#ended up with her being an enemy in the palace

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 12 - Mortals and fools

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series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

twelfth: Thranduil gave you his heart, knowing one day you will break it. It's past time you trust him too. [1.6K]

notes: hehe playing with canon.

glossary: Idril: Treasure, sweetheart┆

Heavy steps echoed down the hall, making the emptiness of the gallery more obvious. Good, you needed to be alone. Wandering again among ancient tapestries and paintings, for once your eyes ignored the beauty and technique behind each thread. Not their tales of adventure and grief: you admired that all of them survived this far.

When things last for a long time, it can be safe to assume they are resistant. That they are responsible for their survival. That is not true with art. No painting or song, tapestry or dance, ever lasted because of their own innate strength. What force could a melody about Gil-Galad ever have to defend itself? Is there a fabric that would not burn to ashes near a flame?

Lifetimes ago someone touched the very same painting you admire now. Lifetimes after you, someone will be brave enough to touch it again instead of just watching. When art survives, it is out of the stubbornness of those who hold it dear enough to shield it from time.

And for now, those ancient pieces are stubbornly protected by the ancient beings living within the Elvenking’s Halls. A place that often makes you wonder about time, and how the smallest of things can make you travel in it. A palace that keeps the rot of mankind far away, and the brightness of immortality always near.

Absentmindedly, your fingers lingered over the gems weighing down your collarbone.

Do you reek of mortality? A youth doomed to end; a thing made to age and perish. Your life was very short. What you can recall of it, that is. A blink in their experienced eyes. There is so much you never saw and never will.

How can you be certain that someone is righteous when you never saw evil? What is peace to you, someone that never saw war? A messenger from Lothlórien told you the world became darker since he last travelled far from his land. As for you, the world looks bright enough to blind you as it is now.

One day you shall be gone and the ellons shall continue to shine as the land rots and darkens until they sail away one last time. You never thought much about death before. Why waste your time worrying about what you cannot stop? It was unreasonable until an ancient being confessed his love to you. Now, it is all you can think about.

That night, lulled by his soft caresses, death embedded your tired mind. The next morning, you woke up to a slightly comforting conclusion: Thranduil is stubborn. When he makes a decision there is no turning back. He calls it endurance; you argued it was a matter of semantics.

Thranduil is stubborn, and that is why his domains endures. Why all the art in this gallery survived longer than royal bloodlines and rock castles. Why his enemies are buried and his friends stand still.

You trust Thranduil to protect what will remain of you once you are gone. His stubbornness will preserve his memories and you, a small thing in this very large world, will survive along with him.

So why now you feel so lonely? If your future with him is so certain, why the present feels so unsure? There is something you cannot share with Thranduil. That you do not know how to express. A feeling that something does not fit anymore. Much more than a feeling, what you have is a doubt. And the amount of damage a single, genuine doubt can provoke is still unknow to you.

You were in Mordor too.

Those were the words that awakened Thranduil. Words that you could not possibly know to be true at the time. Thranduil never told you that. Maybe you could have assumed his burns had something to do with the fires of that wretched place, but at the moment you simply did not knew he was burned to begin with.

And those are the same words that keep you from sleeping at night. Words that imply that you had been there too. Words that escaped from your mouth after you felt watched and burned by His ever-hungry eye. Words that maybe could mean nothing at all, but that awakened Thranduil nonetheless.

You wanted to share this with him, but how could you? It does not make sense. You cannot even put it into words. A fool. That is what you are.

“Idril?”

A squeal escaped your throat. You jumped in place, back colliding with Thranduil’s chest. Tilting your head, eyes wide open, you stared at him. He was so close, and still you did not hear him until he spoke. It was almost as if Thranduil crawled out of your mind.

Thranduil smiled, and his eyes had a different glow in them. “Lost in thought?”

You sighed, a dry laugh finding a way out of you. “You sneaky viper!”

“What are you talking about, idril? I am worried about you”, Thranduil pretended to be offended, but he was laughing too. Holding you by your shoulders, his long fingers caressed your skin. “It became one of my favorites too, but there is no reason to hold your breath.”

A heartbeat later, you understood. Thranduil assumed you got distracted admiring the painting in front of you. Following his gaze, you took a deep breath. You intertwined your fingers with his, and in silence you both took in the painting.

Moonshine marked the silhouette of a man. His head was turned to face the top of a hill, where an elven danced on top of flowers and leaves. Her long hair moved like water around her body, almost as if it was dancing on its own too. Her smile, wide and pure.

“The leaves were long, the grass was green”, Thranduil hummed. “The hemlock-umbels tall and fair. And in the glade a light was seen, of stars in shadow shimmering.”

It was a song. And one you heard before. Enlightened, the painting gained a new meaning to you. Raising your eyes, you observed Thranduil. His own were closed, face relaxed. Feeling his chest move up and down, you hesitated. Thranduil looked so young now.

“Is this Lúthien and Beren?”

A smile grew on his face. Such a small thing, but genuine. It made your heart ache. “Have you heard of them before?”

A frog in a well knows nothing of the sea. You are a fool wondering about ancient art as if you are smart enough to understand what stood right in front of you. For how long you stayed there, staring a Lúthien, without realizing she was the elven from the stories? How can you think so much about the past and not learn from it?

This is not the first time an elven and a mortal fell in love. You are not the first to wonder about death when you were supposed to rejoice how lucky you were to find someone to love. You are not the first fool in the world.

“A love story”, you said. A bittersweet taste invaded your mouth. “The best of them.”

Thranduil gave you his heart, knowing that when you eventually break it will never heal again. He trusts you to take care of it until then, and accepted that after your life comes to an end, he will be alone. Thranduil deems it worth it. He made peace with the nature of your love.

 “Yes”, Thranduil opened his eyes. “For now.”

It is your turn to do the same. To trust your heart to Thranduil. To accept tomorrow.

“Thranduil,” you whispered. Taking a step forward, his touch freed you. It took you a moment to prepare yourself. Facing him, you hid your hands behind your back. You intertwined your finger to keep them from shaking. “Do you want me to be your secret?”

Thranduil blinked. “I am not sure of what you mean, idril.”

It took so much of you to keep looking into his blue eyes. “You are a king, and I am… Lossëistar. I will never stop being someone that did not deserved a name. Lady Aerin thought you pitied me. She even… I know others will think the same. What I want to know since that night is if I will be your secret. If I embarrass you.”

At that, you looked away. Part of you feared he would agree, part of you hoped he would deny. None were brave enough to watch him chose between the option you presented him.

Thranduil took a step closer. His hands cupped your cheeks, and for once his touch did not feel gentle. It was demanding. Were you expected warmth, you found certainty. He made you look at him, and the coldness in his eyes made shiver run down your spine.

“Pity you?” Thranduil growled. Was he… angry at you? You never saw him like that before. Brows furrowed, words sharp, hands rough. Have you crossed a line? Maybe you offended him. “You shall be my queen.”

You gasped. “But… Thranduil, I…”

He gave no time for your surprised words. Staring into your eyes, you felt as if he could see your bare soul. Lurking over you, Thranduil showed you he was deserving of your trust. “Do you know what the gems in your necklace are? Do you know what they are called?”

“White gems?” You looked down, trying to run away from his gaze. Their glow almost blinded you. It was different from any other jewel you ever saw. Somehow, deep inside you knew only elves and dwarves together could craft something as enchanting.

Thranduil made you look up again. As you heard his words, the right answer, all doubts were expelled from your head. Covering your mouth with trembling hands, you were once more a fool. Or maybe, this time, Thranduil was simply insane.

“They are called Silmarils.”

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @h0ly-fire @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy @scrumpdidlyuptious @mirandastuckinthe80s @linaaajacksos

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[silviakundera]

More of Story of Kunning Palace novel. This has spoilers for the princess' fate in the 1st life, which hasn't been revealed yet on the show. It also discusses her sexuality.

She is clear about the future fate of the Eldest Princess Leyang.

After the Yongyihou Mansion, which was originally in charge of the military power, was implicated in the old case of King Pingnan and exiled, within two months the northern Tatars were ready to move, claiming that the new king would succeed to the throne, and wanted to ask Dagan to marry the princess as his concubine. But the emperor did not want to use Yongyihou Mansion again and sent Princess Leyang to marry.

Four years later, the Tatars had finished recharging their energy, and they completely invaded with troops.

The civil and military forces of the Manchu Dynasty only welcomed back the coffin of the princess.

At that time, the emperor had changed to Shen Jie. In his grief, he overturned Shen Lang's conviction, rehabilitated the Yongyihou's mansion, and enabled Yan Lin, who had been exiled for four years. Yan Lin finally got his chance. He led his troops to quell the border chaos, expelled the Tatars, and killed the barbarians until they dared not cross the Dagan territory.

After that, it was Jiang Xuening's "disaster".

She remembered that when they first met in the previous life, she was dressed as a man, but she saw that Shen Zhiyi cared too much about the scar on her face, so she took the fine pen that others used to trace lanterns at the lantern festival, dipped in a little cherry powder, and put it on. She had drawn on that scar under her left eye.

At that time, Shen Zhiyi mistook her for a man and had feelings for her.

Later, the princess found out that she was a woman, so naturally couldn't bear it.

But before going to Tatar to get married, the princess specially invited Jiang Xuening to paint on her the same makeup as when they first met, and then sat quietly in front of the makeup mirror, looking at the delicate face in the mirror, but two lines of tears flowing across her cheeks.

After Shen Zhiyi left, Jiang Xuening asked herself many times: If there was another chance, would you still draw that stroke for her when you first met?

There was no answer.

She thought she wouldn't.

But now, when Shen Zhiyi stood in front of her alive again, and she really had such an opportunity, Jiang Xuening realized that her answer was: I will.

[ guys..... 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭]

.....

It's just that when she concentrated her eyes and looked back, she saw Shen Zhiyi's eyes staring at her at this moment, and suddenly her scalp went numb!

This look...

How can it be the same as the previous life? !

She subconsciously looked down at what she was wearing: it was indeed a woman's dress.

But why this look..?

In the blink of an eye, an unprecedented idea suddenly appeared in Jiang Xuening's mind, which made her tremble all over, and couldn't help but arouse a series of goosebumps—

Who said that in the previous life, Princess Leyang must have fallen in love with her because she disguised herself as a man?

It is not necessarily impossible for the same situation to have another explanation—

That is, seeing her dressed as a man, but with a feminine look, so she is drawn to her but the eldest princess herself may not know it!

If it is like this…

Jiang Xuening's finger, which was still clinging to the paintbrush before it could be put down, suddenly became stiff.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: infidelity (reader is Aemond's wife), incest, spoilers of s2ep5. Just something short and self indulgent, hope you like it!

masterlist

taglist: @barnes70stark

When you arrived at Aegon's chambers, he was alone. Your mother wasn’t by his side, nor was his wife Helaena, much less Aemond, who you were sure had been the cause of all that. Everyone was crazy, the war for power was making everyone's head sick in the Red Keep and it had ended up bringing you to that point.

When you learned that your brother had gone into battle when he wasn’t required, you knew that the consequences were going to be disastrous and you even hoped that upon returning to King's Landing the star news was the death of the king. But thank the gods he was still alive, fighting, but alive.

You hadn't dared to look at him until that moment, mentally unable to think that his body had been stained at the hands of dragon fire. Targaryens don't burn, do they? Could it be your ancestors punishing Aegon’s recklessness?

And you were sure they would punish the sin of parading a dragon's head around town. They were sacred, they were your emblem and your heritage... you thought that your mother would have this more in mind and that she wouldn’t approve of that kind of massacre. You couldn't imagine your beloved Kaeryss going into battle, dead at the hands of the enemy or perhaps even your own brother.

But now it was a dragon war, not even men could stop it.

“For the seven…” you sobbed softly, you barely got close to your brother and the whole smell of burnt flesh and rot filled your nostrils.

The maester had managed to do a few things to him, he was completely bandaged and was breathing heavily, a hiss leaving his lips with every exhale he took. It was a horrible sight to see for anyone, much less the only person who had genuinely loved Aegon.

The sight made you stagger back and you had to hold on to the bedposts to keep from falling. The worst thing of all was to think that it was the king who had brought this on himself, no matter how much they wanted to convince all his subjects that he had fought bravely and had struck down Meleys.

If you had known before what he intended to do, you would have implored him to stop, you would have persuaded him with kisses and cuddles to stay in the palace. Damn, you would have gotten him drunk and fucked for hours if it kept him safe. Or ultimately, you would have told him how stupid he was for trying to go to war solely on a whim, with a dragon with no experience in battle being ridden by a man with less experience.

But past mistakes couldn't be corrected just by thinking about all the possibilities, instead you had to face the consequences.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to put aside the tremendous disgust that the burning flesh produced in you. If you dared to say that out loud, you knew that Aegon would feel tremendously hurt, since he had never boasted of having the best self-esteem, so you had to be cautious with your words and gestures when he came to his senses.

You took a seat next to the bed, in a modest chair that had surely been occupied by someone else hours before, and you tried to hold back the tears that were already gathering in your eyes. While you saw the king lying in bed, at risk of dying at any moment, you wondered how far this conflict would go.

Aegon had always expressed that he didn’t want to be king and now that he was, he turned out to be a useless one. You weren’t going to soften truths in your mind, because you, as everyone knew, that the king's claim had been a treacherous one. You had been happy that your sister could aspire to be a queen, even if you hated her and her unbearable descent. But hating her didn't mean you wanted to see so many people die, much less the innocent and weak ones as always happened.

Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if your parents had married you to Aegon instead of your brother Aemond. You couldn't blame Helaena for hating her husband, just as you hated yours, perhaps for different reasons but with the same impetus. You probably would have preferred to marry him because of the treatment he had always offered you, being kind, loving and careful. And you knew that it was wrong to love him secretly from your husband and that it was a very serious offense for a lady, but you didn't care and you assumed that if Aemond knew, he didn't care either. He never loved you, you didn't know the reasons but you were sure of it.

One of your hands traveled to the man lying on the bed to take it, carefully, and you gently caressed the healthy skin that still remained.

“Mummy?” you heard, like an almost imperceptible moan. Aegon could barely open his right eye weakly.

“No, no, honey. It’s me,” you whispered sweetly, leaning slightly so he could hear you over the smell of rot. You said your name out loud just in case he didn't recognize your voice.

He wanted to say something, but at first the tremendous pain in his chest prevented him from doing so. The maester said that he must have had many internal injuries and that only time and the grace of the gods could decide if those injuries were serious enough to kill him. You hoped not.

“My princess,” he managed to gesture.

You were always called that way, simply because Aegon considered that you did him full honor to the title and because you seemed to him his and no one else's.

“Don't try too hard,” you whispered motherly, reaching out to rub the right side of his face with unexpected love. You had to stay calm to ignore the burns. “You need to rest.”

Aegon, from his vulnerable position, looked at you sadly and you saw a tear escape his eye. It was as if with that look he was expressing to you everything he couldn't tell you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you asked worried. It was an obvious answer, you thought, but you at least wanted him to realize that the situation mattered to you.

When he nodded weakly, you felt tremendously sorry for him. Seeing him like this completely broke your heart and if you could have done it, you would have wished you could take away all that pain in a second.

“My poor boy…” you murmured softly, still caressing his cheek gently. The man felt as if your touch was magical, healing in every way: the simple fact of having you close comforted him.

“Stay?"

“Of course I do, Aegon,” you said in a whisper.

“I'm… I'm horrendous”

“You're not,” you responded to his sob. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were despising him, like everyone else was going to do. You had managed to gain his trust before, however, with this physical change you knew that his fears would only increase “I love you always, honey. I promise"

And as a sign of this, you leaned close enough to place a kiss on his lips. You were very careful not to touch his wounded skin and tried to be as kind as possible with him. You wanted to show him that you weren't afraid of him, nor disgusted by him, as he was probably thinking.

There was no purer love like the one you were showing him and Aegon felt unworthy of it.

"Please… don’t leave”

“I won't,” you assured him, sitting back down and leaning against the mattress. “Don't be afraid, I'm here and I'll stay to take care of you all night, okay?”

Aegon cried silently and tried to hold on to the feeling of your hand holding his, for it was the only feeling that would keep him sane. He felt that as long as you continued to love him and stayed with him, he could overcome any adversity.

[sapphicjackal]

Baby Dimension au

inspired by this

Baby dimension au

One of the many things that had always bothered Shen Yuan about Proud Immortal Demon Way was the way that Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky treated Luo Binghe’s children. 

By the time that Luo Binghe was into his centuries long reign and the story completed, Luo Binghe had dozens of children. Some were named, and others were only known by the fact that their mother had to go into seclusion in the background of a harem drama. The exact number of his kids were unknown, and Luo Binghe showed little to no interest in them beyond their continued survival.

To ensure his children’s survival, Luo Binghe used Xin Mo to create a pocket dimension of sorts. Only his most trusted servants would be selected with the task of living permanently in these hidden realms to raise his children. Each child had their own separate pocket realm and caretaker, with children born of the same mother being grouped together.

Some of the more filial mothers spent time with their children, and Shen Yuan quietly suspects that a number of the ditched Harem members chose to live with their children instead of in the palace full of snakes. 

The reason the fan dubbed ‘baby dimension’ came into existence was because of Luo Binghe’s first children. 

Luo Binghe’s foray into fatherhood began with his first two children, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang. 

When Luo Binghe lived on Qing Jing Peak, he had made a promise with Ning Yingying that when he married her, they would have a beautiful child together. Once the three realms had been unified, revenge had been taken, and the harem had been settled; Airplane introduced that retconned promise. Ning Yingying asked if they could finally have a baby together and Luo Binghe agreed.

Of course, this sent Sha Hualing into a jealous fit. She acted out and terrorized the other harem members until Luo Binghe agreed to give her a child as well. To prevent Sha Hualing from escalating and trying to do anything to make Ning Yingying miscarry, Luo Binghe agreed to impregnate her as well.

Naturally this led to a threesome sex maraton between Ning Yingying, Sha Hualing, and Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe gathered a fertility lotus plant for the two of them, and they locked themselves away in Luo Binghe’s chambers for 3 days. The two girls spent the whole time fighting each other and vying for Luo Binghe’s attention as well as more turne with the Heavenly Pillar. 

It ended with both of the wives undeniably pregnant.

Fast Forward some harem antics where some wives tried to sabotage the pregnancies, and a lot of kinky pregnancy related sex, the two babies were born. Ning Yingying’s daughter, Luo Meiying, and Sha Hualing’s son, Luo Fang. Luo Binghe was there for the births of his children and he seemed genuinely pleased about it. Sha Hualing and Ning Yingying were obviously the most favored wives for a time, as Luo Binghe exclusively dual cultivated with either of them and spent a lot of time with his children.

Then the readers got bored of this domestic arc.

Luo Binghe’s children were faced by constant threats, targeted by the harem and his enemies alike. The dangers were so numerous that Sha Hualing herself wanted to go into seclusion with her child, just so that her son would survive. Of course, she was more motivated by the fact she didn’t want to lose the leverage that the child gave her after all of the effort she spent bringing it into the world, but still. It was a problem.

The solution?

Creating a series of Hidden Realms using Xin Mo. 

Since the space was only accessible through Xin Mo, nobody could threaten the safety of his children any longer. He allowed his wives to choose their most loyal servant to entrust the task of raising their children. After setting them up with all they would need, and telling the mothers they could ask any time for visits, he left the children to be raised in the Hidden Realms, with the expectation they could leave once they reach adulthood.

After that, his children were promptly forgotten and only mentioned in passing.

Ning Yingying ended up having another child later on, and that one joined his older sister in the Baby Dimension after being weaned. 

From there, pregnancies and children were only mentioned in passing. There were no updates as to what goes on in the Baby Dimensions, and Luo Binghe’s children became yet another forgotten plot line. 

Any children he had were forgotten in favor of an ever expanding harem of women who were wedded, bedded, and forgotten.

The whole thing bothered Shen Yuan immensely, being a common topic that he brought up in his vicious reviews of each chapter. Yes, Luo Binghe was a blackened stallion protagonist, but it didn’t make sense for his character to simply have a bunch of children that he forgot existed in favor of getting his dick wet. Luo Binghe seemed to genuinely love his children during the time before he sent them away, and it was the closest thing to happiness that he displayed since the beginning of the story with his adoptive mother.

None of the other fans cared about it, so Luo Binghe’s unknown number of children were thoroughly forgotten. Even the end of the story didn’t address the children whatsoever! Not even a mention of Luo Binghe having an heir, let alone multiple.

Shen Yuan had never forgotten about it, but it did get tucked away in some far off corner of his mind after he transmigrated. 

Now, he lived as Shen Qingqiu, and he was happily married to his own version of Luo Binghe.

The reason all of his prior frustrations came racing back to him is because his husband asked if they could have children. The two of them had been married for 15 years now, and a lot of the problems from earlier in their relationship had been worked on. Luo Binghe was no longer as intensely jealous because of his abandonment issues to the point that having children would be upsetting to him.

They were in a good place to start discussing things. 

Shen Qingqiu had stepped down as Peak Lord with the rest of the Qing generation in favor of their successors, and instead moved full time to the Demon Realm. He had long since revealed his true identity as a transmigrator to his Husband, so Shen Yuan adopted his old name once he left the Human Realm.

Their rule was secure, they had been married for years, and their relationship was stable. It seemed like the perfect time to add to the family.

There did exist flowers and relics that could allow men to get pregnant, however, once Luo Binghe brought up the topic, Shen Yuan’s mind instantly went to the abandoned children of Luo Bingge.

Shen Yuan knew that his Binghe would be a wonderful father, one that would never abandon his children. Shen Yuan never really got over the fact that all those children had been made and discarded, out of sight and out of mind.

So, he made a deal with Binghe.

They would have one biological child together, but after that, any additional children would be ones that they obtained from Binghe’s counterpart. Binghe initially protested, wanting nothing to do with that imposter, but Shen Yuan laid out the way all of those children had been abandoned and how it had bothered him for years.

It took some arguing and tears, but eventually an agreement was made.

Luo Binghe bore pregnancy with grace and sneakily used his blood parasites to ensure that egg split, resulting in twins. Luo Binghe was ecstatic with pregnancy, having fought to be the one that carries the child. Shen Yuan thought that as the Emperor, Luo Binghe should be the one to get him pregnant, but Luo Binghe said he’d only agree to snatching the imposter’s children if he gets to give birth to Shizun’s babies.

Shen Yuan gave in to prevent having a Qi deviation over the sheer nonsense that Luo Binghe spewed.

Shen Mingyu and Shen Yongrui were fraternal twins, a girl and boy. They both took after Shen Yuan more in looks, but shared Luo Binghe’s curly hair, something that Shen Yuan was extremely pleased with. The two were doted on and spoiled endlessly, beloved by their parents and people, who were happy to have an actual heir at last.

When the children were 4, Luo Binghe started to get restless, asking for more. 

Thus began their newfound hobby of breaking into Baby Dimensions and kidnapping children.

Well, to be more exact.

Thus began a series of excursions where they traveled to various baby dimensions to meet with the children there and get to know them. When they offered the opportunity to leave and come with them to their own world, each and every child jumped at the chance to leave, even knowing ahead of time that Luo Binghe wasn’t the father that sired them.

They didn’t do it too often. Not wanting to do the same thing as the original and forget about their children and spending time with them because they valued quantity. They made sure that each and every one of their children were loved, regardless of if they were created by them specifically.

Each new addition to their family brought joy to their lives. Shen Yuan truly couldn’t understand how Luo Bingge didn’t adore each of these wonderful beings that he helped create. Shen Yuan loved all of his children, and they were each a blessing.

Maybe Shen Yuan got a little ambitious, because he started to want the two that started it all. Luo Meiying and Luo Fang, the ones that almost could have had a loving father if only the readers hadn’t gotten bored of domesticity. Shen Yuan wanted them to have better. He had avoided taking them thus far because they were the children of the main and favored wives, but they had taken close to a dozen children without notice over the years.

Just like the rest of their siblings, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang agreed to join them. 

However, this time they caught the attention of Luo Bingge. Turns out, Luo Bingge had been noticing his children dwindling, so he set extra protections around all of his remaining children so that he could catch the culprit and save his missing children, if they were still alive.

Luo Bingge came to demand his children back, but his children all claimed that they were Shen Yuan and Luo Bingmei’s children.

Bingge doesn’t actually have THAT many kids at this point in the timeline

SY was grossly overestimating how many kids LBG had in general

atm Bingge only had like 18 kids and Bingqiu stole 10 of them

Bingge does actually check on his kids when he can get away from his harem (which isn’t often)

this is yet another thing that the fake has stolen from him

even his own flesh and blood prefer an imposter over their own father

it really fucks Bingge up

plus side is that he figures out that Nice Shizun is actually named Shen Yuan

then he finds his own SY

And he makes sure that the rest of his kids won’t get stolen by abolishing the baby dimensions and bringing the kids out

SY becomes their teacher

Bingge believes in adopted parent relationships so he doesn’t try to take his kids back, but he does fall into a weird shared custody agreement with Bingqiu

Bingge makes harming his children punishable by death, and his wives are NOT exempt from this. Little Palace Mistress finds this out the hard way when she tries to eliminate one of Bingge’s daughters and gets publicly executed.

Bingge overhauls the harem in general, because now he has got his priorities in order. Which are railing his kid’s teacher, and also taking care of his kids because he doesn’t want them to get taken from him and lose out on them.

Bingge stops expanding his harem and even downsizes it, plus he works out something other than dual cultivation to control Xin Mo because having sex is cutting into his time braiding his children’s hair. And also trying to sleep with their teacher.

Bingge finds being a dad a lot more fulfilling than being a harem master and emperor of the united realms, and also fucking his children’s teacher. That also fills him better.

[whumpster-fire]

Yet another reason T. T. Sutherland is a coward and a fool for going "Peril has never been touched in battle before, the dragonflame cactus was her first time experiencing real pain" and I refuse to accept it as canon:

Cooler Headcanon: the reason Peril immediately had the idea of burning the venom out of Clay's wound when he got bitten by the Dragonbite Viper was because she's had to do that to herself after getting puncture wounds from sandwings that injected venom past the superheated layer of skin. It didn't do as much damage to her as it did to Clay because Peril's pretty much completely fireproof even under the skin, so the scars are pretty small and not that noticeable, but she does have a few.

The couple times she de-venomed herself during a battle were pretty much the most metal thing ever to happen in Scarlet's arena. A dragon getting an apparently mortal wound, jamming her claws right into the open wound, writhing on the sand in apparent death throes, and then after like a minute getting back up with "smoke" rising from her eyes and nose as well as the bloody, sizzling puncture, and proceeding to limp across the arena and utterly destroy her terrified opponent.

The dragons she was fighting didn't try to finish her off because they'd already severely burned their tail barbs and probably talons and wings doing it and weren't going to risk getting hurt even worse by a dying dragon. Then of course when their one hope of killing her turned out not to work they kind of lost the will to live.

This contributed significantly to Peril's reputation as an invincible monster, but on the other hand seeing the queen's champion curled in a fetal position, screaming, sobbing and obviously trying not to pass out, made some of the spectators present for those fights somewhat remember that this was a 2-3 year old dragonet being thrown in the arena with full grown adult enemy soldiers, which was pretty messed up even if the small child kept winning. These feelings of sympathy were often diminished a bit by what Peril did to her opponents afterward, but Queen Scarlet was still not pleased, and after it happened two or three times she got a supply of the antidote cactus for "if a guard accidentally gets gotten by a sandwing prisoner" purposes.

Ruby absolutely never saw this because she made a point of watching fights in the arena as little as possible, especially Peril's for obvious reasons.

On the other hand I just thought of the perfect explanation for why Carnelian was like "I wonder if she remembers me?" when Peril showed up at JMA instead of freaking out like most of the dragons there. At some point, early in her career as a child soldier before she ended up in Ruby's unit, she was working in the palace and got voluntold to help out during an incident when Peril got stabbed in the shoulder or something where she couldn't reach with her claws so somebody had to very carefully burn the venom out with a red hot nail and a pair of tongs. Carnelian's actual job was probably something like holding a bucket of water and pouring it on the spear haft a third dragon was holding Peril's wing closed with, but she met Peril in a vulnerable state when she wasn't trying to perform for the crowd, and also saw her trying really hard to avoid accidentally injuring anyone, which led to her being one of a small number of skywings who are capable of being normal about Peril.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hello! I stumbled across your post about requests opening for certain Rings of Power characters, and I'd love to request one for Gil-galad, if that's okay!

The reader is Elrond's sister, and was taken in by Gil-galad when she was an elfling after Sirion (just like Elros and Elrond). Could you write something that begins in angst and ends in fluff? Like, for example, Gil-galad has been trying to convince himself that he's not falling for the reader (but he is), and one day she goes on a patrol with Elrond and a few other elves. She gets grievously hurt, and is rushed back to the palace by her overprotective brother Elrond. Gil-galad is incredibly concerned, and the love and grief comes rushing to the forefront. He's got to watch her scream in pain as she's being healed by Elrond. When she gets better, the High King professes his love and asks her to court him. A timeskip and a brief mention of them getting married at the end and facing the hardships of Second Age Middle Earth together? Because Eru knows we need some fluff and happy endings!

Thanks a lot, and apologies for the long request!

Hello there! I combined this with another ask I received about our lovely High King! I'm going to make a part 2 that is going to address their happily ever after and maybe some spicey time.... for now, here you go!

zoya-olenka asked:

Ok and the other one, reader and Gil Galad are always clashing during their interactions until the tension is too much and well, we know what follows. I'll leave it to you to set the scenery. I'm sure I'll love anything you come up with!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lovely Thorn

You sit across from Gil-galad at the war council, the map of Middle-earth spread out between you on the heavy oak table. The room is filled with advisors and generals, all eyes turned to the High King as he discusses the latest reports from the patrols. Your heart pounds in your chest, and not because of the looming threat of war.

"I still believe we should patrol further south," you say, folding your arms across your chest. "The enemy could be gaining ground there, and if we don’t act now, we risk losing control of the entire region."

Gil-galad raises an eyebrow, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Moving south would leave Lindon exposed. I will not risk the heart of our people for a gamble on a dark servant that Galadriel herself cannot seem to find."

"It’s not a gamble," you argue, your voice sharper than intended. "It is a calculated risk, and one we must take if we’re to stand a chance protecting the people of this world."

The room goes silent, all eyes flicking between you and the High King. This isn’t the first time you’ve challenged him in public, and it certainly won’t be the last. His calm, unflinching demeanor only serves to irritate you more. How can he be so maddeningly composed? And worse—how can he look so beautiful even when he’s infuriating you?

"Perhaps," Gil-galad says after a long pause, "you would like to lead the army yourself, then? Since you seem to know so much more about warfare than my generals."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it!"

He leans back in his chair, the smirk still there. "I know what you are saying. But the decision is mine to make."

You grit your teeth, feeling the tension thick between you. The air seems heavier when he’s near, and no matter how much he irritates you, you can’t deny that every argument leaves you more flustered than the last.

"Fine," you mutter, finally relenting, though your mind still spins with frustration. "But when the darkness returns to our borders, remember that I warned you."

As you storm out of the room, you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and the sensation only makes your heart race faster.

—---------------------------

You’re standing in the middle of the throne room, arms crossed as you glare at Gil-galad. The council has just adjourned, but the two of you remain, still arguing over the trade agreements with Númenor. He stands with his arms behind his back, the picture of regal calm, while you’re nearly pacing with frustration.

"We need to offer them more, or they’ll break off the alliance," you insist, your tone exasperated. "You’re being too cautious, Ereinion!"

"And you’re being too reckless," he counters smoothly, his voice low but steady. "If we give Númenor too much, they’ll see it as a sign of weakness. We cannot afford to appear desperate."

"I’m not saying we should grovel," you snap, taking a step closer. "I’m saying we should meet them halfway, but you’re so stubborn!"

Gil-galad’s eyes narrow slightly, but that infuriating calm never leaves his face. "You think me stubborn, do you?"

"Yes!" The word bursts out of you before you can stop it. "You never listen to anyone else’s advice, not when it contradicts your own plans. You—" You falter as he takes a step closer, his gaze locked on yours with a sudden intensity that makes your breath catch. You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating from him, the weight of his presence pressing down on you.

"And you think I don’t listen to you?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. His closeness, the way his gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fraction of a second—it all leaves you dizzy. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you turn sharply on your heel and walk out, your face burning, every nerve in your body on fire.

—---------------------------

Of all things to argue about, you hadn’t expected this. The grand banquet hall is prepared for an important delegation from the elven cities, and you’re standing with Gil-galad, going over the final seating arrangements. He points to one of the seats near the head of the table.

"Lady Galadriel should sit there," he says decisively.

You shake your head. "No, she should be closer to the center. That way, she can engage more easily with both the Galadhrim and the Lindon lords. She’ll feel isolated at the head."

Gil-galad sighs, rubbing his temple. "The head of the table is a place of honor. It shows respect."

"She won’t care about that," you insist, your voice rising slightly. "She cares about connection, not appearances."

"And what makes you think I don’t know what she cares about?" he says, turning to face you fully now, his brow furrowing. "I’ve known Galadriel for centuries."

"Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think," you counter, crossing your arms and standing your ground. You know you’re being difficult, but for some reason, every word out of his mouth today is setting you off. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. Maybe it’s the way he always manages to look so composed while you’re constantly flustered in his presence.

He takes a step closer, his gaze hardening, but his voice remains calm. "If memory serves, I am the High King, and the decision is mine."

Your heart pounds as he stands so close, his presence once again overwhelming you. You can smell the faint scent of pine and sea air on him, and you hate that even now, even in the middle of an argument, you can’t help but notice how maddeningly attractive he is.

"You always say that," you mutter, looking away, your face burning. "But sometimes I think you make these decisions just to frustrate me."

Gil-galad’s expression softens for just a moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Perhaps," he says quietly, "I do."

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glance up at him, your heart racing, but before you can say anything, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, flustered and confused once again.

—---------------------------

You walk down the quiet halls of the palace, your feet barely making a sound as you wander through the open corridors of Lindon. The sea breeze brushes against your face, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and pine. You’re lost in thought today, the memories of Sirion still haunting the edges of your mind despite the many years that have passed. 

Your steps slow as you near one of the open council rooms. Two familiar voices filter through the air. Círdan and Gil-galad. Their tones are low but clear enough for you to hear.

“You are the High King of the Noldor, Ereinion. It is your duty to provide a legacy, to ensure the future of our people,” Círdan says with that calm, ancient wisdom in his voice.

There’s a pause, and then you hear Gil-galad’s reply, strained but resolute. “No one deserves that burden, Círdan. To be bound to me would be a life of endless war and worry. The darkness presses closer each day. How could I ask anyone to endure that?”

“You would not be asking. Someone would gladly bear it, if it meant standing beside you,” Círdan counters softly. “There are many who would fill the role, Ereinion. And, if I may speak freely, there is already someone fit.”

A silence follows, heavier than the words before it. You find yourself holding your breath, your heart beating faster for reasons you can’t quite place.

Gil-galad sighs, the sound laced with weariness. “No. There is no one fit for such a task. Not… not her. She deserves more than I can give. I can never ask her to share in this life.”

Her? It couldn’t be you. A sudden weight settles in your chest as your mind scrambles for an explanation. Gil-galad must be in love with someone else—some other elleth, far more graceful and fitting for a king. Perhaps all those charged moments between you—the arguments, the heated exchanges—were nothing more than misunderstandings, your own heart playing tricks on you. You’ve been a fool, misreading his every glance, every word. Heat rises to your cheeks as embarrassment floods you. Of course, the High King would never see you that way.

You quietly slip away from the door, your heart heavy, and find Elrond later that evening. Without revealing too much of your turmoil, you convince him to take you on the next patrol. Anything to clear your mind, to escape these tangled feelings. Elrond hesitates at first, but you press, insisting that some fresh air and a change of pace will help you regain your focus.

But as you ride out with the patrol, your thoughts remain clouded with questions about the mystery elleth. Who is she? Is she one of the noble ladies who frequently attends court? One of the warriors who catches Gil-galad’s eye during council? 

The wind whispers through the trees as your patrol moves cautiously through the dense forest. The air is tense, but your thoughts are elsewhere—drifting back to the conversation you overheard, the words replaying over and over. Who could she be? Gil-galad’s voice, so calm, so certain, echoes in your mind. Whoever she is, she has captured his heart, and that realization claws at you, leaving you distracted and heavy with emotion.

"Are you well?" Elrond’s voice pulls you from your reverie. He rides beside you, his sharp eyes watching the tree line, ever the vigilant commander. You nod, forcing a tight smile, but your mind is still clouded.

Suddenly, a cry goes up from the front of the patrol. The snap of arrows cutting through the air is followed by the sickening thud of one hitting its target. Chaos erupts as orcs burst from the underbrush, their jagged weapons gleaming in the dim light. Your heart leaps into your throat, and instinctively, you draw your sword.

"To arms!" Elrond shouts, his voice clear and commanding over the din of battle. He’s already dismounting, swinging his blade with practiced precision, felling the first orc that rushes him. The patrol scatters, engaging the enemy in pockets of combat, but the ambush has left you surrounded.

You leap from your horse, blade in hand, but your focus is scattered, your movements just a fraction too slow. You parry an orc’s strike, feeling the jarring force of the blow reverberate through your arm. Another charges, and you swing your sword wide, catching it in the side. It falls, but more take its place.

The clashing of steel fills the air, mingled with the guttural roars of the orcs and the cries of your comrades. You fight to keep up, dodging and weaving between the advancing enemies, but your thoughts keep pulling you back—back to her. Whoever she is, she’s the one occupying Gil-galad’s heart, not you. Not ever you.

And that moment of distraction costs you.

An orc lunges from the side, and you turn too late. The blade slashes across your side with brutal force, the shock of it knocking you off your feet. A scream escapes your lips as the pain explodes through your body. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, blood already soaking through your tunic. You try to stand, but the world spins, your vision dimming at the edges.

"Sister!" Elrond’s voice cuts through the haze, frantic and filled with fear. He’s at your side, fighting off orcs left and right with terrifying precision. He’s calling for help, his face pale as he kneels beside you, hands pressed to your wound. His touch is warm, but you can feel the cold creeping in.

The battle rages on around you, but all you can focus on is the searing pain and the dull roar in your ears. Elrond’s voice fades in and out as he fights to keep you conscious. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the thundering of more hooves—reinforcements, maybe—but it’s too late. The darkness closes in, and your last thought is of Gil-galad. The king you love. The king you can never have.

The world goes black.

The gates of Lindon loom ahead as the patrol rushes back into the city, Elrond riding with you cradled in his arms. You’re barely conscious, the pain from your wound a constant, throbbing ache that keeps you teetering on the edge of blackness. Every breath is agony, and the blood loss has left you weak. Through the haze, you feel the rhythmic beat of your brother’s heart as he holds you close, murmuring soothing words that you can barely hear.

The moment you pass through the gates, the guards shout for aid, and in the next breath, you hear another voice—a voice that sends a jolt through your foggy mind.

"Ereinion," you manage to whisper, but the sound is drowned out by the clamor around you.

Gil-galad appears as if from nowhere, his face pale, eyes wide with fear as he takes in your bloodied form. His gaze locks onto the gash across your side, and his calm, regal demeanor shatters in an instant. He rushes to your side, kneeling next to Elrond as they carry you inside the palace, moving swiftly toward the healing chambers. His fingers tremble as they brush against your cheek, his breath shallow.

"What happened?" His voice is low, edged with a panic you’ve never heard from him before.

"An ambush," Elrond replies tersely, his focus never leaving you as he lays you gently on the bed. "She’s lost a lot of blood, and the wound is deep. I have to start healing her now."

Gil-galad nods, but his eyes remain on you, unable to tear himself away. As Elrond begins the healing process, the room fills with an eerie light. You know what’s coming—the agonizing burn as your brother’s power works to knit your flesh back together. It’s like fire coursing through your veins, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the scream rising in your throat.

The pain surges, and your body writhes involuntarily, your breath coming in short gasps. Elrond’s hands glow brighter as he works, but the intensity of the healing magic is unbearable. Your vision blurs, and a scream tears from your lips, the agony more than you can bear.

"Stay with me," Gil-galad’s voice suddenly breaks through the haze. You feel his hand wrap around yours, firm and steady, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Look at me."

You force your eyes open, your gaze locking onto his. His face is inches from yours, his expression raw with concern, and something else—something deeper that you can’t quite name.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asks, his voice soft but urgent, as if he’s trying to anchor you to the moment, to keep you from slipping away. "You were so angry. Soaked from the sea, all wide eyes and defiance. I knew then that you would be a thorn in my side."

Despite the pain, a weak, breathless laugh escapes you. "Glad... to oblige."

"You’ve been a constant thorn ever since," he continues, his tone light but laced with something tender. "Arguing with me at every turn. About everything. War. Politics. Even seating arrangements."

You wince as another wave of pain hits, but Gil-galad squeezes your hand, his grip steadying you, pulling you back from the edge. His eyes, usually so composed, are filled with a desperate kind of affection. "But," he murmurs, his voice low and almost trembling, "you are a thorn I would gladly bear every day of my life—if you would stay by my side."

Your heart races, but the words are lost in the haze of pain. All you can do is hold on to his voice, to the warmth of his hand in yours, as Elrond works tirelessly to heal you. The burning, searing pain seems to stretch on for hours, each second a battle to stay conscious. But Gil-galad doesn’t leave your side. He speaks to you quietly, distracting you from the worst of it, telling you of moments you had shared, of arguments he had secretly cherished because they meant you were there, with him.

When the pain finally subsides, and the last of the healing light fades from Elrond’s hands, you collapse back against the pillows, utterly exhausted. Your body is drenched in sweat, your limbs trembling, but the worst is over. Your eyes flutter closed, your mind drifting as sleep pulls you under. The last thing you feel is the warmth of Gil-galad’s hand still holding yours.

As you slip into unconsciousness, Gil-galad remains where he is, his fingers intertwined with yours, his expression unreadable. He leans his forehead against your hand, relief and exhaustion written in every line of his face.

"I won’t leave her," Gil-galad says quietly, his voice hoarse. He looks up at Elrond, his gaze unwavering. "Not until she releases me."

Elrond, weary but grateful, nods in understanding. "She’ll need you when she wakes," he says softly, placing a hand on Gil-galad’s shoulder before quietly leaving the room.

The High King stays, his grip never loosening, watching over you as the night wears on, his heart heavy with the weight of his unspoken feelings.

[unluckycactus]

Noble Boarding School AU

I’m disappointed in the shortage of Noble Boarding School AUs, so my brain just birthed one.

Quick note: Cale here stands for og!Cale.

Now, picture this: instead of waiting for years to start acting out, Cale Henituse age eleven convinces Deruth to send him to a noble boarding school. Violan is pregnant with Lily so the timing is just right, Cale wants to create the narrative that he’s getting kicked out.

Deruth is unsure, but Cale convinces him by throwing a fake tantrum after fake tantrum. He’s sick of being stuck at home all day, he says; he needs friends, yadda yadda. Cale relentlessly pushes and pushes and pushes, until Deruth finally gives up.

Cale has a plan! He’s going to become the worst troublemaker this school has, tarnish his reputation to the point his family is ashamed of him and the vassals can’t plead his case any longer, then make a huge mess to get expelled in a couple of years.

—except, Cale’s plan ends obliterated when he accidentally becomes the first year’s valedictorian.

"No, I was not standing up for the students! I was just complaining!", "I didn't intend to expose the staff corruption, I was trying to start trouble!" "I was trying to start a riot, not to form an student council!"

Who’s here:

Alberu — Reason: scammed the Queen.

Basically, she wanted to get rid of him to cement her children’s positions in the palace without his interference and tried to send him abroad.

Alberu is no fool and recognizes this is a good opportunity for networking: however, he won’t let his enemies peacefully get rid of him. He says ‘hell, no’ and pulls a Perez (In This Life, I Will Be The Lord/I Shall Master This Family) making the Queen pay him out of her own pocket to get rid of him.

Rosalyn — Reason: fooled her parents.

Our gal just wanted to study magic and the academy has a magic program, she basically lives a double life and her family has no idea.

Taylor Stan (uncrippled) — Reason: buying himself some time away from his crazy family to network in peace.

Eric Wheelsman & Gilbert — Reason: I just want them there.

I wouldn’t include Amiru because I’d like Amiru to focus in her own territory, therefore being homeschooled.

The reason why I’d add Gilbert is because, well, if the school has a magic program why not a knight program as well? Yes, it is just an excuse so I can add Choi Han as well.

I also would make Kim Rok Soo transmigrate as a teacher or something, too.

[merchen-aeravellae]

Under your balcony

Warnings: suicide, arranged marriage, manipulation, stalking, use of poisons

The beautiful city of Valvevia hides more than great museums and palaces that people can admire during the day, it also hides desperate monsters that hide at night without anyone observing them.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is supposed to hate you, after all, both families have been enemies for centuries and it doesn't seem like that situation will change anytime soon.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who couldn't help but have a crush on you since you two were teenagers, always looking for an opportunity to be close to you or to be noticed.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who already has all his friends annoyed, he only talks about you day, afternoon and night, and even when he sleeps, you are the only thing on his mind.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who infiltrates your family's parties just to see you up close, but he is careful that the rest of your family does not notice his presence, he would not like you to see him while he fights with a relative yours.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but feel bitter and at times angry, if only the two families were not in disputes and fights all the time, he would have already asked for your hand in marriage a long time ago.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who thinks you might be interested in him too, in his mind there is no other man who loves you as much as he loves you and that should be one of the reasons why he is the one for you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is oblivious to the fact that you also hate his family, including him, that you would rather jump off a bridge or stick a sword in your heart than date him voluntarily.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who sneaks into your house every night to be able to watch you under your balcony wishing he could watch you before going to sleep.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who once tried to recite a poem to you under your balcony and having the moon as a witness, described the eternal love that he felt for you and that he wanted nothing more than to be by your side for all eternity.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who ended up running if he didn't want to end up with a pot on his head, in his hideout he could hear you yelling curses and threats, but that didn't make him fall in love less, quite the opposite.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can also be very manipulative and unstable, and that side of him came out when he found out that your family were planning to marry you to the son of a marquis, his room became a mess after hearing the news.

Desperate Romantic Yandere thought of a thousand ideas to avoid that marriage, but nothing seemed good enough.

Desperate Romantic Yandere had an idea when one of the many nights of visiting you under your balcony, he dazzled a young woman who was walking near where he was.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who recognized the young lady, it was your younger cousin who he had only heard very little about her and who at that moment he had decided to use her as a pawn to get to his lover, you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who began to court her in secret, filling her with "love" and gifts, reciting poems about a future together and pouring out all a passionate love poems that are really for you, refuses to write poems for another person that is not you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but laugh maliciously, in less than 3 weeks he made this woman fall at his feet begging for more of his love, every day he was closer to reaching the last facet of his plan.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces her that everyone wants to separate them when in fact no one but them knows about their "relationship" and that they should go to more extreme measures to avoid being separated, he tells her that they should commit double suicide.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who advised her to write a letter describing how she had fallen madly in love with a member of the enemy family excluding his name, he would not risk them discovering his plan, much less you and that they had decided of their own free will to end their lives so as not to have to live another day without each other.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who gives her the white widow poison, a poison so deadly that the person dies in minutes without a cure to reverse the effect, convinces her that after her, he will also take the poison a lie and while he watches her die, thinks about who will be the poor soul of his own family who will take the role of the unfortunate lover.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who chooses his older cousin, if he disappeared, Desperate Romantic Yandere would be the next on the list to be the successor to take the title of duke, that would give him more advantage in being able to be with you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who watches with joyful eyes as the city of Valvevia goes into a state of panic when they discover the tragedy of the ill-fated lovers, the two families involved are devastated and have no time to continue their quarrel as they are so busy mourning their dead.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces his family that they should make a peace deal with the other family, but not just any deal, but a marriage deal and convinces them that you and he would be the best option, if the family wants to protest he reminds them about the recent tragedy and how they could avoid a similar event in the future.

Desperate Romantic Yandere that his plan was a complete success when he discovered that your marriage with the maques had been canceled and that your family had accepted the marriage proposal that his family had sent in a letter while explaining the advantages of a union of the two families.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is so ecstatic to see you walk down the aisle of the church towards him, daydreaming about what married life would be like and that he finally had everything he deserved. Instead, you were dying inside, first you had lost your darling little cousin and now you've been forced to marry the worst man you've ever known, and you were convinced that somehow he had planned all of this.

Desperate Romantic Yandere "to be with you is my dream, everything I long for and desire, it is my need and my reason for being"

[ataleofcrowns]

Chapter 12 Progress [08/APR]

Hey gang, I've started posting updates on my Patreon now that I'm actually making some damn progress on this chapter, so I figured to cross-post the latest update here as well. These are usually for members only but it's been sooo long, the ones I'm posting in April are all going to be for free 🙏🏼

This progress report focuses on a specific section of what I'm working on regarding CH12 and, more specifically, Kham.

About Kham

This one is turning out to be a bigger branching route than I expected. For those not in the know, I described in my dev sneak peek from last month how the opening scene of CH12 will involve the Crown dealing (or not dealing?) with Kham. It will be a bit of a culmination of all the choices you've made regarding Kham so far: did you inform her of the assassins in CH5, did you decide to trust her/were you honest with her in CH6, and did you choose to ask her to mediate for you in CH10?

Particularly that last decision will lead to the biggest difference in scenery: if you asked for Kham's help, you will get a scene at the palace involving her and the peri trader. If you decided not to ask her, however, the story will instead see you investigating the peri trader personally.

Initially, these were both two very clear branching paths with two very clear-cut consequences, but I decided it made more sense to offer additional variation. Choosing not to ask for her help with the peri trader will NOT lock you out of being able to ally with her... but the circumstances of it will be quite different compared to a player who has trusted Kham from the start and asked for her help.

You can, of course, decide not to ally with her on either branch as well, if you don't think she can be trusted. In which case, you should be prepared to make an enemy out of her: there's no fence-sitting on this one, and there won't be any chances to make an ally of her later on in the story. Similarly, if she turns out to be untrustworthy, and you make an ally out of her now, there won't be any takebacksies later... so you might end up stabbed in the back.

This is your one and only shot, so choose wisely.

About D and X

I'm currently working on the branch of the Crown dealing with the peri trader without Kham's involvement, and it's a pretty fun variation. There are some undercover detective vibes going on, and it's nice to write a scene set in the city as opposed to the palace for some variety. Though I've also dabbled in the route with Kham's help, and the Crown really flexes their royal authority in that one. Can go no wrong with either option in terms of entertainment, imo!

What's also been fun to explore further is how the main LI's subplot is starting to affect things in the story. I do have to note that for the branching sequence with the Kham choice, there's a bit of a spotlight on D and X since those two were gone for a whole chapter, so they get to spend some special time with the Crown in the first half of CH12. But R and A will be back for the rest of it!

I'll give you some D and X route crumbs this week since I've been chipping away at that one first, and hopefully I'll also have some on R and A next time:

For people who aren't on D's route, they'll get to find out something special about D that D romancers became privy to in CH11. It doesn't change much for the Crown on those routes, just some D lore you may enjoy and an opportunity to grow your friendship further.

As for D romancers, you all may or may not get a potentially devastating sequence depending on how your Crown handled their little court scene in CH11. If you managed to protect D, then all the better, but if you couldn't stamp out the court's protests... well, let's just say your Crown is going to have to be the one to inform D of any bad news.

Plus there's that damned letter to worry about. I'm sure that won't become any kind of problem at all.

For people who aren't on X's route, things are peachy! Honestly, all of the drama that happens for X romancers is not a big deal for everyone else, since X's romance with the Crown is the thing that causes them to act out. X friendship players are coasting in that regard, you just enjoy seeing X get to be their usual menace self.

For people who are romancing X, people on their low route might start noticing something different about them. Their actions in the high and low romances will be the exact same, but the vibes on the low route will be off, to say the least. You can still recover to a high route! But it will require having to pierce through that mask X is so fond of wearing...

High romancers: kick back, relax, and enjoy your upcoming romance content guilt-free LMAO

That was it for this week!! I wish I could give you an estimated release window, but I've been wrestling with this chapter, and I'm frankly deeply afraid I won't be able to finish it before summer rolls in 💀

Please keep your local struggling writer in your thoughts and prayers, and as always thank you for your patience and support 🙏🏼

[torturedtraveler]

mulan: the best disney character ever made

okay, i may be in a disney phase right now. but as a fellow asian, there is no way i'm going to talk about disney princesses without mentioning the best disney princess (character) disney has ever made - mulan.

originally a legendary chinese folk heroine from the northern dynasty era in chinese history. the disney adaptation of mulan is somewhat similar, only difference is that she had siblings in the original folklore, and she had to go to war because her brother was too young and her father was too old, and at the end, she revealed her identity only after returning home.

let's face it, the fact that a disney princess went to war made her stand out from the rest of the lineup. let's go over a few badass facts about her in the movie: 1. she wasn't going to give up because she did bad in training. her perseverance and determination led to her trying over and over, pulling herself up that pole that literally no other men in the army could do. she's unbending, not willing to give up without putting up a fight, and she not only proved to li shang and her peers that she's not weak, she proved to herself after all that self-doubt that she's just as capable as anyone else, more than anyone else if anything. 2. the fucking avalanche scene. the fact that she was smart enough, quick-witted enough to plot that within seconds with her enemy right in front of her, clearly using her brain for a good cause to save her entire army which consisted of about 50 people against thousands of huns. war is about tactics, and she demonstrated just that. she also ignored the pain of her wound to pull li shang up from the snow just shows her loyalty to her troops. 3. even after being thrown out of her army in the middle of the mountains full of snow, seeing the huns rising from the snow, she knew she gotta alert li shang that they were coming. despite li shang not believing her (or tried to ignore her), she tried her best to come up with ways in attempt to save her country from potentially being invaded. at that moment, she didn't care about the fact that she literally lost her dignity in front of everyone, she only cared about her country, her homeland, and that just shows how selfless she is.

4. the last scene was probably the most badass out of the entire movie. again, plotting a scheme within minutes in attempt to save the emperor, coming up with ways to get into the palace, get into the emperor's room, and revealing her identity as ping to shan yu to save li shang again. best part was, the only weapon she had in her hand was a fan, it not only symbolized her identity as a female, but also the fact that she was a female in the army. (fucking pulling the sword out of the fan was so badass i need to insert the gif here)

everything about that scene was perfect. it wasn't entirely serious, some ridiculous humor was implemented there and there, but also allowed for one final demonstration of how strong mulan is, not physically, but mentally.

5. actually, this last one might be the most badass. she didn't bring honor to her family (and herself) by marrying a man, starting a family like what the society expected her to, she earned a standing ovation, a collective bow from the entire country of china and the emperor with her own hands. best part? she didn't care about the honor, she didn't care about the fact that she was offered a position in the council as a female, she only cared about her family, her father. love was what made her strong. gracefulness, bravery, loyalty, and intelligence are just a few of her qualities. not only was the character full of great qualities, her imperfections were also shown, her stubbornness and clumsiness. it felt as though she was a real human because of her merits and faults, and her character development throughout the movie never ceases to amaze me.

again, i don't want to go on forever about this, but one thing will never change - mulan will always be my favorite fictional character ever created.

my little baby is all grown up and ... and savin' china

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

Astyanax takes another step towards the reconciliation with Odysseus, long snippet ahead, grab some popcorn

One cannot be raised by Odysseus and not ended up being resourceful. In the following week after finding himself alone in Trojan territory, Astyanax had managed to do a few things.

Using the curtains from the palace, he made a cape and something to cover his face while he scouted the ruins filled of dus. This way he managed to find ink and paper, which he use to let letters in the main doors of what was the city of Troy once before.

With the longest stick he could find, he draw in the wet sand of the beach the map of his travels, one he has always known from memory, and with the memory of Eurylochus' voice, he used the stars to situate Troy in said map.

He didn't build a refuge, the weather allowed him to sleep at the beach, covering himself with the curtains once more. Food wasn't a problem either, after sharpening his stick, it was a matter of patience and stabbing some fishes in the water at the shore.

The little ghost even made a bow, rough and rudimentary, but it served it purpose.

The problem came when he thought about leaving Troy. Building a raft wasn't a plan, it won't survive the distance he wanted to cover, and he didn't know if he could build another later on. Every small boat he had managed to find was rotten, so that was out of the question too.

And of course, he didn't even think once about asking the gods for help, cynic as he was of them. Pity that they didn't think the same.

An owl had been following from afar the whole week. He didn't have any interest in befriending Athena, nor he wanted to be her enemy, but the owl couldn't be blame for being the goddess' puppet, so Astyanax let him half of every fish he captured.

The bird was actually a good listener.

"Shouldn't you be doing anything else? Stalking me can't be that funny, I'm just a boy!"

Sometimes he commented on the situation, puzzled.

"What about helping Odysseus? He's in a lot of shit right now. Calypso has only been nice to me, but that doesn't mean she's nice to him...look, I'm worried about him, ok? All alone in that island with that woman and his luck? Not a good combination."

The owl never answered of course, but in exchange for his kindness, the bird guided him to a box of candles, deep in the palace. The boy brought the opened box to his nose, lowering the cloth that covered his face, and marveled at the delicate smell that came from the candles. He knew exactly what to do with them.

He went to the pile of rotten wood that stood in the main place, as he has been doing every time he needed to light up some fire. The wood that caused once Troy's fall was now keeping him dry and warm, there was something poetic in that, and in a way, Odysseus was taking care of him again, despite the original purpose of the wooden horse.

Astyanax looked for a corner of the place where the wind won't disturb the flame of a candle, and there, he light up one of them and make his offer. A leaf with water, a shiny seashell, a rock with the colour of the Moon, a few drops of blood and a piece of his hair.

Yes, he was a cynic, but he was no atheist. Defying the gods was one thing, but having been raised by a religious man, he would never renounce them.

"I pray to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the hunt, carer of children, may her bless this bow and protect me in my deeds. I pray to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, may her stop me from succumbing to Ares and the nonsense of vengeance. I pray to Hermes, God of Messages and Travelers, may him..."

A laugh interrupted him.

"You know, I'm already here, you may as well ask me in person."

Astyanax stood and turned to look at Hermes.

"I thought someone would show up", he admitted, "but I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh, you know me, I like surprises."

"Do you now." The boy let the candle burning and the box next to it. Their purpose was fulfilled. "What can I do for you, herald of the gods?"

He walked to the beach, Hermes following behind.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question, my friend? Look at you! Leaving messages here and there! Yelling at Zeus to spread your word! I'm curious, whose the recipient? Who should receive your words of defiance?"

"They're not of defiance."

"Then what?"

"Hope. That's my message to every Trojan survivor and to the gods," Astyanax look into the distance, lost in thought, "Troy will rise again, that's my message. But before that..."

He slide downwards through a sandy dune, moving towards the shore.

"...before that I must get Odysseus home, I have nothing without him, no family and no purpose. I can't rebuild Troy in my own and I can't let him alone no longer with Calypso." He stared at his map, calculating distances in his mind. "I must get back to him quickly."

"That's a great plan, what a shame he's no longer at Calypso's anymore."

"Wait what." Astyanax stopped in his track, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Another laugh came from Hermes.

"I mean what I said, friend! He's at the sea as we talk, and in great danger."

"Of course he is," said the boy as he rolled his eyes, "it wouldn't be him if he wasn't."

He looked at his map again, thinking.

"I'm too far away from Calypso's," he murmured to himself, "I'm closer to Ithaca, unbelievable. No raft would survive the trip but...you are still here."

Always the jokester, Hermes mirrored his calculating face, but he was smiling.

"You still haven't asked me for anything."

"You are going to make me beg?"

"Beg? Who do you think I am? Do I look like Zeus to you? Nah, you want something that I can give, all you have to do is ask."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks."

Astyanax stared at the sea, knowing that beyond the horizon, beyond Ithaca, was his father.

"I want a way to reach him in time, nothing else."

Hermes clapped his hands.

"A thoughtful wish, that's for sure!" He bowed, still smiling. "I came here with something for you, you know? It's good to know that you also want it."

Reaching into his satchel, Hermes took out...

"Wait, really? A pair of your winged sandals?" Astyanax was shocked.

"What? You don't want them?" Hermes laughed.

"I didn't say that! I-I... it's because I know what it means."

With his free hand, Hermes ruffled Astyanax's hair. The boy blushed, fast.

"Aww, he's shy because he is under my protection now!" The god didn't doubt in mocking him. "Come on, put them on! They must be exactly your size."

"Y-yes, of course."

"Hm, they look good. Ok, walk a little, yes, now a little sprint...they suit you! I don't need them back, but use them wisely!"

Astyanax nodded, still red as a tomato.

"And because I'm awesome and those are my sandals after all, not only they are disguised as normal shoes, they also light up if you stomp your foot! Cool, isn't it?"

"Really cool," agreed the kid, "you are so random, I love it."

"Glad to hear that! It's part of my charm, my friend. And last, but not least..." Hermes winked, before handing him two sticks. "Be careful with them, have you ever heard of 'don't play with fire'?"

Astyanax grabbed the sticks, but Hermes didn't let go, still playful, but now serious.

"These sticks, when rubbed together, always make fire, I don't need to warn you about the dangers of fire, do I?"

"I'm aware of the danger."

"Good! Now, for my last little gift... don't you have some kind of rope?"

The boy, surprised, pointed at the curtains he took from the palace the first day he found himself at Troy.

"I didn't find any rope, so I cut some stripes from the curtains and then braided them."

"That's perfect, now, gimme gimme gimme...good, now give me your haaaand...yes yes yes, there, a nice friendship bracelet!"

"Mmm...what for"

"To find that father of yours, of course! You just have to ask."

Astyanax looked at Hermes, then looked at the rough braid that was now around his wrist, long hanging ends and all, and decided it was worth a try.

"Where's Odysseus of Ithaca?"

In a heartbeat, the loose ends starting floating, no, pointing...

"Great! So I just have to follow...and fly there." He said, remembering his new sandals. "The last thing I told him was that I hated him...he must think I abandoned him. Thank you, Hermes, how can I repay you?"

"Repay me? What for? Don't be boring, my friend, that's more than enough."

"Boring? I'm the righteous heir to the Trojan throne, I don't think I can be boring."

"That's the spirit, friend, good luck out there!"

And then a flying pre-teenager with two fire-sticks and a lot of self confidence aids Odysseus against Charybdis

Also, Astyanax in this point of his life:

[h7jfangirl]

WONDERLAND KING!JEKYLL DRAWINGS!!!!

HE LOOKS SO FRUTY

For his outfit I wanted to him to have actual king's cloths so I used a reference and also kinda fuse the clothing with Jekyll's, so he looks WONDERFUL

Henry didn't came to Wonderland with that outfit, of course he came with his usual one. His king outfit was a gift from Wonderland, he just behaves so well in here! He is TRULY not only one of them! BUT THE ONE! why wouldn't be the man that in sanity splited his soul in two be NOT worth it for the title of KING OF MADNESS!?

He was a leader before, but now he will finally be the GREATEST OF ALL! Now in his new castle at London, once known as "The Society for Arcane Sciencies", the fun will never end!

"Where... where did he get that outfit?" Even Hyde has his opinions about it.

He mostly wears blue with some yellow, however the red hints are meant to represent that this is still Henry, SO maybe.... And just maybe... It's not too late for him...

Even under Wonderland's influcence, Henry dosen't see the need to change Laynon at all, for him, Robert it's just perfect as he is and wants to keep him like that, Laynon on the other hand... He loves Henry but he has his limits

I can imagine their dynamic would be like Henry keeping Robert inside the castle and oftenly comes to him, acting very flirtous towards Laynon. He treats Robert more like his favorite pet/toy who carries wherever he goes through the castle, a something to adore rather than a someone

While for Laynon everything it's... terrifying. He tries his best to follow this madness without 'losing his head' [In the two meanings...] In hopes he finds a way to snap Jekyll out of it. The world he once knew it's nothing but a memory buried deep down under this big childsh-madhouse, nothing makes sense to him anymore! He is always getting lost in the palace for how often the rooms and physics seems to change whatever they want, and is always guessing which answer the king and the other citizens would like to hear so he won't DIE, or whatever your majesty decide to do with him. The citizens dont see him as their other ruler, not even a equal, so they constanly play pranks and bad jokes on him, and if Robert gets upset then they will always tell to him that they would stop only but if only he truly joins with his king in 'holy madness'

He is an outcast in this 'new society'. For them, everything he does is wrong and inappropriate, and he absolutely hates that. The most normal conversations he ever has are with Henry but Laynon can't not longer let his guard down anymore, especially if Henry is not in the room, because when he is not around everything gets... unsettling. Robert feels watched by the surroundings, the sky, the floor, the walls, the lights, even by the air itself, and have hear voices every time he could swear that he was alone

It's like the whole world it's mocking him...

(So yeah, he is constantly dealing with bullshit, it hasn't been easy for him)

And Hyde didn't have it easier neither

At first, Hyde was EXCITED to have his own body, and Wonderland seems like a great place with plenty of opportunities! But Hyde being Hyde mess up his own way and started to have bad luck around the place, always getting in trouble and gaining enemies where he went through. Hyde need to pay for his crimes against Wonderland's citenzs!

And yes, he got capture by the Queen of Hearts for messing her garden of roses, however she is not the punishment. Hyde showed himself unworthy, so instead the role will be lead by his better and more manipulable side

Hyde wanted to be part of Wonderland but he realized that it's not that fun as he thought, but when he found the way out and left, he accidentally brought the madness with him. He doesn't feel guilty about it (or at least won't admit it) despite everyone who blames him, even Rachel. But now he is a proud member of some revolutionary team to stop this madness, that it's being led by Alice herself, the only one known who survived Wonderland, and it seems that he has an important part to play on this so Hyde is pretty happy about it, ESPECIALLY knowing that he is not the only one plotting angaist Jekyll anymore and now for actual value reasons, it's funnier than being a wonder

Jekyll, does not want Hyde at all

Hyde is a burden for him and Wonderland itself, Edward himself is one of them, he is already mad and his body does belong to Wonderland, but for some reason he is also immune to its power. Not matter what, Jekyll and Hyde are still connected, it was thanks to Hyde that they managed to escape the land, and also without knowing, leading the madness with him. Jekyll always knows where Hyde is, even if they are miles away from each other. However he doesn't see him as a threat, he just enjoys how Hyde is struggling without nothing but himself, and how his team is plotting against him in vain... If he desired he could just snap his fingers and all of them would be turned into wonders without a second thought, but he just kept them around because of Hyde

But the king enjoys the suffering of others, because he has the memories of suffering too

He does remember who he used to be, right before he even gave a step into Wonderland, his perspective has changed completely now.

What once he thought it was terrifying, it turned out to be the easiest thing in the world, and now he sees it now...

But, even as the king the voices are still annoying.

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡kiss of indifference 🌙

"'cause i have hella feelings for you, i act like i don't fucking care, 'cause i'm so fucking scared"

post water of life! paul atreides x fremen! reader | word count: 2,076 words

summary: paul's recent indifferent attitude towards you causes new sparks to fly~ 🌙

warnings: long intro? before dialogue, slight angst, paul still loves reader while engaged to irulan (previously established relationship), yelling (you two make up in the end!), mild spice (MDNI), heated kissing

note: kinda rushed. first time writing this much, WOO! might be a bit inaccurate, i tried my best. 🫠 enjoy!

paul atreides. the skinny, dark haired, and pale skinned boy you had fallen for. the boy who didn't care about being lisan al ghaib, but who rather hated it. the boy who would immediately shut down his mother's talks of her bene gesserit lore and prophecy, who would instead find solace and comfort in your arms.

this was not him. this was some blue eyed doppelgänger wearing his skin, you were sure of it. the sudden shift in his attitude and overall demeanor after having consumed the "water of life" sent a chill down your spine. obviously, you weren't the only one that noticed. but you were the only one who was concerned about it.

paul was becoming...distant. especially from you. with his duties as the new emperor, it was understandable. even more so, since he'd asked for irulan's hand in marriage. the fact that he'd professed his love for you and then asked for such a thing in almost the same breath broke your heart and crushed your soul. you'd often see paul accompanying the princess to meetings and such. obviously he didn't love her, he never had 'that' look in his eyes when he looked at her. 'that' look being the one he'd have in his eyes as he'd sneak glances at you as you'd pass each other in the hallways of the grand palace or when you'd attend meetings as well to give some freman insight. saying that paul hated this was an understatement. but he had to keep up appearances, attending meetings and staying one step ahead of his enemies.

that was another problem, his enemies. he always had to keep up with his image of being a stern and almost cutthroat leader, which meant showing no weakness, ever. unfortunately, this also meant distancing himself from people he truly cared about: his mother, his unborn baby sister, and worst of all...you. after all, the only reason you were let into palace was by paul's orders. he'd have to force himself not to love you, or at least act like it. your greetings were met with a nod or a silent mumble, or, like most times, nothing at all.

it was late at night, the sound of your ticking clock keeping you awake. no, it was actually your never ending thoughts of none other than paul. you wanted nothing more that to rush out of your room to his, knock on his door, and give him the biggest hug you could give, to run your fingers through his dark brown locks again, to tell him that everything would be okay. you stood up, deciding to take a walk through the palace to clear your mind. as you opened the door, you were met by paul, mid-knock. his hair was a little messy and it seemed like he'd just retired from his study.

you didn't say anything, instead stepping aside to let him come in and closing the door behind him. there was a moment of silence that felt it had lasted a little too long before paul spoke up. "how have you been? you seem to be looking well." paul commented, standing in the middle of your room as you sat on your bed. "yes, i've been fine. and what of you?" he wasn't even looking at you. yes, he was facing you and to anyone else, it looked as though he was staring straight at you. but his mind was obviously elsewhere...he wasn't paying attention to you.

"paul," you said, raising your voice a bit and reaching out to hold his hand. you could see him being pulled out of his state of distraction, your hand squeezing his. "talk to me. this is the first time we've been alone together in weeks. please..." paul could see the pleading in your eyes, a soft sigh leaving him as he sat down next to you. "don't worry about it," he brushed you off, pulling his hand out from your grip. "i simply came to see how you're doing." an obvious lie. "paul, something's bothering you. you can tell me," you began. "[y/n], i'm fine," "but you're not. i can tell it's eating you up inside, the visions, your enemies."

"[y/n]-" he was staring to get irritated, not at you, but at the fact that you were right. it was eating him up, slowly consuming him and making him lose himself more and more each day. "it's why you've been avoiding me, right? you're scared they'll take advantage of your affection towards me-" paul stayed silent, his fingers curling up into fists as he looked at the floor. you grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "these visions don't define you, paul! this prophecy doesn't define you! you can't just run away from us and face this on your own!"

that was easy for you to say. you didn't have throngs of people either depending on you or praying for your untimely death. you didn't have the weight of the entire universe on your shoulders. "you don't understand-" "i'll try to-!" "YOU CAN'T!" paul yelled, pushing your hands away from his face. you flinched, your eyes going wide as he stood up and ran his hands through his hair. "you can't possibly understand the horrific things i've seen each time i so much as close my eyes. do you know what i see? people dying from starvation. holy wars being waged in my very name. the people i care about with every bone in my living body being slaughtered in front of me! and you," he turned to you pointing an accusing finger at you as if it were a blade. "you sit here and act like you understand me?"

you didn't expect for paul's words to hurt so much. he'd never raised his voice at you, and he'd certainly never yelled at you. you felt like a knife was being twisted into your heart as the boy you loved turned into someone you didn't even recognize. "i'm just trying to comfort you," "well stop! because...because i love and care about you so much, it physically hurts me. i'd be a lost soul if something ever happened to you," you looked at your hands, feeling a whirlwind of emotions as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. but you refused to cry.

"you should go. i'm sure irulan's looking for you." "you know we sleep in separate rooms-" "still...you don't need unsavory rumors on top of all you have to deal with..." you turned away from paul, using the back of your hand to dab away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. you felt the bed dip, but didn't turn to look at him. "[y/n], look at me..." you didn't answer, sniffling softly and moving to get up, ready to try your hand at kicking him out once again. a soft yell left your lips as paul's slim fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you right back next to him, his face so undoubtedly close to yours. you could smell the pent up emotion on him, a word of protest ready on your tongue.

before you even knew what was happening, paul's lips were on yours. you let your eyes flutter shut, yelping softly into the kiss as he pulled flush against him, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies. another observation you'd made was that ever since paul drank the "water of life", he'd been extra aggressive in most everything: he'd give people harsher punishments, he'd execute orders with upmost precision, and when he loved...he'd love harder. his heart was practically bursting at the seams as all the love he'd been forced to shove down spilled out of him in the form of a bruising kiss.

you felt dizzy as paul pulled away from you, your cheeks flushed and your breathing a bit labored. the two of you just stared at each for a while, your fingers still twirling strands of his dark hair. "still want me to leave?" he asked, lightly brushing his lips against yours, his action making your eyes flutter shut. you felt your heart squeeze as you opened your eyes once again, gazing at him through watery eyes. "paul-" "i know...i know." paul's hands came up and cupped your face once more, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and wiping away your tears. "me too...i'm sorry too..." he whispered before leaning back in to meet your lips again.

a shaky breath left your lips as you melted into the kiss once again, your hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he'd slip right through your fingers. paul's fingers playfully danced beneath the fabric of the shirt of your sleepwear, slowly tracing the skin of sides, as if trying to relearn their curvatures. your hand snaked up to tangle into his hair, a few tears flowing down your cheeks. not because you didn't want this; in fact, you wanted this so much it almost hurt. your breath hitched as you felt paul deepen the kiss, his body pressing against yours.

as you pulled away, breathing a bit heavier and cheeks flushed, you swallowed and met paul's eyes. the look in them was an untamed mix of love and something more. "...we should stop..." you murmured, your hands moving down to cup his face. you felt him relax into your touch, your heart warming. "you're right...but i don't want to-" just as he was about to lean back in for another kiss, a rhythmic knock on your door stopped him.

"ignore it." he muttered , a flash of irritation on his face. "but-" paul cut you off with another kiss, pushing you back into the mattress. his lips started to move with newfound fervor, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses over the skin of your jaw and down to the dip of your neck. feeling paul's hands start to roam under your shirt caused a soft sound between a gasp and a moan to leave your lips. "paul~" you muttered, letting your eyes flutter shut.

another knock made his hiss in annoyance. "[y/n], are you awake?" princess irulan's voice asked from behind the grand door. you and paul looked at each other, his eyes giving you a serious look. he got up and reluctantly hid in the little space between your bed and the wall.

"i'm sorry to bother you so late at night." the princess said, a gentle expression on her face. "oh, no, not at all, princess. what did you need?" "just irulan is fine. i was wondering if you'd seen paul. he wasn't in his study." you felt your stomach churn as the princess said his name. you shook your head, muttering a quick apology. "no, i haven't seen him today. maybe he went outside to get some fresh air." you lied. she gave your room a quick scan from where she stood and you knew she knew. she knew and decided to stay silent. "very well, have a good night." "you as well."

once the door closed, you were met with paul's bright blue eyes as he stood behind you, a soft but startled yell leaving you. you hadn't even heard him get up. he reached out and held your hand, gently squeezing it and kissing the back of it, letting his lips linger for a moment. paul then looked back up at you, leaning in and brushing his lips to yours one last time. "i'll see you soon..." he whispered against your lips, a soft hum of a response leaving you. you squeezed his hand, feeling your heart skip a beat. "yeah...see you soon..." he pulled away from you, making his way to the door and opened it a crack, glancing for anyone else that might be awake.

just as he was about to take his leave, you grabbed his hand, leaning back in to give him on final kiss. "good night." you murmured, your grip absentmindedly tightening. you didn't want to let him go, not now, not ever. not after knowing this would be the last night the two of you would share like this before paul went back to wearing that dreaded mask of indifference. "good night." you felt his hand slip from your as he took his leave, turning to meet your ocean blue eyes once last time. now you knew, he still loved you, even if he wouldn't show it.🌙

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[nonexistent-alfa]

So it's basically confirmed that the Thames household and the Archduke's House of Snow are related? Because I 200% believe they are. Dennis basically confirms it when he recalls the portraits of the last Archduke's family. The youngest young master of that family was speculated to have survived and gone into hiding and continued his lineage somewhere. Now, that happened 200 years ago.

What if the youngest young master of the Archduke's House of Snow fled to a different dimension when his family was annihilated by the Purple Bloods. A dimension which we know as Nameless 1? Of course a fugitive like him wouldn't have continued with the Snow family name. So he started his family of Thames. (Gasp- what if the youngest young master's name was Thames Snow? Or maybe someone else in his family was named Thames whom he named his new family after?) It makes sense because we don't know exactly how far the Thames family's history goes. All the noble households in the kingdoms don't necessarily have to have a history as old as the royal family. The Thames and Snow families both being famous for their red hair is a detail that I don't think Yoo Ryeo Han-nim would have included without deeper intentions.

With that in mind I went back to the chapter where Cale exchanged words with fake Hilsman and... It kinda shook my belief that the Thames are the Red Bloods. Even though I thought before that it's gonna be the same as the Dabi-Touya reveal. But Fake Hilsman admits that he is not a Hunter and seems to have grudge against the Hunters.

In fact he says "anyone with Thames blood should loathe the Hunters". That it'd be a shame if Cale didn't have the drive to annihilate the Hunters. If we think of it in relation to the Archduke's House of Snow and go with the theory that the House of Snow is the predecessor of House of Thames, then it makes sense for the Thames to loathe the Hunters (Purple Bloods) who almost wiped out their ancestors.

Okay, let's make a list of things we know so far in relation to this topic

The Thames household perished when Jour Thames was young. The young Jour, the conscience in the half of Jour's ancient power presumed to be in her mid teens by Cale, says "so I really did end up alone" when she reads the diary of her older self. Which means the Thames household perished sometime after that, but still before she graduated from Academy because that's where she met Deruth and Deruth says the Thames had perished since before he met her. So within that short timeframe of Jour's mid-to-late teens, the Thames household perished (or went into hiding more likely).

Zed Crossman, who became king at a young age, helped erase the records of the Thames household. It's also speculated that Alberu's mom died because of the Hunters. Well, it's only Cale's speculation but it's a highly likely possibility.

After disappearing from the royal palace after it was attacked, Zed has been dimension hopping??? Because God of Death can't track him down because his location keeps changing. Is he the one chasing or being chased? Whichever it may be, I think the answer is pretty clear as to who his enemy is.

I think it's the Five coloured household. They're the only ones who don't have a home base unlike the other households so if Zed is the one doing the hunting then it makes sense for him to be running around. The Black Bloods patriarch said the ones responsible for the incident at the royal palace were the Five-coloured before dying. So if Zed is the one being hunted, it also points towards the same household.

Additionally, Fake Hilsman said there were Hunters present at the Puzzle city battlefield where the Sealed God's temple appeared. Cale noticed a couple of strong individuals recruited by his father were missing at that point. Safe to conclude those were also the wanderers of the Five coloured household.

The Hunter household known as Red Bloods which is thought to be perished is extremely important in all of this since (and this is a spoiler even to myself) Jour's presumed brother (the fake Hilsman), who is a Thames himself, and Cotton (God of War's holy maiden) are looking for them. Choi Jung Gun also told Cale to look for them in the Sloth test.

Which reminds me of the other source of information in Cale's inventory. The white mask worn by the White Star. His ancient powers were Embraced in that mask by Cale. If he only wishes, he could talk to White Star's conscience in the ancient powers, which I don't believe would have disappeared with his soul. He could ask White Star about how the Thames perished.

But, from what we can gather from all this is that the Thames (and Snow) are likely not Red Bloods.

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

[seungkw1]

maestro — ljh // chapter 1

⛧ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns) ⛧ theme: fantasy, suggestive (18+ smut in future chapters) ⛧ chapter wc: 2.7k ⛧ warnings: minor knife violence ⛧ a/n: when i tell u that lee jihoon wrecked me sooooo bad this comeback !!!! the maestro mv was fully giving villain!woozi and my brain took that and absolutely ran with it. also, this is my first chapter fic!! much more to come, stay tuned <3

Your knowledge of the enemy is minimal, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer that is not to be trifled with - and you’ve just walked right into his trap.

You fucked up.

Your task was simple enough: sneak into the palace, steal the ring, and get the hell out. You’ve done countless jobs like this over the years - you're a professional for fuck’s sake. Sure, this gig was a bit more high-profile than usual, but nothing you couldn't handle. 

Yet somehow, they caught you. 

You rack your brain for a clue - something, anything, to indicate what went wrong. But you come up blank. Everything had gone according to plan (up until you found yourself surrounded by imperial guards with a knife at your throat, anyway), not a single detail overlooked. Something is off here, your instinct tells you. 

Here you are now, being forcefully escorted through the palace’s underlevels by a squad of imperial goons. The head goon hauls you through the dim hallways, his grip on your arm painfully tight, knife drawn and at the ready in case you were to try something foolish. A dark mask covers his lower face, so he's hard to get a read on, but you can tell he’s nothing more than a large, brainless oaf. You’ve single-handedly outwitted enemies like him in the past - but here, you are far too outnumbered. For the time being, you comply. 

You arrive at a large steel door, adorned only by a small barred window in its middle. With a rough shove the guard pushes you into the cell - you fall to the ground, your palms striking the cold stone floor. The hinges let out a horrid creaking sound before the door slams shut with a loud CLANG. You hear the clunking of a heavy chain, then the click of a padlock. Footsteps fade away as the imperial squad retreats - then, silence. You are all alone, trapped, imprisoned in this musty cell, somewhere in the depths of the Maestro’s palace. 

You sit on the hard ground, alone with your thoughts. The more you think about it, the only explanation is that this was a setup. But the Agency’s entire job is to sift through lies and misinformation; if this was a trap, there must be something larger at play - something elaborate, sinister. 

Unfortunately for you, you have nothing but time to try and piece together this puzzle. You lean your head against the stone wall, trying to figure out how the fuck you're gonna get yourself out of this mess. 

The absence of natural light leaves you with no way of telling time. The silence grows eerie. Your mind wanders, imagination soon running wild. You’ve heard of people who lose their minds within days of solitary confinement. Will that happen to me?, you can’t help but wonder. How long will I be here? Are they going to bring me food, or am I doomed to die of starvation? How did I even end up here? What are they planning to do with me? What if they forget about me? What if…

Your mind grows weary. You decide to lay down - no use in staying awake and overthinking. You rest your head on the gravelly floor - it’s uncomfortable, but your eyelids soon become heavy. You drift in and out of consciousness, strange visions and voices floating through your mind. Before long, you are asleep.

You’re running. You don’t know where to, but you are running through winding, endless corridors. Running from… something. You don’t know what. The sound of your racing heartbeat pounds in your ears, surpassed only by the heaving pants of your labored breathing. The neverending halls begin to expand around you - they grow larger and larger, disorienting your sense of perception. From behind, unsettling noises draw nearer and nearer: screeching echoes, thunderous crashes, wicked laughter. You run, but it’s not fast enough. The horrid sounds infiltrate your mind, reverberating through your skull so loudly you feel as if your head is about to explode. Suddenly, through blurred vision you see the hallway’s end; at it stands a cloaked figure, facing away from you. You can’t see anything else of the entity, but you sense the dark energy that surrounds it. Dread wells in the pit of your stomach, filling you with terror - but, for some reason, you are drawn to the malevolent being. Their presence is magnetic, alluring - frightening, but seductive. You press on - you don’t know why, but you must get to them. Your legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead - each footstep slowing you down further. You’re almost there, almost, almost… finally - the figure is within arm’s reach. In excruciating slow motion, you extend your hand toward them. Your fingertips graze the black cloak, its woven texture coarse against your skin. Your hand glides over the thick fabric - you close your grip around their shoulder, forcefully turning them around to face you. You lift your gaze to look at their face-

BANG.

You jolt awake in a panic. Disoriented, heart pounding, it takes you a moment to realize you’re still in the cold, dark prison cell. Faint light enters the room through the now-open doorway. Standing in it is a tall, thin man - you can barely make out his face, but his presence is unsettling. He peers down at you, his piercing eyes practically boring a hole into your head. 

“Come with me,” is all he says. 

You blink dully a few times, still not fully lucid. You try to process what all is happening, but your dream (nightmare?) weighs heavily at the forefront of your mind. The odious man quickly becomes irritated.

“GET UP!” he bellows at you.

You rise, stumbling to your feet. Two guards enter from behind him, swiftly seizing hold of your arms and yanking you out of the cell. They halt in front of the man. An unpleasant scowl seems permanently engraved on his face. He smirks at you.

“Well aren’t you pretty.”

You spit on the ground in front of his feet. The man glares at you with vitriol. He draws a short sword from the depths of his cloak, pointing it at your face. He traces the razor-sharp tip lightly across your cheek.

“Act like that again,” he sneers. With a quick flick of the wrist he delivers a small slash into your cheekbone. You barely flinch.

“And I’ll carve some very permanent scars into that pretty little face of yours.”

You stare at him, but say nothing. With a huff he turns, sauntering off into the hallway.

“Come along now. The Maestro wants to see you.”

—

The first thing you notice upon entering the chamber is the hundreds of candles set alight, illuminating the otherwise unlit space. The second is the hooded figure seated upon the throne at the room’s distant end, reclining arrogantly - watching you intensely. 

You hadn’t seen their face, but you know: it is the figure from your dream.

The guards stand you before the Maestro. You still can’t see their face. The thin man who summoned you steps forward, giving a small bow to his master.

“The thief, Your Majesty.”

The Maestro leans forward. Their face, previously shadowed, becomes illuminated in the candlelight: you see a man, much younger than anticipated - and strikingly beautiful. His eyes, adorned with dark makeup, peer up and down your body, studying you. He rises, nonchalantly descending the few steps before him; the clacking of his boots against the dark marble echoes through the otherwise silent chamber. He strolls toward you, maintaining eye contact, coming to a stop within mere inches of you. Slowly he removes his hood, revealing a head of long pale tresses. Up close, he is even more stunning. 

The man lifts his hand, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your head, observing the cut on your cheek.

“I told you to bring me the prisoner unharmed,” he scolds his servant. His gaze doesn’t stray from your face.

The subordinate’s face drops. “Apologies, my liege,” he responds hesitantly. “I-”

“Leave.”

He says nothing else. The servant’s eyes darken with fear. “My liege-”

The man before you motions to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards seize the man, dragging him from the chamber in silence. The door closes with a heavy thud. You are now alone with the enemy. 

Your existing knowledge of the mysterious individual known as the Maestro is minimal - you have a fairly high level of clearance within the Agency, but even there the details are sparse. Rumors abound, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer, and is not to be trifled with.

You watch the man before you intently as he turns on his heels, meandering casually across the room, hands behind his back. Undoubtedly, his presence is intimidating; but admittedly he does not seem to be nearly the loathsome monster you’ve been led to believe he is. Regardless, you will not be letting your guard down. 

“My apologies for the poor treatment you have received thus far,” the man starts as he resumes his seat upon the large, ornate chair. A bowl of deep-purple grapes sits on the table beside him; he reclines again, reaching for the supple fruits. He plucks a particularly round grape from its stem, drawing it to his lips - he places it upon his tongue, holding it there momentarily before biting down, its juicy flesh bursting within his mouth. He chews, his eyes fixated upon you. He swallows before continuing.

“I had to ensure you were who I thought you were, and not some irrelevant member of the Agency.”

You grimace, displeased to learn that your suspicions were correct. He did know about the mission, and presumably the Agency’s agenda too. If that’s the case, then how much else does he know…

You’re itching to ask him who exactly he thinks you are, but you hold your tongue. You know better than to engage with the enemy unless absolutely necessary.

“But now that I am certain, I assure you you will receive nothing but the finest accommodations.” 

You say nothing. He eats another grape. You’ve been staring for far too long when you realize his plush lips seem to have you in a trance; you quickly return to glaring at him.

A few moments of silence pass. The intense eye contact he sustains stirs up a sensation within you - not fear, not worry, but rather… intrigue. You know the man is dangerous, yet here you are - simply captivated by him. You silently curse yourself for allowing emotion to infiltrate your mind like this. You’re smarter than this. Get your shit together.

“Refusing to speak, I see. Very well then. But aren’t you curious?” He leans forward, taunting you. “You know I hold the answers you seek, y/n.”

Your stomach drops. He just called you by your real name. Members of the Agency are exclusively referred to by their code names - even amongst colleagues, true identities remain concealed. How does he…

Your face remains stoic, indifferent, but he smirks. He can read you like an open book, and he knows you know it. 

“Go on, question me. You must see there is no threat here - I am unarmed. You may speak freely.”

You know that’s an absolute crock of bullshit. A cunning sorcerer is never truly unarmed - god knows what he could conjure up in the blink of an eye. But, admittedly he does have a point. You very well may die here - might as well get some fucking answers first. 

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask coldly.

A sly grin appears on his face. “Ah, she speaks! Good girl.” You scowl at him; he continues. “It’s simple, really - it was me who allowed the Agency to ‘discover’ the location of the palace. I made sure their little reconnaissance efforts would lead them to send their most skilled operative to retrieve the ring.”

“You wanted the ring to be stolen.”

“No. I wanted the ring to be stolen by you.”

You pause at his unexpected words. What?

Every neuron in your brain is screaming at you to be silent, don’t play into his little games. But you open your mouth anyway.

“And why me?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time, darling.”

Your stomach jolts. He said it so nonchalantly, as if he was telling you the weather rather than admitting he’s been watching your every move for god knows how long.

You stare at him incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He simply shakes his head. “Patience - you will learn the whole story in due time. Guards!”

A new pair of imperials, much more polished and intelligent-looking than their brutish counterparts you’ve dealt with thus far, enter the room. 

“Please escort my guest to her bedchamber for the night. I must retire.”

The guards steer you toward the hallway. You follow without resistance. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” the man calls as you step through the doorway. You glimpse back: he is seated in the same position, watching you intensely. You catch a curious look in his eye, one you can’t quite read. He disappears as the heavy door shuts behind you.

—

As promised, your new accommodations are satisfactory - lavish, even. You’ve never seen a room with so many ornate embellishments, nor a bed with so many cushions and fine coverings. The washroom was equally fanciful, offering a large tub and luxurious-looking towels. Enticing, certainly, but at this point you are exhausted, and simply want to sleep anywhere that isn’t a cold stone floor. You lay upon the bed, not even bothering to retreat under the covers. Within seconds, you drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in the same hallway again - this time, not running, but merely standing behind the cloaked figure. You extend your hand, grabbing his shoulder and turning him round. You raise your eyes, meeting his gaze - but where his eyes should be, you only found blackness. You stare into the void of his sockets, hypnotized in fear, their darkness seeming to infiltrate your soul. He draws a dagger from his cloak, shoving you into the wall and placing it against your throat. You feel its pressure, but it does not break skin. He draws his face into yours, tenderly placing his lips upon your cheekbone - right atop your freshly-scarring cut. He kisses you - slowly, fervidly, his lips burning against your skin, but instead of pain you feel only pleasure. His free hand wraps around the small of your back, pulling your torso into his, holding you tightly against his blisteringly-hot form. The dagger remains perilously at your throat, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. His lips parts from your cheek as he draws his head back, looking at you once again, the abysmal darkness of his stare penetrating through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips converging on yours. Your mouth reaches for his, wanting for his kiss, yearning for his taste- 

Your eyes open. There are no windows in your room, but you get the sense that it is morning, midday perhaps. Dazed, you try to wake yourself up, but your mind keeps drifting back to your dream - to the man who has somehow infiltrated your subconscious. You raise your hand to your face, running your fingertips over your wound, but…

Quickly, you sit up, tossing your feet to the floor and heading toward the washroom. You approach the mirror, peering your face in close to the glass. Where there should have been a fresh scar: nothing. Not a mark on your skin. 

You frown. You don’t know what this means, but you suspect nothing good will come of it. 

A knock comes from the door. You hear the turn of the lock, followed by the creaking of the door swinging open. A young female servant enters, carrying a bundle of fabrics. A second follows, placing a tea set on the small table.

“You are expected at supper today,” the first woman informs you curtly. She places the fabrics upon your bed. “Wash up and dress in fresh clothes.” The two leave swiftly without another word.

You let out a sigh of annoyance. So this is how it’s going to be then. Fine - I’ll play along with his little games. You glance back at the mirror. A tired face looks back at you, grimacing.

Not like I have much of a choice anyway.

⛧ chapter 2: coming soon ⛧