#gems' monarch sound better
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mire-the-swamp · 10 months ago
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Nico di Angelo: Ghost King
Bianca di Angelo: Queen of Shadows
Hazel Levesque: Gems' Monarch
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srslyscary · 4 months ago
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crown heist
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contents/warnings: SFW, slightly ooc, lowercase intended
including: wooyoung x reader
w.c: 2.2k
note: royal au! EAT EAT EAT . anyways I have nothing else to say. enjoy!
_
the kingdom of adalin was known far and wide for its grand castles, vast forests, and most of all, its indomitable queen. queen YN was the epitome of grace, her image perfectly curated by the royal advisors to maintain the idealistic vision of a monarch who was as innocent as she was powerful. the people adored her, believing her to be a delicate flower who ruled with a gentle hand. but wooyoung knew better.
every thief worth his salt had heard of the crown kept in the queen's chambers—an heirloom that had been passed down from generation to generation, which holds the power to command the loyalty of the entire kingdom. for a thief like wooyoung, stealing it wasn’t just a job—it was the ultimate prize.
the plan had been set in motion weeks ago. wooyoung had spent countless hours mapping out the castle, learning the guards' routines, and finding the best points of entry. he’d bribed, blackmailed, and even charmed his way into the castle more than once to learn the layout. by the time he was ready, he could navigate the corridors blindfolded.
the night was thick with silence, the moon hanging high in the sky, casting a dim silver glow over the kingdom. wooyoung moved like a shadow, slipping past the guards with practiced ease. the dark, winding hallways of the castle were like a second home to him now. he avoided the pressure plates, sidestepped the creaky floorboards, and held his breath as he slithered past the patrolling guards.
finally, he reached the queen's chambers. the door loomed before him, a thick, imposing barrier that would intimidate any ordinary thief. but wooyoung was no ordinary thief. with a smirk, he carefully picked the lock, the satisfying click of the tumblers falling into place filling him with confidence. he slowly pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him with barely a whisper of sound.
the room was dark, save for the pale moonlight streaming in through the grand window. wooyoung’s eyes scanned the room, finding the bed draped in rich, heavy curtains. the silhouette of the queen was visible through the fabric, her form still and quiet, as though she were sound asleep.
he crept forward, his gaze locking onto the crown resting on a pedestal near the bed. it was even more magnificent up close, the gems embedded in it catching the faint light and sparkling like a thousand stars. this was it. the prize he'd been dreaming of.
just as his fingers brushed the cool metal of the crown, he heard it—a sharp click, unmistakable in the silence of the room. he froze, his heart pounding in his chest as a voice, harsh and commanding, cut through the darkness.
"move another inch, and i’ll shoot you dead."
wooyoung’s blood ran cold. he turned his head slightly, his eyes widening as he realized the queen was not in bed. instead, she stood in the dark corner of the room, her figure partially obscured by shadows. she stepped forward, the faint light illuminating her face as she trained an 8-inch double-barrel shotgun on his head. her black gown clung to her form, a stark contrast to the image the people of adalin had of their queen. this wasn’t the delicate, demure ruler everyone believed her to be.
"you," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "what the hell are you doing in my room at this ungodly hour?"
wooyoung chuckled, his hands slowly raising in surrender. “i’m here for the crown."
her lips curled into a smirk, though her eyes remained cold. "and what makes you think you can just walk in here and take it?"
he hesitated, trying to gauge his options. wooyoung was known for his silver tongue, but something about the way she held the shotgun—steady, without a hint of fear—told him this was not a woman to trifle with. "I thought you were asleep. the crown is a... valuable piece. It's—"
she cut him off with a scoff, pressing the barrels of the gun harder against his head. "you have no idea what that crown represents."
wooyoung risked a glance at her, surprised by the venom in her voice. the queen's public persona was so different from the woman standing before him now—this was someone hardened by life, someone who had seen and done more than the people could ever imagine. he had to admit, he was intrigued. "you’re... different from what the people say."
she arched an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "oh? and what do they say?"
"that you're sweet, innocent, wouldn’t hurt a soul. they say you don’t have the courage to do much of anything."
the queen chuckled darkly, lowering the gun just enough for him to breathe more easily. "reality is always closed off from the naked eye. the people see what they want to see, what I allow them to see. but you, thief, you’ve seen something they never will."
wooyoung dared to smile, his natural charm bubbling to the surface despite the danger. "well, your majesty, I must say, i’m quite honored. not everyone gets to see this side of you."
she rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "flattery will get you nowhere, thief."
"wooyoung," he corrected her, his tone smooth. "the name’s wooyoung."
"and I’m not interested in a thief who has no dignity," she shot back, her gaze never wavering from his.
his smile faltered slightly. "ouch. That's a bit harsh, don’t you think?"
"not nearly as harsh as what I could do to you right now," she replied, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. she stepped closer, the barrels of the gun now resting against his forehead, cold and unforgiving. "this crown," she continued, her tone growing more heated, "is not just a piece of jewelry. it’s the last treasure my father owned. when I inherited this kingdom and its riches, I lost the one person who meant the most to me. this crown is all I have left of him, and I’ll be damned if I let a petty thief take that connection away from me."
wooyoung’s breath hitched as she pressed the gun harder against his skin. he could see the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her hand trembled ever so slightly. she was close to losing control, her anger and grief warring within her.
for a moment, he thought she might pull the trigger. but then, she hesitated, her expression shifting from anger to something else. something more vulnerable.
she lowered the gun, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world had finally crushed her spirit. wooyoung watched in silence as she pressed the barrels of the shotgun to her own forehead, closing her eyes with a weary sigh.
"why am I even bothering?" she muttered, more to herself than to him. "i’m too tired for this."
wooyoung stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say. this was not how he’d imagined the night going. the queen, once so fierce and commanding, now looked drained—mentally, physically, and emotionally.
she turned away from him, moving back to the dark corner where she had been sitting. with a flick of her wrist, she turned on a small lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow over her face. she sank into a plush chair, her grip on the shotgun loosening as she stared at the floor.
"i don’t know why I’m telling you all this," she said after a long silence. her voice was quiet now, almost defeated. "you’re just a thief, someone who doesn’t care about anything but his own gain."
wooyoung, sensing an opportunity, slowly lowered his hands, taking a cautious step closer. "maybe. but... maybe I do care."
she looked up at him, her eyes filled with doubt. "why would you? you don’t even know me."
"true," he admitted, "but I can see you’re going through something. and... i’ve been through my share of hardships too."
the queen scoffed, though there was less venom in it this time. "what could someone like you possibly know about hardship?"
wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "more than you’d think. but that’s not important right now. what matters is that... you don’t have to go through this alone."
she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "alone? that’s all I’ve ever been. even surrounded by people, i’ve always been alone."
wooyoung’s heart twisted at the pain in her voice. despite his initial intentions, he found himself wanting to help her, to ease some of the burden she carried. "you’re not alone right now," he said softly, taking another step closer.
the queen’s gaze met his, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit. when she found none, she looked away, her expression softening. "i didn’t tell you to come closer. and why haven’t you run off with the crown like you planned?"
"because—“ he chuckled, choosing his words carefully. "because maybe I’ve found something more valuable than the crown."
she arched an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "and what would that be?"
"you," he said simply, his voice sincere.
the queen stared at him, her expression unreadable. for a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions. then, she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "you’re a strange one, wooyoung. i don’t know whether to believe you or shoot you."
he smiled, the tension in the room easing slightly. "how about neither? maybe we can just... talk."
she considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "alright. talk."
wooyoung took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to steer the conversation away from his own demise. "you uh— mentioned your father earlier. he must have meant a lot to you."
the queen’s expression grew pained, but she didn’t shy away from the topic. "he was everything to me. my father was the only person who truly understood me, who saw me for who I really am. when he died... it felt like I lost a part of myself."
wooyoung listened intently, his usual cocky demeanor subdued as he absorbed her words. "sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone important."
she looked at him, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "who did you lose?"
he hesitated, then decided to be honest. "my brothers. they were the only family I had left. after they died, I... well, I lost my way. that’s how I ended up as a thief."
the queen studied him, her gaze softening as she saw the pain in his eyes. "i’m sorry for your loss, wooyoung."
"thank you," he replied, surprised by her genuine empathy. "it’s been a long time, but... it still hurts."
she nodded, understanding all too well. "grief is like that. It never truly goes away."
they fell into a comfortable silence, the tension between them dissolving as they shared their stories of loss. for the first time, wooyoung saw the queen not as a target, but as a person—someone who had been through just as much pain as he had, if not more.
"why do you put up with it?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "the facade, I mean. why pretend to be someone you’re not?"
the queen sighed, leaning her head back against the chair. "because it’s what’s expected of me. the people want a queen who’s sweet, innocent, and kind. they don’t want someone who’s hardened by life, who’s been forced to make difficult decisions. if they knew the truth... they’d lose faith in the crown."
"but isn’t that exhausting?" wooyoung pressed, genuinely curious. "pretending to be someone you’re not, day in and day out?"
"of course it is," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "but what choice do I have? the crown is more than just a piece of metal. It’s a symbol of my father’s legacy, of everything he stood for. I can’t let that be tarnished by my own failings."
"but you’re not failing," wooyoung insisted, stepping closer to her. "you’re just human. no one can be perfect all the time."
she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "maybe not. but I have to try. for my father’s sake."
wooyoung reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her hand. "your father wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of a crown. he’d want you to be true to yourself."
the queen stared at their joined hands, her expression conflicted. "I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve been pretending for so long that I’ve lost sight of the person I used to be."
"then maybe it’s time to find her again," wooyoung suggested softly. "and you don’t have to do it alone."
she looked up at him, her facial expression unclear. "why are you doing this? why are you being so kind to me?"
"because I see you," he said simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "the real you. and I think... I think you deserve to be happy."
the queen blinked, rather confused on what emotions she was feeling. for so long, she had been alone, carrying the weight of the crown and the expectations of the kingdom on her shoulders. but here, in the quiet of her chambers, with a thief who should have been her enemy, she found a flicker of hope.
a single tear slipped down her cheek, and wooyoung gently wiped it away with his thumb. "you don’t have to cry," he murmured, his voice soothing. "i’m here."
she closed her eyes, her heart aching with a mix of relief and longing. "I don’t know what to do," she confessed. "i’m so tired, wooyoung. tired of pretending, tired of being strong all the time."
"then stop," he urged her, his tone gentle but firm. "stop pretending, stop being strong. just be yourself, even if it’s just for tonight."
she opened her eyes, looking up at him with a vulnerability that she hadn’t shown anyone in years. "and what if I don’t like who I am underneath it all?"
"then we’ll figure it out together," wooyoung promised, his heart clenching at the sight of her pain. "you don’t have to face it alone anymore."
then queen let out a shaky breath, her defenses crumbling as she allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. "I don’t even know where to start."
"start with the truth," he said softly. "tell me who you really are, not the queen, but the woman underneath."
she hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "my name is YN."
wooyoung smiled, squeezing her hand gently. "it’s nice to meet you, YN."
she managed a small smile in return, feeling a sense of warmth that she hadn’t felt in years. "it’s nice to meet you too, wooyoung."
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caregivingchrysalises · 9 months ago
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Ohh I'm a bit jealous it's been cold for you, but I'm happy you're excited for some warmer weather! Do you have a favorite summer time activity? I really wanna go swimming or camping, there's always lots of lizards and other little friends to see and admire (better get some cold treats now for the hot days! Ice-cream sandwiches would be my pick I think)
Nimona is such a good movie!! Ever after high is a really good show too, do you have a favorite character? Found family is also really comforting for me, it's one of my favorite things to watch/read. Howls moving castle, labyrinth (1986), and Robin hood (the animated one with foxes!!) would be my comfort movies! For shows I've been watching transformers prime and sailor moon ^^
:0 I bet your stuffie is very nice! (Even if they're a tough critic) are they a bear?
I love spending time at the chrysalis, you're always very kind and sweet! Take care my dear friend, it's always a pleasure - rosie
the weather outside is frightful…. but the chrysalis is so delightful (a bit early for holiday tunes perhaps)~ but nevertheless i am looking forward to swimming and spending time in the sun with loved ones with the new season! summer has always been a season for flying here and there which lets me say hello to lots of friends i haven’t seen in a while!!
i was just reading about the monarch butterflies and the efforts to revive their habitat~ it’s stories like that that remind me how grateful i am to be surrounded by nature and all of the various creatures and critters who live within it!
i adore darling charming and lizzy hearts!! their style and characters are wonderful!
you have absolutely splendid taste blossom, i love all of the films you’ve mentioned~ the fox version of robin hood is an under appreciated gem! i’ve heard great things about those shows, and have gathered glimpses of both over time, and they too sound delightful!
right you are angel! my stuffie is a bear, though i have a couple of different variations of them (i’ve got one that looks like a dragon, which i think is quite cool)~ but your darling prinx is always looking for more bears and other creatures to add to zer collection (i have a vision of s dragon plush but haven’t found one i love),,
i’m not sure if i’ve asked this yet, but i’m curious if you prefer sunrises or sunsets? would you rather have a picnic at the park or at the beach (or a mystical third option i didn’t mention), it’s an honor truly, i’m everso glad to see you, always! you’re welcome any time lovebug!
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empty-like-my-soul · 11 months ago
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ALRIGHTY IT'S TIME FOR ME TO START BEING INSANE LET'S GO
as a note, I am doing this compare and contrast out of love and silliness because I am absolutely FERAL about both characters
First off, appearances.
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As you may see, both have that puffy blue coat and that very red hair. Though you may not be able to see it, both also have brown boots and dark blue pants. And also belts. Jay has a white shirt, with ruffles going all the way down the front, that cuts off at her midriff. You can see the beginnings of that on Gem as well, though it is cut off by a light blue coat vest thing. The other contrast of note is that Gem has a bandana, while Jay has a pin in her hair.
Next are some more general mentions.
Both of them are bi, pirates (currently), and have a friend with a strange relationship with the sea. Albeit it's in entirely different ways but they're both fishmen. Who's names start with a G. And have incredibly similar backstories. I should stop THIS IS A GEM AND JAY FERIN APPRECIATION POST NOT A GILLION AND GRIAN APPRECIATION POST I'LL TALK ABOUT THEM LATER-
Anywho. They're also both played by Canadians who generally don't necessarily act like the stereotypical Canadian (as in both are incredibly violent physically and emotionally especially towards that one friend. I mean this in a fun way. Like bullying your siblings).
One place they differ is their... species? In fanon, at least, Gem is usually a deer hybrid. Or an elf. Or both. Or a monarch butterfly. Personally I like to see her as a moose at the current moment. Gem is a lot of things because Gem is great. But most commonly a deer. Jay is strictly human, from what I've seen. I mean yeah sure bird wings but she's not avian in nature. She just has wings. Another place they differ is their choice of weapon. Jay's signature weapon is some sort of pistol or revolver, and she prefers long range. Gem, however, prefers swords and melee combat. How else will she feel the glee of collecting heads?
This brings us on to the personality section. Both have marginally sized egos, albeit understated. They also have that amount of confidence inside themselves which leads them to be more headstrong or forceful in their beliefs. Both are the "logical" ones of the groups they're in but they do definitely jump headfirst into the insanity of the group, if that makes sense. Like if you see someone doing something stupid but harmless you join in.
The personality is very similar, they just have different parts amplified. Gem is moreso cheerful, whereas Jay has more, for lack of a better term, bloodlust. That is not to say that they don't both have these traits, it's just Gem is a bit more happy (sounding at least), while Jay holds a bit more hatred in her heart. Gem will murder people while giggling. Jay has daddy issues but smiles anyway.
If you wanted to oversimplify things, Gem is effectively Jay if you took away her daddy issues/if her dad was around. Jay is similar to Gem of you gave her a dad who kinda wants to kill her. But again, that's an oversimplification.
If you don't know who Jay Ferin is but want to see more, go on over and watch JRWI (Just Roll With It), a DND podcast on YouTube and Spotify! She's specifically from the Riptide campaign, which has been going on for over 100 episodes! (And if you find them cool and want to support them,, check em out on patreon)
If you don't know who Gem is and you wanna see more, this is the perfect time! Go search up GeminiTay on YouTube, and watch Hermitcraft Season 10! There's 3-4 episodes of that out right now. She also streams on Twitch under the same name. If you like binging, also check out her POV of Hermitcraft seasons 8 & 9!
In conclusion, give Gem a gun and let Jay Ferin have hooves
Gem’s season 10 skin looks like jay ferin and I can’t unsee it
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echodoctor · 3 years ago
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Call it a historical fiction
“…and in the fourth month of surveying his lands, Ozmanthus came to a prosperous town under his rule, and there was held a celebration.
During the festivities, a young child presented him with a clumsily-made crown of flowers and leaves, saying ‘look, it has your name!’
The founder agreed that the crown was indeed woven of osmanthus flowers, and placed it on his head with great solemnity.
The lord magistrate of the town was deeply embarrassed, and made to scold the child, saying that a great king was above such things and that they would show their wealth in proper fashion, presenting their ruler with a crown of gems and gold.
Ozmanthus held up a hand to indicate the man should be silent, and spoke, saying ‘the child is far wiser than you, who would present me with what I do not need.’
He gestured to his long and shining hair, declaring that nature had already provided him with a crown of gold, and thus he needed no further adornment. The symbolism of the flowers was far more pleasing to him, and should the magistrate have gold to spare on crowns, he would be better served by spending it to provide for his people.
His wisdom thus explained, Ozmanthus proceeded to wear the flower crown for the remainder of his visit.”
-An excerpt from the historical records of House Arelius, regarding various deeds of their founding patriarch.
“Doing a little light reading, Cassias?”
He’d known Eithan was coming this way, and somehow the man had still managed to greet him at exactly the right moment to interrupt him in the middle of a sentence. Somehow, he suspected it was on purpose.
“Just brushing up on my history.”
Even on a cloudship too small for a proper training session, you could at least spend the journey improving your mind. There was no sense in laziness.
“Come to think of it… weren’t you something of an expert on the founder, back in the Rosegold branch? What did you think of this parable?”
Out of politeness, he held up the scroll to show the text, even knowing that Eithan could probably read the whole thing from several rooms away.
“My tutors never seemed to agree whether it was a lesson on the importance of humility, or a metaphor about how a true Monarch carries themself with pride, no matter the circumstances. …One of them was convinced it was just a morality tale about not spending too much money.”
Eithan blinked. “That one? I should think it would be obvious!”
“Really? So what is the meaning, then?”
“You can be the most powerful person in the room, or the country, or the world...” He looked Cassias directly in the eyes, expression unusually stern. "...but when a small child hands you a flower crown, you wear the fucking flower crown.”
Cassias opened his mouth to chide Eithan for being irreverent about their founding patriarch- then thought of his son's many, many crayon drawings pinned up on the walls of his home, and paused. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to argue the point.
The rest of the trip continued in surprisingly peaceful silence, broken only by the faint sound of Eithan humming to himself. When he looked over, Cassias saw the man twisting something green in his fingers, weaving it together.
When the cloudship reached their destination, Eithan stood up and went to go oversee the landing.
Left behind on the chair where he'd been sitting was a pristine, perfectly-woven crown of bright pink flowers.
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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago
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The King’s precious gem...
For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics​
Hope you will enjoy this story!
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"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"
"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"
"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"
(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!
The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.
The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.
One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.
Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).
Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas. 
When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.
Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.
It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years. 
As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:
"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"
Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne. 
The monarch talked with a guard:
"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."
"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.
Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:
"Come here, my love."
"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.
Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.
"I am glad that you find some time for me."
"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."
The elf king sighed.
"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."
"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."
Thranduil scoffed.
"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."
"Let see..."
Suddenly, a guard shouted:
"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"
"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.
"We'll see in time..."
Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.
But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.
"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"
The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:
"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."
As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.
"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.
"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.
"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.
All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.
The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.
"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.
"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.
As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.
Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).
"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."
"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."
Suddenly, (Y/N)  noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:
"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."
Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."
"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."
Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:
"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."
The King consort asked, amused:
"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"
Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:
"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."
"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."
Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:
"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"
"What is it, Mister Baggins?"
"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."
The King consort smiled:
"Did they ask for something in particular?"
"Not really."
"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks. 
Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.
"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."
The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift. 
He stammered:
"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"
"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."
(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.
Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil. 
He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:
"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."
"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."
The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.
Clearing his throat, he asked:
"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"
"Of course. What is it?"
To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:
"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"
All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.
As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.
"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"
Smirking, Fili declaimed:
"Like a battering ram,
Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.
Like a sharpened sword,
Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.
Like an arrow,
Your voice pierced me to the core.
And like a defeated army,
I surrender to the love I feel for you."
"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).
"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.
"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.
Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:
"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"
"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.
Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.
"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.
Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.
As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.
Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):
"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."
"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"
"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.
When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:
"Then, I know what I have to do..."
"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.
"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.
They were not out of the woods!
"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"
"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.
"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.
As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!
"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"
Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.
"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"
"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.
"What do you mean?"
"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"
"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.
"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.
"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.
"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.
"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.
"And why?"
"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"
"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"
"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.
"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.
All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.
"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.
All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.
Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:
"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"
"But..." protested Thorin.
"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"
As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.
He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:
"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"
The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.
"I am all ears, (Y/N)."
"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life. 
I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No. 
Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."
Fili sighed.
"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"
"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."
"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.
"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.
"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.
A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.
As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):
"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"
"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.
Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:
"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"
"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"
"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"
Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:
"But you know I would never leave you, right?"
The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.
"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."
He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room. 
On their way, the king asked:
"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."
"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."
Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.
"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"
Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment. 
And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem. 
Long live the kings...
Thanks for the reading!
I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!
See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍
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andrewmoocow · 3 years ago
Text
Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 28: Fusion Frenzy (originally published on October 4, 2021)
AN: It's fusion time everyone! Last time, Black Rutile initiated Phase 2 of her new plan to eradicate her enemies by interrupting the President's emergency address and now, she's on her way to Beach City as we speak to begin Phase 3. Can the Crystal Gems stop this monster and save both Steven & the Earth? Find out today on Steven Universe Alternate Future!
Synopsis: Bluebird Azurite, Black Rutile & White Topaz return to capture Steven.
Cast:
Zach Callison as Monster Steven, Watermelon Stevens
Estelle as Garnet
Michaela Dietz as Amethyst
Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Volleyball, Mega Pearl
Grace Rolek as Connie/Future Connie
Tom Scharpling as Greg
Shelby Rabara as Peridot/Future Peridot
Jennifer Paz as Lapis
Uzo Aduba as Bismuth/Future Bismuth
Kimberly Brooks as Jasper
Noël Wells as Black Rutile/Future Black Rutile
Lauren Ash as White Topaz
Della Saba as Aquamarine
Charlyne Yi as Eyeball
Larissa Gallagher as Bluebird Azurite
Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond
Lisa Hannigan as Blue Diamond
Christine Ebersole as White Diamond
Sarah Stiles as Spinel
Aparna Nancherla as Lemon Jade
Erica Luttrell as Future Sapphire
Lin-Manuel Miranda as President Eduardo Suarez
Wendie Malick as Vice President Theresa Maxwell
GZA as Major General Wade Grant
Aimee Mann as Opal
Billie Eilish as Turquoise
Esme Bianco as Malachite
Catherine Tate as Lepidolite
Toks Olagundoye as Nanafua
--
Closed off from the chaos outside, Jasper remained curled up in the bathtub, sobbing quietly over being rejected by her Diamond, over how nothing seemed to go right for her on Earth, and how she'd rather have gone back to Homeworld with the Diamonds rather than stay with all the other healed Gems. However, her misery wouldn't last any longer.
"Can you keep it down?! I'm trying to mope!" Jasper bellowed before she finally burst from the bathroom and marched on outside as she heard roaring from the beach. However, what she saw was a shocking sight. "What is that?"
"Is that you Jasper?" Lapis exclaimed as she hovered over to her orange frenemy. "Where have you been this whole time, you'd be pretty useful here but it seems like you don't want to!"
"I was busy being depressed, brat." Jasper snarled at Lapis. "Depressed over how my Diamond left me again. Now where is he? I want to give him a piece of my mind!"
"Funny you should mention that," Peridot replied loudly. "That monster thing is Steven!"
"You're kidding!" Jasper replied before she began sounding more insecure. "Please tell me you're kidding and that this isn't all my fault because he shattered me, I'm begging you guys!"
"Are you okay?" Pearl asked the big Quartz as Lapis brought Jasper over to the Gems. "You're sounding a bit more frantic than usual."
"Sorry," Jasper began, cringing at the thought of apologizing for something she did. "I just think this might be my fault, since because of me he went mad with power and shattered me."
"It's not your fault Jasper," Garnet said comfortingly. "I think we all might be to blame here. But it could be worse." The fusion followed up by kissing Jasper on the forehead, much to her disgust.
"Ew, what did you do to me?!" Jasper yelped in disgust as she harshly rubbed at her forehead before her vision began to distort. "Wait, what's-"
--
What Jasper then saw was not a beautiful seaside where a monster stormed about, but the remnants of Little Homeworld, now reduced to ruins in the middle of a desolate wasteland. As far as she could see, no life could be seen for miles, all except for a ragtag band of survivors finding their way in this apocalyptic future.
"Any sign of He Who Must Not Be Named yet?" the possible future version of Peridot, easily distinguished from her regular self through wearing Pearl's blazer, asked a young adult version of Connie.
"No, thankfully." Connie said as she looked through the skies with her binoculars. "But we gotta move at some point, he could be here at any moment now!"
"No, I say we stay and fight!" Bismuth declared. "I don't care if that's still Steven, you all seen what he did to our friends!" she added despondently. "Ruby, Amethyst, Pearl, Lapis, they're all gone now, all thanks to him!"
"Bismuth, you're being irrational." Sapphire calmed the blacksmith down. "But I do agree, there's no future I see where we calm Steven down and rebuild society."
"Well, let him come." Peridot stated tiredly. "Anything to be with Lapis again. I'm just so tired of fighting."
As the surviving Crystal Gems bowed their heads in shame of how powerless they were to save their loved ones, a hoarse, piercing laugh rang out, causing the four to take up arms against whatever foe crossed their path. That foe in question turned out to be Black Rutile, now without her cape and her visor showed many visible cracks.
"Ah, yes." Black Rutile said as her laughing turned into smirking. "Tired of something you barely even did to begin with. Maybe if you two weren't tossed to the side after the Cluster and reduced to a comic relief role, that little witch could've stood a better chance."
"Be very careful with what you say next." Connie threatened the Rutile by pointing her sword straight at her gem.
"Oh come now Mama-Say-Mama-Sah-Warren, I've lost people too." Black Rutile grinned while lowering the sword. "I've lost people too. Heck, you saw how Steven killed my old gang, and now he's after me too for all I've done."
"Well frankly, you had it coming for all that." Bismuth responded before turning her finger into a spike. "Now pipe down while I smash you to pieces."
"Bismuth, stop." Connie advised Bismuth. "I think she might be our best chance at surviving yet."
"Are you serious?!" Peridot shrieked in defiance. "It's all because of her that Steven went nuts, shattered Jasper, and then started rampaging across the planet and maybe beyond! All our friends and family are dead because of Black Rutile, and you think she might help us?!"
"We kept you around despite being a Homeworld loyalist." Sapphire told Peridot.
"So anyways, you might be our best chance at stopping Steven." Connie said to Black Rutile before sticking her hand out. "You in?"
"I'm going to assume that if I don't play by your rules, I'll pay with my life?" Black Rutile asked as she shook the human's hand.
"You bet." Connie answered. "When I found White Topaz before Steven shattered her, she begged me, with her last words that when I'd kill you, and make no mistake I will kill you, I'll give you the slowest and most painful death I can offer. And if you try and run away, I'm going to honor that promise."
As the handshake broke, Black Rutile was left completely speechless at both Connie's death threat and her late bodyguard having the audacity to wish death upon her. Before long, her silence was broken by another bout of maniacal laughter at Connie's expense. "Honor? Really kid?" Black Rutile declared. "You know we live in a society, or at least what's left of one, where honor is but a distant memory."
"You talk too much, you know that?" Sapphire snarked before she received another future vision, one that might spell their doom. "My stars, he's coming!"
While Connie, Peridot, Bismuth, and Sapphire prepared for the fight of their lives, Black Rutile looked up at the pink-colored sonic boom in the sky and laughed as a pink glowing figure landed on the ground in front of the rebels, the resulting impact causing more destruction to Little Homeworld.
Connie pointed her sword at their opponent, and her face softened upon discovering who it was. A pink, gargoyle-like monster whose size was equal to Bismuth's with massive horns on his head, scars on his chest forming a star, and a pink gem on his stomach.
"Steven?"
--
"So all that could've happened, because of me?" Jasper despaired as she was returned to the present day before dropping to her knees. "You were right, I am nothing but trouble."
"Okay, maybe you are, but you can still change." Amethyst rejected Jasper's notion. "And you can start by helping us stop him!" She then pointed to the pink monster, who took one look at Jasper and began to run away from her, no doubt the Steven inside it afraid to see Jasper again after killing her.
"Hey, get back here!" Jasper yelled as Steven tried to run straight towards Beach City.
"It's gonna smash Beach City!" Amethyst yelled. "We gotta stop him!" Without even a chance to be asked, Lapis summoned a water rope that she used to lasso Steven and drag him away from Beach City.
"So, is there any way to fix him?" Jasper asked.
"None that we know of so far." Garnet replied. "Not even the Diamonds could solve this problem."
"And now, I don't think there's anything we can do." Pearl declared.
"Anything, except surrender." Black Rutile declared as she, White Topaz, Aquamarine, and Eyeball dropped down from and stood before the group with an army of robots behind them. "Oh look, everyone is here! We got the insipid oppressors, their mindless sheep, and the sorry excuses for monarchs!"
"What's your game Black Rutile?" White Diamond angrily asked her former subordinate.
"It's quite simple really." Black Rutile replied. "Thanks to yours truly, all of you are now enemies of humanity for allowing this to happen!" She pointed at Steven. "And not just your little monster problem, but for all the horrible things you've done to this planet! And all while you were too busy crying like babies for the brat."
"Yeesh, someone likes to talk." Spinel murmured.
"Zip it, playmate!" Aquamarine declared. "Once all of you are out of the way, our master shall claim this galaxy as her own!"
"And maybe become one of the great Universal Lords!" Eyeball added.
--
All across the world, riots began breaking out over Black Rutile's broadcast. Picket signs were made, effigies were burned, and calls were made to eliminate the Crystal Gems' threat to humanity, even though not a single one of them knew of their existence before today.
In Washington, Theresa was showing Suarez a livestream on her phone of a group of people in Russia cursing in their native language of how the Gems deprived them of their ancestors' native land, leaving the president more depressed over the incident just as Wade strolled into the Oval Office.
"I just got off the phone with Prime Minister Sorayama." Major General Grant said. "He's saying the cabinet of Japan is ready to launch everything they've got against the monster and the Crystal Gems. They just need you to give the okay."
"No, we are not nuking anything!" Eduardo screamed, making the vice president and the major general jump a bit. "I know the Gems are good, kind people, but is it really true they're responsible for all that? And who's this Pink Diamond anyway?"
"I know they're your friends Mr. President, but what friends places the world in danger so many times, the only one to address that is another member of their species?" Grant asked. "It's your choice, sir. Your friends or your country?"
"He raises a pretty good point, sir." Theresa stated. "What's it gonna be?"
After wiping a few tears from his eyes, Eduardo turned to face the window behind him and made his decision. "Major General, tell Japan to call off the attack. Because we're doing it ourselves."
--
Back in Beach City, Black Rutile continued her speech to the Gems. "Look at all of this." She declared. "This is the chaos I've wanted to engender for so long. I wanted to build a new Homeworld order where you failed, but you chose Steven over your own people just because he's family." As Black Rutile continued speaking, she could feel her sanity begin to teeter off the edge more and more. "My purpose was to fight for the Gems, that is the sole purpose I was given. And now, I barely have any people left. That is what you have taken from me. That is what you have taken from EVERYONE!"
"That is where you're wrong!" Pearl boasted in reply. "You may think you're a misunderstood hero, but you're not! You're nothing more than a sociopathic, bloviating monster who only thinks that she's doing what's best for everyone! As actual heroes, we'll fight to stop you till our last breath, because we are the Crystal Gems and we'll always save the day!"
With that, Pearl took Amethyst's hand and the two merged into Opal, who pulled out her bow and fired an arrow at Black Rutile, who only moved her head an inch to the right to dodge it.
"Oh, fusions, eh?" Black Rutile snickered. "I guess we should even the odds then." She then turned to White Topaz. "Topaz, to me!"
"Right away my Rutile." White Topaz sadly complied and fused with Black Rutile to once again form Lepidolite.
"BEHOLD PEONS!" Lepidolite declared bombastically. "THE UNPARALLELED, UNIMAGINABLY ALMIGHTY LEPIDOLITE HAS FINALLY RETURNED!"
"Oh geez, she can fuse too?" Lapis snarled before turning to Jasper. "Hey Jasper, wanna join in?"
"Whatever." Jasper said and the two formed into the turquoise and gold-colored Malachite.
"Well, you know what to do Eyeball." Aquamarine said as she took the Ruby's hand and twirled in place before they formed Bluebird Azurite and unsheathed her ice cutlass & a flaming saber.
"Gems, now!" Garnet gave the order to attack and led the charge against the four rebels. However, Greg was feeling a little left out.
"Uh, what about me?" Greg asked as the battle began. "If only I could still make Steg." However, Greg quickly saw Lion rising beneath him and making the father ride on his back. "Oh, well that should suffice." Greg smiled before he made Lion gallop into combat. "WOLVERINES!"
--
Lepidolite roared as she threw a punch at Malachite, who caught it in one of her hands and fought back by launching a geyser at Lepidolite's face, sending her flying towards Peridot, who sent Bismuth soaring before the rainbow Gem smacked Lepidolite into the sand with her hammer.
"Feeling a little outmatched?" Malachite boasted with her arms folded.
"Child's play!" Lepidolite growled while summoning her claws and slashing Malachite in the torso. However, Malachite quickly grabbed Lepidolite by the arms and summoned Jasper's crash helmet to give her a nasty headbutt. "Topaz, what are you doing?" the Black Rutile half of Lepidolite asked. "Pull your weight and help me here!"
"But it's the four of us against all the Crystal Gems, the Diamonds, and even a Spinel!" the White Topaz half replied as Malachite began punching Lepidolite at rapid speed. "We're so outmatched here, let's just un-fuse and surrender so we won't have to risk our lives against such an unfair numbers advantage."
"Oh shut up!" Black Rutile yelled before Lepidolite received another punch to the face. However, Lepidolite just as quickly stabbed Malachite with her claws and slowly dragged them up her torso up to her face, hitting both Lapis & Jasper's gems and causing them to un-fuse.
"I got you guys!" Greg shouted as Lion leaped up and he caught the two Gems on his back. Lion then followed up with a roar aimed straight at Bluebird while she was fighting Opal, who was sent flying towards Spinel.
"Comin' at ya!" Spinel exclaimed before she began dribbling Bluebird like a basketball and flung her at some of Black Rutile's robot minions, who were firing at the Diamonds.
"Well, at least we tried with Malachite." Lapis said while getting up before she turned to Peridot. "Hey Peridot, wanna give it a shot!"
"Gladly!" Peridot exclaimed and raced over to her bestie.
"Wait, what?" Jasper asked as she watched her former cohorts fuse into Turquoise. "Since when can you do that?!"
"Don't ask, just fight!" Turquoise declared while forming a set of three swords out of liquid metal from the air to use, two in her hands and one between her teeth.
"Right." Jasper agreed as she prepared to charge. "Let's kill her properly this time."
--
Amid the chaos, Volleyball and Lemon Jade were left trying to escape harm with no idea what to do in battle, as they had never engaged in combat before.
"What are we going to do?!" Lemon Jade yelled while shaking Pink Pearl in her hands.
"I have no idea!" Volleyball replied. "I did fuse before, but it wasn't really for fighting an enemy." That was when she got an idea. "Wait, hold on!"
Volleyball ran towards Opal, who was busy shooting down Black Rutile's robots with her arrows when she felt something pulling down at her drape. "Oh, do you need something Volleyball?"
"Can I fuse with you Pearl so I can protect Jade?" Volleyball asked Opal.
"In the middle of something, but that's a definite possibility." Opal replied, unaware of the robot that was now hovering behind her.
"TARGET OPAL CONFIRMED. COMMENCE UN-FUSING." The robot droned and sent out an electric shock that forced Opal back into Pearl & Amethyst.
"Well ain't that a coincidence." Amethyst snarked as the two Pearls fused into Mega Pearl. "It's like she planned for this!"
"She planned for everything Amethyst." Mega Pearl responded before slashing away at robots that were cornering Lemon Jade.
--
Meanwhile, Turquoise was engaged in a swordfight against Bluebird Azurite, her metal katanas against Bluebird's ice and fire swords. "This is what you get for taking Steven and causing Lapis to leave me!" Turquoise yelled as she tried to stab Bluebird in any opening she could find.
"Oh, did kidnapping Steven hurt you that much?" Bluebird snickered. "I wouldn't have guessed judging by how you never show up." The smaller fusion quickly disarmed Turquoise and prepared to go in for the kill, but she had another thing coming.
"Got this from a manga." Turquoise grinned cheekily while cupping all four of her hands to her side and sticking them out, launching a torrent of water at Bluebird's face.
As for the Diamonds, they were busy protecting Steven from the robots by swatting them away. "These things are multiplying by the second!" Blue said while smashing drones to the ground so that the surviving Watermelon Stevens could dismantle them. "We have to get Steven somewhere safe so we can calm him down!"
"Everyone's trying their hardest, but Black Rutile just keeps coming back up." Yellow replied.
"Don't despair, we can win this!" White added, confident that they could still win the day somehow when she spotted something in the distance. "Wait, what are those?”
--
"Get a move on everyone, we're wasting daylight here!" Wade Grant barked to his men from his Humvee as the US Army advanced towards Beach City. As their goal was only to capture the Crystal Gems, they didn't need massive tanks, only jeeps, armored vans, and helicopters to get the job done. As the seaside town grew closer and closer, some of the army men felt the need to converse among themselves.
"So, do you think it might be sexist to capture a bunch of alien women?" one of the soldiers driving an armored van asked his companion.
"I'm not sure." The other soldier replied. "From what I've heard, they only look like women. They kinda don't have any gender since they're like, holograms projected by rocks. Holograms that happen to look female."
"Yeah but are there male Gems out there somewhere?" the first soldier continued. "How do they even procreate, if possible?"
"Beats me, they don't look like they have the goods, if you catch my drift." The second soldier wiggled his eyebrows. "Y'know, nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more!"
"Yes, I catch your drift, no need to reference old-timey British comedy." The first soldier groaned before turning on the radio. "Sir, we're nearing Beach City. Permission to be the first to step out?"
"Permission granted Private Eric." Wade accepted over the radio as the two soldiers' van rolled up to Beach City, where its citizens were already evacuating.
"Excuse me, we'd like a word with the mayor of this town." Private Eric said as he and his partner stepped out.
"That's me, Mayor Pizza." Nanafua declared as she walked up to the pair. "Now what brings the military here?"
"We're on official business here Mayor Pizza." Eric stated. "Are you aware you have been housing aliens that have been threatening your planet regularly?"
"Oh, the Gems? They're pretty harmless." Nanafua laughed. "Though that giant monster is a bit concerning."
"Everyone step aside, Black Rutile has convinced us those Gems need to be placed under arrest." Wade stepped forward and prepared a special anti-Gem weapon made from the remains of the Destiny Destroyer. "We won't use lethal force against you all, but we strongly urge you to let us through if you want your planet to live."
The armed forces began marching towards the pink monster menacing Beach City as the townsfolk nervously stepped aside to allow them to pass. Though they treasured the Gems, they couldn't bear to be victims of yet another incident relating to them.
--
"Get back here!" Lepidolite roared as she chased Connie around and clashed her claws with the girl's sword. "Don't think you've won yet just because you've trained with that rotten Pearl!"
"That's what you think!" Connie yelled before she slashed at Lepidolite's arm, causing the fusion to yell.
"How can we be hurt just like that?!" the Black Rutile half of Lepidolite muttered before looking accusingly at no one in particular while beginning to destabilize. "Seriously Topaz, why can't you contribute?!"
"Seriously, can't you read my lips?!" White Topaz yelled. "I want out!" Suddenly, the two Gems split apart and fell to the ground. Black Rutile fell face-first and spat out some sand before glaring daggers at her bodyguard.
"Does it look like I care?" Black Rutile said. "Besides, we should be getting some back up real soon."
"Wait, back up?" Mega Pearl wondered before she got shot down by a weapon resembling a Gem Destabilizer and forced back into Pearl & Volleyball.
"Fan out, take down anything with a star!" Wade Grant gave out orders while his men zapped the Crystal Gems with their Destabilizer-like weapons, managing to take down Turquoise, Garnet, Amethyst, Bismuth, and Jasper before forcing them into a truck.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Jasper roared as she was herded like cattle into the truck with the other Gems.
"You're finally getting the Earth justice you deserve." Black Rutile declared smugly. "When this planet's government learned of your exploits, the leader tried to make an address that I hacked into and used to expose you to the world. Hope you enjoy confinement!"
"You won't get away with this!" Pearl yelled rebelliously before she, Volleyball, and one of the Watermelon Stevens were forced into the truck as two of the soldiers looked up at Steven and the Diamonds.
"What do we do with them?" Private Eric wondered.
"No need, I got this." Black Rutile bragged, taking Aquamarine's wand and using it to imprison the three Diamonds in a forcefield.
"Hey, you let them go!" Spinel yelled before she found herself getting trapped in the bubble as well, along with Lemon Jade.
"Uh, what is going on?" Greg asked before the major general walked up to him.
"There is no need to panic sir, we are simply following orders." Wade answered calmly. "Alright, move out! We're bringing them to Area 42!"
"Area 42?!" Connie exclaimed. "What are you going to do with them there?!"
"Just gonna ask some questions followed by deciding their fates, no big." Wade responded as he hopped into his Humvee and drove off while turning on his radio. "Gems have been captured, I repeat, Gems have been captured. Requesting a lift to Area 42 in Calivada, over."
As the military drove away with the Gems in tow, Bluebird Azurite picked up Black Rutile & White Topaz before she flew them away from the beach, the combined weight of the Diamonds, Steven, Spinel, and Lemon Jade in the bubble having no effect on her.
"So Crystal Gems," Black Rutile laughed evilly. "Who are you going to believe in now?!"
--
With the Crystal Gems in government custody, Black Rutile is just a few steps closer to victory. But what plans does she have in store for the Diamonds, what fate shall await the Crystal Gems at Area 42, and do White Topaz's loyalties still lie with Black Rutile? You're just gonna have to wait and see.
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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years ago
Text
Strangers (Pt.6)
-------------------------
As usual, Virgil hadnt slept very well, he'd been plagued throughout the night by memories that werent his, and this only worsened when he walked into the living room to see six silver necklaces on the table, each shaped as a different animal.
"JANUS- PATTON-" Virgil stood as far from the table as he could manage, backing against the wall.
"Virgil? What's wrong?-" Patton was the first to speak, rushing to Virgil's side.
"What are- what are those doing here-" Virgil whispered, pointing a shakey hand toward the necklaces.
"Relax Virgil- we're just researching them, you're still wearing the spider necklace are you not?" Janus said as he entered the room.
"I cant take it off. . ." Virgil said softly.
"We'll find a way, eventually, for now we need to research," Patton said, before walking over to the table, followed by Janus. Virgil waited a few seconds before sitting down as well.
"So what do you know so far?" Virgil said, scanning the necklaces.
Aside from the purple-eyed spider around his neck, and the red-eyed wolf Romulus possessed, he counted six other colors on the table in front of him.
A blue-eyed frog, an indigo-eyed unicorn, a yellow-eyed snake, a green-eyed kraken, a pink-eyed dear, and a black-eyed fox.
"Other than the fact that the color schemes bare a frightening resemblance to the color-coded friend group we maintain, not much," said Janus.
"So you brought more potentially cursed necklaces into the house without any idea of their relation to us." Virgil said monotonously.
"Well- we cant be sure all of them are cursed- I mean Roman's the only one acting different-" said Patton.
"That thing isnt Roman. I refuse to associate the two." Virgil growled. Patton flinched slightly and Virgil felt a guilt well up in his chest.
"Well- they all involve specific animals and colors obviously, and Romulus keeps calling me. . . Princess. . . And the girl in my dreams was slated to be royalty last I checked, so. . ." Virgil said, trying not to vomit as the word princess swam in his head in that condescending tone of Romulus'.
"The could be part of a royal court or guard! Virgil you genius!" Patton said excitedly. Virgil blushed slightly and moved to cover his face.
"I think this would be better resolved at the library," said Janus.
After an hour or two of deliberation and subsequent preparation for leaving the house, the trio found themselves huddled up in separate corners of the library.
Which, reflecting back, wasnt the best decision.
"Princess! I didnt see you home last night! I thought you promised you'd be back for dinner. . ." Virgil froze as he heard Romulus speak, he could move or think or breath or talk. All he could do was stare ahead of him and feel the tears running down his face as Romulus pulled him closer, as he felt Romulus' breath on his neck.
"You're breaking my heart again princess, I thought you loved me," Romulus whispered, he didnt sound upset.
"Let's get home, you obviously havent taken your meds," and Romulus was pulling him away from the library. It took several steps and almost reaching the door for Virgil to find his voice.
"How dare you touch me. How dare you try to act as though you missed anything more than a pretty little toy you can mock and stare at to make yourself feel better." That got the libraries attention, and, to Virgil's satisfaction, a frightened expression on Romulus' face. But something in his gut told him he hadnt been the only one speaking those words.
Soon enough Janus and Patton had emerged from their corners of the library, Patton almost toppling from the amount of books he was carrying, and Janus yet again brandishing his cane as though it were a great sword.
"I believe I told you that you werent to approach Virgil again. Was I not clear enough the first time." Janus snarled as he pulled Romulus back by the shirt.
"How many times must I tell you you have no right to keep me from my husband." Romulus snarled back.
"I am no spouse of yours." Virgil said, before storming out of the library.
He wasnt really sure where he was going, only that he was angry and tired of hiding.
And lucky for him, his affinity for shiny objects had managed to lead him to a different kind of bookshop, and a book with eight different colored gems built into the front.
"How much for this?" Virgil said, pointing to the book.
The girl behind the counter turned to look at him, white hair falling over her face.
"$250 and a free visit from the excorcist," she said, eyes slightly wide despite the vague expression of apathy.
Virgil stared for a moment before finally handing over the money. He took the book out of its case, bid the cashier goodbye, and walked away.
Now his only problem was finding a decent place to read.
"Virgil! What are you doing out here!" Virgil heard a call from none other than Remus.
"Reading-" Virgil said, he wasnt necessarily lying in that case.
"Jan! Pat! I found him!" Remus called inside before motioning for Virgil to follow. So Virgil did, and sat between Logan and Patton on the couch.
"What'd you find?" Said Janus, motioning to the book Virgil had placed on the table.
"Call Em and Remy, I think I just found our solution," Virgil said.
"Pat- you have the necklaces right?" He continued. Patton noddes and placed each on the table.
Soon enough they were joined by Emile and Remy, and they could begin to dissect the book itself.
"The Order of Terra, an elite squad originally compromised of six members, later joined by the Prince and Princess of Eirthanas, and disbanded when the Prince betrayed them all for power," Virgil started, tracing over the photo accompanying the description, though he couldnt quite make out the details.
"The leader of the order was Lord Larion Terraval, who's last name gifted the order its official title, Larion took up the unicorn necklace, which gave control of the stars, and the ability to communicate across any barrier," Virgil continued, the rest of the group gave a quick glance in Logan's direction. Which was expected, given the striking resemblance between the two, from deep blue eyes to the slight quirk of their eyebrows, it was almost as if they were twins.
"The second to join was the sister of the Prince, Duchess Remona Octavia, who took up the octopus necklace, granting control of the oceans and all their creatures," the girl shown in this picture had the same red-eyed manic expression as Remus, and even a streak of white through her hair, the only thing missing seemed to be the mustache.
"The third was a local mage, Remington Insolia, who took up the fox necklace, which granted control over sleep and disease," this man was identical to Remy in everything except the gray and white robes.
"The fourth was Jamillan Serpentes, who took up the snake necklace, and gained the abilities of hypnosis," this description was attached to a photo of a gaunt man, who looked much to stuffy to be Janus, but bared an all to familiar resemblance.
"The fifth was Emalei Primrose, a faun who took up the necklace of the deer, and gained the ability to cause mania, as well as psychic capabilities," the faun in the photo had the same pink and white heterochromia as Emile, the same broad smile, and the same curly brown and pink hair, albeit much longer.
"The sixth was Pamela Adbentes, who took up the frog necklace, and a variety of healing abilities," this was connected to a picture of a woman who looked as though she'd quite like to reach through the paper and pinch Virgil's cheek while asking if he wanted homemade cookies, which told him all he needed to know about her similarities to Patton.
Virgil felt his breath hitch as his eyes trailed over the next two entries.
"The Prince, Romulus, was meant to be the last to join, and had attempted to take up the spider necklace, only to be denied, and gifted the wolf necklace, as well as a vast knowledge of potions, poisons, and flattery," Virgil's hand went to his throat, he felt tears in his eyes as they ran over the all to familiar, all be it much less muscular, and much less huggable frame of the real Romulus.
"The final member of the Order of Terra was the most unwilling, Princess Viviana, the true bearer of the spider necklace, enforcer of nightmares, controller of the afterlife, she disappeared mere weeks before the Order of Terra was disbanded," and there she was. The lilac eyes, the long black hair. Nearly identical to the form Virgil had long since left behind.
Virgil had gotten the book to find answers, but now, now all he had was questions.
----------------------------------------------
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janeyseymour · 4 years ago
Text
Anne Boleyn: Captain of the Chaos Squad- pt11
pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6. pt 7. pt 8. pt 9. pt 10.
Title: Out of the Kitchen
Anne Boleyn was never one to step into the kitchen- Jane Seymour had made that very clear after the first debacle that took place within their house.
What began as a nice day between the third queen from the second would turn out to be an escapade neither of the women were planning on dealing with that day.
“Janey, do you want to make cookies for me?” Anne slid onto the couch next to the blonde who was watching television in peace.
“Make them for you?” The silver queen’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think so lovey.”
“W-Why not?”
“I’ll make them with you, not for you. And I do expect that the others and I will be able to enjoy some of the sweets as well?” she proposed.
The woman with space buns grinned at this. “That sounds like a good idea! What all do we need to bake cookies then?”
“You don’t know?” Jane couldn’t imagine not knowing how to bake. It came as a second nature to her. With a shake of the head from her predecessor, she began to list out the ingredients. “Flour, suga-”
“I’ll stop you right there,” the shorter woman interrupted. “We’re out of flour.”
“That’s impossible I bought some the other day for Catherine and Anna to make-”
“Do you remember when you were complaining the other day that there was just “so much dust” in the kitchen?” A smirk appeared on the green woman’s face. “When Anna brought it back to our apartment, she dropped it trying to put it in the cabinet for you.”
“You’re kidding,” Jane’s face morphed from shock to disappointment.
“‘Fraid not ol’ Janey. So, should we go to the store and get some?” Anne stood and offered a hand to her friend.
“Well, I suppose that’s just what we’ll have to do, now isn’t it?” She grabbed the hand being offered and allowed herself to be pulled off the couch.
The two found themselves at the grocery store with a basket full of flour among other baking needs. All was going well until Anne Boleyn decided to attempt to sneak other sweets into the basket without Jane noticing. And it was working. She had hidden a bag of gummy bears, a coca cola, a few packs of gum, some chocolate, and a pack of starbursts by the time they made their way up the register.
Jane was loading the groceries onto the conveyor belt when she eyed the woman accompanying her trying to grab her hidden gems and place them closer to the cashier to scan first.
“Anne Boleyn,” Jane’s voice was eerily low, low enough so that only Anne could hear her. “What have you done?”
The look Seymour was giving her alone was enough to make her tremble slightly, but along with the tone she was using? Well, the second queen knew she had made a mistake.
“Well, uh,” she scratched the back of her head as she thought of what to say. “You see, I think a little kid thought that our basket was hers and put her goodies into ours?”
“Hm,” Jane hummed. “So I suppose that this small child has all the same favorite sweets as you?” Anne nodded. “And I suppose that if I put it back, this small child wouldn’t know the difference, right?”
“Well, I mean... we don’t have to do that. We would have to get out of line and put it all back, so it’s really not worth the hassle,” the second monarch laughed nervously.
“Well, I can just tell the cashier I don’t wish to buy these add-ons. You know that dear.” The blonde’s voice was sickeningly sweet, but Anne knew the fire that was growing in her.
“Yeah, but I know you always feel bad doing that because then the workers have to put it back for you.”
“Well, you’re right I suppose. Just don’t pull any more shenanigans like this again. Understood?” Once again, her voice was dripping with honey, but it was not to be taken lightly, and the green queen knew that. With a quick nod, Jane continued to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.
The two had returned home and were getting ready to begin their adventure in baking.
“So, what’s the first step?” Anne looked at the woman in front of her curiously.
The third queen smiled softly. It was always nice to spend time with Anne. “Well love, the first step is to put on an apron. Lord knows you’re going to need it. And then I’m going to need you to wash your hands while I set everything out that we need.” And so, the two began their baking extravaganza.
“You have to level out the dry ingredients hun. If you don’t level it off, the cookies won’t bake properly.”
“Who says?”
“Me,” the woman in grey laughed while showing Boleyn how to even out the dry ingredients.
“Well,” Cathy smiled as she made her way to the coffee pot. “It’s actually a science. Chemistry.”
“That’s a better answer than yours, Janey,” Anne laughed. “So, now what?”
“Dump it into the bowl. Just make sure to do it gently because if you don’t, it’ll-” she was interrupted with a face full of flour and a nervous smile from her predecessor. “-go everywhere.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”
“It’s alright love.”
“So now that we’ve mixed the dry and wet ingredients separately, we have to mix them. Only do a little bit at a time though. Lord knows we don’t need more flour flying around the kitchen,” Jane instructed. “Think you can handle it while I clean up a bit?”
“You got it boss.” Anne mock-saluted her successor before turning to the ingredients.
“Annie, how have you only done like a quarter of the mixing?” Jane was shocked. It had taken her ten minutes to clean the various measuring spoons they had used before she had been dragged away for another ten minutes to help Katherine braid her hair.
“You told me small amounts!”
“How much have you been putting in at a time?”
“Like three of these?” the second queen held up a teaspoon. “I just didn’t want to make another mess.”
“Oh love,” Jane sighed goodheartedly. Her sweet friend was really trying. “You can do a bit more than that. Here, let me show you.” The blonde took the bowl of dry ingredients and dumped a good amount into the mixer before turning it on.
“Alright. I got it from here.”
“So now, you take a tablespoon and get some dough on it. Roll it into a ball like this, and then plop it down on the baking tray,” Jane explained as she demonstrated the first one. Anne followed her lead, and soon enough the two had a few baking trays full of cookie dough balls ready to be baked.
“You preheated the oven like I asked, right?” At the question, the green queen nodded. Surely she couldn’t have messed something as simple as pressing a few buttons up. Oh how wrong she had been.
“Wonderful love. Grab a tray and then we just have to pop these into the oven.” The third monarch picked up two trays and carried them across the kitchen. Opening the door to the oven, she was shocked to see all of their pots and pans still sitting on the racks. “Oh dear.”
“‘Oh dear’ what?” Anne glanced around the blonde. “Oh dear.”
“That’s quite alright love,” Jane assured her. “It’s an honest mistake. I’ve done it before. We’ve just got to get these out before popping the cookies in.”
A few minutes and curses later, the pots and pans had been taken out of the oven and replaced with the cookie trays.
“We have to set the timer for about eleven minutes. If they’re not done by then, we leave them for another two minutes.”
“Sounds good. Thank you for baking with me, you ol’ mom,” Anne joked as she gently pushed her friend.
“Of course sweetheart. It’s always nice to share my passions with you queens.” Jane pulled the green queen into a tight hug before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for asking me to bake with you.”
“Well, we both know if I tried to do that myself, we wouldn’t end up with cookies,” the second monarch laughed.
“I don’t doubt that what you’ve said is true,” Jane agreed in a silly manner before turning serious. “Now, while they’re in there baking, we might as well begin to clean up the mixer and bowls.”
In the middle of tidying up around the kitchen, Jane’s phone rang.
“This is Jane!” She answered the phone as happily as always.
“Seymour, it’s Cleves. My car broke down,” a rather panicked Anna of Cleves’ voice could be heard through the speaker.
“Where are you?”
“By Bryant Park. I’ve already had it towed and all that, but I don't know how I’m going to get back to my place.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen. It’s too cold to stand and wait for me, so go into the Whole Foods across the street and wait there.”
“Roger that. Thanks Seymour. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You goin’ to pick up Cleves?” Anne already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to confirm.
“I am. I trust you to not burn down the apartment in the thirty minutes I’m gone. When the timer goes off, check the cookies. If they’re golden brown, they’re done. Turn off the oven and let the cookies cool. I’ll be back soon.” The blonde pulled on her coat and made her way to the car to rescue the fourth queen.
Jane knew leaving the second queen home alone with an oven full of cookies that were bound to finish baking any minute was a risk, but she wasn’t about to let her successor freeze on her trek back to her apartment.
“Rounding the corner now,” Jane had been on the phone with the red queen. “Get ready to get in, I’m at a stoplight.”
“I see you. Unlock the door Seymour.” The blonde unlocked the car door and was hit with the bitter cold that was swirling around outside. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Not a problem Cleves,” Jane looked at the woman sympathetically. “Gosh, you must be frozen. How about you come back to my place and warm up a bit before we head back out into the cold to get you home?”
“If you and Bo are doing something though, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“It’s really not a problem. She’ll understand. And, if Annie didn’t mess it up, we should have cookies to offer you.”
“Bo baked?” the fourth monarch raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I helped direct her. She did a pretty good job. Let’s just hope she can follow through with the last bit.”
The instant the third and fourth queens entered Jane’s apartment complex, a smell of something burning hit them.
“I swear to-” Jane cut herself off. “If that’s coming from my apartment...” The two sped up their walking.
“What the hell?” The blonde threw open her door, her fears of the burning coming from her apartment being confirmed.
“I don’t know what happened!” Anne yelled frantically, the smoke from the oven still heavily present within the room. “The cookies were goo one second, so I left them in for five more minutes like you said to and-”
“Two minutes Anne! Two! On what planet do “five” and “two” sound identical?” Jane retorted as she hurried to the window and flung it open.
“Jane! It’s cold out!” the second queen protested, instantly wrapping her arms around herself.
“And our apartment is filled with smoke! It needs to be let out!”
“If you two need to be alone, I can call Cath-” Anna began.
“No!” The two women who lived in the apartment all but shouted at her, making the red queen throw her hands up in surrender.
“Okay! I’m sorry!” Cleves defended herself before making her way over to the oven and helping guide the smoke out the window.
Anne kept her eyes trained on the ground once the room was cleared, as she was determined not to let the blonde see the tears threatening to spill out, but her voice could be heard clearly saying guiltily, “I’m really sorry Janey. I didn’t mean-”
“It was a mistake Annie; it’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to almost set our apartment on fire,” she joked lightheartedly. “We just know not to do that again, yes?” With a nod from her counterpart, Jane continued. “Why don’t I whip us up some hot chocolate to warm us up? Yeah?”
“Let me,” the fourth queen offered. “It’s the least I can do for interrupting your baking together.”
“That’s very kind of you Cleves. Thank you.” Jane seemed satisfied to not have to be in the kitchen any longer. “Annie and I were just going to spend the day watching television and enjoying the warmth of our apartment if you’d like to join us before heading back home.”
“Bet,” the red monarch smirked before turning to make her infamous hot chocolate.
As the three settled on the couch, Anna of Cleves pulled a box out of her backpack.
“I assumed something like this would happen. Here’s some replacement cookies.” She opened the box and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.
“You little-” Anne howled with laughter, failing to pretend to be offended. The three plowed through the box in no time.
From then on, Anne Boleyn rarely made appearances to cook or bake in the kitchen. Sure, she ended up in that room in the apartment often to “annoy” her roommate (who would tell her it wasn’t annoying- it was nice having company while she cooked), but she would never be allowed to use any appliance other than the microwave again.
“What’s for dinner?” the green queen would ask almost every night. “Do you need any help? Can I put anything in the oven for you?” she would ask in a joking fashion.
“Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen,” the blonde would reply without even looking up from whatever she was preparing for supper that day.
It was probably better that way.
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heyyyharry · 5 years ago
Text
Last chapter: Heavy Is The Crown
(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)
…in which the end is a new beginning.
Warning: SMUT
Word count: 6.1k
AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.
Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.
Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)
The epilogue and synopsis of the sequel is at the end of this chapter :) Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
.
.
.
Kenny started at the sound of the door creaking open and whipped her head around to find Stefan peering in. The fire cast an eerie shadow of her upon the wall, making him look more like a small and helpless child than the master of his own house.
“Sorry, I should have knocked,” he said.
“It’s okay.” She sat up straight and folded her hands on top of her knees. Stefan still idled at the door. She nodded her head toward the other seat in front of the fire, trying to suppress a smile. “Come sit with me. This is your house, Stef.”
“It is, yeah,” he chuckled, kicked the door close and shook his head as if he hadn’t meant to forget this was his house. She watched as he dropped heavily into the chair facing hers. They both started talking at the same time and both looked away. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other in person. She stifled a laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Y-You first.”
She pressed her lips into a smile. “I was just going to say thank you for letting me stay.”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?” His eyes disappeared into two lovely curves, but as soon as he leaned back into the chair, his face shadowed grimly. “I was going to say,” he added, “that I’m so sorry for what you had to go through.”
Kenny’s smile wavered a little. “It’s all right now. I’m safe here with you.”
She could never tell poor Stefan that every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dead bodies of her husband and the man in the black cloak lying at her feet. She’d murdered someone and seen Harry murder someone. Those two deaths would stick with her forever, and maybe she deserved that punishment for having broken her vows and married someone else, or maybe it was for her jealousy and the wicked thoughts she’d had about the Princess of the North without even knowing the girl.
She waited for Stefan to say something, and when he didn’t, she broke the silence. “Where do you think Harry is now?”
Stefan drew a breath. “Probably at the North castle, or close.” And regarded with her curious eyes. “So are you two…”
“No, not anymore.” She cleared her throat. “I wish him happiness with whoever he falls in love with.”
“He must get over the Princess first,” Stefan said.
“Yes,” Kenny sadly agreed. “He must. But I don’t think he can.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I wish he’d stayed with us,” Stefan said regretfully. “He could be happy here.”
Instead of telling her friend she also missed Harry and wished that he’d never left, Kenny let the silence descend. The dancing flame hypnotized her, and she allowed herself to get lost in it for a moment until she heard Stefan shifting in his chair. When she cast a glance at him, he was holding out something shiny.
“I almost forgot. Harry left this for you.”
It was the gold hairpin, which she had already given back to him on the night she’d asked him to run away and he’d turned her down.
Reluctantly, she took it with both hands and held it like it was made of glass. The gems and the gold flickered like stars in the firelight. For a second, she dared to imagine herself as a little girl and tried to recall the happiness she’d felt when she’d received it. The very first gift from her very first love.
“He told me,” Stefan went on, “that he couldn’t keep it. Because when he gave it to you and you accepted it, it was yours and yours forever. You could either sell it and open your own sewing business here, or you could keep it and remember him.”
Kenny closed her fingers around the jewellery and pressed it against her heart. Her eyes found Stefan’s face, and she realized she was looking at him through the tears. “Oh, I hope he’s safe and warm now, Stefan. I hope he’s not hurt.”
Stefan reached for her hand and held it tight. “He’s Harry. Nothing and no one could hurt him.”
.
.
.
“That hurts, Peach! Why would you do that?!” Harry cried out as he leapt away from the bed. The left side of his face still stung from the force of Y/N’s hand.
The Princess flung right at him and shoved him so hard his armour clanged as he stumbled backwards and caught the bed-post to keep himself standing. She took another step then stalled at the dagger pointed at her.
Maybe this wasn’t his princess. Did she have a twin? It would be so fucked up if she had a twin. No, she couldn’t have a twin. It was she who’d shouted his name in the garden.
Her eyes gleamed with rage as her voice lowered dangerously. “Give me the dagger, Harry.”
She knew his name! She was his Peach!
Half of Harry was relieved, while the other half trembled at the black look she was giving him. She advanced and he immediately stepped back, holding up his free hand. “I will, if you promise not to attack me.”
Her jaw dropped. “You snuck up on me! You attacked me!”
“You attacked me first! I wanted to surprise you and you almost stabbed me! What the fuck was that?”
“You pinned me to the bed and held my weapon at my throat!”
“That was self-defence!” he retorted, but when he saw tears welling up in her eyes, he dropped the dagger and flew right toward her. She didn’t scream or kick or punch him as he tugged her into him and locked his arms tightly around her shoulders. She hugged him back, and he hated that this armour kept him from feeling her warmth.
They stayed like that until she pulled away and blinked up at him, tears still hanging on her long lashes. “Did I really hurt you?” she asked.
He bared his teeth. “Do I still have perfect teeth?”
“Yes,” she replied, amused.
“Then no. You didn’t really hurt me.”
“Would you have hurt me?”
“I can’t believe you asked me that. Of course not.”
“Really?” Her eyebrow rose. “Not even if I’d called the guards.”
“You’ve got no guard here. Your prince had sent all the guards to the ballroom to protect you. Except for this one.” He gestured smugly at the armour and shushed her before she scolded him. “Don’t worry. I didn’t kill him. He was drunk and I knocked him out. He’ll wake up naked in a random room somewhere.”
“My prince?”
“I don’t know.” He mimicked her tentative expression. “You tell me. You let him hold you and cried on his shoulder. He’s also very princely, which is irritating.”
“Princely,” she echoed with a soft laugh. The sound was as sweet as honey. Until this very moment, Harry hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. His heart swelled as he laced their fingers together and took half a step back to take in her new look. She smiled when she noticed his expression; he supposed it wasn’t what she’d expected.
“What?” She smirked.
“You,” he said, still eyeing her up and down.
“Me what?”
Instead of answering the question, Harry moved closer. Their eyes locked as he reached behind her to untie her braids. She didn’t protest as he freed her hair which fell messily down to her back. He tousled it and dipped his fingers underneath her chin, observing.
“There.” He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
With an unreadable expression, she asked, “You don’t like how I looked before?”
He was taken aback. She seemed to notice the slight change in his expression because her smile faded as well.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You looked beautiful. But so...untouchable.”
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
He worked his jaw for a moment, trying to come up with the right words, but the ones that came out could not sound more wrong. “You looked like you belonged to that Prince.”
Y/N tossed his hand away, and before he could speak, she had marched across the room to the window, facing away from him. He clasped his hands together at the nape of his neck while the voices in his head started cursing at him. Since the moment he’d got here, he’d made the girl he loved cry twice, held a knife at her throat, got slapped, and insulted her. This night had gone quite far from those romantic fantasies of his.
He strode toward her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but then he faltered and hid both hands behind his back. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry if I offended you. That wasn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean, Harry?” Her hair lashed the air as she spun to face him. “And why are you here? If you, just like everyone else, assume that I’m betrothed to Lance now, what is the point of showing up in my bed-chamber?”
He gulped and squeezed his hands into fists. His gaze fell to the floor. “Because I had to see you once before I go.”
She stood rigid in front of him. When his eyes found her face again, she was pale with shock. “Going away?” Her voice trembled like it was going to break. “To where?”
“I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder, his mouth twitched. “I can’t stay. But if I disappeared without saying goodbye to you, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”
Tears shone in Y/N’s eyes as she moved closer and caught his face between her hands. “You are not leaving. I forbid you. You are not going anywhere!”
“Peach–”
“You’re staying here with me. I’m never letting you go again.”
Seeing her like this made him regret coming here. He should have known better, that once he’d seen her cry, he could never leave; he would spend the rest of his life going back to this moment and this room.
He held both of her wrists and his thumbs found her violent pulse. “You’re...a queen, my love. Even saying that hurts me. You can’t be with me. I’m not worried about me, but your people would turn against you if they found out about us.”
Y/N’s lashes fluttered as she blinked back her tears. He knew that she knew he was right. Her coronation was in a week. She’d be a monarch. But even with all the power in the world, she could not bend the rules to her own advantage without losing her people’s loyalty. It was either him or Isolde, and he did not want it to be him.
“You can stay here in my court,” she said, hopefully. “I’ll make you a guard. You’re better than most of them anyway. Then...then we can be together in secret. No one has to know.”
‘No one has to know.’ That reality stabbed him like a knife, and he hated himself for allowing a tiny spark of joy before it occurred to him that her idea would ruin him if not both of them.
“I’d have to watch you marry a prince.”
He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until she shook her head and retorted, “I won’t. I’ll never marry. I can’t–” Her voice suddenly dropped. Her expression dimmed. “I can’t carry a child, so a marriage would be pointless.”
Something stirred uneasily within Harry as he pondered over the words she’d just said. He thought he’d misheard it, and when he realized that they were real, he released a shaky breath and brought their foreheads together.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her cool cheek. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
A bitter laugh caught in her throat. “You’re not going to ask me how I know that?”
“You would have already told me if you wanted to talk about it,” he sighed.
She didn’t say it wasn’t true. Instead, she fisted his shirt and buried her face into his neck. “Just don’t go. I can’t do this alone.”
“Peach–” he began, but instead of pushing her away, he held her tighter. She started kissing his neck, her fingers tugging roughly at his hair, and soon their lips found each other and he could taste the salt in that fiery kiss. Her arms bound around his neck as he pushed her against the wall and tilted her head back with his fingers wrapped gently around her throat. She let out a soft sigh as he licked and nibbled at her flushed skin.
“Will you stay?” she murmured.
“Yes.” His reply sounded like a promise he would regret later on, but right now, it was what they both wanted.
He kissed her, again and again, to make up for their lost time, and when he forced her away, she almost shouted, “What?!”
Breathless, he knocked on the breastplate of his armour. “Do you know how to take this thing off?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, hard, and shoved him back. Before he could utter a single word, she dragged him toward the bed, pushed him down and sank to the floor. He propped himself up to stare owl-eyed at her aggressively tearing off each piece and tossing it aside.
“How do you know this? Did you fight in the army, too?”
She shot him a glare. “No, I helped undress my father every time he came back wounded from a battle.”
Once she’d opened the buckles and released the breastplate, she bunched up her skirt, pinned him down and mounted him as easily as she did Thunder. He swept his palms up and down her back, feeling the soft and expensive fabric that he’d never thought he’d get to touch. He’d never dreamed of kissing a Queen either, yet here he was.
“If you don’t know how to wear armour, you probably don’t deserve it,” she said, a smirk peaking at the corner of her lips. Then she kissed him again. He pushed himself up to feel her as much as he could, but her dress was too big, it was swallowing them both.
He broke the kiss to say, “Can you also demonstrate how to take off your dress?”
She scowled at him, their mouths just a feather apart. “I don’t know how. The maids helped me put it on.”
“Do you love it?”
His question startled her a bit. She tilted her head and looked at him funny. “Well, not really. It’s quite uncomf–Ah!” A shriek escaped her when he flipped them over and slipped off the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows just in time he picked up her dagger from the floor.
Realization seemed to dawn on her as she opened her mouth, yet Harry did not wait. He ripped the first layer of her skirt and yanked it right off. She gasped, her eyes flying to his face, wide with shock yet darkened with lust. He waited for her to kick him off, but she just gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling with each struggled breath. And so he tore off another layer until her thighs were exposed. She was about to say something when one flick of the blade slid precisely down her bodice, cutting through the fabric and laces of the corset and her breasts sprung free, bouncing beneath his wild eyes.
She gaped at him, half angry, half impressed, then forestalled his speech by pulling his mouth back upon hers. He palmed her breast, trying not to think about her bruises and the freshly healed wound on her bicep. He hated to imagine the torture and grief she’d gone through.
“I might regret this later,” she said into his mouth, and he smiled.
“One who doesn’t know how to take off her own dress probably doesn’t deserve it.”
Y/N threw her head back and laughed for the first time tonight. As Harry sat back to discard his shirt, she stared at him thoughtfully.
“What?” He leaned back down, arms cradling her head, their noses touching.
Her mouth curved lightly. “Not fair. I was looking forward to destroying your shirt.”
“Life’s not fair,” he said before locking his lips to hers again.
The warmth of her ruined dress enveloped them as she worked quickly at his belt, and soon his trousers were off and there was nothing else keeping them apart. She curled her fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down her scarred body until he nosed along her hip bone and pressed his lips to her skin. She angled her hips up for him. She was already dripping as he took his time licking a line from her thigh to her pussy, before he sucked on her clit and pushed two fingers into her.
She moaned, holding his head firmly between her legs. His cock hardened at the sounds she made and the squish of her pussy around his fingers. He sucked and slurped at her, pushing her legs farther apart until she had one calf over his shoulder. She surprised him by grabbing her other knee, opening up for him.
He slid his free hand along the curves of her body and gripped at her breast, brushing his thumb over her hard nipple as he tried to press his tongue between his fingers, his nose rubbing around her clit. She dug her heel into his back and pulled him in tighter until all he smelled and tasted and heard was her.
He fucked her slow and slurped up her wetness for a moment before withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. She was gaping at him, eyes a little wet, a flush spreading across her chest, up to her ears.
“You did miss me,” she murmured.
“So much,” he told her and moved forward between her legs, pushing her knees up to her breasts and sank into her easily. She half-sighed, half-moaned and craned her neck to kiss him. Her hands were on the back of his neck and his hands found her breasts between them. As they kissed, she moved her hips up to fuck up into him while he thrust down into her, trying to be as careful as possible for her wound might still hurt.
“I’ll love you forever,” she whispered into his ear before he caught her lips again and sucked at them. He knew she'd have to be able to taste herself on his mouth as her arousal was slick around him. He leaned down to suck at her nipples, biting lightly at her breasts.
“I’ll love you forever, too. Forever and always,” he said between thrusts, grinding his cock as deep into her as it could go as she encouraged him with her moans and nails scratching down his back. He slid his hand down to her pussy and rubbed along her clit, joining her fingers there. She thrust back against him immediately, fucking herself harder on his dick, her arse pushing against his groin.
He was mouthing along the side of her neck when she came. Her hips shook and her clutch tightened around him, and then he fucked her a while longer, just a little more, knowing this would ruin his only attempt to move on and leave her to the life he didn’t belong to. He came, muffling his embarrassing groans in her shoulder as he spilled into her and fucked his release deeper with every thrust, until he only jerked with the little aftershocks and eventually slipped out.
The room quieted. The North wind blowing through the window gap cooled their damp skin. He threw the cover over them, still on top of her because she refused to let him go. He didn’t want to go, either. What would happen to them in the morning? He did not want to wonder.
He was nosing at her throat when a knock on the door sounded, making them jump.
“Y/N,” spoke a female voice, “Are you all right? Prince Charming told me you didn’t feel well.”
Y/N raised her head and shouted at the door, “I’m fine! Don’t come in. I’m going to bed.”
Harry could hear the violent rhythm of her heart as she waited for a response.
“Goodnight then,” said the voice, “I’ll come back in the morning with your breakfast.” Her shadow wavered under the door before disappearing.
Harry chuckled and kissed Y/N’s jaw as she placed a hand on her chest and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Was that your lady in waiting?” he asked.
“And my best friend,” she replied.
“Well, your friend sounded like she hated the Prince. Maybe we could be great friends.”
Y/N giggled and shook her head. “If she hates the Prince, she’d probably hate you, too.”
Harry wondered why; it seemed like there was more she’d like to add, but he supposed she was too weary for stories so he didn’t question.
“Stay until morning,” she demanded, twirling one of his curls around her index finger. “You can put the armour back on before my maid comes back. I’ll take care of the rest. Please don’t let me sleep alone. I’ll have nightmares again.”
Harry raised his head to peer down at her face as he brushed his thumb over her half-closed eyelids. “Don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
He flipped over onto his back and gathered her to his chest. Y/N didn’t sleep right away. She began to tell him everything that had happened since they’d parted. Some details he’d already known from the gossip spreading among her people, like the duel and Egon’s death and how a witch had brought Jo back to life. Some other details shocked him, like the bargain she’d made with the witch, and the Prince, who had murdered his half-brother, asking for her hand in marriage to secure their alliance.
With a troubled heart, he watched her face in the fire glow until her tale came to an end and her breathing steadied. Eventually, the whistling of the wind and the crackling of fire lulled Harry to sleep.
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Y/N awoke when a spiteful winter gust slammed the window violently. She’d had a dreamless sleep for the first time in so long, but as she woke up beside her ruined ball gown to a grey morning and an empty bed, she wished she could just go back to sleep.
Her eyes flicked frantically around her bed-chamber. Where was he? Where was Harry? The armour was there, while every trace of him was gone.
Fear filled her up like a bubble as she rolled out of bed, put on her nightgown and a heavy fur coat, shoved her feet into her riding boots and ran out into the long corridor, terrified. She hadn’t been terrified since Jo’s death, then Harry came back and now she had too much to lose. 
Maybe she’d already lost it.
A small part of her hoped that he hadn’t gone for long and that she could still catch up with him at the gate. This time, she would at least knock him unconscious for lying to her face and playing with her heart.
As she swept past the throne room, loud familiar voices pulled her to a halt. The guards bowed as they saw her and opened the door for her to enter. This was the worst situation she’d ever walked into. Lance was standing beside her throne accompanied by only two of his guards. He was wearing his fancy black suit and black fur coat with a sword strapped to his right hip. His shiny raven hair was uncombed yet as perfect as it could be, and his stern gaze was fixed upon the man kneeling before him.
Harry.
His was the first pair of eyes in the room to catch Y/N’s, and his shocked expression got three other heads turning to the door.
“There you are, Your Majesty,” Lance spoke, his voice rough and echoey as if he was presenting a show. “I wasn’t sure if I should send a servant to wake you but I was going to anyway.”
“What is happening here?” she asked and strode up the steps to her throne.
Lance eyed her up and down, making her conscious of the fact that she wasn’t properly dressed. The humour was etched on his face, yet he made no snarky remark and motioned to Harry. “That happened.”
“Let this man go. He’s my servant,” Y/N commanded the two guards behind Harry, only to realize they weren’t holding him down; he was kneeling on his own. He didn’t even seem scared or worried. Maybe a bit guilty, but it was because of her presence.
What was happening?
“Actually,” Lance said, “he came to me on his own. Showed up in my room at dawn. Can you believe it?”
“What?!” she cried out, her eyes pinned on Harry.
He did not speak.
“Yes,” Lance answered on her lover’s behalf, one elbow resting casually on the side of the throne. “Did you say he was your servant?”
She cast a tentative glare at him. “Yes?”
“Then why did he ask to join my army?”
Y/N started, and then her head burnt with rage. She was angrier than she was confused for she had no idea what was happening and why Harry had snuck into Lance’s chamber and asked to join his army. Harry had not said a word to her about this plan (if this was a plan). If she didn’t love him, she’d probably let Lance’s guards beat him up.
“He did not know what he was talking about,” she said, glaring at Harry.
She did not expect him to speak, but then he rose to his feet and told the Prince, “I do know what I’m talking about. I wish to join your army if your men still want to fight for my Queen and Isolde.” Then his gaze flicked to Y/N for a brief second. “I knew Her Majesty wouldn’t allow me to join her army so I came to you, Your Grace. Once again, I apologize for the chaos.”
Chaos?
“Yeah, right, I forgot to tell you.” Lance nudged Y/N slightly with his knuckles. “Your servant somehow managed to disarm ten of my guards to get into my chamber. I could have killed him myself, but only a fool would let such talent go to waste.”
Y/N clenched her fists while Harry refused to look at her. It made her blood boil. She would kill him once this was over, only if Lance hadn’t done it first.
“He is my personal guard. He is not joining your army.”
Harry arched an eyebrow slightly at Y/N, and she realized she sounded like an angry mother when her child asked to go play in the snow. Better safe than sorry, she thought. She did not get him back to lose him again.
Lance held his hands behind his back and stepped closer to whisper to her. “My army will fight with yours, Y/N. He’ll still be by your side.”
That was the moment she realized, Lance knew. She had no idea how, but he knew who Harry was and how much he meant to her. But could she actually believe that this prince was doing this for her, so that she and Harry could be close without her people’s prejudices?
Her eyes searched for Harry’s again. This time, he didn’t avoid them. He stared right back and she knew that look; she’d seen it too often during their journey to the South. It said, ‘You’ve got to trust me.’
And she really wanted to.
“Won’t you have to take him with you to Attwell?” she asked Lance, not breaking eye contact with Harry.
“Once you’ve accepted my proposal, one thousand Attwell soldiers will come to Isolde and serve in your court, and this man can join them.”
Harry seemed indifferent to the mention of the proposal. He knew that in order to keep him she would have to marry Lance. She told herself to just give him up and turn Lance down, but she was also well aware that her own army could not last an hour in battle with the South. She’d be outnumbered and the Isolde soldiers weren’t well trained compared to Theros. Not to mention the fact that she’d already lost a handful of alliances after the massacre in this throne room. Suddenly, she understood why Harry was doing this, and still, it didn’t make her hate him any less.
She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath. Harry and Lance seemed to be holding their breath while waiting for her final decision.
“Very well,” she said forcefully. “But I want two thousand men with fleets and strong horses.”
“Deal.” Lance flashed a smug grin and offered his hand in a businesslike manner. She didn’t take it. Amused, he stepped closer. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Harry flinch as if he was about to attack the Prince right there. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. If he still managed to get jealous maybe he should not have manipulated her into marrying the Prince.
Lance got so close that she could smell the winter from his coat. When he lowered his head, her heart jerked at the thought that he would kiss her in front of Harry, but then his mouth was at her ear, and he whispered, “You really thought you could make him your personal guard and people wouldn’t talk? Grow up, Y/N. Let me help you.”
“I could just take your sword and gut you right here for talking to me like that.”
She could feel a ghost of a smile on his face in response to the threat.
“You can protect him. But I can protect you, Y/N.”
Lance drew back and their eyes locked for a second. His expression remained cold as ice, yet there was rare tenderness to it, or she was really hallucinating.
She didn’t say another word to him. “Harry, come.”
And shoved Lance away before she stormed out of the room.
She kept on walking as Harry’s hurried footsteps echoed behind her. Once they had returned to her bed-chamber, she slammed the door shut and crossed her arms over her chest. The look she was giving him said, ‘Go on. Explain before I kill you.’
“If I stay,” he began, fingering his own belt out of nervousness, “you’ve got to let me help you.”
“You could help me by not offering your head to the enemy on the battlefield.”
“Are you really telling me you would sit behind these walls while your men fight to the death, Y/N?” She blinked at her real name, yet he didn’t notice her reaction or he didn’t care. “I know you’d be on the battlefield and I’m not going to stay here knowing I could lose you any minute.”
“Then you could have talked to me first! You didn’t have to manipulate me into marrying him! You made me feel bad for even considering it and then you went behind my back and–”
He closed the distance between them with two long strides, and she backed against the door with a thump as he cupped her face and kissed her like he had the night before. She didn’t resist him. The kiss warmed their cold lips with one another, and her heartbeats gradually slowed though her anger hadn’t subsided.
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “I do not want you to marry anyone but me. Especially him. But you cannot stand a chance against Calanthe, and the last time she came to see me, she made it clear that she wanted you dead.”
Y/N was taken aback. “She came to you? Did she–”
“My family is safe,” he sighed, “for now, but I don’t think your people will be.” The words made Y/N shudder. Harry went on, “On my way here, I’ve heard so many whispers about how you are illegitimate to the throne. Your people didn’t like Egon but at least it made sense to them that he was the true heir and not you. Their faith is already fragile. Calanthe could easily turn them against you, and you keeping me as your guard will not help.” He thrust his fingers into his hair. “I didn’t only come to say goodbye but also to warn you about Calanthe. I thought I could just move on, but I couldn’t leave you to fight on your own. So please help me and help yourself. But you also knew that, didn’t you? When you agreed to the deal with the Prince, you thought you did it for me, but it was also for your kingdom, love. You know your people need this.”
“I don’t trust Lance,” she whispered, shutting her eyes. “And what were you thinking sneaking into his chamber? He could have killed you. I saw him kill–”
“I know him.”
Y/N’s eyes shot open and widened. “You what?”
Harry pursed his lips, looking rather indifferent, yet she knew he was not. “Well, actually, I know of him. He used to captain a ship and his crew went from kingdom to kingdom to free slaves and recruit them for his own army. He was as much a prince as you are a princess, and therefore, he’s got as much to lose.”
Y/N ground her jaw and threw her arms in the air. “Great. I don’t even know my betrothed used to be a pirate.”
“Don’t call him your betrothed,” Harry said bitterly. “The marriage would be fake.”
She stabbed a finger at his chest. “You should have thought of that before you made me accept his fake proposal.”
Harry opened his mouth, though it seemed like he was out of arguments.
“So you’re saying he can be trusted?” she asked.
He lifted his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t know. But he could have just killed you and Egon if he wanted Isolde, right? Why bother to go along with a riskier plan unless he’s just as desperate? No offence.”
“None taken.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.
Harry curled his lips as he nudged her cheek with the tip of his nose like a horse. “Also, I don’t want to be mean but from what I’ve heard, he’s kind of a player. Just so you know. I’m the safe bet here.”
“You’re the least safe thing I’ve done and I’ve duelled my own brother to the death.”
He gasped at her remark and she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his arms around her waist.
“More than myself,” she answered.
“Good. Because as long as we’re together, I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.”
Y/N touched his face as she returned the smile. He could promise her the world, but heavy was the head that wore the crown. The royal court was her battlefield, and she would have to make sure nothing bad would ever happen to him.
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EPILOGUE
One year later
It was late-fall in a village deep in the northern forest. The air grew colder and the grey landscape wearier. Kennedy Rowley sat in her house beside the fireplace, holding her first-born in her arms as she hummed a lullaby and began the story of four princes and one hundred kingdoms. She hadn’t got any farther than ‘Once upon a time’ when she heard a knock on the front door. Her husband rushed out from the kitchen, waving his hands about his head to get rid of the smoke of burned food.
The knocking sounded again, more urgently this time. Then came a gruff masculine voice, “I’m here on the command of the Queen of Isolde.”
“Y/N?” Stefan Russo cast his wife a glance. “But the royal wedding is a month away. Why are they here?”
Kenny was just as clueless as he was. She hurried him to open the door, and an Isolde guard heavily stepped in. He was so large he had to duck his head to fit through the door.
“My apology, I didn't mean to disturb you,” he said as soon as he saw the half-asleep child, “but the Queen has arranged a carriage to bring your family to Isolde tonight.”
“Tonight?!” cried Kenny. “It’s so urgent. Is everything all right?”
The soldier’s expression remained stiff although there was a glimpse of worry which he’d done his best to conceal. “I’m afraid not. It’s about the Commander.”
“Harry,” Stefan muttered, exchanging looks of concern with his wife.
“Get your things,” the soldier said. “The horses are waiting outside. I’ll explain everything on the road.”
(END OF BOOK 1)
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Book 2: THE WINTER AND THE CROWN (release date announced soon)
Synopsis:
Winter. A wedding. A war.
Y/N has to protect her kingdom from the enemy from the South and also the love of her life from the ruthlessness of the royal courts. But her destiny is paved with blood and revenge. And as she and Harry set off on another adventure to find the cure for an ancient curse, what they find is much more than they have anticipated.
Meanwhile, Calanthe is scheming to take away everything that Peach holds dear, and with the help of other dark forces, this time she might succeed.
Blood will shed. And the seasons will turn.
207 notes · View notes
cherryrogers · 4 years ago
Text
when dusk falls {1}
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au
warnings: mentions of war, death, rape + forced marriage. pure angst tbh.
summary: One fateful afternoon, your blissful life as the beloved princess of Taria comes to a sudden halt.
a/n: ok so i am very excited for this fic. more excited than i’ve ever been to write a fic ever, i really hope you guys like it !! it’ll likely be a slow burn, and i’m gonna try so hard to do weekly updates (unheard of from me i know !!) anyway please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!
series masterlist
The Kingdom of Taria was said to be the most beautiful place on the planet. A verdant location, rich with greenery from north to south. Known as the planet’s garden, visitors would travel for days overseas simply to inhale the fresh scent of the crisp air upon arriving within Taria’s borders. The civilians were lovely, always smiling and willing to offer tours of the gardens and markets. And the monarchs — the most loved the world had ever seen. They lived in a fabulous palace in the centre of the green land, one of the oldest buildings to exist in Taria. The palace front garden was free for anyone to roam, a place where the King and Queen could be seen waving from their balcony, broad smiles covering their lips.
And the Princess; she was the kingdom’s gem.
Adored by the people of Taria and those of allied kingdoms, you made it your mission to be less of a princess to your people, and more of a friend. You played with the children in the palace garden on sunny afternoons, went to tea with the women who sold baked goods at the markets, helped their sons with schoolwork when you had time to spare — there wasn’t a single name you could put to a face. You felt so free, so lucky to be engaged with the people that made Taria as wonderful as it was. You didn’t even need personal guards, not when there wasn’t a soul in the kingdom that wanted to hurt a hair on your head.
The life you were so grateful to live, that you cherished so close to your heart — it was terrifying how easily it was stripped from you. How easily Hydra ripped you away from the golden dream that it was.
You’d been hiding in your library, laid out on a plush beige couch, the skirt of your royal blue dress spilling over the edge, flipping through the pages of a thick, hardback mystery novel. It’d been gifted to you by Sharon, your lady-in-waiting and best friend before that. She’d left you alone in the library momentarily while running to bring you both a steaming cup of chamomile tea; an essential when reading, she’d insisted. If you weren’t so caught up in your book, perhaps you would’ve noticed Sharon had been gone for nearly ten minutes. It was only when the sound of commotion erupted from behind the large doors of the library that your eyes finally flickered up, and when they did, your friend was suddenly bursting through the doors, a frightened expression on her face.
“Sharon, what’s wrong?” You’d slipped your bookmark between the pages of your novel before placing it at your feet.
The blonde rushed towards you, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. “We must go.”
Your face contorted in confusion, but Sharon didn’t care to explain as she snatched you away from the centre of the grand room, making a beeline to the back door of the room that led into your personal garden. Her hand was tight like a vice around your wrist, pressing your bracelets uncomfortably into your skin.
“What was with the yelling outside?” You questioned breathlessly, struggling to keep up with her pace as she pushed open the glass garden doors. “And why— my gosh, why are we running?”
Winding through the plethora of brilliantly coloured roses and tulips, you shrieked as you closely avoided tripping over your own feet, bare and aching from the gravel of the pavement between the square plots of flowers sticking to your soles. Everything was happening so fast, even the colours of the garden were blending together as you tried to figure out what could’ve been going on.
Sharon’s hand fleetingly let go of your wrist as you steadied yourself, and before she could clasp it back in her grip, you ripped it out of her reach.
She narrowed her eyes. “_____, we don’t have time—”
“Tell me what’s going on.” You folded your arms over your chest, the waver in your voice telling Sharon that you needed to know then and there, your nerves beginning to build more with each passing second.
The woman was about to object, but since you weren’t aware of the gravity of the situation, she decided telling you may have been a better option — whatever got you away from the palace the as soon as possible. Sighing quickly, she held your upper arms in urgency. “It’s Hydra, they’re here. Here for you.”
In that moment, you swore your heart had never dropped so low in your stomach. “For me? What— What do they want with me?”
“I don’t know; as soon as I heard your name, I ran to find you. They’re searching the palace for you right now, _____, we need to get to the stables and leave before they find you.”
She took your hand in hers, ready to make a run for it, but you didn’t budge. Mouth hung open in shock, you were paralysed on the spot.
The Kingdom of Hydra was a dark place. Plagued with freezing temperatures and harsh blizzards, the majority kept far away from it. The effects of a long dictatorship had set in over the decades, making it the complete opposite of Taria. King Alexander called all the shots, passed laws that benefited him, denied laws that benefited the public. Crime was at an all time high; women raped every day, markets trashed and robbed, murders around every corner — the King didn’t bat an eye. Nobody did. The only reason people stayed was because they had to. It was against the law to migrate unless the circumstances were exceptional, but realistically they’d never be severe enough for the King to lose tax money over.
Attempts at rebellions had spiked over the years, usually only consisting of not even one hundred civilians wanting to fight the system. The King’s father, who occupied the throne before him, was killed by a rebel when the castle was attacked by hundreds of men wielding pitchforks. Once Alexander became king, he threatened that any civilian who dared to rebel against the monarchy would be sentenced to death without question. While there were still quieter rebel forces waiting for their moment to strike, most were ultimately too fearful to take physical action, and they were right in feeling so.
Hydra was a brutal place; living there was a life sentence that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. But it seemed like soon, you’d be serving that miserable time yourself.
Only when you felt a warm hand press to your cheek did you snap out of your fear, glossy eyes meeting the deep brown ones of your friend. “You’ll be okay. I’m going to get you to safety, but I can only do that if we leave now.”
Forcing your fear down with a painful gulp, you nodded hurriedly. The blonde’s lips curled slightly in reassurance, before she took your hand eagerly and headed straight for the tall, cream garden gate leading out to the stables.
She quickly explained the route you’d take; travel west through the Goldwater village, borrow a rowboat from the docks, and sail over the Emerald Sea to the Swari Island; a small but resourceful community not ruled over by a monarchy, but had offered hospitality to the royals of Taria if they ever needed it. They’d know who you were when you arrived there, and because it was such an independent island, Hydra likely didn’t even know it existed. If they did, they probably would’ve attacked and taken over the place a long time ago.
The plan sounded hopeful, and your nerves had actually began to simmer once you were close enough to the gate for Sharon to shift the heavy metal lock. But when a worried voice called out from behind you, her movement was paused, the lock only being half pulled.
Steven — your father’s valet — stood tall in the doorway to the library, golden locks and beard seeming even lighter with the sun beaming down onto him. But the look on his face was anything but light; thick brows pinched and lips curled into a frown, he waved for the two of you to return.
“There are soldiers behind that gate,” He called. “You can’t reach the stables.”
You turned to Sharon with a fearful expression; she kept a tight hold on your hand, letting go of the gate to respond to Steve. She remained calm, but at the foiling of her plan, her demeanour had visibly changed. “Then what are we to do? I won’t let Hydra take her, Steve.”
His face fell even further, a hand coming to clutch at the sword on his hip as he jogged towards the two of you. Blue eyes set on you, he spoke with sorrow. “I’m afraid that they’re not going to leave without you, Princess.”
Your friend scoffed, shooting the valet a glare. “And why is that?”
Steve didn’t reply, an apologetic glint in his eyes as they stayed on you. You held his eye contact, shaking your head in disbelief. What did he mean they weren’t leaving without you? It wasn’t like Steve to give up so easily, especially when it came to your safety. He had a duty to your father, to ensure your protection before his at all costs. But Hydra didn’t care for duties and loyalty — they didn’t care for compromise. What they wanted, they got. And they wanted you.
“Steven, what do they want with _____?” Sharon asked again, this time more aggressive with her tone, but her hard exterior was beginning to crumble.
Like you, she knew Steve to be confident, determined. He’d been like that even at the age of thirteen when she’d befriended him — the scrawny blond boy that didn’t have the patience to read books or plant seeds in the back garden like the other kids she neighboured with, instead always running around on the dirt roads using long, pointy sticks as swords to battle with an imaginary opponent.
Originally from the war-torn Kingdom of Lidor, she migrated with her aunt after her parents were caught in the centre of a Hydra attack on their village. Sharon was staying at her Aunt Peggy’s for the weekend when it happened, and as soon as it did, Peggy wasn’t risking her young niece being killed along with her brother and sister-in-law if they dared attack again, which was likely inevitable.
That was the scary thing about Hydra; they had the absolute power to ruin everything in their wake.
Sharon met you when she was sixteen; she was wandering the beautiful palace garden with her aunt when you’d approached the two of them, introducing yourself with a kind smile. It was the first time they’d been near the palace, their new village being in a more remote area of Taria, and preferring to keep to themselves while recovering from the tragedy back home. You ended up clicking with her straight away, easily being drawn to her fiery attitude and quick wit. As you got closer, you became her shoulder to cry on when she’d opened up about her parents and her life during the war at home, learning that Lidor was fighting on their own against the powerful forces of Hydra, and had been three years — Hydra had a certain way of keeping their harmful affairs quiet.
Later that week, you informed your father of her kingdom’s situation, and after a discussion with Taria’s knights and the leaders of your allies, cavalries upon cavalries shipped out to Lidor to rid the place of Hydra’s men. The war came to an end months later, and you’ll never forget the relief and joy on Sharon’s face once you’d let her know that her home could soon begin to recover.
She’d also spoken of needing a job, and after a short conversation with your parents, they approved of her being able to fill the spot of your lady-in-waiting. Sharon was hesitant to take the role, as it meant leaving her old aunt to live alone in their home miles away from the palace, but you assured her she could visit Peggy whenever she wanted, and that the role wasn’t so much a servant job — more like a professional best friend.
Steve, then eighteen, was introduced to you when you ventured out to meet Sharon’s aunt at her home. Unlike him in his childhood, he’d grown incredibly tall and broad, large biceps and muscular thighs easily filling out his clothing. Purely kindness and charisma, Steve seemed like a man your father would’ve adored. One day, you brought the two of them down to the palace for dinner in the evening. Steve was obviously out of his comfort zone; he’d never once imagined he’d ever come to be around so many royals. Like you’d guessed, he had your father clutching his stomach with laughter, and he’d deeply admired the blond’s courageous spirit when he’d expressed his desire for a job where he could protect people who needed it.
At the end of the night, the King pulled him aside and told him that if he was interested in being his valet, the job was unmistakably his. Of course, Steve accepted it without question. You’d always remember the first time he held a real sword; it was like witnessing a child during a sugar rush.
Since that day, both Sharon and Steven had never been too far away, always around to keep you company. It was a good change to have good friends living in such close proximity. Your life had never been better, safer.
And now, in their presence, you’d never felt more afraid.
Before Sharon could force an answer out of the valet, a raspy, smug voice sounding from where Steve had been stood only moments ago in the library doorway caught the attention of the three of you.
Tilting your head to look past Steve, your jaw tightened at the sight of a dark-haired man, dressed in dark clothes and scruffy boots — a clear juxtaposition among the vibrant garden. Upon his lips, a too-satisfied smirk, and on the left metal shoulder piece shielding his thin tunic, the image of a skull with tentacles coming from the mouth clear as day — the symbol of Hydra.
“I must say, Princess, you have a wonderful palace here.” He patronised, stepping into the garden gesturing to the enormous building behind him.
It was then you noticed the four soldiers that’d followed him out, expressions completely vacant, staring straight ahead as if they hadn’t just infiltrated the royal palace. Their uniform was similar to brocks, except the skull symbol was replaced by a large red star.
Steve pushed you behind him protectively; your grip remained tight on your friend’s hand. “You have no business coming to Taria without speaking the King first. This wasn’t part of the agreement.”
Agreement? Hydra had no business in Taria at all; none that you knew of, anyway.
The man shrugged carelessly. “The King wants the Princess in Hydra now; circumstances have changed.”
“Circumstances have changed how?” Steve challenged, glowering at him.
Frustration bubbled in your chest. You didn’t understand what Hydra wanted with you, and you definitely weren’t aware that there was an agreement between Taria and Hydra. Your kingdom vowed a long time ago never to make deals with the devil, the devil being a kingdom ruined by dictatorship and power-hungry men.
Sharon uttered your name cautiously as you removed your hand from hers, stepping forward to lower Steve’s raised arm, no longer shielded from the man who’d seemingly been sent to collect you.
“Tell me what’s going on,” You spoke up confidently, shoving down the anxiety threatening to appear in your voice. “What agreement do you speak of?”
The man’s sick smile widened upon hearing your voice. Looking over his shoulder, he gave a nod to one of the docile soldiers who left his side on his signal, before turning back to you. “I could tell you, Princess — but I think it’s better that you hear it from the King and Queen.”
Your eyes widened; behind the man, you watched as four soldiers escorted your parents into the garden. They appeared tired, as if they’d put up a fight. Wouldn’t any loving parent to keep their child safe? Of course, Hydra had likely brought enough infantry to keep control of the situation. Your knights were strong, but scarce compared to the large army Hydra had built over the years.
“Go on,” The man coaxed, stepping off to the side so that you were eyeing your parents directly. “Ask them.”
Biting your lower lip, you pushed back the confused and angry tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Father, Mother — what’s going on?”
A stray tear trickled down your mother’s face, her eyes never leaving the ground. She was petrified. Exhaling deeply, your father took her hand gently, before shooting you an apologetic look. “This was never meant to happen, _____. I was going to renegotiate the agreement…”
His pleads to show himself in a better light fell flat, futile — everyone knew that you were leaving with Hydra one way or another. You brought your brows together, silently asking him to just tell you the truth. Another heavy sigh, and he came clean.
“One day, when your mother was pregnant with you, her and I rented a sailboat from the east docks. We used to sail along the Heartlen Ocean all the time when we were young; she was due to give birth in two weeks, and since she’d be palace-bound upon your birth, I decided that one more sail before the big day wouldn’t hurt.”
Typically, most who chose to go sailing took boats from the west docks to travel the Emerald Sea. They were easier to access, less remote than the east docks hidden by the thick woodland separating them from Taria’s centre. But if you recalled correctly, that’s why your parents were so fond of the Heartlen Ocean — it was quiet, the whole ocean was theirs to sail freely.
“We’d been out for an hour or two, ignoring our compass and the sky growing dark. We had no idea how far out from Taria we were. Your mother suggested that we head back, but… but before we could, she went into—”
“Can we speed this up, Your Highness?” The insufferable man snarked, earning himself a piercing glare from your father, but he obeyed nonetheless.
His eyes landed back on yours, filling with regret once more. “She went into labour on the boat. We were so far out that going back to Taria wasn’t an option. So, we sailed to the nearest land we could find, which turned out to be Hydra. We had no choice but to ask for their help, and— and they gave it to us, but with a cost. The King, he refused to help your mother unless we made a deal, that deal being that if she gave birth to a baby girl… she was to marry his newborn son once he‘d turned twenty-one.”
You could have fainted on the spot. Steve offered his arm to you, which you took quickly, holding on as if the ground was turning to quicksand. If that meant the ground would’ve swallowed you up and been your escape from the nightmare-come-true that was happening before you, you wished the ground were quicksand.
Tears yet again glazing your eyes, you shook your head. “I— I don’t know what to say.”
Meekly, your mother lifted her head, broken eyes meeting yours almost painfully. “We had no choice, my dear.”
I know. You wanted to say it, but the words refused to leave the tip of your tongue. A sob stuck uncomfortably in your throat, but you couldn’t cry. You couldn’t let your guard down; not in front of Hydra.
Not in front of the people who held your mother’s life in their greedy hands, only agreeing to save it if they could benefit from doing so. You refused to show them an ounce of your vulnerability.
Still wearing that ugly grin, the man who seemed to be leading the Hydra soldiers brought himself back between you and your parents, and you couldn’t help but glower at him. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order. Princess, you’re getting married.”
“You’re sick.” Steve spat, but the man just snickered.
“Soldiers, prepare the carriage for our departure,” He called over his shoulder, and the expressionless soldiers obeyed, marching past you to unlock the garden gate, revealing another dozen soldiers right outside. “Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself.”
He reached for your hand, but Steve was quick to bat it away, drawing his sword from his hip with a stern stare. But by doing so, the soldiers stood at the gate followed suit, ready to lunge at the valet if his sword moved any closer to their leader. With great reluctance, your friend put his weapon away, and the man reached for your hand yet again.
His hands were rough, and you couldn’t hide your grimace at the dirt he’d failed to wash from them. Moving agonisingly slow, he brought your silk-soft hand to his lips. “I’m Brock; we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other once you settle in Hydra.”
You could’ve thrown up, right then and there. He was enjoying it, seeing you and your family miserable. Once the public heard of the sudden news, they’d be terrified. If the King of Hydra could so easily take their Princess away from Taria, what was stopping them from trying to take Taria for themselves completely?
Brock chuckled as you tugged your hand from his grasp. “I hope you’re a little friendlier to your husband-to-be; I know that Prince Isaac is very eager to meet you.”
Husband. It was still almost impossible to process. A deal to save your mother’s life — and your own — made twenty years prior meant that your freedom was to be completely stripped from you. It didn’t matter how they’d treat you in Hydra; they’d be taking you against your will, forcing you to marry a man you’d never met, and if he was anything like his father, you would’ve rather been as far away from him as possible.
Of course, you could’ve refused to leave. But when you were surrounded by soldiers, ready to comply to any instruction Brock gave them, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of doing so.
You’d like to have thought Taria had moved on from such traditional norms of a kingdom ruled over by a monarchy. Money was provided to civilians that needed it — not only to survive — but to live a stable life, the richer inhabitants of the Kingdom were taxed more and didn’t complain; everyone had a chance of a good life in Taria. Your family certainly made sure of that, and not many other kingdoms had come to follow in your footsteps of upholding a fairer society.
However, the rules concerning the marriage of the King and Queen’s children had been the same since a monarch first took to the throne in Taria, and everywhere else too. And you didn’t mind that; you trusted that your parents wouldn’t force you into marriage with a man you were certain about. They’d definitely never have you marry Prince Isaac of Hydra if they had a say in the matter. But the deal was made a long time ago, and Hydra had a knack for never forgetting what they’re owed. It’d be illegal for you parents to go back on the agreement, and again, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of that happening.
“The carriage is ready, Commander.” A soldier announced from behind you, voice as monotonous as you’d imagined it to sound. His words still sent a shiver down your spine.
“I— I need to collect my things.” You stated to Brock, who waved you off.
“There’s no need; everything you could possibly need will be given to you at the castle, Princess.”
So you weren’t even allowed to bring your own clothes, or books, or anything to remind you that you’d never truly belong to Hydra. Of course they’d want to strip you of your identity; they wanted you on strings, dancing around for them as if you were a puppet. In their clothes, reading their books between the walls of their castle, perhaps it’d be enough to transform you into one.
You sighed, clenching at the skirt of your dress in annoyance. “May I at least say goodbye to my family?”
Brock seemed sceptical, but figured that perhaps you’d let down your front a little if he granted you what you’d asked. “You have two minutes, then we must leave immediately.”
As soon as he stepped out of your way to begin gathering his soldiers, you made a beeline to your parents, ignoring the gravelly pavement against your sore feet. Pulling the two of them into a loving hug, you didn’t care to suppress your tears that time.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” Your father mumbled in your ear, his tone dripping with regret. “The palace guards tried to stop them from entering, but there were just too many soldiers. And the knights weren’t aware—”
You pulled away, offering him a forgiving smile. “It’s not your fault, Father. Neither of you are to blame.”
Tearful eyes landed on your mother next, who could barely lift her gaze from the ground. “Mother, please listen to me.”
She glanced up as you addressed her directly, her frown deepening. “If you hadn’t accepted the deal, neither of us would’ve lived to see how beautiful Taria has become over the past twenty years. Living this life and having it taken away from me… it’s better than never having lived it at all, I swear.”
“The arrival of this day has plagued my nightmares ever since you were born,” The woman choked out a sob, immediately taking your hands in her trembling ones. “Don’t let Hydra take away the good in your heart, my dearest. And— And don’t lose hope.”
You gave her a nod of assurance, before stepping back from the two of them, afraid that you’d turn into a sobbing mess if you spoke to them any longer. “Thank you, for everything.”
As the two leaned into each other, your parents plastered on smiles of appreciation, of love, and you made sure to keep that image fresh in your mind forever. If that were the last you were to see of them, then you refused to let the memory get away.
Turning around, you couldn’t help but chuckle sadly at your friends, watching you with such fallen expressions; they’d never appeared so down. Around each other, the three of you never shared a dull moment. If you were to leave Taria to marry in the future, it was meant to be far less melancholic. Unfortunately, not everything can work out in everyone’s favour; destiny seemed to really not want to work out in yours.
Approaching Steve first, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, a sense of temporary relief filling you as his big arms enveloped your waist. He was a brother to you; it felt like you’d known him your whole life rather than a mere few years. He held you tight, almost afraid that you’d disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip in the slightest.
“I wanted to tell you...” He muttered softly in your ear. As the King’s valet and his most trusted confidant, Steve was told of the matter only a year prior. The King knew that Hydra would come knocking soon enough, and he believed that Steve deserved to know the truth, him being so close to his daughter and all.
“You couldn’t,” You responded, voice muffled by his shoulder. “I understand that.”
“Taria wouldn’t be the place it is without you; I guess I just thought that… nobody could ever take you away from here, no matter how hard they tried.”
Stepping back, you moved your hands to his shoulders, giving them an assuring squeeze. “Hydra will never be a home to me, Steven. Nobody could ever truly take me from here.”
His lips curled at that, though it didn’t seem to raise his spirits; it’d be impossible to. The worst case scenario had become a reality — Taria’s Princess in the clutches of Hydra.
Leaning forwards, you pressed a short kiss to his cheek, a token of your gratitude for the valet and one of your best friends. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”
“And you, _____.”
You grinned; it wasn’t often that he addressed you by your first name. He’d become so accustomed to calling you by your title around the palace that it slipped his tongue naturally, despite your pleas to address you as his friend, not his princess.
The moment your eyes fell to Sharon, she pulled you straight into her arms, almost knocking the wind out of you. She’d never been much of a hugger; even on her birthday each year she’d cringe when you and Steve would attack her with hugs and affection. But with the possibility playing on her mind that she may never get to be in her best friend’s presence again, she was happy to keep you as close as possible during the little time you had left there.
“Sharon—”
“There has to be a way to stop this,” The blonde shook her head against your shoulder. “It’s not— this can't be legal.”
A sigh left your lips as you pulled back, trailing your hands to her upper arms. “Somehow, it’s perfectly legal. Even if there was a way to prevent me from leaving, I doubt that the outcome would be any better than this.”
If marrying the heir to Hydra’s throne meant that the rest of Taria was left untouched, you’d leave your Kingdom without a second thought. Their King was not a man of reason; broken deals were always followed with brutal consequences.
Sharon knew that; Lidor happened to be on the receiving end of those consequences when the war broke out on her homeland. The Kingdom was meant to surrender themselves to Hydra’s rule when the previous king was in charge. But when he died and his son took to the throne in turn, he refused to let Lidor fall under such an appallingly cruel government. And following that refusal, Lidor was practically demolished.
If it weren’t for the help they received from Taria and their allies, the place would no longer have been inhabitable. It’d been rebuilding itself slowly over the past few years, and Sharon would’ve hated to see the same tragic thing happen to Taria.
But then again, look at what the cost was. You, trapped in the walls of Hydra’s Castle that’d seen more affliction and agony than your parents had ever even heard of — she couldn’t just let it happen. She was going to fight for you, as your lady-in-waiting and best friend.
Wiping at her eyes furiously, Sharon shook her head again, simply refusing to let you go so easily. “This isn’t goodbye, _____.”
“Sharon—”
“You’re always the one telling me to look on the bright side, to never stop looking for light at the end of the tunnel,” She spoke sincerely. “The war on Lidor had torn me up for years; without you, I have no idea where I’d be, but I certainly wouldn’t be happy. Now it’s my turn to get you through this.”
You furrowed your brows, uncertain of what she’d meant, but then she uttered something lowly, not wanting anyone else to listen in.
“I know someone in Hydra — they work for King Alexander personally. If I write to you, they’ll get the letters to you.”
Scoffing breathlessly, you narrowed your eyes at her. “Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into? And who do you know in—”
“Hydra is awaiting your arrival, Princess.” Brock’s teasing tone sounded next to the garden gate, and you assumed that meant your two minutes was up.
It was really happening. You were really being stolen away to Hydra, like a mere object.
Sharon took your face in her hands for just a moment, savouring her last few seconds with you before the smug idiot behind her snatched you away. “I love you, okay? We all do.”
“I love you all too.” You shot her half a smile, glancing up at Steve, who was already looking back at you, and taking a look over your shoulder to eye your parents once more.
Sure, Taria was aesthetically gorgeous, but it was the wonderful people who occupied it that made it a profoundly beautiful place.
The longing expression on your face soon faded when your eyes diverted to Brock, and announced that you were ready to leave. He offered you his arm; you ignored the gesture.
His cavalry were set to depart, already mounted on their dark-haired horses, shining manes blowing gently in the slight breeze. The carriage was rather small, only made to escort two people at a time, and the thought alone of being stuck so close to Brock for as long as it took to simply arrive at east docks made your stomach turn.
Sharon and Steve followed you out next to the stables, watching as the carriage pulled away with their beloved friend inside of it.
Steve naively waited for the nightmare to end, to wake up in his chambers and know that you were sleeping safely in yours. Sharon’s jaw was tight, already contemplating ways to guide you back to where you rightfully belonged.
The taller of the two finally tore his eyes from the carriage, now long gone down the dirt road heading east. He pressed his lips into a thin line, already sensing the frustration boiling in his friend’s blood. “Sharon—”
“You knew,” She intervened bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest as her narrowed eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “You knew that Hydra would come for her and you didn’t even tell me — didn’t even tell her.”
The blond’s lips parted to respond, yet we knew that there were no words he could possibly come up with to make the situation any lighter. “I know you’re hurting, so am I—”
“We’re not the ones being forced to start a new life in Hydra, Steve. _____’s the one that’s hurting. I just... I just think that she deserved to know.”
With that, the woman turned back abruptly, making a swift exit back through the garden gate. The valet remained in his place, a hand absentmindedly going to rest on the hilt of his sword as he observed the carriage morphing into a black dot on the horizon.
And for the first time in his life, overlooking the green land and breathing in the fresh air of the Kingdom he’d come to call home, he felt that Taria didn’t seem so beautiful.
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retroateez · 4 years ago
Text
Prophecy - Chapter Seventeen
length: 3k
tag list: @hewwo-from-the-other-side
prophecy masterlist
Strolling arm in arm with Seonghwa, the kingsguard of Ateez's powerful monarch, was not a situation you had ever expected to be in, not in a million years.
But yet, here you were, clutching onto the tall, handsome man as he led you through hallways and down great wooden staircases. Really, you didn't know what you were more nervous about, being in the spotlight in front of hundreds of people, or seeing Wooyoung dressed like this.
Your gown, an exquisitely made garment just for you, fits your form beautifully. The skirt sways gently with every step you take and every so often, you swear you catch the stitched butterflies fluttering with ease.
"Yeosang enchanted the butterflies," Seonghwa explains quietly. "They gave me quite the fright too when I saw them moving."
You smile, thinking of Yeosang whispering softly to the fabric and watching as the rose pink butterflies come to life.
Before long, you're both stood in front of the great oak doors that lead into the main hall. Seonghwa adjusts his position, putting his heels together and straightening his back. You can tell he's done this countless times before; he knows exactly how to carry himself and you would expect absolutely nothing less from the man who exudes regality.
"I don't know if I can do this, Seonghwa." You exhale sharply, tightening your grip on the kingsguard's arm.
"Of course you can!" He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "All you have to do is walk, and sit. When Wooyoung comes to you and offers to dance, you accept, and then you dance."
"I'm- I'm not cut out for fancy stuff like this." You say, looking up at him with sad eyes. "I'm just a nasty little street thief."
Seonghwa scoffs.
"You think a street rat would ever wear something as beautiful as this? Nonsense! The past is the past, Iris. You're one of us now."
Something about Seonghwa's words calms you, the thought of being accepted by (almost) everybody in the castle warming you to the heart. In a sense too, he's right. The shades of your old life had been completely cast out, starting with Yeosang giving you a proper home, and Hongjoong giving you a job of sorts.
Really, you had it all.
But the insatiable hunger for more still burned within you, and no matter how hard you tried to push it to the back of your mind, it would come back ten times louder.
Seonghwa reaches out and knocks firmly on the door, and immeditately, both of them are pulled open.
You stand there, mouth agape, taking in the scenery before you.
The great hall has been completely transformed, from an empty, lonely space to a bustling center of hospitality and entertainment.
On the far left, where Hongjoong's brilliant throne is, sits a long table, with space for nine people. In the center, is a smaller, but no less impressive version of the throne, where you assume the king himself will be sitting.
Off to the side of that, is a rectangular platform, upon which is Mingi, expertly playing his lute whilst accompanied by three other men playing various instruments you couldn't name. The rest of the hall is full of grand oak tables, each one lined with people chattering and singing along loudly with Mingi's song. Every table is graced with an abundance of hot food and goblets of ale. Whole roasted pheasants, hogs, mountains of golden roasted potatoes and boiled carrots covered every single surface and filled the air with a delicious aroma.
You spot Yeosang and Wooyoung occupying two chairs on the top table, conversing with each other, probably about the prophecy. You also spy San admist the guests, who laugh heartily as he speaks to them. Perhaps a jester is more than jokes after all.
At the end of the table is a sturdy young man with chesnut brown hair, who looks incredibly familiar to you, but you know you've never met him. Next to him is Yunho, who you grin at, happy to see a familiar face. He doesn't reciprocate your smile, instead giving you a small wave. You pray that he hasn't noticed the stolen textbook.
Seonghwa keeps you closely by your side as you glide into the hall and the silence in the room becomes abundantly clear.
Everybody is watching you.
All the guests take their seats and they sit like obedient children, observing as the stoic, cold-faced kingsguard accompanies you to your seat at the head table.
For some of them, this is a completely new experience; to see Seonghwa leading a beautiful woman to the most importaant table in the room. But for the older attendees, it is a sight they haven't seen since the passing of the Queen.
It's only when you're sat, Hongjoong's empty seat to your right and a giddy Yeosang to your left, that you realise you were holding your breath the entire time. Seonghwa tucks your chair in gently, and takes his own place on the other side of Hongjoong's vacant space, with Wooyoung faintly blushing to his right. The noise in the hall picks back up again, allowing you to quietly converse with your mentor.
"You look positively beautiful, my little student." Yeosang beams at you, and you shyly smile at him.
"You look rather dashing yourself, Yeosang." There's no lie; his brilliantly blonde hair is styled (for once) so it trails ever so slightly down the back of his neck, his outfit makes a start contrast to his usual attire, although he has opted to keep his signature white shirt, but over the top is fitted, beige jacket with embellishments of gold down the line of buttons, and leading down to his wrists.
"Do you like the butterflies?" He asks, a glint of pride behind the eyes. "I thought you would like them."
"Yes, Yeosang." You nod. "They're very pretty."
Suddenly, a hush falls over the room once more, and you guess that can only signify the arrival of a certain person.
The same doors you entered though swing open again, and Hongjoong himself confidently strolls in. He's wearing the tawny brown fur coat you saw before, fancy black trousers with gold patterning up the outside seams of the legs. His boots are ordinary, but they shine brilliantly, almost putting the jewels on his crown to shame.
It dawns on you then that you have actually never seen the king wear his crown, and you're astonished at how stunning it is. At the center is a huge blue gem, identical to the one sitting in the middle of the silver circlet on your own head. Each peak of the crown is embellished with glittering green sapphires, and between the tufts of his fluffy, mousy hair you can spot the sparkling rubies and garnets fitted around the base of the crown.
Hongjoong paces slowly, aware but unaffected by all eyes watching him in awe. He gets to the table, and stands on the other side of where you are seated, and he turns to face the crowded hall.
"Welcome!" he cries, motioning out in front of him. "Esteemed guests and distinguished friends, welcome to the annual Ateez ball."
The guests clap and cheer at their welcoming, Hongjoong patiently smiling as he waits for them to shut up. Sometimes he really hates his obligation to these dreaded social functions.
"It is with great sadness that the kingdom of Seventeen is not able to attend tonight," He says. "Commander Jeonghan sends his regards to all of you."
Hongjoong claps his hands together, the sound echoing throughout the hall and ringing in your ears.
"Nevertheless! Let us enjoy a night of feasting and festivities! Please, thoroughly enjoy yourselves." He finishes with a deep, sweeping bow, upon which the attendees go wild once more, taking up their goblets and gulping their mead down hungrily.
Hongjoong moves around the table, and takes his seat beside you with an exhausted sigh. All chairs, except for two which belong to Mingi and San who are busy entertaining the guests, are now occupied, and you can't help but wonder who the brown haired man next to Yunho is.
"Hongjoong?" You turn to your right and timidly ask the king your question.
"Jongho?" He questions. "He's the tailor who made your dress. He's a quiet lad, from somewhere up north I believe, but he's damn good at what he does."
Jongho's face perks up over hearing his name and he whips around to face you. Hongjoong signals for him to come over, and he does.
"Jongho! This is Iris, Iris, this is Jongho." The king introduces you, and you can't help but blush at the handsome smile the young man gives you.
"Pleasure to meet cha," He says. "You look even more beautiful in that dress that I ever could'a imagined. Hope yah like it?" You notice the difference in his accent, figuring that must be how they talk up in the north.
"It's gorgeous. Thank you."
"Oh hey, you're that kid from the inn!" Yeosang's voice behind you makes you jump, and you slowly realise that Yeosang is in fact correct.
"The inn with the bear!" You gasp. "Do you know if the bear is okay?"
Jongho chuckles. "The bear is fine. I actually recognise you two from the inn also, fancy meeting here, eh?"
You laugh along with him, one of the many worries settled in your mind as you finally learn about the bear that's been plagueing your dreams for so long.
"Well, I'm glad we are all well aquainted." Hongjoong smiles sarcastically, and Jongho takes that as his notice to return to his seat, bowing politely to you before he does so.
"So when do we start dancing and stuff?" You ask Hongjoong, your eyes following Seonghwa as he hurriedly gets up and scurries out of the hall. Your gaze falls back to the king as he shrugs.
"Probably within an hour or so," he answers. "Only people of high status are allowed to dance, so lords, ladies, princes and princesses from other kingdoms will take the center."
You nod, gulping nervously.
"I hope you've been practicing." Hongjoong says. "You'd better not embarrass me in front of my guests."
"What?" you yelp. "Why don't you go out there and dance if you're so bothered?"
"Because I'm the king." he smirks. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to, and I can make anyone do anything I want."
"You're evil." you snarl at him.
"You love me really." he grins. "Besides, I'm being awfully nice to you, am I not? Letting you live in my castle, giving you lavish clothes, allowing you to do whatever you please?"
"But why? All I do is cause trouble and get in the way."
Hongjoong stays silent for a moment, mulling over his answer before turning to face you once again.
"Truthfully, you remind me of my mother. She was very headstrong, very determined. She would never let my father order her around, not a day in her life would she obey the king's command." He stares into the joyful crowd, his eyes misting over ever so slightly as he remembers his late mother.
"I think she would have liked you very much." He continues. "She loved me dearly, but I think deep down she would have loved to have a daughter. My behaviour as of late, I know she would not have approved of it. My mother firmly believed I would be a good king, and so I strive everyday to make her proud. Your arrival reminded me of the promise I made to her before she passed."
"What promise was that?" You whisper.
"To treat everyone fairly, as she would have done. Regardless of age, race, or gender, my mother was a kindred spirit to every soul she met. Did you know that both Mingi and San were found abandoned outside the gates of the kingdom?"
You shake your head.
"My mother refused to have them sent to the orphanage, so she brought them here and they were raised alongside me."
"She sounds like an amazing woman, Hongjoong."
"She was." He smiles fondly. After a few moments, he shakes his head, rubbing his hands together. "My mother also loved to dance, and so with that, the ball shall properly commence!"
Hongjoong stands up, grabbing a glass goblet and a shiny silver spoon from the table and clinking them together to seize the attention of his guests. You watch as he commands the room like a true king, speaking confidently and without hesitation.
You look out at the sea of guests that hang onto his every word, and smile proudly.
Even if you haven't always seen eye to eye, he's a good man who just wants the best for his people, even you can recognise that.
Hongjoong raises his filled goblet towards the ceiling and grins cheerily at his spectators.
"To Ateez!" he toasts.
"To Ateez!" The crowd, including the table at which you are sat, mimic Hongjoong's cry and you sip eagerly at the alcohol in your cup.
When you place your goblet back on the table, you see Wooyoung stood in front of you, on the other side of the table.
You hadn't actually noticed just how handsome he was looking tonight, and now you had a perfect view.
He was wearing his signature, loose, white shirt, except the first two buttons were undone, giving everybody a direct peek at the top of his chest. He also wore a brilliant crimson waistcoat with bold, green plant stems stitched across the front. Beautiful emerald leaves accompanied the stems, with gorgeous, multicoloured flowers dotted here and there all over the front and back of the waistcoast. You even noticed dainty pink butterflies opening and closing their wings, sitting on the flowers of his outfit, butterflies that were completely identical to yours. Wooyoung's trousers were his usual black ones, but tighter than usual.
His jet black hair was soft and curly, parted in the middle and allowing him to stare at you fondly with his stunning amethyst eyes.
"Would you care to dance?" He asks politely, offering you his hand over the table.
Of course, you nod, and hurriedly rush past Yeosang and San who are sat at the table, to take Wooyoung's hand. He gently takes your hand in his, and raises your hand to his lips. He kisses the back of your hand delicately, and smiles at you with a sparkle in his eyes and a warmth in his heart.
"You look stunning tonight, Iris." He whispers to you, leading you towards the middle of the room where the other couples are preparing to dance.
"As do you, Wooyoung." You blush deeply.
The two of you are stood in the center of the hall, and it feels like you're the only two present. You place your arms around his neck, resting your hands on his broad shoulders, and try to contain the blushing when he puts his hands on your waist.
"Are you ready?" He teases. "Remember all your training?"
"Of course," You mumble back. "How could I possibly forget when I had such an amazingly gifted teacher?"
"Don't let San hear you say that," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "Or else his ego will shoot through the roof."
The music starts up again as you giggle quietly. You feel Wooyoung's hands tighten slightly on your waist and the nerves slowly begin to creep in once again.
But then Wooyoung's fingers are on your chin, tilting your head up to face him.
"Hey." He whispers. "No nerves here. We've got this."
And you grin from ear to ear, because he's right.
You manage to keep yourself standing, Wooyoung assisting you most the time by leading you with gentle spins and careful twirls. The two of you join the rest of the crowd in a group dance in which you temporarily switch partners. To your delight, you ended up with Mingi, who despite the vast height difference, was very pleasant to dance with. At one point, Mingi even picked you up and spun you so fast you thought the room was spinning around you.
"That was so fun!" you exclaim to Wooyoung when you return to your original partners.
"I'm glad you thought so." He replies, a hint of playful bitterness laced in his voice. "I much prefer dancing with you than San, his shoulders are much too sharp."
You nod in agreement, laughing joyfully and grinning as Wooyoung matches your gleeful expression. The dancing continues for a short while longer, most of the dancers filing out to eat and drink as the music becomes calmer and slower. But you and the elf carry on as if you were the only two in the room, whispering to each other as you gracefully move across the floor.
Hongjoong watches the two of you from his seat at the main table. He's sitting alone, Yeosang, Yunho and Jongho having collected themselves at the table of King Chan and his guests, talking animatedly.
Hongjoong watches as you and Wooyoung dance, observing with an amused twist of his mouth as Wooyoung dips you down, holding your waist, and gently places his lips on yours.
Hongjoong can't help but admire the bravery displayed by the elf.
He watches you smile into the kiss, and notices how Wooyoung's grip on your waist tightens. The king might even go as far to say he's impressed.
With an exhale, Hongjoong's gaze moves from you to the others, to San cracking jokes, to Mingi expertly playing his lute, and to the other three who seem to be getting along well. He's glad he went through with the ball, the stress of the prophecy getting to him more than he would have liked.
The king sits silently, pondering over the last few months, when Seonghwa, visibly distressed comes hurrying over.
"Hongjoong," he rasps. "We've recieved a message from Seventeen. They've recieved word that there's magic in the kingdom and they're sending soldiers to attack-"
"Ah." Hongjoong nods. "That's why Commander Jeonghan didn't show up. I see."
The king stays silent for a few moments, Seonghwa staring him with panic written over his entire face.
"Well, there's no reason why we can't talk this out. Tell them to send their commander and we can assure them there is zero magic in Ateez."
"But-"
"But what, Seonghwa? There is zero magic in the kingdom. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir." The kingsguard nods hurriedly, and once again rushes out of the hall, no doubt to instruct the messengers.
Hongjoong sighs. He won't tell the others, not yet.
"Let them enjoy themselves." He mumbles to himself, watching Wooyoung twirl you around in his arms.
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middleinthenight21 · 5 years ago
Text
Damirae week 2020- Day 2
Royalty AU
Warning: Adult content. 
The kingdom of Nanda Parbat is in the heart of the mountains, separated from society with a small population. However, they have a powerful army, whose warriors are so efficient that each could fight with six men at the same time. The leader calls himself "The Demon's Head", a strict and rigid old man who had reigned for more than fifty years.
Recently, his grandson had assumed the role. A young man who followed in the footsteps of the previous leader and made it his priority to enrich his kingdom through the war. He had obtained an expansion to the north, as he had investigated the new lands that brought a fruitful business in cultivation rice and control of trade routes with neighboring countries.
She pretends to be interested in the information about Nanda Parbat written on the parchment when one of her tutors’ flits around the small room they use to teach her. They had tried to instruct her in politics, history, she had an Arabic lesson for three hours a day and they were trying to teach her religion, all of this with blows.
The teacher's bar gently taps his hands and gives her a sharp look, as if reminding her of what could happen to her if she doesn't cooperate.
Raven is not well regarded in the harem of the palace; she is a foreigner who was brought from revolutionary France in a conquest. She had a background involved in rebel groups in her land conspiring for the fall of the despotic and corrupt monarch. She was not raised by her customs, does not worship the gods themselves (she is not even sure she believes in one), does not speak Arabic fluently, does not possess the traits considered attractive in women in Narba Parbat, and does not have the character or behavior that amass in young ladies from an early age.
Her first day in Nanda Parbat had been sad and confusing. She walked from her country handcuffed by soldiers who hardly gave her sidelong glances and murmured in another language when they first observed her. She was afraid that they would do something to her, and she already misses her friends, they were fine, she knew it in her heart and that brings relief. The monarch had fallen, Richard and the rebel grouping would build something better, it was a matter of time before the demon's head was removed and they could rise from the ashes.
She's just mad that she wasn't there to see that.
When she first observed the kingdom, she thought that she truly was no longer in her land. There was no smoke from the chimneys, nor the vast expanses of forest, there are no abusive noble lords to answer to and that green moss that is impossible to pull off the walls. Everything is very clean, tidy, even the climate is a subordinate, since it is warm, and her clothing made from the wool of the sheep begins to weigh on her body. A drop of sweat falls from her forehead.
She was dragged, tied by ropes around her hands. Held by a soldier dressed all in black, from whom only his slit eyes distinguish, she is forced to walk when the men get into a carriage pushed by a donkey.
Her feet hurt; she feels the pain of two days of walking without rest. She is poorly nourished and the dirt forms as a layer on her body.
She felt like she was about to pass out when her head is boiled by the rays of the sun.
"It would be nice if they gave me water," she asks.
The men gathered in the carriage look at her, some look away without caring about her request, others tilt their heads without understanding what she is saying. Raven repeats her words, but this time she mimics simulating clasping her hands together and drinking water.
No one listens to her.
"Why are you looking away? I am a person asking for something as basic as water. "
Raven knows that it is not because they do not understand, she is aware of the treatment that is given to women in some countries, France had not been the exception, however, the illustration and the books had penetrated deep into her soul. In her land women had been an important part of the revolution. They had united in arms when these soldiers invaded the kingdom and attacked the palace, the people had taken advantage of venting their anger towards the monarchy and bourgeoisie. It was the people who gave victory to the kingdom of the demon's head.
Perhaps she had grown too accustomed to raising her voice and being heard.
The one who she sensed was the captain leaned forward on his horse and hit her on the back with the hilt, silencing her. Raven writhed in pain, her teeth colliding with each other and her hands trembled at her sides, when she looked up the old man was looking at her with satisfaction. She looked at him with rancor and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Shaytan," he growled.
What did that mean?
The captain threw a leather bag at her feet, it is like a horn and from the sound he knows it contains water. She runs to the water, her throat feels dry as if it were made of sandpaper, she realizes that the entire caravan has stopped and there are dozens of eyes on her.
The old man on the horse is watching.
Raven's senses are activated.
She takes a small portion of water, holds it in his mouth for a few minutes trying to take small drinks and her throat thanks her. However, she takes note of the sweet taste, it is fresh as if just brought from a cold spring. She holds it in her slightly puffed cheeks so the soldiers wouldn't notice.
When there is no danger, she swallows the contents of the horn without decorum. The water that falls from her mouth she uses to moisten her body and the warm crown of her head where the sun's rays hit hardest.
"Thank you," she says to the old man, bowing her head in a kind of bow. She thinks that, if it were not for the fact that she was taken from her land, she could come to admire the man, since she had seen him worried about the health of his soldiers and distributing the supplies.
The captain raises his eyebrows, surprised.
He contemplates the empty bowl of water in his hands and looks at his soldiers "Shaytan dhaki."
Raven frowns, confused.
The next thing she remembers is being dragged towards the entrance to the city of Narba Parbat. The city has a rough beauty, the palace is a whitish construction like those foreign paintings of the eastern palaces with straight lines and the towers look like small houses stacked in earth tones. She had thought of Nanda Parbat as a city made of sand in the middle of the desert, but it has a deep oriental inspiration.
Nanba Parbat is surrounded by a wall made of stone.
The captain grabbed the rope when they reached the city gates and veered off in another direction. Her legs tangle with each other, she struggles to keep up with the gracefully trotting horse, and nearly falls several times.
She hasn't eaten anything in days and her feet are pounding. Her head begs her to stay alert, she doesn't know where this shoulder was taking her, she is a foreign girl and nobody would worry if she appears dead in the distance, she has no one to claim her and she needs to defend herself if necessary.
"Where are you taking me? "
The man turns his back on his horse.
They enter the city through another entrance, almost sighing in relief because at least more people would see if something would happen to her, even with all that, she is still a foreign girl.
They pass through a market. People stroll in robes, street vendors shout the prices of their products, there is music in the air somewhat like a flute. Large fabrics work like a makeshift ceiling, everything is cool in the market and there is a powerful smell of spices and incense in the air.
She is impressed by the colors, smells and textures.
In France there is nothing like this.
The women look at her, look scandalized, and some who walk with their children cover their eyes and take them away from her.
What is wrong with her clothing?
The captain pulls the rope, they continue to cross the market until they reach a house that is close to the royal palace. She thinks that perhaps he is going to hand her over to the authorities and they will execute her, but they deviate towards a small construction from which they see young people enter wearing elegant clothes. They are not the dresses that she is accustomed to seeing in the bourgeoisie, but soft fabrics in green and gold tones, their hair is dark, long to their back and their skin is golden or dark.
These women are delicate, like flowers and care about their appearance. She feels dirty and insignificant compared to them.
Raven frowns.
A woman opens the doors, she is plump, and a green veil covers her hair, her face covered in wrinkles, and when her gaze falls on her mouth twists down. She gives her a look from head to toe, to finally look at the man and from her mouth come a series of words that she does not understand, but surely, they are repudiation. She can feel it, she was always an intuitive person and she knows that she would not have the sympathy of this woman.
The captain responds and pulls on the rope, pulling her body forward.
The woman strides over to her and takes her hard by the chin, examining her face and touching her dirty hair. She claps her on the ribs, growling a sentence, and grimaces. She touches her hair again, pulling the strands as if she thinks the color is false, with fingers she from rubs and gem with the other hand and finds no pigment.
Raven pulls away, but her grip on her cheeks is like a hawk's claws on her prey.
The lady continues to touch the dress checking her body under the fabric, when she lifts her skirt Raven grimaces and instinctively kicks her to get away, she screams and hits her in the face. The slap is loud and leaves her cheek burning for a few seconds. She takes her face, digging her nails into her chin, yells at the captain who now looks funny, and pushes her away, as if wanting her to get as far away as possible.
"Shaytan," she growls.
Again, what does that mean?
The captain says something, and the woman looks her directly in the eyes, her mouth opens and closes for a few minutes. Finally, she grabs her arm and takes her into the room.
She doesn't have time to think about anything.
Raven screams and tries to get her to release her several times, but she is weak from walking, dehydration, lack of food and sleep, and the woman is much heavier than she is. That does not prevent her from giving up, she does not want to enter that place and she struggles with all her strength to release her. With a little luck she could escape from the city, but the woman whistles and more people are joining to take her inside.
She quickly learns what can happen for not obeying, she spends more than a month between lessons, flower baths and new clothes, she is forced to visit mosques and meet their gods, however, she does not believe that any entity comes to save her. She learns that ´´Shaytan´´ means demon in Arabic, she earns that nickname for her apparent rebellion against the authorities and the attitude that they disapprove of. She also learns that she is in a harem and that they were preparing to serve the demon head.
She shows no interest.
She is not interested in what they have to say about the leader, nor does she want to please him in any way. She has other things to worry about.
She doesn't make friends inside the harem, with every lawsuit that forms around her. Like when they tried to recite a prayer out loud and he refused, or when she escaped through a small window one night and was caught in the middle of the river in a boat. The gossip spread like wildfire and the women moved further away from her side.
A guard chases her everywhere after her frustrated escape attempt.
Raven just wants to go back to her land, she has no interest in satisfying the leader, in looking beautiful to him and ducking her head when it will happen, she doesn't want to be reminded every day that she is inferior and that her life is wrapped around a thread that supports the demon's head. She does not belong to him.
She walks through the local market pretending to be interested in fabrics and spices, she had invented an excuse ´´I need new perfume and more dresses´´ and they believed her, so they gave her a bag of gold coins to spend, while the guard walked behind her.
Out of the corner of her eye is a merchant who works in the port.
On her first getaway, she traded a handful of coins for a small pot but was unsuccessful as he was in plain sight and soon to be made aware of her absence from the harem. The merchant was famous for helping unfortunate political prisoners or lovers to flee. He bought bribes from certain authorities and infiltrated you in such a way that no one had managed to find one of his clients.
She needed to talk to him, with the coins she had she could buy her way back to her country.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she says to the guard.
The man raises his eyebrows and looks away. Raven hides behind a tent and runs away as fast as she can.
The merchant had turned to the right and when she reached him, she pulls him by the clothes so hard that he almost falls off. The man would be in his forties, of course she wouldn't be scared of a nineteen-year-old, but she is with him.
"Ah, it's you." He shakes his robes from the dust.
She gasps looking everywhere "I needed to go."
He raises one of his graying eyebrows. The language is hard on her tongue, not used to talking to others, she needs practice, Raven does not waste time and puts the bag with the coins in his hands, and the merchants feel it, as if with that she could check how much it was worth.
"No. "
What?
"Why not? "
He winces indifferently "It's very little. "
"They are gold coins."
"Listen, I know you want to abandon your life of luxury in the palace, but what I do is not legal and I risk my head every time someone important is taken out of this kingdom" he answers, as if he was explaining a subject to a little boy. "The Demon’s Head is known for his indulgence and does not like his treasures fleeing to other countries" he looks at her from head to toe.
"I don't belong to him," she spits.
"Think what you want." He rolled his eyes. He puts the bag of coins in her hands, and leaves. "Bring more gold or please your lord, shaytan. "
Raven sighs.
***
She is in the harem garden. Sitting reading on the grass regardless of whether she soils her purple dress.
The old Zaira, the director of the harem, had sent them to make different dresses for Raven, since green or gold does not go with her pale skin and would not be attractive to her lord, so they choose purple, red and blue tones. She does not the fabrics as well as the other girls. She doesn't mind getting his clothes dirty.
"I saw him." There is a murmur in the garden. The young concubines gathered among the flowers to chat with their group of friends. Raven is hidden behind a bush where she had buried a book, since she is prohibited from reading anything else that is not authorized by Zaira. "He is very handsome and young" they laugh.
She put her back against the bush wanting to hear better.
"Did he look at you? "
"He was very busy training with one of his instructors" she says, her voice is low and disappointed ", but Zaira told me that the leader has not looked at any concubine" now she sounds more animated. "He has been heavily involved in politics to have time for women. I heard one of the ministers talk about developing a new map. "
"He's so committed," another sighs.
She rolls her eyes.
"We'll dance for him next week," reports one. There is a group gasp. "Zaira confessed to me that the girl who dances best will spend a night with him, in addition to that on that night she will have access to the royal treasure and will make us choose any jewel as a gift."
Jewel?
She remembers the merchant's words; she needs a gem to secure her exit from this harem and palace which is a true nightmare.
He almost visualizes the faces of her friends, her mother tongue in her mouth and the flavors of her tender native.
She needs that gem.
***
"I want to dance. "
Raven stands in front of Zaira, the woman is giving lessons to the young women who would dance for the Demon's Head and she not included in the list.
"Who are you to demand such a thing?" She gives her a contemptuous look. "Why the sudden interest in the Lord? "
She sighs "I want to know how he is. "
A simple answer.
Raven had had experience lying, being a rebel during the revolution. She grew up on the streets, not like these women who came from wealthy families, are the daughters of soldiers and were made with a gold chisel.
"You are lucky, shaytan" with a gesture the young women open leaving a space for her to enter the group. Before she can put herself in her place, Zaira takes her arm, stopping her. "If you weren't so unusual, I would have let you go a long time ago. I did not accept you out of courtesy, but by the lord. If you make one of your numbers, I will personally see to it that you disappear from this palace."
She smiles sweetly at her. "Don't worry. I matured, I am dedicated to faith now and I understood that I owe everything to the Demon’s Head."
During her time as a rebel she was not a lone player, she was happy to surround herself with a group and find others who would fight for the same thing, the common good above all. She did not expect to find her rebels here, maybe if not they will threaten her so much could look at them well.
Zaira released her arm giving him a suspicious look, but she settled with a smile between the concubines and pretended that the woman's words meant nothing. She had managed to become one of the concubines who would dance for the Demon's Head, now she had to get his attention and win that night where he would give her the most expensive jewel that would ensure her exit from this cursed kingdom.
***
When the night came when they would appear in the Demon's Head’s room, the leader would be sitting on a throne with his back to the doors of his room and when he chose one of the concubines everything would stop, the unselected women would return to the harem where they would not go out, unless the selected one was not liked by the leader and that is a humiliation. The selected one would be chosen not only for her beauty, but for her way of dancing and as it pleases the Lord. When she is chosen, she would make her way through the room and announce herself, as tradition dictates.
Raven had been enlisting all day among scented baths, fragrances, worthless little jewels, and elaborate dresses. She decides again with the dressmaker that there wouldn't be a green dress for her, instead she has a blue dress with gold accents and thinks that's enough.
They are not allowed to show their faces, so they emphasize their eyes with black eyeliner, and she thinks she looks like a blue cat.
"We want the color of your eyes to stand out the most," the woman says with a brush.
She did not know why these people are so obsessed with the color of her eyes and her short hair that is dark, it is supposed to be because she are foreign.
When they walk to the hall where the ceremony would take place, she realizes that she is nervous, her hands itch and she feels like a prey in her dress. The color of her dress draws the attention of the other concubines, since they chose colors such as green and the gold that is used by the Demon's Head, not a bright blue.
The interior of the palace is luxurious, with its gleaming floors and gold trim. The air has a scent of essences and incense, distinguishes small lighted bowls whose smoke perfumes the corridors.
"I don't think the Demon's Head is fixed on the French one."
She knows that she is not appreciated within the harem for her behavior, although she had calmed down in the past few days as she is focused on getting that gem. These girls did not have to worry about her, because she would get the jewel and disappear forever, it would be as if she had never arrived.
Doors open and she stiffens.
"Don't raise your head. Don't look him in the eye unless you are selected” Zaira instructs in a harsh voice.
She feels his eyes on her body, and Raven smiles to herself.
When they enter, they form a perfect circle in the center just as they had rehearsed. Raven turns her back on the throne but knows it's there. The musicians are positioned to the side, their instruments in their hands ready for the signal from the Demon's Head, and they begin to play.
She takes the group's hands; they make a round, tracing patterns with their feet to the rhythm of the music. The typical music of these areas is different from that of her land, Zaira had said that her hips were rough, and she needs to balance them to the sound of the songs, it is like holding an instrument only with her hips. It's very strange.
The others follow the choreography without difficulty, but have trouble keeping up and think this is boring.
The same routine: they hold hands, turn, move their feet and hips, make waves with their hands, hold hands, and they would follow the process.
Zaira said that this dance represents femininity and fertility, an act of seduction, but this is tedious and she does not imagine what it is to have to witness one of these dances once a week, it is not surprising that the man had not decided on anyone.
She decides to look up a bit and is surprised by the youth of the demon's head, he would be about twenty years old, golden skin and green eyes. He had on a jade green robe that revealed a muscular torso, high black pants and there is a ring with a large diamond on his index finger.
He is not even looking; he is concentrating on his sword listening to Zaira who probably talks to him about the concubines because of the way her head glances at each one.
The Demon's Head is a handsome and rich man, with a ring on his finger, if she earned it she would have her ticket paid to her land.
Compared to these girls, she had nothing to lose.
She leaves the dance, the musicians freeze, the concubines stop and look down, Zaira is red with anger and her teeth clench so hard that she is sure to have some chipped teeth.
The leader leans forward following her movements, carrying a sword in his hand that he is not using, so she does not think he considers her as a threat. He looks impartial, his expression is blank, and it is difficult for Raven to know what he is thinking, perhaps he does not consider her prank so funny. There is no way back.
Raven positions herself in front of the concubines, bows her head in reverence, and walks back with her head down; the other women make way for her and step aside. She can feel her anger up to here.
The musicians begin to play a different, softer tune and try to follow her. She is not good at moving her hips like the natives, but she knows her own charm and tries to show it. She raises her arms allowing her wide sleeves to reveal skin up to her elbows.
It is forbidden to show skin.
The harem director is scandalized.
She turns and takes off her shoes, leaving her feet bare. She does not know where she gets so much daring, especially in the face of a society as conservative as that of Nanda Parbat, but the man in front of her has been in battles, contemplating deaths and his army is known as the league of assassins, it´s not like he is a saint.
Her dress had an opening, it is almost invisible, it would only reveal up to the knees, she knows that Zaira has not seen it and it reveals the skin of her leg almost by accident. She is aware that her features are strange, people whispering for her pale tone and servants would try to make her take on a more attractive shade sunbathing, but it has not worked and she does not look cute when the sun hurts her skin giving it a red tone, like a shrimp.
One of the musicians drops his instrument and has to run to pick it up.
He still hadn't killed her or screamed for her daring, that's good.
She raises her eyes, sees how an eyebrow rises when their gazes intertwine, and she has never seen a more beautiful and masculine face like his. Tradition says that concubines should wear veils that cover their hair, face and waist, but they had already broken a rule, why not two?
She had been a rebel in her country, here too.
She takes out the scarf that she keeps around her waist, caresses her face with the fabric, as well as her torso until she reaches her waist, he remains as neutral as ever, but follows the path of the scarf and it is a good sign. She smiles under the scarf that covers her nose and mouth; it is a true smile.
She approaches turning to where the leader is, the handkerchief in her hands flies and moves her hips, letting him see her bare feet and legs, crouches back in strides allowing him to see her cleavage and now he gulps.
Her hair is tied under a veil in a transparent blue shade, she caresses her hair looking at the man directly in the eyes, her hands go down her collarbone, between her breasts and her stomach.
Raven smiles at him as one of her hands quickly goes up to her face cupping her left cheek. She feels the evil, mischief and lust within her intertwined in this dance, it's like a statement.
When the music ends, she is sitting on the floor bowing with a smile on her face. She is tired, but something inside her jumps with happiness to get his attention, she thinks it would be fun to see how far this man would let her go.
"Who are you? "
She feels the tension in his voice and closes her eyes tight. Shit, maybe she was wrong, and her breach of tradition was stronger than she thought.
"She is a foreigner, sir. I'll get her out of here, if ... "
"Did I ask you, Zaira?" He interrupts her.
Raven sighs.
"I asked you a question." Raven shuddered at the harsh sound in the man's voice. "Look me in the eye when I speak to you. "
She looks up, their eyes meet, and she feels a tug in her insides, he probably also felt it because the man recoils a few inches on his throne. Perhaps the maid who had made her up was right and her eyes did stand out through the makeup, it makes her look mysterious and more feline.
She remembers that even with the cold tone of this man, he is still the one who followed the path of the scarf over her figure.
"They call me shaytan, my lord."
"That can't be your real name."
"I have abandoned my old name. Embraced the customs of Nanda Parbat along with my new name."
Zaira shakes her head and narrows her eyes in her direction.
A smile formed on the lips of the Demon's Head "You were noticed when you interrupted the dance of the concubines. Did you know that it is a tradition that takes more than a hundred years? "
The concubines exchanged a look of alert, since the leader had not given them a sideways glance and is conversing with the foreigner.
"I thought you needed entertainment, my lord." She trailed off the nickname justifying the accent and her intermediate command of Arabic. The Demon's Head realized.
The leader observed Zaira and whispered something in her ear, the woman grimaced in disgust and ordered those present to leave.
What did this mean?
Raven looked down again, as the room emptied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the concubines open their eyes in surprise, some of them trying to hide their anger and glancing hatefully towards her.
Zaira grimaces, just by seeing her she can see the promise of revenge in her eyes.
The room was completely empty.
Had she succeeded?
She was chosen?
The Demon's Head stood up, the sword is now in its scabbard, and his green cloak rippled through the air as it followed. He opens the doors behind the throne, they lead to a dark room whose only lights are lighted metal fountains, a polished wood floor, the windows are open. She has a view of the entire kingdom that is represented in small lights, there is a bed in the center of the room and small furniture where there is a pile of parchments in different positions.
Sheets hang from the ceiling, swaying to the rhythm of the warm wind. Where they come from, they would not think of having the windows open day and night, since it was always very cold.
The room is beautiful.
"Come in," he orders.
Now his voice has a boring note, as if he had experienced this before and had the predicted ending. Raven's life was never fun, she had a difficult childhood with an abusive father and ran away when she was just a girl. Preferring to live on the streets where she found friends, she had a reason to fight and now she is here in front of a ruler; but his life was written in stone, marked by traditions and customs. What a disappointing life.
He sits on the edge of the bed and leaves the sword on a piece of furniture.
"Take off your veils and clothes."
Is this what this would be like?
Raven is not someone with a sex life as active as Richard or Kory, she had had a short list of loves that had not led to anything important, however, she was not supposed to start a sexual relationship this way. She wonders how little fun this relationship must have been for this man; she surely has a protocol to follow when it comes to these things and she thinks it's horrible.
Not that she is an expert, in fact her experience is limited.
He is now looking at her, as if she had no objections. Raven raises a hand to the scarf that covers her hair, but her hands get tangled and it's a lie.
"I can't take off my scarf."
She realizes that she is nervous, but still needs to make a good impression and leave him so happy that he would guarantee a gem.
Pretend a face of innocence "Can you help me, my lord? "
He sighs and gestures for her to come closer. Raven listens to him, but does not do exactly what he wants, but turns her back on him.
"Are you making fun of me?" He says, undoing the scarf over his hair, there is still one more that covers half her face.
"I never would, my lord."
But he is laughing.
His hands are warm, and he stays longer than necessary at the nape of her neck and traces a path to the clavicle and down to her chest. No one had ever touched her like this, as if she were something soft, and she sighed under his hands, stopping the rapid advance, took his hands stopping him on purpose and gave him a kiss on the palm.
Not yet.
He freezes.
Raven turns around, looks him directly in the eye. His eyes are green like jade, it looks like river water or the color of moss that is born from humidity.
She runs a hand through her hair, her short hair caresses her shoulders and one of her hands buries her buds feeling the texture and the smell of flowers they used to bathe her.
"I've never seen hair this color before," he whispers. He caresses her hair feeling the softness, he looks into her eyes, his eyes are deep, and they leave her breathless. "Where did you come from, shaytan? "
A malicious smile springs from her lips. The protocol of visits to the demon's head had been explained to her, only he could touch and ask to be pleased, the concubine existed to give pleasure, not to receive it.
"Perhaps from a nightmare, sir," she replies.
Raven caresses her chest, feels his bare skin, it’s covered with small scars and tenses when there is skin-to-skin contact, but he doesn't push away. He’s warm, just as she expected, and her thumb traces a scar across his ribs, he gasps and stands up.
"You don't look like a nightmare."
"Oh, I can teach you what I can do, and it will change your mind," she replies. With the back of her hand, she runs through his muscles until it sits on the clavicle, where she traces the protruding bone and notices the scars.
The Demon's Head does nothing.
She thinks she has done something wrong, that he would kick her out, but instead he just looks at her.
He is taller than she, he has a tall head and has to tilt his head to look her in the eye. Violet meets green, Raven could drown in his eyes and die, suddenly she is afraid of being rejected, because he will call someone else and live thinking about what she might have.
He advances, his hands traveling to the veil that covers her nose and mouth, a small dagger in his hand breaks the fabric with agility and it falls to the ground.
He gasps when he looks at her face.
He looks without fabrics to separate them for the first time and Raven feels like they've gotten rid of a wall. Her hands tremble at the sides of her body, her legs are two branches shaken by the wind and the heat settles at the base of the stomach, it is like fire and she doesn't mind burning herself.
He looks like a statue, static, but she feels how his eyes make her feverish, she imagines herself touching and how the most powerful man in the Middle East melts under her palms; she is sure that he is thinking the same. Zaira's voice is strong in her head:
If he chooses you, I don't think so, shaytan. You are not allowed to take the first step, the head of the devil as the supreme leader of your life and the empire must be who determines what the act will be like. No games.
They endorse each other, when their lips meet it is an uncomfortable kiss because it is a collapse of teeth and a fight for whoever has control over the other's lips, and they cannot find a position that accommodates them, but soon he tilts his head and it is much more functional. His hands are all over the place, he touches her torso through the corset, her waist and hip to her rear where his hands stop.
Raven gasps loudly, letting the sound sweep through the room without worrying about being heard; He runs his hands over her torso enjoying the firm skin under the pads of his fingers and runs a hand down her smooth back through the fabric. Sure, the cloth is there and it's annoying, she has to take it off. He throws the robe to the ground without caring about how he does it, the fabric falls apart into threads, leaving half torn in place.
He is kissing her hard and Raven laces his hands around her neck to help wrap her legs around his torso. The openings in the dress don't allow her to do this, but he slides a dagger to break the skirt and ends with two slits down to the hips.
Raven laughs against his mouth, but quickly stops doing it as he shifts his attention to her neck, placing butterfly kisses on her skin until he goes down to her collarbone and is too excited to feel anything else.
Sighs.
He tightens her hair, and feels her tense, now he runs his tongue over her neck to her ear. Raven writhes like a worm.
To punish him she pushes her hips against the base of his stomach, dangerously close to his crotch. The man now stops and watches her, as if she had done something very wrong.
The burning fire plays with his face and Raven gives him a look of innocence deciding to ignore his erection through his pants. This is the same man who had observed her with a neutral face while dancing.
There is a knife in his hands, and he is tearing the dress. The knife comes down through the ribbons on her back and the corset is out, left in a plain dress that falls square in a pale blue hue.
"You destroyed a dressmaker's job, sir," but she's already raising her arms for him to take off her dress.
He has a better idea because he draws her to his body, wraps his arms around her waist, and his hands intertwine at the start of her butt.
"I'll have another one made for you." He kisses her so hard she leans back.
There is a smile on her lips. In her life she has seen beautiful men, she can sit down to contemplate some faces and bodies, but this man is on another level, it seems that he was made by an angel who wants to replicate the most beautiful thing he has seen in an individual.
"Anyway, they did me to take it away from you."
The next time they meet they are slower but want to touch each other. Raven lets him have her entire body exposed like no other man in her life, he may have a kingdom, but her resides within these four walls.
In the tradition it is dictated that the man should always be on top, it is not allowed that the woman is the one who rode him, but they experience everything, and they do not care about customs.
He squeezes her breasts and Raven sighs increasing speed. She would kiss him hard, biting and finding his tongue, the Demon's Head looks like a moldable object under her hands and it's fun, but she’s also slipping.
She gives herself to him and if he asked her for anything, she would do it without thinking.
"Called me Damian," he confesses between kisses, when they are exhausted and sweat drips down their bodies. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths. "That's my name. "
She looks at him askance. Her body is sore, she is sure she has more than love bite on her neck, stomach and breasts, her hair is a sweaty mess, she cannot even brush it with her fingers due to the number of knots, she feels irritation on her thigh where He had bitten her, it would leave a scar, and her lips are swollen and aching.
"So, you're not called Demon Head, Damian?" mocks.
He clicks his tongue and winces when he turns to look at her. A sheet covers part of his body, but he is naked; looking at his sculpted torso there are scratches, bites and bruises, she does not want to see the chaos that is his back.
Did she do that?
"What about you, Shaytan?"
She grimaces as she looks out, the mountain range looms in the distance and the lights of the kingdom are dimming, welcoming a new dawn.
"I had it somewhere else," she sighs. "When I lived on my land, I had a name, but I discarded it. Now I don't know what to think. "
She drops onto the bed, the mattress is soft, and the sheets are made of a delicate material, it's like butter. Her head does not touch the pillows, the bed is too big for two people to cover the entire space, she is sure that it is made for him, he will invite more than one lover to his rooms.
She wonders how many people have touched him the way she had.
It is now her life, dancing and trying to attract the attention of a man who has at his disposal a multitude of lovers. Maybe she had enjoyed it so much that she held on too soon.
"Do you want me to keep calling you Shaytan?"
She looked at the ceiling. The bed has a ceiling made of carved wood covered by fabrics in golden patterns that fall down the sides, just like the veil that he had torn from her face with his dagger.
Maybe if he hadn't been so permissive with her ...
Could she answer a name nicknamed by others for your attitude?
"They call me Raven," she confesses. Her voice is monotonous, devoid of all humor, and in the bed of the leader of the nation who had ripped her from her land, she realizes that perhaps she had not completely left her name, but she is still a demon. "Can we keep it as our secret, sir? " She watches him.
He focuses his gaze on the ceiling, meditates for a few minutes, and nods.
Raven smiles.
She takes the sheet from him and rises from the bed muttering a complaint about the pain in a certain area, and searches the floor for her clothes, but finds her dress cut. She is not willing to walk to the harem in a torn, dirty and stained dress.
"Where are you going? "
She looks at him.
When she sees him, she thinks that maybe they were too abrupt, since Damian's eyes are swollen and red, as well as his mouth and scratches on his arms, red marks on his neck and torso, as well as pieces of cloth on the bed.
"Isn't it just for one night?" The question. Zaira told her that the selected one would only stay one night with the demon's head, and after a time she would be called, only if she pleased her lord.
"Stay another day."
Raven contemplates the idea, has no objection.
"I have no clothes."
"You don't need them."
Okay, so maybe she could get used to this faster than she thinks.
You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees
Calling your name, the only language I can speak
(FanFiction soon)
118 notes · View notes
alottanothing · 5 years ago
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Left to Ruin: Chapter Four
 Summary: Prince Ahkmenrah returns to his beloved capital city, to find someone he cares about has left. Merenkarhe steps down as ruler and names his son King of Egypt, and his daughter Queen.
Previous Chapters
Word Count: 5696
Warnings: none
Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)
A/N: Thank you all for the comments, likes and reblogs last chapter! They all make me feel like the 🥰 emoji. Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible. As a helpful guide: Ahk is 17 and his sister is 13 by the end of this chapter. Just so it’s clearer given that there’s a bit of a time jump in the middle of this chapter.
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It was a vastly different thing, watching the world from the window of his cabin pass after spending two years immersing himself in every sight, smell, and sound. But that was where Ahkmenrah felt safe: in the cabin, next to the window. All the sights that had enthralled him when they made their way north now had no luster; it was just sand and river and sky. He wanted to be home.
The night a man sought to take his life; Ahkmenrah lacked the want to move from the corner he rooted himself in. He’d stayed awake until dawn and well after, too afraid to close his eyes for fear of opening them to another attacker. Kamuzu and the pharaoh never strayed from his side, but respected his want for silence; perhaps one day he would find the strength to talk about what had happened, but not one soon. When sleep did come, the prince spent it tossing and turning, his dreams vague but ominous. They wove a narrative his conscious mind had difficulty piecing together; like sand through his fingers, his nightmares slipped into obscurity once he was awake. Ahkmenrah figured that was for the best.
Finally, the evening before he was to arrive back in the capital, Ahkmenrah was blessed with a slumber that was black and empty; providing him with ample rest to keep the demons at bay. He didn’t want to return home with an aura of fear emitting from him. He was a prince; he wanted to arrive as one.
The sun was high overhead when the pharaoh’s vessels docked in Waset’s market port, and Ahkmenrah mustered his courage to step onto the deck for the first time since leaving Men-nefer. After days in the shade, his body craved the golden light beaming upon everything in sight. The welcomed heat tingled over his starved skin and worked a languid smile onto his lips. Even his worries burned and vanished under the powerful heat. The fragrance of spices from merchant stalls on the shore mixed curiously with the briny water of the Nile, and Ahkmenrah filled his lungs with that strange coupling over and over until he fixated it in his memory.
The prince blinked until he found his focus, and he swore he could feel the black of his eyes narrow to needle points in the bright light. The palace was the first thing he saw, and it made him smile. His heart yearned to be home just as much as it had yearned to see the marvels of Egypt. The towering walls of his palace in the distance served as a reminder to those he left behind, the faces he missed and would revel in seeing again.
His father was close by, supervising the men preparing the chariots that would parade them back to the palace in an echo of their initial send-off. His father turned when he heard him approaching and gave him his usual closed-lip smile.
“I'm pleased to see you out, Ra’s light will do you good.”
Ahk couldn’t help but agree, only a few minutes out of the shadows of his cabin and he felt anew.
“I am arranging for a platoon of guards to escort you back to the palace in secret,” the pharaoh idly said, his focus still overseeing the men working on the chariots.
“No,” Ahk said firmly.
Meren’s brow hoisted into an arch.
“I need to ride in on a chariot too,” Ahkmenrah told him, tired of being afraid. “I don’t wish to dwell on what happened. The sooner I am back to a usual routine the better.”
Merenkahre’s smile was toothy and almost grander than the sun shining overhead. He pulled his son into his arms for a quick, but tight embrace, praising his Ahkmenrah’s bravery.
The prince and the pharaoh both donned the most stately of their attire; all the gold, and gems shimmering like the light reflecting off of the surface of the Nile--casting about hundreds of prisms. Ahk felt rejuvenated by his regal raiment; he wore it proudly, wanting whoever it had been that sought to destroy him to know they had failed. Once more, the common people gathered in crowds to greet them with cheers and awed expressions. Ahk cast a smile to them each feeling a revival of his spirit swelling to combat all the apprehension that plagued him the past few days.
His smile remained even after he found himself back within the palace walls, and the end of his journey was marked by the sound of the gates shutting behind him. There was a bittersweetness in the thunderous echo of those shutting gates; they meant his time as an adventurer was over and duty awaited. More importantly, they signaled he was safe in the company of people who cared about him.
Shepseheret was waiting on the steps of the palace, as though she had stood there for two years awaiting their return. She wore a warm smile on her lips that was more beautiful to behold then all the heavens, and the surrounding gardens combined. Merenkahre pulled her into a long embrace, lifting her into a passionate kiss as her feet kicked behind her. Ahkmenrah smiled at the two of them, their love more real than the earth under his feet at that moment. The king and queen lingered, heads tilted together for a prolonged moment, reveling in the presence of the other. His father whispered something, and Ahkmenrah watched his mother's blithe features slip into something darker. She hastily pulled him into a powerful embrace, laying several kisses to the top of his head.
“My darling Ahkmen!” Her words were muffled as she spoke against the crown of his head. “You are safe now.”
“I’m fine mother,” he assured her.
Merenkahre cleared his throat and the queen ceased her fussing, smoothing out her son’s curls with a smile.
“The prince and I must speak to the council,” the pharaoh announced.
Shepseheret rolled her eyes and sighed, fondly shaking her head.
“Always business with you two. Go on,” she urged inclining her head toward the palace. “I’ll be in the West Garden waiting to hear all about your adventures.”
Ahkmenrah beamed at his mother and promised to do so before turning to follow his father to the council chamber.
The pharaoh’s slew of advisors filed into the council room and took their seats wearing looks of surprise on their faces. An unspoken question lingered about the room: what had their king and his son back in the capital a day and a half early? Kahmunrah was the only one who had not yet arrived--his empty chair next to Badru practically screaming his absence into the mostly silent interior.
“Let me begin by clearing up any rumors that may have traveled faster than we could,” Merenkahre began. “We find ourselves home early due to an unfortunate incident in Men-nefer. My son was almost slain by an assassin.”
A collective gasp filled the chamber, and every councilor offered some form of condolence or proclamation they were glad the attempt on the prince’s life had failed. Ahkmenrah sat quietly and nodded his thanks, not wanting to focus on what had happened.
“It is my intention to send men north to sniff out potential threats and report back so that we may prevent future attacks,” the pharaoh stated.
More of the advisors nodded, some of them mentioning potential culprits that might seek to destroy the monarch. Merenkahre waved his hand however, also--it seemed--not wanting to put any more focus on what happened in Men-nefer.
“Now that, that is out of the way, would someone mind telling me where my eldest son is?” The pharaoh’s irritation was obvious in the flair of his nostrils and pursed lips as he eyed the only empty chair at the table.
“Kahmunrah is finishing up matters in the throne room, my pharaoh,” one of the men said.
Merenkahre nodded as some of the frustration in his features ebbed. The pharaoh scratched at his chin and tossed a glance around the table before he spoke again, “How did Kahmunrah fair governing the nation and the people?”
Ahkmenrah sat up a little straighter, his own interest piqued. He spent more than one night while he was away wondering how his brother would do with a taste of so much power. A part of the prince feared he would return to a ruin or a pile of ash--Kah did so love violence. Surely that would show through with his method of ruling. The advisors, however, surprised both the prince and the pharaoh. The consensus commended Kahmunrah, noting only a few times the advisors had to step in to keep him from acting too rashly on an occasion.
“What was the matter he acted out on?” Merenkahre asked, brows furrowing.
“Theft, concerning a family of servants, my pharaoh,” one of the men explained.
“What was stolen?”
“The Tablet of Ahkmenrah,” the man said.
The pharaoh glanced at his son, and Ahk’s face held the same look of shock and confusion. His father promised that few knew about the magical tablet, or where it was kept--Ahkmenrah didn’t even know it had existed. How would servants have known where to find such a thing?
“Where is the tablet now?” Meren asked.
“Back in its temple. It was recovered only a day or so ago,”
The pharaoh frowned; and even to Ahkmenrah that sounded suspicious, but he wasn’t sure why.
“And what became of the servants who supposedly stole it?” the pharaoh asked.
“Kahmunrah wished to execute them, publicly, but it couldn’t be proven that they were culpable, so they were exiled from the palace grounds.”
Merenkahre thought a moment, digesting all that had been brought to light until finally, he nodded.
“Very well, what matters is, that it is back where it belongs.”
The sound of the chamber door opening and the cadence of footfalls that followed caused everyone to shift their attention to the door as Kahmunrah swaggered in. He was dressed in the most regal of his garments--outshining the king himself.
“Good of you to join us, Kahmunrah,” Merenkahre said in a tone that was somewhere between being genuine and annoyed all at once--taking note of how his eldest son presented himself.
Kah situated himself in his usual seat between Badru and Ahkmenrah, his hubris radiating and blatantly offensive.
“How does my little brother fair after such terrible slights in Men-nefer?” Kah gave his brother a look of concern that was almost mocking, and it made Ahk’s stomach slosh sickly.
“How did you hear about what happened in Men-nefer?” Merenkahre probed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Kah blinked, suddenly looking as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and threw the pharaoh a crooked smile and a shrug.
“Rumors spread quicker than wildfire, father. I heard about it a day ago--I was assured that my dear brother was safe, so I went about the business that you tasked me with.”
Merenkahre held his son’s gaze for a long time before letting the scrutiny fade and moved on. The rest of the council meeting went about as normal, and Ahkmenrah endured it all as he was expected to, putting in his two cents where he felt was necessary. He was tired and longed for the few hours to himself he knew would follow; Ahk wanted to hug his mother again and revel in her warmth. He wanted to see his little sister. Mostly, he wanted to find Nouke and tell her all the stories he promised to bring back with him.
***
Ahkmenrah’s feet found a leisure pace as he wandered the familiar hall of his home with Kamuzu at most a few steps behind. The corridors were nearly vacant as the day began to draw to a close; only a few stragglers still tended to their chores, and he hoped that Nouke was done with hers. A fresh warmth bubbled inside of him as his feet carried across the stone floor, it was a thrill he knew came with the notion of seeing his friend again. His grin was hard to quell and his heart beat with an unfamiliar fervor just thinking about his friend from the garden; alien or not, Ahk relished in the new sensation.
As promised, he found his mother in the West Garden, seated on the edge of the central fountain with Setshepsut beside her. His sister was playing idly with the lily pads floating on the water's surface, and it wasn’t until their mother nudged her with her elbow that the princess turned to see her brother approaching.
“Ahkmen!” Her face burst into a smile and she ran to greet him; the lily pads suddenly forgot.
She crashed into him with such force Ahk almost tumbled backward. Set had definitely grown while he was away. The top of her head was just under his chin, but she still held the same childlike wonder that she’d possessed when he left her.
“I missed you!” she said, squeezing him tight.
She’d definitely gotten stronger too, he mused matching the intensity of her embrace.
“I missed you more.” He kissed the top of her head, causing her to grin.
Shepseheret was the next one to fold her arms around him tenderly--a mother's embrace. Her dark eyes sparkled with the onslaught of tears as she cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs sweeping back and forth.
“My heart ached while you were away,” she confessed and kissed his forehead at his hairline. “Look how handsome you are; my little boy left and returned a man.”
Ahkmenrah pulled his lip between his teeth and smiled, drawing his mother and his sister into another embrace. It was an almost perfect moment--Nouke was the only one missing.
“I have so many stories to tell--and gifts,” Ahk said looking to each of them. “I even brought some home for Nouke.”
His mother and sister exchanged a brief look, and Ahk felt the atmosphere in the garden shift suddenly. A heavy sorrow hung in the air and cast a veil over his mother's features strong enough to twist Ahk’s own smile into a frown.
“Nouke and her family left the palace, Ahkmen,” his mother said softly. “I’m so sorry, my love. I know what she meant to you.”
Something dark and less forgiving than fear crept into him, his heart hammered but ached with every fervent beat. His throat was tight and dry.
“What?” His voice was shakey.
“She left,” his sister affirmed, sounding just as grief-stricken as he felt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t watch out for her like you asked me too.”
Ahkmenrah threw his sister a smile that was much too heavy to hold longer than a second or two.
“They left while I was away hosting the Festival of Isis--not long after you and your father left. I don’t know why they went. I would have asked had I been here.”
There was sadness in his mother’s eyes too, and he recalled that Maketaten, Nouke’s mother, had been her friend as well. Ahk wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone they cared about, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
Ahk could feel tears brewing in his eyes, and he struggled to hold them. It wasn’t princely to cry. He didn’t want her to be gone. Why would she have left him?
“But I promised to tell her stories,” Ahk murmured more to the ground than to anyone.
His mother scooped him back into her arms to soothe him.
“Oh my sweet boy,” she said holding him together. “I know.”
***
Despite the heaviness that troubled his heart, grieving the absence of his friend, Ahkmenrah had little time to dwell on his sorrow. In less than a week of returning to Waset, he was named Pharaoh of Egypt--ruler of the land of his father.
The day of his coronation was a whirl of fittings and lavishness that made his head spin. He was decorated with extra fine linens, a jeweled collar that glittered at even the slightest of movements and befitting of a king. He was given gold, gem incrested bracelets, and belts. Down his back trailed a flowing cape that shown like sunlight and billowed like reeds caught in a breeze. The final touch was the heavy kohl around his eyes, dark and precise to define the stormy grey-blue of his irises.
It was the first time that he truly felt like a king and Ahkmenrah had to stifle the prideful smirk growing on his lips; the confidence however, he radiated gladly. He entered the throne room chest out and chin high; eyes trained to where his father waited at the throne. Ahk had practiced that moment the evening before and a dozen more times in his head, but nothing compared to the reality. In his chest, his heart was beating at an impossible rhythm; a mixture of nerves and excitement. His feet were the opposite. Each step seemed to glide across the polished stone of the grand hall. There was a crowd of faces around him--a rally of priests, advisors, and noblemen. He could feel their watchful eyes the moment he entered the room, but as he walked nearer his destiny, they swiftly became nothing more than the hieroglyphs in the background on the walls.
A proud smile was painted on Merenkahre’s face as he watched his son approach. He was dressed simply for a man who had not yet abdicated the rule of pharaoh: no capes or furs, just regal garments akin to anyone of noble birth. Ahkmenrah would always remember how strange that moment was seeing his father dressed so modestly.
The prince knelt before his father, and Merenkahre stood. Without a word, Meren removed his crown and placed it on his son's head. When Ahkmenrah stood, the room around him, including his father fell to their knees in a show of loyalty to their new king.
The evening passed just as swiftly as the morning, taking on a significantly less formal tone. As was a tradition for the new king, a parade followed the ceremony in the throne room which allowed the common people a gander at their new ruler. To a degree, riding in the chariot surrounded by a squadron of guards and Medjay felt less like a celebration and more like he was marching off to war. Their militaristic formation around all sides prompted the new pharaoh to wonder if such precaution was custom or a side effect of the mishap that had happened in Men-Nefer a week prior.
Nevertheless, Ahkmenrah flashed a pearly smile to all his subjects, waving to the children who gazed up at him in wonder--a part of him wishing he could take the time to thank them all for their loyalty. His eyes did scan the crowd for a familiar face; a face that he had kept in his mind during his years away, but in the sea of faces, none of them were familiar.
While the celebration in the courtyard was to honor his coronation with feasting, drink, and entertainment, Ahkmenrah still managed to spend most of the convivial fete conducting essential matters of the crown--the weight of his newly acquired headdress already cumbersome on his shoulders. For hours, he smiled and laughed and spoke with important men campaigning for a seat at his council table, some of whom he met on his pilgrimage, but the majority were strangers. Most hung on him with overcooked praise that Ahk was not fooled enough to buy into. He wanted good men to guide him--just men. Not the pretenders who swarmed him like a flock of circling vultures to a carcass--no. Ahk was not interested in how they could help the crown. He much preferred the opinions of the men who were not afraid to tell him they thought him too young or inexperienced to rule--the ones who spoke such things with respect instead of contempt. Ahkmenrah understood their caution. Their fear stemmed from the loyalty they had to the realm; men who wanted the best for Egypt, and not themselves. Those were the men who would guide him to make choices that ensured he kept the Maat teachings and fed the land instead of lead it to ruin.
***
The pharaoh Ahkmenrah sat on his throne with his heart beating rather nervously in his chest. The celebration of his coronation lasted well into the night, and admittedly, once all the official matters were seen to; he'd indulged a little too deeply for a man with a river of responsibilities awaiting him at dawn. While his heart hammered, his head pulsed with it--too much to drink. His throat was dry, and he was sure only the entire Nile could quench his thirst. Still, Ahk built himself a more or less gathered composure, dressed in his new golden robes and raiment, and perched himself on his throne to begin the rest of his life with what dignity he could scrounge up.
More than a dozen men stood before him, their expressions stoic. Some had been a part of his father’s council while others, he could recall their faces from the night before. Ahk knew they were waiting on him to begin; the scrutiny in their keenly focused eyes altogether unsettling. Despite almost a lifetime of practices, actually being king felt profoundly strange. The nervous sensation was akin to standing on a ledge much too high, readying to jump: stomach queasy at the thought of not sticking the landing. Even so, Ahkmenrah corrected his slouched posture, cleared his throat, and lept.
“First, I should thank you all for your loyalty, to myself and the empire,” he spoke, doing his best to mimic the bravado his father always used when he was making a declaration.
“I find it only fitting my Grand Consul be handed to a man who knows the struggles of the crown first hand: Merenkahre, my father--do you accept this charge?”
The pharaoh’s father fell into a kneel and bowed his head.
“It will be my honor, my king, to serve you and the empire.”
Ahkmenrah had to keep from grinning at how ridiculous it was to hear his father address him as king. He also found it difficult to quell the significant weight suddenly gone from his shoulders with the knowledge he would have his father’s guidance during his rule. It lent the confidence he needed to press on without fearing a tremor would shake his hand or crack his voice.
The pharaoh moved on, naming men to his council: some he let keep their positions, others, Ahk dismissed or granted new power. The most notable replacement being Kahmunrah as Consul of Montu--keeper of war and the position he had been preparing for most of his life.
The pharaoh’s older brother let a sardonic chuckle escape and echo in the hall, a contemptuous titter that caused all the newly appointed advisors to send him a glare.
“Do you not want the position, then?” Ahkmenrah asked, brow raised.
Kah’s wry features gradually fell into a look of disbelief and mild embarrassment. His dark eyes scanned over the faces looking to him with such scorn; he fell to his knees too, and the realization sank in.
“No, broth--my king.” Kah swallowed. “I would be honored to hold such a mantle.”
“Than it is yours.”
Once all the seats had been filled, Ahkmenrah felt he could breathe a little easier; being pharaoh was not going to be as tricky as he thought.
He dismissed the men who didn’t make the cut, thanking them for their time, and those who had been replaced, he thanked for their service to the former king and the empire. The rest he addressed collectively, as he had seen his father do.
“At this moment, are there any other matters that need immediate attention?”
Tak-Sharu, the pharaoh’s high priest took a step forward, cupping his hands and bowed before he spoke, “There is the matter of a queen, your majesty. A pharaoh needs a queen so that heirs can be produced and taught to continue Egypt's great empire.”
A queen? Akh’s brow furrowed and suddenly he was nervous again. Before he could speak, however, Merenkahre stepped forward as well.
“This matter has already been decided,” he told both the pharaoh and the priest.
Ahkmenrah’s brows creased further, “It has?”
Merenkahre nodded, looking more regal and kingly at that moment than the pharaoh himself. “In two years' time, my daughter, Setshepsut will be of childbearing age, whereupon; Ahkmenrah will wed her and she shall rule at his side as queen.”
Immediately, Ahk felt his heart sink and his stomach churn; the frown that threatened to twist onto his features was difficult to deter, but he managed to retain an indifferent composure. To keep bloodlines pure, it was common such marriages were arranged. Ahk knew his father’s first wife had been his sister. Even knowing it was custom did little to combat the unpleasant feeling that seeped down to his very bones. He loved Setshepsut. They harnessed a bond that no one could ever sever, but Ahkmenrah knew his feelings would never grow beyond that.
“Very well,” the pharaoh sighed, suddenly bereft and disinterested in the rest of whatever the council had to say. He had been king less than a day and already he felt golden shackles fastening tighter around his wrists.
***
The first two years of Ahkmenrah’s rule were prosperous, but the young king spent many meetings and royal affairs second-guessing every decision he made. Having to carry so much weight on his shoulders was a grueling task--one that he was determined to master. Every day was easier; he leaned on his father’s advice less and less as his confidence grew. His life fell into a routine of mornings at prayer, early afternoons in the throne room addressing civilian matters and evenings with his advisors in the council chambers. The days were long and arduous, and so different than the lazy hours spent with his friend in the West Garden or along the Nile. But being able to help the people he ruled was almost worth the sacrifice--almost.
The day he wed his sister, Ahkmenrah woke with knots in his stomach.
They were entirely too dissimilar from the way his gut writhed with excitement the morning of his coronation. The knots were born out of a sensation wholly different than excitement. True, he loved his sister. Setshepsut meant the world to him, but a husband was to love his wife so differently than a brother was to love his sister. Their marriage was a new obstacle Ahkmenrah was unsure he would ever be able to maneuver the way he was expected to.
The entire city celebrated when the pharaoh had his queen. People lined every alley and square to catch a glimpse of the royal couple as they rode through the streets of Waset on parade in a chariot pulled by white stallions. It was an echo of the journey he made after being named king; a chance for the commoners to see who it was that ruled them. Ahk did find joy in that venture around the city, forgetting for a moment why it was he was out of the palace walls.
He held his sister’s (wife’s) hand as they rode, taking in the sites--never letting the touching go further than a hug or kiss to the other’s cheek. Setshepsut marveled at the city as they snaked through and down different roads that would eventually loop back toward the palace. Her wonder made Ahk smile, and he took a moment to remind himself he was lucky it was her he was tied to forever and not a stranger. Set would always be special to him.
The wedding feast that followed was only slightly less grand than the one that celebrated the pharaoh’s coronation. The music was loud and the banter louder. The food and drink flowed freer and more abundant than the waters of the Nile. Everything right down to the placement of the oil lamps evoked an aesthetic that served to remind all in attendance how truly great their king, queen, and Egypt was.
Ahkmenrah held a smile on his lips as he sat next to his queen, doing his best to put on a good face for all who came to celebrate his union to Setshepsut. Every hour or so he would catch himself frowning as his thoughts wandered into obscurity before throwing an upward curl to his features once more. It was strange not being able to find conversation with Set--the two of them were often inseparable. And the longer he sat watching the jovial guests twirling about, the more Ahk missed the camaraderie he and Setshepsut used to have.  
“Are you ready to go?” Ahkmenrah asked suddenly, tired of watching people enjoy something he couldn’t.
Setshepsut blinked his direction, eyes blown wide with a hint of fear. She didn’t say a word, but she stood, and Ahk stood too. The pharaoh took a moment to thank his guests and encouraged them to carry on with their celebrations. When he turned back to his sister, she was tense and staring off into the distance.
“Set.” He offered his hand to her as he spoke gently.
She continued to stare. 
“Set?” Ahk murmured just as gently but louder to break through her sturdy resolve.
Her dark eyes turned to him, almost pleading, before falling to his hand. She stared at it for a long time, and Ahk waited patiently.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised.
Hesitantly, she reached for his hand but didn’t look at him. Neither of them said a word as they walked through the nearly empty halls to the pharaoh’s chambers. Even after the doors were shut and they were truly alone they remained quiet. Ahkmenrah, however, did let himself relax somewhat, no longer under the gaze of so many watchful eyes. And for a moment he forgot what was expected of him--what was expected of them.
He sighed a breath of relief and routinely began to remove the overabundance of ornamentation that made up his word robe: cape, collar, and crown until he wore only his golden shendyt and belt. Ahk sighed again, lips upturned slightly at the corners feeling free without the heavy garments and went to pour himself a drink. He indulged in a long swig, relishing in the way his mind began to settle until the clank of jewelry hitting the ground jolted him back to reality.
Setshepsut stood at his bedside, slowly removing her own barbels with the expression of a frightened, nervous child. The pharaoh watched idly for a moment, not thinking much of it as he drank until she began to slide out of her gown--the look on her face intense enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“No,” Ahkmenrah choked out, quickly putting his drink down and crossing the room to stop her.
The sudden movement startled her, causing her to jump, and she threw him a look of confusion.
“No,” Ahk said softer, taking both of her hands in his.
“But we--” 
“I know.” He held her gaze until some of that fear ebbed and led her out onto the balcony.
“I can do this…” Set told him, but the crack in her voice gave her away.
Ahkmenrah smiled softly and shook his head. He wasn’t going to let his little sister make sacrifices as he had.
“Is this what you want?” he asked. “Please answer truthfully.”
The importance of duty had been a lesson drilled into his head all his life, surely Set had been taught the same. He didn’t want those teachings answering for her. If she truly wanted to be his bride then, Ahk supposed, he was going to have to learn how to love her differently…
“Do you?” she held his gaze as she spoke, searching his expression for an answer.
“No,” Ahk told her without hesitation. “I love you, Set. But I’m not sure I can ever be a husband to you.”
Instantaneously, the apprehension that darkened Setshepsut’s face drifted away, and she smiled as she embraced him tightly.
“I feel the same!” she rejoiced, her words a little muffled with her face pressed against him. “When you wanted to leave the party, I thought that you wanted to…” her eyes drifted to the bed inside the pharaoh’s chamber.
Ahkmenrah chuckled somewhat and kissed the top of her head as she pulled away. “No, I was tired of everyone watching us.”
“What are we going to do?” Set asked.
“Well,” Ahkmenrah thought a moment as he pulled her to sit beside him with their backs against the stone railing of the balcony.
“You will go about your days as queen, and I will go about mine as king. No one has to know what we do in here. Even if all we do is sit and watch the stars for the rest of our lives or play Senet until the sun comes up--I will be happy.”
Setshepsut pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiled at her brother.
“I’ll be happy with that, too.”
The king and queen remained on the balcony under the stars, spending hours talking and laughing like they used to, and when Setshepsut finally left to return to her own chambers, the dark of the sky was mixing with the pastel hues of morning. Ahk lingered, watching the helix of colors overhead with a content smile on his face and warmth in his heart knowing without a doubt that he would never lose the bond he had with his little sister.  
Next Chapter-> Chapter Five: Bound to You
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keytomythoughts · 4 years ago
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Eleutheromania | Chapter 06
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Chapter Index
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Lucas
Settling back into my bunk, I cross my arms underneath my head, closing my eyes briefly for sleep to take me over. Today’s training was intensive, all of my muscles and limbs sore from over-exerting itself. The moon is bright tonight, though it’s well past midnight—almost three in the morning. Yet, I’m restless. My mind isn’t just tired. 
Because every time my eyelids shut, I picture her. 
It’s almost like a routine, every night. Even after long and tiring days, seeing her conjure right in front of my eyes fills my body with this profound energy, this light that carries me through my darkest days. Jaeun, my heart. My soul, my love. The woman who I’ve grown to love with this compelling passion. The feeling never fleets from my heart, because I know how much she’s going through already. And I know that as long as she’s a part of my life, I will always come back to her. As will she to me.
My lips twitch into a small smile. I picture her, standing in her angelic glory. A true goddess, no doubt. How long has it been since I’ve last seen her? Last been with her? 
I frown. Almost four years now. And yet, she has been patient all this time. Her eyes, those beautiful flecks of an emerald—like a glowing, gorgeous gem—shimmering with pure delight whenever she sees me through her screen. The darkened rays of the sun spooling down her shoulders like a waterfall of gold mixed with rich Earth. The way her locks would curl around her slender fingers when she was anxious. Her scent, so captivating and sweet, similar to lavender and peaches. The smell drunkening my senses with every closing proximity. Silky-smooth skin leaving traces of electricity wherever she touches me, yet her touch is always gentle and pure. Her laugh, a sound so rich and lively that it would put angels to shame for being nothing compared to her.
Everything. God, just everything about her.  
Seeing her like this gives me strength and courage, the hope that one day I’ll leave this wretched place and take her far away where we can live the way we want to. No social system. No Sabres. No monarch. And no restrictions.
Just me and Jaeun, gazing out at the many sunsets until the warm glow has sunken to allow the night sky to take its place. For the long walks we’d take through parks and beaches, hands intertwined. Running through fields and lying down next to each other, one of us eventually cuddled up in the other's embrace. Desiring nothing more than to simply be with one another.
I picture this reality almost religiously, praying that soon I would be able to make it a reality for us both. To feel pleasure and peace, love and despair, longing and remorse, nostalgia and reminisce. As long as it’s us two against the world, I wouldn’t give a damn what came in our way to stop us.
I would fight it all, for her. So that she would stay by my side.
The slumber nearly pulls me in until I feel my pocket vibrating. My eyes open right away, knowing the only person who would be calling me at this time.
When I hold my phone to my face, I see that it’s indeed a call. 
From Jaeun.
I glance around quickly to make sure no one else is in here before answering it. My heart catches in my throat, fearing something must’ve happened to her for her to be still up and calling this late. I wait anxiously as our videos load on either side of the screens. Fixing my position, I wait as her video focuses on her face. I smile. She’s curled up on my side of the bed again, her body clad in one of my favorite hoodies. Looking at her from across the screen, I can’t help the grin that comes to my face, seeing her angelic face after a while. 
But, today, her radiance is a little dim. It isn’t completely snuffed out, just dull. The expression on her face…I don’t know. It didn’t rub me the right way.
“Jaeun, baby, is everything okay? It’s not like you to be up this late.”
Her eyes shift around nervously, and I know that something’s visibly wrong. I wish I could, at this moment, reach out and hold her in my arms. To comfort her in any way that I can.
I hear her breathe heavily. 
“I’m fine, babe. It’s just…I wanted to see you.”
There’s no way I can bypass the way her voice wavers. Never has she been like this, as if she’s scared, hesitant. 
Jaeun…
“Babe, what’s the matter?” I cut right to the chase, knowing full well the scope of my girlfriend and her emotions all too well. Whether it be face-to-face or through a medium, I can always decipher her, read her expressions. But this time, it feels very unsettling.
I shift so I can get a better view of her. She still doesn’t respond, but I can tell she’s taking a little too long to answer, as if she can’t find the right words to say. 
I frown. What’s wrong, my love?
“L-Lucas..” 
The way my name leaves her mouth confirms my suspicion that something definitely has happened, and she’s troubled by whatever it is. How desperately I want to be there next to her right now, she has no idea. I see her lips tremble, the way she casually tries to bring up her sleeve to obscure her face from my vision. My heart races, the desire to protect her growing even stronger.
“Jaeun, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, baby. Please. I’m right here,” I coax her gently, begging her to reveal why she’s in such discomfort. 
That’s when I see her tears. One by one, little drops of water spilling from her beautiful pearl-green eyes. Those pretty, shining orbs are now clouded with sorrow. My heart wrenches painfully in my chest as my eyes widen, nervously darting around her face. 
“Are you—Jaeun are you crying??”
She doesn’t respond, but the tears continue to streak down her soft cheeks, her shoulders shaking in the process. 
“Oh god, baby, why are you crying? Did something happen? Are you hurt?” My fingers grasp the device tightly in my hand, the other going to pull the strands of my hair. The uncertainty is making my heart race at an abnormal speed, the adrenaline rushing throughout my body as my muscles tighten. 
She shakes her head in denial, but the tears don’t stop. Her loud sobs echo through the call, and I find my own heart sinking. Painfully wrenching in my chest as I watch her. Uselessly watching, hating myself for not being able to do anything for her right now. Despising the fact that I can’t comfort her when she’s at her most and needs me the most. My Jaeun, my beautiful girlfriend, the complete love of my life. 
What caused you so much pain to make you cry this much? 
“Breathe, love. Please, just try to calm down.”
Lucas, you idiot. Is that what you say? You’re hopeless.
I release a deep sigh, fingers still tugging at my roots to the point that it hurts my scalp. I didn’t care, though. I just need to know why Jaeun is the way she is right now. “Shit, why am I not there with you when I can be at your side and wipe your tears away?”
Her sobs quiet, but the tears still shine on her cheeks, the new wave replacing the old trail. She parts her lips, and I try to inch closer to the phone. As if by doing this will make me reach her physically.
“L-Lucas…” She breathes through her tears, her voice slightly hoarse from the result of her crying so hard.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue. She sniffles.
“Y-You know that I love you, right?”
My heart plummets into my stomach. Seeing her so broken, so hurt…and the only woman I will ever love no matter how many lifetimes I live is asking me if she knows that my heart only beats for her, that everything I do is so that I can be with her forever.
“Of course, baby. And I love you even more,” I pause, the air collecting in my lungs, struggling to say all that I can to her to make her never doubt that notion. The notion that I can never live without her. That I long for her. That I wish to kiss her pain away, to enclose her in my arms, feeling her skin radiate the heat that I’ve grown to crave as each day passes without her near me. To make her feel love, the way she deserves it. Every inch of my being for her, and only her.  
I swallow, my own tears threatening to make their appearance. “God, I miss you so much. Every day, I just want to come home. To be with you. Not a minute goes by where I’m not thinking of you, Jaeun.”
Jaeun remains silent again, but her expression softens, the initial discomfort gone, but there’s something else hidden in her eyes. The hesitation. Her lips part, then close. When they open again, she whispers something almost inaudible.
“I-I…I'm pregnant.”
I freeze. My eyes widen as I feel all the muscles in my body go stiff.
Did I hear her right?
I gulp. “W-What did you say, love?” My voice sounds shaky, but it’s purely an accident. The sudden delivery of this news leaves me speechless. Pure shock. My mind runs through a series of thoughts, not one making complete, concrete sense. 
Her voice sounds a little stronger now, resolve replacing the remorse. 
“I’m pregnant, Lucas.”
Fearing someone may have overheard her, even though I made sure that I was completely alone, I immediately slide off my bunk and go outside. The outside air is definitely cooler than in the barracks, but at least out here, there’s a less chance of someone hearing this conversation. Positioning myself near a lamp post, I let the dim light bathe me in its glow, luminating the device in my hand.
I sigh, my hand resting on top of my head. Then it falls to the side of my face.
“Are you serious?”
She nods shyly. “I took the test earlier today. It came out positive.”
I purse my lips. My eyes travel around my surroundings. Anywhere away from the camera. The barrage of emotions I’m feeling right now is very hard to distinguish, so I stay silent, letting my thoughts slowly process. 
Oh my god. Oh my god.
She’s pregnant. 
Jaeun’s pregnant. 
I get so caught up in my thoughts, that one thought shining through the rest that I barely hear her voice calling out for me. 
“Lucas? Baby, say something,” she pleads. I make out the slight shakiness in her voice, realizing if I didn’t respond, she would feel doubt and guilt. This time, her tears will be because I didn’t brush away the misconceptions when that’s what I needed to do. That’s the last thing I would ever want to make her feel. Her tears, for as long as I live, will never be because of me. Not if I can do anything about it. And right now, I know what I have to do.
My chest heaves, the tears springing free and travelling down my face. I make no attempt to wipe them away. 
I breathe out an airy laugh, a small smile forming on my face.
“I’m going to be a father..”
I turn back to her as more tears pool in my eyes, each dripping slowly. She gasps, but the tears she sheds are not out of pain or sadness. No, they’re from happiness. Her laughter fills my ears, and I can’t help laughing along with her, the sound resonating beautifully. Our laughs and tears mixing as one, our hearts unravelling all that had been entrapped.
“Jaeun, you’re carrying my child,” I manage to say. “Our child!” My chest inflates, but my smile still remains, as does hers. “You have no idea how desperately I want to go running to you, right now. Baby, it’s taking every ounce in my being to control myself.”
She laughs, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.
I grin, the love shining from just my expression alone. All of it directed to her, the only person in my life who I will ever look at the way I do.
“So,” she sniffles once more, “you’re not mad?”
The answer comes out before I have time to think about it, but it comes directly from my heart. “Baby, no, god no. Why would you ever think that? I would never.” 
I run my thumb across the screen, wishing I could touch her. The ache I feel from being away from her for too long filling my senses once again. 
My voice lowers just with that overwhelming sensation. “I love you with all my heart. And nothing will ever change that, Jaeun. Nothing.”
Either I say it once or a million times over until I sound like a broken record, my heart will always accept this as the one solid truth in my life. No matter what, this love I have for Jaeun is sound. 
The sound of her laughter rings in my ears again. “I love you so much, babe. I miss you. God, I really do.” 
Judging by the way her voice lowered at the end, I had a strong feeling she would burst into tears again. And while she always appears beautiful to me no matter how she looked, I didn’t like to see her cry. Not with me around. 
She tilts her head upwards, and I’m unable to see her face anymore. If I were there, I would gently, slowly, use my fingers to hook her by her chin and bring her face to my level, to make sure she’s looking straight into my eyes. To close the gap between us in a sweet, passionate kiss. Lips syncing to match the rhythmic beats of our elated hearts, our hands pulling each other closer to convey the love mere words can’t do justice for.
“Jaeun, babe, look at me.”
A couple seconds pass before she brings her head back down. I never get tired of looking at her, never. It always amazes me how lucky I am to have someone like her walk into my life and fill each and every corner with her light. Her smile, the cute way her nose crinkles when she laughs. Her beauty, dazzling. Those emeralds that remind me why I continue to fight so hard. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Our hearts have sealed this from when we were both teens to our now adult lives.
My heart skips a beat, the excitement bubbling up all over again.
“I promise,” I start, my voice thick, “I’ll come back home soon. I swear, I’ll do whatever I can.” I gaze into her eyes once more, the flames of desire burning from the tips of my fingers to the organ beating wildly in my chest. The resolve growing hard in my mind that it’s preventing me from thinking straight. These feelings, the ones I’ve kept in check for so long come pouring out. And I don’t stop them. I want her to see just how crazy she makes me feel.
I lick my lips, realizing they were dry. “God, I…I just want to kiss you so badly right now, jagi. I want to feel you again.”
Despite the poor lighting, I take note of her cheeks growing pink. Not going to lie, it’s cute to see her embarrassed. Blushing, because of me. 
God, how badly I want to feel her skin against my own. It’s driving me wild.
“I guess that will give you more of a reason to come, right? And besides,” she shifts, her hand now pressed to her stomach, “it’s not just me you’ll be coming home to.”
I can’t help but smile, knowing that our baby is growing in her as we speak. It’s strange, but there’s this feeling of joy, of pride, that I’m fathering this child. That I was able to put a part of me in Jaeun, my love blossoming a new creation within her.
My smile changes to a smirk as my mind divulges into my more darker and sinful desires. Despite the chill outside, I find my body growing hotter, overcome with this burning lust.
“You better be ready. I won’t go easy, love.”
Teasing, tempting. It’s one of the ways I enjoy drawing her in, luring her like a prey to its predator. And her eyes, wide with this somewhat misty look, convey the same feeling as mine.
Insatiable thirst.
“Neither will I, babe.”
God, how can she be so freaking sexy and goddamn cute at the same time?
Jaeun giggles, not realizing I half-muttered what I was thinking. A deep chuckle escapes my throat, fighting back the urge to not think any more sinful thoughts. 
Looking at the glint in Jaeun’s misty-green eyes, I realize the same effect she has on me, I have the same on her. Imagining her body writhing under me, the waves of pleasure I would deliver to her. The endless time we spend in each other’s grasp. I miss it. I want it. All of it, even if it is for just a moment. I long to be with her again more than anything. A moment of showing her how much I love her, care for her, miss her, desire her…the feelings only she’s capable of making me feel. 
All, only for her. 
I snicker, trying to divert my intense passion onto her restless state. “I’ve fired you up, haven’t I?”
Her cheeks burn brighter, like the color of strawberries. “Shut up, Lucas!”
I laugh, her reaction so pure and genuine.
Oh baby, you have no idea what I’m feeling right now, even if you can’t see it. It’s all because of you, making me feel so vulnerable.
These moments, times like these, they’re ones I wish to cherish with her face-to-face. Calling like this doesn’t do our love justice. Eventually, our love will grow, transgressing from the two of us to our unborn child.
We’ll be a family. 
I drift off thinking about our future. Even though I know how risky this is, our lives now both at a higher stake if someone were to have us figured out, I picture it all. The three of us together, loving and happy. Failing to realize, again, that I’m blurting my questions out loud.
“Do you think it’s a boy? Or a girl?” My heart skips a beat, not giving a chance for Jaeun to answer before my momentum picks up its giddiness. “What if they’re twins??”
She giggles as she shakes her head. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, babe.”
I pout, a grunt of disapproval escaping from deep in my throat.
“No fairrr,” I purposely drag out the last word, whining to get my point across.
All she does is smile, the whites of her teeth flashing their way through my chest and into my heart that beat erratically. Jaeun then rubs her eyes, and I can tell she’s exhausted. And for the following months after, she’ll have to be careful not to exert herself too much. For her and the baby.
“Jagi, get some rest, okay? I’ll talk to you as soon as I can, I promise,” I say, softly.
She shakes her head. “But I’m not tired.”
My heart softens, seeing her struggle to stay awake because we can’t guarantee when a conversation like this can happen often, if ever again for some time.
“You can’t lie to me, baby,” my voice still soft and whisper-like.
Jaeun shakes her head again. “I can’t sleep, not without you.”
Oh, Jaeun. 
A ghost of a smile forms on my lips, my chest heaving out of this pure ecstasy of love, wishing to reach out and brush the dark blonde strands away from her face. Letting my fingers trace over her delicate features one by one. Planting soft kisses. 
I’m sorry, I know how hard this must be for you. Thank you for being patient with me. I’m forever in your debt, my love.
I lower my voice, this time to purposely lure her into the sleep she desperately needs. “Just think I’m right there, laying down next to you. My arms wrapped tightly around you. My fingers stroking your hair, the soft kisses I would leave on your skin.”
Each scenario, I imagine myself with her there as well. I feel a dull pang in my chest, desiring so much but accomplishing none.
Soon, I think wearily. I’ll be with you soon, Jaeun.
Her eyes slowly flutter closed, surprised how she’s able to continue holding the phone in her hand. I watch as her breathing becomes rhythmic, her body finally giving in to slumber. Watching her is pure bliss. It reminds me of the countless mornings we woke up together, sometimes catching her still sleeping. She always looked peaceful, so beautiful. 
I hear her sigh, words leaving her lips in a hushed whisper. But I catch every single one. 
“I love you, Lucas..”
I chuckle, heart swelling no matter how many times she has said the same phrase. “Not as much as I love you, Jaeun. Good night, my love. I’ll visit you in your dreams, just wait for me soon.”  
With that, I take one good look at her before I end the call and slip the device back into my pocket. I slowly make my way towards the barracks, seeing as there’s not much time left before sunrise. Hard to believe we were talking for over an hour. 
I can’t believe I’m becoming a father.
I look down to the gravel beneath me, aimlessly kicking at the loose stones. Yet, I smile. A small one, but it’s there. The air isn’t as chilly now, and I find the outside atmosphere slightly comforting, knowing now that both Jaeun and the soon-to-be born child will be waiting for me. 
I stop in my tracks just before the door to my barracks. I glance upwards, the few stars still present twinkling in the early morning haze. 
Jaeun…just hold on. Just a little longer. I’ll be home soon.
I promise.
Chapter 05 | Chapter 06 | Chapter 07 
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vivianrvergiou · 5 years ago
Text
Poetry For The Poisoned Arcana
Prologue
Hello everyone and welcome to one of my stories! ^^ These particular one-shots were inspired by the amazing headcannons by @softarcana  Antagonist Main 3, where I added my own dark touch to them. Here on Tumblr you will find only the Prologue, the rest you will find in my Archive of Our Own page (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225261/chapters/61143841 ) since -and I do want to warn you- they are dark, explicit and very violent. Read the tags very carefully and do not read if you are a minor !please! Other than that, I hope you enjoy!
Prologue warnings: Slaves, slave trade, assassination plot
‘A wolf is a wolf.
Even in a cage;
Even dressed in silk’
‘True evil is above all things seductive;
when the devil knocks at your door
  he doesn't have cloven hooves - he's beautiful..’
John Clare
Everything smelled of sickness and death.
    High above the streets, the opalesque buildings once radiated with beauty, surrounded by the bluest sky and the whitest of clouds, enclosed by the vibrant houses and the merry voices of people filling the refreshing sea air mingling with the mouth-watering aromas of bread being made or spices freshly ground into pulp. The beloved Count Lucio truly deserved all the love he was getting from his people, a monarch that cared for his city and did everything in his power for his people to be united and his lands prosperous. Everything thrived with riches and happiness, all people rejoicing and drinking to his health and the prosperity of the city to continue for eons and eons to come, blessed by the gods and all the heavenly powers. Vesuvia was the pride and joy of all the lands, envied but loved by many, a gem among others that could inspire hope to the darkest of hearts.
  That was back then.
Back when life was a joy to live.
   Now, almost nine years later, the Count was long dead, murdered in his own bed, and the tall buildings were surrounded by crimson painted clouds that completely eradicated the rich sunlight and made day seem as dark as night; raising your head to look at the Grand Palace, you couldn’t help but feel death lingering in the air of the almost demolished and bereft from any life streets. The Plague had wiped the population out almost completely, infecting the old and the young and reaping lives here and there with no remorse to any, so much that the corpses littered the streets and the canals, while the few and lone survivors that were lucky -or unlucky- to survive it were left to beg for scraps of food or fight for their lives in the Colosseum, mere ghosts of their former selves. A city once clad in unfathomable riches and happiness, had now plunged in darkness and death leaving behind nothing but shadows desperately clinging on the streets.
 You couldn’t help it; as you watched the Palace with keen eyes, you felt the wave of hate long suppressed emerge from the depths of your chest, wild and poisonous and determined to set things right once and for all. There was only one thing to do and one alone; for nine years you have been training and scheming and preparing for this moment alone. And this was your chance; all or nothing.
   Tightening your grip around your cloak, your chains rattle and groan as the slave in front of you is slapped across the face by the less empathetic slavers. The man stumbles weakly and almost falls on the ground yet catches himself at the last minute. He is sickly and weak, only a ghost of his former self as all of you are; once there was much food to go around, luxuries people could only dream about but now hunger gripped everyone and the only thing left was to be sold in one of the rich houses.
   A part that the slavers covered; when the townsfolk were not enough anymore, they marched onto the countryside and snatched whoever was in sight. Men and women and children alike all were shackled and taken to the Colosseum to either survive and be sold or be killed off like animals to the slaughter.
 Thus, this is where you are currently heading and stooping your head lower, you avert your eyes to the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid triggering the slavers wrath as they whip you forward in a tight but neat row. Some of the slaves can barely stand on their own feet, others are already dying, and others are expected to win a nice sum from the Royals. Whoever can’t walk or is too sick, is promptly killed off and tossed to the side, empty carcasses to litter the floors. Hunger is gripping you all and the sweet taste of water is something you’ve already forgotten. Instead, your feet and hands are blistered by the heavy chains and your backs are so savagely whipped, some still have pieces of flesh hanging off; you were one of the lucky ones and despite the deep wounds, there was no infections or hanging flesh. It was but a small price to pay if it meant fulfilling your ultimate goal.
 ‘Get moving! They’re already expecting us!’ one of the slave owners said and whipped the whip loudly in the air, making a few children in the line cry out in fear.
 ‘MOVE IT!’
  Truly, the more you walked down the street the more Royal Guards you started to see, dressed in their shiny coal black armours, swords as sharp as pain itself sheathed next to their waists; eyes were following you by now and the feeling was like shadows caressing your skin in the dark of the night. You couldn’t see their faces, but the feeling was unmistakable. A few beggars were standing behind them, too curious to remain hidden, too afraid to wander any further; their eyes shone in the darkness and whispers were carried along by the wind, reaching your ears.
 What a shame.
 How sad for a city that grand to fall so low.
  Alas, rounding a corner, you came forth to the one building that its mere sight was enough to strike fear even to the most fearless hearts: the Colosseum.
 Standing tall and towering over most other buildings, it was as haunting as it was grand right before you. White stone reached to almost cover the sky and the more you came close to it, the more you could actually taste the blood hanging in the air; some spoke that it was home to monsters that lurked in the dungeons, others said the ghosts of the people slaughtered inside still roamed the place at nights. Whatever the lore was, you cannot help the shiver travelling down your spine as you all pass under its gates, feet coming in contact with soft sand and ears picking up on the faraway sounds of battle and the crowd cheering. Everything was dark and the only light you could see came from the other side of the long corridor you were in.
 With hushed yells, the slavers stopped you all, gathering you in a close corner, and the head of them ventured inside the nearby door as they warned you not to make a peep. Cloaked by the shadows, your eyes are quick to adjust to the darkness and you let them roam all around you; lines of weapons littered the walls, tossed here and there or carefully settled on the cold stone, ready to be picked up at any given time. It would be so easy for a daring soul to just grab one and make a run for it, alas, everybody knew better than to risk having all the gladiators after them.
‘Just a bit more…. Just a bit longer….’
 Whispering to yourself the only words of encouragement you could muster, it’s a desperate plea for your heart to lie still. It is strange really; you’ve been dreaming about this your whole life, from the moment everything went to complete and utter shit and actually trained for it, prepared for every possible scenario, yet now that you are here you seem utterly unable to calm down. Sweaty hands, restless feet, heart ready to jump out of your chest and a brain that is constantly rehearsing all the info you have, all the possible outcomes you can get.
 Still, something feels like it’s not ready yet. That you need more time.
Alas, the time was now.
Now, as the leader of the slavers comes back and orders them to take you into the arena. Now, that scared whispers erupt all around you, followed by curses, harsh shoves and more savage whipping. Now, that your shoulders roll out and your head stands high with pride as you follow the slave line and enter the huge arena momentarily blinded by the artificial light.
 Breath is caught in your lungs and time seems to slow down; yet you are still moving, and it feels like there’s someone else moving your body like a true puppet to their schemes. Taking you further towards the centre of the blood covered arena, where bodies have fallen and the watchful crowd is looking expectantly, like predators watching their potential prey. And here you are, served for them on a plate of iron clad chains, ready to get gobbled up. Pulled into a neat line, you turn to face the huge podium towering above all other seats and a few slaves cry out and fall on their knees.
 The slavers urge you all to fall down in respect, to kneel and give yourselves up willingly, but you are not occupied with them anymore.
 Now, your panic has shimmered down, and your lips aren’t quivering anymore, you can literally stand on your own two feet without worrying they might give out as your eyes can only focus on the four shadowy figures standing inside the podium, clad in shadows and true abyssal darkness. Yet you know they are all watching.
 Asra Alnazar, the Great Magician, Destroyer and King of the Arcana Realms, rumoured to snatch the souls away from anyone he lies his eyes upon.
 Julian Devorak, the Doctor of Death, the murderer and wanted criminal; the doctor behind it all, whose hand was no stranger to death.
  Nadia Satrinava, the Tyrant Countess, the one who unleashed hell upon earth itself and brought nations to their knees; none can survive her they say, and her presence in battle is enough to instil fear to the Gods themselves.
  Muriel, the Scourge of the South, prime gladiator and enforcer of the Law brought by the Countess. His hand had ended thousands of lives, guilty and innocent alike.
 Alas, you only cared for one of them.
 Unbeknownst to them, you arrived in Vesuvia to kill them.
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