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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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cantarella — gojo satoru.

“Satoru.” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun. He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive. You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Nobility;

WARNING/s: Angst, Not Safe For Work (NSFW), Dark Fic, Yandere! Gojo, Toxic One-Sided Romance, One-Sided Incest, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Incest, Hurt/ No Comfort, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Please Save Reader;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was inspired by this version of cantarella by kaito and miku i watched a long long time ago. i remembered about this notes i had about it while sitting and studying for uni. and i wrote it sitting down instead of reading more because inspiration came to me. i hope you enjoy it, even though its a dark fic!!! i love you all <3

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YOU WERE FREE, YOU THINK. As the heavy iron gates of the convent swung open, the world outside flooded your senses, a stark contrast to the cloistered life you’d led for years.

The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers replaced the cold, sterile air of the convent, while the distant hum of life—a world you had been shielded from—pressed in on you. Your eyes blinked against the sudden brightness, the light almost painful after so many years of darkness.

The distant memories of your parents’ tragic deaths haunted you, lingering like a dark cloud over your soul. Their faces were blurred now, softened by time but not forgotten.

The whispers of their absence were loudest in your heart, a constant reminder of the life that had been ripped away from you. Grief had been your only companion, even more than the nuns who had raised you, and now it threatened to drown you as you took your first steps into the world beyond those gates.

Now, as the newly orphaned Duchess, the title weighed heavily on your shoulders, burdened with expectations you weren’t sure you could fulfill. The responsibilities that came with it loomed over you, a shadow of the future that awaited. You had been a child when the world had last known you, but now, the world demanded more—a woman, a Duchess, a leader.

You stepped out into the open, the gravel crunching beneath your feet as the cold wind whispered through the barren trees. The carriage waited in silence, an imposing reminder of the life you were about to inherit—a life you had never asked for. The estate loomed in the distance, its shadowy silhouette framed against a darkening sky.

It was supposed to be home, a sanctuary, yet it felt nothing like it. The sprawling lands, the echoing halls, and the faceless people who would serve you—they were yours now, or so everyone insisted. But as you stood there, shivering in the twilight, you couldn't help but wonder what "yours" truly meant.

Was it the title bestowed upon you, heavy and hollow, that now defined your existence? Or was it the legacy that clung to your name, a legacy built on the sacrifices and sorrows of those who came before?

Perhaps it was the past, a mosaic of memories and losses that had shaped you, leaving cracks in your heart that would never fully heal. And now, as you faced the uncertain road ahead, you realized that your future, too, was bound by these invisible chains. A future where each step would be weighed down by duty, expectation, and the inescapable fear of the unknown.

But despite the fear gnawing at your resolve, despite the weight of the unknown pressing down on your shoulders, you knew there was no turning back. The world outside the convent walls, a world you had once seen only in fleeting dreams, had now become your reality.

A reality where your choices—or lack thereof—would define not just your life, but the lives of those who depended on you. And so, with a heart heavy with dread and determination, you took a deep breath and stepped forward. Ready or not, you had to face it.

The carriage stood before you like a silent sentinel, its dark velvet interior offering little in the way of comfort. The family crest, meticulously embossed on its side, glinted ominously in the fading light, a stark reminder of the bloodline that bound you to this life.

As you approached, the driver, a man of few words and fewer expressions, gave a brief nod, his face as unreadable as the future that awaited you. There was no comfort to be found in his gaze, only the cold efficiency of someone accustomed to serving the powerful.

Climbing into the carriage, you felt the chill of the autumn air seep into your bones, mingling with the dread that clung to your skin. The unfamiliar path ahead stretched out before you, winding through forests and fields that you barely remembered.

Every jolt of the carriage wheels against the rough terrain seemed to echo the uncertainty within you, the sense of being unmoored from everything you once knew. Yet, despite the fear that tightened your chest, a quiet resolve began to build within you. The path was dark, and the journey would be long, but it was yours to take.

As the carriage began to move, you allowed yourself one last glance at the world you were leaving behind. The convent, with its high walls and serene silence, had been a place of refuge, but it was also a cage—one that you had outgrown. The life ahead, with all its unknowns, was daunting, but it was also a chance to carve out a new destiny, one that was truly your own.

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YOU WERE FINALLY HERE. Days had passed before the carriage finally came to a halt. The endless journey had given you time to think, to imagine what awaited you, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality.

The estate loomed large and imposing before you, a testament to the power and wealth that now rested on your shoulders. But it was not the grandeur of the estate that caught your attention as you stepped down from the carriage—it was the man who stood waiting.

Gojo Satoru. Your cousin. The only family you had left.

You had heard of him in whispers and letters, the distant cousin who had managed your affairs while you grew up behind convent walls. The cousin who had wanted to raise you himself but had been overruled by those who deemed it more proper for a young duchess to be sheltered and shaped by the church. A cousin who had become a stranger over the years.

But now, standing before him, you saw just how much he had changed. He had grown handsome, undeniably so. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was commanding, his silver hair catching the last rays of the setting sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

The dark glasses he wore only added to the air of mystery, concealing his eyes and leaving you to wonder what lay behind them. His lips curled into a smile that was anything but comforting. It was a smile that promised more than a simple welcome; it promised possession.

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was as if the world bent to his will. But now, as a woman, you saw the darkness in his gaze, the twisted hunger that had taken root in his heart over the years.

"Cousin." he murmured, his voice smooth and sickly sweet, as if every word was coated in honey, "it’s been too long."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself in his overwhelming presence. "It has, Satoru. I... hardly recognized you."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth that made your heart skip a beat. "And I, you. But then, how could I recognize someone I’ve only known through letters and rumors? Yet here you are, in the flesh, finally free from those cold walls."

There was something in his tone that made you uneasy, a sharp edge beneath the politeness. "Yes, finally," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "Thank you for... taking care of everything while I was away. It must have been a burden."

"Burden?" He chuckled softly, the sound rich and unsettling. "Not at all, my dear. It was a pleasure, truly. I did what any family would do—protect what is ours, and ensure it would be ready for your return.”

“Then…Then, I thank you, cousin.”

Though…." he paused, his gaze lingering on you, "I must admit, I didn’t expect you to have grown into such a… lovely woman."

The way he said it made your skin prickle. There was no mistaking the intent in his words, the way his eyes, hidden though they were, seemed to strip you bare. You took a small step back, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"I suppose we’ve both changed," you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible. "But we’re still family, Satoru. I hope we can... get to know each other again."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. "Family is everything, after all. And now that you’re here, we can finally be together, as we were always meant to be."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. There was something more in his words, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous desire. You forced a smile, hoping to mask your unease. "Yes, together. It’s been so long, after all."

He stepped closer, closing the small distance you had created. "Too long, cousin. But now that you’re back, I intend to make up for all the lost time. You and I… we have so much to catch up on."

The finality in his tone left little room for argument, and as he offered his arm to lead you inside, you had no choice but to take it, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sleeve. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he guided you through the grand doors of the estate that would now be your home.

But as you crossed the threshold, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more dangerous than you had ever imagined. And that the cousin who walked beside you was not just your protector, but something far darker, something you were not sure you could escape.

The estate he led you to was vast, cold, and eerily silent. Each step echoed through the corridors, the sound bouncing off the stone walls that seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. It was a place meant to impress, to awe with its sheer size and grandeur, but all it inspired in you was a deep sense of unease. The shadows seemed longer here, the light dimmer, as if the house itself had secrets it was unwilling to reveal.

Gojo’s hand hovered just above your lower back, never quite touching, but close enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. It was a silent assertion of control, a reminder that he was guiding you, that you were under his protection—or perhaps his possession. The gesture felt more like a threat than a comfort, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

As you walked, you noticed the servants—silent, spectral figures who moved quickly to avoid your gaze. Their eyes darted away whenever they saw the two of you, averted as if they knew something you did not, as if they feared something you were only beginning to sense. They kept their distance, and when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, their whispers carried away by the drafty corridors, lost in the vastness of the estate.

The grand halls, adorned with portraits of ancestors long gone, felt more like a mausoleum than a home. The faces in the paintings seemed to watch you with disapproval, their cold eyes following your every move, judging you, questioning your right to be here.

The air was thick with history, but it was a history that felt oppressive, as though the very stones of the house were weighed down by the sins and secrets of those who had lived here before.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, low and almost conspiratorial. “It’s been a long time since these halls have seen life,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken. “I’m afraid the estate has grown as cold as its master in your absence.”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a second skin. “It’s... it’s very grand,” you replied, struggling to find the right words. “I suppose it will take some getting used to.”

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of real warmth. “Grand, yes. But it is a lonely place, cousin. One grows accustomed to the silence, to the emptiness, but I’ve always thought it would be different with you here.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl. There was something too intimate in his words, something that suggested his desire for you went far beyond familial affection. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable behind those dark glasses, his lips curled into that same unsettling smile.

“You’ve taken such good care of everything,” you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I’m grateful, truly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

His smile widened, but there was no joy in it, only something dark and possessive. “There’s no need for repayment,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a more dangerous register. “You’re here now, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’re family, after all.”

Family. The word echoed in your mind, but it felt hollow, like a cage closing in around you. The estate, the title, the wealth—it was all yours, but at what cost? And as Gojo led you deeper into the heart of the mansion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being led into something far darker, something that would be much harder to escape.

At last, you reached what appeared to be a sitting room, the heavy doors creaking as Gojo pushed them open. The room was dimly lit, a fire crackling weakly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The furniture was old but well-kept, the upholstery dark and rich, but it did little to warm the cold atmosphere of the room.

“This will be your sanctuary,” Gojo said, guiding you inside. “A place to rest, to think, to remember that this is your home now.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. As you looked around, the reality of your situation began to sink in. This was your home, your life now. But the estate that should have been a sanctuary felt more like a prison, and the man who should have been your protector felt more like a captor.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, cousin.” Gojo said, finally stepping back, though his presence lingered in the room long after he had left. “But don’t be a stranger, cousin. We have much to discuss, and I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

As the door closed behind him, the silence of the room enveloped you, cold and suffocating. You were alone now, but the shadow of Gojo’s presence lingered, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

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YOU WERE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Or at least that’s what Satoru had said when he told you that society celebrated your return with much joy. A ball was to take place in your honor, a grand affair meant to celebrate your return to the echelons of noble society.

The thought of it filled you with a mix of excitement and dread. After years of isolation, the idea of stepping into a room filled with the most powerful and influential members of the ton was daunting. You could already hear the whispers, feel the weight of their expectations.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, a stranger dressed in silks and jewels. The gown you wore was exquisite, a deep sapphire that brought out the color of your eyes, the neckline adorned with pearls that once belonged to your mother. But despite the finery, you couldn’t help but feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t since leaving the convent.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and before you could respond, Satoru entered the room. He moved with an easy grace, his presence commanding and almost overwhelming. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame, he was every bit the image of a duke, a man who could have anything and anyone he desired.

His eyes, hidden behind those dark glasses, seemed to pierce through you as he approached. “Nervous, cousin?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced. But you could not help it, to be this nervous. To feel like you were going to vomit and find yourself in fright. This was your social debut, after being far away from your kind for so long.

“A little.” you admitted, your hands twisting together in your lap. “I haven’t been to a ball since I was a child. I don’t even know how to behave anymore.”

Satoru’s smile was gentle, but there was that ever-present edge to it, a darkness that lingered just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, taking one of your hands in his. His touch was warm, firm, and it steadied you, even as your heart raced beneath your chest.

“Don’t be.” he murmured, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, the gesture both tender and possessive. “None can rival your beauty, or your existence. You will be the brightest star in the room tonight, and they will all fall at your feet.”

The way he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. His words were meant to reassure you, but there was something almost predatory in them, as if he was not merely presenting you to society, but staking his claim on you before them all.

“I just… I want to make a good impression.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a duchess of the realm. I must do well. For our family."

“You will, cousin. Do not worry much.” Satoru replied, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “But remember, you have nothing to prove to them. You are the Duchess, the true heir to this estate. They should be the ones worrying about impressing you.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was confidence, a certainty that made you feel both comforted and trapped. There was no escaping the life you had returned to, and Satoru was a constant reminder of that.

“I’m here, by your side,” he continued, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “No one will dare speak ill of you. Not with me watching over you.”

His words wrapped around you like a protective veil, and despite the unease that still lingered, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this night wouldn’t be as terrifying as you feared. Perhaps, with Satoru by your side, you could navigate the treacherous waters of noble society.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers curling slightly around his as you let yourself lean into his presence, if only for a moment.

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, his smile growing wider, more possessive. “Tonight is just the beginning. And I’ll make sure they all know that you belong to me.”

With that, he offered you his arm, guiding you out of the room and toward the grand hall where the ball was to take place. The music had already started, the sound of violins and piano filling the air with an elegant melody.

As you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to you, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the scrutiny, the admiration. But Satoru’s hand on yours was a constant anchor, a reminder that no matter what, you were not alone.

And as the night unfolded, with dance after dance, with whispered conversations and stolen glances, you realized that Satoru’s words had not been an empty promise. You were indeed the brightest star in the room, and every person who approached you did so with a mix of awe and reverence. But beneath it all, you could feel the shadow of Satoru’s presence, always there, always watching.

And though you smiled and played your part, there was a part of you that wondered just how deep that shadow, and how much of yourself you would lose to the man who claimed to protect you.

As the evening progressed and the ballroom filled with the sounds of laughter and music, the time for dancing arrived. You had been introduced to countless faces, each more eager than the last to make a connection with the newly returned Duchess. But all the introductions and small talk had left you feeling exhausted, your nerves frayed by the constant attention.

Then, as if sensing your unease, a man approached you. He was tall, with a calm demeanor that immediately set him apart from the others. His hair was blond, neatly combed, and his sharp features were softened by the warm, sincere expression on his face. He bowed gracefully before you, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice steady and kind, "may I have the honor of this dance?"

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. There was something about him—something genuine, something safe—that made you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t all night.

"Of course," you replied, allowing him to lead you to the center of the dance floor.

The music swelled as the two of you began to dance, moving in perfect harmony with the waltz. Unlike the others who had tried to impress you with their skills or status, this man—Count Nanami Kento, as you had been told—was different.

He was careful with you, his touch gentle as he guided you through the steps. His eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not the hunger or ambition you had grown accustomed to, but something else entirely—kindness, understanding, and a quiet admiration that made your heart flutter.

With each turn, each graceful movement across the polished floor, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. The laughter and chatter of the ballroom, once so overwhelming, now faded into a distant hum, a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Nanami.

The lights softened, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of dancers, yet all you could focus on was the man guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. His touch was gentle yet firm, his presence steady, grounding you in the here and now.

As you glided together, Nanami spoke in a voice so soft it felt like a secret shared between the two of you. He asked about your life, your thoughts, your dreams—questions that were simple, yet carried a depth that surprised you.

His gaze never wavered, and the way he listened made you feel as if every word you spoke was of utmost importance. There was no rush, no need to impress; just a quiet, sincere interest that drew you in.

Nanami was a world apart from the overwhelming force of Satoru, who often swept into your life like a whirlwind, leaving you breathless and off-kilter. Satoru’s presence was impossible to ignore, a vibrant, chaotic energy that demanded attention.

But here, with Nanami, everything was different. His calmness soothed the edges of your anxiety, his steady demeanor a balm to the storm that often raged within you. There was a reliability to him, a sense of safety that you hadn’t realized you craved until this very moment.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the contrast to Satoru’s intensity, though that was part of it. There was something about Nanami’s quiet strength, his thoughtful nature, that spoke to a deeper part of you.

As you danced, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared understanding and unspoken connection. It was unexpected, this pull you felt toward him, yet it was undeniable.

Your graceful dance continued and little by little, you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm, in the soft cadence of his voice, in the comforting warmth of his presence. The worries that had plagued you moments before melted away, replaced by a sense of peace that was rare and precious.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as though time had slowed, and all that mattered was the steady beat of your hearts moving in sync, the unspoken promise of something more that lingered in the air between you.

As the dance came to an end, he held you a moment longer than necessary, his hand lingering on yours. His eyes, warm and sincere, held yours, and you felt a rush of something you hadn’t felt in years—something like hope, like the promise of something good. When he finally released you, he bowed again, his voice low and sincere.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said softly. "It was truly a pleasure."

The words were simple, but the sincerity in them made your heart swell. You offered him a genuine smile, the first you had felt all night. "The pleasure was mine, Count Nanami."

As he stepped back into the crowd, you found yourself watching him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected connection. There was a warmth in your chest, a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt since you’d arrived at the estate. By the end of the night, you couldn’t deny it—you had fallen for him, the quiet, steady count who had treated you with such care.

But then, as you turned your gaze away from where Nanami had disappeared into the crowd, your eyes were drawn to a figure standing in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. Satoru. His dark glasses glinted in the low light, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, piercing through the distance between you. His expression was unreadable, his lips curved into a faint smile that sent a chill down your spine.

You knew that he had seen everything—the way you had smiled at Nanami, the way your guard had dropped in his presence. Satoru’s eyes bore into you, and the warmth that had filled you moments before was replaced by a cold dread.

No matter how much comfort you found in Nanami’s gaze, you couldn’t escape the shadow that Satoru cast over your life. And as the night drew to a close, you realized with a sinking heart that the feelings you had developed tonight would not go unnoticed or unchallenged.

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IT WAS OBVIOUS, THAT YOU WERE SMITTEN. In the weeks following the ball, the once overwhelming silence of the estate became bearable, softened by the anticipation of receiving each new letter from Count Nanami Kento.

The grand halls, with their cold marble floors and towering ceilings, no longer felt as lonely when you held his carefully penned words in your hands. His letters arrived with a sense of regularity, as if he knew precisely when you needed them most, each one a lifeline connecting you to something warmer, more genuine.

As you unfolded the delicate parchment, the world outside your window seemed to fade away. His handwriting, neat and precise, reflected the man himself—thoughtful, deliberate, with each word chosen with care.

His letters were not just a form of polite correspondence; they were conversations, deep and meaningful, where his interest in your life and well-being shone through. He asked about the small details, the little things that most overlooked, making you feel seen in a way you had not experienced before.

Nanami’s words were a balm to your troubled heart, each sentence carrying a sense of calm and reassurance that eased the tension that often gripped you in the estate’s oppressive atmosphere.

His kindness wasn’t ostentatious or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like a gentle stream that slowly erodes the hardest stone. Through his letters, he offered you a refuge, a place where you could express your thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or dismissal.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself eagerly awaiting each new letter, cherishing the moments when you could escape into the world he created with his words. His thoughts and feelings were laid bare, revealing a depth of emotion and understanding that resonated with you on a level you hadn’t expected. In a place where everything felt rigid and predetermined, his letters brought warmth and a sense of possibility, reminding you that there was more to life than the cold formality that surrounded you.

In his words, you felt understood and valued in a way that was rare and precious. The letters became a bridge between your two worlds, drawing you closer to him with each exchange. What had started as a simple correspondence had grown into something more, something that brought light into the darkest corners of your life.

And as you carefully folded each letter and tucked it away, you couldn’t help but feel that this connection with Nanami was something special, something that had the power to change everything.

However, not everyone was pleased with this growing connection. One evening, as you sat in the dimly lit parlor, absorbed in the latest letter from Nanami, the quiet solitude was suddenly disrupted by the sound of footsteps.

You looked up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room with a tension that hadn’t been there moments before. His usual carefree demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, his expression was stern, his blue eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place.

Satoru had been quieter than usual lately, his playful banter and easy smiles replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. The change in his demeanor was subtle at first, but now, as he stood before you, the weight of it was undeniable.

His normally relaxed posture was rigid, his shoulders squared as if he were bracing himself for a confrontation. The way his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the letter in your hands sent a chill down your spine, making your stomach tighten with unease.

He didn’t say anything at first, but the silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken words. You could feel his gaze, intense and searching, as if he were trying to unravel the connection you had been so carefully building with Nanami through your letters. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the warmth of Nanami’s words in your mind now clashing with the coldness radiating from Satoru.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve been spending a lot of time writing letters.” he remarked, his tone betraying the undercurrent of disapproval he was trying to mask. The implication was clear, though he didn’t directly mention Nanami’s name.

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you, but it was tempered by the confusion and hurt that came with seeing Satoru like this. The man who had always been a whirlwind of energy and confidence now stood before you, guarded and almost vulnerable in his own way. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air, a silent battle of wills as you both struggled with what was left unsaid.

Satoru’s gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that room, locked in a standoff where neither wanted to be the first to back down. The letter in your hands, once a source of comfort, now felt like a weight, a reminder of the widening chasm between you and the man who had always been a constant in your life.

“And I have heard from whispers, dearest cousin. You’ve been spending a lot of time with count Nanami.” Satoru remarked, his voice edged with an irritation that was difficult to ignore. “I see he’s become quite the confidant.”

You looked up from the letter, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. “He’s been kind to me, Satoru. He’s welcomed me back into the ton with kindness.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’ve exchanged letters, but it’s just a way to stay connected, to find some comfort in this unfamiliar world.”

Satoru’s smile was thin and cold. “You’re aware, I’m sure, that count Nanami’s intentions aren’t as noble as they seem. He’s a man of ambition, just as any man is and you’re merely a means for him to elevate his own status. He’s using you, and yet you seem to take his words to heart.”

The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “That’s not fair, Satoru. Count Nanami has always been genuine with me. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind. I don’t believe he’s using me for his own gain.”

Satoru’s expression hardened, his gaze growing colder. “You’re naïve if you think he has no ulterior motives. He may seem kind now, but he’s a count—an ambitious one at that. He sees an opportunity in you, and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to exploit it.”

“I don’t think you understand him at all.” you said, your voice rising with frustration. “Nanami is not like that. He cares about me, and I care about him. Why can’t you accept that?”

Satoru’s eyes flashed with anger, the dark glasses doing little to mask his irritation. “Careful, cousin. It’s one thing to indulge in a fleeting fancy, but it’s another to be so blinded by it that you risk your own position and safety. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you demanded, rising from your seat. “From finding someone who treats me with respect and kindness? Nanami is not a threat—he’s a friend, someone who has shown me a different side of life.”

Satoru stepped closer, his demeanor imposing. “A friend who will inevitably use you to further his own ambitions. I’ve seen this game before, and it’s not one you want to be a part of. If you can’t see that, then I’ll have to make you understand.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the walls closing in as Satoru’s anger boiled over. His words were like daggers, each one aimed at driving a wedge between you and Nanami. But despite the fear and the rising sense of dread, you stood firm.

“I won’t let you dictate who I can and cannot befriend,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “Nanami is more than his title, and if you can’t see that, then perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand what’s truly important.”

Satoru’s face darkened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. The air was heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of conflicting loyalties and emotions. Finally, he turned on his heel, his frustration evident in his stride.

“Do as you wish, cousin.” he said coldly. “But remember, I warned you. And if you find yourself disappointed, don’t come seeking my sympathy.”

With that, he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood there, heart racing, the echoes of his harsh words still ringing in your ears. The letter from Nanami lay on the table, a reminder of the solace and understanding you had found in him. Despite Satoru’s anger and warnings, you knew that you couldn’t turn away from the connection you had begun to cherish.

The world outside the estate might be filled with ambition and deceit, but in Nanami’s letters, you had found a glimpse of something real—something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.

A few weeks later, as the seasons shifted and the public gardens came alive with the colors of spring, you found yourself meeting Nanami Kento in a secluded corner of the park. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of bees. The vibrant landscape provided a stark contrast to the somber confines of the estate, and as you walked along the winding paths, your heart felt lighter, freed from the constraints of your daily life.

Nanami awaited you beneath a canopy of flowering trees, their petals drifting down like confetti around him. His eyes lit up with warmth as he saw you approach, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. He offered you a soft smile, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Your grace,” he said, taking your hand in his as you reached him. His touch was gentle, and he guided you to a nearby bench, where you both sat, the blooming flowers forming a natural backdrop to your intimate conversation.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you remarked, looking around at the garden’s vibrant colors.

“It is, my lady.” Nanami agreed, but his attention was solely on you. He reached for your other hand, holding both of them on his own. “But not as beautiful as you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you glanced down, unable to hide the smile that curved your lips. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

Nanami took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that made your heart race. “There’s something I need to tell you, my lady. I hope I may be so prude as to ask you for your kindness.”

You smiled at him tenderly. “I give you leave, my lord. You need not ask my permission.”

“I….I must be honest with you, my lady.” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the moment we first danced together, I knew that you were someone extraordinary. Over the weeks, as we’ve exchanged letters and shared our thoughts, my feelings have only deepened.”

He paused, his fingers tightening around yours. “I am in love with you, more than I’ve ever thought possible. And I intend to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

The words hung in the air, their weight both exhilarating and overwhelming. You stared at him, the truth of his confession sinking in. The garden, the flowers, the world seemed to fall away as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his affection reflected back at you.

“Yes, my lord.” you said breathlessly, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you. I’ve been waiting for someone who sees me for who I am, and who makes me feel truly alive. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, and a relieved, joyful smile spread across his face. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as he whispered, “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

You nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a future together. The garden around you seemed to celebrate with you, the flowers blooming even more brightly, the air filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. For the first time since your return to the estate, you felt a sense of genuine happiness and hope.

As you looked up at Nanami, the man who had shown you a different side of the world, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, joy, and the promise of a future where you could finally be yourself.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN HAPPIER. The news of your engagement to Nanami Kento spread like wildfire, and by the time of the next grand ball, it was the talk of every guest in the room. The ballroom, usually filled with the hum of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses, was now charged with an air of curiosity and excitement.

Everywhere you looked, people were whispering behind gloved hands, their eyes alight with speculation about the upcoming union between the Duchess and the influential Count. The event, ostensibly a celebration of the merging of two prominent families, felt more like a stage for the spectacle of your new life—a life that had changed so swiftly, it sometimes felt as if you were watching it unfold from a distance.

As you moved through the room, graciously accepting congratulations and well-wishes, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes that followed your every move. Some gazes were filled with admiration, others with envy or curiosity, but all of them were fixated on you, the woman at the center of this momentous occasion.

The weight of their expectations settled on your shoulders, making the air feel heavier, the music louder, the lights brighter. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, a part of you felt detached, as if this wasn’t your life at all, but a role you were playing in a story written by someone else.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and forced smiles, your eyes were drawn to one figure that stood out from the rest. Satoru. He was present at the ball, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the lively crowd around him.

He cut an imposing figure in his formal attire, his white hair catching the light as he moved with the grace of someone who had long been accustomed to being the center of attention.

Yet, tonight, there was a distance about him, a coldness that had not been there before. He was surrounded by admirers and well-wishers, as always, but even in the midst of the crowd, he remained aloof, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone—he could not find.

Your heart ached as you watched him, the memory of your last confrontation still fresh in your mind. The distance between you had grown wider in the weeks since then, an unspoken tension hanging between you like a storm cloud that refused to break.

You longed to mend things, to reach out and bridge the chasm that had formed between you and your cousin, but every time you caught his eye, he looked away, his expression unreadable.

The ball continued around you, the music swelling, the dancers twirling, but your thoughts were with Satoru. The joy that should have accompanied your engagement was tainted by the unresolved tension between you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through your fingers. Nanami’s presence beside you was steady, his hand warm on yours, but it was Satoru’s absence—his emotional distance—that gnawed at your heart.

As the night wore on, you found yourself searching for moments when you could catch Satoru’s gaze, hoping to see some sign that he was still the cousin you had grown up with, the one who had always been by your side.

But each time, he remained distant, his walls firmly in place. The chasm between you seemed insurmountable, and as the ball continued, the realization that you might never bridge that gap settled heavily within you.

Yet, despite the ache in your chest, you knew that this night was a turning point, a moment that would define the course of your future. The ball was not just a celebration of your engagement; it was the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

But as you danced with Nanami, his presence comforting and reassuring, your thoughts kept drifting back to Satoru, the one person who should have been standing by your side, sharing in your happiness. Instead, he stood apart, a distant figure on the fringes of your new life, and the pain of that realization was almost more than you could bear.

With a deep breath and a determination to confront the situation, you made your way across the ballroom toward Satoru. The crowd parted slightly, and his gaze met yours as you approached, his dark glasses hiding his true emotions but his posture unmistakably stiff.

“Satoru, dearest cousin.” you began, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I’m sorry for how things went the last time we spoke. I didn’t mean to defy you or hurt you.”

He regarded you for a moment, and then his expression softened slightly, though he remained guarded. “I’m sorry too, my lovely cousin.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I let my frustrations get the better of me. It wasn’t fair to you. I only wanted what I thought was best.”

Before you could respond, Nanami approached, his presence a calming contrast to the tension between you and Satoru. He offered a warm smile to both of you and extended a hand in greeting. Nanami then shifts his face, looking towards your own cousin.

“Is everything alright?” Nanami asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

Satoru glanced at Nanami, then back at you, and after a brief pause, he nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, my lord. I was just about to make a toast in honor of the engagement.”

He signaled to the servants, who quickly moved to bring in bottles of wine and glasses. The murmur of the crowd grew as they sensed something significant was about to happen.

With a gracious nod, Satoru raised his glass, and the room fell into expectant silence. His gaze shifted between you and Nanami, and though he spoke with his usual composure, there was a sincerity in his tone that was hard to ignore.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my gracious lords and ladies.” Satoru began, his voice carrying through the ballroom. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of two distinguished families but also the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of these two wonderful people. To my cousin, the duchess, and to my lord count Nanami Kento, I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

He turned to you and Nanami, his smile warm but tinged with an underlying complexity. “May your life together be filled with happiness and prosperity. May you find joy and support in one another through all the challenges and triumphs that lie ahead.”

The room erupted in applause, a cascade of sound that seemed to envelop you from all sides. The clinking of glasses followed, a symphony of celebration that filled the grand hall, yet in the midst of it all, your heart was racing with a blend of emotions you could barely contain.

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, cutting through the tension that had been knotted in your chest for what felt like an eternity. The applause wasn’t just for the announcement of your engagement—it was for the moment of reconciliation that had just played out before everyone’s eyes.

Satoru’s gesture, though unexpected, had sent a ripple through the gathered guests. His choice to stand and raise his glass in a toast, his expression carefully composed but unmistakably sincere, was more than just a public acknowledgment of your engagement.

It was a sign—a signal that he was willing to accept your choice, even if it pained him to do so. For so long, the distance between you had been a source of quiet anguish, an unspoken rift that neither of you had known how to bridge. But in that moment, with everyone watching, Satoru had taken the first step toward closing that gap, and the weight of that gesture settled over you with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

You felt Nanami’s hand tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the swirl of emotions. When you looked up at him, his expression was calm, yet there was a depth in his eyes that spoke of an unspoken understanding.

He didn’t need to ask what you were feeling; he knew. He had always known. Nanami’s quiet strength, the steadiness that had drawn you to him in the first place, was your anchor in this moment. His support was unwavering, his presence a silent promise that he would stand by you through whatever came next.

The applause continued, but the world around you seemed to blur, the faces and voices fading into the background as you focused on the two men who meant the most to you—one by your side, offering you a future, and the other across the room, finally offering you his acceptance. There was a bittersweet quality to the moment, a recognition that while you were stepping into a new life with Nanami, something else was being left behind.

As you smiled and nodded in response to the well-wishes of the guests, the gratitude you felt wasn’t just for the applause or the approval of those around you. It was for the unexpected turn of events that had allowed a measure of peace to be restored between you and Satoru, even if things would never be quite the same as they once were.

The mix of relief and gratitude in your heart was tinged with a quiet resolve—to honor the connections that had brought you to this point and to move forward with grace, knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

In that moment, with Nanami’s hand in yours and Satoru’s gaze finally softened by acceptance, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the weight of the past lift just enough to let you take the next step forward. The path ahead was still uncertain, but with Nanami by your side and the lingering warmth of Satoru’s gesture in your heart, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Thank you, Satoru." you said softly, raising your own glass in acknowledgment. “Your words mean a great deal to us.”

Satoru inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your gratitude, and then turned to mingle with other guests, leaving you and Nanami to share a moment of quiet reflection.

The evening continued with renewed energy, and as you danced with Nanami, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that despite the challenges, you were surrounded by people who cared for you and were willing to bridge the gaps that had formed.

As the night continued, the ball's festivities seemed to intensify, with guests dancing and chatting in high spirits. But amidst the celebration, you noticed that Nanami appeared increasingly pale and uncomfortable. His hand, which had been warm and reassuring in yours, grew cold, and he occasionally grimaced, as if battling an unseen pain.

Concerned, you guided him to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the crowd. “Kento, my love.....are you alright?” you asked, your voice filled with worry.

He tried to smile, but the effort was clearly painful. “It’s nothing, my darling.” he said, though his voice was strained. “I’ve just been feeling a bit unwell lately. It’s probably nothing.”

You helped him to a nearby chair, your hands trembling as you guided him down. But as soon as he sat, you noticed something terribly wrong. His face contorted with discomfort, his brows knitting together as a pained gasp escaped his lips.

His breathing grew shallow and labored, each breath a struggle that sent a jolt of fear through you. His hand moved to clutch his stomach, his fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ward off an invisible agony. His skin glistened with sweat, and his once calm and steady demeanor was replaced by something raw and unsettling.

Before you could even react, his body suddenly slumped, going limp in the chair. The color drained from his face, his eyes fluttering shut as if the strength had been completely sapped from him. Panic surged through you like a bolt of lightning, your heart racing as you dropped to your knees beside him. “Kento!” you cried, your voice thick with fear, hands shaking as you desperately tried to rouse him. But he didn’t respond—his eyes remained closed, his body frighteningly still.

Frantically, you called out for help, your voice breaking as terror gripped you. The noise of the ballroom, once lively with chatter and laughter, fell into a stunned silence. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable, as if the entire room had collectively held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Satoru was among the first to arrive, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with an urgency that matched your own. His usual easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he took in the scene before him. His gaze darted between you and Nanami, the gravity of the situation sinking in as he knelt beside you, his own hands hovering over Nanami’s still form, unsure of what to do.

A doctor, who had been attending the event, quickly rushed over, pushing through the gathering crowd with a determined expression. You watched in desperate anticipation as the doctor knelt on Nanami’s other side, his fingers moving quickly to check for a pulse, to feel for any sign of life. His face grew increasingly grave as the seconds ticked by, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the doctor worked, his movements precise yet tinged with a growing sense of urgency. The room’s tension mirrored the heartache building within you, a crushing weight that threatened to overwhelm you. Every second that passed without a sign of improvement, every quiet murmur from the doctor that you couldn’t quite hear, only deepened the pit of dread in your stomach.

The once festive atmosphere of the ball had been completely shattered, replaced by a chilling silence that seemed to echo your worst fears. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the cold, terrifying reality that the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Finally, the doctor straightened, his expression sorrowful. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do, your grace.” he said quietly. “Count Nanami is dead.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily paralyzed as their meaning sank in. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had been pulled out from under you, and you were left to freefall into a void of disbelief and despair.

You stared at Nanami’s lifeless form, his face pale and still, the strong and steady man you had known reduced to this fragile, unresponsive shell. It didn’t seem real—couldn’t be real. The vibrant world around you blurred, the colors bleeding into one another as your vision wavered. The music that had once filled the ballroom, the laughter that had echoed off the walls, now seemed like a distant, haunting memory from another life.

The sounds around you dulled, as if you were underwater, the cacophony of voices and gasps of disbelief fading into a muffled, indistinct hum. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if it were pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The reality of the situation was too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to process. Nanami, who had been so full of life just moments ago, was now gone. The finality of it was like a weight crushing your heart, and you felt as if you were being dragged into a darkness from which there was no escape.

Satoru placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to offer solace, but it only deepened the emptiness that had settled in your chest. His touch, usually so warm and reassuring, felt hollow and distant, as if even he couldn’t bridge the chasm that had opened up between the life you had known and the unbearable reality you now faced.

You didn’t look up at him, couldn’t bear to see the reflection of your own grief in his eyes. Instead, you remained fixated on Nanami, your mind desperately trying to reject the truth, to find some way to undo what had just happened.

The guests, who had been caught up in the joy and excitement of the evening, were now stunned into silence. Their expressions of shock and somber concern mirrored the confusion and heartache you felt. The whispers began to spread through the room, a low murmur that grew in intensity as people tried to make sense of the tragedy that had unfolded before them.

The once celebratory atmosphere had been shattered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease and sorrow. The collective joy that had filled the ballroom had evaporated, leaving behind only the cold, stark reality of loss.

As you stood there, your mind spinning and your heart breaking, the world around you continued to move forward, indifferent to the pain you were experiencing. The echoes of the music and laughter that had once filled the room now seemed like cruel reminders of a happiness that had been irrevocably taken from you.

The life you had imagined with Nanami Kento, the future you had so carefully envisioned, was gone in an instant, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty. Nothing was left behind.

You clutched Nanami’s hand, tears streaming down your face. “No, cousin....I....I cannot....” you whispered to him. “This can’t be happening. He was just here. We were about to start our life together.”

Satoru’s voice was gentle but firm. “We need to get you out of here, you cannot stay here.” he said, guiding you away from the scene with a sense of urgency. “Come with me.”

As you were led out of the ballroom, your mind was a whirlwind of grief and disbelief. The promise of a future with Nanami had been abruptly stolen from you, leaving you with nothing but the crushing weight of loss. The vibrant night that had once held so much promise now felt like a cruel mockery, its joy eclipsed by the shadow of tragedy.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU COULD NOT COPE WELL. Months had passed since Nanami’s tragic death, and despite the time that had elapsed, the ache in your heart remained as fresh as ever. The estate, once filled with the excitement of the engagement and the promise of a future, now seemed like a silent, mournful shell. Each day felt like an endless repetition of grief, with memories of Nanami lingering painfully in every corner.

Satoru, your cousin and now your closest family, had tried to coax you back to some semblance of normalcy. He encouraged you to attend social events, to engage with the world beyond the estate’s walls. But each time, you found yourself unable to muster the strength or the will. The world outside felt alien and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope you had once known with Nanami.

One evening, after yet another failed attempt to persuade you to join him for a dinner gathering, Satoru’s patience finally wore thin. His frustration, masked for so long, burst forth in an outburst that left you reeling.

“Why can’t you just move on?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “It’s been months. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding away in this grief-stricken state.”

The words stung, and you felt a surge of anger and sadness collide within you. “You don’t understand,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You didn’t lose him. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything ripped away like that.”

Satoru’s expression softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes as he saw the depth of your pain. The harshness in his voice faded as he approached you, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and gentleness.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice now filled with an earnestness that cut through the earlier anger. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I’ve been trying to help, but I know I can’t truly understand your pain.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a nearby armchair. His touch was soothing, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil you were feeling. “Let me help you,” he said softly, kneeling beside you. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Satoru’s presence was a grounding force, his usual aloofness replaced by a sincere attempt to offer comfort. He poured a drink from a decanter on a nearby table, holding it out to you with a reassuring smile. “Here,” he said, “a little something to help calm your nerves.”

You accepted the drink, your hands trembling slightly. As you took a sip, the warmth of the liquor began to ease the tight knot of grief in your chest. Satoru settled beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, the gesture tender and supportive. “I know it’s not the same as having Nanami here,” he said quietly, “but I’m here for you. We can get through this together, even if it takes time.”

You leaned into him, finding solace in his steady presence. The tears continued to flow, but amidst the sorrow, there was a small flicker of hope—hope that perhaps, with time and the support of those who cared for you, the heavy burden of grief might one day become a little lighter.

Satoru stayed with you, his hand resting gently on your back as you cried. In that moment, his support and understanding offered a sliver of comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of loss, there could be moments of compassion and connection.

The truth began to unravel slowly, almost imperceptibly. You had been grieving, struggling to find any semblance of normalcy, and trying to rebuild a life that seemed forever altered by Nanami’s death. Satoru, in his way, had been both a source of comfort and a persistent presence, urging you toward recovery. His support, once reassuring, began to feel increasingly intrusive, as though his concern masked something darker.

One evening, as you were going through some old letters and personal effects, a hidden compartment in one of Nanami’s personal belongings caught your attention. Inside, you found a stack of letters and documents that seemed out of place. As you sifted through them, a particular letter stood out—a letter from Nanami to you, written shortly before his death. Its contents were cryptic and filled with a sense of unease that made your heart race.

The letter spoke of suspicions of being watched, of a growing sense of danger, and a mention of a mysterious figure who had been lingering in the shadows. That evil forces were coming, investigated by the Crown. That he was a blue shadow, a dark shadow. You put the letter down, your chest tightening.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click together in your mind, and a chilling realization dawned on you. Satoru, he...he was called the Queen's Blue Ghost. That was what he does for the Crown. You bit the lower edges of your lip. You could feel your legs losing strength as you grabbed the table to balance yourself.

You shake your head, almost as though you were in denial. It can't be. Your cousin....He would not. He promised, that he would always be good to you. To everyone. He, he can't be.

Desperate for answers, you confronted Satoru, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. You cornered him in his private study, your voice trembling as you demanded the truth. He raised his head and smiled at you. But quickly, that retreated the moment he saw that look on your face.

"Cousin, is something wrong? Dearest one, you are agitated. You must—"

“Satoru, please.” you said, trying to keep your composure. “I require your honesty. Please. I need to know the truth."

"Whatever about? I have always been honest with you."

"Not on everything. And you know this. I know this."

"Dearest cousin, calm down—"

"What really happened to Nanami Kento? About the others. How many? How many others did you hurt?"

Satoru’s face, usually so controlled, betrayed a flicker of something dark and unsettling. He stepped closer to you, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The moment you said his name, the moment it all snapped. You could feel your heart pound as he corners you, traps you, in his vicinity. You swallow the bile down your throat.

“The truth, you say?” he replied, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. “I’m afraid you might not like it, cousin. I fear I might upset you. And....that is out of the question."

You took a step back, the fear overwhelming you. “What did you do? I know you had something to do with it. Did you poison him?”

A cold smile spread across Satoru’s lips. “You’ve been more perceptive than I gave you credit for,” he said softly. “Yes, I was responsible. But it was all for you, my dear cousin.”

The words struck you like a blow. “For me? What are you talking about?”

Satoru’s gaze softened, but the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “I’ve always been in love with you. Even when we were children, I was captivated by you. Everything I did, every action I took, was driven by my desire to have you for myself. And I do not care, how many suffers for it. That lowly count, those pesky tattletales. I do not care, cousin. As long as I have you. ”

The enormity of his confession hit you with a force that left you reeling. “You killed my Kento… just to have me? Do you....do you know how derange that is? How could you? How could you do this to me?”

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper that was both chilling and intimate. “No one else could ever be right for you but me. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking you away from me. Nanami was an obstacle, and I removed him to clear the path for us.”

Horrified and desperate, you tried to flee, but Satoru’s reflexes were swift. He grabbed your arm with a strength that was both frightening and unyielding. You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened as he pulled you close. Your heart pounded, and tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of his obsession.

“Let me go!” you cried, your voice breaking with desperation. “I can’t be with you. Not after this.”

Satoru held you tightly, his arms encircling you in a possessive embrace. “No,” he said firmly, his voice unyielding. “You belong with me. I’ve waited too long for this moment, and I won’t let anyone—least of all you—deny what’s meant to be.”

His words, though tender in their own twisted way, were laced with a darkness that left you feeling trapped and helpless. You could see the unshakable resolve in his eyes, the certainty that he was the only one who could provide the life he believed you deserved.

“I did it all for you, dearest one.” Satoru continued, his tone a mix of reverence and obsession. “Everything I did, every sacrifice, was to ensure that we could be together. You’ll see, in time, that no one else can care for you the way I do.”

It was as though for a moment, your memories echoed. That boy Satoru was, the distant and aloof boy you had looked up to, chased after — he was not there anymore. All that’s left is a monster. A monster who believed that loving you meant hurting you. Tears fell as you remember the boy he was.

The large, sunlit gardens were a backdrop to a series of memories, each one highlighting the contrast between your vibrant, spirited nature and Satoru’s reserved, emotionless disposition.

You were only six years old when you first encountered Satoru’s indifference. He was sitting alone in a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by books and sketches, seemingly lost in a world of his own. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, but his eyes, hidden behind dark glasses even then, were as cold and distant as the surrounding shadows.

Despite his aloofness, you were determined to reach out to him. You approached him with a bright smile, holding a daisy you had picked from the garden. “Satoru,” you called out, “would you like to play with me?”

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, his voice lacking warmth.

Undeterred, you sat down next to him, placing the daisy on his sketchpad. “But it’s such a nice day! Don’t you want to come outside and enjoy it?”

He stared at the daisy, then at you, a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity or irritation—crossing his face. “I don’t see the point in playing,” he said, turning his attention back to his sketches.

You persisted, your enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s not just about playing. It’s about having fun and being together. We can make up a story about the garden and pretend we’re explorers!”

“I don’t want to.” He whispered.

You pout. “But that’s no fun!”

As a young girl, you were determined to break through Satoru’s emotional barriers. One sunny afternoon in the grand estate’s garden, you devised a simple, yet heartfelt plan. You had spent the morning picking a variety of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening your small wicker basket. You were excited to surprise Satoru, who was once again immersed in his books and sketches in his usual secluded spot.

The garden was alive with the hum of bees and the soft rustling of leaves, and the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. You spotted Satoru sitting against a large oak tree, his focus intensely fixed on his work. With a smile, you approached him quietly, careful not to disturb his concentration.

“Satoru,” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun.

He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive.

You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

Satoru’s usual aloofness seemed to falter as he took in the sight of the flower crown. There was a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary break in his emotional armor. He looked at the crown, then back at you, clearly unsure of how to react.

Without waiting for his response, you gently placed the flower crown on his head, adjusting it carefully so that it sat comfortably. Your fingers brushed against his hair, and you beamed at him with an innocent, genuine smile.

“There!” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Now you have a crown fit for a king.”

Satoru’s initial reaction was one of shock, his mouth slightly agape as he touched the delicate flowers with hesitant fingers. The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a brief moment, you saw a rare, genuine smile break through his usually stoic expression. It was a fleeting, but unmistakable, expression of delight.

He looked up at you, his eyes softer than they had ever been. “You made this for me?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of warmth that was seldom present.

“Yes, cousin!” you replied, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought it might brighten your day.”

Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the conflicted emotions playing across his face. The flower crown, so simple and yet so heartfelt, seemed to have touched him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He looked away, his expression growing contemplative.

“It’s… nice.” he said quietly, a hint of genuine appreciation in his tone. “Thank you.”

You smiled, pleased with his reaction. “I’m glad you like it, cousin!” you said, reaching out to gently touch the crown. “I hope it makes you smile.”

As you walked away, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had managed to break through Satoru’s emotional wall, if only for a moment, and the sight of him wearing the flower crown was a memory you would cherish. Little did you know that this simple act of kindness would become a significant, albeit bittersweet, part of your lives.

The contrast between the boy who had once been so distant and the man who now held you captive was stark and painful. The memories of your childhood—the times you had tried so hard to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you—now echoed in your mind like a cruel mockery.

Those moments, once filled with innocent hope and longing, now served as a haunting reminder of how drastically things had deteriorated. The boy who had seemed unreachable, who you had thought might one day come around, had instead grown into someone who was both terrifyingly close and dangerously unrecognizable.

As you struggled in his arms, the harsh reality of your situation became all too clear. Satoru’s love, which had once been a source of warmth and comfort, had twisted into something dark and all-consuming. The affection that had once made you feel safe was now a prison, its walls closing in around you with every passing second.

The realization that his love had warped into an obsession sent chills down your spine, and the fear that gripped your heart was unlike anything you had ever known. You had always known Satoru was different, that there was something in him that set him apart, but never had you imagined that his feelings for you could turn into something so possessive, so terrifying.

His grip on you was unrelenting, his arms a cage that you knew you could not break free from. No matter how hard you struggled, how desperately you tried to push him away, his hold only tightened. There was no trace of the gentle boy you had known in his eyes now—only the cold, determined gaze of a man who would not be denied.

As he held you close, you could feel the weight of his obsession pressing down on you, suffocating you with its intensity. The warmth that had once drawn you to him had been replaced by a chilling darkness, and the love that had once been your sanctuary had become the source of your greatest fear.

A profound sense of betrayal and loss settled over you, heavy and unyielding. The man who had once been your closest confidant, your protector, had now become the architect of your greatest sorrow.

The trust you had placed in him, the bond you had thought unbreakable, had been shattered beyond repair. The future you had dreamed of, filled with hope and happiness, was now overshadowed by the bleak reality of his possessive love.

In that moment, as you were held captive in his arms, you understood with a heartbreaking clarity that the Satoru you had known was gone, replaced by someone you could no longer recognize.

The boy who had once been distant, yet filled with potential, had become a man whose love had turned into a dark obsession, and the life you had once envisioned was now lost to the shadows of his twisted affection.

“I waited so long for this day, to have you free from the nuns, from the watchful eyes of the church, from anyone who would keep you from me." He whispered. “And I had to deal with that pest, that lowly pathetic count. All of those who wanted to steal you from me!”

The air in the room thickened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against your skin. You knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted. It was written in the way he looked at you, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach out and claim you right then and there.

But you were no longer a child, no longer the naive girl who would blindly follow where he led. You were a Duchess now, with power of your own, and you would not be so easily consumed by the flames of his obsession.

Yet, as his hand finally found its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but feel the pull. The twisted, sick desire that mirrored his own, the yearning to give in to the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface of your soul.

"You will be mine, cousin." Gojo whispered, his lips hovering above yours. "Whether you like it or not."

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it He reached for you, his hands rough yet strangely tender as they cupped your face, his grip firm and unyielding.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours with a force that stole your breath. You struggled, tried to push him away, but he was stronger—much stronger. Your fists pounded weakly against his chest, a futile attempt to break free from the iron hold he had on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you felt the helplessness of the situation, the weight of his obsession bearing down on you. But even as your mind screamed in protest, there was a part of you that responded to his touch, a dark, twisted part that had long been buried beneath years of repression.

His hands roamed over your body with a fervor that mirrored the storm brewing inside you, fingers tracing the curves of your form as if memorizing every inch. He pulled you closer, his embrace tightening until there was no space left between your bodies, the heat of his desire searing through your clothes, igniting a fire deep within you.

You hated yourself for the way your body betrayed you, for the way your heart raced not only with fear but with a sick anticipation. You could feel the hunger in his touch, the same hunger that had lurked within you, hidden and denied for so long.

Gojo’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, his breath hot against your skin. His words were a whispered promise, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

"You can’t escape me, cousin." he murmured against your throat, his voice thick with desire. "I’ve waited too long, dreamed of this moment for too many nights. You’re mine now, and I’ll never let you go."

His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath as he explored with an urgency that left no room for doubt. You gasped, the sound caught between a sob and something else, something far more dangerous.

As his touch grew bolder, you realized with a sickening clarity that no matter how hard you fought, no matter how many tears you shed, you were losing yourself to him. The line between love and hate, between desire and fear, blurred until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Gojo pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his eyes darkened with a twisted satisfaction. His thumb brushed away the tears that still fell, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Don’t cry, my dearest." he whispered, his voice laced with mockery and something softer, something almost tender. "You’ll learn to love this, to love me, just as I’ve always loved you."

And as his lips claimed yours once more, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled, swallowed whole by the darkness that he had nurtured within you, until all that was left was the Duchess who belonged to the Duke—no matter the cost.

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victonair · 2 months ago

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“Maybe this time” - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

Fallen in love with Azul during your time in NRC, you had never gained the chance to confess to him in his final year: you were too late and your chance was lost in the winds of time. After graduating, you find yourself moving on with life and moving on from him, even opening a bakery and coffee shop in a small town near the sea. It was a perfect life for you - and it was all you could ever want. But when he shows up at your bakery one day, you’re not so sure you had everything you wanted in life anymore.

Or rather

In which, you fell in love with Azul in Highschool and after years of moping - you move on. But when he shows up out of the blue one day, you begin to question if you’ve really ever moved on in the first place.

Author’s Note: I enjoyed writing this! I was brainrotting about this concept so I decided to! Aside from this update, I finally got my first request!!! I’m overjoyed and to whoever decided to request me, I’ll be finished with it within a week or so as I’m quite busy with school. In fact, I have a test tomorrow…Oh well, please do enjoy the fic! Also, this fic is based off the song “Maybe this time” by Sarah Geronimo so check it out if you want!

Content Warnings: Not exactly hurt/comfort, more you moved on from the hurt first and then went again into hurt, then finally comfort. Gender-neutral reader. And lastly, amateur writing and off-pacing since the author wrote this at 3 am in the morning.

Moving on in life was a daunting challenge that could strike fear into most people’s hearts, because often, new things and routines either intimidated people or raised dislike for most. For many people, change was a facet of life they weren’t ready for, thinking that things would stay like that forever - the happiness, the pain, the routine; it was something that most people thought would stay for forever to come. But, really, does everything truly last forever? In some cases, people think so - but when life hits them in the face with change, it becomes a clear answer.

“A latte and a slice of cake, please!”

In some cases, things last forever - but not for yours. It seemed back then that the pain of Azul leaving and graduating, as well as the fact that you never conveyed your true feelings to him would stay forever. But through years of work, moping, reflection, and the best support system you could ever ask for - you finally moved on with your life and haven’t looked back since. Since you’ve graduated, you took to working yourself to death at first, but after a lot of reflection and coping - you decided to relax and take a hobby.

Which is how you landed with owning a bakery and coffee shop, even moving to a small town by the seaside since they had no late-night coffee shops and a bakery built - and so you took it upon yourself to set up one yourself. You thank the Lord on high that Azul was able to teach you basic business skills in able to set this up and how to know your audience - luckily, the townsfolk were quite appreciative and friendly which led you to become part of the community quickly.

“Sure! Order up!”

A smile on your face was evident as you made the latte and put the pastry on the plate. You were thriving; you had been thriving for years in this small and cozy community. It was the epitome of peace and coziness in this village, where the wind was different and fresh and where you were awoken by the sounds of bargaining in the market nearby. You had made the right decision in moving on from the pain of the past, instead moving and focusing on the future.

The regular at your shop smiled at you, taking the latte and pastry from the tray and sitting in one of the seats that overviewed the peaceful view of the sea: from the ripples from the waves visible for all to see, to the seagulls that flew in the air above, peacefully flying and searching for food - and to the townsfolk greeting you from outside the window with a smile and nod.

You were satisfied and content with what you had, you wouldn’t look back to the past not anymore - it was better to focus on the future instead.

Continuing your work, you spent your time idly making tasty caffeinated drinks and delectable pastries that was part of the reason you charmed most of the town’s hearts. It was the reason you had so many regulars at your shop, after all. And when it was closing time, you sat down and smiled at what you had done.

Before you could start closing up the store, you heard the bell ring and a smooth yet familiar voice filling the cafe, “Excuse me, are you still open?”

Looking towards the door, you expected yourself to smile and greet the new customer - you recognized every voice in this town and this one was certainly a new one. And yes, that was how well acquainted you were with each villager. But instead of smiling, you found yourself freezing in place and your mouth dropping slightly.

There was little to surprise you these days; you had borne the brunt of overblots, emotional breakdowns, and while violence was nothing to you - you had gotten used to peace as well. Peace from the people around you and the support you had gotten to those dear to you. There was little to shock and surprise you with, and yet right at this moment, you found your knees weakening, rooted to the same spot.

“…”

Silence was often a peaceful presence in your life, it helped you reflect through your days and things you’ve done - however, as of the moment, you wished you could break the silence yourself. For a while, quiet emanated through the shop as you observed the one person who you hadn’t seen or never expected to see till the day you died (or a school reunion at least): Azul.

When he graduated from NRC and left for internships, you had been an emotional wreck - knowing him, he was going to the farthest place and most successful companies to study and work under them. And you were right. He had gone to study and intern under one of the most successful companies in Twisted Wonderland.

Supposedly, you were going to confess your feelings to him back then, but the moment he was boarding the transportation to his final destination - you couldn’t do it. You just couldn’t. You froze and said one word to him, which was ‘Bye’. And you’ve regretted that decision ever since, it was one of the things you regret, but you’ve taught yourself to move on so it didn’t really matter anymore, did it?

“Well, aren’t you going to take my order?” His voice rang in your ears like a siren’s enchanting voice, beckoning you to reminisce on memories of the past. You were almost tempted to, until you realized what he said - making you immediately snap out of the frozen state and rush to the counter to take the order.

He had an amused smile on his face; he looked so similar yet so different to his past. His features were more matured, while he styled his hair in the same way with his curls - he had the same beauty mark, the same cunning eyes, and most of all: he looked as beautiful as the day he had left you.

“Right. W-What would you like?” Your smile was more wobbly than usual, while your voice was more strained

“Just a simple hot latte, please.” He responded, his head was tilted as he smiled at you; this was the same smile that had you on your knees in NRC.

God, you loved that smile.

At a loss for words, you got to work on his latte - inputting the correct amount of coffee and milk into the mixture - including a cute frothy image of a heart on top. It was the only one you knew how to concoct, and somehow, giving it to him made your heart skip a beat in embarrassment. As soon as you served it, he took a sip and smiled at you politely.

“It’s really good, [Name].”

He remembered you. Well, of course he remembered you; the late nights at his office and the time you spent together wouldn’t have resulted in him forgetting you. So, why in the first place, did you question if he forgot you in the first place? You were stupid, that was for certain.

“What would be better, however, is if you sat down and caught up with me.” He directed a polite smile towards you, a calm demeanor, the complete opposite of your current state. But following his words, you nodded and mumbled one word that fell from your lips:

“Okay.”

What ensued was a long conversation that was the both of you reminiscing over what was missed and what was done.

From the evening to the point where the sun was arising from its slumber, both of you had talked and laughed from the stories you had shared; for hours, you were graced with his presence and smile - and within the short period of time, you could feel yourself resorting to old memories and habits that you had with him. It was the way you smiled and laughed with him, cracking jokes and references that only the both of you could decipher. To him, it may have been a brief meet-up with an old schoolmate and friend, but to you? It was everything that the past you would’ve wanted.

By the time dawn had come, the both of you had glanced at each other like old lovers meeting each other once again after a brief exit out of each other’s lives a long time ago. It was unnoticeable to you, yet it didn’t go unnoticed to him.

“Are you leaving now?” You couldn’t hide the disappointment within your eyes, a small frown on your face as you held back from holding his hand - a gesture of wanting him to stay with you, obvious that you were pleading for him to stop his leave, and for for just this once: choose you.

“Don’t look so sullen. I’ll be staying here for a month, it’s my vacation. Jade is temporarily handling matters for me, and will only report to me if there’s an emergency.” He responded while sipping another cup of tea you had given him while the both of you were talking through the night.

Despite such a long period, the only thoughts entering your head was for him to stay longer, just a bit longer, just so you could relish his presence and his charming smile even more. You wanted him to stay, to let yourself go and feel the same things that you felt back in high school. You wanted the same chats, more time with him, and what you took for granted back then - to now be cherished.

You wanted a chance, a chance to do what you never did back then. To cherish the time you spent with him, and to finally express your old feelings to him - to live with no regrets afterwards.

“Promise you’ll see me everyday?” You crack a smile on your face, one that was filled with varying emotions: nostalgia, happiness, and courage - it was something you didn’t hide. You couldn’t.

Azul’s face wasn’t poised with a smile, instead his cheeks were coated with a light pink blush as he took in your features. But after a few moments, he smiled back - a smile filled with various emotions as well, feelings that you were too oblivious to pick up on.

“Of course. We have a deal.”

“I wonder if I’m going to get scammed.”

“How cruel of you, I wouldn’t scam one of my dearest old schoolmates.”

“We both know you would.”

The rest of the month was blissful, something different from the sort of peace you’re used to. The peace you had when you moved into the village was something you were grateful for, but this was an entirely different experience that you treasured every moment of. Days were spent exploring the town, baking with you, or going to the beach and looking to the ocean where he was reminded of his home. Every moment was sweet and domestic, and you didn’t realize it at first, but somehow - each time your eyes met with soft gazes, each time both of your hands intertwined, and when both of you hugged - it rekindled what you felt initially for Azul into a bright blazing fire of feelings.

You didn’t know what to do but simply laugh when you realized it. Because, how could you? The time you spent healing, reflecting, and spending on yourself, was it all for naught? How could you do this to yourself? When you already know he’d be leaving you by the end of the month, and in turn leaving your life once more. Once again, you were left a pondering and an emotional mess.

You wanted to cherish your time with him, but how could you now? There was. A couple of days left, and you realized something major: you had never really moved on in the first place. How could you see his face without your heart aching in turmoil and the pain of losing him once more? You’d be back to step one, back to how you were like after he graduated.

But despite that, you forced yourself to spend time with him, and unsurprisingly, it makes your heart twist in pain. But you did it, you wouldn’t let him depart without you saying goodbye.

“Doesn’t this remind you of something?”

You had chosen to go stargazing with him as the final activity both of you would enjoy together. You were supposed to be happy, but all you could really think of was how you’d lose him just tomorrow. And what’s more is the fact that this was what you both did together back in NRC before he graduated, you took him to Ramshackle and would gaze at the fireflies and stars.

“Yeah…it sure does.” Your voice was strained, but you managed to clear it out before he noticed it. “Ramshackle was the perfect place for stargazing.”

A peaceful silence made its way to the environment, the only sound being the breeze blowing against both of your skins. The moonlight shone upon each and every little thing, and you really only noticed it as you looked at Azul - his skin glowing as the moonlight showcased every little ethereal detail about him. He looked like a deity under the moonlight.

At that moment, all you could really do was observe his features, admiring them as you’d done in high school when you stargazed with him back then. Then, you laughed. You laughed until you ran out of breath, and until Azul stared at you with curiosity within his gaze.

He smiled at you while chuckling from your laugh, “What’s so funny?”

You took to staring at the stars above instead of staring at him this time, and it helped ease your pain just a little, “I’m thinking. I’m thinking about how stupid I am.”

“You’re not. You passed at NRC, after all.” His reply was disapproving of your words.

Humming in reply, you admired the stars, not bothering to meet his questioning gaze. “No, I’m not thinking about in terms of academics. I’m thinking how stupid I am emotionally - how could I do this to myself?”

You didn’t really care anymore about what happened next, you needed the burden and regret to pass. And so you spoke.

“How could I allow myself to fall in love with you once more? I’m just…frustrated with myself at this point. Once is enough, twice is questionable at this point. Even after years of not seeing you, how is it that I find myself feeling like I did back then within a month?”

Your words were exasperated and tired, it was a wave of emotions and feelings that you were releasing onto him. Unsaid words that were left alone when he was about to leave back then, finally came rushing to the surface.

“I-I don’t understand myself. Just why? I thought I had moved on, but I don’t think I have. I find myself wanting you wholly, to have you within my arms for the time to come and the years wasted on not having you.” You adjust yourself to meet him eye-to-eye, and the only thing you see when you do is a stare with an.indescribable expression. “I’ve loved you since back then, and while things may change, and time will pass - somehow, I think these cursed feelings of mine will change.”

“Forgive me, please. I never wanted these feelings-“

Tears brimmed at the tears of your eyes as you pleaded for forgiveness from him, only to be interrupted with soft lips pressed onto your own. You freeze and after a short moment, his lips detach from your own. “Are you aware that I’ve loved you for as long as you have?” His expression is still indescribable, but with the way his fingers intertwine with yours - you could tell that he was sincere.

“I love you, and I have for a long time. I…just didn’t know if you reciprocated - I came here with the sole intention of confessing what I’ve felt for years to you. So please, just repeat what you feel for me and if it’s truly not what I heard, then I depart the next day and leave forevermore.”

In an instant, you say three words that confirm that everything isn’t just a dream for him, “I love you.” And immediately, he kisses you once more - cupping your cheek in his hand as he pours the years of pent-up affection and feelings into how he touches you so lovingly and gently to the way his lips meld over yours.

And as dawn soon comes, he does not leave, instead he stays; he stays within the boundaries of your loving arms, as you stay in his as well.

#azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland

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journeythroughtarot · 3 months ago

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Walking your Path - Are you on the right path?

With so many things that could go wrong, we can often become restless at the thought of where we are going and if we have chosen the right path. It is important to remember that no path is the wrong path, as all parts of our journey are here to teach us something about ourselves and the world around us. But we can often become stuck on our journey or find ourselves going backwards, and sometimes we realise the choice we made is no longer serving us. Our uncertainty can also be our biggest obstacle, so if you are wondering if you are on the right path, this pick a pile is for you.

Pile 1 | Pile 2 | Pile 3

Remember to take what resonates with you and be understanding that the messages from these cards can be applied to all walks of life.

Pile 1

Your search for destiny

Destiny, Air 8, Air 12 - The Scribe

For this pile, there is one thing that is standing out amongst everything else and that is pride. Pride of who you think you are and pride of where you think you are on your current journey. You use your intelligence and vast understanding to further your knowledge of your current path, but you may do so to an extent of always staying on top of where you are instead of enjoying the present moment for what it is. I get this image of always trying to stay ahead, to control, to achieve and fix. These things make you feel better about yourself but they are actually standing in the way of your destiny. Destiny is not manufactured by careful planning and staying ahead of the lessons that are served to you. Destiny is fallen upon, guided towards you, and shown to you through the darkness. Squinting your eyes will not enable you to see it more. This may be a hard lesson for many who pick this pile as letting go and trusting the path that is served to you can be a difficult task. Learn to let go of your pride and acknowledge that you too will be in places of vulnerability and ignorance. Mistakes will be made, but they will not make you any less of a person. You have built these walls around you to stop you from feeling the pain and self-judgement that could await you if you acknowledged your hand in these mistakes. You are careful in your search for knowledge and self-development because you may have felt the fringes of these emotions in the past. Intellectualising your past and your feelings will not enable you to understand the heart of everything you have learned.

Trying to see if you are on the right path may be something you find yourself doing. Learn to let go and to trust all that the universe will show you. Barriers can only be broken if you allow yourself to walk into the unknown with the understanding that you have right now instead of the understanding you wish to have in the future.

Pile 2

Your need for order

Perception, Air 4, Thought

Your perception of where you are in your journey is being obscured by your thoughts and what you are allowing to take your focus. As you walk your path, your awareness and focus of what is playing out around you is being limited by negative thinking. I get this image of being pulled in multiple directions, by routines and timings, deadlines and tasks, making sure you get things done in the right way in the right time in the right order. Your focus on negative thinking - self-doubts, expectations, pressures, self-judgements, just to name a few - is pulling you away from what matters most. You may be always trying to harness productivity to make it work for you, but instead find yourself coming across obstacles. The path doesn't look right enough for you and you may have expectations of what it should look like. Your perception of yourself, your achievements, and your progress is being clouded by these thoughts, taking you away from the reality of your journey. This ideal of what you want your life to be like is only taking you further away from yourself. Striving for perfection in everything ignores the beauty of life and the work that goes into taking one step at a time. The fear of failure will only make you see failure in everything you do.

You may be looking for the right path, something glorious, productive, and easy going, but it ignores everything that is right in front of you. Life is much more than just sailing highs, it is also full of mistakes, grief, and pain. And these do not make the highs any less worthy or precious.

Pile 3

Your desire for safety

Queen of Earth, Water 6, The Maiden

You are aiming high for the life you want, aspiring towards the space you want to create for yourself, the beauty you want to cultivate, and the experiences you wish to manifest. You may have already dreamt about the abundance this life will give you and what it looks like in all its glory. What you may not have seen is that you are at the early stages of this journey, learning one step at a time and slowly taking all this abundant joy from creative vision into reality. You are on the path to independence and maturity, discovering everything that life can show you. What you need to remember is that you are not at the end of this journey. The joy of this is that there is much to learn, so enjoy the journey. You may be guarded over this vision, of this space, wanting to protect it from anything that might tear it down. Know that any intrusion will teach you something about yourself and the world around you, and some may end up changing your journey for the better. Something you need to remember along this path is to show yourself empathy and kindness, and perhaps this will enable you to do the same for others when it is needed. Grow your self-esteem and sense of self-worth like a seed that needs careful attention. Make a home for your vulnerabilities that is abundant in compassion and unconditional love. All the better to help you protect your space.

You are on your chosen path, but remember that there is much to learn and see before you reach your destination. Life will come in small steps with chances to grow, change, and develop your inner self.

#what pile did you pick?#pac #tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot cards #not messing about with this one #tarot reading #free reading #tarot spread #divination #astrology #journey #walking your path

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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Noble Bell ; prologue

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: (possible) series characters: rollo (barely mentioned), original characters additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is largely my own vision, I wrote this all in one sitting and it shows LOL, word count: 3.1k author's note: after several failed drafts, I decided to just write my thoughts on noble bell as a story. do tell me what you think and if I should continue, if you have the chance!

prologue | the king of truands, 1 | the king of truands, 2 |

It appeared as if, for all its hundreds of years of life, very little of Noble Bell College had changed.

The original face, or what is left of it at this time, is almost indistinguishable from the prints of great artists who lived when the City of Flowers was still but three parts of one whole. If it were not for her clothes, those great banners of cotton which hang from her walls and surround her like the ruffles of an unflattering dress, that which cradle the insignia of a college in wine-colored hands, that pointed fleur de lis in gold, Noble Bell College would be the very picture of her younger self.

The halls which extend from one end of her body to the other like the grotesque wings of a pigeon were added after the University, which had once been confined to its own division on the left side of the River Soleil, had consumed the island of the City, that which had, at one time, cradled twenty-one of these magnificent buildings, and now had only one. Noble Bell became a skeletal reminder of its medieval past.

Now, what was once a ground of solemnity and penance, and other ancient things, had given a painful birth to a different sort of self-punishment, that of academia. Noble Bell dawned its new clothes and its new name, and became a home of scholars, a place of enlightened thought. The island that had once been a sanctuary for the sacred became its final resting place. The College was built over hallowed ground.

The body of the Gothic building had gone, in some parts, untouched, however, the later additions, done in the style Haussmann some hundreds of years after, coil around her like the chains of a falsely accused prisoner, or the noose around a beggar's neck.

Statues on the face, neglected, crumbled into dust. The colored glass in the lecture halls were replaced with white windows for better light. Every hundred years, some haughty new headmaster would consider cutting down the building herself, and putting something new and ugly in her stead.

Nothing would ever come of it.

It is important to note, dear reader, that though the past of religion and superstition had been abandoned by the scholars of Noble Bell in pursuit of the enlightened future of thought, with it went only the body, not the soul.

The students of Noble Bell began to look upon their history with pride, rather than disdain, and thus the construction on the lady ceased, and the reconstruction started up. In some aspects, it was too late; the medieval glass had already been sold and repurposed into bottles which floated at the surface of the Soleil, the stone turned to dust and carried into the wind.

This romanticized past was tainted with a bitter guilt, one that struck even the proudest of freshmen when they met the eyes of the statues which guarded the building and her history. A sense of possession consumed the heart of the student body, and, thus, a gate was built. It was sanctuary no more.

A romantic would tell you that it is the love of the people that kept the heart of Noble Bell alive.

This is not true; it is guilt.

To the wise man, the realist, the freshman who feared the eyes of the statues, the traditions that carried on were as meaningful as digging up a rotting corpse and putting it on trial. Without the superstition, it was a delusion, a pathetic attempt at absolution for the sins of the scholar and the printing press.

Enlightenment became repulsive to him.

What was in the hollow halls of the Haussmann was never alive, and what had survived the purge of time and man was hidden in the bell tower for few to touch.

To the wise man, the only absolution of sin was through the fire.

Your heart wakes you before your body.

That is to say, the feeling of dread, of knowing you are somewhere you shouldn't be, comes before the biting cold and the splinters pressing against your back.

The inky water surrounding you in three directions (the fourth being the stone mouth of the river) nearly cradles you back to sleep. Your rest was quite comfortable. You can't remember the last time you slept like that.

Your mind is the very last to wake, and it is what finally forces your body up in a sudden jolt, uneasily rocking the boat which had become your manger.

You grip both sides until it steadies, which gives you enough time to adjust to the dark.

One thing becomes quite clear: This is not where you fell asleep.

Then, another: This is not what you were wearing before.

The delicate fabric, hand-dyed in wine and blood red, is like nothing you own. Where had these come from? Surely, not your closet.

And, more worrying: how did you get in them?

Take a moment, if you will, to look beyond the black water of the river: next to you, on your right, is a stone embankment, with a short ledging that extends only to a single flight of stairs. The wall is so high you cannot see above that.

Now, look behind you: there is one fabulous bridge, also of stone, arching above the water in a mesmerizing pirouette. Warm light spills from its sides and dances on the inky waters below.

Ahead of you is only more river and stone.

And then, on your right again, is screaming.

You had heard screams before, but none like this. This is bloody murder, save me screaming, the sort that makes you jump and run to its source without thinking first.

You climb out of the trembling boat, the sound of your footsteps scuffing against stone following you across the landing and up the steps.

Yet again you are stopped.

Rising above the embankment of the river as if ascending to heaven itself, reaching through the thin evening clouds and into the stars, are two magnificent bell towers.

Your steps slow, and then stop at the peak of the stairs to admire the body of the building, illuminated by street lamps and candlelight, blanketed in a fog of distant laughter.

You have never seen such an unearthly sight.

If not for the screaming, you could have spent days there.

But you are motivated once more to follow the strange sound, and, perhaps, find out where on earth you are.

Like a princess in a tower, the building is guarded by a rather impressive gate, not done in the style of the place itself, but sightly nonetheless. If it were not already left open and vulnerable by some obvious human error, you might not have found a way in.

The sound of your footsteps follows you across the stone, and you stop at the base of a staircase that would have led you to a set of inhuman wooden doors.

And... there is a goat.

A pretty, white little thing, with a bow around its neck.

it turns to you as you stop, and it makes that same screaming noise, and then bounds off around the corner of the building and into another, attached at its side.

"Wait," you say.

Though, your feet move before your mouth, your mouth before your mind, and you suddenly find yourself following this odd twist of a white rabbit.

The delicate thing leaps through an opening in the side, and you climb in after it, chasing it down open-air hallways that remind you all too much of an old monastery.

The goat bleats. "Wait!" you say. "Where is your owner?"

It bleats again, and it almost sounds like a laugh. How strange...

You tumble down corridors and halls, turn corners, ignoring the sound of laughter and cheering that is growing ever so close, and, all at once, you stumble out into the warm light of a party, crashing into something cold and metal. The goat disappears in the crowd.

Everything is silent.

You can see nothing but feet from where you fell, and a hundred hems of wine and blood red. Your clothes.

"Who is that?" someone asks.

"They weren't at orientation,"

"How could anyone be late? That's never happened,"

"They don't look like a student of Noble Bell..."

Student? So this is a school?

"You," a voice says, much colder and sharper than the others, like a winter breeze. "Get up."

You are in no place to disobey.

You stand, uneasily, and, much to your displeasure, every head in the crowd is turned towards you. Whispers dance amongst the students, glances are exchanged, looks ranging from confusion to disdain.

There is only one face you cannot see. At one distant end of the courtyard, there is a stage, dressed in reds and oranges, and on it, four actors. They are as still as the crowd, seemingly having abandoned their play in favor of the mysterious stranger.

The person in question, then, is actually below them, whispering something quite loudly, but you cannot make it out at this distance.

"Your name?"

You turn back to the wintry voice.

This man, you notice, is dressed differently from the others. He's in all black, from his boots to the cloak around him, even his hair, which flows around his shoulders, is as inky as the cold water of the river you had woken on.

"My name?" you ask.

He scoffs. "It is a simple request,"

"Shall we return to the mystery?" a weak, artificially high-pitched voice calls from the front of the crowd. "I'd like to see the mystery continue!"

"Quiet, Gregoire," the man in black snaps. "Now, who are you to come so late?"

"Late to what?"

A few murmurs ripple through the stillness of the crowd.

He sniffles, turning his nose up at you. "You do not know where you are?"

"No,"

Someone begins to whisper. "Do you think they're from-"

"Quiet!" he demands. "This is clearly not a student of any arcane academy I know of."

"They're wearing our robes!"

You look down at yourself. You'd almost forgotten about that.

The boy narrows his eyes. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I woke up on a boat,"

He sighs. "What part of the city are you from?"

"...The city?"

Another moment of whispers and stares. The crowd seems to have all but forgotten the play happening at the mouth of the courtyard.

The man in black puts his hands on his hips. "Yes. Now, what division are you from? The old university? The Ville?"

"I, um... none of those,"

"The outskirts, then?"

"No. What city is this?"

His brow furrows, and he crosses his arms. At the very least, he no longer seems angry. More... thoughtful.

"What country are you from?"

You tell him, and he huffs.

"There is no such place. None that I have heard of,"

The same voice from earlier returns. "Perhaps we should wait until after the mystery has concluded-"

"Gregoire!" the man in black snaps, "We know it's you! Quiet, for once in your life!"

"...Very well,"

He grumbles, massaging his temples, and then turns back to you. His eyes are as sharp and focused as his voice. They're dark, almost black, with the faintest gleam of red. He's wearing a lot of eyeliner, you think.

"Come with me. If you are telling the truth, then you will have nothing to fear,"

"There is no such place,"

"That's what I said!" the boy exclaims, swiping the atlas off the desk.

The headmaster of this school is old, much older than you are imagining now, thought perhaps it is not the fault of age, but of weariness.

"Control yourself, Monsieur de Neige," he says, looking longingly at the book whose pages are now scattered across the floor.

The boy grumbles, giving you a nasty side-eye.

"What will we do with them?"

"What else? They will stay here until we can find an answer. I will reach out to my colleagues at the other arcane academies and see if they have any council,"

"Stay here?" he snaps, standing from his chair with such force that it goes flying backward, narrowly missing you from where you're standing against the wall.

"They are not a student of Noble Bell. They are a stranger! Who knows what they might-"

"Now," the headmaster sighs. "I know we are a... private institution. But a long time ago, this building was a sanctuary for outcasts."

He grits his teeth. "I am not willing to risk the safety of the building or its students for an act of pity. You should know that I take my duties as vice president of the student council quite seriously-,"

The corner you'd been backed into was starting to feel tighter and tighter. If not for the conversation, you'd-

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the heavy wooden door of the office opening, but a sliver, and something white just outside.

Your eyes widen. You glance between M. de Neige and the headmaster, and, in the throes of their heated argument, you slip out into the dark hall.

"You," you say, putting your hands on your hips.

The little goat bleats. It doesn't seem very guilty.

"You led me there on purpose, didn't you? To create a diversion? What did you want?'

It stomps and scuffs its hooves against the stone floor, and with another little bleat, it turns around itself to show you something.

Your eyes soften.

There are two apples on the floor beneath it, both bruised and wrinkled, but good nonetheless.

"For me?"

You stoop forward and take one of the browning fruits off the cold, dirty ground, and slip it into one of the wide pockets of the robe. The goat chuffs, clearly pleased, and not even you can help but smile.

"Let's go, then, shall we? I want to get out of this place,"

The hallway is pitch black, the moonlight subdued by clouds and softened by the thick windows, but you can still make your way around quite easily.

You start heading in the direction you came, your new (and only) friend in tow, when the sound of footsteps scuffing against stone follows you.

You turn, eyes wide, expecting M. de Neige, or worse, but there's only a flash of gold and then quiet.

"Who's there? Come out, now, or... my goat will gouge you!"

The little animal stares at you, mouth hanging open in bewilderment, but it seems to work, anyway.

A boy, taller and thinner than M. de Neige, comes out from around the corner with his hands held up. Even in the dull silver light of the hall, you can make out the color of his eyes. Green. His hair is blond and reaches his chin, and is rather unkempt, curling and sticking out at odd places. His straight bangs are clearly cut by his own hand.

"My-my apologies. I did not mean to frighten you. I was only curious,"

You sigh. It's the voice from the orientation festival, the one M. de Neige called Gregoire.

"Well, don't be. We're leaving," you say. "Now... which way is out?"

"There are more than one, if you know where to look,"

You narrow your eyes at him and he goes pale.

"I-I only mean that there are many ways out into the streets, but you wouldn't want to be alone in the city after curfew,"

"I think I can handle it,"

"It's unsafe,"

"Is it?"

"Veritably,"

He doesn't seem to be lying, at least. You let your arms fall to your sides with a sigh.

"But I can't stay here. This feels like a prison,"

"It may," he nods. "It is stone walls all the same. But you don't have to stay here. The dorms are but a short walk away."

The goat bleats, and you agree. You're not sure whether you can trust this man or not, yet.

"What's your name?"

He seems to stand a little straighter, almost eager to talk about himself.

"I am the author Pierrot Gregoire, whose mystery was presented in the courtyard this evening,"

You seem to recall his voice again, his back turned to you in the crowd, as if he were infinitely more interested in his play than the commotion.

"I remember you," you say, sticking your hands in your pockets. You feel around the apple you'd put in there earlier. "Sorry I ruined it."

"The people were losing interest either way," he sighs and hangs his head. "My poor mystery..."

You glance at the little goat, and it chuffs back, nodding its head towards the end of the hall as if telling you to make a break for it while he's distracted.

You can't bring yourself to.

"Here," you say, handing him the shriveled apple. "We're even, then."

Pierrot's entire disposition changes; his face lights up with a childlike joy that makes it seem as if he'd completely forgotten about his woes, and he cups the apple in his palm with reverence.

"Oh... thank you," he says, finally. "I will take you to the dorms."

The evening had grown cold and windy since your spectacle in the courtyard.

The robes, at least, are warm enough to keep you comfortable, although you feel a pang of sympathy for the poor goat, who has only its fur, and, in a way, for Pierrot, whose robes look worn and beaten and strangely burnt.

"You can stay with me in the spare house," he says.

"You don't stay in a dorm?"

"My housewarden threw me to the streets months ago,"

He says it merrily, with that same smile, but there's an underlying sense of bitterness. You don't ask about it again.

Pierrot brings you to a small, dark building at the very edge of the island. Once again, you are surrounded by inky black water.

"Here," he hums, lighting a single candle as you walk in. "It's not much, but better than the sewers."

"You've slept in the sewers?"

He shudders. "I don't want to talk about it,"

Once an adequate amount of candles are lit, he pulls up a chest for you to sit on, and takes a seat on the floor across from you.

You sigh, letting out the stress and tension you'd been carrying in your chest in a single breath.

It felt much later than it truly was.

"That is a pretty creature of yours," he says, nodding at your goat. "Does it have a name?"

"Hugo," it says.

Both you and Pierrot go silent.

Then, finally, you shout.

"You can talk?!"

#noble bell college #<- for organization #noble bell #queued

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shadowdarlings · 5 months ago

Text

Rain & Redemption II

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : The Lord of Spring has returned, with his nightingale in tow. While readapting to civilized life you and Tamlin face reality together.

part one

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : so i am really digging the first part of this story and decided that i want to continue writing at 12:07am so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did <3

Warnings : slight angst (with comfort), mentions of trauma, suggestiveness, as always possessive tamlin (in a good way)

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Dinner with Tamlin was a drawn out affair. The deer he hunted down, no doubt in his beast form, had to be prepped and cooked. While he began dressing the fallen creature you took it upon yourself to begin sifting through the discarded and destroyed artifacts that littered the dining area. Although the manor had been shredded and abandoned, you couldn’t help but marvel at its refreshing beauty. Here there was light. Massive glass windows looked out to a rose garden that was surely once well manicured. The sun had already started its descent past the horizon but light still streamed in from every corner. The manor was everything that your home under that gods forsaken mountain wasn’t. The Hewn City was all darkness and stale air. You began sorting things into two piles. Items that were fairly unharmed were deemed “to keep”, others that had been completely torn apart were tossed into a discard pile. The two of you worked diligently in silence until he looked up from the deer and said, “You never told me your name.” You tore your gaze from the chipped vase in your hands and met his stare. “You never asked,” you began with a playful smugness, “but it’s Y/N.” Something unreadable flickered in his green eyes before a slight smirk cracked on his face. “Well, Y/N,” he said with a dramatic pause, “our dinner is ready to be cooked. How do you like your venison?”

You both agreed that without a working kitchen that a fire would be the best way to roast the deer. While he built a fire you toyed with an idea. “What if we preserved some of this beautiful bounty into something that will last beyond a night?” you asked him. Tamlin threw another piece of wood onto the makeshift fire and answered your question with his own. “As in a jerky? How do you mean?” That was exactly what you had meant. The future of your time in this manor and when you would next have a full meal was entirely uncertain. The topic had hardly been broached. “Unless you intend to spend the rest of your days hunting and building fires, it might be a prudent idea.” He looked you over before replying, “Smart, little bird. We’ll make two steaks for tonight and dry out the rest. It should preserve overnight and we can feast on jerky for weeks.” Satisfied with your quick thinking you helped him prepare the meat for roasting.

“What did you mean when you said you are not fit to be a ruler?” you asked after another bout of silence. Tamlin stilled his spinning of your dinner over the fire and his gaze shot to the flames between you. “I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “If I’m prying too much.” He did not look up from the inferno but said quietly, “I have abandoned my people and my post. Those who reside in the Spring Court put their faith in me. I have failed them again and again, in so many ways.” You blinked once at his brutal honesty before prodding further. “Will they not look to you once more? Surely there is a way to regain their trust.” His eyes moved from the fire to your own. They were filled with such sadness, such regret. “I would not know where to start, little nightingale.” You scoffed lightly as his response. “Well,” you began, “I think leaving those woods and coming home is already a start, wouldn’t you say? If you’re willing to return just to ensure the safety of a lone Night Court citizen, I can’t imagine what you might be willing to do for your people.” The sadness in his eyes faded ever so slightly as he said, “Since you’re so full of wisdom tonight, pray tell how might I continue this path of redemption?” You smiled at that.

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Tamlin was restless. Every time he started to fade away, sleep evaded him and he was jolted awake by poisoned memories. He had declared that he wanted to sleep outside the manor to stay alert for any looters or more dangerous creatures. He’d shifted into his beast form and taken post directly in front of the entrance just as night had overtaken the Spring Court. Truly, he was not sure if he was ready to sleep under this roof again. The two of you had talked for hours, discussing your histories and what the future of the Spring Court might look like. He’d escorted you to your room and bid you a gentlemanly goodnight, but your conversation replayed in his mind endlessly. A loose plan had been set in place to begin repairing his relations with those that depended on him. You had been so eager and determined while you both brainstormed ideas for making amends. He admired your tenacity yet was not fully convinced that this plan would work effectively. The thought made him queasy. His heart began a pace that tightened his chest and he was sure that if he’d been in his fae form that his palms would be sweaty. Tamlin shoved his anxieties down and recalled what you had told him about Rhysand, about how he’d condemned the entire Hewn City to a life of cruelty and rot. Although the idea of tomorrow sent him into an unending panic, he did not wish for you or any of his people to endure the same neglect for another moment.

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The morning light creeped in through the open window in your bedroom. It took a moment to recall everything that had happened, where you now were. The bedding had been dusty but a few shakes had it cleaner than before. You didn’t mind dirt, you’d spent a year lying on the forest floor. Waking up in a soft bed had become unfamiliar, but you relished the softness of the pillows and blankets before sitting to stretch your limbs. Moving to the armoire, you sifted through the clothing to find a pale green dress and a set of cream slippers. The outfit was plain but you didn’t particularly mind. Your mission for today did not require glittering attire. You fixed your hair into a loose braid and pulled two strands from the front to frame your face. After giving yourself a once over in the looking glass you deemed your appearance fit for the task at hand.

Tamlin was already dressed in a tunic and pants that were similar in style to the night before. You only gave yourself a moment to admire his wide shoulders before clearing your throat. He turned from his work on the piles you had created the night before and said “Good morning,” before he faltered. His eyes widened slightly and dragged up and down your figure. Meeting your gaze once more he choked out, “Well don’t we look the picture of Spring today?” You rolled your eyes at him and moved to take the picture frame from his hands. “We have a job to do, remember?” Tamlin huffed out a weak laugh before replying, “How could I ever forget?” He looked tired. You wondered if he slept as marvelously as you did. Considering that he spent the night on a set of marble stones you didn’t know how he possibly could.

The two of you moved outside to where the deer had been smoking overnight. Indeed it had preserved itself into a jerky that would remain edible for weeks. He started packing the strips into the wooden bin you had found in the kitchens when you said, “I have another idea.” He did not pause his movement or even look at you as he said, “Of course you do.” You pulled a basket from behind your back and waved it in front of his face to draw his attention. “I was thinking,” you began, “we should gather some flowers to take as well. These gardens are completely overrun. There are flowers and berries that need culling anyhow.” He straightened and assessed the gardens before the manor. “As you wish,” was all he said. Tamlin had been quieter than he was last night. You thought it best not to pry further and with his permission granted made your way into the thick of the garden and began collecting the fruits of spring.

When your basket was full and Tamlin had stored all of the dried meat you both began your trek to the nearest village. On horseback, he had told you, it would only take a half hour to reach your destination. After the fall of Spring his array of horses had all been stolen or set free by anonymous citizens. After two hours of walking the two of you were tired and parched. A nearby stream trickled with fresh water and you both drank deeply from its supply. “It’s just over that hill,” he said. The hike had been mostly silent. You were learning to enjoy quiet moments with the High Lord. It was almost as if you had a mutual understanding that the silence was not rude, but instead a peaceful reprieve. “No turning back now,” you said, standing from the stream and straightening your lightweight gown. He grunted in acknowledgment as you both continued your parade to the village.

The sight of the meager town was heartbreaking. Several houses and shops had fallen into rubble and the village center had looked as equally abandoned as the manor. Tamlin halted immediately, his breath quickening. Sensing his discomfort you moved to lace your fingers between his, squeezing tightly. The High Lord did not balk from your touch but instead gave a light squeeze back and continued his approach. The two of you reached a small home that had a plume of smoke rising from a stone chimney. A sign of life. Unlocking your hands you raised a fist and gave two sharp knocks to the wooden door. A few moments of shuffling and then the door swung open to reveal a gruff looking fae male. His eyes first landed on you, then travelled upwards to the towering Lord behind you. The male’s eyes widened with shock and reproach. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he spat at you both. You calmed the annoyance that flowed through you and made your voice gentle as you said, “I- We come to offer a favor to you and your home.” The male looked down at your basket and the dried jerky Tamlin held in his hand. “We don’t need your charity,” the male responded, “we’ve been fairing well enough on our own, girl.” A sweet voice sounded from further into the house, “Mikah? Who is it?” A pretty looking female stepped into the light of the entrance and put her hand on Mikah’s arm. When she turned her gaze to the two of you her expression almost mirrored the males’. “Our High Lord and his… this girl have brought favors.” She looked down to the goods you had presented and back to Mikah. “I told them we were just fine,” he said with a hint of finality in his tone. The female scoffed at him and observed the two of you once more. “We are most certainly not,” she started. “Invite him and the girl inside.” With that she turned and strode back into the house. Mikah gave Tamlin an incredulous look but opened the door further for you to enter.

The female’s name was Cera, you had learned. She fussed over dishes and refreshments as she lamented about their struggles. The village had been ripe for naga attacks and most residents had decided to evacuate the area for fear of their families. “Mikah did not want to leave, of course. He spends most of his days hunting, although they are not always fruitful.” You and Tamlin listened carefully to her story. There were only a few families that had stayed after his disappearance. They all struggled. You glanced over at Tamlin and were met with a stern face. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with despair. Underneath the modest wooden table you grasped his hand once more, turning your attention back to Cera. The four of you spoke for several hours. You and Tamlin expressed your willingness to help in any way you could with the naga and the rebuilding of the village. After exchanging the dried meats and gifts from your basket, the two of you made your way back to the front of their house. “Thank you for having us,” you said “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Cera reached out to pick up your hands. She looked at you then at Tamlin, her eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you for coming back. We need you,” she said. He nodded his head towards her and straightened as he said, “I could not have done it alone. It will take all of us to rebuild. I am thankful for your time.”

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Tamlin let out a heavy sigh when the two of you began your walk back to the manor. The day had been filled with conversations like the first he’d had with Mikah and Cera. The two of you had made your way to most of the families remaining in the village and presented your gifts as well as your pledges to restore their homes and lives. He was exhausted. Once the two of you had crested the hill overlooking the town he paused. You looked at him in curiosity. He was overwhelmed with emotions… gratitude, despair, grief, hopefulness, apprehension. Without thinking he grabbed your waist and pulled you close against his chest. He could hear your smooth, calming heartbeat. He breathed in your scent and closed his eyes. Only two days ago he had been more beast than man. Now he was walking on two legs and meeting with the people who had once trusted him. He felt your hands wrap around his middle as you nuzzled into him further. He could have stayed like this forever, but you pulled back looking up at him with those bright gorgeous eyes. “You did well today,” you said to him still in his grasp, “I’m proud of you.” Tamlin hadn’t heard such perfect words in a very long time.

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Taglist : @lilah-asteria @booksnwriting @stained-glass-eyes0708 @anxious-cactus @thrumbolt @jesskidding3 @acotarxreader @nocasdatsgay @scorpioriesling

#acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #tamlin redemption arc #tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Beast I

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Some Inner Circle slander. Angst... like a lot of it. And a family dinner that goes horribly wrong.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Bryaxis left you to find Eris. You were sure of it.

That is good, you thought, as you wiped away your tears and picked yourself off the floor.

If Azriel was able to enter Autumn unnoticed, you’d both need to reevaluate the security around Forest House and send a strong message to Rhysand that your thin alliance did not mean Azriel was permitted to enter and leave at will.

You swallowed your tears and collected your breath just as Eris rushed into the house like a tornado, scooping you up in his arms and searching you over with frantic eyes.

“I’m alright, Eris.” You murmured into his soft hair, breathing in his scent and finding it eased your aching heart, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Bryaxis followed in behind the High Lord, gave you both a nod and ran out again, this time in the form of a falcon. He was going to make good on your promise. If Azriel wasn’t out of Autumn by now he was as good as dead.

“Physically, you mean.” Eris said, lowering you to the floor and pulling you close.

You sighed, leaning against him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I worry about you in all ways, Y/n. But I confess, if he was able to best you in a fight I’d be surprised. I’d bet my money on you any day.”

You laughed without humor. Your mind went to business, as it always did when you wanted to ignore your true feelings.

“We should talk about defenses. I don’t like that he was able to enter Autumn unnoticed. Did you feel anything at all? Any disturbance?”

Eris’s jaw tightened. He knew what you were doing and wanted to take the time to talk through what you were feeling. But the look in your eyes told him now was not a good time.

He shook his head, “Azriel’s powers have always been clouded in mystery. My father spent years trying to keep him out. Clearly he wasn’t successful.”

“Once Bryaxis is back, I’ll ask that he keep guard - at least for a short time. Spread his power out over the borders. He’s built from the same darkness that seeps out from the Night Court and might have a better chance of sensing when things are wrong.”

And so are you. You crawled out of that darkness and survived. Eris’s eyes said, but you didn’t like to dwell on that truth often.

Years spent as Beron’s prisoner had changed you - made you more like the Shadowsinger than you cared to admit. Frustratingly it hadn’t made you any better at sensing when he was in your house and in your court.

“Good. I’ll speak to Halvor about increasing the guards posted around Forest House and the borders. We’ll keep it discreet and have Halvor winnow them.”

“And check for any missing guardsmen. He was wearing Autumn Court armor and either had to have stolen it or had it made himself.” You held out the patch of leather in your hand, discretely cut from the folds of his hood when you’d been speaking. Large enough for Myrah to scry with.

“It’s a good start.” Eris said, smoothing back the wrinkles in your forehead that came from irritation. He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “Talk to me, my love. And not about business this time.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, anger brewing inside of you. But not all of it was directed at the Shadowsinger.

“I just-” You huffed, “I didn’t know he was here. I didn’t sense him. I thought the next time I saw him it would be on my own terms. That I’d be more prepared.” You kicked at the ground, sending one of your abandoned knives skittering across the floor, “Instead I froze.”

“Bryaxis didn’t seem to think so. He told me he’s never seen you punch anyone that hard.” You frowned at him, but the pride and satisfaction that twinkled in his eyes melted away some of your sadness, like the first rays of spring on winter frost.

You dropped your gaze to the floor, “He said he and Rhysand were the only ones to know about the deal.” Flames flared to life in his eyes, like someone had shone a light through amber stones. “He asked to visit with the others. In Autumn.”

Eris nodded slowly, carefully. He didn’t like this, didn’t like this at all.

“Is that what you want? To see them again?”

You missed some of them more than others. You missed Cassian’s boyish humor, Nesta’s blunt honesty, Feyre’s love for all things creative, and the bright light that Mor seemed to carry around with her as easily as a torch. You even missed Amren, who’d come to tolerate you well enough in the few years you’d spent with the Inner Circle.

But Rhysand and Azriel… You would have missed them the most if not for what they’d done. Rhysand who you’d once seen as a brother, and Azriel, who you could have fallen in love with so easily if he hadn’t constantly pined over other females. Perhaps you had fallen in love with him at one point. Maybe that’s why it hurt so badly to see him again.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to make the decision now.” Eris said, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, “But I would like to ask you one thing.”

“Since when do you ever ask for things?” You said, trying to lighten up your spirits by toying with your lover.

He shook his head, “I am a very greedy male. I ask for many things from you - your time, your love, your attention.”

“And what would you like to ask for now?”

Eris hesitated.

“For you to move to the Forest House. Today. I’ll send for the rest of your things in the morning.”

“Today?”

“Today.” You looked around the house. It had steadily been emptying the last two months, coming with you to the Forest House in bits and pieces as your once nonexistent visits to Court became more and more regular. It was all part of the plan to introduce you to Court life and prepare you for the role you’d one day take at Eris’s side.

“I thought you wanted to take time. Prepare things better-”

“I know. I know that was the plan. But I’d feel infinitely better with you under the roof of Forest House with me… with me.”

“Azriel doesn’t know about us yet. The other courts don’t know.” You said.

Eris had always been so careful, so cautious concerning you, paying the townspeople for their silence, spreading rumors of visiting pleasure houses and flirting with the bolder females in court to disguise the one person who warmed his bed. You didn’t want him to feel rushed.

“I know.” Eris steeled himself. The scars on his back flexed uncomfortably, pulling and stretching at his flesh with memories of the past, “I don’t want to be afraid of that anymore.” He said, “I’ve lived in fear my whole life, unable to protect the ones I love. You know this. I can do it now, with you standing next to me.”

“I just… I want to make sure you’re not doing this against your will because of what happened today.” You said it sincerely. Eris was all about plans and safety and heavily disliked straying from them.

Eris froze and then laughed, a full-bodied laugh that shook his sturdy frame and surprised you.

“What did I say?” You asked. When he didn’t answer, continuing to laugh, you slapped his shoulder, “What did I say?! Tell me!”

“Oh, my love.” He sighed, stealing a kiss, “I’m not asking you to come home with me because of the meddlings of another court. I’m asking you because I want you there.”

You blushed furiously, color flooding into your cheeks.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He said.

“I’m not surprised! We’ve talked about this.”

“We have! We’ve talked about this in great detail.” You glanced around the room. It had stopped feeling like home some time ago. Home was where Eris was.

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“As in right now.”

“Well I would give you time to pack whatever you think you’ll need for the next day. I’m not a brute.”

It was your turn to laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely on the lips. He tasted like cinnamon and cloves.

You packed a small bag of your most treasured belongings - few in number as most had already been brought to the Forest House - and then you were off. Bryaxis would find you wherever you were and you would be able to sense if anything was wrong with him. Even now you felt his power near the borders of Autumn where he prowled about on his mission. But Azriel was long gone from the Autumn Court.

The Forest House was bustling with energy when you arrived, fae of all shapes and sizes bowing to you and Eris, carrying baskets of bread, honeysuckle, walnuts, and pumpkins against their hips to bring to the kitchens.

Myrah, Halvor, and Aurelia - The Lady of Autumn - were there to greet you.

Myrah bowed deeper than the rest, grinning from ear to ear as she took your belongings and ran them to your room. She had served Lady Aurelia dutifully as a blademaiden for over fifty years, and now she would serve you with just as much fervor.

“My Lady.” You said, bowing your head.

Aurelia’s scarlet hair and amber eyes were a twin to Eris’s and she smiled at you with a light that had never fully dimmed during her marriage to Beron. Lucien might have been her favored son - the one born out of love and passion - but Eris was the most like her in appearance and she thanked the Mother for that every day.

“I’ll have none of that.” Aurelia said, grasping you by the arm and forcing you to stand upright. She ran her thumbs over your cheeks before dipping her head towards her son and leading you away for a proper meal and rest.

So it went for the next few months. You dove into your court duties during the day, attending meetings with Eris and Aurelia, court dinners, and pouring over reports by the warm light of the fires that filled every room in the Forest House. Your evenings were dedicated to your research in the libraries with Bryaxis curled up comfortably in your lap. And your nights were filled with Eris, whispered words under satin covers, hands resting comfortably against your back and thighs, silken strands of red hair between your fingers.

You ignored the letters that arrived on your desk from the Night Court for as long as you could. Nesta had even made her way through Winter to visit you in person, only to be turned away at the border personally by Myrah.

That had been the call for you to finally invite them to dinner at the Autumn Court.

The blademaiden, soft and swift as wind and more resilient than iron, brushed through your hair carefully, weaving thin leaves of gold into the braids until your hair gleamed when it caught the light.

Bryaxis was partial to her, puffing his chest out from his seat on the vanity until Myrah stopped her work to give him a quick kiss on his little black head.

“I think you might be his favorite person.” You quipped, smiling at her through the mirror as Bryaxis continued to sit ramrod straight, waiting for another display of affection. Myrah obliged, scratching him behind his ears as he closed his eyes and rumbled in satisfaction.

“Pffft. Everyone knows he’d go mad if you so much as chipped a tooth.”

“Teeth are important! It’s less impressive when you snarl at enemies with a gap in your teeth.”

Myrah snorted, finishing your hair and wrapping her arms carefully around you. Her hair was similarly arranged with silver instead of gold to better match her gray-blonde hair and steel gray eyes. She looked like the thunderclouds that rolled over the hills before rain.

You patted her arm before moving over to the full length mirror, carved from a single slab of wood to look like birds in flight. Your breath caught in your throat. The wine-red dress hung from your frame as light as air, threaded with black and gold around the careful beadwork so that you rustled with light and energy. You looked otherworldly.

Myrah brought her hands to her lips, glowing with pride and happiness. For years she’d seen Lady Aurelia wilt and endure. It was good to know you would not suffer the same fate. She’d sooner die than let anything happen to you. Even Bryaxis was impressed with your appearance, shifting between shadow and flesh as he regarded you with a molten eye.

A knock on the door drew your eyes away from your reflection. Aurelia stepped inside with an ornate wooden box in her slender hands, looking like a living flame and crossing the room on light and even steps.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked gently, putting the box down and taking your hands in hers. Myrah bowed and took her leave, taking up her position outside the door. The folds of her skirt concealed a gleaming silver sword and no shortage of other weapons.

Bryaxis also followed, rubbing against Aurelia’s ankle with a gentle purr as went.

You took a deep breath after the door shut.

“Nervous.” You said honestly, “More than I would like to be.”

“That’s understandable.” Aurelia said, surveying the curve of your dress, your neck, and ears and nodding. “You look powerful. Myrah did well. Not that you needed the help.” She whispered the last few words like a secret, as if concerned the female outside would overhear and find offense.

You smiled.

“But, I think you’re missing a few elements.”

You blinked, smoothing your skirts and looking around. You hadn’t thought you were missing anything.

Aurelia opened the box, compartments springing outward like the unfurling of alocasia leaves. Rows upon rows of jewelry, some delicate and some that weighed as heavy as stones, were laid out neatly.

You blushed furiously.

“Eris didn’t-I mean this is too much”

Aurelia tipped her head back in laughter, hair swaying across her graceful back like the flickering of candlelight against a window.

“Now that you are here I am sure Eris will spare no expense. But these are from me.”

With patience and a careful hand she helped you pick out a thin pair of bracelets that snaked up your arm like the veins of a riverbed, golden cuffs that accentuated the length of your ears, and finally a dainty necklace of amber and gold.

“This one looks different from the others.” You said, tracing the thin chain against your chest, “It’s beautiful.”

Aurelia smiled, a quiet sadness in her eyes. “It wasn't made in Autumn.”

“Where was it-” You paused. A knowing look passed between you two. “I understand.”

The clock chimed. A gentle ring that made your heart beat faster. It was time. The Night Court would have arrived already - if they decided to be punctual that was.

“I suppose it’s time.” You said, offering your arm to the Lady of Autumn.

“One more thing.” She said, grasping your shoulders so you stood face to face. The crown glittered in her hair - a thin band of gold from which grew garlands of paper thin flowers and maple leaves interwoven with redwood. It was said to have been made by one of Autumn’s Old Gods, a powerful relic that spoke of traditions past that the people still honored.

It rested on your head now, laid there by Aurelia’s slender hands.

“Perfect.” She said with a smile, tilting your head up with two fingers beneath your chin.

“I can’t-I can’t wear this.”

“You can, and you will. Your Lady commands it.” She took your hand in hers, squeezing it with all the love of a mother, and led you out the door.

Myrah was vibrating with excitement and kept stealing glances as the crown on your head. Bryaxis curled up around her shoulders as she trailed after you and the Lady of Autumn.

Eris and Halvor were already waiting by the steps to the great hall - Halvor in his general attire, and Eris looking like the heart of Autumn in a resplendent suit of bronze, gold, and scarlet. He stilled when you approached, eyes darting to the crown in your hair and softening. His mother only nodded, giving you both her silent blessing.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured as you took his arm.

“As do you.”

Halvor coughed and Myrah rolled her eyes.

“You also look wonderful, Halvor.” You said, shaking your head with laughter.

He bowed deeply, “Thank you, My Lady.”

You blushed. With the Lady of Autumn’s crown resting in your hair and the unofficial title rolling off Halvor’s tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world, it all felt like too much.

Eris squeezed your hand in reassurance, flashing you one last smile before he would have to let the mask of the High Lord slide over his face.

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Ready.”

You descended the steps, Aurelia and Myrah (and Bryaxis) to your right and Halvor to Eris’s left. They were the beginnings of a proper court. An Inner Circle of their own. Eris swallowed the emotion, the gratefulness for everyone who stood with him, for another time.

Still, he was looking at you when you all made your appearance and the Night Court’s conversations died in the air.

Nesta, Cassian, Mor, Feyre, and Azriel all stood to one side of the table. Cut from the trunk of an ancient elder tree, the rings spoke of the passage of two thousand years. You felt insignificant in the face of all of that history, gripping Eris’s arm for reassurance as you led the way down the last flight of stairs.

“Welcome to Autumn Court.” Eris said, voice cold and emotionless as he swept his arm out to the side and dipped his head ever so slightly. Everyone in the room followed suit… everyone except you. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on pleasantries when you could drink in the sight of your old family… if they had ever even been your family.

Nesta noticed, never taking her eyes off of you as she searched you head to toe, lingering on the glittering crown on your head with barely concealed surprise.

The sight of it was a dagger through Azriel’s heart, twisting and turning without mercy as Eris placed his hand at the small of your back. Protective, cautious, and ready to winnow you away at the first sign of trouble.

It should have been him standing beside you.

Rhysand was conspicuously absent as you’d expected. There was no way he’d drag the core members of the Inner Circle to Autumn and leave Velaris vulnerable. But perhaps it was better this way.

“Y/n.” Nesta said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. Her voice came out strangled with grief.

You blinked in surprise at the emotion in her voice. There was a hollowness beneath her eyes where dark shadows gathered, thinly covered with makeup to make them less noticeable.

Your teeth ground together to hide the trembling in your lips.

Nesta. Beautiful, sharp, and terrifying Nesta. Nesta who you’d dragged home from bars, stumbling and wasted. Nesta who you’d screamed at and cried with. Nesta who would never, ever let anything happen to the ones she cared about.

“Nesta.” You said carefully. You looked at Eris and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod.

Go on. This is for you. His eyes said.

You let go of his arm, stepping forward like a boat slipped off its mooring.

“Cass,” He smiled at you, warmth flooding his chest when you still used his nickname.

“Feyre,” Her eyes glittered with starlight.

“Mor,” She let out a shaky breath.

You steeled yourself for the last, familiar face.

“Azriel.” He stood there, still as stone while his heart raged inside him.

“It’s… it’s good to see you all again.” The words flowed out of your mouth more easily than you’d expected and you found there was a great deal of truth to your words.

The last you’d heard, Feyre was suspected to have given birth to another child - a girl this time. The gentle roundness of her figure and glow of her smile confirmed it. And Nesta and Cassian had married, twin rings of silver flashing on their fingers. Marriage was insignificant in the face of the bond they shared, but you were happy for them nevertheless. And Mor… Mor was as bold as ever, daring to race across the room and gather you up in her arms in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She gasped, burying her face into your hair and breathing in your familiar scent.

You stiffened in her arms.

Halvor’s arm shot out in front of Myrah, her hand hidden in the gathers of her skirt and resting on the knife strapped to her thigh. She was a coiled spring, ready to launch herself at anyone who dared touch you. It wasn’t until you slowly relaxed and returned Mor’s embrace that Myrah allowed herself to loosen, flashing a scowl in Halvor’s direction. He only smirked and winked at her.

“We didn’t know. Please believe me. Please come home.” Mor whispered the words for you and you alone.

Come home.

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply before peeling the female off of you. You didn’t try to ignore the pain or betrayal that flashed in her eyes when you stepped away and floated back to Eris’s side.

“Please, sit.” You tapped Eris’s arm and with a snap of his fingers, mountains of food appeared on the table in front of you. Any other day your mouth would be watering at the sight, but today your stomach only clenched with nerves as you and Eris took your seats at the head of the table.

Feyre and Mor sat across from you at the other end, Azriel to their right and seated next to Aurelia and Myrah, and Nesta and Cassian to their left. The Lord of Bloodshed scowled at Halvor, who only smirked and dropped into the seat beside him.

If anyone wanted to attack their High Lord and Lady, they’d have to tear through Halvor and Myrah to do it.

Aurelia was a blessing as always, pushing the conversation through the usual, pleasant motions even when tension hung thick in the air.

How do you do it? You wondered, as she managed to draw a quiet laugh from Feyre’s lips.

The High Lady of the Night Court wore a deep, wine red dress so dark it was nearly black. Only the warm light flickering from the three fireplaces and the faelight chandeliers dangling overhead hinted at the color of the fabric. Somehow you knew it was Feyre’s way of showing her support for you.

She was shocked, as was everyone, when you’d appeared at the steps looking every bit like a High Lady beside Eris. And the love in his gaze hadn’t been lost on her. He looked at you the same way Rhys looked at her.

“How long have you been living here?” Feyre finally asked gently.

You’d hardly touched the roasted quail and walnuts in front of you, carefully following the conversation and wondering who would be the first to ask you the questions they were all dying to know the answers to. You weren’t making things easy for them, sitting on your small throne of cedar and gold that was the twin to Eris’s seat and looking as impassible and aloof as a bronze sculpture.

Everyone’s eyes focused on you. Eris shifted ever so slightly in his seat, angling his body towards you and leaning on his hand with a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his beautiful face.

“Eight years. Almost nine now.” You said, swallowing a bite of food with difficulty. The Inner Circle froze, the sounds of singing cutlery falling silent.

“Eight years?” Cassian said, his face paleing.

Nesta’s grip on her fork and knife tightened, knuckles turning white as the silverware struggled not to bend.

“We didn’t hear you were alive until four months ago. If we’d known…” Feyre’s voice faltered.

“You would have visited sooner? Don’t bother yourself with that. I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to be left alone.”

Azriel seemed to shrink in his seat when you said that. After all, he’d helped set this all into motion.

“So what changed?” Mor asked, almost accusingly. It was the first time she’d spoken since embracing you and the sting of your rejection hadn’t dissipated over dinner. “You’ve moved into the Forest House. Been seen at court. With him. If you want to be left alone, to stay hidden, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

Before Eris could spit back a reply, Halvor growled threateningly, banging the table with his fist. “I’d watch my tone if I were you.” He said as smoke rose from between his fingers.

If it was any other court they were dining with, Eris would have warned Halvor to control his temper. As it was, he only gave a minor nod of approval to his brother. There were many things they disagreed on, but one thing was certain - they’d both protect you to their last breath.

“You’re being awfully silent, Eris.” Mor spit out, completely ignoring Halvor and Eris’s rightful title.

“Mor.” Feyre hissed in warning.

Your eyes turned dark.

Eris swirled the wine in his goblet, taking a careful sip and making a point of looking languid and unimpressed.

“I don’t have anything to say.” He paused, “Actually, that’s a lie. I have much I would like to say to you. Choice words that your precious Inner Circle wouldn’t appreciate hearing.” He looked at you, eyes softening as he downed the rest of his wine, “But tonight’s not about me.”

“Y/n.” Mor said, half in anger and half in desperation, “Stop this and come home. You don’t belong here.”

“And why should you have a say in where she belongs?” Myrah said. Her normally soft and lilting voice was low and deadly, “You were the ones who abandoned her in our court to die. Does the story sound familiar to you, Morrigan?”

“Mor,” Cassian and Feyre both reached for her hands, but she ripped out of their hold, standing up with an ugly groan of her chair as it was sent toppling backwards.

Her chest heaved with fury, fingers twitching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Myrah matched her anger, knife sliding into her hand with ease as she pointed it at the blond-haired female across the table, “Who’s the villain now? Or will you do what you’ve always done and blame it on my High Lord?”

The tension in the room finally snapped.

Mor screamed in fury, launching herself across the table. Before Myrah could land the first blow - a wild glee in her eyes - Azriel leapt up from his seat. He angled himself in between the two females, wrapping his arms around Mor’s waist and pulling her away as she continued to fight back and scream bloody murder.

Feyre’s jaw clenched, slamming against Mor’s mental shields. Her commands to stop fell on deaf ears.

“You bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

Myrah beckoned her forward, daring Mor to try.

At some point in the chaos of it all, Bryaxis had changed form, taking on the shape of a bear and climbing onto the table beside Halvor. Cassian pushed Nesta behind him, his already pale face blanching further as he recognized the monster that bared its teeth at him and his mate.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” You slammed your hands against the table and stood up, your powers exploding outward in a rush of darkness and dampening the powers of everyone in the room. Everyone except Eris.

He stood up slowly and moved to stand behind you, one hand resting on your waist. His touch grounded you.

He’d felt your power before. He understood it. And he would not stand in the way of it. He would not stand in the way of you.

And he would not let you stand alone.

Mor stilled in Azriel’s arms, gasping as the suffocating nature of your power lifted off of her. Everyone slowly recoiled back into their seats.

Bryaxis returned to your side, inky eyes surveying the scene like a hawk.

“I invited you here so you would know that I am safe and well and happy. Not so you could insult and threaten my family. If you want to continue like this, you may as well save us the trouble and leave.”

Mor took in a shaky breath, face hidden behind her golden blond curls, and went silent.

“You should have told us.” There was no saving this evening, and Nesta finally took the opportunity to say her piece. “You should have told us you were alive. We would never have left you here alone. We would have brought you home.”

“Don’t you dare, Nesta.” You seethed, “Don’t you dare make me out to be some traitor. I never told Beron anything. No matter what he did to me. No matter what he threatened to do. I never betrayed you.”

Nesta’s eyes were two thin chips of ice and the knife she’d kept in her hand snapped in two, clattering to the floor. But the cold anger she harbored in her heart was not aimed at you.

“We didn’t know.” She said, “I nearly killed Azriel and Rhysand when I found out what they’d done.”

Azriel flexed his shoulders, feeling the memory of Nesta’s blade stabbing through the scar there. She’d aimed for his heart. It was only because Cassian intervened that he’d been spared. Now he wished her aim had been true, maybe then he would have been spared the look of heartbreak on your face now.

“What kind of an excuse is that?! If Beron had asked for anyone else in the Inner Circle none of you would have dared to even entertain the idea of a trade to get Elain back.”

“There was no other choice.” Mor said weakly, trying her best to defend Azriel as he had always defended her.

The mighty Shadowsinger looked like death next to her. Still and empty.

He’d never been quite the same after handing you off to Beron. When Elain had been returned to their family safe and sound and curled up in his arms, it wasn’t the joyous reunion they’d been hoping for.

Azriel had left a piece of himself behind with you, something he’d never managed to get back.

“THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER CHOICE!”

The rage and heartbreak stirred within you. Never gone. Never forgotten. Only contained.

“You would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect your own. You would have burned the world to the ground rather than agree to a trade of lives.”

Your eyes narrowed in on the High Lady, someone you’d once respected and would have died for.

“Feyre. What would you have done? Hmmm? What would you have done if Beron asked for Mor, or Cassian, or gods forbid Nyx in return for Elain?”

Feyre’s confidence faltered, the mask of the High Lady cracking and splintering under your forceful gaze.

“What would you have done?”

“I… I would have-” Her voice broke, “I would have given myself or died trying to find another way. I never… I never would have done what we did to you.”

“I would have done it.” You whispered. “If that’s what you’d asked of me. If that’s what needed to be done, I would have gone to Beron willingly to help you.”

Eris closed his eyes at the admission. It burned him to see you like this. Pieces of his heart cracking along with yours. He wanted nothing more than to winnow you away from this place. From these people.

“It was my fault.” Azriel said, stepping into your line of sight and hiding his High Lady behind him. His hazel eyes bore into yours, begging you to listen to him. “I was the one who told Rhys to agree to the trade. I was the one who convinced him not to tell anyone until it was too late. If you are to blame or hate anyone, blame me. Hate me.”

Your lips trembled, eyes burning with unshed tears as you took in shaky gulps of air. You should have hated him. You should have wanted to bury him beneath the force of your power, steal away his breath, and kill him where he stood. And with the way he looked at you, propped up by longing and shame and hope, you knew he would let you.

If you pulled out a sword, he’d kneel down and bend his neck forward. If you tackled him to the floor and beat him bloody, he’d smile to have you so close to him again.

It was a terrible, unfortunate thing that the fiercest kinds of hate existed only a hair’s width away from the fiercest kinds of love. Because the truth was you didn’t hate him. No matter how much you’d convinced yourself that you hated him, it wasn’t true. You loved him. And that was a far, far worse thing.

The bond snapped into place for you so suddenly, so much like a blow to your chest that you stumbled back, crashing into Eris’s solid form as he wrapped his arms around you. It burned in the deepest parts of your soul, filling you with a warmth and light that should have comforted you but instead only made you cower.

“No.” You gasped, curling into Eris’s chest and ignoring the looks of horror from everyone in the room.

Azriel was kneeling on the floor, one scarred hand clutching his chest as he felt the fullness of the bond rear its mighty head.

It was everything that he had ever wanted. He could feel you on the other side of the bond as naturally as he felt his own being and you were bright and warm and lovely and fierce. You were more overwhelming than a winter storm. More devastating than an earthquake.

He thought he was going mad. He wanted to kill Eris for holding you like that - for holding his mate. But… you looked so scared. Scared of him.

“No. No. No no no no no no.” You repeated over and over again, burying your face into Eris’s shoulder as Aurelia flew to your side, murmuring words into your ear that you couldn’t register.

“Y/n.” Azriel’s shadows were flying around him now, reaching out to you and desperately sliding up your arms and legs. Through the bond you felt it all - his shame, his self-hatred, his longing... His love.

Your power shot out in a wall around you at the same time that your mental shield slammed closed on the bond. His shadows beat back against your power and against the barrier you’d placed around your mind. You could still feel him there at the edges, begging to be let in.

The table shook and groaned, bottles of wine tipping over and crashing into waves of red over the floor as Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Feyre slid backwards.

Azriel stood his ground as best he could, half-crawling towards you against the whirlwind of your power. You faintly heard him roar your name over the sounds of the room tipping and turning.

You were afraid to look at Eris. The one who’d given you a home. The one who’d promised you the world by his side. The one you loved and the one who loved you more than anything.

Eris held your clinging form to him, fire exploding from around him and wrapping around his family members in a protective circle as Feyre, Cassian, and the rest called out to you, begging you to listen to them.

“Get out.” He roared. You trembled in his arms, clutching him tighter, but his words were not for you. “Get out of my house. Get out of my court or I swear to the Mother I will burn you where you stand.”

His words, dangerous and unyielding, echoed throughout the room.

Cassian pulled Nesta to his chest.

“Nes, we need to go. Nes… She doesn’t want us here.”

Every part of her being screamed at her not to leave you again, but Cassian was right. You didn’t want them here anymore. So after one last look at you, she took her husband’s hand and disappeared without a trace.

Tears streamed down Mor’s face as she and Feyre shook Azriel, murmuring to him to get up. He stared, slack jawed and unrecognizable as he looked at you with more feeling in his expression than anyone had thought him capable of, silently begging at you to look at him, just once.

Feyre shook her head at Mor, grabbed him by the shoulders, and winnowed them all away.

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Author's Note:

This was a really tough chapter for me to write because I wanted to get the nuances of all the characters correct and give everyone their own 'moment' during the dinner scene.

I want to make clear that I really like Nesta and Mor as characters and just because I write them be more 'hostile' towards Reader and just because Myrah attacks Mor and invalidates her past trauma does not mean I dislike them or have any hate for them.

*(And by 'Myrah' I mean me because... you know... I wrote the damn thing)

They're both complicated characters and I don't always condone the actions of the characters/versions of characters I write. It's just part of the fanfiction writing process that sometimes characters you have a lot of love and respect for have to become the antagonist in another person's storyline.

I just wanted to leave a note about that because I think Nesta and Mor get a lot of unfair hate from readers and I don't agree with that.

Thanks for reading and thanks for listening to my Ted Talk.

Love,

Florence B.

P.S. I know this chapter is pretty long (I think it's 6,000+ words) but I didn't want to disrupt the momentum by breaking up the chapter. Forgive me. Or don't.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters @kalulakunundrum @chasing-autumns-chill

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