sheet around his waist and turning his back to her.

Nasimiyu looked lazily over her shoulder, the long curve of her body stretched across the bed. She looked neither bothered nor surprised to see Dulce, as if she looked right through her. Dulce couldn’t decide if this was cruelty on display, if Nasimiyu had engineered her to walk in on her and the Prince fucking, or if Nasimiyu only meant her cold indifference at this happenstance to be the barb.

“Ah, hi… Dulce…” Seokjin stammered, body curled away from her as if he could disappear, as if she might not notice he was nude except for the sheet. Mid-fuck. Flushed and sweaty. Dulce’s insides grated against each other, shredding. “Uh…”

Nasimiyu rolled her eyes and insisted, “Come back to bed, Seokjin, she’s just hanging my gowns.”

Cruel cruel cruel. It was one thing to have listened to Nasimiyu wax poetic about Seokjin’s cock, it was another to interrupt their lovemaking. Dulce turned her back to them, desperate to look as unbothered. She didn’t want to give Nasimiyu the satisfaction. It didn’t matter if this had been intentional. It seemed like a game Nasimiyu might play to get revenge about Namjoon, to prove to Dulce how replaceable she was, the make sure she understood that Nasimiyu was fucking someone else too. Her future husband. She had no way of knowing Dulce would feel more bothered by Seokjin’s naked, muscular back than the soft curves covering the sharp edges of Nasimiyu’s anger. Dulce snipped quickly, easily, at the cords connecting her to Nasimiyu, but tangled herself up confronted by the prince. Naked. Interrupted mid-fuck. An image that would never leave her mind now. He looked even taller out of his clothes. There was definition to his leanness she had not anticipated, lines of muscle along his arms and across his stomach. Knowing how he ate, how was his waist so thin? 

And he’d just had his cock in Nasimiyu, that one she raved about so eloquently.

Dulce said nothing and moved as quietly as she could, as if she could undo her presence. She shuffled into the closet and drew deep, trembling breaths to control herself. She was good at control. There was nothing remarkable here. Just a servant going about their business while their mistress lived her life. She hung the gowns quickly, nauseated by every brush of her hand against the fabric. How stupid, how ridiculous that people were born into such different lives like that. Because of the circumstances of her birth, here was Nasimiyu, a princess spending her evening stretched out beneath a prince. And Dulce hung her gowns, each one probably worth more than her family’s entire property, gowns which must be delivered tonight so that Nasimiyu could wear the one of her choosing tomorrow, even while the princess was busy being fucked by a prince. The prince. 

It took an eternity to hang the damn gowns. Probably the hems were wrinkling and she’d done a bad job but fuck everyone, Dulce didn’t care. She wasn’t a laundress. She wasn’t even a fucking maid. She was sick of this whole fucking place and the people in it and her reason for being here was irrevocably broken. Nasimiyu’s cruelty had turned towards her now and she wasn’t going to sit around and be her punching bag, a plaything. She’d leave tonight and never look back and Prince Hamisi could throw his tantrum. Maybe she’d even go back to her family and move them. Maybe Prince Hamisi was full of bluff and shit anyway. Maybe she’d kill Prince Hamisi, just for fun. 

She tried not to look at either of them as she left the room. Nasimiyu lay on her back, chest clearly pushed up, probably hoping Dulce would notice her tits, ever vain. Prince Seokjin sat on the edge of the bed, blanket still wrapped around his waist, back to both women and face cast down and away. His shoulders slumped miserably. Poor baby, had he lost his erection? Not an exhibitionist? Good luck keeping up with Nasimiyu if one maid walking through was enough to interrupt him. Most men wouldn’t stop. Some men would make eye contact and enjoy the audience. Half the noblemen were probably fucking their maids anyway. King Dong-gun had been after all. Had it started when the Queen’s handmaid walked through the room, just like this? Had it been a secret at first, or had the Queen extended her hand and asked Taehyung’s mother to join? Nasimiyu extended her hand and Dulce saw her smile out of the periphery, almost like she was going to suggest it.

But Prince Seokjin wasn’t his father. Dulce couldn’t imagine he’d agree to that, not if he couldn’t even keep fucking his wife while a piece of furniture brought in the laundry. 

Dulce was only too glad to close the door behind herself. The guards laughed and she realized they had known what they were letting her in to. They thought it was funny, a maid passing into a room where people were fucking. Everyone was a sick voyeur, was that it?

No, in another situation Dulce might have seen the humor. She might have rolled her eyes about the whole thing. Maybe in a different situation, she would have invited herself. That was the dark thought she wouldn’t let her mind entertain –a world in which she didn’t hate Nasimiyu, in which Nasimiyu wasn’t angry with her, in which she would be invited into that bed and–

No, she wouldn’t let that fantasy linger for even a moment! She wouldn’t think about what she would do, what Nasimiyu would do, what the prince might do in that situation. Never. Some thoughts were too destructive to think, and right now she was frazzled and shocked and…

…and distressed. She recognized the pounding of her heart but at least it was invisible to anyone who saw her as she charged through the hallways of the palace and headed for the gate down to the street. Her mind turned to the idea of sex as a defense, to strip away the emotion. Because there was emotion. There shouldn’t be emotion. But Dulce felt stabbed in a place harder to reach, harder to heal. Maybe impossible to heal. Nasimiyu and the prince were only doing what was normal and their right to do and yet she felt…

It was time to go. Right this moment. There was no one and nothing to stop her. All this time her chains had only been made of loyalty and blackmail, far too weak to hold her. She broke free of them and focused only on the soft taps of her shoes against the stone steps as she took to the staircase leading to the sea wall and away from this cursed place. 

The sea wall would be the most direct path through Priva. She’d calm down by the time she reached the far side of the city and think of what to do and where to go next. Obviously she couldn’t stay here, not even in a city this large, because she’d see them. She didn’t want to be anywhere near them. No Marvono. No Therepin. Sartia? Destin? Maybe Rinsk. Nothing ever fucking happened in Rinsk, but then it would be hard to find work. Maybe she really should go south, find mercenary work instead of assassin work. Drink her way through a lot of money and hack things to death until a blade caught up to her and silenced it all. It wasn’t like there was anything else holding her anywhere for any reason.

Dulce sat heavily on one of the benches looking over the dark sea and let the wave of emotions crest over her head and roll further along without her. It was too much. Living life several steps ahead of emotion left her unprepared for the way feelings tore at her now. She couldn’t name them, couldn’t understand them, just knew that they were there and they were drowning her and she couldn’t endure this. She didn’t want to feel like this. She gripped the edge of the bench and breathed the humid, warm air in deep and tried to sink into the dark waves below, tried to let the loud crash of them breaking against the rocks drown out everything. Tried to match her heartbeat to their steady cadence. It was slow. A large wave broke and then several smaller ones failed to match it until the next large one came along. The noise of it felt like ringing in her ears. 

For a long time she sat there, letting herself be rocked by the sound of the waves. How unfair that Priva had to be on the sea. She liked the sea, she had learned that while living here. There was a sea on the far side of Paloma but she’d never been there. Maybe she ought to. She could go to Sartia to stay by the sea but it would mean dealing with more nobles and frankly she felt on the verge of a murderous rage from which no noble was safe. 

No nobles lived in Paloma. The Paloma sea was colder though, she was pretty sure. Further north. There was something about the sticky heat of this sea that would linger with her. She’d never come here again but she was glad to take this moment and let this feeling drown out everything else. This was what she would try to remember of her time in Priva –not evenings in the kitchen, not an afternoon drinking hot chocolate in an expensive cafe in the city, not ballrooms and ballgowns or longing to join the sparring in the yard or any of it. Fuck this place and all the people here.

She felt the eyes on her later than she ought to have. In a moment she knew someone was watching her and had been for a while. For a brief moment she wondered if it was Nasimiyu or the Prince –more likely to be him because Nasimiyu wouldn’t patiently await acknowledgement, but less likely to be him because why would he come after her? 

Slowly she turned her head to identify who it was. Her hand slid into her skirt for her blade –not the one Nasimiyu had given her, the one she actually preferred– as a hooded figure stepped along the seawall towards her. The person seemed to shy away from the others walking past, leaving a wide berth between themself and the evening strollers. Dulce realized how effectively she had blocked everyone out. The seawall was a popular destination at this time of evening, with the sun only just set. An unlikely place for anyone to threaten her but not impossible.

The woman sat on the bench beside Dulce and shifted the hood of her cloak just enough for Dulce to see her face, soft and nervous and not the least bit threatening. It took a moment longer for her to place where she had seen this person before: in court weeks ago. King Dong-gun had thrown her child and he’d been hurt.

Dulce felt her stomach cramp with the certainty that she was about to learn something she did not want to know.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said by way of introduction. “I’ve been looking for a way to cross paths with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes. You see, I need to get a letter to the prince, and I can’t trust anyone to deliver it for me. You were kind before, when my child was injured, and you are in proximity to him. You serve his fiance, the Princess.”

“Anyone might deliver a letter,” Dulce pointed out. 

“I’ve been trying to catch you for a week,” the woman continued. “I need to be sure the letter gets to him, it’s very important. And… and I have to ask that you don’t read it. It’s for the prince’s eyes only. It’s very important.”

“What makes you think I won’t read the letter the way anyone might? Why me?”

The woman laughed, a sad laugh, and admitted, “I don’t know that. I have to take the risk. I’m desperate.” She held the letter out with a trembling hand. 

“What’s in the letter?”

“I can’t tell you.” The woman hesitated, then added, “I’m trying to keep my children safe. That’s all. I don’t know you and I know you don’t owe me anything, but I’m just a mother trying to keep her children safe.”

Dulce took the letter. She felt the woman’s close study as she tucked it into her pocket.

“I don’t know why you’d trust me,” Dulce admitted, “but I’ll deliver your letter.”

“When my child was hurt, you were the first to move to help.”

“My mistress helped. And the prince.”

“You were the first to move, I saw it. You were the only one to see us out afterwards and ask if my son was all right. You gave my children candy…” Dulce had. She’d swiped it from the kitchen on her way to find the women and her sons before they left the palace that day, hoping the gesture would loosen the woman’s lips and she could understand why King Dong-gun had reacted so strangely at the sight of her. The answer to her questions might very well be in that letter.

“That doesn’t make me a good person. Anyone could read your letter and sell your secrets.”

The woman nodded and closed her eyes. Everything about her seemed a breath away from shattering.

“I know that. I’m begging you not to.”

“I won’t,” Dulce found herself agreeing. “I’ll deliver your letter, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“When?”

“I can leave it in his room tonight,” Dulce suggested. He’s not in there anyway.

“No, no, please hand it to him. I can’t risk that he misses it.”

“All right, I’ll hand it to him tomorrow morning,” Dulce said. Maybe it was a lie. She hadn’t planned on going back to the palace. She’d see what was in the letter and then decide.

“Thank you.” The woman looked like she wanted to say more, her eyes watering and catching the silvery moonlight. She had a beautiful face. Sad, but beautiful. Instead she simply said, “Thank you,” again and then quickly departed.

Dulce didn’t love finding out the woman had been specifically trying to catch her, though in a way she could understand why. Small gestures could have big impacts. She didn’t think anyone had noticed Nasimiyu didn’t move when the child was hurt until Dulce did. Maybe everyone had.

The letter was burning a hole in her pocket now. She wanted to open it but not where the woman would see her, just in case she still watched. Sympathy for the woman cut through her own noisy emotions; curiosity managed the rest. At least it was only herself she had to manage. She couldn’t imagine trying to make it in this world with children. What a curse to have children whom you loved but born into a life in which you couldn’t protect them.

Dulce rose and returned to the palace, where she could be sure of finding a place to read the letter where the woman couldn’t see. The laundry was quiet at night, since the noise would wake the nobles in the nearby wing, so she went there and leaned against the wall to carefully pry up the seal with a candle and the blade of her knife. The fact that the woman had a seal already struck her as odd and she wished she knew anything about the symbol on it.

Inside, the message was simple: Please meet with me on the first day of the sunflower festival by the clock tower. It concerns your brother and the danger you are now in too. Hoya told me to say this if I needed your help: Hoya broke the blue vase.

Dulce read the message again and again and searched the paper but couldn’t make sense of it. This didn’t seem to be about her sons at all. Who was Hoya? Someone they both must have known, someone who had a secret message with Seokjin. It was curious. It made her curious. She liked to be on the knowing side of secrets. But more importantly, this woman seemed to know something about his dead brother and an implication of danger towards the Prince.

Was it about Nasimiyu’s plot? Probably not; Nasimiyu’s family had nothing to do with Seok-ho’s death. Probably there were other plots. Maybe it had to do with the missing bodyguard? Dulce was unsettled about the disappearance, even though it wasn’t any concern of hers. It wasn’t her fault if the prince got himself killed with weak security. Yes, it would lead to a failure of Nasimiyu’s plan but quite frankly, Dulce didn’t care about Nasimiyu’s plan anymore. She hated Nasimiyu. She hated the prince.

She didn’t hate the prince, she was just angry with him. For fucking Nasimiyu? No, no, yes, but no. For fighting Namjoon on her behalf. For making assumptions about her. For not seeing her through the disguise. It was all stupid. She wasn’t drunk but she didn’t want to look closer at it.

What if the brother mentioned was Taehyung, not Seok-ho?

She resealed the letter and shoved it back into her pocket, not sure whether to deliver it. Maybe if she didn’t, the prince would get killed and Nasimiyu’s plan would be ruined. 

But the prince would be killed.

But he was going to get killed anyway, no matter what.

But she didn’t want to be around to see it.

She went to her room. She’d grab her things and leave and decide at the last minute whether to deliver the letter. The servants’ dorms were mostly quiet at this time of night; she had only the faintest light to work by. She dragged out her bag and packed as quietly as she could. The last thing she needed was someone waking up and asking where she was going and why. Abandoning her post would bring some of them joy but they wouldn’t want her to get away without trouble.

She needed to lift her mattress to get a few things from beneath it –nothing valuable, because that was the most obvious place to look, but things that looked sentimental, so she’d look like a normal maid if anyone did snoop. A little hedgehog, for example. 

When she crouched to lift it though, she noticed a book sitting on the foot of her bed. Book four of the Kalamouche series. She knew who it was from the instant her fingers brushed the title. Who else would send her a copy of this book? She’d already read this one, but he didn’t know that because the last time it had briefly come up in the kitchen, she’d only admitted to reading two and three.

The note fell out as she opened the front cover: 

I’m sorry. 

Dulce felt an uncomfortable throb in her chest. I’m sorry.

For what?

When had he sent this here? It was him, she would have recognized his handwriting from the papers on his desk, he was the only one this made sense for. Even if it didn’t make sense. Was he sorry about fighting Namjoon? Or sorry for thinking she was some young, unsexed, innocent child? Or sorry for airing her affair in the middle of a courtyard for all to hear? 

Or sorry to be caught in bed with her mistress, his fiance?

It couldn’t be the last one. Really it couldn’t be any of them. What did he mean, sending her this stupid book with this stupid little unsigned note? A prince had no business apologizing to a maid. A prince had no business giving a gift to a maid. How dare he? How dare he act like this and be so stupid and make her so confused and make it so difficult for her to leave?

She couldn’t leave.

She slumped against her bed and closed her eyes, the book clutched in her lap alongside the hedgehog from that day in the city. Usually it was in her pocket but she had shoved it under the mattress after they’d argued in the kitchen, as a show of her anger that no one would see but herself. 

I’m sorry too, she allowed the words to form in her mind, the letter she would write if things were different. I’m sorry that I let myself get too close to you. I’m sorry that you were born into this life you don’t seem to want and that you will always be in danger for the rest of it. I’m sorry that you don’t get to wander the city and enjoy the mundane things in life the way you want to. I’m sorry that you are going to marry Nasimiyu and she will never be the woman you deserve. I’m sorry that you’re so stupid you’d fight your cousin for my honor or dignity or safety or whatever noble idea you had. I’m sorry that I am not who you think I am, I have lied to you every day I’ve been here, but I’m sorry that some truth snuck through too and you were tricked into believing that was all of me. I’m sorry that I came here to help you along to your death. I’m sorry that even though it won’t be me, someone else will do it instead, because you weren’t born with the venom and claws you need to survive.

But it won’t be me that does it.

She wished she could write a letter to Nasimiyu, too, but then it would give everything away. I’m sorry, Simi, but you are never going to be queen.

Dulce tucked the hedgehog back into her pocket, alongside the letter, alongside the other letters she had sewn into the foot of the mattress and now tugged free –the ones Seokjin had written to his betrothed. She wouldn’t read them. She didn’t want to. Instead she would sneak them back into his room tomorrow, and then she would give him the letter from the woman with the sons, and then she would find whatever it took to unequivocally expose Prince Hamisi and the Marvonese family’s treason to King Dong-gun and Prince Seokjin.

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[silvyavan]

Bada bing bada boom, I'm seeing fucken parallels over this chapter

Right off the bat, we can see that both Noelle and Yuno are paralleling Asta in two different battles of sorts.

Yuno is directly paralleling/being a foil to Asta vs Lucius, from new spell shit and weaponry to being low on time he can use against Lucius, while the foil itself comes in the fact that Yuno sliced Lucius in the same way Lucius did with Asta as a form fo revenge. The problem is that, in ass backwards way like Asta, Lucius doesn't stay dead and instead catches Yuno off guard, foreshadowing to how Asta would likely catch Lucius off guard. Whether this is a sign that Yuno's gonna get the same treatment as Asta, by being run down through sheer physical mana strain, contrast to how Asta was run down by psychological strain, this is a big flag for trouble.

Noelle is paralleling Asta vs Lucifero. Coming in with a new form and shoulder critter, with having maternal beef over the enemy but using it to become stronger regardless. Her family members and the squad present are falling apart at the seams and Noelle has to tank her opponent on her own. One big foil to this is how Noelle is seen to struggle with Acier in this case and then later the Lucius clones and other sentries are arriving, similar to how Lucifero at first is limited to fighting Asta and then LATER the captains, Yuno and then Yami and Nacht. Whether she STAYS in Lucifero's role or not is also up in the air like Yuno's position.

Even the BLOODSTAINS and FORMS are parallel to the fights.

Noelle, like Asta, grows additional horns and a more specialised armor in battle as a sign of more power, having also features that make the form more armor like but later become like a second skin. Both Asta AND Noelle fought/are fighting in a more aggressive approach as well. Hell, Noelle's horns are similar to Asta's second horns too.

Yunos form is more tame and focuses more on newer/advanced techniques and weapons, like how Asta was using multiple swords and the condensed black forms. Yuno's HELLA mad but he's doing this calculating and aware of how the people around him are affected by the fight. Similar to how Asta says to Lily to get back and yells for the civilians to evacuate, Yuno is using his abilities to up his allies and counter Lucius' time/soul magic.

Yuno has blood trails that go from jawline to cheek to eye like Asta and Liebe share and was seen when Lucius realised he can't use either magic on Asta.

Noelle has blood trails that go AROUND the cheek, which is primarily something we first saw more prominently in Lucifero fight and a signifier of a more combined/true devil union Asta and Liebe.

And THEN, in the second half of the chapter, we get the Witch Queen (I knew she'd be relevant eventually), Vanessa and Dorothy use their combined magic and a spacial mage (I see you Langris, you're not getting out of the Finral parallels bitch) to create the DOORS OF DESTINY.

Blood (Yuno and Asta considering each other family despite being both orphans and unrelated, Noelle and Asta coming from different social castes of nepotism, both Yuno and Noelle being of Royal blood),

Dream (both Asta and Yuno having the same dream of changing the world, Noelle achieving a new dream and hope through Asta, Noelle and Yuno both having dreams of proving their strength to people close to them).

AND Fate Magic (THE FACT THAT ASTA IS THE REASON WHY NOELLE AND YUNO BOTH HAD THEIR FATES CHANGED AND BECAME STRONGER)

all combined to create a door which, IN THE DIRECT TRANSLATIONS, LETS YOU MEET AND SEE THE PERSON YOU WANT TO SEE THE MOST!!

AND THE DIRECT NEXT PANEL IS ASTA!!! BITCH!!!

THIS IS GIVING SOME FUCKEN, STARCROSSED LOVERS SHIT. YOU DONT PUT SOMETHING WUTH DESTINY IN THE NAME WITHOUT IT BEING CHARGED WITH SOMETHING PLATONIC!!!

There's 3 more weeks left of June but by GOD, if Tabata does some foreshadowing of Noelle, Yuno and Asta all together being a poly-couple endgame, I WILL COMBUST

[reyxlight]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝗧𝗟𝗢𝗦 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗖

A Xanthous x Lampton fanfic

TW ;; death, mentions of war

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 the courtyard. It had been a while since he felt this sense of panic. Fear consuming him over the status of his lover. He had to be alive…Xanthous probably wouldn’t be able to handle loss.

Wouldn’t be able to handle it? What was he even thinking? He's lived for centuries, experienced countless deaths…why would this one be any different? He frowned at this realisation. What made this different? Why was Xanthous…scared?

“Sir Xanthous?"

The yellow fairy turned, and it didn't take long for the joy and relief to be seen on his face. “Lampton.” he responded, feeling much more at ease.

The two embraced and for a moment, all that fear that Xanthous felt earlier washed away. He was left feeling the serenity of his lover’s warm hold.

But that serenity didn’t last long. Xanthous pulled away from the hug and looked into the hazel eyes that were in front of him. “Is everything alright in the Charming Kingdom? How are your troupes?”

“Fine as of right now. However I fear the worst is yet to come. Everyone has their guard up. What about the Council? I imagine you are all equally piled up with work.”

Xanthous nodded with a sigh. “Unfortunately so.”

The two sat on a bench in the courtyard, staring up at the night sky. The silence was nice, it felt like someone had put a pause on the problems in the world to let the two men have a moment of peace next to each other. Xanthous glanced over at Lampton as a thought crossed his mind. “Gosh, you’re so handsome.”

Xanthous saw his red eyes in the reflection of Lampton’s hazel ones as the realisation hit. “I think I just said that out loud, didn't I?”

He responded with a wide grin. “Yeah.”

Xanthous leaned down and nestled his head on Lampton’s shoulder. He paid extra care in making sure he was keeping his flames in control so as to not hurt the head of the royal guard. The duo continued to sit in silence before hearing someone call for Lampton.

They got up and brushed off. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you next in battle?”

Lampton nodded. “We will come out of this victorious.”

“I hope so. I do not wish for everyone’s efforts to be in vain.”

“Indeed..” after a pause, Lampton walked off, turning behind before he was out of sight. “See you on the other side.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

The middle of a war is never exciting. Most are used to the constant pattern of fighting day in and day out and nothing seems interesting anymore. So it was safe to assume everyone was very eager for the final battle to commence. That would determine a winner. That would end this whole mess.

So when the literary army announced the final battle to occur that night, everyone felt the anticipation. The eagerness to be free of the tyranny that was the villains’ rule.

After hours of hard work and determination, the literary army saw its demise. Crowds of people cheered as the war came to an end. Joy could be felt all across the kingdom as every village and town celebrated this victory.

The fairy council walked around the Charming Kingdom, checking up on the residents and inspecting the casualties. As they arrived at the Palace, Xanthous heard a familiar voice call his name. Upon the sight of Sir Lampton, Emerelda looked over to the council and said, “We should head into the Palace and check on the royal family. Xanthous, why don’t you check in on the guards?”

She gave him a knowing smile as she led the rest of the council into the throne room. Xanthous prayed that his face wasn't as flushed as he felt it was. He turned to Lampton and smiled.

“We won.” The soldier had a joyous grin.

The two embraced in a hug before pulling away slightly and sharing a kiss. A tender moment for the couple. However as Xanthous looked at Lampton, he watched as the hazel eyes widened in shock. He felt himself get pushed to the side.

His sight was blurry, voices muffled. All he heard was the sound of Lampton telling him to watch out. Xanthous watched as the guard’s body was seen dropping to the ground. Rage consumed Xanthous and before he knew what had truly happened, he watched a member of the Playing Card Army fall to the ground as well. Fairy Council members, the royal guard and the royal family rushed outside to figure out why there was so much commotion.

Xanthous was by Lampton’s side. The soldier had an arrow impaled in him. He was still smiling. Xanthous cradled Lampton in his arms. At that moment, he did not care about his relationship being secretive. None of that mattered.

“Stay with me.” He hugged Lampton tightly. “Please.”

“I'm fine Sir Xanthous, really.”

“Stop saying I’m fine when you’re not.” Xanthous held his clothes close to the wound to stop any further bleeding. “It’s fine to say I’m not fine.”

Lampton felt his own breath slow down. “Perhaps..I’m not fine..”

Xanthous hated those words more. But he didn’t say it. Instead he turned to the Council members. He was met with various faces, none of which were hopeful for Lampton’s survival. “Why would you do that? You had so many years ahead of you. I’ve lived long enough.”

Lampton had a pained smile on his face. “I made a promise when I became a member of the royal guard….” He gasped for breath. “I would put my life on the line for anyone. And I intend to keep that promise. Besides, I would never regret saving your life dear.”

Xanthous took Lampton’s hand and pressed it on his forehead. “Still…”

“I appreciate all of you. Xanthous, thank you for showing me a new perspective on the world. But now I must join the others on a different side. Don’t let our story go unheard Xanthous. So many people lost their lives…they deserve to be remembered. Now, I get to protect them again.”

Those were the last words from Sir Lampton. Selfless, as expected from a top ranking member of the Charming Army. Xanthous watched as he felt Lampton go limp in his arms. He felt the tears and did not attempt to stop them.

He knew what he had to do. He learnt why this love was different from the rest. Sure, he was scared. And yes, he had seen countless deaths over the years. But he learnt through his relationship with Lampton that his purpose was to keep their legacy alive. Xanthous knew that no one would ever forget Lampton, or any of the fighters of the war for that matter, and their service. He would make sure of it. That was part of his role. And he intended to keep his promise till he took his last breath. Just like Lampton did to save him.

Well that was fun :D

This was a fic i wrote for @timecma for his birthday last year (yes…i wrote character death…for a birthday present- listen i gotta stay true to my writing style alright/j). this fic took me…5? months to write mainly because it was during my writing block months right after some of my exams. have i gotten out of writing block? hahaha no. it’s unfortunately…still haunting me….some day…some day.

Anyways another land of stores related post. it’s something i’ve been able to work on slightly more recently thanks to my friends who are tlos fans cause i can get the motivation and ideas easily. and i have stuff to make for the fandom thanks to this motivation ^^

now it might actually be a while till i post next due to mock exam prep but till we meet again <3

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hiya, I was rewatching black clover and realized smth about team E. So finral didn't join cause he was rlly injured (in a coma?) Hamon managed to join the royal knight. Leopold however couldn't. Although Leopold managed to break the crystal (not on time). Do u think there is a reason for this or maybe the higher ups thought they would need hamon more for this?

Btw I rlly love ur content.

Hiya! ^^

Hmmm... This is a very good question tbh. Now, before I begin to speculate, I must admit that half the time I forget the existence of the Royal Knights arc, and as I recall, I fast-forwarded some of the scenes while watching the anime, because I didn't find it particularly interesting. (Though there were a couple of very interesting points, as well as wonderful characterizations of eg Zora, which gave depth to their personalities.)

Moving on to the actual answer....

If someone higher up didn't have a hand in play to protect Leo, which I could pretty much see to be only the decision of a direct family member, it could be about expectations. As in, Leo, as royalty, I would consider as a late bloomer as well, just like Noelle. His skills aren't seen as great as his siblings, which is really unfair because they're comparing over 10 years worth of experience with magic, fighting, and ... being a knight. But he is seen as, as much as it pains me to type, "lesser" Vermillion. And, from the point of view of a higher up, would you want to put someone who is supposed to be capable and is rich in mana, but one that you consider as incompetent, on the battle field and a kind of spot light? Not really, because it might shake the societal structure of Clover.

In layman's terms, there could be a line of thought of "we must not let such a disgrace to royalty into these circles. His downfall would make all of us look bad". Now, again, this is doing very very very veeeerrrryyyyyy wrong on Leopold.

Noelle at least has managed to find her place in her squad, and though Leo seems to be at home at the CLK too, the difference is that Noelle has become stronger by learning to be a team player. She's been introduced to new ideas and she's had to adapt, while Leo is still stagnant in the same tips and ideas that don't work for him specifically. Fue's (and Mereo's) training method's might work for them, but it doesn't mean that they'd work for Leo, and thus, Leo stayed stagnant for a very long time, while Noelle managed a lot of growth.

Or. Then it could be, that as a Royal Knights' Captain, Mereo decided that she won't bring her other little brother onto a field of battle. Maybe she was sentimental and wanted to shield Leopold.

Or then, as you suggested, Hamon was just more useful.

Only Tabs knows

Thanks for dropping by! ^^ AND. I AM GLAD THAT YOU ENJOY MY CONTENT!! 🥺❤️‍🔥

[dangermousie]

And the winner of oldie but goodie rewatch context (conducted mainly in my head) is 2017 epic romance General and I, one of my Top 20 dramas and one they don’t make like any more. @aysekira​, @tomorrowsdrama​ wanna join?

I adore Wallace Chung and I am very fond of Angelababy (come at me! IDNGAF), their chemistry is fucking insane, it’s a big kingdoms in conflict epic (with one of my favorite antagonists, who goes on an arc from hero to antihero to monster and you get why every step of the way), and this is THE THE THE enemies while lovers romance!

He is the best general of one kingdom, she is loyal to a rival kingdom (and an excellent strategist) and for a decent chunk of the story their courtship involves her trying to murder him or destroy his forces as he swoons harder and she’s turned on. Eventually they throw their lot together and become a super couple. This is grey around the edges the way censors would not allow in 2023. Wallace’s Chu Bei Jie is not just a good warrior; he’s smart but also utterly ruthless; it is his own actions in the beginning that create the very antagonist he must fight at the end. Every royal ruler we meet is various degree of dumb or awful. Chu Bei Jie serves an unworthy king. The king of Ping Ting’s kingdom is a monster etc. The body count is nuts. There is a whole lot of backstabbing and GASP overthrow of dynasties. There is enough kissing and similar to make 2023 censors spit blood. I mean, the drama leaves you in no doubt those two FUCK A LOT AND HAVE A GREAT TIME. Ping Ting is not demure or giggly or naive but ruthless and murdery. He Xia, our antagonist, becomes more and more monstrous as he acquires more power but his choices are to do that or be dead and he is ultimately as sympathetic as tragic as horrific - you watch this shining chevalier fall from grace and by the end being put down is the kindest thing that could happen to him. His romance with Yao Tian, a princess he marries for power but genuinely falls in love with, just not enough to give up his quest, is honestly one of the most tragic things out there. (It’s GMP only if FL was smarter and tougher and still lost.)

Also, and why the caps above, it has literally my fave cdrama kiss scene of all time. Ping Ting has come to find Chu Bei Jie after he narrowly survived a battle and things look grim. Their loyalties are still complicated. But they’d die for each other.

And she starts taking care of his wounds without a word and he is in literal pain but is SO UTTERLY HUNGRY FOR HER!

These are the first words she says in the entire scene.

And he just pulls her to him.

Down goes the bloody towel.

And then he yanks her onto his lap, and these are the first words he says in the whole scene.

And he just pounces. These are two people who have previously stabbed each other. And no, I don’t mean a sexy euphemism, I mean with literal swords. Yet here they are.

And the camera cuts away.

I am sorry, they are from enemy kingdoms, he’s shirtless and bleeding and defeated in battle if I remember correctly, and she’s taking care of his wounds and they are sucking face like they need it for oxygen and they are on furs and like THIS IS MY ID MANIFEST.

[cyanidedrinkers]

EDRYGUHI

Sooo i'm really glad that Fortnite Battle royal doesnt have proximity chat- Ooo i play fortnite. Yeah, And COD- Ngl it's a pretty fun game if you can ignore the sweats, I normally play with friends so i'm more focused on just having fun then winning most of the time. I dont like a lot of the people or sweats but it's fun to almost feel their hatred towards you when you shoot them with nothing but a pistol and kill them Anyways- When i lock in i do a couple things, It's interchangeable, I either A. Start singing whatever music i have playing B. Cuss like a sailor (Doesnt happen all the time. Normally towards sweats that are being persistent/targeting) C. Go quite or D. Become reeeeally philosophical- So if Fortnite had Proximity chat all someone would here is me aggressively singing Dolly Partons: 9-5 or California girls really loud as i fight them Or If i'm fighting someone i know has interacted with my skin before (I normally play as Deadpool or Gambit) They'll just here some BS like: "Why must you hurt every version of yourself? Does your self hate really run that deep that you feel the need to beat yourself while you're down" -fighting another deadpool As Deadpool "Oh my- I give you all of myself, my heart, my soul, and my body but all you do is tear me down. Why must i give you my all just for you to take it from me" -Fighting Wolverine As Deadpool Or "I thought we were friends- Does battling alongside each other mean nothing to you anymore. Am i no longer your brother as we have gone separate paths. Is it so easy for you to hurt those who you once held dear to you?"- Fighting Wolverine as Gambit And my favorite: "Bitch-" -Dying or just being aggressively shot at

I concern my friends alot while playing

[the-fiction-witch]

The Black Water

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Lancel Lannister Couple - Lancel X Reader Reader - (OC) Lyanna Baratheon (Daughter of Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon Legitmized Bastard) Rating - 15 + War / Death / threat / looming threats Word Count - 1877

Lancel stood on the docks of King's landing, in the shadow of the red keep. War had long been looming, but it was known that someday... Soon. Stannis and his forces would arrive to take King's landing. And all those here would have to defend it... Or die. He watched as the small boat made its way out of the harbour carrying Princess Marcella to Dorne where she would be safe, many noble ladies and young lords went with her. All those who couldn't fight or those whose blood needed protecting. But some remained… servant girls resigned to their fate, the queen regent Cersei remained as a show of faith, as did Lady Sansa, King Jofferys betrothal both staying here as a show of faith that they would win the battle.

Another who remained was Princess Lyanna Baratheon, King Robert's first daughter, a legitimised bastard. She stood far from the other royals

"Lady Lyanna," Lancel approached the Princess as the last of the rowboats left the harbour. "I understand you are remaining in the city?"

"I remain by the side of My king, my half-brother. And for all those in Kings Landing," she nodded,

"That is admirable of you," Lancel tried to sound respectful but knew that he did not do a good job. "But you are still a Princess. A Princess of House Baratheon. I think I speak for everyone that if the keep were to fall, you should be a high priority…"

she chuckled quietly eyes still on the water "The queen regent, doesn't think so" She briefly glanced at Cersei as she began the walk to the keep

"I am well aware," Lancel responded dryly. "As I said, I think I speak for everyone else when I say you should be one of the first out of here." He paused a moment. "...Do you wish to be saved? Should the keep fall?"

"... I have hope, that should the city fall. My uncle would not be unkind to me"

"Uncle... you speak of Stannis. Of the Lord of Dragonstone." Lancel paused. "That man has no love in his heart for anyone within these walls."

"I do not believe he has love for me. I believe he will have mercy for me. As his brother's daughter."

"I hope you're right," Lancel responded in a rare show of sincerity. "For your sake." he sighed a moment before he spoke once more, "What if the city holds?" He asked. "What if Stannis is defeated?"

"Then I'm sure my half-brother will hold feasts and tourneys where all of us shall rejoice and prosper in peace." She nodded

"You trust too much in that," Lancel mumbled under his breath. "foolish, spoiled boy."

"I do not trust him." She chuckled "I trust his men. I trust his army, his lords, his advisors all men who have seen battle enough to know it better than him." she nodded before she turned and began the walk back inside to the red keep,

"Perhaps," Lancel responded. "But the King is their leader. He sets the rules and decides the path. A foolish and spoiled boy at the head of an army is still a foolish boy." Lancel continued to walk alongside Lyanna, his cloak billowing behind him in the afternoon wind. "Is that where you find your hope?"

"no, I find hope in numbers, in walls, in the experienced men who will take charge... I know my half-brother is a fool who never once led a horse to water let alone an army to battle, but I imagine louder, hopefully smarted voices will be above his that night. I'm sure the queen regent will not allow him much harm anyway"

"Your faith is admirable," Lancel said. He walked in silence for a bit, taking in the city that might burn before nightfall. "Wh- what of us? Do...we... have any hope of survival? Should the keep fall and Stannis gains entry? The city will likely burn."

"... True, I don't know. But I can be hopeful"

Lancel nodded, though he couldn't share her hope. In his experience, there was no hope left. "I see two options then. Survival or Death. You are staying to fight for survival. I am staying for my oaths, but I fear I will still die regardless."

"Without your oath? Without your debt to the king for making you a knight and lord... Would you stay?"

"Without my oaths to the king or gods?" He shook his head. "No. There is nothing holding me here. Only my oaths and my debt have had me stay in this forsaken city." he explained, “Without them, I’d have packed my things and turned tail for Casterly Rock months ago.”

"... And me?" She asked, "Would you stay if I asked you?"

That question hit him hard. "If you asked me to stay?" His eyes met hers. "If... If you asked me to stay, I... I would stay. For you."

"I have hope in your lancel, I know you will man the walls with the king when the battle comes... I have hope and faith in you"

The young lord let out a breath, and a slight smile appeared on his face. "You trust in my abilities with a sword more than I."

"Tell me" she briefly stopped "if I asked you... To gather your things and your sword, for us to leave the castle and keep before the fall of night. To escape this place in the hope we might live... Would you?"

Lancel paused. The thought of abandoning the King and the Throne ran through his head. His honour told him that it was a treasonous thought, one he shouldn't entertain. But … "Yes," he replied. "I would go with you."

"you would? You would run away with me? Forget your oaths and take the king's road like smallfolk. To Casterly rock with your uncle... To Winterfell with mine?"

"Yes." The word slipped from his mouth, the words coming easier than before. "We would forget Westeros and our oaths and our lives. It would be you and I and the road."

"... As sweet as it would be, Joffrey would send the hound to hunt us down before we made It past Harrenhall. We must remain. Princess and knight. As the city ... Meets its fate"

"I would fight off the Hound for you." Lancel took her hand. "For you, I would fight an army of Hounds and knights and Kings." He sighed, returning back to reality. "But you are right. You are a Princess and I am a Knight. And the city will burn."

she nodded "Lancel?"

"Yes?"

"... When Stannis arrives... When night falls... When the battle begins... Do not fight for your king."

That caught him off guard. For a moment, it seemed like the words echoed around them. Lancel was lost for words, before finally speaking. "What do you mean," he whispered. "Who... Whom should I fight for then?"

"Do not fight for a king you have no faith in. For a king would make you fall on your sword because it amused him. Do not fight for the smallfolk in the city, who would rob you of every coin you have if they could, do not fight for the lord's and ladies that have hidden themselves away or ran for the hills... When you take the city walls sword in hand, I want you to fight for something that makes you want to fight, want to survive." She explained holding his hand in both of hers "would you fight... For me lancel?"

A silence fell upon them as she spoke. Her words rang true, and he had thought the same himself many many times before. "I would fight for you," he whispered. "I would fight and die for you. No King. No Throne. Just you."

she smiled "as I would for you"

Lancel's heart skipped a beat. Her words rang in the back of his head, giving him more confidence then he had ever had. "If we both survive this night," he muttered. "If this city survives…”

"yes, Lancel?"

He took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. "May I marry you?"

she nodded her eyes welling with tears of joy "When the battle is over, if I live... I will find you, if you're alive I will marry you by dawn. If you are dead... I will grieve you until the end of my days, and never take a husband." she stroked his cheek softly,

Lancel's heart fluttered at her confirmation that she felt the same way. That she trusted him and believed in him. He tried not to cry, but a tear still appeared in his eye. "I will be alive," he said firmly resting his hand against hers and holding her hand to his cheek, "I will survive this night. I will survive Stannis. I will survive all my enemies so I can wed you."

"... And if I don't?"

A silence fell between them as Lancel considered the question. A question he never wanted to think of. He looked at her face, studying the woman in front of him, committing every feature to memory. "If you don't survive," he whispered, "I will spend every day of my life remembering you. I will live a life unworthy of you. I will never marry another, I will never look at another woman again."

"you don't need to-"

"Yes I would," he insisted. His grip on her hands became tighter. "I swear to you, I will never love another woman like I love you. I will fight and I will survive and then I will marry you." he told her holding her close, "You have my word."

"you have my word, I will do the same..." She nodded "but... If the city burns, and neither of us survives. I shall be waiting for you and marry you with the seven as our witness"

"We will both survive," Lancel reassured her, giving her hands a squeeze. "We will both survive." He repeated, hoping that if he said it enough it would come true. Or maybe it was for his own assurance. "And then we will be wed by Dawn."

she nodded in agreement "You should... Prepare for the battle"

He wanted to protest. To hold onto her forever. Anything so they wouldn't have to move on. But she was right. "If... If this is it..." Lancel stepped close to Lyanna and reached his hand up to brush the hair from her face. He wanted to memorize her features. Her eyes, her nose, "Then I want to remember you like this."

"as do I" she smiled "Will you let me see you off? Before you go?"

"I would like that very much," he whispered, savouring the feeling. "It will give me something to fight for."

"Then I will come to your room before you leave for the city walls" She nodded before she moved away and made her way inside the keep

It was all so sudden. Her promise of returning. Him asking her to marry him. The upcoming battle. It was all so insane. Lancel watched her walk away, feeling a pang in his gut. He wanted to call out and tell her he loved her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her. But it was too soon. She would come to his room later. And then he could hold her again. He took a breath and turned to start the journey back to his quarters.

[sky-high-my-beloved]

Why did DR. COFFIN no longer continue publishing fanfics?

DR. COFFIN began publishing his fanfics about Sky High for the first time on Nov 3, 2005, this being "Flight" with Warren Peace as the protagonist since she is, in his own words, his favorite character.

May 18, 2006: It would be the day on which Sky High would publish the series: a synopsis compilation with his writing partner WARRENFIRE.

WARRENFIRE: I publish 84 synopsis. DR. COFFIN: published 78 synopsis.

(Remember that these are in no specific order.)

As it says in the same publication, they decided to only publish 5 stories chosen by the fans since they did not believe they could write them all. From the votes it was decided to change the number to 14 of which were going to be written but only a few arrived and others were deleted since they were published on the WARRENFIRE account which disappeared, leaving only the message below.

Published: Dec 18, 2006: but moving on to the controversial issue, WARRENFIRE showed a fanaticism for Sky High which is not known how it ended, since if we go to his account we can see that his love for the movie turned to hatred for it, it is not known why, perhaps a fight or a disagreement but as DR. COFFIN in the story "Sky High Christmas Special: Snow Ball Fight" disappeared.

DR. COFFIN, Note:

As many of you know, this idea was a joint effort by myself and Warrenfire to give us all something as close to a Sky High tv series as we're likely to ever get (at least until Paul Hernandez gets the rights back from Disney unless they wake up and realize they're sitting on a million dollar opportunity). It has been fun, and Warrenfire and I have bounced over a hundred ideas (EACH) off of each other to come up with a series. Sadly, things haven't worked out as well as we had hoped. Recent events at home have really screwed up my time to get anything written, resulting in long delays that have frustrated me to no end. Combine this with the fact that Warrenfire has apparently dropped off the face of the earth after deleting all the episodes he "produced" so far, and things don't look so good for this idea to continue. But that depends entirely upon you, the readers. Do you want me to continue this series of stories? There are a lot of good ones in the works (including ones featuring appearances by Disney characters such as Dr. Drakken and Shego, and the gang from "Hercules"), and we have yet to learn the plans of Royal Pain and Barron Battle. Warrenfire e-mailed me the rough drafts for a few of his stories from him, and I'd really like to put those out for you all to read, and there is a great cliff hanger "season finale" coming up as well. While I personally would love to continue doing this, my time is still rather limited, and there are three other projects I need to work on. These include the sequel to "We're Not In Kansas Anymore" (Sky High/Smallville) which takes place a year after the first story with Clark, Layla, Warren and the others in their sophomore year. Due to continued demand, I also want to continue the Sky High/Sharkboy and Lavagirl crossover I did as a couple of little one-shots over a year ago, turn it into a full blown story, and also add the characters from "Zoom: Academy for Super Heroes" (yeah, the movie was a bad Sky High rip-off but the characters have a lot of potential). Finally, I am laying the groundwork to writing a novel. Actually I have ideas for several of them, but I need to settle down on one idea and take it from there.

So there you have it. Please let me know if my continuing to work on the "series" is something you all want to continue to read, or if I should just wrap it up as a "miniseries" and go on to the other projects. I look forward to getting your feedback.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: The Frostbound Queen by Amy Pennza

3.75/5. 8/13/24.

Vibes: MMF, elves!!!, guardian/ward, enemies to lovers

Heat Index: 9/10

The Basics:

Elven princess Liria is meant to inherit her father's throne—but when he dies, she's confronted with the realities of her own power, leaving a vacuum open for his friend (and her guardina) Ronan to step in. Fleeing to the human lands, Liria meets the charismatic Prince Sigurn. Torn between her long-simmering feelings for Ronan—unsure of whether she should even trust him—and her new connection with Sigurn, Liria is even more thrown when it turns out the men know each other... and the threats to her throne may be more complex than she realized.

The Review:

It's always lovely to pick up a book thinking it's a love triangle, when in fact... It's MMF! Yes yes, Sigurn and Ronan know each other INDEED, and swords do cross (quite a bit) and everyone is in love with everyone at the end, so... have no fear triangle-haters. This is the whole thing.

I don't hate triangles, so while I was happy that this turned out to be a triad romance (which I love quite a bit) I was honestly more worried about the elf thing. Elves can be really hit or miss for me—but these were ROYAL elves, and therefore I was willing to play ball.

There was really no need to fear. The elf stuff was well done, and not overly... elven. You get some politicking, some fighting for the throne, and some cool ice powers. But it's not Lord of the Rings; I mean, it's VERY far from that, all things considered. So if you're a little worried about how elfy this is going to get, I'd say that you're going to be pleased here.

I'd never read Amy Pennza before, and she has a quick, snappy, engaging writing style that pulled me in from the beginning. Her writing flows, her dialogue is fun, and I'd say that this reads pretty smoothly overall. I can't say that this is a total "one-handed read", because honestly? You get a good chunk of plot here. Like, yeah, the plot ultimately kind of leads to us getting these three into bed together, but like... There's betrayal. There are blood vows. I actually really liked some of the worldbuilding aspects. Basically: if you want your triad books to have actual substance, you'll get that here (if not quite as much as you would with, say, a Sierra Simone book).

Where I do have my quibbles are really in the character dynamics. I love poly romances. I love MMF. It is very difficult to write it without the heat being prioritized over the relationship development, which leads to one or two dynamics being emphasized over the other.

Here's where I think we had some stumbling blocks, to be honest. I was immediately drawn to Liria and Ronan's bond—if you aren't into guardian/ward stuff, then look away, because he has known her since she was a kid, and he is her dad's best friend. The book is very upfront about all of that. The thing is that this gives us a lot of layers to work with. They're conflicted, they're drawn to each other. You can feel the years of tension. To top it off? Liria is now suspicious of Ronan attempting to dethrone her, and he had does have genuine internal conflict about it.

Like, I can't say that Liria has as much depth as Ronan—he's easily the most compelling character of the three. But there's more for her to bounce off of when she's with him. There's a real trajectory the two of them must reach, a dynamic that has to overcome hurdles surrounding trust, duty, and entitlement.

Sigurn... is hot. He's Big. He's a bit rakish, but in a jolly kind of way. He tops. And yes, he has his family drama, and we know that he and Ronan have battled wills in the past. But by the time we see them together, they do have... tension, but a kind of equilibrium and acceptance of an imperfect relationship. Yes, there are a couple more steps to go, and they take them. Their dynamic is intriguing—but you don't get as much emotionally between them as you do between Liria and Ronan, and Liria and Sigurn one-on-one are honestly basically instalove and kind of boring in comparison to the other two dynamics. Ronan and Liria? Lots of conflict. Sigurn and Ronan? Lots of tension. Sigurn and Liria? Kind of just... fine. The sex is hot. There you go.

And for me, this really becomes more apparent as the story goes on. Sirgun just isn't as interesting as Ronan, and his dynamic with Liria isn't as interesting as her dynamic with Ronan, and his dynamic with Ronan is interesting, but a lot of the source of conflict has already HAPPENED.

It's not BAD, but it did kind of stick with me towards the end of the book. I got why Liria and Ronan were tangled up with each other. I sort of got why Ronan and Sigurn were all twisted up, though to be real, I felt like Ronan seemed way more preoccupied with Liria. Sirgun was just... not as important. This being an MMF book, I did have to take issue with that.

However, the story remains really fun. I was always engaged, and I breezed through the audiobook (which has good narrators all around). For a lot of people all my critiques here are not going to matter, because if you want a good time, you'll get a good time. And to be clear: I absolutely plan on reading more Amy Pennza.

The Sex:

I mean. It's really good. Each pairing in the triad gets an individual scene (I gotta say, Liria took quite a... pummeling... for an inexperienced woman in that short amount of time, but I'll chalk it up to elf stuff) plus several trio scenes. I do feel that Sigurn's status as "least interesting person here" continues into the bedroom, as he's very typical "let me tell you what to do", but hey. I'll openly admit that Ronan is probably the worst person at that bar, and boy does that make me like him more.

Overall, this is a really fun, hot romance that's perfect for those who want something high heat, fantastical, and a bit on the lighter side without being too lightweight. Don't let the elves scare you off!

Thanks to NetGalley and Dreamscape Media for providing me with a copy of this audiobook. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[sellensand]

The Eclipse and the Battle of Aeonia

So, the Battle of Aeonia. The moment when Malenia and Radahn "locked horns in combat" (in Ranni's words). We know their dispute ended in the devastation of Caelid, but... why did Malenia fight Radahn? And what was she doing in Caelid in the first place? I'd like to share my own answers to those questions.

ELDEN RING SPOILERS BELOW

The way I see it, in the early years of the Shattering war, the demigod Miquella was in the process of either resurrecting his brother Godwyn's soul or granting him a "true death" via a dark ritual involving an Eclipse (a solar eclipse, judging by the Castle Sol sigil and the Eclipse Shotel). But there was a small problem.

His half-brother, General Radahn, was a master of gravity sorcery, a knowledge he had gained while studying in the town of Sellia, in Caelid, in his youth. Allegedly wanting to prevent a meteorite from destroying his beloved alma mater (as per one of the Sword Monuments is Caelid), he managed to combine his knowledge of gravity with his demigod might to indefinitely halt the natural course of the celestial bodies, a feat that earned him the title of "Conqueror of the Stars". And while this exploit had succesfully managed to prevent the destruction of Sellia, Radahn's actions had... other consequences. When the stars stopped moving, the destiny of the Carian Royal family also came to a standstill (whether this was intentional or just a collateral effect is a matter for another post). And, most importantly, with the celestial bodies stopped in place... the Eclipse could never happen.

(I can't help but think about that ghost in Castle Sol that laments that the Eclipse never occured because their "prayers were lacking", tragically oblivious to the truth of the matter.)

Wanting to restart the ritual, Miquella sent Malenia and her knights to Caelid to kill Radahn... but that didn't go according to plan. While his Blade was away, Mohg entered the Haligtree and abducted Miquella in his coccoon. Meanwhile, Malenia struggled to defeat the powerful Radahn, and when he finally managed to mortally wound her, Malenia's rot flower blossomed in Caelid. Radahn was then turned into a witless rot-monster, the whole region was consumed by the scarlet rot, and the brave knight Finlay had to carry Malenia all the way back to the Haligtree, where she slowly recovered from her wounds in a slumber, eternally awaiting her brother's return.

That folks is my understanding of the events surrounding the Battle of Aeonia.

A couple of FAQs to wrap things up:

- If Radahn was preventing the Eclipse from happening with his powers, why doesn't it take place after we kill him in the game? I think we can safely assume that, in Elden Ring's world, a solar eclipse is a particularly rare event (we do not know how the Two Moons Situation works in this planet), and maybe not entirely natural, since it needs to be summoned somehow. Radahn's death makes the eclipse possible again, but whatever Miquella and his followers were doing to bring it forth is no longer being done, so...

- How come there is a night and day cycle in the game before we kill Radahn? Because, even though the moons may not be in motion, the planet is still rotating on its own axis. If the part of the world you're in stops receiving solar light, it gets dark and you can see the moon(s), simple as that.

Does any of this make any sense? I hope so.

As always, please let me know if this has already been theorised by someone else before. I mainly use this blog to vent about my own theories and, while I do follow a few Elden Ring blogs, I don't really keep up-to-date with the latest lore trends.

[skinmanwithaskinplan]

I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but you’re bored, and I’m bored, so I’m going to infodump about the D&D campaign I’m running! (I also have to say/write it out to process it, so this is helping me too!)

We are still pretty early on, so not much has happened yet, but I have plans! Just a couple, but hopefully enough for a while! Hopefully the party will head to the capital, I could set up a few quests there, and eventually they’ll keep hearing about how the king is sick, now his brother is king regent (acting king), except I have to figure out how to make it kinda suspicious, but maybe not right away? Because the brother has poisoned the king, and just took the mantle, because he always wanted to be king, and this is how he’s doing it! The king isn’t dead yet, but the physician knows he was poisoned, and the cure is nearly impossible, all sorts of rare ingredients, I could send the players on a secret fetch quest to get the last couple ingredients!

The king regent will probably find out, and try to stop them, and maybe fight them directly, once they return! He’s been secretly studying magic and is a pretty powerful wizard, and he has a bunch of loyal lackeys who can fight them too!

Big battle with the BBEG, save the kingdom, yay! If we want to keep playing after that, I can set up some mysteries or something in other parts of the world, they can explore, settle down, whatever they want to do! I’m very excited now, with this! Thanks for letting me ramble a bit, and feel better soon!

Thank you!

That sounds really fun! I’ve never actually played dnd, but I’d like to someday. It seems like the kind of thing I’d like based on the videos I’ve watched.

Drama (murder) in the royal family is such a classic plot, it never gets old to me.

I’m happy this helped you out and I wish you luck on your campaign!

[stagefullofentertainment]

Wishlist for Hazbin Hotel Season 1 (And Later)

With half year left till the series officially start (hopefully!), I would love to share my thoughts and opinions about what could happen in the story regarding characters and plot. They are all just my guesses and some wishes, headcanons if you will. Without further ado, let’s go!

CHARLIE

We have to start with the main character, don’t we?

Charlie being smarter than we all expect. Please, give a moment or situation where she outsmarts Alastor! Maybe another deal or bet?

Seeing more of her demon powers!

Charlie’s attempts to spread the news about the hotel and getting a couple of sinners who are willing to try it out, making them third plan characters.

Charlie and Vaggie being a sun and moon couple.

Flashbacks to Charlie’s teenage/early years living with her parents.

Charlie in the office doing manager/boss/director of this place paperwork. Unless she knows what she’s doing from similar previous experience or she’s been taught management and business, I expect to see her struggling with it. Some angsty moments when legal issues happen (at least, Hell’s equal of legal). I would love to see her parents give her advice or send her a professional to help with this. Speaking of which…

Screentime for Lucifer and Lilith! Perhaps a phone call or something small at first where they would actually interact with Charlie for starters. Oh! How about this? Somewhere near the end, like few episodes left till the season’s finale, we could see a shot where all Hell’s royalty attends an annual gala or some formal and regal event (perfect opportunity to make Paimon, Stolas, Asmodeus or another HB cameo). I’m imagining that someone from those royals could, in a mocking way, mention to Lucifer and Lilith that they probably are so proud of their daughter’s endeavors. (Charlie would not attend that event for it being too preposterous to her). Then we cut to Lucifer saying to Lilith “How about I pay our daughter a visit?”. After that, Lucifer would appear in the season finale, being one of the last shots. For instance, Charlie hears a knock on the hotel door and opens it, seeing her father, who smiles and says “Hello, Charlie” or something cooler that I cannot think in the moment. Then we cut to black and end the first season. That would not only be a great homage to Alastor’s arrival in the pilot but could stir some mystery. Will Lucifer accept Charlie’s intentions? Will he wish to close and demolish the hotel for making him seen pathetic in other demons’ eyes, hence the sin of pride? Did Lilith tell Charlie about Lucifer’s arrival beforehand? That would be answered in the start of season 2.

VAGGIE

Let us add the badass love interest who shines her own light.

Vaggie being in charge of the hotel more so than Charlie.

Seeing her fight and use her weapon capabilities.

Her being a protective gf while Charlie is oblivious, for example, moving a wire so that Charlie wouldn’t trip.

Vaggie constantly bickering with Angel and Alastor. As the season goes on, she finds it to be more fun than annoying.

Flashbacks to her live before death. What was her life, what did she do to be in Hell and how did she die?

Story of how she and Charlie met and fell in love with. Plus, what was she doing before the hotel?

ALASTOR

 My favourite overlord, what I have in store for you.

I want to see him making that Jambalaya!

Alastor being a corny/dad joke kind of guy throughout the whole season.

Seeing snippets of Alastor’s radio show.

Alastor’s development in compassion to Hazbin and it’s residents. Bit by bit, he would start to care about Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk and Niffty (others not so much), catching himself in the middle of the season like “Goodness my! Why do I care if she’s sad?”. Then Alastor would heighten his guard up and become cold hearted, similar to pilot. Perhaps he would make some sort of terrible decision regarding hotel or Charlie which he would regret by the end of the season.

Him and Vox making fun of each other, having little battles here and there, their score being equal.

Seeing more musical numbers from him!

Seeing Alastor struggle with modern media references. Could be a gag about someone mentioning something like “Instagram, Iron Man, Twilight” and so on while Alastor pretends that he understands it/doesn’t care. Imagine explaining Twilight to him…

Flashbacks to his live before death. Why did he become a murderer, what was his family like (importance of mother), how he found his passion for radio?

ANGEL

Well, here we have a comedic yet tragic character to discuss.

His whole season arc could be about chilling in Hazbin while still being under Valentino’s control. With each episode, he would have a harder and harder time between choosing Hazbin (new friends, possible redemption and zero need to be over sexual) and Valentino (job and setting that he’s familiar with, some sort of fame, no need to change himself). By the end of the season, Angel would be at a crossroad of which path to embrace now.

Flashbacks to Angel’s live before death. Was he that involved with sex, did he have a partner, what was his family like?

I would love to see Angel teasing Alastor about all kinds of dirty stuff and surviving. The whole season he would remark on various sexual topics while Alastor can’t kill him because he promised that to Charlie. Seeing Alastor freeze or blush would be a highlight not only to him but to us.

Angel being a fashion icon. “Girl, those earrings with that top? No no no, we need to change those”.

Angel being besties with Cherri.

Seeing Angel’s alone moments when his “funny, dirty, charming” façade drops and he struggles with his life decisions.

Although he died only about 10 years later than Al, he would know all the up-to-date pop culture/media references, usually being the one to make them.

MISCELLANEOUS

Category where I decided to put characters that I don’t have much to say…yet!

Would love to see the reason why Husk and Niffty are in debt to Alastor. (Plus, how many poor souls like those two are there?)

Husk being a grumpy father figure to all. (I think he is supposed to be older than all of them, besides Charlie, in years?)

Niffty being a happy go lucky clean freak.

All of Cherri’s backstory, how did she befriend Angel.

Sir Pentious’s development from cartoony villain to an ally of Hazbin.  

Seeing more of Hell’s TV, Internet and apps.

Seeing Hell’s live from different kinds of livers there (sinners, overlords, royalty).

Learning more about Heaven, the percentage of goodness to be accepted there, how do angels work.

Seeing Vox, Valentino and Velvet in action and their powers.

Overall, exploring new locations.

That’s all, folks! A share of my hopes for the series. If you would like, I could make more parts in the future. Of course, I would love to hear your thoughts! Have a fantastic day, my friend!

[grandmaster-anne]

Sir Tim Laurence, head of English Heritage, on the challenges of conservation in the 21st century

By Henry Mance | Published 27 May 2022

English Heritage’s chair is Sir Tim Laurence, a former naval officer who happens to be married to Princess Anne. Laurence is a non-fusty, patrician figure. “Most people call me Tim. Even the gardeners call me Tim,” he tells me, over coffee at the Marble Hill café. In royal terms, he has a low enough profile that he even travels by Tube. (Don’t expect to see his wife: “I don’t think she’s been on an Underground for a long time, if at all. She has security issues which I don’t. I’m expendable.”)

While some English people feel threatened by the new historical narratives, particularly around slavery and empire, Laurence — sitting near the top of the Establishment — is not.

“History is what happened,” he says, upper lip duly stiffened. “Telling the story of Marble Hill without making the link to the slave trade and to mahogany would be wrong, in my view. We’re telling it like it is [ . . .] The transatlantic slave trade was one of the most appalling things in British history,” he adds.

“But there’s another important side of it, which is: it shouldn’t dominate. This place is all about how you build a beautiful house, what was going on at the time, the design of that wonderful garden, and making all of that available to the local community.”

The National Trust has been lambasted by some rightwing commentators for its approach; a recent article tried to depict English Heritage as a non-woke competitor. Laurence closes ranks: “We’re very close to the National Trust. I’ve been a National Trust member practically since I left school.” Like many British people, he tempers his revulsion at the slave trade by pointing to Britain’s role in ending it. “I’m extremely proud that my background is in the Royal Navy, and the Royal Navy battled for 60 years to try and stop it.” Some of the backlash to historical research “has become too extreme”.

English Heritage’s underlying challenge is financial. Since 2015, it has been an independent charity; it no longer receives a block government grant. Only about 20 of its sites — led by Stonehenge and also including Tintagel Castle in Cornwall — make a profit. The other 400 or so are either free to access or tickets don’t cover their cost. So it relies on its 1.2mn members, its cafés and gift shops, and grants from the lottery and others.

Covid has been “a really tough time”. Visitor numbers are expected to be near 5mn this year, down from 6.2mn pre-pandemic. “We need people to come back,” says Laurence. Foreign tourists in particular. “We do make quite a lot out of inbound tourism, so that’s a worry.” The charity has missed its target of breaking even in 2022, and is now aiming for 2025.

Despite financial constraints, he wants English Heritage to expand. “We’re not very strong on the industrial revolution, and we’ve got a couple of cold war bunkers. I would hope my successor would look to acquire more sites, probably more contemporary sites.”

For the moment, many English Heritage properties are either in ruins or threatening to become so soon. Last year part of Hurst Castle(opens a new window), an English Heritage property built in the 1540s on a shingle spit in Hampshire, collapsed into the sea after years of erosion.

“We haven’t absolutely got a long-term plan,” says Laurence. “Part of the problem is because the shingle from the spit comes from the shoreline along Christchurch Bay, and gradually over the decades Christchurch Bay has been concreted in with more and more habitation, so the shingle supply is not coming in at the same rate. So we’re fighting against the tide there. But we will go on trying to protect it as long as we can.”

Critics say that English Heritage is itself eroding its greatest asset, Stonehenge, by backing a motorway tunnel. Unesco has threatened that the site will lose its world heritage status if the project goes ahead. “I very much hope when Unesco look at it, when it’s finished, they say, ‘Actually, from a heritage point of view, this is a vast improvement on what was there before,’” says Laurence. But losing the status would probably be only symbolic: “Would it really make a difference to the people wanting to go there?”

In general, Laurence argues that the focus on heritage should not impede developments: “People are very anxious about change,” but “you’ve got to modernise.” He thinks people are “a bit over-precious” about the transformation of Liverpool’s docks for Everton’s new football stadium. (The docks have lost their Unesco heritage status.)

At Marble Hill, there were objections — ranging from “those who felt we shouldn’t be talking about Henrietta at all, because she was a harlot” to those who wanted a smaller café and assurance that there would not be regular concerts.

Such resistance is part of England’s history. When the land for Marble Hill was acquired piecemeal in the 1720s, some locals initially refused to sell “because they were frightened of this incomer”. The lesson of our heritage is that conservation works, but it’s also that someone had to work to create these sites in the first place.