#fantasy royals

[staciass]

[haamuart]

Ok story time! A story how my OC Heidi came to be. Check it under the cut if you're interested, otherwise enjoy these sketches of a fantasy royal family.

Warnings: infidelity, infertility

So Mariam, as the queen, is married quickly so she can produce heirs. She choses Othos or Othos is chosen for her. The first picture is their wedding portrait.

When they're young, Otho has to go on longer trips sometimes because of his work. Sometimes, but not always, Mariam has to stay behind to take care of her duties. They do not get pregnant immediately after the wedding.

Mariam is a beautiful young queen, surrounded by a lot of people. Unlike some royals, however, she also gets time alone, and not there is not someone always following her. During her time alone, while missing Otho (and their bed), she meets a fairy soldier. He's been around before, so Mariam is not completely unfamiliar with him, but they've never talked. Somehow they have a chance. Maybe Mariam is sulking in a garden and the man is doing is rounds around the yard. Idk.

They get along really well. Mariam doesn't think anything of it to spend time with him, and as you already probably guesses, they end up in bed. Or on the grass in the garden. Or behind a convenient heavy curtain somewhere. You know.

Othos returns pretty soon and when Mariam turns out to be pregnant, it is a joy for everyone. Mariam stops thinking about the fairy soldier she had an affair with and throws herself into celebrating the coming of an heir to the throne of Rozavie.

Heidi is born. She is a pretty young girl child, with blonde hair and dark blue eyes like her parents. Nothing seems amiss.

Until Heidi grows a little, and starts showing magic. Magic she shouldn't have.

You see, both Mariam and Othos are wizards. Wizarding magic is very different to fairy magic. While wizards always need some sort of an object to channel their magic through, fairies need none of that. Fairy children especially are very carefree and easy with their magic.

It is very clear to everyone in the know that Heidi is most certainly not Othos' child. Both Mariam and Othos come from long lines, all of which have been marked down carefully. Wizardry is the highest valued magic in Rozavie, and practically everyone in their lines are wizards.

I have not thought this far yet but I think they will make up an affair somewhere up in Othos' line which would explain why Heidi is a fairy, so there is no scandal. However, that does not heal her parents relationship, and it turns chilly for years. They halfheartedly try for more children, but they do not conceive.

(The problem is Othos, unfortunately. I'm not sure if they ever find out, but there definitely are people who suspect.)

When Heidi is a teenager, Mariam and Othos finally make up. This time they throw each other more passionately into making children, in hopes of getting a boy child. While Heidi is and will be the legal heir, they are hoping to trade her with a boy. It is the latest fashion, after all. They do not believe Heidi would be a popular queen, or a strong one.

(They are wrong.)

[the-otherworldly-fashion-blog]

Elie Saab Spring 2023 Couture

Photo: Filippo Fior / Gorunway.com

[2h0rny2think]

Thinking about being a royal pet.

Collared but it's covered in jewels. Leashed but it's made of gold.

I eat the finest meals out of a bowl on the ground. I spend my days sitting in front of the throne, suckling the royal cock.

The only clothes I'm permitted to wear are sheer and lacy, doing nothing to cover me.

When my master wants to fuck me, I'm teased and fingered by his servants until I'm open and desperate. When he's done with me, they'll clean me up, bathing me and dressing me and fingering me again to make sure I'm in good health.

Over and over, day after day, til all thoughts of rescue or escape have drained out of my ears.

I might as well be a dog.

Then when my beauty has faded and I'm too loose to bring pleasure, I'm sent to the knights. Then the servants. Then the dogs and horses and cattle.

Nothing but a pet.

[escapismsworld]

Sintra, Portugal

[mostlyghostie]

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[cookinguptales]

I MEAN but wouldn't that be an incredible isekai series??

a modern princess whose job is basically just being a beautiful figurehead

grows bored with her vapid role in life and withdraws from society, riddled with ennui

only to fall into a fantasy realm where princesses have real political power

as well as important responsibilities that her subjects depend upon

and at first it's a comedy of errors as she realizes that none of her training prepared her for this

but then she grows as a person and applies herself to learning how to guide and guard this kingdom

and becomes the powerful and just princess she was always meant to be

...so I guess apparently my new favorite conspiracy theory is that kate's shoujo manga just underwent a MASSIVE genre switch.

[moodboard-d]

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to the Death of Monarchs

(no, unfortunately this is not a how to guide. Special Branch can now unhitch from outside my house)

To quote The Lion King... The Circle of Life. Monarchs are born, they live, they die. But what exactly happens when a monarch dies?

Dying

The monarch is on their deathbed. Their family, their friends, their advisers (their bit on the side sometimes) are lingering in the room or in the corridor. But of course, death isn't always expected. Usually, if the death is sudden, such as during a military campaign or an assassination, there is a scramble to preserve the news of the death for a time in order to make the necessary arrangements.

Causes of Death

"... Let us sit upon the ground. And tell sad stories of the death of kings; How some have been deposed; some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd," - William Shakespeare, Richard II.

Monarchs die like everybody else. They can die from anything. Disease (Alexander the Great), death at war (Richard I), assassination (Philip III of Macedonia), old age (Elizabeth II), starvation (Richard II), misuse of a hot poker (Edward II), murder at the hands of family (Edward V), childbirth (Jadwiga of Poland), accident (William of Orange... Pussy) , poison (Emperor Claudius) or on the toilet (George II). The death of a monarch is something at will be contested sometimes. If the body is not seen, there may be a belief that they live on. If the monarch dies suddenly, there may be rumours of foul play. No matter how a monarch dies, it will lead to uneasiness.

After Death

The steps after the monarch dies, usually include securing the next heir, proclaiming them to the people, and then working toward a clean succession. This time is delicate, it can be the breeding ground of coups and treacheries. Any claim other than the designated heir must be silenced by the proclaimation of the next sovereign as soon as possible. Child monarchs are extremely at risk during this period as the adults around them will seek to take custody of them. They who hold the monarch hold the power. It is imperative that the heir be notified at once so the stability of the kingdom can be assured.

The X is dead, Long Live the Next Guy

Once they breathe their last, all attention will turn to the next monarch or the scramble to find one. Be it by succession by blood or an election, the designated successor will immediately (even in the absence of a coronation) become the next monarch. Likely they will have been near their predecessor, either at their bedside or at least in shouting distance. But if they are away, they will quickly return to claim their throne. Without delay. Elizabeth II was actually on royal tour when she recieved news her father had died, leading to a hasty scramble back home.

When things don't go according to plan

The monarch passes away. There are tears. Sometimes. There are sometimes coups as I mentioned. Young would be monarchs could be kidnapped, eg. Edward V. Another heir claims the throne instead of the designated heir, eg Lady Jane Grey and King Stephen. Monarchs who die on battlefields can have their bodies stolen (James IV of Scotland) or thrown into a ditch with their crown snatched (Richard III). The death of a monarch is a delicate time and dangerous for all royal family members. In some instances, it would lead to murder. If a son of a previous Ottoman Sultan wished to be the next Sultan, they would order the mass murder of their brothers upon their father's death - usually death by strangulation.

Funeral

The funeral of the monarch is something that is usually planned from day one. There would be some sort of plan in place for the funeral, the when, the where and the how. The monarch might know these plans but the upper rank of courtier and aides would know. Funerals would follow a certain pattern, likely adapting from previous funerals. They would be a public, a lavish ceremony that would see to the closure of businesses, entertainment venues, the arrival of foreign dignitaries and a long procession of the body surrounded by military forces, watched over by the grieving public. If they actually liked the monarch. Some deaths of Kings were met without any sadness such as George IV. There might also be lavish games thrown in the monarch's honour.

Mourning

Mourning is the period of time that the country, the court and royal family grieves publicly. It can last a week or so, like today. Or up to a year. In China, sometimes mourning lasted 3 years or more. Mourning period often came with strict rules about what one could do or dress in. In Edwardian times, there were stages in mourning. Full mourning could last up to a year, with women wearing black with very little ornament and widows covering their hair with bonnets of veils. Second mourning (6-9 months), women's clothes could be adorned with trimming and finally half mourning is the 3-6 month period where colour started to be reintroduced, restricted at first to greys and mauves. There would be no balls, no parties, no sporting during the deepest part of mourning.

[rs-hawk]

Nobleman Minotaur

Part One

You started seeing Minotaur more around the palace. Your father invited him to sit in on his diplomatic meetings, resulting in him wandering the halls of your new home quite often. One day, after a very excruciating day of lessons on how to be a "proper Lady", you bumped into him. Literally.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," was your immediate response, even before you saw who it was. "Oh," you repeated, your face flushing. "Hello."

"Hello, Princess," he grunted. Something about the way that he said your title, a title that until now you hated, made your heart flutter.

"You don't have to call me that," you giggled, shyly looking away from him. "I should be calling you Prince Minotaur, really. You stepping aside to just a Duke is hardly fair to you."

There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment, causing you to look back at him. He looked so uncomfortable. You had no idea why, but it made guilt bubble up from your stomach. After another moment, he bowed, his horns nearly catching your dress with how close he was to you.

"My apologies for having to rush out so fast. It was lovely to see you, Princess."

With that, he's gone. Rushing past you to get out of the hallway. Your heart fell. The little crush you had on him felt so one sided that you thought he might never look at you again. Of course, that was completely wrong.

Poor Minotaur could hardly contain himself that close to you. His animal instincts were screaming at him to claim you. To make you his. All he wanted was to rip off your dress and breed your pretty, fat Princess cunt until your body gave out. He ran his hands over his face, tugging at his horns in annoyance. He had to get a hand on his self control.

This "self control" of his mainly resulted in him avoiding you at all costs. Yes, he was forced to interact with you a few times, but almost never alone. Your father kept trying to get you two to interact more, much to Minotaur's frustration. Couldn't the man understand that he was trying to respect him, and his kindness, by not mounting you every time he saw you?

By the time your official debut comes, a huge party thrown in your honor, his self control was hanging on by a thread. Seeing you all dolled up, your chubby tummy stuffed into a form fitting dress that showed off all your perfect curves, when you were announced was so mouth watering he had to excuse himself.

He hid in the day room that was right next to the ballroom, trying to catch his breath. There was no denying it though. He had to relieve himself or he'd never be able to get back to the party. The long chiton he wore would make it too obvious how hard his cock was if he didn't do something. Pulling the long sheet of silk to the side, he braced himself against the daybed. His large hand curled around his throbbing and aching cock, pumping himself slowly.

He moaned your name, quickening his pace until he came to the thought of you presenting yourself to him, begging him to breed you. After he cleaned up, he was able to rejoin the festivities. He even chatted with you, but still didn't want to get too close. When you asked him for a dance, he refused. You stuck your outer lip out slightly, looking dejected.

"It's my party, Minotaur," you said with such emotion that he sighed.

"Okay Princess. Come here," he parted his arms for you to come into.

As the two of you danced, you were oblivious to how hard his cock was. How close he was to dragging you to that day room. All you could think of was maybe he did like you too, and you wondered if your father would approve if you told him how much you liked Minotaur.

[gardenofafterthoughts]

05/05/24

"You’re a defiant act

of creation. You’re a whole

solar system pretending to be

a person."

- Elisabeth Hewer; Wishing For Birds, "World Inside Expanding"

[staciass]

[pillowprince-playroom]

A lot of royalty kink hinges on a sub royal and/or dombreaking a royal. But anyway, the royal ends up being taken down a peg.

And don't get me wrong, I LOVE that. But consider:

I am your prince and you answer only to me. When I say suck, you suck. When i say bend over, the only acceptable question is pants on or off

I am sitting on the throne. You are lucky to be allowed to rut against my boots like a stupid dog. They are fine leather. Better clean up your mess, pup. Touch anything besides my boots and I'm kicking you out

I call the shots in bed. It's my bed after all. If I want a nice wet hole to sink into, you'll just have to sit and take it. I don't care that you usually top. I can't be bothered to have my ass sore. I want something to stick my cock into. Either obey your prince and get fucked or spend the rest of your days in a cell. You decide

The only one getting fucked against a tree on the hunting trip is you. My loyal little blood hound, my perfect knight. Getting dirty and roughed up is beneath me so you better spread your cape under my feet and lean against the tree so I can stand on fine fabric and just rut into you without having to hold you up. You're a fun little distraction out here

[jolivers-wonder]

ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ

[angel-sweets666]

Stuck together

Barbarian prince! bakugo katsuki x princess! Reader(fem)

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff. Btw if I do make this a series(this is a sneak peak) it’ll be a slow burn

full version here

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me.”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, feigned illness, and concocted elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were resolute, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes downcast. "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk from

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away.

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and peircing

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors.

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way," he said, the blonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids

oh you are so done with his bullshit

[leirastar]

new world | chapter 6

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 2.2k | 10 minutes A/n: SOOO...a TMI! I am actually a pretty chill person. but when it comes to work and writing i need at least 5 chapter planned before uploading a chapter. That is why i currently have about chapter 11 drafted already. Also this is quite amusing but I LIKE WORKING. It gives me a sense of purpose hihi, sometimes its stressful but it gives me joy. Anyways, i hope you enjoy this! Warning: JUST YUNHO AND MC BEING CUTE BYE.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like the last rays of the sun clinging to the earth. The sincerity in his tone left no room for teasing or denial—just the quiet truth of what he’d said.

He looked ahead again, his expression gentler than before, as if he was choosing every word carefully.

“I just… hope you’ll always come back to me.”

The words were quiet but unwavering, heavy with an honesty that made your chest tighten. Yunho wasn’t a man prone to insecurity or doubt. It wasn’t possessiveness in his voice—there was only sincerity, a calm and unshakable certainty that you had come to associate with him.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight. “Where else would I go?”

“You could go anywhere,” Yunho replied softly, his gaze flickering toward you once more. “You could leave the outskirts for Caius’s capital, where they’d call you a healer fit for kings. Or maybe even Reed, where your name would carry across the mountains.” He paused then, his voice dropping lower. “And yet, here you are.”

Your lips parted, but for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Yunho had a way of saying things—of weaving meaning into the quiet spaces between sentences—that left you feeling caught in something deeper than you had realized.

“I like it here,” you said softly, finally. “The quiet. The fields. I don’t need more than that.”

His gaze lingered on you, soft and unspoken thoughts swirling in the gold of his eyes. “Good,” he murmured, his voice a touch quieter. “Because I’ll keep coming back, as long as you’ll have me.”

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding escaped, something warm curling in your chest. “And where else would you go, Yunho?”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

The wind picked up, carrying a chill, but you hardly noticed. The rest of the ride passed in silence, but this time, it wasn’t heavy—it was warm, lingering like the last rays of sunlight stretching across the hills. Every time Yunho’s gaze flickered toward you, lingering just a moment too long, your heart stumbled over itself, and the world felt quieter—easier—because he was there. When you finally spoke, your voice was softer than before. “You don’t need to worry about them.” Yunho exhaled quietly, as though those words had loosened some invisible knot within him. “Good”

The rest of the ride unfolded in silence, but it was a different kind of quiet now—warm, lingering, and filled with all the things neither of you had said. The golden light softened as the sun melted into the horizon, casting long shadows across the hills, and you couldn’t help but feel that Yunho’s words, too, would linger well after the light had faded.

Yunho suddenly pulled his horse to a stop, the movement so abrupt it startled you. You turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning its slow descent. “Let’s enjoy the sunset together,” he said softly, his voice carrying an almost wistful note. His gaze flicked to the saddlebag. “I have blankets—and a some bread the hospital gave us.”

You blinked in surprise, but a smile crept onto your face before you could stop it. “You planned this?”

“Not entirely.” He shrugged, dismounting with ease before turning to help you down. “I’m just good at making use of what’s given to me.”

The teasing tone in his voice brought a laugh to your lips, and you allowed him to lift you gently off your horse. Together, you walked a short distance to a familiar hilltop where the world seemed to open up before you.

The sky was painted in hues of gold, violet, and deepening blue, the light spilling like liquid fire across the valley below. It was beautiful, the kind of quiet that settled deep into your bones, where even the soft rustling of the wind felt reverent.

Yunho laid out the blanket as you unpacked the bread and a small cloth-wrapped bundle of fruit. The hospital nurses had been generous, as if they’d known you’d need this moment.

You sat down beside Yunho, the edges of the blanket soft beneath your fingers as the cool evening air brushed against your cheeks. He sat close, one knee bent, his long frame relaxed though his expression remained contemplative. The silence stretched comfortably between you until he broke it, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, the words quiet but certain.

You turned to him, brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For not coming as often.” Yunho’s gaze remained on the horizon, where the last edge of the sun kissed the earth. “Things in Hala are… complicated. Someone is stirring trouble.”

Your smile faded. “And you’re involved in it?”

He exhaled quietly, his shoulders shifting. “I’m trying not to be,” he said. “But it’s hard to avoid.”

you had to ask him.

You turned toward him then, your voice soft but deliberate. “Would you answer me the truth, my lord?”

Yunho’s gaze flickered to you, his brows lifting faintly at the sudden question. “What is it you wish to know?”

You hesitated, watching him closely. “I couldn’t help but pry after your injury…” You exhaled carefully, choosing your words. “Are you really just a messenger, Yunho?”

At that, his face shifted, his expression turning carefully stoic—too still, too composed. “Yes,” he said simply, his voice steady, though the edge of it sounded practiced.

But you weren’t convinced.

“You’re certain?” you pressed, narrowing your eyes slightly. “Because if you were just a mere messenger, my lord…” You paused, holding his gaze. “Dare I ask why you would be struck by a Goretherion bloom?”

For the faintest moment, something flickered across Yunho’s features—an emotion too quick to catch before it disappeared behind his mask of calm. He looked ahead then, his jaw tight.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly, though there was tension in the words. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Difficult?” you repeated, leaning toward him slightly. “You speak in riddles, my lord.”

Yunho’s gaze snapped back to you, sharp yet softened by the way the gold in his eyes seemed to melt under the twilight. For a beat, he said nothing. Then, with a slowness that made your heart stutter, his hand came to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. The all familiar sparks seem to sweep through your skin like ice.

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, as if trying to anchor the moment between you. “I’ll keep you safe. You have my word.”

The weight of his touch, the quiet resolve in his voice—it stilled you completely. You stared at him, searching his expression, but Yunho’s gaze held yours without wavering. There was something unshakable about him in that moment, something that felt like both a shield and a promise.

“But Yunho…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Trust me,” he said softly, cutting you off before you could question further. His hand lingered on your cheek a moment longer, warm and sure, before he let it fall back to his side.

You exhaled slowly, the air heavy between you, full of things unsaid and unanswered. The Goretherion bloom—the trouble in Hala—none of it made sense, and yet, when Yunho looked at you like that, it was impossible not to believe him.

You murmured at last, your voice just above a whisper.

“I trust you.”

Yunho nodded as he teared his gaze from you. He turned to you then, his expression softening. Reaching into his muted gray cloak, he withdrew a small, velvet-wrapped box.

“What’s this?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

Yunho’s expression remained unreadable as he said simply, “Take it.”

The weight of his words made you pause before you carefully reached out, fingers brushing against the fine box. The bundle was small, its weight firm but reassuring, and when you pulled back the edges, the world seemed to slow.

Resting inside was an ornate pendant—elegant and intricate. Its delicate gold framework curved in swirling, nature-inspired motifs, adorned with clusters of sparkling diamonds that caught the light like scattered stardust. Suspended at the center of the design sat a striking blue sapphire, deep and mesmerizing, its facets gleaming like the heart of a midnight sea. Below, a teardrop-shaped sapphire hung gracefully, encased in a halo of smaller diamonds, its rich indigo hue streaked with faint glimmers of lighter blue, as though it held the reflection of a tranquil night sky.

Your breath caught, the beauty of it leaving you momentarily speechless. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the stone.

But even as you admired it, something stirred in the back of your mind—a quiet, undeniable realization. You knew what this meant. In Reed, courtships were steeped in tradition, subtle but significant gestures woven into every action. Gifting family jewels was one of the most profound gestures of all, especially when the jewels were as rare as this. A pendant like this, one polished to perfection and set with a stone this flawless, was not something given lightly.

You glanced up at Yunho, the weight of the pendant suddenly far heavier in your palm. “This looks…” You paused, searching for the right word.

Personal.

Yunho tilted his head slightly, watching you with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It caught my eye in the capital.”

A beat of silence. You heard the lie in his voice as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud—the softness of his tone, the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long.

Carefully, you reached out, taking the pendant fully into your hands. It was cool to the touch, the weight of it pressing gently against your skin, but its significance—what it represented—settled even deeper.

You looked up at him, your voice quiet but certain. “You’re lying.”

Yunho’s brows lifted in faint surprise, but the teasing smirk you had come to know so well returned, soft and unreadable. “Lying?”

“Yes.” You turned the pendant carefully, letting the fading light catch on its surface. “This isn’t just something you found in the capital.”

Yunho’s smirk faded slightly, though his pride held steady in the stubborn line of his jaw. He looked at the pendant, then back at you, his voice quieter this time. “It belonged to my mother.”

Your fingers stilled against the stone, your chest tightening as the words registered. “Your mother?”

Yunho nodded, his expression calm but his eyes betraying something deeper—something unspoken. “It was hers. She kept it close. And now I want you to have it.”

You stared at him, stunned, the air between you suddenly too heavy with meaning. You knew what this pendant symbolized. It wasn’t just a trinket or a gesture—it was a promise, a silent question that waited patiently for an answer.

“I can’t accept this,” you said softly, though your voice wavered with uncertainty.

“You can, please” Yunho countered firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

He stepped closer then, the space between you shrinking, his presence both grounding and overwhelming. Yunho held the pendant between his fingers, his touch brushing against yours as he took it, lingering just long enough to send heat curling through you.

“May I?” His voice was low, a quiet murmur that hung in the air, reverent and steady.

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest. “Yes,” you breathed, the word slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Yunho moved behind you, each step deliberate, as though afraid the moment might break. You sat perfectly still, breath caught in your chest, your entire body attuned to the faint rustle of his cloak and the warmth radiating off him.

Gently, his hands swept your hair to the side, calloused fingertips brushing against the bare skin at the nape of your neck. The touch was fleeting—innocent, almost—but it was enough to make you shiver. And then you felt it: his breath.

Warm and soft, it ghosted across your skin as he lingered, clasping the chain with steady hands. It sent a ripple of shivers coursing through you, pooling at the base of your spine as your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt.

Yunho was quiet, focused, but the closeness—the deliberate slowness of his movements—was impossibly intimate. The pendant’s chain was cool where it brushed against your collarbone, a contrast to the heat rising up your neck and settling in your cheeks.

You inhaled shakily, the sound embarrassingly loud in the silence, just as his knuckles grazed your neck again—soft and unintentional, yet devastating all the same.

The click of the clasp finally broke the stillness, but Yunho lingered for a moment longer, his breath still there, stirring goosebumps across your skin. When he pulled back, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Yunho returned to his seat, his golden-brown gaze lingering on you as the pendant settled against your chest. His voice was low, the words soft but steady.

“It suits you.”

Your fingers brushed against the pendant again, the smooth surface cool against your skin. But before you could respond, Yunho's voice broke through the quiet once more, softer this time, as though he were speaking a truth he’d kept hidden.

“With this,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering,

“I’ll always come back. No matter where I am, no matter what happens… I will find my way back to you. And I will always protect you.”

Masterlist

five | seven

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