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shiorihyugawrites · 24 days ago

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Diamond Of The First Water

In the aftermath of war, Paradis finds itself in need of powerful alliances. When Emperor Armand of Valoria offers his military aid in exchange for the hand of his daughter, Princess Solina, in marriage, Captain Levi Ackerman is thrust into an engagement that begins as a political strategy but soon becomes something much deeper.

Princess Solina, sheltered from the world and unaware of the realities of love and war, finds herself drawn to Levi—the man known as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. As they navigate royal customs, public expectations, and the growing threat of Marley, the bond between them deepens into a genuine connection.

But neither Solina nor Levi are prepared for the challenges of a political marriage, the weight of intimacy, and the secrets that lie beneath the surface. As Solina enters a new life with Levi, her naivety is tested, and Levi faces a battle unlike any he’s fought before—the fight to protect his heart.

Can their love flourish in the midst of war, duty, and danger? Or will the forces conspiring against them tear them apart before they can find peace? (Levi x OC)

Chapter Forty Four (Part One)

A/N: Just a heads up, this is a long chapter (20k+ words). And this chapter has TWO parts (see link at the bottom)

...

Flashback: A Few Days After Solina and Levi’s Wedding…

The carriage ride had been unbearably long. Dimaria sat rigidly, arms crossed over her chest, her finely tailored dress wrinkled from hours of restless shifting. The moment she set foot in this wretched countryside, she knew—no, she felt—it deep in her bones. This was all Solina’s fault.

If it weren’t for her perfect, precious, beloved Diamond of Valoria sister, she wouldn’t be here, exiled from the Imperial Palace, ripped away from the life she had spent years cultivating. Instead, she was being carted off to a dusty, isolated ranch in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by “filthy” animals and backwater nobility.

As the carriage jostled over the uneven dirt path, Dimaria let out a frustrated sigh, staring out the window with disdain. Rolling hills stretched endlessly in every direction, the fields dotted with galloping horses and vast stretches of open land. To some, it might have been beautiful. To her, it was a nightmare.

She clenched her fists, nails biting into the fabric of her gloves. Solina had ruined everything. Their father’s favoritism had always been painfully obvious, but this was the final blow. He had chosen Solina over her, again. He had sent her away while Solina basked in the glow of his approval, enjoying her perfect little honeymoon, married to the so-called strongest soldier of Paradis.

The very thought of it made Dimaria’s blood boil.

The carriage slowed, the horses whinnying as the driver pulled the reins. The moment they came to a stop, a woman stepped out onto the front steps of the large but unassuming estate.

Princess Alice.

The Emperor’s younger sister stood with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the carriage as if already anticipating trouble. She was dressed in simple riding gear, her long silver hair tied back in a braid. Even from a distance, Dimaria could tell her aunt had spent the morning working—her gloves still had flecks of dirt on them, and the faint scent of hay clung to her clothes.

Dimaria wrinkled her nose in disgust.

This was the woman she was expected to stay with?

The footman opened the carriage door, but Dimaria made no move to exit immediately. Instead, she took her time, adjusting her gloves, smoothing out her dress, and lifting her chin in an attempt to cling to whatever dignity she had left. She was still a princess, no matter how much her father wanted to discard her.

With deliberate grace, she stepped out of the carriage, ignoring the stable hands and staff who were watching her arrival with thinly veiled curiosity.

Princess Alice took one long look at her and sighed.

“Well, you’re finally here.”

Dimaria stiffened at the casual greeting. “I was under the impression I wasn’t given a choice,” she replied coldly.

Alice raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Neither was I.”

Dimaria’s lips pressed into a thin line. She already hated it here.

Alice gestured toward the estate. “Come inside. I’m sure you’re eager to settle in.”

Dimaria didn’t move. Her sharp brown eyes flicked around the property in distaste. The estate itself was large, but it was nowhere near as grand as the Imperial Palace. The walls were a faded ivory, and the windows weren’t adorned with intricate gold detailing or stained glass. It was... simple.

And then there were the horses.

They were everywhere. Galloping in the pastures, being led by stable hands, peering over the fences with intelligent eyes. The scent of them filled the air—earthy and unmistakably animalistic. Dimaria barely resisted the urge to recoil.

“I don’t belong here,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “I don’t know what Father was thinking, sending me to live among—” she gestured vaguely at the horses “—this.”

Alice’s expression didn’t change, but Dimaria could see the flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I was thinking the same thing when I heard you were coming.”

Dimaria’s jaw clenched.

Alice turned and started walking toward the house without waiting for Dimaria to follow.

“You can stand there and sulk if you want,” Alice called over her shoulder. “Or you can come inside and act like someone who still has a future.”

Dimaria bristled but begrudgingly followed. She would not let this woman, her father, or anyone else think that she was broken. She would endure this exile. And she would find a way to get back everything she lost.

As she stepped into the estate, the scent of polished wood and fresh bread greeted her. The interior was nothing like the lavish decor of the palace, but it was... warm. Lived-in. It made her sick.

A maid led her to her room, a spacious chamber with large windows overlooking the fields. It was larger than she expected but still nothing compared to her royal chambers back home. Her luggage had already been placed neatly in the wardrobe, but the absence of luxury was glaring.

Dimaria sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings, her anger simmering beneath the surface.

She refused to let this be her fate.

She refused to let Solina win.

She would find a way back.

And when she did, she would make sure Solina regretted ever crossing her.

…

The estate’s halls were dimly lit by lanterns as the evening settled over the countryside. Dimaria had spent the remainder of her afternoon in her chambers, seething at the injustice of her situation. She had unpacked only what was necessary, unwilling to truly settle into this backwater exile. Every time she glanced out the window and saw the vast fields of horses and stable hands going about their work, her stomach churned.

This was not her life.

She was meant to be in the Imperial Palace, dining with nobles, dressed in silks and adorned with jewels. Not here. Not in the middle of nowhere.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts. Before she could even respond, a maid poked her head inside, bowing slightly.

“Your Highness, Princess Alice requests your presence for dinner.”

Dimaria sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. She had no desire to eat in the company of a woman who clearly lacked any respect for propriety. But she also knew refusing outright might make things more difficult for her in the long run. She would endure the evening, but she wouldn’t enjoy it.

With practiced grace, she rose from the bed and made her way to the wardrobe. She selected a modest but elegant gown—pale yellow silk with subtle embroidery, a piece from the Lily House collection. Even if she was in exile, she would not let her standards slip.

Satisfied with her appearance, she allowed the maid to lead her down the hallway toward the dining room. The closer they got, the more laughter she heard.

Laughter.

Her brows furrowed. What kind of dinner was this?

When the maid pushed open the doors, Dimaria nearly gasped in horror.

The dining table was filled with people—too many people. And not nobles or high-ranking officials, but servants. Staff. Stable hands. Workers she had seen tending to the horses earlier in the day.

And at the head of the table, completely at ease, was Princess Alice, a goblet of wine in one hand, laughing as she conversed with the others.

Dimaria felt her stomach twist in revulsion.

This was not a royal dinner.

This was a commoner’s gathering.

She stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. Alice noticed her almost immediately, her sharp silver eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Ah, there you are, Dimaria. Come, take a seat.”

Dimaria did not move. Her eyes darted around the table, taking in the sight of servants laughing, eating, drinking—acting as if they belonged there.

“I—” Her voice caught in her throat. “What is this?”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Dinner.”

Dimaria’s lip curled in disgust. “With servants?”

The room fell into a hush. The warm, lively atmosphere dimmed slightly, the workers exchanging glances but saying nothing.

Alice, however, remained unfazed.

“Yes,” she said simply, taking another sip of her wine. “They work just as hard as any noble in Valoria. Why shouldn’t they eat with me?”

Dimaria was appalled. She had known her aunt was eccentric, that she had distanced herself from the politics of the palace. But this? This was disgraceful.

She turned to leave, her head held high. “I refuse to dine like a peasant.”

Alice sighed, setting her goblet down. “Suit yourself.”

Dimaria didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the dining hall, her blood boiling.

As she walked back to her room, the laughter from the dining hall resumed, as if her presence had never mattered at all.

And that infuriated her even more.

…

Later on, the soft knock on Dimaria’s door was met with silence. She sat in front of her vanity, brushing her golden hair with stiff, irritated strokes, her reflection staring back at her with a tight expression. She was still fuming from the humiliation she had endured downstairs. The sight of her aunt—her father’s own sister—dining amongst commoners like they were her equals had left a foul taste in her mouth.

Another knock, more hesitant this time.

Dimaria sighed dramatically, placing the brush down with a sharp clink against the wooden vanity.

“What?” she snapped, not bothering to mask her annoyance.

The door creaked open slightly, and a young servant girl peeked her head inside, her eyes wide and uncertain. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with mousy brown hair tied into a low braid and a simple servant’s uniform neatly pressed. She carried a tray with a steaming plate of food, the smell wafting into the room.

“I-I’ve brought your dinner, Your Highness,” the girl stammered, stepping carefully into the room.

Dimaria’s jaw clenched. She turned in her seat slowly, eyeing the girl like a predator sizing up prey.

“I didn’t ask for it,” she said coldly.

The girl hesitated, her hands gripping the tray tightly. “P-Princess Alice said you didn’t eat at dinner, so she asked me to bring you something.”

Dimaria stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. The girl flinched, shrinking slightly under the harsh glare being directed at her.

“Did I ask you what my aunt said?” Dimaria hissed, stepping closer. “Do I look like some pathetic wretch who needs to be fed like a stray dog?”

The girl shook her head quickly, eyes darting to the floor. “N-No, Your Highness. I only meant—”

“Then take it away!” Dimaria snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “I refuse to eat anything that came from the same table as those peasants.”

The girl looked completely flustered, her lower lip trembling as she tried to decide what to do. “B-But, Your Highness, Princess Alice said—”

Dimaria lost what little patience she had left.

She reached forward and slapped the tray out of the girl’s hands, sending the plate crashing onto the floor. The food splattered across the wooden panels, pieces of bread and meat rolling under the furniture. The girl let out a startled yelp, jumping back as the metal clattered against the floor.

“Are you deaf?” Dimaria spat. “I said I don’t want it! Do you understand now?”

The servant girl stood frozen, her eyes filling with tears, her hands trembling at her sides. She looked utterly humiliated.

Dimaria didn’t care.

She lifted her chin, her tone biting. “Pick it up and get out of my sight.”

The girl quickly dropped to her knees, sniffling as she scrambled to gather the mess. Her small hands shook as she picked up the pieces of bread, stuffing them onto the ruined plate. She was trying so hard not to cry, but a few strangled sobs escaped.

The sound only annoyed Dimaria further.

“Stop sniveling,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “It’s pathetic.”

The girl wiped at her cheeks, trying to stifle her cries, but she was clearly overwhelmed. She grabbed the tray and stumbled to her feet, her legs wobbly as she made her way to the door.

Just as she reached for the handle, the door was yanked open.

Princess Alice stood there, her brown eyes scanning the scene with cold precision. Her gaze flickered from the teary-eyed servant to the ruined plate in her hands, then to the mess on the floor.

Dimaria froze.

Alice’s jaw tightened. She stepped inside, taking the tray from the girl gently before addressing her with a much softer tone than she had ever used on Dimaria.

“Go,” she said, tilting her head toward the hall. “I’ll handle this.”

The servant girl looked relieved but still humiliated. She quickly bowed before fleeing down the corridor, her quiet sobs fading as she disappeared from sight.

Silence filled the room.

Dimaria felt a twinge of unease as her aunt placed the ruined tray on a nearby table before turning to face her.

Alice didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t look particularly furious. But there was something in her gaze—something sharp, something measured—that made Dimaria feel unsteady.

“You threw a tantrum,” Alice said plainly, as if she were stating a fact rather than reprimanding her.

Dimaria scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I refuse to be treated like some charity case, forced to eat after stable hands and farm workers.”

Alice hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “I see. So you’d rather starve than eat the same food as the people who make sure this estate runs?”

Dimaria sneered. “They are not my equals.”

Alice sighed, rubbing her temple as if she were dealing with a particularly frustrating child. “And what exactly makes you better than them?”

Dimaria’s mouth opened, but Alice lifted a hand, cutting her off before she could speak.

“Your father’s name?” Alice continued, tilting her head. “Your expensive dresses? Your title? Tell me, Dimaria, which of these things have you actually earned?”

Dimaria’s face burned with indignation. “How dare you?”

Alice merely shrugged. “Just stating the obvious.”

Dimaria clenched her fists. “I am a princess.”

Alice smirked. “So? What has that ever done for you?” She gestured toward the room, the isolation, the distance from the lavish halls of the palace. “It certainly didn’t stop your father from sending you here, did it?”

Dimaria’s breath caught in her throat.

Alice took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You’re spoiled, Dimaria. And worse—you’re blind. You cling to your title like it means something, but out here, away from your mother’s manipulations and enabling, it means nothing.”

Dimaria swallowed, her heart pounding in anger and—if she were honest—fear.

Alice tilted her head. “You have a choice, you know. You can spend your time here pouting and throwing food at innocent people. Or…” Her brown eyes gleamed. “You can actually learn something.”

Dimaria scowled. “Learn what? How to shovel horse manure?”

Alice grinned. “It’s a start.”

Dimaria wanted to scream.

She wanted to throw something.

But instead, she turned on her heel and stormed toward her bed, refusing to dignify her aunt with a response.

Alice chuckled under her breath. “Thought so,” she murmured.

Dimaria was seething, her hands clenched so tightly at her sides that her nails dug into her palms. The humiliation from dinner was bad enough, but now this? This was beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

Meanwhile, Princess Alice stood at the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an expression of cool amusement as if this was all some sort of game to her. Dimaria had never wanted to slap someone more in her life.

“I spoke with your father before you arrived,” Alice said, her voice calm, almost casual. “And we both agreed—you should be put to work.”

Dimaria’s stomach plummeted. “Excuse me?” she breathed, her voice a dangerous whisper.

Alice smirked. “You heard me.”

Dimaria’s breath hitched. “You—you can’t be serious.” She let out a short, nervous laugh. “I am a princess. The daughter of the emperor. You expect me to—what? Scrub floors? Mend clothes? Are you insane?”

Alice’s smirk didn’t waver. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear niece. You won’t be scrubbing floors.” She paused, letting the moment hang in the air before she delivered the final blow. “You’ll be working in the stables.”

Dimaria’s world tilted.

“The… the stables?” she repeated dumbly, as if her brain refused to process the words.

Alice nodded. “Tomorrow at sunrise, you’ll begin your first day tending to the horses.”

Dimaria nearly had a heart attack. “You cannot be serious!”

“Oh, but I am.”

Dimaria’s entire body trembled in outrage. She had been subjected to many injustices in her life—overshadowed by Solina, laughed at by her father’s court, sent away like some common criminal—but this was, without a doubt, the most degrading thing she had ever experienced.

Tending to animals? Horses? Filthy, stinking beasts?

No. No, this was a nightmare. This was a punishment meant for peasants, not for royalty.

She shook her head wildly, her golden curls bouncing with the force of her disbelief. “I refuse,” she said firmly. “I will not degrade myself like that. You cannot force me.”

Alice let out a soft chuckle, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. “Oh, Dimaria,” she said with mock sympathy. “Do you think you have a choice?”

Dimaria’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You were sent here because your father wanted you to learn humility,” Alice continued. “Because after what you did in the capital, after the stunt you pulled with Captain Levi’s bachelor party, he realized you were nothing more than a spoiled child who needed to be disciplined.”

Dimaria flinched, her face burning with anger and shame. That incident had been a few short weeks ago, but it still haunted her. It had been a mistake—one that had cost her dearly.

Alice took a step closer, her brown eyes gleaming. “Your father gave me full authority over you while you’re here. That means you live under my rules, and my rules say that you will work.”

Dimaria’s hands shook. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I?”

The sheer confidence in her voice made Dimaria’s heart pound. She could feel herself spiraling, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of the reality pressing in on her. She had thought this place was just temporary. A few weeks, maybe, before her father would let her return to the capital.

But now, it was clear.

They didn’t plan on bringing her back anytime soon.

Alice tilted her head. “You’ll wake up at dawn,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’ll report to the stables, and the stablemaster will give you your duties.”

Dimaria let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “You expect me to clean after those wretched animals?”

Alice smirked. “I expect you to shovel their manure.”

Dimaria let out a strangled sound, something between a gasp and a sob. “You are a monster.”

Alice grinned. “And you are an entitled brat who needs to be knocked down a few pegs. Now, get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.”

With that, Alice turned on her heel and strolled toward the door.

“Aunt Alice—wait!” Dimaria called after her, desperation creeping into her voice. “Please—please reconsider! I’ll—I’ll do anything else! I’ll clean the kitchens, I’ll serve at dinner—anything but this!”

Alice paused at the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “You should have thought of that before you spent your whole life acting like you were above everyone else.”

And then, without another word, she walked out, closing the door behind her.

Dimaria stood frozen in place, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She turned to the shattered remnants of her pride reflected in the mirror.

This couldn’t be happening.

She wasn’t some stable girl.

She was a princess.

She was the daughter of an emperor.

And yet, as she stood there in her silk nightgown, trembling from rage and disbelief, she knew that tomorrow, when the sun rose, none of that would matter.

Because tomorrow, she would be nothing more than a servant.

…

The next day, Dimaria was already fuming when she made her way toward the stables, her delicate shoes sinking into the damp morning grass. She was over an hour late, and she didn’t care in the slightest. If they thought she was going to be up before sunrise to do peasant work, they were sorely mistaken. She had taken her time getting ready—well, as much as she could under these wretched conditions. There were no maids to help her dress, no scented oils for her bath, and no silk gowns lined with gold embroidery. Instead, she had thrown on the most presentable dress she could find—one of her simpler ones, but still vastly inappropriate for manual labor. A pale blue gown with lace trim and a flowing skirt that barely allowed for proper movement.

The stables smelled exactly as she expected—like sweat, hay, and filth. The scent made her wrinkle her nose in disgust, and she had half a mind to turn back and lock herself in her quarters for the remainder of her exile. But before she could turn around, a deep, gravelly voice called out from inside.

"You're late."

Dimaria stiffened. The voice was rich, slow, with a Southern Valorian accent—completely unfamiliar to her. She turned sharply toward the entrance of the stable, her golden curls bouncing as she did. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, was a man who looked entirely out of place on this miserable estate.

He was tall—well over six feet—with a body built from years of hard labor. His button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, was slightly unbuttoned at the top, exposing just a hint of tanned skin. His trousers were faded and well-worn, his boots caked with dirt, and his hands—large, calloused, and strong—rested against the wooden frame of the stable. His naturally curly, dirty-blonde hair was partially hidden beneath a weathered cowboy hat, and piercing blue eyes studied her with mild disinterest.

Dimaria blinked, momentarily taken aback. She had expected to be greeted by some old, grizzled stablehand—not someone who looked like he had just stepped out of one of her mother’s ridiculous romance novels. But she quickly recovered, raising her chin with practiced haughtiness.

"And you are?" she asked, voice dripping with superiority.

The man didn’t so much as blink. "Elliot Arlington. Stable master."

Stable master? Dimaria’s lips curled in distaste. "So you're a servant, then."

Elliot let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I ain't anyone’s servant, princess. I work for a living."

Dimaria scoffed. "Work. Yes, well, I wouldn't expect a commoner to understand the importance of proper etiquette, but you will address me as Your Highness."

Elliot remained unimpressed. "Yeah, that ain't happenin’."

Dimaria’s mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, stepping fully into the light. "You lost the right to that title when your daddy sent you out here to get your hands dirty. So unless you’re plannin’ on sittin’ in that fancy dress all day and watchin’ everyone else work, you’d best start actin’ like someone who ain’t above shovelin’ shit."

Dimaria was so shocked that she physically took a step back. Never in her life had anyone spoken to her like that. Not her servants, not the nobles at court, and certainly not some lowly stable master.

"How dare you speak to me that way!" she seethed, her voice rising in outrage. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Elliot let out a slow breath through his nose, looking her up and down with something bordering on boredom. "I know exactly who you are," he said. "You're a spoiled brat who ain't worked a day in her life, and you think your fancy blood makes you better than everyone else. But out here?" He gestured toward the stables. "None of that means a damn thing. You ain't got a title here, princess. Just a job to do."

Dimaria felt like she might explode. She had never been insulted so thoroughly in her entire life.

"You are insufferable," she hissed. "I refuse to degrade myself like this."

Elliot sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he were dealing with a particularly stubborn horse. "You don't got a choice, darlin’," he said. "You can either get to work, or you can spend the rest of your days locked up in that fancy little room of yours, rottin’ away with nothin’ but your own damn pride to keep you company."

Dimaria clenched her fists. She wanted to slap that smug look right off his face.

"I will be speaking to my aunt about this," she snapped.

Elliot shrugged. "Go right ahead. She's the one that hired me."

Dimaria’s eye twitched.

She had never met anyone like him before. He wasn’t afraid of her. He didn’t cower at her title or bow at her feet like all the other men she had encountered in court. No, Elliot Arlington was looking at her like she was nothing more than a nuisance—like she was some stubborn filly who needed breaking in.

She had never felt so insulted in her life.

With one last glare, she turned on her heel, prepared to march back inside and refuse to participate in this absurdity.

But before she could, Elliot called out, "Clock’s ticking, princess. The horses ain't gonna feed themselves."

And with that, he disappeared back into the stables, leaving Dimaria standing there, fuming, humiliated, and—for the first time in her life—completely out of her depth.

…

Dimaria stormed across the estate, her fine silk dress swishing around her legs as she searched for her aunt. Her perfectly curled blonde hair, which she had taken such care to brush out that morning, was now frizzing from the heat, and she was practically steaming with rage. That insufferable brute of a man! How dare he speak to her in such a way? Who did he think he was?

It didn’t take long for her to find her aunt. Princess Alice was in the gardens, kneeling in the dirt, her hands buried in the soil as she worked alongside the servants. The sight made Dimaria’s stomach churn with disgust. A Valorian princess—royalty—digging in the dirt like some commoner? The servants, too, were laughing and chatting as if they were equals to their mistress.

Dimaria’s horror deepened. Everything about this place was barbaric.

"Aunt Alice!" she shrieked, marching up to her.

Alice barely glanced up from where she was tending to a row of tomato plants. "Good morning, Dimaria," she said, her tone light and unbothered. "You’re up late."

Dimaria gaped at her. "I am not here to discuss my morning routine!" she snapped. "I want that stable master fired immediately!"

Alice let out a low hum of amusement, finally looking up. "Elliot?" she asked, as if she were genuinely confused by the demand. "What has he done now?"

Dimaria scoffed. "What hasn’t he done? He was disrespectful, insolent, and utterly uncouth! He refused to address me properly, he refused to obey my requests, and worst of all—he thinks he has the right to speak to me as if we are equals! Me! A princess of Valoria! I will not tolerate it. Fire him at once!"

Alice didn’t even try to hide her smirk. "No."

Dimaria’s nostrils flared. "No?"

Alice stood, dusting the dirt off her hands, and leveled her niece with a knowing look. "Dimaria, I hired Elliot for a reason. He’s the best stable master I’ve ever had, and he’s not afraid to put spoiled little girls like you in their place."

Dimaria gasped, her hands clenching into fists. "How dare you!"

Alice sighed, shaking her head. "You really don’t understand, do you? You’re not in the Lily House anymore. You’re not in court, surrounded by servants who coddle you and tell you whatever you want to hear. This is the real world, and out here, titles don’t mean a damn thing."

Dimaria’s face was growing redder by the second. "You cannot treat me like this! I will write to my father—"

Alice let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, by all means, do that. Write to him and tell him how unfair it is that I expect you to learn basic responsibility. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear about how well you’re adjusting."

Dimaria glared daggers at her. "I refuse to work with that brute!"

Alice smiled sweetly. "Oh, but you will."

Before Dimaria could protest, Alice grabbed her wrist and began leading her back toward the stables. "You’ll be working under Elliot’s watchful eye for the duration of your stay. He’s in charge, and you will learn everything there is to know about horses."

Dimaria’s jaw dropped in horror. "You are joking."

Alice didn’t answer. She simply dragged Dimaria along, ignoring the younger woman’s shrieks of protest.

Elliot was standing near one of the stables, talking with one of the younger stable hands, when he spotted them approaching. His sharp blue eyes flickered with amusement as he took in Dimaria’s furious expression.

Alice came to a stop in front of him. "Elliot," she said, "I’d like to formally introduce you to your new apprentice."

Elliot tilted his head, the corner of his lips twitching as he glanced at Dimaria. "Oh, really?"

Dimaria wrenched her arm free from Alice’s grip, glaring at them both. "I refuse! I refuse to work under this—this barbarian!"

Alice sighed, folding her arms. "You can either work under Elliot, or I can have the servants move all of your things out of the estate and into the workers’ quarters. Which will it be?"

Dimaria’s eyes widened in sheer outrage. "You wouldn’t dare."

Alice simply raised a brow.

Elliot let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "Ain’t got much of a choice now, do ya, princess?"

Dimaria was shaking with fury. How dare they put her in this position? How dare they humiliate her like this? She had been a princess her entire life, groomed to be a noblewoman of high standing. And now, they expected her to take orders from some rugged, ill-mannered stable master?

"Unacceptable!" she shrieked. And before she could stop herself, she raised her hand to slap Elliot right across the face.

Elliot’s reflexes were fast—too fast. Before her palm could make contact, he grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

Dimaria gasped, her body jolting at the unexpected counter. "Unhand me, you—"

But in her fury, she didn’t realize that she had stepped backward. And before she could regain her balance, her foot slipped on something soft and wet.

Time seemed to slow.

Dimaria barely had time to let out a startled gasp before her feet were swept out from under her, and she tumbled backward—right into a pile of horse manure.

The world went silent for a moment.

Then, there was a loud, sharp burst of laughter.

Alice had to turn away, pressing a hand to her mouth as her shoulders shook. The stable hands watching from the side were practically doubled over, gasping for breath.

And Elliot? Elliot was standing over her, arms crossed, grinning down at her with pure, unfiltered amusement.

Dimaria was frozen in horror. The stench hit her first—overpowering and putrid. Then came the slow, terrible realization that she was covered in it. Her dress, her hands, her golden curls—all smeared with filth.

A scream ripped from her throat. "No! NO! This cannot be happening!"

Elliot smirked. "Welcome to ranch life, princess."

The thick, putrid stench of manure engulfing her senses. The world had narrowed to just this moment—this humiliating, vile, soul-crushing moment. The once-pristine silk of her dress was completely ruined, the golden curls she had spent so much time perfecting now plastered against her face, streaked with filth.

She could hear the muffled laughter, the quiet snickers from the stable hands, her aunt’s barely contained amusement, and most of all, that insufferable brute standing over her with a smirk far too satisfied for her liking.

"You gonna sit there all day, princess, or are you gonna get up?" Elliot drawled, arms crossed as he looked down at her.

Dimaria gritted her teeth, her whole body stiff with indignation. She wanted to snap back with something scathing, something that would remind this lowly stable master exactly who she was. But right now, she looked, smelled, and felt nothing like a princess.

She shot up so fast it startled one of the nearby stable hands, but her dramatic exit was short-lived. As soon as she tried to take a step forward, her foot slipped again in the same disgusting mess, and she barely caught herself before she went tumbling back into it.

Alice let out an actual snort this time, unable to contain her amusement. "Well, I’d say she’s settling in just fine."

Dimaria turned her furious gaze to her aunt. "This is your fault!" she screeched. "You are humiliating me on purpose! You and that—that brute!"

Elliot let out a slow whistle. "Darlin', you did that all on your own."

Dimaria whipped around, her eyes blazing with fury. "Do not call me that!"

Elliot raised an unimpressed brow. "Would you prefer ‘Princess Pile of Horse Shit’ instead?"

A strangled noise of sheer outrage left her throat, her hands clenching into fists. "I swear to the gods above, I will have you hanged for this!"

Elliot just shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. "Mmm. Well, before you start plannin’ my execution, why don’t we clean you up first?"

Dimaria narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Elliot turned, walking toward a nearby well pump. He grabbed a coiled-up hose attached to the pump and gave it a quick flick, unraveling it with practiced ease.

She blinked. "What are you—"

She didn’t have time to finish.

Cold. Ice-cold.

A sharp, high-pitched shriek ripped through the stables as a powerful jet of freezing water hit her dead-on, soaking her from head to toe. Dimaria flailed wildly, her breath catching in her throat as the shock of the temperature sent her into a frenzy.

"Stop! Stop! YOU BEAST! YOU—" She sputtered, gasping as Elliot continued to spray her down mercilessly.

"Hold still," Elliot said, sounding entirely too amused. "You still got some on your hair."

Dimaria shrieked again, ducking and dodging, but there was no escape. The water drenched her completely, sending rivulets of filth and manure washing off her dress and pooling into the dirt below.

Alice, meanwhile, had completely lost it. She was actually clutching her stomach, her laughter ringing through the air, the stable hands doubling over alongside her.

After what felt like an eternity, the water finally ceased, and Dimaria stood there, soaked, shivering, and looking like a drowned cat. Her normally pristine blonde curls clung limply to her face, her expensive dress completely ruined beyond repair.

"You," she gasped, her voice shaking with cold and fury, "are a monster!"

Elliot tilted his head, still holding the hose. "Nah, just doin' my job."

Dimaria let out a sound that was half sob, half growl, her fists trembling at her sides. "I will KILL you!"

Elliot didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Instead, he tossed the hose aside and turned toward one of the stable doors. After rummaging around for a moment, he returned and tossed something at her.

It smacked against her chest before she fumbled to grab it, her drenched fingers gripping the rough fabric. She looked down and nearly gagged.

A stable hand’s uniform.

It was a simple, coarse tunic and a pair of trousers, the material rough and meant for labor. Dimaria recoiled as if she had been handed a dead rat.

"You expect me to wear this?!" she hissed, her voice rising with disbelief.

Elliot shrugged. "Can’t have you prancin’ around the stables in that mess of a dress. Ain’t practical."

Alice, still wiping away tears from laughing, cleared her throat. "He's right. You’ll need something more suitable for your new duties."

Dimaria's whole world was crumbling around her. First, she had been exiled to this filthy countryside, then forced to interact with commoners, then humiliated beyond belief, and now—now they expected her to dress like one of them?

"This is a nightmare," she whispered, staring at the uniform like it was a death sentence.

Elliot crossed his arms. "Well, unless you wanna do your chores buck-naked, I suggest you put it on."

Dimaria’s eyes widened in sheer horror, and she let out a strangled gasp. "You—you vile, disgusting—!"

"Enough, Dimaria," Alice interjected, her tone carrying a sharpness that cut through her niece’s tantrum. "You will put it on, and you will report to work immediately after."

Dimaria turned to her aunt, eyes pleading. "Aunt Alice, please—"

Alice’s face was as unyielding as steel. "Go change."

Dimaria’s throat tightened, and she realized then, with sickening clarity, that there was no way out of this. None at all. No amount of pleading, tantrums, or declarations of nobility would save her.

She was well and truly trapped.

With a sharp inhale, she snatched the uniform and turned on her heel, stomping toward the estate, her wet dress leaving a miserable trail of water behind her.

Elliot watched her go, shaking his head in amusement. "She’s gonna be a real fun one," he muttered.

Alice let out a chuckle. "Oh, you have no idea."

…

After she was changed, Dimaria stormed back to the stables, her face burning with indignation as the rough fabric of the stable hand’s uniform itched against her skin. The tunic was too loose, hanging off her frame in an unflattering way, and the trousers were slightly baggy around the legs. It was humiliating. No silks, no lace, no embellishments—just plain, coarse fabric meant for common laborers. She looked like one of them.

Elliot was waiting for her when she arrived, leaning against a wooden post with his arms crossed, that damnable smirk still tugging at his lips. He gave her a once-over, then let out a low whistle.

"Well, ain't that a sight," he muttered.

Dimaria scowled. "I hate you."

Elliot snorted. "You’ll live."

He stepped closer, reaching up to gesture toward her long blonde hair, still damp and tangled from the unfortunate manure incident. "You’re gonna wanna tie that back," he told her casually. "Some of the horses like to pull hair. And trust me, you do not wanna be on the receiving end of that."

Dimaria stiffened, her fingers instinctively twitching toward her scalp. "They—what?"

Elliot nodded, completely unfazed. "Yeah. Had a stable hand once—guy had a ponytail longer than yours. One of the stallions yanked it so hard he was on his ass faster than he could blink."

Dimaria paled. "Disgusting creatures," she muttered under her breath, but she reached up and hastily twisted her hair into a quick knot anyway. She may have been stubborn, but she wasn’t about to risk being dragged around by her scalp.

Elliot watched her with an amused expression before nodding in approval. "Alright, good. Now, let’s get you acquainted with your new coworkers."

Dimaria blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The horses," Elliot clarified, already turning on his heel and strolling deeper into the stables. "Come on, princess. Time for introductions."

Dimaria let out a frustrated groan but reluctantly followed, her boots scuffing against the dirt floor. The stables were warm, the scent of hay thick in the air, mingled with the earthy musk of horses. Dimaria wrinkled her nose at the smell, but what caught her attention more than anything was the way Elliot’s entire demeanor seemed to shift as he stepped up to the first stall.

His rugged features softened slightly, his blue eyes filled with an unmistakable warmth as he reached over the gate to stroke the muzzle of a large chestnut stallion. The beast huffed softly, leaning into the touch, completely at ease with him.

"This here’s Chestnut," Elliot said, his voice lower, almost fond. "Stubborn as hell, but one of the best horses we got."

Dimaria eyed the stallion warily. "It’s enormous."

Elliot chuckled. "That’s what a horse is supposed to be, princess."

Dimaria huffed. "He looks… dangerous."

Elliot gave her a side glance. "Only if you don’t know what you’re doin’."

The way he spoke—it wasn’t just confidence. It was knowledge, an understanding of these creatures that Dimaria had never seen before. She had spent her life around wealth, politics, and nobility, but never once had she met a man who spoke about horses with such care, as if they were more than just beasts of burden.

She watched as Elliot moved to the next stall, where a sleek black mare perked up at his approach, ears twitching forward in interest.

"This one’s Midnight," he introduced. "Fast, smart, a little too nosy for her own good."

Midnight nickered in response, bumping her nose against Elliot’s chest. He let out a soft chuckle, scratching just beneath her jawline.

Dimaria crossed her arms. "Are you… talking to them?"

Elliot smirked, not looking away from the mare. "Horses ain’t dumb, princess. They got personalities, just like people. Some are gentle, some are stubborn, some got a mean streak. You gotta know how to read ‘em."

Dimaria frowned, her gaze flicking between the man and the animal. "They’re just horses."

Elliot turned then, his smirk fading slightly as he studied her. "And you're just a spoiled little rich girl who’s never had to work a day in her life," he said bluntly.

Dimaria’s nostrils flared. "How dare you—"

"Prove me wrong," Elliot cut her off, his voice calm but firm. "You wanna get through this, wanna show your daddy and your aunt that you ain’t just some useless noble with a fancy title? Then start learnin’. Pay attention. Put in the work."

Dimaria clenched her fists at her sides, her entire body rigid with indignation. She wanted to snap back, to tear him down with words the way she did with servants and courtiers alike. But for the first time in her life, she got the distinct feeling that her usual approach wouldn’t work here.

Elliot wasn’t afraid of her.

She had no power here.

Dimaria swallowed hard, her throat tight as she turned her gaze to the black mare in front of her. The horse was watching her, ears flicking, nostrils flaring slightly. She was… curious.

Taking a slow breath, Dimaria hesitated, then tentatively lifted a hand toward the mare’s nose.

Before she could make contact, the horse pulled back slightly, as if sensing her hesitation.

Elliot clicked his tongue. "She ain't gonna bite you. But she ain't gonna trust you if you're actin' scared."

Dimaria straightened, her pride bristling at the comment. She forced herself to step forward, keeping her hand steady this time, and—after what felt like an eternity—Midnight leaned in, her velvety nose brushing against Dimaria’s palm.

It was… warm.

Soft.

For a brief second, something flickered inside Dimaria’s chest, something she couldn��t quite describe.

Elliot watched her closely, and after a beat, he nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice quieter now. "That’s a start."

Dimaria pulled her hand back quickly, stuffing it into her pocket as she huffed. "That was… tolerable."

Elliot smirked. "Uh-huh."

She glared at him. "Do not patronize me."

Elliot chuckled, stepping back and gesturing toward the rest of the stable. "Come on, princess. We still got plenty more to introduce you to."

Dimaria groaned. This was going to be a long, long day.

…

The days on the ranch passed in a blur, turning into weeks, and to Dimaria’s utter disbelief, she was still here. She had yet to receive a letter from her father, nor had her mother written to assure her that she would be returning to Valoria soon. It was as if they had both abandoned her here to rot among the dirt, the horses, and these unrefined commoners.

She hated it. Or at least, she kept telling herself she did.

But there was no denying that something inside her was shifting.

Dimaria still refused to eat with the servants at dinner, her pride too deeply ingrained in her to sit at the same table with those beneath her. But she had grown less venomous in her interactions with them. The biting remarks she once wielded like daggers were now more infrequent, and though she rarely initiated conversation, when spoken to, she would respond.

Alice noticed.

Her aunt still watched her closely, often checking in throughout the day with a knowing glint in her eye. Dimaria didn’t understand what she was expecting to happen—surely Alice didn’t believe this place was changing her? She was still Dimaria of Valoria, a princess of the Lily House. She had not forgotten who she was.

And yet… she could not ignore that there was one thing that had begun to anchor her to this place.

Midnight.

At first, Dimaria had been wary of the black mare, her size and powerful presence making her uneasy. But the more time she spent around her, the more she began to understand what Elliot had meant when he said that horses had personalities.

Midnight was intelligent, perceptive, and patient in a way that unsettled Dimaria. It was almost as if the mare could see right through her, sensing things that Dimaria hadn’t even begun to understand about herself. Whenever she approached, the horse would greet her with a slow blink, her dark eyes calm, and for some reason, it made Dimaria feel… safe.

Elliot had taken notice, of course.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long, princess,” he drawled one afternoon as he leaned against the stable door, watching Dimaria brush Midnight’s sleek coat with careful, deliberate strokes. “Figured you’d have thrown another tantrum and tried to hitch a ride back to the capital by now.”

Dimaria scowled at him, though there was no real malice in her expression. “I’m not a child, Arlington.”

Elliot smirked. “Could’ve fooled me that first day.”

She huffed, turning her attention back to Midnight. “I am only still here because my father has yet to send for me.”

Elliot shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you ain’t in as much of a hurry to leave as you thought.”

Dimaria stiffened at that, her fingers pausing briefly in their movement along Midnight’s side. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.

Elliot chuckled. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, the only sound being the gentle rustling of the horses in their stalls.

Elliot spoke again, his voice more thoughtful this time. “You’re good with her, you know.”

Dimaria blinked, turning slightly to glance at him. “What?”

“Midnight,” Elliot nodded toward the mare. “She likes you.”

Dimaria frowned. “How can you tell?”

Elliot tilted his head. “Horses don’t lie. They don’t pretend to like someone just to be polite. If she didn’t trust you, you’d know it. But look at her.”

Dimaria hesitated, then turned her gaze back to Midnight. The mare stood completely still, relaxed under her touch, her ears tilted slightly back—not in fear, but in contentment.

Dimaria swallowed. “I suppose… that is nice.”

Elliot grinned. “See? You’re not completely hopeless.”

She shot him a glare. “You are insufferable.”

Elliot chuckled but said nothing more, leaving her to finish brushing Midnight.

It was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever received from him, and for some reason, it made her chest feel warm.

Alice watched the exchange from a distance, her lips curling into a knowing smile. Yes, her niece was changing. Slowly, but surely. And Alice had a feeling that it had a lot to do with a certain stable master and a particular black mare.

She just wondered how long it would take Dimaria to realize it herself.

…

Each morning, Dimaria found herself walking the same path, her steps guided more by habit than hope. The wooden steps of her aunt’s grand yet simple home creaked beneath her feet as she approached the post table, where letters and parcels were neatly arranged. The servants barely glanced at her anymore, having grown used to the routine. She would come, search through the letters with growing disappointment, and then leave in silence.

Today was no different.

Her fingers trailed over the stacks of correspondence. There were letters for Princess Alice, messages from nobles in Valoria, and even a letter addressed to Elliot from someone she did not recognize. But there was nothing for her.

Nothing from her father.

Nothing from her mother.

Nothing from James even.

She had expected that, by now, there would be a letter from her father summoning her home. She had spent weeks imagining what it would say, how he would tell her that he had forgiven her for her supposed transgressions and that she could return to the comforts of the Lily House.

But as the days stretched into weeks, no such letter came.

At first, she tried to convince herself that he was simply too busy. Running an empire was not a minor thing. But yet, if he had the time to run an empire, then surely he had the time to write to her. Even if it was not to bring her home, a letter just to check on her, to ask how she was faring, would have sufficed.

But there was nothing.

Her mother had not written, either. Lady Darcy, who had once fawned over her so much, who had told her that she was special, chosen, better than the rest—had she forgotten about her too? Had she decided that her daughter was no longer worth writing to now that she had been cast out to the countryside like a common criminal?

And James.

The one person who should have at least cared enough to send word.

Her hands clenched at the edges of the table, her chest tightening with something she did not want to name. James had always been her closest ally, her only true friend among their siblings. Their mother had made sure of that. She had filled Dimaria’s head with ideas of superiority, of the Lily House’s greatness. She had convinced Dimaria that the other consorts and their children were beneath them, that they were to be seen as rivals rather than family.

And for years, Dimaria had believed her.

She had shunned her half-siblings, kept herself distant even when some of them had tried to reach out.

Solina had once been her friend, long ago. When they were children, before titles and court politics had tainted their bond, they had been inseparable. They would run through the palace gardens together, chase butterflies, and play in the fountains despite the disapproving looks of their governesses.

But then, everything changed.

Puberty came, and suddenly, they were no longer just children—they were young women in the Valorian court, and the games they had once played were replaced by power struggles they did not even realize they were a part of. Lady Darcy had wasted no time in poisoning Dimaria’s mind against Solina.

“She is not your sister,” her mother had said, brushing her long blonde hair with meticulous precision, as if weaving her words into the strands themselves. “She is your competition. And if you are not careful, she will take everything from you.”

Dimaria had been naive enough to believe it.

She had begun to view Solina not as the sweet sister she had once known, but as an enemy. A threat. Someone who could steal the coveted title of Diamond of Valoria, the title Dimaria had been raised to believe was meant to be hers.

And then, her worst fears had come true.

Their father had named Solina the Diamond.

Dimaria could still remember the moment as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. The grand ballroom, the way their father had spoken Solina’s name with such pride, the applause that had followed. The way Solina’s emerald eyes had widened in shock, then softened with emotion. The way their father had looked at her, like she was the brightest star in his sky.

That was the moment Dimaria’s resentment solidified into something colder, something sharper.

That was the moment she truly began to hate her sister.

And now?

Dimaria was forgotten.

She exhaled sharply, pulling her hand away from the stack of letters as if they had burned her. She refused to let this consume her.

She had more important things to worry about.

With stiff shoulders and her chin lifted high, she turned away from the post table and strode back toward the stables. She had work to do. She might have been exiled to this wretched place, but she would not let it break her. She was a princess of the Lily House.

And she would find a way to make them remember that.

But Elliot had noticed that Dimaria had been quieter today.

He’d noticed it the moment she walked out of the house, her posture still regal, her chin still tilted up in that defiant way of hers, but her steps lacked their usual sharpness. There was something missing in the way she moved, like her fire had dimmed just a little. And then he saw it—the flicker of sadness in her eyes when she glanced at the post table and found nothing waiting for her.

Again.

He didn’t know why it bothered him. Dimaria was still as insufferable as ever, still spoiled, still difficult, still convinced that the world owed her something. But in the weeks she had been here, Elliot had seen something shift in her, even if she refused to admit it. She still threw tantrums, still complained, still made snide remarks—but there were moments, small fleeting moments, when she almost seemed… human.

She was still a brat. But she was a brat he had grown fond of.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but something in him had softened toward her. Maybe it was when he first saw her interact with Midnight, the way her guard slipped just a little when she thought no one was looking. Maybe it was how she no longer flinched when her hands got dirty, even though she would complain about it later. Or maybe it was the way she looked today, with sadness carved into her features, standing there in the morning sun looking more alone than she probably ever had in her life.

Elliot leaned against the stable door, arms crossed. “You ever been on a real horseback ride before, princess?”

Dimaria turned, blinking as if she hadn’t realized he was watching. Her lips immediately pulled into that haughty frown. “Of course, I have,” she scoffed. “I’ve had riding lessons since I was a child.”

He smirked. “Riding lessons ain’t the same as a real ride.”

She crossed her arms, narrowing her brown eyes at him. “And what exactly do you mean by a real ride, stable boy?”

Elliot pushed off the stable door and gestured toward the open fields. “No fenced-in paddock. No trainers hovering over you. Just you, the horse, and open land as far as you can see. That’s a real ride.”

Dimaria hesitated, her fingers tightening around her sleeves. “That sounds reckless.”

“That’s the point.” He tilted his head, watching her reaction. “Might do you some good to let go a little.”

She scoffed. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Sure,” he drawled, his blue eyes sharp with knowing. “That’s why you’ve been starin’ at that post table every morning like you’re waitin’ for a damn miracle.”

Her face darkened. “I am not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Elliot interrupted, his voice softer than she expected. “I ain’t stupid.”

Dimaria swallowed hard. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to acknowledge the aching void inside her, the gnawing loneliness she refused to name. And she certainly didn’t want Elliot of all people to see through her.

But he already had.

She huffed, folding her arms tighter. “And what exactly do you think a horseback ride will do for me?”

Elliot grinned. “Give you somethin’ else to think about.”

For a moment, she considered refusing, just out of spite. But something about the way he was looking at her, with patience she didn’t think he was capable of, made her pause.

“…Fine,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as if she were doing him a favor. “But if I get dirty, I swear—”

“You’re always dirty now, princess.” He laughed, already heading toward the stalls. “A little more won’t kill you.”

Dimaria followed him into the stables, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted. She told herself it was annoyance, not something else.

Elliot saddled up Midnight for her, the black mare tossing her head as if she already knew what was about to happen. “She’s got some spirit in her, so you better hold on tight,” Elliot warned, handing her the reins.

Dimaria stroked Midnight’s neck, feeling the warmth of her coat beneath her fingers. “I can handle her,” she said, her voice steady.

Elliot smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

He saddled his own horse—an older, sturdy chestnut named Whiskey—and within minutes, they were riding out past the estate, toward the open fields that stretched beyond the ranch. Dimaria felt the cool wind against her skin, the morning air crisp with the scent of grass and earth. It was strange, being out here with no walls around her, no guards watching, no expectations weighing her down.

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or if it terrified her.

Elliot rode beside her, keeping pace with ease. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to pry into her thoughts. He just rode, his body moving with the horse like they were one. Dimaria glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching the way his jaw was relaxed, the way his hands gripped the reins without tension. He looked… at peace.

She envied him for that.

After a while, Elliot nudged his horse ahead, turning to look at her. “You ready for a real ride, princess?”

Dimaria raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

His grin was wild. “Race you to the tree line.”

Before she could respond, he spurred Whiskey forward, taking off across the field in a blur of speed.

Dimaria gasped, staring after him. “That cheating—!”

Midnight pranced beneath her, eager to run.

She didn’t think.

She didn’t hesitate.

She leaned forward, pressing her heels into Midnight’s sides, and the mare surged forward, hooves pounding against the earth. The wind whipped through her hair, her breath catching as she raced after Elliot, the world around her blurring into motion.

For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about the letters that never came.

She wasn’t thinking about her father.

She wasn’t thinking about Solina.

For the first time in weeks, she was just Dimaria.

And for the briefest moment, that was enough.

Eventually, the pounding of hooves gradually softened as Midnight and Whiskey slowed their pace, the exhilaration of the race giving way to steady, rhythmic strides. Dimaria barely realized how breathless she had become, her chest rising and falling as she pulled Midnight’s reins gently, guiding the black mare to a stop near a wide stretch of open land where the grass grew thick and green.

Elliot did the same, allowing Whiskey to graze lazily nearby. He adjusted his hat, wiping the thin layer of sweat from his brow before glancing over at Dimaria. Her face was flushed, her golden hair slightly disheveled from the wind, but there was something softer about her expression—less rigid, less guarded.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of nature filled the silence between them—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, the gentle snorts of their horses as they pulled at the grass. Elliot leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on the pommel of his saddle as he watched Dimaria, studying her in a way that made her fidget.

"You wanna talk about it?" he finally asked, his voice low, even.

Dimaria stiffened slightly at his words, her knee-jerk reaction screaming at her to refuse, to brush him off like she always did. But this time, she found she didn’t have the energy. She let out a long sigh, her fingers tightening around Midnight’s reins.

"You wouldn’t understand," she muttered, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Elliot raised an eyebrow at that, amused by the familiar words. He had heard them plenty of times from her before. But this time, there was no venom in her voice, no haughty disdain—just quiet exhaustion.

"Try me," he said simply.

Dimaria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t know why she even considered entertaining the conversation. Maybe it was the stillness of the moment, the openness of the field around them, or maybe—just maybe—it was because, for once, someone was asking her what was wrong without expecting something from her in return.

She inhaled slowly, exhaled just as deeply. "I expected letters."

Elliot didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

"From my father, from my mother, from my brother James," she elaborated, her voice tight, controlled. "From anyone. But there’s been nothing. No word, no message, no acknowledgment that I even exist anymore. It’s as if I was erased the moment I was sent away."

Elliot studied her carefully. "That what’s got you all twisted up inside? Feelin’ forgotten?"

Dimaria’s lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated. The truth was, yes. That was exactly what it was. But she wasn’t about to admit it so easily.

"I am their daughter," she said instead, her fingers clenching around the leather straps. "No matter what happened, I am still their child. I am still part of the Imperial family. How could they just... cut me off like this?"

Elliot clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Princess, let me ask you somethin’."

She turned her head slightly toward him, frowning.

"What exactly were you expectin' from them? Letters beggin’ you to come back? Promises that everything would go back to the way it was?"

Dimaria opened her mouth, then closed it, her breath hitching slightly. She hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but now that he said it, she realized how foolish it sounded.

Elliot continued, his tone even. "I ain’t tryin’ to be cruel, but sometimes the hardest thing to swallow is the truth. You were sent here for a reason. Might not be a fair one, might not be one you agree with, but it happened. And sittin’ around waitin’ for someone to change their mind ain’t gonna do you any good."

Dimaria’s jaw tensed, her eyes narrowing. "So what, you think I should just accept that I’ve been cast aside? Just move on and pretend none of this matters?"

Elliot shrugged. "Ain’t about pretendin’. It’s about seein’ what’s in front of you instead of what’s behind you."

Dimaria exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples in frustration. "That is such a commoner way of thinking."

Elliot laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "And that’s such a spoiled way of avoidin’ the truth."

Dimaria turned to glare at him, but there was no true heat behind it. Instead, there was something else—something uncertain, something lost. Elliot saw it, and for once, he didn’t push her. He let the silence settle between them again, let her sit with her own thoughts.

Midnight shifted beneath her, flicking her tail, nudging Dimaria’s leg slightly as if sensing her unease. Instinctively, Dimaria reached down, stroking the mare’s neck, finding comfort in the warmth of her coat.

"I don’t know who I am without them," she admitted, so softly that Elliot almost didn’t hear it.

But he did. And it struck something in him.

He sat up straighter, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Maybe that’s somethin’ worth figurin’ out."

Dimaria glanced at him, her lips pressed together. She hated that he always had an answer for everything, hated that he never just let her wallow. But at the same time, some small part of her—one she barely acknowledged—felt the tiniest flicker of gratitude.

"You’re annoying," she muttered.

Elliot smirked. "Right back at ya, Princess."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

For now, that was enough.

They continued riding, the wind rushing past them as they galloped through the open field. Dimaria had to admit, despite everything, she enjoyed riding with Elliot. She felt a sense of freedom she hadn’t experienced in a long time—no expectations, no stiff court etiquette, no overbearing mother watching her every move. Just the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth, the steady presence of Elliot riding beside her, and the crisp countryside air filling her lungs.

After a while, they slowed their pace as they approached a small river nestled between a grove of trees. The water glistened in the afternoon sun, its surface rippling gently as a breeze rolled through. It was a peaceful place, untouched by the chaos of court politics or the weight of familial expectations. Elliot hopped off his horse first and led him to the riverbank, allowing the stallion to lower his head and drink. Dimaria followed suit, dismounting gracefully—at least, she thought she did.

Just as her feet hit the ground, her boot caught on an exposed root hidden beneath the grass. Before she could react, she pitched forward, her arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain balance. Panic shot through her—falling was one thing, but falling on her face in front of Elliot was absolutely unacceptable.

Before she could hit the ground, strong hands caught her waist, steadying her with an unshakable grip. Her heart lurched as she felt herself being pulled upright, and in a matter of seconds, she found herself pressed against Elliot’s solid chest.

For a moment, time seemed to slow.

Dimaria was aware of everything—the warmth of his hands on her waist, the way his fingers splayed protectively against her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her palms. Her breath hitched as she tilted her head up, locking eyes with him. His striking blue gaze bore into hers, unreadable but intense, like the ocean before a storm.

She had always thought Elliot was rugged—handsome in that unpolished, infuriating way—but she had never allowed herself to really look at him like this before. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way the golden strands of his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the depth in his eyes. There was a roughness to him, a rawness, unlike any man she had ever known.

Elliot, on the other hand, had always acknowledged that Dimaria was beautiful—she was a princess, after all, bred for perfection. But standing here, holding her like this, he realized her beauty wasn’t just in the aristocratic symmetry of her face or the elegance she carried. It was in the way her lips parted slightly in surprise, the flush on her cheeks, the way her long lashes framed those fierce brown eyes. She wasn’t just a spoiled princess anymore—there was something else, something real, something vulnerable.

His gaze flickered to her lips.

Dimaria's breath caught in her throat.

Elliot felt himself start to lean in. It was instinct, unthinking, as if something unseen was pulling him toward her. The world around them faded—the rustling trees, the distant chirping of birds, even the water lapping gently at the riverbank. All that existed in that moment was her.

Dimaria didn’t move away. She should have. She should have pulled back, scoffed, made some snide remark to break the tension, but she didn’t. She stood there, frozen in place, watching as he inched closer. She wasn’t sure what was more shocking—that Elliot was about to kiss her, or that she was going to let him.

Just as the space between them was about to disappear, a sharp neigh shattered the moment.

Midnight, standing a few feet away, tossed her head and let out another loud whinny, stomping her hooves impatiently in the dirt. The sound snapped both of them out of their daze like a slap to the face.

Elliot immediately straightened, clearing his throat, and practically dropped Dimaria as he stepped back. Dimaria, now steady on her feet, quickly smoothed out her tunic and averted her gaze, her heart still hammering in her chest.

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

Elliot rubbed the back of his neck, staring anywhere but at her. “You, uh… you alright?”

Dimaria folded her arms and forced herself to scoff, hoping to mask the flustered state she was in. “I would have been fine without your help.”

He let out a low chuckle, though there was still a hint of tension in his voice. “Sure you would’ve. Would’ve landed face-first in the mud, but yeah, totally fine.”

Dimaria scowled, but it didn’t have the usual bite. She was still too thrown off by what had almost happened. By what she had almost let happen.

Elliot turned toward his horse, busying himself by adjusting the saddle strap, though his movements were a little too forceful. He was internally berating himself. What the hell had he been thinking? Kissing her? He had to be out of his damn mind. She was still a spoiled, entitled brat, no matter how much she’d changed over the past few weeks. And she was still a princess. And he was just a stable master.

But what was worse—far worse—was the fact that she hadn’t pulled away.

Dimaria, meanwhile, was desperately trying to collect herself. Her thoughts were a mess. Her emotions were a mess. This was Elliot, the same man who had laughed at her when she fell into a pile of manure and hosed her down like a dog. The same man who had made it his personal mission to put her in her place. He was rude, insufferable, stubborn, and yet… she had wanted him to kiss her.

And it terrified her.

She stole a quick glance at him. He was standing stiffly, pretending to focus on his horse, but she could see it. The way his jaw was clenched a little too tightly, the way he wasn’t looking at her at all, like he was trying to pretend the moment had never happened.

Maybe that was for the best.

Dimaria exhaled slowly, composing herself, before she flipped her hair over her shoulder and straightened her back. “We should head back.”

Elliot gave a small nod, finally meeting her gaze again, though his expression was unreadable. “Yeah. We should.”

They both mounted their horses in silence, neither one acknowledging what had almost happened between them. The air still felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, but neither of them dared to address it.

As they rode back toward the ranch, both Dimaria and Elliot were lost in their own thoughts, trying to ignore the undeniable truth neither of them wanted to face.

They had almost kissed.

And even worse?

They had both wanted it.

…

Three Months Later

The estate had taken on an entirely different atmosphere over the past three months. The once-hostile princess, who had arrived with nothing but scorn and disdain, was now… different. The servants who once cowered under her sharp tongue now found themselves exchanging words with her—actual conversations, not just clipped demands. Dimaria still held herself with an air of nobility, but the rigid coldness that once defined her presence had softened into something else entirely.

Princess Alice noticed it first during dinner.

It had been months since Dimaria first arrived, and she had stubbornly refused to eat with the household staff. Yet tonight, for the third time this week, she sat at the long wooden table among them, her back still straight with the practiced posture of a noblewoman, but her expression was noticeably more relaxed.

She even smiled—though rare and fleeting, Alice had caught it.

Dimaria still wasn’t overly warm, but she wasn’t unreachable anymore. She actually conversed with the stablehands, even the maids she had once looked down upon. She no longer turned up her nose at the simple, hearty meals placed before her. In fact, she ate without complaint. There was even a moment—Alice almost had to rub her eyes in disbelief—where Dimaria leaned over to help a younger maid pass a plate of fresh bread across the table.

The change wasn’t lost on Elliot either. He watched her closely from his seat, discreetly observing the way she carried herself now compared to before. She was still Dimaria, still proud, still stubborn, but something about her was undeniably different. She wasn’t just tolerating her life here anymore—she was adjusting to it.

It was… nice.

And yet, for all her growth, for all the ways she had slowly let herself open up, there was one thing that remained unresolved between them.

The almost-kiss.

It had happened weeks ago, and neither of them had spoken of it since. Not a single word. But every single day since then, it lingered in the back of their minds, festering like an unsaid truth they were both too afraid to acknowledge.

Elliot caught her looking at him sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t sure if it was lingering annoyance from that moment, or something else. He didn’t dare ask.

Dimaria, on the other hand, couldn’t understand why the thought of that moment still made her heart race. Why, whenever Elliot stood too close to her in the stables, she felt like she had to hold her breath. Why, whenever she saw his blue eyes flicker to hers for just a second too long, she had to remind herself to look away.

She had never struggled with self-control before. She had never wanted for anything in her life. And she certainly had never allowed herself to be distracted by a man—especially not a stablehand.

And yet, here she was.

Alice, ever perceptive, had already put the pieces together. It wasn’t hard to see. She noticed the way Elliot would lean just a little closer when Dimaria was speaking. The way Dimaria’s eyes softened ever so slightly when Elliot spoke to her. The way they were always aware of each other, even in a crowded room.

Something was happening between them.

Alice didn’t miss the longing glances, the tension that thickened the air when they stood too close, the way Elliot's expression hardened slightly whenever another stablehand so much as made Dimaria laugh.

Yes, Alice had seen that expression before. And she knew exactly what it meant.

She smirked to herself as she sipped her wine.

"So, Dimaria," Alice suddenly said, breaking the natural hum of conversation around the table.

Dimaria looked up, her brow arching slightly. "Yes?"

"You’ve been spending an awful lot of time in the stables lately." Alice’s voice was casual, but there was a glint of mischief in her emerald eyes.

Dimaria, to her credit, didn’t immediately react, though Elliot stiffened slightly beside her.

"It is part of my work, Aunt Alice," Dimaria said smoothly, cutting into her roasted vegetables. "Or would you rather me shirk my duties?"

Alice chuckled. "Oh, no, I think it's wonderful. I was just noticing how you seem to be taking to it much better than I expected. Especially under Elliot’s supervision."

Dimaria’s fork paused briefly before she continued eating. She didn’t look at Elliot.

"I suppose I have gotten used to it," she admitted, voice steady.

Alice smiled, entirely too entertained by the situation. She turned her gaze to Elliot, who was still focused on his plate but was clearly paying attention.

"And what about you, Elliot? Has Dimaria been a good apprentice?"

Elliot finally looked up, meeting Alice’s gaze before shifting his eyes toward Dimaria.

"She’s improving," he said simply, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "Still a little slow, but not useless anymore."

Dimaria shot him a glare. "How gracious of you."

Alice laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, this is fun to watch."

Dimaria scowled. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Alice only raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you don’t."

Elliot cleared his throat and pushed his plate forward. "Well, that’s my cue. Long day tomorrow, gotta check on the new colt in the morning." He stood, giving Alice a small nod before turning to Dimaria. "Try not to be late this time."

Dimaria rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Elliot left, but not before Alice caught the way his fingers curled slightly, like he was resisting the urge to do something—reach for something, perhaps?

Alice smirked into her wine glass.

Oh, yes.

This was going to be very interesting.

…

The day had started like any other. The crisp morning air carried the scent of fresh hay and damp earth as the sun crept over the horizon, bathing the ranch in a golden glow. The horses were restless, eager to be let out, and the stablehands moved about their work with the ease of routine.

Dimaria had long since adjusted to her new life here, though she still carried remnants of her old self—an occasional haughty remark, a tilt of her chin that reminded everyone she was still royalty, no matter how much dirt now stained her boots. But she was different, and everyone could see it.

Elliot saw it most of all.

They had been dancing around whatever it was between them for weeks now, the tension thick enough to suffocate them both. It was in the way they argued—quick, sharp exchanges that ended with them both looking away, heat rising to their faces. It was in the way they moved around each other—always too close, always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

And it was in the way they looked at each other when they thought no one else was watching.

Elliot told himself he was imagining things. That the princess could never actually want him. But then there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when her gaze would flicker to his lips, when her breath would hitch if he moved too close. Moments when the air between them felt charged, like a summer storm waiting to break.

Today, that storm finally broke.

It happened in the stables, late in the evening. The sky had turned a deep blue, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows across the ranch. The other stablehands had long since retired for the night, but Dimaria had stayed behind, brushing Midnight’s coat with slow, careful strokes. Elliot watched her from where he leaned against the stall door, arms crossed.

"You gonna keep pampering that horse all night?" he drawled.

Dimaria shot him a look. "Midnight deserves the best. Not that you’d understand."

Elliot smirked. "Oh, I understand just fine. I just think you’re lookin’ for excuses to stay here."

Dimaria huffed, rolling her eyes, but didn’t respond. She kept brushing, though her movements had slowed.

Elliot stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Midnight flicked her ears but remained calm. Dimaria, on the other hand, stiffened as he came to stand behind her.

"Something on your mind, Princess?" he asked, his voice quieter now, rougher.

Dimaria turned, intending to give him some sharp retort, but the words died in her throat when she found herself closer to him than she realized. His blue eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time, she couldn’t look away.

She swallowed. "You’re standing too close."

Elliot didn’t move. "Am I?"

Her heart was pounding. She hated that he had this effect on her. Hated that he could make her feel like this with just a look.

"Yes," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Elliot tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering down to her lips. "Then tell me to move."

Dimaria’s breath caught. She should. She should tell him to step back, to leave, to pretend that nothing had been building between them for weeks now.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stayed perfectly still as he reached out, his fingers brushing against her jaw, tilting her face up to his.

The tension between them snapped.

Elliot kissed her, and it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. It was raw, demanding, filled with weeks of pent-up frustration and unspoken words. Dimaria gasped against his lips, her hands gripping the front of his shirt before she even realized she had moved.

Elliot pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist, pressing her against him like he had been waiting forever for this moment. And maybe he had. Maybe they both had.

Dimaria kissed him back just as fiercely, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. She had never felt anything like this before—this heat, this urgency, this overwhelming need to be closer to him.

Elliot groaned, deep and low, as he pushed her back against the stall door, his hands gripping her hips. He kissed her like he wanted to own her, like he wanted to mark her in a way that had nothing to do with titles or status.

And Dimaria let him.

Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t a princess. She wasn’t the daughter of an emperor. She wasn’t the spoiled noblewoman who had once looked down on the people around her.

She was just Dimaria. And he was just Elliot. And this—whatever this was—felt real.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Elliot rested his forehead against hers.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

Dimaria’s fingers tightened in his shirt. "I don’t want you to."

Elliot exhaled sharply, like he had been holding his breath. He cupped her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

"You’re gonna be the death of me, Princess," he muttered.

Dimaria smirked, though her heart was still racing. "Then I guess we’re even."

The kiss deepened, the air between them thick with heat and urgency. Her fingers curled into Elliot’s shirt, holding onto him like she would fall if she let go. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the feeling of his solid, strong body against hers sent a dizzying rush through her.

She had never done this before.

Never been kissed, never touched like this, never had a man’s hands roaming her body with such need. And yet, it didn’t feel foreign or wrong—it felt natural, like something she had been waiting for all her life without even knowing it.

Her mind screamed at her to stop. This was improper, scandalous. She was a princess. She wasn’t supposed to be pressed up against a stable door, making out with a stable master like a common farm girl. If anyone saw them, her reputation would be in ruins. No nobleman would ever take her as a wife. The thought should have terrified her.

But it didn’t.

Because in this moment, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about noblemen, about courtly etiquette, about the life she had left behind. All she cared about was the way Elliot’s hands felt on her, the way his lips moved against hers, the way his breath hitched when she pulled him closer.

She kissed him harder, more desperately, as if she could lose herself in him completely. And maybe she wanted to. Maybe she wanted to forget that she was Dimaria of the Lily House, daughter of an emperor. Maybe she wanted to forget that she had spent so much of her life in bitterness and resentment, only to end up here, with a man who had never once bowed to her, never once treated her as anything but an equal.

Elliot groaned against her lips, one hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her blonde curls. She gasped at the sensation, the warmth pooling in her stomach, the heat building between them. His touch was rough, calloused from years of hard work, but gentle where it mattered, like he was afraid of breaking her.

But she didn’t want him to be gentle.

She wanted him to take her, claim her, show her what it meant to be kissed by a man who didn’t see her as a prize to be won or a political pawn to be moved.

Elliot seemed to sense it, the way her body pressed against his, the way her fingers trembled against his chest. His hands skimmed down her back, over the curve of her hips, gripping her just enough to make her gasp. She felt like she was burning from the inside out, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

But just when she thought she might drown in it, Elliot suddenly pulled back.

Dimaria let out a small whimper of protest before she could stop herself, blinking up at him in confusion. His breathing was ragged, his blue eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name. He still held her, his hands firm on her waist, but he was looking at her like he was trying to regain control of himself.

He swallowed hard. "We need to stop."

Dimaria’s heart pounded in her chest, her lips still tingling from his kiss. "Why?" The word slipped out before she could stop it, her voice breathless.

Elliot exhaled sharply, like he was struggling to hold himself back. "Because if we don’t stop now, I don’t think I’ll be able to later."

Dimaria’s stomach flipped at his words, at the raw honesty in his voice. He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hands still held her. And she wanted him too, more than she had ever wanted anything.

But Elliot was right. If they didn’t stop now, there would be no turning back.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening for just a second before he gently—too gently—set her away from him. "And I’m not about to take you in a damn stable," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Dimaria’s cheeks flushed as the weight of what had just happened crashed over her. She had just thrown herself at a man in a stable, losing every ounce of composure and dignity she had ever been taught to maintain. She had kissed him like her life depended on it, had let him touch her in a way no man ever had. And she had wanted more.

She turned her face away, trying to regain some semblance of control, but her body still ached with need, her lips swollen from his kisses.

Elliot stepped back, running a hand through his already tousled hair, trying to calm his breathing. "Damn, Princess," he muttered under his breath.

Dimaria swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. "You—you kissed me too," she pointed out, though her voice was shakier than she would have liked.

Elliot let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." His gaze met hers again, and something in his expression softened. "And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But not like that. Not here."

Dimaria frowned, her pride prickling. "You think I regret it?" She lifted her chin. "I don’t."

Elliot smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good. But I still ain’t gonna let things get outta hand just ‘cause you’re caught up in the moment."

Dimaria crossed her arms, irritation flaring. "Caught up in the moment?" she repeated, voice indignant.

Elliot gave her a knowing look. "Yeah. And don’t pretend like you weren’t. You ain’t exactly used to this, are you, Princess?"

Dimaria’s face heated, and she looked away, scowling. "That’s none of your business."

Elliot sighed, stepping forward and tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at him. "Look, I ain’t saying I don’t want you. Hell, I think we both know that’d be a damn lie." His voice was lower now, rougher. "But if this is gonna happen, it ain’t gonna be because you’re just lonely or trying to prove somethin’. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be in a stable where anyone could walk in."

Dimaria’s breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze, at the way his fingers lingered on her skin before he finally—reluctantly—let her go.

The space between them felt too wide now, too cold after the heat of his touch.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "So what now?"

Elliot ran a hand down his face, exhaling. "Now?" He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Now, we go back before your aunt sends a damn search party."

Dimaria stared at him for a long moment before nodding. She turned toward Midnight, but before she could mount, she felt Elliot’s fingers brush against hers—just a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to send a shiver through her.

She glanced at him, but he had already turned away, mounting his own horse.

Without another word, they rode back toward the house, the tension between them heavier than ever.

…

Part Two

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darksturnioloqueen · 2 months ago

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INTRODUCING: Cannibal!Chris

⚠︎ Trigger Warning: talk of cannibalism, factual information, talks of calorie count for human parts, talk of isolation, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, definition of hard vore and vorarephilia, sad song, sad song lyrics, mentions of blood.⚠︎

Cannibal!Chris... Had to resort to cannibalism to stay alive. Feels immense guilt for being alive himself. Struggles to take care of himself. Quiet. Loner. Blames himself for Nick leaving. Walks on eggshells around Matt. Overly self-critical. Overly self-aware. Tends to internalize problems. Self-doubt. Often ruminating on past actions or perceived wrongdoings. Even when the situation might not warrant it. Difficulty forgiving himself. Frequently worried about potential negative consequences of his actions; anxiety. Tension with Matt. He avoids certain situations or Matt because they trigger feelings of guilt.

Food aversion -- causes you to reject a specific food because your brain tells your body it is inedible. It also causes your body to react negatively by feeling nauseous or gagging at the food's sight, scent, or taste.

Cannibal!Chris... developed his food aversions around the age of 15. He spent years 16 and 17 in and out of hospitals trying to diagnose and treat his growing malnutrition. At the age of 17 his doctor prescribed what is known as the raw meat diet. He started the raw meat diet immediately.

The raw meat diet consists of eating only raw animal products, such as raw beef, bison, lamb, and elk. With this diet comes the risk for other illnesses. The all-meat diet, though high in protein, lacks other vital nutrients.

Nutritional deficiencies can include:

Calorie, vitamin B12, and vitamin D deficiencies.

Symptoms of these deficiencies are:

Vitamin B12 deficiency: Symptoms include fatigue, numbness, and trouble walking. Vitamin D deficiency: Symptoms include fatigue, bone pain, and muscle aches. Vitamin deficiency anemia: Symptoms include fatigue, shortness of breath, and dizziness.

Nutritional value of human flesh compared to other animals: A pound of human meat contains about 650 calories, while a pound of wild boar or beaver meat contains about 1,800 calories.

Why human flesh is not a good food source. Humans are not very big animals, so they are not an efficient food source compared to other animals. Chris' body rejects everything. Preying on other humans is riskier than hunting animals, Mortician!Matt to the rescue. Cannibal!Chris doesn't know what to do for a long-term food strategy other than cannibalism.

Cannibalism can be an uncontrollable addiction that makes him seem dangerous.

Cannibalism makes him feel different and causes him to feel rejected by society.

Most cannibals are not psychotic. They very well know what they are doing. He feels extreme guilt for having to eat human body parts. This has caused him to self-seclude. For fear of anyone finding out, he cut ties with all his old friends. The only people who know about his cannibalism are his brothers. Nick, utterly disgusted, left him and Matt behind. Matt, wanting to support Chris, got a job as a mortician until they can find out a better solution.

Eating a victim ensures that he is never alone. He has the victims with him at all times. They can never leave. Chris is haunted every day by his sickness. He would rather wither away to nothing than eat another human again.

Then he meets her.

When "cannibalism as love" is used metaphorically, it refers to the idea that love can be so consuming and all-encompassing that it feels like being "eaten" by the other person. Completely losing oneself in the intensity of the relationship, often signifying a deep, passionate, and potentially destructive form of love where one person feels wholly absorbed by the other; essentially, a willingness to be "devoured" by the object of their affection, even if it implies a loss of individuality.

Hard vore is a sexual fantasy of cannibalism or the erotic desire to consume another person or animal. It's a type of paraphilia, or abnormal sexual interest, known as vorarephilia. Cannibal!Chris does NOT have Hard Vore.

Vorarephilia (often shortened to vore) is characterized by the erotic desire to be consumed by, or to consume personally, another person or creature, or an erotic attraction to the process of eating in general practice.

"And all of this will make sense when I get better But I know the difference Between myself and my reflection I just can't help but to wonder Which of us do you love?

So I bleed I bleed And I breathe I breathe no more"

#cannibal!chris ⚠︎#cannibal!chris x dior ⚠︎#cannibal!chris x mortician!matt ⚠︎#the dark queen characters ⚠︎#the dark queen character intro ⚠︎#the dark sturniolo queen ⚠︎#the dark sturniolo tumblr ⚠︎#mortician!matt ⚠︎

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manorpunk · 5 months ago

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To Seize and Hold - Act II

Distracting myself from election scrolling.

+++++

Jacob Martin Rider is modeled after a very particular type of guy, a type of guy who is intimately familiar to grand strategy gamers, central European history buffs, and anyone else who knows what a ‘Hussar’ is. That type of guy is the cavalry dandy.

The cavalry dandy is a grizzled, battle-tested, hard-drinking killer, a 17th century Rambo who charges into the nearest fight before he even knows who’s at war. The cavalry dandy is also a vainglorious fop obsessed with preening and fancy clothes. He is a perfect example of how changing and nebulous something like ‘masculinity’ is: the military is supposed to be the domain of masculine manly men, hard-eyed killers fighting other hard-eyed killers, but it is also a place of elaborate ritual, fancy uniforms with braids and sashes, dance-like ceremonies of precision movements, even those big dumb Air Force swords. Martial culture is the epitome of homiesexual. Or, to put it in Jacob’s words:

“If you want success on the battlefield, you need a fag. Alexander the Great? Huge fag. Frederick the Great? Huge fag. Napoleon? He’s French, so it’s complicated.”

But seriously, who the hell is this Jacob Martin Rider guy? Here’s what has been pieced together from a combination of primary sources, interviews, and good old-fashioned rumor, as will be revealed throughout the story:

Back in the day, JMR was a self-defense instructor who worked with queer groups, training people in martial arts and shooting. By 205X, when the remnants of America were bogged down in multiple wars with massive fronts, Jacob gathered his former students and lovers together into a small army and offered his services to the New US Army. He was hastily given the rank of Major by general Tony Poolsupplies and stationed in the northern Michigan front of the Quebec War.

Tony had little faith or trust in Jacob, however, calling him a “dollar-store Napoleon,” and he plunked Jacob down at a quiet outpost along Michigan’s coastline and refused to give him any orders. Jacob, meanwhile, privately referred to Tony as a “McClellan-ass bitch” and accused him of deliberately prolonging the war to get kickbacks from arms manufacturers.

Despite being roadblocked by his superiors, Jacob worked tirelessly on scouting, surveying, and reconnaissance, and noticed what appeared to be a contingent of the Imperial Quebecois Army preparing to reorganize by transporting reinforcements across Lake Huron in unarmed and unarmored ships. He recognized the opportunity for a rapid attack that could isolate and scatter the opposing army, potentially winning the war in one fell swoop. When Poolsupplies left him on read, Jacob decided to go ahead with the attack anyway. The Battle of Lake Huron was a resounding success for the Great Lakes Republic, and his use of small-arms drones for screening has arguably been influential in the development of mid-21st century drone tactics.

Despite his success, Jacob was immediately stripped of his rank and put on trial for disobeying orders, or lack thereof, and launching an independent offensive. And also for a lot of procurement fraud, that’s how he got rich but everyone forgets about that part.

Fast-forward, and enter Sunny Roosevelt. She thinks that JMR would make a perfect candidate for her defense advisor - talented and experienced enough to be useful, and crazy enough that she could always find a reason to drop him like last season’s merch. There’s the perfect opportunity to test him, too. Northern Michigan looks like it’ll be crawling with right-wing forest militias - again, sigh - so he can start off by getting a lay of the land and drawing up some contingency plans. What Sunny does not know is that there’s nothing Jacob loves more than strolling into a small town and pissing everyone off with his public flamboyance.

It does not take long for Jacob and Liam to both capture each other’s interest. The attempts by Liam’s father to keep the two of them apart other only gives it the sweet, sweet allure of ~*~forbidden love~*~. After Jacob saves Liam from being cornered by Byron Weber (one of Remington’s large adult sons), Liam enthusiastically agrees to be whisked away from his hometown to live at Jacob’s mansion.

And what a life it is! Peace and luxury, no need to work, and he can finally get in touch with the side of him that he’d had to keep hidden for all his life. Things slow down a bit as we take some time to develop the relationship, reveal Jacob’s backstory, adjust to the new routine, and have lots of gratuitous sex scenes. The fun and games before we raise the stakes and have the big midpoint moment, to put it in plotting terms.

Liam gets to know the new cast of characters, including a trio of maids who seem to share a special, as-yet-undisclosed relationship with Jacob:

Anton Smolenski, from Moldova. Short and somehow has naturally pink hair. He is the stern and serious one of the trio, perpetually scowling with his hands on his hips or his arms crossed.

Brandi Hyde, from Tidewater. Tall, gaunt, and stooping with long blonde hair, facial scars, and a wide, unsettling grin. The creepy one of the trio, fond of eye shadow, knives, and giggling slowly.

Ismai’l “Izzy” al-Iskander, from Balochistan. The suspiciously sweet one, with sleepy eyes, perpetually tousled hair, and a fidgety smile.

Still, it’s not long before a sense of unease starts to nag at Liam, although everyone else assures him that it must be him shaking off the results of his upbringing. For instance, he gets some odd looks for practicing Founderism - the fun new Christian heresy where the Founding Fathers are worshipped as saint-demigods. It’s not just Liam’s upbringing, though, it’s also his knowledge that he won’t be able to stay here forever - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. He wants to keep a sense of independence, the knowledge that he’d be okay if he ever had to leave, but he quickly learns that it won’t be easy. First, he’ll need to get his future-GED to qualify for citizenship. Classes are all online, and he tries to find a study group or a way to meet with other students, but other people tell him shit like “oh yeah if you have a Buck.it account you can sign in through Toastr. Do you have Bip? You need Bip.”

Liam continues to play Aivrcade, but one day when he signs in, he’s suddenly locked into a private server that he’s never heard of before. When it loads, he’s in a room with Sunny Roosevelt. She is distinctly not cute and bubbly. In fact, she’s dressed like a mob boss, with a red suit and large shades. She tells Liam that Jacob’s been talking about him - not a lot, but she picks up on these sorts of things. Jacob seems to like him. A lot. And that’s a very useful bit of information. Especially since Sunny needs someone to keep an eye on Jacob. Hint hint.

Liam objects - after all, he hasn’t exactly been trained in espionage. How could he pull this off?

Don’t worry, Sunny says, you grew up queer in a small town, so you obviously have some practice with hiding things. Besides, there’s a lot of money in it for you if you say yes. You’re trying to be independent, right? Don’t look so surprised, of course I knew that, I’m Sunny. With the money I can give you, you’ll be set for life without a sugar daddy.

Liam asks if he has to go along with this or if he can say no.

That’s a very good question, Sunny says. Can you say no to me? I suppose there’s only one way to find out. If you really want to know the answer that badly. :)

Liam says yes, and Sunny gives him the password for the private server he can use to contact her to give her all the juicy details.

As a result, Liam starts to look at Jacob differently, the things he says and does and what they mean. He listens in on Jacob’s conversations, and

Turns out the maid trio have been with Jacob since the Battle of Port Huron - they look much younger than they are thanks to future-drugs. Anton thinks Jacob has been going soft and has been privately goading him to get back to his roots. What happened to the old Jacob, the one who trained people, taught them how to protect themselves? Goddammit, it’s time to bring back the Battletwinks. Anton is like a foil to Liam’s desire for self-reliance and autonomy, taking it in a more aggressive direction - “autonomy means forcibly carving out a niche for yourself and remaining vigilant in a cruel world.”

I notice now that this is a bit messy - I mean obviously, it's an outline, and it's the middle parts, it's the different threads that will have to be bound together very carefully. Setting up the dominoes to have a satisfying payoff.

#to seize and hold #jacob martin rider #sunny roosevelt #liam hessian

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weekendpassrevoked · 5 months ago

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Easy's Songbird - Chapter 3

Orlando, Florida, February, 1942

Her family was obviously not very happy with her when she returned home that afternoon, uniform in hand. In fact, her mother didn’t speak to her for a week after how upset she was. She started speaking with her after they dropped Lucas and Cameron off at the train station and she sensed how upset Isabella was.

The worker had been skeptical about receiving her information when she signed up. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to, considering she was still 16, but after confirming her birth date, she was allowed to continue the process.

Isabella didn’t feel excited, more queasy than anything. Her gut was telling her something was going to happen and she just didn’t know what.

It was on February 24th, her 17th birthday, did she finally figure out what it was.

She had come home from school, exhausted. She had been restless recently. Nerves finally getting to her. When she walked into the dining room, she found her parents and Maya around the table, unreadable expressions on their faces.

Uneased, she finally broke the silence.

“So, is everything okay or are yall going to leave me in the dark?”

Surprisingly, it had been Maya to finally answer her.

“いさ, すわて”

She felt fear crawl up her throat, was it Michel? Had something happened to Lucas or Cameron?

Her father spoke up, voice tense. “Te llegó una carta en el correo.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, a letter in the mail for her wasn’t anything unusual. So what the hell were they playing at?

Taking the letter from her father, she finally understood why.

“ United States War DepartmentWashington, D.C.February 15th, 1942

Miss Isabella M. VegaOrlando, Florida

Subject: Assignment to Special Project "Blitz"

Miss Vega,

After careful review of your familial background, language qualifications, and exemplary educational record, it is my duty to inform you that you have been selected for participation in a newly-formed initiative, codenamed Project Blitz . This project represents a significant advancement in the United States Army's medical deployment strategy. As part of this experimental program, you will be assigned to a unit of Airborne Infantry , providing medical support to combat soldiers during airborne operations in enemy territory.

The role you are being asked to undertake is unprecedented in military history, and as such, will require exceptional skill, adaptability, and discipline. You will be expected to operate under extreme conditions, often isolated from traditional support structures, and your courage and ability to innovate in the face of adversity will be critical to the success of the program.

You will be attached to the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Easy Company , currently in training for airborne operations. As part of Easy Company, you will parachute into combat zones alongside the infantry, providing direct medical support on the front lines. This assignment is not without risk, but the War Department is confident in your ability to meet the extraordinary demands of this operation.

Your orders are to report to Camp Toccoa, Georgia, no later than March 10th, 1942 , for further briefing and specialized training. You will receive additional details upon arrival.

It is important to note that your assignment to Project Blitz is considered classified . Discussions regarding the nature of your assignment, or the existence of this project, outside of official military channels are strictly prohibited.

The War Department expresses its full confidence in your abilities and looks forward to your contributions to this groundbreaking initiative. Your performance in this role will not only aid in the immediate needs of the war effort but may also pave the way for future generations of women in the military.

Respectfully,Lt. Col. James A. MerrittPersonnel DivisionWar Department

Isabella’s heart pounded, her hands shaking. How the hell had her name made it all the way to D.C?

Her father cleared his throat, looking at her severely as if he was trying to see right through her.

“ Vas a aceptar?”

She gulped, this had been what she had always wanted right? To do something and prove herself? To be just as capable as the men on the front lines?

“ Si.”

That night, she had her birthday cake. For now, she would enjoy her last birthday at home, surrounded by those who cared for her. Her parents had bought her a new guitar strap along with a new journal. Usually, she would just doodle and write new music in her journals, but this time around she decided she would start writing in it once she started her training. Lucas had gotten her more veils for church, while Cameron got her new art supplies. They’d made sure to leave it with her mom before they left. Then, Maya excitedly brought in a box all the way from her room.

“あなたのお兄さんと私は、この誕生日を特別なものにしたいと思いました。あなたが子供たちの面倒をたくさん見てくれたおかげです。私たちはこれを作ってもらい、私の家族の助けを借りて、日本から送ってもらいました。”

Her eyes widened. She carefully received the box from her, placing it gently on the table. She took the lid off, not knowing what to expect. Inside was the most beautiful kimono she had ever seen. The furisode was dark green, with delicate light green flower patterns. The obi pink and green, along with a pink obiage and obijime. It came with a beautiful white juban with the haneri having flower embroidery. But the most beautiful part was the haori; an off-white with sakura and crane patterns.

She felt tears roll down her cheeks, too stunned to speak. How could she even repay them for this?

“Your お兄さん and I had this made for you. There is still much time until you turn 20, but we hope that when you do, you will be able to wear this for the coming of age ceremony. But, who knows? Maybe you will meet some 素敵な兵士 while you are away that will dignify wearing this.” Maya grinned.

Furisode were traditionally only used for very special events, like the coming of age ceremony or weddings. Maybe Maya and Michel hoped she would meet someone soon? Isabella was never romantically adept, especially with how religious she was, Lucas and Cameron being her friends and coincidentally being male was pure luck at its finest.

Isabella doubted she could even take this with her to training, and even if she could, it was unlikely the men training for war against the Germans and Japanese would enjoy seeing their medic dressed in the enemy's traditional clothing, but she would do it for Maya. Maya, her only sister, who had been there with her through thick and thin ever since she met her when she was only a girl.

Yes, Isabella wasn’t ethnically or racially Japanese, but the culture had been a part of her since she was a child and she had grown up with it. Maybe that’s what was most beautiful about the United States, how culturally diverse it is.

She carefully put the lid back on the box and slid from her chair, kneeling with her head touching the ground. She sobbed, “心から感謝いたします.” As she cried, she heard Maya quickly rush up from her chair, flustered, begging her to stand.

As she finally stood, wiping the tears from her eyes, she saw her parents hugging Maya, thanking her all the same. Suddenly, she felt a pang of grief in her heart. Maya said Michel had planned this too. Her brother, who despite being so far and in so much danger, still thought of her and her future. She missed him terribly.

Anzu ran up to her, begging to be carried. She brought a drawing with her, hastily drawn in a way only a child could. She hugged her tight, confused over the strange commotion, but still excited to give her only aunt her birthday gift.

“Isa. I made you this.” Anzu whispered in her ear. “I hope you like it.”

It was the entire family, crudely drawn with love. She smiled through her tears, putting the drawing on the table so as to not ruin it. “Oh my sweet girl. Thank you.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Well Anzi, I have to go somewhere far away for a while.” she sniffled. Anzu tilted her head to the side, wide-eyed.

“Like papa?”

Her heart hurt again, how long had it been since Anzu saw her father?

“Yeah sweetie, like papa.”

Anzu giggled. “You’ll be back, so why are you sad?” She let out a giggle after hearing her innocent reply. “You’re right Anzizi, I won’t be sad anymore.”

“Good!”

The night carried on, tears no longer shed and laughter aplenty. The next day, her family helped her pack for her trip. She put her new uniforms neatly folded in her bag with help from her mother, along with some normal clothes. She took her journal and some stationary with a picture of the whole family, her new veils for mass, her bible and school books to keep her sharp. She decided she would take the kimono by hand, and if they indeed said she couldn’t keep it, then she would mail it back home for safe keeping.

Anzu sat on her bed, watching her pack the last of her things.

“Isa?” asked Anzu.

She hummed in reply, waiting to hear what her niece had to say.

“Why aren’t you taking teddy and tokage with you?”

She giggled. Teddy had been the very first thing she had received in this world. A bear her brother bought for her the day she was born, and she slept with it every night ever since. Tokage, on the other hand, was a stuffed lizard toy Maya had sent her during her last trip to Japan.

“Do you think I should?” she teased.

“Yeah!”

She threw them in her bag too, no loss, no foul right? She’ll mail them back if needed. At least she’ll have something from home to keep her grounded. The men would probably make fun of her for it, but she couldn’t care less.

She zipped up the bag, carefully standing. She still wasn’t used to the pencil skirt the uniform had. She had always worn Michel or the boy's hand-me-downs, or loose dresses and skirts her mom made that allowed her to run around unrestricted. Hell, even her performing clothes were loose. Her favorite was a brown, plaid circle skirt with a fitted black short sleeve blouse made of velvet with white flowers embroidered on the collar and some leather ankle boots that she had worn-in to the bone. She paused, maybe she should take that outfit too, just in case.

As she truly finished packing. She called for her father to help her with the bag. Maya and her mother were waiting at the door for them, Anzu running to hold Maya’s hand while her mother held Taiga. Thankfully, the walk wasn’t too bad, she still wasn’t used to wearing heels and despite the short walk her feet were starting to hurt.

As they arrived at the station, the reality of everything finally hit. This would be the last time she would see her family for a long time. She would miss Taiga’s first words and steps, Anzu’s first day of school, her own high school graduation. Would her parents change too?

As their time together shortened, she tightly hugged her parents.

“I’ll be back soon okay? Lo prometo. ” she strained.

Her father kissed her head, smiling. “I’m so proud of you. Stay out of trouble okay?”

She nodded, “Take good care of the cats, don’t be mean to them while I’m gone. I’ll know when I get back if you were.”

Her father chuckled and pulled away as her mother kissed her cheeks.

“Remember to pray every day, and keep up with school as best you can.”

Isabella honestly didn’t know when she would find time to pray the rosary every day, hell, if she would even have time to study. But she would try for her mama.

She kneeled down to Anzu’s height, brushing her dark hair from her face.

“Alright Anzizi, you’re gonna have to be a big girl when I’m gone okay? Make sure to help your mama and あぶじ”

The girl nodded, fiercely determined.

“I promise!”

Isabella grinned and ruffled her hair.

“Atta girl!”

She stood, facing Maya and Taiga.

“You’ll be okay right?”

Out of everyone Isabella was most worried for, it was Maya. Attacks on Japanese people were getting more and more frequent, and without her there she was afraid the worst would come true.

Maya nodded and smiled, grabbing her hand.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Isabella leans over and kisses Taiga’s head.

“I’ll be back Taiga, be good.”

She turns back toward the train and boards. She feels tears begin to form as she sits down and looks out the window to her family. She scans over their faces, trying her hardest to commit them to memory. Who knows when she will return.

The train begins to move, box in her lap, and she feels like the world is slipping out from under her. This was it. She places her hand on the window as she moves further away, and she sees her father run alongside it, yelling, trying his hardest to see her till the very end. The platform ends and she sees the devastated expression on his face. Her tears roll freely when she finally hears him.

“ I love you!”

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

Chapter Translations

“いさ, すわて” (Isa, sit down)

“Te llegó una carta en el correo.” (You received a letter in the mail)

“Vas a aceptar?” (Will you accept?)

"Si" (Yes)

“あなたのお兄さんと私は、この誕生日を特別なものにしたいと思いました。あなたが子供たちの面倒をたくさん見てくれたおかげです。私たちはこれを作ってもらい、私の家族の助けを借りて、日本から送ってもらいました。” (Your brother and I wanted to make this birthday memorable since you've helped us so much with the kids. We had this made and sent all the way from Japan with help from my family.

"お兄さん" (Big brother)

"素敵な兵士" (Handsome soldier)

“心から感謝いたします.” (I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart)

"Lo prometo" (I promise)

"あぶじ” (Mix between あぶ and じじ, personal loving term for grandmother)

#fics #easy's songbird #band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic

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thehistoryprincesse · 10 months ago

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𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝐼𝓈𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒾𝒶 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝒶, 𝒟𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓃

Happy pride month everyone!! This month I will be trying to touch on some of my favorite queer icons in history. :)

Maria Christina Johanna Josepha Antonia was born on 13 May, 1742, the fifth daughter of Maria Theresa of Austria and Francis I, Holy Roman Empire, and elder sister to Marie Antoinette. Maria was deemed to be her mothers favorite child, which shows obvious in the letters between the two. This favoritism sparked much jealousy in her siblings, teasing and critizing her heavily, this favoritism, of course came with many upsides. She received a stupendous education and was regarded as perfectly speaking french, italian, and english, aswell as being an exceptional painter. But as a mothers favoritism often does, it isolated Maria greatly, which although having fell in love with multiple men in her life, none of the matches were quite supported by her mother.

Isabel of Parma on the other hand, did not have much love with her mother, Isabella of Bourbon-Parma was born on 31 December, 1741, to Philip, Duke of Parma, and Louise Elisabeth of France, the eldest daughter of Louis XV and Marie Leszczyńska. At a young age Isabel was recorded to have threw violent tantrums frequently, which in turn her mother Elisabeth disciplined the girl so severely that isabel’s paternal grandmother Queen Elisabeth Farnese of Spain (de facto), compared the discipline to a military drill, (although Queen Elisabeth was recorded as to promoting this discipline.), soon enough their relationship grew so stressed that Isabel’s mother regarded the young girl as stubborn and unbearable to raise. Isabel after being dropped into the hands of her governess and forgotten about by her mother, quickly turned to mischief and curiousity, being recorded to play all day and night with no break, isabel writing, 'My head was always in the clouds, occupying itself with a hundred thousand ideas at once'.

Due to the influences of Madame de Pompadour, Louis XV and Maria Theresa of Austria came together to strengthen and ally the houses of bourbon, and that of the habsburg. In this alliance resulted many marriages, one of them being of Isabel of Parma, (a bourbon princesse) and Joseph II, Archduke of Austria, and the elder brother to Maria Christina. Her marriage with Joseph seemed to be impartial, he was recorded to have been taken by love (although he wasn’t really sure how to show it) with his new bourbon wife, but it seemed this love was awfully one sided, Isabel having had no opinion on her new husband.

During this period of time, Isabel was said to have grown majorly depressed and borderline suicidal. In a letter to Marie Christine saying; ‘What should the daughter of a great prince expect? Her fate is unquestionably most unhappy. Born the slave of the people’s prejudices, she finds herself subjected to this weight of honours, these innumerable etiquettes attached to greatness… In the end the effort is made to establish her. There she is condemned to abandon everything, her family, her country–and for whom? For an unknown person, whose character and manner of thinking she does not know… sacrifice to a supposed public good, but in fact rather to the wretched policy of a minister who can find no other way for the two dynasties to form an alliance which he pronounces indissoluble–and which, immediately it seems advantageous, is broken off…’

By the Isabel reached the age of twenty she was extremely successful in most everything she did, she continued her education, helped her husbands military strategies, and was said to have painted and decorated many rooms in the schobrunn palace, many of which are still on display today.

In the midst of her life in Vienna, it was obvious that Isabel and Maria had grown awfully close, many letters survive today of their close bond with eachother, clearly showing how Isabel had taken a liking to her husbands sister, instead of him.

“The confusion which reigns in a certain drawer which lives in my room, where are to be found together and without rhyme or reason a political tract, a pile of letters, a comic opera, a vaudeville, a treatise on education, a clavier part, some moral reflections. A sermon jostles a treatise on all types of foolishness, prayers are mixed up in a paper devoted to declaring my love to you, letters from the emperor muddle up with letters of a hundred persons who are indifferent to me, and with those letters which are so dear to me and constitute the sweetness of my life.”

Unfortunately, apart from one responding letter to Isabel, none of Maria’s correspondence to her sister-in-law survived. But it is clear that at some point, Maria had either fallen out with Isabel, or confessed to her that they could no longer continue their rendezvous, this is made clear in a very passionate letter Isabel had written.

“I am writing you again, cruel sister, though I have only just left you. I cannot bear waiting to know my fate, and to learn whether you consider me a person worthy of your love, or whether you would like to throw me into the river…. I can think of nothing but that I am deeply in love. If I only knew why this is so, for you are so without mercy that one should not love you, but I cannot help myself.”

Sadly, shortly after making this letter, Isabel passed away at the age of 21 due to smallpox, aware that she was bound to pass soon, Isabel wrote one last letter to her dear Maria. Advising her on how to navigate and survive the court of Vienna, and how to convince her mother on a marriage.

Clearly, Maria took his letter with utmost sincerity, as after after mourning for much much longer then required, Maria had convinced her mother on a marriage, ending up being the only daughter of Maria Theresa to marry for love, instead of convenience. That suitor being the Prince Albert of Saxony, a man with no fortune or inheritance.

#pride month #queer #history #lesbian #queer history

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amelikos · 1 year ago

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Some character notes and episode notes for HZ044, writing them down for future reference.

Friede went to check the strange tower on the isolated island, and he eventually saw Spinel and his Pokemon there. He goes back to the ship and calls for a meeting. Different from how he reacted in HZ014 when he followed Spinel's Rarecoil and fell in his trap (and didn't mention it to the crew afterwards). This time, he is sharing all the information he has instead of rushing directly into things.

Back on the ship, Friede shows the footage he got and Liko recognizes Spinel as the one who stole her pendant and mentions that Sango (she used her name) said they were going to summon Rayquaza, so Friede assumes they actually have a way to do it (maybe by using a machine or something). Dot offers to make a shutdown program that works on any machine and mentions that she cannot forgive "that guy" (referring to Spinel). Liked that they still included their kind of rivalry, given that Spinel's introduction arc overlapped with Dot coming out of her room and getting Kuwassu as a partner. Dot got tricked multiple times by Spinel, and she wants to be involved this time too, because it's personal for her.

Friede suggests using a boat to get to the island because going by ship or on Lizardon would immediately give him away. Liko and Roy want to tag along as well. Friede is about to refuse because it's dangerous but doesn't finish his sentence once he sees how determined they both look and eventually accepts. I really like that they keep emphasizing that things are dangerous, makes things feel grounded.

Liko and Roy eventually go to the island and go through a forest to get to the tower, along with Friede and Landau. There are wild Pokemon who don't seem used to humans and they try not to stand out by not making any noise. Eventually they get to the tower and Friede warns Liko and Roy to be careful. The door was open, which makes Friede suspect something is wrong but he still goes inside and ends up being locked there. Friede tells Liko and Roy that they should go ahead without him. Liko and Roy are both worried but Landau tells them to believe in Friede and continue onwards. Liko takes a deep breath to regain her composure and they all decide to look for where Rayquaza might appear. Love the small moments with Liko being worried and her just taking a moment to breathe to calm herself down, it feels real.

Spinel and Friede get to interact face to face for the first time. Friede recognized his voice and referred to him by the words he used back in HZ014, and Spinel calls him by his name and professor status. Spinel revealed that the place was built just to imprison Friede. I just like the implications that he did all of that just to trap Friede and isolate him from the others and that he was going to wait for him there, which implies that he acknowledges him as a threat and wants to delay him. Love how cunning Spinel is in general, his strategies involve some kind of deception and distraction, isolating his opponents and luring them away, which he did with both Friede and Liko in HZ014.

Somewhere else, Sango is skeptical and asks Agate if their plan will really attract Rayquaza. She also wonders where Amethio is and calls him "bocchan" (very important lore, thank you Sango for the casual reveal). Agate says that they'll execute the plan without him and that it was Spinel's idea. Sango says it's a shame he's missing out and adds that Spinel hates Amethio. Onyx tells her to stop blabbering and to get back in position, which annoys Sango but she does it anyway. Onyx shakes her head at her www He really has to put up with a lot with her (but he still cares).

As an aside, Sango's words about Spinel hating Amethio were interesting... I wonder how much of that is true. Spinel usually keeps a lot of information to himself, so the fact that his supposed dislike for Amethio was so apparent that even Sango saw it? Maybe he doesn't care about hiding it, maybe he can't hide it because Amethio irritates him that much? Maybe he feels like that because Amethio is too honest and straightforward in his approach, which is very different from how Spinel acts? I think that for someone like Spinel, being anything else than "indifferent" towards someone is a feat, so Amethio is "special" on some level... (Spinel finds very few people "fascinating" so far, we know Liko being the key to something had him intrigued, and he's also interested in Friede) He did keep up with Amethio's training and observed it back in HZ034, and last time they both interacted, Amethio did agree with Spinel in HZ027... So I wonder what's up with Spinel potentially hating Amethio, and why he may feel that way in the first place.

Back in the tower, Spinel talks about the device he made. Basically a resonance generator which recreates the energy Terapagos emits when calling to Rayquaza. Friede wonders if the Explorers can beat Rayquaza, to which Spinel says that three skilled Explorers are on the job, so they might be able to do something. Friede says that Spinel didn't strike him as the type to rely on others, but Spinel says he is just using them. Very good banter and back and forth here, I love how we get a view of how Friede considers Spinel and how methodical and calculating Spinel is too.

Friede and Spinel are about to battle, when Friede realizes he can't use Lizardon in that confined space (which is also why Spinel lured him there). He decides to send Cap to battle, and Spinel wonders if he is being underestimated (just like Amethio back in HZ002, and Friede remembered Amethio said the same thing). Blacky going full out in battle was great to see, and Spinel's battle style was interesting! Blacky knowing Reflect (a move reducing damage) says a lot about Spinel's relationship with his Pokemon too. We got a small exchange between Friede and Cap during the battle, when Cap shows him the small crack made on the and lets him know they should use this to escape.

Back to Liko and Roy, they are looking for the Explorers and Terapagos reacts to something. They can all feel Rayquaza is about to appear and it does eventually happen. (The BGM used between 12:10 and 12:20 was great and I hope it ends up in the OST if there is ever one)

Nanjamo was shown briefly livestreaming, so I wonder if she'll catch footage of Rayquaza.. Liko, Roy and Landau head to where Rayquaza is, while the Explorers start attacking him. Rayquaza was shown reacting to the sound similar to Terapagos and it felt like he stopped an attack after hearing it, I feel like this showed Rayquaza's soft side in a way? Rayquaza appeared after hearing "Terapagos" calling out to him and stopped whatever he was about to do upon hearing that sound again, so he is definitely not indifferent to Terapagos's cries.

Meanwhile, Dot announces that she finished the shutdown program but needs to get close to the device to activate it. She seems hesitant at first, and Murdock suggests doing it instead of her because he is worried about her being in danger. However, Dot says she will do it because Liko and Roy are fighting too and she is inspired to do the same to be on the same level as them. While Murdock is still worried, he is both proud and supportive of her wishes and says he'll lead her there. (Dot really grew to appreciate her friends and is pushed to act, be braver, and go out of her comfort zone thanks to them. Her development these past episodes has been great to witness.)

Back to Friede vs Spinel, they keep battling and Friede eventually manages to use Spinel's moves against him and break the wall to run away. Their VAs were really good in that scene btw (loved the way Spinel said いかさま whenever he ordered that move, and the way Friede said "sorry, I broke the place~" was a bit too much... weirdly teasy-sounding too in a way, which I loved.. Makoto Furukawa and Yashiro Taku are just great fits for their characters and their acting elevates literally any scene they are in). Either way, Friede leaves and Spinel considers him interesting now and wants to play with him some more~ So he potentially got himself a new obsession and wants to know more about Friede. I hope their dynamics will be expanded upon in the future because they are intriguing (and quite similar in some ways? Given that they both enjoy researching in some ways).

Two other things I loved was the non-conclusive aspect of the battle and Blacky's reaction. I love that HZ keeps showing non-conclusive battles because they tell a kind of story too, and that Friede doesn't finish battles if he doesn't need to. The context of each battle he takes part in is always very different (which is why it's interesting when he does engage Amethio in battle and gets into them a lot, but that's another story), and the story doesn't force battles to keep going for the sake of it. It's not cowardly to prioritize other things and HZ shows that the protag and hero side can run away. Running away or using distractions aren't only things antagonists or enemies do, and there is no moral judgement made about it, which I honestly appreciate.

Blacky's reaction was also interesting because as Friede and Cap left, I think she was growling? Which potentially shows that she may have wanted to finish the battle and knew she had the upper hand (darkness being her element too, being trapped in there was convenient) and was confident about her skills. Yet, back in HZ016, Blacky immediately wanted to back off once Oliva came out so she knew about the potential danger then. I think it shows Blacky doesn't overestimate her abilities (backing away from a confrontation that might be too dangerous, and knowing when things are in her and Spinel's favor).

Back to Rayquaza, Liko and Roy do what they can to stop the Explorers. Roy thought of using Stomping Tantrum to make Agate lose her balance (quick thinking on his part!), and called Kaiden to repel Agate's Ultra Ball. (I hope we see Kaiden more in chapter 3 because his appearance here was short and quick)

Dot eventually jumps into the scene in her Gurumin costume and manages to disable the device by connecting her Rotom Phone to it, thanks to Kuwassu and Kanuchan's help. That's the first victory Dot had against Spinel in a way, since she could interfere with his plan somehow (I do hope there is more to their rivalry in the future, still). Kanuchan eventually starts crying since the whole situation was scary for her, so Dot comforts her and calls her back to her Pokeball. Liko and Roy praise Dot for her feat, so Dot hides her face with her again before accepting their compliments. (It was cute. She clearly was happy about their words but she was still a bit embarassed.)

Eventually, Rayquaza breaks free from the ice and salt crystals. Agate starts getting visibly worried (I liked seeing another side of her since she is usually so composed and seems like the most levelheaded of the Explorers compared to the others.. she also got worried for Sango later on). Rayquaza launches Draco Meteor which hits a bunch of stuff in the area. Sango snaps and charges towards Rayquaza to use Self-Destruct (I love her battle style and how unhinged she is). The move manages to hurt Rayquaza and sends him crashing into the Brave Asagi. While Orio, Murdock, Mollie and the other Pokemon are still on the ship. Liko and the others are horrified. (Friede's expression, particularly, was good at the end.)

Anyway, great episode! I missed Kureha Matsuzawa's writing (last ep he wrote was HZ032 with Lapras joining Liko and the others, and Lucius flashback).

#hz044 #character notes #episode notes

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fiasco-of-freyglen · 8 months ago

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realizing my last question might have made no sense (the back in black one) What I was trying to get at with the point about showing up late, did that effect the choices since Fiasco was by himself and couldn't bounce ideas off his party members?

I think fiasco frequently convinces himself that he’s totally alone in his own head (as opposed to other ardowin PCs of mine), and really does a lot of his decision making without the advice of the party. You may have noticed that fiasco will occasionally fully make a decision for the group and not really wait for an objection (for example, the decision to go to the archon library immediately after the gildhart raid, rather than going after Valentina, which conveniently worked out to be in the same place).

Because of the two days of isolation, fiasco made a lot of choices that he’ll have to deal with on his own (he believes, he’s wrong). In regards to Alithea, the choice not to immediately not give her sparrows letter was more of a decision for alithea’s health instead of actual strategy. Fiasco has no idea what the letter says, and by the last time sparrow was upfront and honest about what she is, he didn’t want to risk an emotional moment possibly being further detriment to alithea’s health.

#fiasco #ardowin hoe #ardowin: hell on earth #sharing my secrets #the bane train #Alithea Gildhart

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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I have a question. How would Emma and lexi take care of their men after last night ? They clearly were very upset during the media scrum.

Ooooo they were sad weren’t they 🥺

Emma will defer to Timo for what he needs. They are great communicators. But also Timo played half of his career without her or any partner, so he knows what best he needs after difficult nights. Emma will usually curl up to him wherever he lands. Sometimes he wants to watch tv. Sometimes he wants to go to bed right away. Other times he wants to bend her over the back of the couch and take his frustration out on her. That’s her favorite 😍 But Emma is never far from Timo. On the rare occasions he wants to talk, Emma will listen and validate where needed. Mostly though, she knows he wants to vent and will offer a safe space for him to do that.

Our sweet Lexi gets as sad as Nico after those nights. She hates when Nico is sad and immediately wants to fix it for him. Nico tells her all the time, there is nothing she can do. But as a captain’s wife, she feels the burden of the team on her shoulders too. Lexi likes to make Nico a comforting snack and crack open a beer with him on the couch. Nico likes to talk after the game, sometimes they will be up well after 1 am discussing every little detail. Lexi researched hockey rules and strategy online and through books so she could offer insight and provide feedback. Nico loves that about her. How she dives right into his work and passion with both feet. Before her, Nico would feel so alone and isolated after rough games. But now he has her holding his hand on the couch, assuring him the team will work through their struggles with his steady leadership.

#tm: loving & leaving #what my world spins around au

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stillthewc · 8 months ago

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DISVENTURE CAMP ALL-STARS: FINAL FIVE PLACEMENT PREDICTION

With Episode 16 wrapped up and the thirteenth contestant eliminated from All Stars, I wanted to take a quick second to post my placement predictions for the rest of the current cast. I'll do my best to explain my reasoning for each person, and will add a "read more" in order not to immediately spoil anyone. With that out of the way, let's get started!

5. RIYA

While I was horribly wrong about my previous prediction of Riya going home last episode (rip Alec), I'm about 95% sure she's going home next, assuming the person in fourth place doesn't usurp this placement for her. Riya's arc this season has very much been about trying to maintain her "villain" branding while pushing away someone who still believed in her, and this episode's left enough breadcrumbs to have me thinking it'll officially wrap up soon:

With Alec being disposed of, and Grett having zero loyalty towards the villains anymore, Riya's essentially all alone voting-wise (outside of maybe Ally, but she seems more obsessed with getting Jake out than legitimately working alongside her at this point). This makes me think Riya will realize how isolated she made herself, and see how flawed her pursuit of "villainy" truly is.

This episode's opening and closing set pieces heavily emphasize how corrupted Riya's become, with her selfishly asking for a perfume bottle back he apparently gave her as a gift (not sure of the full context of this since this is my first DC season, but obviously it was a show of goodwill), and disposing of it after seeing Connor's disappointment in her desire for it. This metaphor feels like a nice semi-cinematic closer to their story, representing the end of this arc.

Add in the fact Ally's being built up as the next big antagonistic force, and the eventual pushing out of Riya feels like an inevitability at this point. I do genuinely hope it's sooner than later though, please let this storyline die already Odd Nation.

4. GRETT

It pains me to put Grett at such a low final five placement, since she's probably my second-favorite person still left in the competition. Her arc about breaking free from Yul was extremely cathartic, as is seeing her gain confidence in herself and take control of the competition. However, that's precisely the problem, she's in too good of a position right now.

Obviously, Ally's seen through her strategy of playing both sides, making it clear that she'll probably have a hand in Grett's elimination. But it also worries me that Grett won the last episode's immunity challenge, with this demonstration of how capable she is feeling like the climax to her story. Plus, on a pure logical level, she doesn't really have the votes to stay at this point: while Connor's chill with her, Jake's open about distrusting her and Ally's growing suspicious of her. Tl;dr, things aren't looking very good for Best Girl in the long run 😔.

3. CONNOR

The man, the myth, the legend, Connor's my personal fave of the season by far. The man's carrying All Stars on his back at this point, with me loving his positive influence over the heroes, his desire to prove he's capable of winning, and even his exploration into his destroyed relationship with Riya (even if I wish the arc was exponentially cut). However, I have difficulties thinking he'll actually win.

While he has enough plot points at this point to make me think he won't immediately be evicted after Riya's gone, I think the major theme with him post-Riya elimination will be the "proving himself" arc. However, I don't necessarily think it'll end with him proving himself as the best contestant, but rather realize the positive effect he had on others: Jake basically sees him as a father figure, Alec is gay for him admires him as a person, and even Riya has the slight potential of being influenced for the better by him. I can totally envision him fumbling the bag just before the final two, but being shown just what his worth truly is, and helping my pick for the winner... well, win the season.

2. ALLY

As much as I really, really, really don't want Ally getting to the finals, it pains me to say the story would just make more sense if she came in second.

Although I personally find the writing of her arc substandard at best, Ally's descent into villainy is a perfect mirror of my current winner pick: while their arc's been about them growing and changing as a person, she's ended up regressing to the same petty, annoying contestant they once were, making them nice thematic parallels to one another.

Plus, with Riya likely leaving relatively soon, and Grett's "villain" status being up in the air at this point, it just makes sense for a newly-corrupted hero to be the final boss of the season. Hell, with her desire to be liked, perhaps the newly-found disappointment from her friends will be the reason she loses. Who knows?

1. JAKE

I've been on Team Jake's-Winning-Disventure-Camp-All-Stars since Lake's character shilling to Aiden about him in Episode 11, and with everything I've watched following it, I can't see any outcome that doesn't have him being the winner at this point. He's easily what I'd consider the main character of the season and, while his arc hasn't exactly been the most enjoyable to me personally, is the one I'd consider having the most win equity to it.

During the first half of the series, Jake... isn't exactly the most pleasant, to put it mildly. Due to the early arc of Jake's paranoia over Tom's relationship with Aiden, he spends most of his initial screentime being snippy with his hero alliance (mainly Aiden and Ally), something weaponized by some of the more villainous players. This petty feuding leads to the hero alliance's darkest moment: Ashley, aka Jake's most trusted ally at that point, getting voted out as collateral.

However, after Best Boy™️ Connor returns to the game, and subsequently calls the heroes out for their pettiness, Jake begins to take small steps to stop being such a self-destructive person. He manages to turn his sour relationship with Aiden around into a genuine bond, helps Connor out of his Riya-related funk, and has his currently-best moment of winning Episode 15's immunity challenge, using his emotional openness to pass a truth-based challenge. This is wrapped up in his pre-challenge exchange with Connor in Episode 16: he's realized he can change for the better.

All of this makes me think the finale will focus on the dichotomy between him and Ally: while Ally's fallen into the same paranoid and spiteful line of thinking as him, his ability to grow as a person will be karmatically be rewarded by his win.

...And that's it, that's all! Thanks for reading my predictions! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna see how these stack up as the new episodes roll out, lol.

#hopefully i've laid my points out decently well! i may have gotten lost in the sauce of giving my opinions on them as a whole #disventure camp #disventure camp all stars

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getblackout503 · 9 months ago

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“Like hell we are” Yami said to his comrades, he was trying to convince them to storm the Zogratis base to retrieve his daughter, his squad member. Yet they denied his plan.

“Yami, we can’t just barge in.” Charlotte told him. “I understand what you’re feeling but you have to think this through.”

“If you understand what I’m feeling then you know I can’t just sit here and wait, god knows what he’s doing to her right now.” Yami was truly terrified at the horrors they must be putting Grey through.

“But it would be suicide to just storm in.” Jack said.

“Not to mention they would have us outnumbered, assuming they’d expect a counter attack.” Dorothy added.

“Then let’s get better weapons and-“

“Yami please, you need to calm down and think thing through-“

“I am!” Yami screams, then he stops. He realized his actions. “Sorry, it’s just…I need to save her.”

The room fell silent, they knew what Grey meant to him. And they truly felt the same, they’ve known Grey from the moment Yami first brought her to the base, they’ve bonded with her, grown closer to her, helped her. Charlotte still remembers the day Yami brought her, she remembers tending to her wounds.

“I-I’m sorry,” Grey said.

“For what?” Charlotte had already disinfected and bandaged her wounds, whatever she had been through it wasn’t pretty.

“For causing all this trouble, I should have…I shouldn’t have been-“

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Charlotte could tell immediately what this girl has been through, for she’s seen it from her two apprentices, oftentimes they mask their traumas with tough exteriors. Yet Charlotte remembers the countless nights she has held them in her arms as they wept, and she feels she may have another one to hold. But it’s not like she hates it, these girls need someone to care for them, to let them know they matter, but it’s not only them for she knows everyone is in need of someone to trust. But sadly many times they are hurt for that need and it ends up causing an endless cycle of isolation and want, no, a need to reach for someone, to find someone. “No one should have to feel that way, I may not know what has happened to you, and you may never trust me enough to tell me but, sometimes the best thing you can do is…find someone to trust.”

“B-but…last time I did that, I-“

“I know, but…that doesn’t mean you have to stop letting people in.”

“Why…why are you people helping…me?”

“Why?” Charlotte smiles gently and warmly. “Because you need help, and it would be wrong to leave you to fend for yourself.”

Charlotte saw the girl’s eyes start watering, her heart broke at the very sight and as if her motherly instinct kicked in she wrapped her arms around the blue haired girl and held her as she wept. Charlotte vowed that day to always protect this girl.

Yet now she felt as if she had broken that vow, not only was her daughter most cherished friend gone but now she was back to the place that had damaged her. And she wasn’t alone in this sentiment both Jack and Dorothy had grown close to Grey. Jack being the cool uncle to Grey and Dorothy being the loving aunt that always loved teasing her, so they as well felt as if they had failed. Grey meant the world to them and with her gone it tore them to shreds.

“We know Yami,” Charlotte took his hand. “That’s why we’ll save her, together” She and the others were ready to lay down their lives for Grey, but they needed to plan their strike properly.

“We’ll get her back, we need to plan and prepare before we go in” Jack said. “Plus weapons, but leave that to me kehehehe”

“I’ll have my guys come up with a battle strategy.” Dorothy said with a yawn, though she was the most motivated.

“Then me and Yami will handle the manpower,” Charlotte said as she turned. “Though it may take us a day to fully prepare, we need to plan and organize first, and attack second.”

“Okay…just…”

“We’ll get her back, I promise you”

“We better, because I’d rather die than have her suffer.”

“That makes two of us”

‘Grey, just hold on kid, we’re coming for you’

#black clover #grey black clover #black clover grey #greyche #grey x gauche #gauche x grey #spy au #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #dorothy unsworth #jack the ripper

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morgan-weston · 6 months ago

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talking would take too much time, i think i just better show you || eva & morgan

WHO: Eva Anderson @anderseva & Morgan Weston

WHERE: Eva's condo

WHEN: 8th of September

WHY: After his big blow-out argument with Andy about who Oakley's dad is, Morgan intends to go over and apologize to Eva for the radio silence and explain what has happened, buuuut his instincts are telling him to do something else.

WARNING: Smuttyyyy

MORGAN:

A week and a half had passed since Puck and Eva had confronted Morgan about Andy. The wheels had turned inside the young cowboy's head, going over every single word, every single thing that had been said, analyzing every single part of it, and trying to figure out what the best strategy for going about this whole ordeal would be. He'd basically isolated himself, not talking to his two lovers, or spending the same amount of time with them, that he used to, just to figure it our. And he missed them, goddammit! He couldn't help it! But he needed this conversation with Andy to be out of the way. He needed to have an answer, to know what the next step would be, before seeing them again. And when he finally did, it did not go any type of way that he was expecting it to. In fact, it had left him angry, frustrated and hurt. And he could easily just have let that kick him back into isolation, but being his rational self, Morgan didn't want that to happen. No, he knew what his next step would be. He rang the doorbell of the condo, leaning against the doorframe and running his fingers down his chins, the beard brushing against his fingertips as he waited for the frontdoor to open. And when he did, he slowly stood up, and looked at her. His eyes found her deep ones, and he felt his knees buckle. He'd thought out exactly what to say, but when he saw her, he couldn't help himself. Instead, he let his impulses take over, and he stepped forward, his hands softly grabbing a hold of her waist and bringing her body into his, their chests colliding and their lips crashing against each other, in the most hungry way that Morgan had ever been for Eva.

EVA:

With classes having started this week, Eva had been able to throw herself into work and use it as a distraction from any ounce of guilt she had about what had gone down with Morgan. While she didn't regret her interaction with Andy, she had regretted telling Morgan about it. With the way he'd stormed out of her classroom and then hadn't said a word to her since, she didn't exactly know where they stood. Puck also hadn't said anything to her about hearing from Morgan so while she didn't know if the men had spoken, she was practically assuming that the cowboy just wasn't up for dealing with them at the time. But she was trying to give him space, which was why she had spent her weekend with girl friends before deciding to relax a bit on Sunday. Or she was until she heard the knock on the door. She wasn't expecting any company today, but she was grateful that she was in one of Puck's old high school tees and a pair of shorts as she went and opened the door. Seeing Morgan on the other side, she couldn't read into his eyes but she was sure something was wrong, but then she was being yanked forward and pulled into a kiss before she could ask him if he was okay. Eva wrapped her arms around the cowboy's neck as she guided them into her loft, and then she kicked the door shut behind them. When the need for air became too much, she pulled away just enough to break the kiss but to still be able to gaze into Morgan's eyes. "How do you want me?"

MORGAN:

It felt like the massive weight on his shoulders from the emotional turmoil of everything that had just happened had suddenly been lifted, as Eva responded to the kiss almost immediately. The way she reciprocated by pulling him in was something that he was incredibly grateful for, and when she kicked the door closed, Morgan pushed her up against it, a hand instantly falling onto the hard surface to keep her from hitting it. He could’ve stayed like this, but that was probably the lack of air in his head talking, because he breathed heavily when Eva pulled away, his eyes opening. He’d been determined to tell her how he felt, determined to communicate about it, but instead, the only determination there now was, was the lust behind his eyes, and he knew Eva could sense that, given her question. She was always so good at knowing exactly what he needed. “In every kind of way,” Morgan said, voice low and raspy from the lack of air. He looked down briefly and saw the t-shirt and shorts that she was wearing. He recognized the top; it was Puck’s. He would be next on Morgan’s list to visit. For now, his attention was only on Eva though. Bending down slightly, Morgan’s hands slid to her ass, and he lifted her up effortlessly, his lips connecting back on hers, as he made his way further into his lover’s condo. He had no idea where he was going, but he had two things on his mind: ‘don’t drop her’ and ‘kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her’. Her lips were soft like pillows, and the way she fit against him like this was everything. Morgan managed to find his way into her kitchen, setting her down on the countertop. One hand spread her legs apart to make room for him to stand in between, and the other swiftly started tugging on Puck’s t-shirt, desperately needing it off. The kiss only broke, once the material of top had to come off over her head, but it didn’t take long for Morgan to connect his lips to the bare, warm skin of Eva’s neck, where he felt so incredibly safe.

EVA:

Eva should have been slowing things down here, asking him to use his words to explain the radio silence over the last week and a half, questioning what exactly had happened that led to him turning up on her doorstep like this, but she couldn't. Or at least she didn't want to. While she was used to him being much softer and a lot more gentle with his actions, at least majority of the time, she knew that this was different. Assuming he'd talked to Andy, she could only theorize that the talk did not go over well, and that they had probably lied yet again or said some shit about them threatening her, so she was sure that Morgan wasn't happy right about now. If he wanted to work his frustration out with her, she sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. His answer to her question sent chills down her spine — the cowboy had never exactly said that to her in that tone, and the pool between her legs was proof that it had sparked something inside of her. Smirking as he scooped her up, she eagerly kissed him back yet again as he carried her into her kitchen and put her on the counter. While she enjoyed him being an absolute gentleman, there was something about him being insatiable that was driving her wild. She let him get the shirt off before she was tilting her head to the side, giving him much better access to her neck as her hands fumbled with the buckle on his belt. Eva needed it off, now, and luckily it didn't take too much blundering before she was undoing the belt, and then the buttons, before pushing his jeans down as far as she could manage in this position. Now she was the one getting impatient. "Mr. Weston, I hope you didn't come all this way just for some foreplay." She whined. "Because after the way you just kissed me, I need you."

MORGAN:

Morgan always got like this around Eva. There was something about her - he couldn't explain exactly what it was; if it was her energy, the way she looked at him - that always had the man craving for more. More of being physical with her, more of getting to know every single movement and sound of hers, more of wanting to know what she thought and felt. He couldn't possibly get more of her. His lips ghosted over the silky smooth skin of her neck for a second or two, feeling the way her small hands were working his belt and pants, and his hand moved to her hair, tangling his fingers into it. The velvety-like feeling of her earlobe hit his nose, and he breathed in deeply as he placed kisses right under it, feeling the air hit his legs as she managed to push his jeans off. 'I need you' chimed through his ears as his brain started to register it, and he moved back in to kiss her lips passionately, managing to deepen it after a moment. "I need you too," He whispered against her lips, and started kicking his shoes and pants off, having to break the kiss. His hands lifted his t-shirt up and over his head, and whilst trying to catch his breath after the kiss, he allowed his eyes to explore the goddess who was right in front of him. Her body, her face, those eyes and lips. "God, I need you so fucking badly," He repeated, a rawness in his throat appearing on the swear word. He couldn't even begin to describe just how badly he needed her; but he also couldn't even fathom in what kind of capacity he did. His hands moved to her thighs, letting his fingers wander up, and under the shorts. They danced with the fabric for a moment, his eyes trying to read her reactions, before he finally bend down and placed his lips, going on the exact same trail that his curious hand had just done. He pushed the shorts slightly out of the way, so his lips could have access to her inner thigh, and his fingers inched closer and closer to Eva's hot center. "What do you want?"

EVA:

Although it hadn't been that long since they were last intimate, Eva had been quietly longing for him. She felt like she'd spent more time 1x1 with Puck than she did with Morgan, at least in terms of intimacy, and she was desperate to change that. Doing it as a throuple was one thing, but with so many limbs and mouths attempting to move in sync to please one another, it was much hard to soak in every little thing Morgan liked during sex, so this was her chance to explore it all. Hence her melting into him at the foreplay, allowing his lips to trail over her flesh until he was kissing her yet again, making her whine every so softly as she kissed him back. Honestly, how she was still struggling to understand the severity of her increasing feelings for her men, she'd never know, but Morgan's actions so far were only driving her crazier. Her mouth briefly went dry as he returned her sentiment in a tone she wasn't accustomed to, but she was sure that the puddle between her legs signaled just how much she loved it. Watching his hands travel along her body, Eva bit her lip as Morgan lowered herself, not that he had to do much of that, right between her legs. She was almost struggling to decide what she wanted as her eyes stayed glued to his. "Umm..." She paused, running a hand through his hairas she shrugged. "I need either your mouth or your dick — or both, I don't even care." She whimpered as she gently tugged on his short, dark strands of hair. "I just need you to fuck me, Mr. Weston."

MORGAN:

A devious smirk grew on Morgan's lips, hearing Eva whine for more, for him. In his ears, it sounded like he could do anything he wanted to, to her, as long as it involved satisfying her, and that was a dangerous game to play. Now it felt like he wanted to prove something to her; that she'd never get anything better than this. So while he was bent down, his hand travelling up and under her underwear, his lips explored that soft skin on her thighs, getting higher and higher up, tongue dragging over it, before finally finding the right spot that he could leave a mark on, wanting her to have something to remember this time by. Meanwhile, his fingers finally reached her hot center, and his thumb ghosted over her clit, rubbing it gently before moving his lips up towards it. His tongue darted out, licking up some of her juices and humming delightfully. "You taste so good, Ms. Anderson," he growled, and looked up at her with a smirk, before moving back in, tongue and thumb toying with her clit for a moment, before he finally stood up straight. His arm slid around her waist, as he tugged his underwear down enough to reveal his hard member, taking it into his hand and beginning to guide himself into her. With eyebrows furrowed, he kept his dark eyes on hers, and held his breath, feeling her walls around him tightening. "I can't do both at the same time," he teased in a breathless whisper. "But I can promise you the latter." And with that, he had her filled up, and he slowly started to pull out again, only to push himself in, and start a steady rhythm of thrusts, eyes never leaving Eva's.

EVA:

With the few amount of times that Morgan and Eva had done this as just a duo, it was easy to spot the difference in this time and the others. Him wanting to please her in ways no one else could was customary when he was simply charming her, or wining and dining her, but him aiming to appease her like this sexually was driving her crazy already. She watched him chase kisses along her inner thighs, not even remotely worried about him marking her up. If the man wanted to claim her, she'd sure as hell let him. She was so mesmerized by his mouth being possessive that she hadn't even paid his hand any attention until he was toying with her clit, causing her to softly moan out in response. Morgan was definitely trying to kill her at this rate, and she was one hell of a willing participant. As soon as she felt the warmth of his tongue swiping though her folds, Eva gently ran a hand through his hair. "Morgan!" She whimpered. They both knew what had gotten into him, and part of her wished he could always be this frustrated or upset or whatever if it meant he'd keep devouring her like this. Him teasing her clit sent chills down her spine, and she immediately frowned once he stopped. "You're torturing me." She pointed out as he held her, though she instantly perked up as he freed his dick. With the Puck's shit with his dad and Morgan's baby daddy drama with Andy, she hadn't been dicked down since the last time the throuple had been together, and she'd needed this. Eva bit her lip as his length started to fill her up, and she rolled her eyes playfully at his words. "This is exactly what I needed, cowboy." She confessed, gazing right into his eyes as he started pushing in and out of her cunt. "I've missed you." She muttered almost inaudibly. Showing affection was one thing, but Eva had never been one to just openly admit to missing someone in this capacity, yet it was true, and she'd been starting to get needy when it came to her men. "Harder, Mr. Weston." She pleaded.

MORGAN:

There was a hung intensity in the room, it almost felt like there was an electricity between the two semi-naked bodies, and sparks kept flying off. There was no denying that Morgan was using his frustrations, his pent-up anger - but he was also using his desire, his need for Eva. She was like a drug, in an incredibly compelling way. One taste, and Morgan was hooked, and now he'd gone through withdrawals for over a week, and he wanted to go back, take her all in. The way he craved her, how desperate he was to feel her against him, hear her moans and get shivers from her fingertips dragging through his hair or her nails along his back; it was like he was a predator, hovering over his prey, taking in his prize before devouring her, as if she was his last meal. He wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly, or if she'd mumbled something else, but the words 'miss you' seemed to register in Morgan's brain, and it only made it more intense for him. Not once did he take his eyes off of hers, as his thrusts only grew faster. He wanted to show her, prove to her that he'd missed her too. Heavy breaths came out through his nose, and his arm around her waist gripped her tighter, making sure she didn't go anywhere. Every now and again, he would feel her walls vibrate against his dick, or her moan had his heart flutter, and in return, his throat would close up, and a growl would come out. His free hand moved to her cheek, cupping it gently, a stark contrast his hard thrusts. The sound of their skin clapping together filled the room, and Morgan was beginning to feel his abdomen area start to tense up, that itch slowly starting to get scratched. "Fuck, you feel so good," He managed to moan out loud, eyes finally closing and giving in to the wonderful sensation of her. He turned it up a notch, not being able to help himself, and sped up, going faster and harder, fingers tangling into Eva's hair, and eyes openinp to keep them locked on Eva's, wanting to watch her every reaction.

EVA:

Eva wasn't sure how she'd gone from giving Morgan to space to suddenly having his dick buried inside of her, but she was on a cloud now. As much as she had been avoiding the obvious feelings she was starting to have for Puck and Morgan, the way she'd wrapped her arms around Morgan's neck and was moaning and whimpering just for him would surely say otherwise. She was hardly this enthralled by pointless sex with anyone that wasn't her boys, and the shift in the cowboy was definitely about to send her brain spiraling. The only other time she'd felt desired this much was during Puck's birthday threesome, which naturally was on another caliber with all things considered, but this was much different. Morgan's grunts, the intensity of his thrusts, the way he was gazing into her eyes — Eva was almost in a trance as her nails clawed at the nape of the man's neck, and she was struggling to maintain eye contact as her head tried to tilt back the more he railed her. "Fuck, Morgan!" She cried out as he pinned her body to his, giving her absolutely no chance to try and run away from pounding (not that she'd wanted to). Soon enough her walls started clenching around his shaft, and she felt a familiar flutter in the pit of her stomach, and Eva was sure that she couldn't last much longer. She would have smirked at his words if it weren't for the yelp that then came out as Morgan's hand slipped into her hair, and the increased past of the thrust inside of her only gave her a few additional seconds before her orgasm was washing over her, causing her to drench Morgan's dick in her cum as she moaned out his name repeatedly, and probably far too loudly. She was sure that her neighbors wouldn't appreciate that so before she knew it, she was crashing her lips into his, kissing him passionately as he fucked her right through her climax.

MORGAN:

Morgan's breath was ragged as he felt Eva tighten around him, the pleasure overwhelming but his thoughts, for a moment, were somewhere else - caught between the wild lust they were tangled in and the mess of emotions he'd been wrestling with lately. He never expected things to escalate like this tonight, but here he was, buried deep inside her, hearing his name fall from her lips in a way that made him feel... something more than just the physical. He grunted as her nails clawed at the back of his neck, her body pressed against his in a way that made it impossible for him to think about anything else. Every thrust, every gasp, had him holding on tighter, needing her in a way that went beyond just sex. He wasn’t the kind to get caught up in feelings like this, but damn if being with Eva wasn’t messing with his head. Her moans echoed in his ears, the way she responded to him driving him wild. “Goddamn, darlin’…” he rasped, his voice rough as he watched her, caught between the intensity of their connection and the raw desire pulsing through his veins. He didn’t let up, gripping her hair as he felt her climax around him, her body shuddering with the force of it. The sound of her voice, the way she cried out his name, only pushed him further. When she kissed him - desperate, passionate - he groaned against her lips, not letting up on his pace as he rode out her climax with her. He could feel the heat coming through his own abdomen, the way she was clenching around him, the way her tongue against his felt, the way she was still moving against his body as she rode out her orgasm. Groaning into the kiss, Morgan’s eyebrows furrowed, and he could feel it. And with one last thrust, he managed to pull out before the white ropes started coming out of him, and he breathlessly bent down again, lips going straight back onto Eva’s now swollen cunt, tongue licking up her delicious juices. Moaning into her as he kept cumming, his hands moved to try and give him more space between the fabric of Eva’s shorts and her skin, but it kept getting in the way, and finally, the frustrations (as well as others) had to come out, and he grabbed a hold of each side of the shorts and her underwear, and tore them apart with a loud ripping sound. His frustrations and anger caused him to want to bring pleasure to Eva all day long.

EVA:

Eva wasn't sure of much these days, at least when it came to people's feelings and shit, yet she knew something was brewing with her, Morgan, and Puck. She'd gone over a week without so much as a peep from either man and when she'd noticed it, she'd felt a few different emotions but had chosen to swallow them and resort back to her old ways. She'd stuck her neck out to defend Morgan and try to push the idea that he deserved to know if he had a son out there, and then he'd essentially ghosted her afterwards — which she partially assumed was because she'd been right and Andy was only allowing him to see his son if he stayed away from her. She would've understood it, sure, but her disappointment and the lack of anything from Puck following their classroom fiasco had her doubting whatever feelings she was considering for either one of them, and then Morgan showed up like this. Whatever had gotten into him in the time they hadn't interacted was more than working out in her favor, and she damn near melted when he spoke. Him calling her darlin' was added to the list of shit she loved hearing the cowboy say, and if she wasn't already dripping all over his length, she certainly would have been now. Even the way he didn't miss a beat as he continued to pound her right through her orgasm was fucking sending her to all new heights of pleasure, and she was barely even able to contain the way she was moaning and panting simultaneously against his lips. Once he finally had to pull out, she frowned before watching him lower himself between her thighs again, and then her head was tilting back once more as she tugged on his hair again. "Ohh my God!" She yelped under the warmth of his tongue. "Mr. Weston—" She purred breathlessly now, yearning for more already but definitely aware that she needed a minute to recover. Her eyes widened when Morgan ripped both her shorts and her underwear, and the sight alone set every inch of her body on fire. "Goddamn.." Eva whined, and she would have been the one to initiate another round, but she knew they needed a break first, but she still liked their proximity so she wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him closer. "Not complaining....but we should talk." She pointed out. "Also, hi." They hadn't exactly had time to exchange pleasantries with the way he'd come right in and kissed her, so she figured now was a good time for it.

MORGAN:

Morgan’s breath was still uneven, his heart pounding from both the intensity of what they’d just shared and the weight of everything that had been on his mind for the past week. He hadn’t meant to disappear on her like that. In truth, he hadn’t meant for any of it to go the way it did with Andy either, but lately, he’d felt torn between too many places; a small part of him wished the kid was his; it meant that he’d created something bigger than he could ever describe. But on the other hand, he hoped Andy hadn’t lied about all of that to him, and he wasn’t ready to give up whatever it was that he had with Eva and Puck. Not now. Not when he was feeling some feelings that were indescribable but absolutely amazing to feel. As Eva wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the tension in him eased just a little. Being here with her, feeling her warmth, it reminded him of what he’d been missing. A small groan did escape his throat though; he’d wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting her. But he also understood why they couldn't. He pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, catching his breath, a small smile tugging at his lips when she gave him that ‘Mr. Weston’ tease. But her words about needing to talk lingered in his head, heavier than the playful mood they'd shared a moment ago. "Hey," he finally said softly, his voice low but filled with an unfamiliar warmth. He kissed her cheek lightly, the intensity of their earlier passion settling into something quieter, more intimate. "I’m sorry, I got a li’l carried away,” Morgan started, pulling back enough to look at her poor ripped bottoms that he’d gone all Hulk on. He let his hands slide up her back, grounding himself in the feel of her. Finally, his eyes lifted to catch hers again, sucking in a deep breath. They should talk. “And I’m sorry about just disappearing. It wasn’t about you. There’s been a lot goin’ on with Andy, tryin’ to figure out how to talk to 'em." Morgan sighed, shaking his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of regret and sincerity. "You deserved better than that, and I don’t wanna keep you in the dark. I wanna figure things out with you. Just… been caught up in my head, and I know I should’ve been here." He let his forehead rest against hers again, his touch gentle as if trying to show her that he meant every word. "But I’m here now. So, let’s talk."

EVA:

While Eva couldn't deny that Morgan coming in the way that he had and having his way with her had been hot as hell, it was only a bandage over the real issue here. She didn't expect much from him or from Puck, but proper communication to at least let her know that they were fine and just needed some space for a few days would have been nice. Anything would have been a much better alternative than the radio silence that had sent her right back to her old ways, but she wasn't about to tell them that. Especially not after Morgan had fucked her like that, and was prepared to go for another round until she'd stopped him. Letting him rest his forehead against her own, she took in his ragged breathing and allowed her own to even back out as she started trying to force her brain not to be so jumbled up now. She didn't even know what to say to him after the Andy thing, nor had she wanted to initiate the conversation herself considering that she'd gotten them all into this mess to begin with, but they would've just kept having sex if she hadn't intervened. She smiled at the kiss to her cheek, appreciating the simple gesture, before she too glanced at her now ripped bottoms. "Don't. That was sexy as hell, and I'm tempted to go get redressed just so you can do it all over again." She teased, though the thought had crossed her mind. Who wouldn't want to see that again? Before she could dwell on it too much, Morgan started his verbal apology, and she was already sighing when he mentioned not keeping her in the dark. Eva may have overstepped before, so she was 100% fine with being left in the dark on that situation, even if Morgan didn't want that. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as he continued, leaning more into his touch as her mind settled...for the most part. When it was finally her turn, she shrugged first. "I'm not mad that you weren't here. I dropped one hell of a bomb on you so I get why you needed space, and I'm glad that you took it." She reassured him. "Honestly, your situation with Andy should be handled with just you two. I can't promise not to argue with them again, and if that is your son, I'm not gonna be the reason why you can't be in his life." The kid thing wasn't for her anyways, but especially not when the kid was that young, so she had no issue removing herself in order to let Morgan see his son. "I am mad that you, and Puck, just ghosted me without so much as a simple text to tell me you were okay or wanted out of..whatever we're doing." Eva could have called it a relationship, or something akin to that, yet she'd much rather vomit than label it as such. "If all of this is too much while you're trying to figure things out with Andy, then just say that."

MORGAN:

Morgan closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in as he rested his forehead against hers. Her touch was grounding, but her words cut through the haze of everything they’d just done, forcing him to confront what he’d been avoiding. He wasn’t great with feelings, especially when they got messy, and this thing with Eva and Puck - it was starting to get real messy. And now, with Andy in the mix, things were spinning faster than he could keep up. He gave a soft chuckle at her teasing about getting redressed just to have him rip her clothes off again. It was easier to lean into that kind of talk, to keep things light and fun like they usually did, but the seriousness in her tone when she mentioned Andy pulled him right back to the heart of the issue. “I get it,” Morgan said quietly, his voice soft but sincere. “You’re right. I should’ve said somethin’. Should’ve let you know I was okay, that I just needed some time.” He brushed a thumb along her jaw, searching her eyes. “I didn’t mean to ghost you, Eva. I’ve just been tryin’ to figure out what the hell to say to Andy, how to handle all this without makin’ a bigger mess. But I should’ve made sure you weren’t left wonderin’ ’bout me. That wasn’t fair to you.” Morgan sighed, leaning back just enough to look at her fully. “As for this thing with Andy – the kid isn’t mine.” He said, definitively. He trusted Andy to tell him the truth. “And while it’s been somethin’ I’ve had to deal with on my own, you bein’ around, that doesn’t mean I can’t figure it out. You didn’t cause any of this, and you sure as hell ain’t the reason I’m tryin’ to sort things out with them. Don’t think for a second you’re the problem here.” He paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “And I ain’t tryin’ to get out of whatever this is between us, Eva. I don’t know what it is, and maybe that’s part of the problem. But I know I care about you. I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t.”

EVA:

Eva hated feelings, she hated doing the serious thing and she had been trying her hardest to avoid it for as long as she possibly could. It was a habit, one she'd perfected over the years as she ran away from her feelings, and communication wasn't her strong suit. Clearly the same went for Morgan and Puck, which wasn't a good thing, but she'd just assumed they were all fine with things the way that they were until this whole thing happened. Nodding along as he pointed out the obvious, she didn't feel the need to point it out again since he knew what he'd done wrong again. Leaning into the hand on her jaw, she knew he meant every single word he was saying, which helped ease the rest of her frustration. "You can stop apologizing, cowboy. I hear you, and I believe you." She stated. Poor communication was certainly the cause for all of this shit, and she didn't know if they'd all grow from this overnight, but she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Or she was, until he insisted that the kid wasn't his. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask why the hell he believed that so easily, but she was deciding not to get involved in all of that again. Letting him say what else he needed to say, Eva simply hummed before shrugging nonchalantly. "I care about you too. And truthfully, I want to be here for you through all of this, I do, but that means talking to me. Seriously, if everything with Andy is too much and you need space, just say it. If you need a distraction, then I can do be that. But I need you to talk to me because I can't read your mind, cowboy." She pointed out before she leaned in and kissed him softly. "But ghost me like that again and I swear I'll kick your ass."

MORGAN:

Morgan smiled against her lips as she kissed him, feeling the tension between them start to ease. There was something comforting in the way Eva said she believed him, the way she didn’t push for more explanations or question the Andy situation further. He knew it wasn’t simple, but hearing her say she cared and was willing to be there meant more than he could put into words right now. He pulled back just slightly, enough to meet her eyes with a softer look. “I hear you, Eva. I’m not gonna disappear on you again, I promise,” he said, his voice low and genuine. His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw as he kept his hand there, feeling the warmth of her skin under his palm. There was a part of him that still didn’t fully understand what he was feeling - whether it was the mess with Andy or the uncertainty with the throuple that had him all turned around - but he knew one thing for sure. He didn’t want to lose either Puck nor Eva, and he couldn’t keep pretending his feelings for her were just surface level. “I've missed you,” he admitted, his smile crooked, almost sheepish. Hearing her threat, he knew that she wasn't kidding around, but he couldn't help but grin anyway, nodding along as he took it in. "Good thing I don't want to ghost you then, huh?" And with that, Morgan moved both arms around Eva's form, slipping her off of the counter, and throwing her over his shoulder, her ass right in the air, and the torn garments of her bottoms swinging about. "Now, if you don't mind, Ms. Anderson, you and I have some things to catch up on," He said, making his way to the bedroom, as he kept a steady hand on Eva so she wouldn't leave his shoulder, and another giving her ass a playful smack. He wasn't about to go another week and a half without her again, but he also didn't hate the fact that his only intention was to spend every waking second devouring her and making sure she knew he'd missed her.

#thread #thread012 #eva #nsfpriv

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samieree · 1 year ago

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Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XXXI ''Command''

Chapter XXXII ''Dragonstone''

This should have been their last day in Meereen. Tomorrow morning everything should be ready to sail and in about three months they will be on Dragonstone. A lot of time, but considering that she spent over four years in Essos, a few months doesn't seem that long anymore.

She has never seen anything in Westeros other than Casterly Rock and King's Landing, and soon she will finally have the opportunity to see her own lands. She wonders what they look like... She always wanted to see the Eyrie, or Highgarden and all its gardens... Or Winterfell, apparently it's huge, much bigger than the Red Keep and second only to Harrenhal. Tyrion told her that the castle made an impression on him and when he heard about the fire he was even sad and somewhere he hoped that they would rebuild what was destroyed.

She stood on the balcony and watched the sunset, this is the last time she can admire it here. She had the feeling that she didn't want to leave this place, these people, these views. Everything has become so peaceful lately, it's hard to leave these lands and go into the unknown, not knowing what awaits you. She won here, but will she win there too? This was what she feared the most, the unknown. It wasn't even about gaining the throne, it was a symbol, nothing more. She wouldn't want to get it if it didn't mean so much to people, if they didn't think a ruler must sit on the Iron Throne in King's Landing.

These are problems of the not so distant future, and now she will have to face one more thing... Telling Daario that he is staying in Essos. She put it off because she didn't want to break his heart and... And at the same time, she selfishly didn't want to deprive herself of the warmth of his arms when he hugged her. Now she can't escape it.

"Your ships are almost ready." she didn't want to take her eyes off the city, but she had to make things clear. She took the goblet of wine from the railing and returned into the room, where she set it on the table. "I saw that they were finishing painting the sails, they will definitely be done by tomorrow."

"That's good." she replied, forcing a smile. She went to sit on the couch, put her hands on her knees and started playing with her fingers.

"I wonder how the Dothraki will cope with 'poisonous water.' And then-"

"You're not coming with us." she interrupted him before she chickened out again, there was no time to put things off.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Daario moved closer to her and stopped in front of the couch. She could tell she surprised him with that statement, but it seemed like he didn't understand it like he should have.

Or he didn't want to understand it.

"New strategy? Second Sons will attack from the west, will we surprise them? We will take Casterly Rock and the Lannisters will remain isolated in King's Landing." he sat down next to her and grabbed her hand gently to stop her from playing with her fingers. He sensed something was wrong, but thought she was just stressed about the travel.

"Good idea." she forced herself to smile again, it was visible in her eyes. "But you're staying here. You're not sailing to Westeros."

As she crushed it out, a stone got off of her chest, but was immediately replaced by another one, caused by the fact that she clearly hurt Daario.

"But...Visenya-"

"There is finally peace in Meereen." she interrupted him, leaning out of the couch to reach for a goblet of wine and handed it to him as if it would ease his pain. "I want you and Second Sons to make sure it lasts. You will rule in my name..."

"Fuck Meereen."

"Don't say that, we have to take care of this city. And I have one more request for you: End slavery in Lys and Volantis, the last cities where it still exists. If-"

"I'm here for you, not for them." he interrupted her, not accepting the cup, which she kept holding out towards him. He got off the couch and knelt on the ground in front of her. Finally, resigned, she put the goblet back on the table. "I love you, I want to serve you, kill your enemies, give you what you want..." he sighed in frustration.

"I want to destroy slavery, completely. And you swore to me." she noticed. "So I order you to stay in Essos."

She saw that her words did not satisfy him in any way, and that was not what they were intended to do. She was supposed to be honest, not comfort him. She couldn't treat it like her relationship with Jaime, because she didn't feel anything towards him, it was easy to reject him and run away, start a new life. Daario she didn't want to abandon, she liked him, a lot. Maybe it wasn't love, but leaving a friend is never easy. Especially since it was with him that she shared the first intimate moments of her life and will never forget it.

"If I want to rule Westeros, I must make alliances. And we all know that the best way to do that is through marriage." she explained calmly when he still didn't get up from the ground and held her hand.

He sighed and then asked:

"Who are you marrying this time?"

"I don't know yet, but for someone for sure." she shrugged. Involuntarily, she raised her hand and plunged it into his hair, combing it as if it would calm him down.

"You are the Queen, not a prize for the highest bidder." her hand froze in his hair when he said that, and mostly because he was right. Unfortunately, the reality was different, she couldn't fight the whole world alone, she had to secure alliances. She has already seen what it is like to rule without the support of the strong, influential and rich. She won't let that happen again.

Her word was final, but she still felt the need to explain her decision and do it in a way that he no longer questioned it, accepted it.

"I can't sail to Westeros with my lover." she finally said, the last argument she had left.

"The king wouldn't think twice about it, he would just do it."

"The king doesn't worry about illegitimate children." she replied. "He will deny they're his and the matter will be over. I can't do that, my heir must be legitimate, otherwise the Lords won't accept him."

"Then screw the Lords." If only it were that simple... "I don't care who you have children with, who sits next to you in the throne room. I only want you, I love you, do you understand?"

She doesn't understand. She would like to, but she doesn't understand. She doesn't know what it's like to love someone so much that you can't live without him. She doesn't know what it's like to be rejected by a loved one. She can only feel sorry for him, but her decision remains unchanged.

Besides, she's waiting to meet this mysterious boy...

"Is that what you would like? Be my mistress?"

"I'm not proud of it, but... I only care about being with you. Seeing you every day, making you smile. I make you happy, I know it, you do too." she looked down, but not for long, because Daario took her chin and lifted it. "Let me go with you, fight for you."

She moved her hand from his hair to his cheek, caressing it gently before leaning in and placing a kiss on his lips. She tried to pour into it everything she felt and wanted to say, but couldn't find the right words. She wanted to give him this one more moment, hoping that it would be like a balm to his heart, and not a knife that would only deepen the wounds.

"This isn't goodbye." she whispered once she had pulled away. "We'll see each other again, I promise. Until then, we will exchange letters."

He didn't say anything. The silence was worse for her than if he continued arguing with her, or even shouting, crying, whatever. Because this silence was more eloquent than all the words in the world.

He let go of her hand and stood up. He took a step back and finally reached for the wine she had offered him earlier. He drank it all at once.

"You will get the throne you want so much, I'm sure of it. I wish I could see it." it hurt. "But I won't betray you, ever. I will do everything you wish. I hope you won't forget about me." he gave her a forced smile, she saw it. "I will wait, Visenya Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, of the Great Grass Sea, of Dragon's Bay and my heart." after these words, he bowed slightly to her and quickly walked out, leaving her alone in this large room.

It's strange, she didn't feel lonely here before, and now the emptiness is tearing her apart.

She was supposed to talk to Tyrion that same evening, but she was unable to sit still in her chamber. Instead, she wandered the corridors of the Great Pyramid for a long time before finally finding herself in the audience chamber where she had spent so much time over the last two - or so - years. She was sitting on the stone steps, with a window behind her and a jug of wine and an empty goblet next to her. She didn't even like the taste of it, but at least she didn't feel so alone.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she looked up and saw that it was Tyrion who had come to her. Apparently he was fed up with waiting and decided to look for her.

"Sorry, I had to... Be alone for a while." she said, even a little too loud, because her voice echoed throughout the entire room.

Tyrion just nodded and sat down next to her, taking the jug in his hands and drinking straight from it, not bothering to go get the goblet or take hers. They sat like that in silence for a while, before Vis gathered herself to say why she felt that way and started talking.

"I left a man who loves me so much that he would do anything for me. And you know what I feel? Emptiness." she wasn't looking at him, but somewhere ahead.

It was strange for her, no heartbreak, no tears, just... Emptiness. Something that was pulling her down, that brought dark clouds over her.

"A good ruler sometimes has to sacrifice something." she didn't answer, but she took the jug from him and drank a little herself, also not bothering about pouring herself to a goblet. After one sip, she set it aside, but on the other side, so Tyrion wouldn't reach for it again. They can't get drunk here, their journey begins in the morning, and she still needs to discuss one thing with him. "He wasn't the first or the last to love you."

"Do you think Jaime..." the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

It seems since she ran away it must have been at the back of her head: Wondering if Jaime really loved her. And now there was the question of whether she had hurt him as much as she hurt Daario. What must he have felt when she pushed him away while they were kissing?

Well, the cold water certainly quickly cooled his enthusiasm.

"Yes." Tyrion replied, guessing what she wanted to ask. "You could compete with Cersei, your hair is blonde enough." he managed to make her laugh a little, because she smiled, lowering her head a bit. Tyrion himself laughed briefly as well. He didn't blame her for what she did because she did it to escape. It was nice to see this girl happy and not constantly depressed at Casterly Rock or King's Landing. "He would treat you well." he added when the amusement had subsided.

"But I wouldn't be happy." she quickly retorted. He didn't dare to argue with this statement.

"So it's finally happening." Tyrion decided to change the subject. "The girl who had nothing but a name has her own army, fleet and four dragons. Everything you could want after escaping. Enough to subjugate a continent. How do you feel with it?"

For a moment she considered whether she should answer honestly. After all, the truth was that she was afraid, afraid as hell. When the idea of returning to her home lands was distant, she longed for it. Then she found a purpose in her life: Changing the world. But this only postponed her return to Westeros. She could lead the campaign to Lys and Volantis herself, but it would take months or even years. And now that she had allies ready to support her claim to the crown, she couldn't delay. If she was alone and had to build ships, she would go to these two cities in person. But one day she will see them. She will see the whole world that she is so curious about, all the places she has always dreamed of seeing.

She decided not to lie.

"I'm afraid."

I'm afraid of war, I'm afraid of death, I'm afraid of how much I might lose. I'm afraid of letting people down. I'm afraid I'll fail. I'm afraid it will all be in vain. I'm afraid that I'm not good enough, that it will turn out that I'm not suitable for the role I aspire to. I don't even realize how many things I'm afraid of, because I keep pushing these fears deep inside myself, not wanting to show weakness. This admission brought them all to the surface.

"Good." surprised, she finally looked at her interlocutor for the first time since he sat next to her. "You're in the great game now, and great game is terrifying. Only a madman like the Mad King wouldn't have doubts and fear of losing."

"What if I lose?" she asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

"You will die. And everyone who follows you too."

She shuddered, although she tried to hide it. Knowing how much there was to lose chilled her blood and motivated her to act. I cannot fail. I just can't.

"That's why I can't lose." she got up from the steps, Tyrion did it right after her. Vis finally decided to bring up the matter why she wanted to see him. "I need all the help I can get. From you too."

"I would offer you my sword, but... I don't have one."

She smiled, like she did when he joked about his brother's preferences. It was kind of cute that he wanted to fight for her, considering she will be fighting against his family.

"I have enough people to fight. I need something else from you." she reached into the small pocket behind the neckline of her dress and took out a pin, which she was still hiding from his sight. She wasn't sure about this decision yet, but she thought that everything will be revealed in time. "I had it made basing on what I remember... If you ever have any doubts, decide that you no longer want to serve me, that you are not able to fight against your family, you can resign. I will give you a horse or a ship and enough food and money to get you wherever you wish to go." he didn't say anything. He already guessed what was going on, even though he was surprised by such a move. She reached out to him and pinned the mark of the Hand of the King on his chest. "But for now... Tyrion Lannister, I name you Hand of the Queen."

Still slightly shocked, he knelt down on one knee in front of her and bowed his head. Apart from the fact that he did not expect that she would entrust him with such an important position, he had never encountered a ruler who would allow someone not to accept the honor. Moreover, you can resign at any time without telling a reason.

He will help this girl. He will do everything in his power to help her sit on the Iron Throne, because he has never met anyone in his life who deserved it more than her.

"It's an honor, my Queen. I won't betray your trust."

* * *

In the morning she stood before boarding the ship that would take her to Westeros. She was about to set foot on the ramp, but hesitated. She turned her head and looked out to sea and the multitude of other ships, under the colors of the Tyrells, Martells, and Greyjoys as well. Once she gets on board everything will change, there will be no turning back. The waves will carry them to lands that were once nothing but pain to her. Now she thought of them as a homecoming.

"Something's wrong?" she turned abruptly to ser Arthur, standing on her right.

"Nothing, just..." she stopped and looked out at the sea again. "Four years ago I left King's Landing on a similar boat. Back then I had nothing, I didn't think I could achieve anything. I ran away because I wanted to be free... And now I'm going back there, with my ships, with my army and my dragons. Sounds like a dream." she smiled, but then jumped when she unexpectedly felt a pinch on her hand. "Ouch!"

"You're definitely not dreaming this." he smiled and shrugged.

"Did you pinch my father like that too?" she muttered, pretending to be offended.

"Many times, he was very fond of talking about dreams. He only stepped on the ground when necessary."

She rolled her eyes and glanced, this time at the city she was leaving behind. For the entire continent she is leaving. Her life had changed a lot since she left, but she didn't regret taking that step. It is possible that she is the last of her kind and she will certainly not allow her to fade into oblivion in the depths of history. She left her mark forever here, in Essos, and now it's time to do the same in Westeros.

"This way, my Queen." ser Arthur pointed her to the ramp and smiled encouragingly. When she asked him one last, silent question, he only nodded.

Selaria, Daenerys, Ser Barristan, you will be proud of me.

With that in mind, she confidently placed her foot on the ramp and entered the ship, where Tyrion, Missandei, and Varys were already waiting for her.

* * *

First, a simple, black, cotton shirt. Then the pants, reaching to the waist and emphasizing it. Then high-heeled shoes, which she tied while sitting on her bunk in her cabin. When she was finished, she stood up and reached for something that she had ordered to be done before sailing to Westeros, when she decided that she needed more practical clothes, and warmer ones. It resembled a coat, the one with buttons on the inside so they weren't visible. She smoothed out the fabric that reached about her knees. Then she adjusted the long sleeves, similar to those on the gowns she wore in Meereen. All she had left to wear was a few rings and a hair ornament, a pin with three dragon heads facing back to back. She put it in the braids at the back of her head and was ready to go.

"It uuits you." Missandei smiled at her, she was waiting for Visenya outside the door.

"It suits you too." she returned the compliment. "Do we have anything planned for today?"

"Yes, dis-"

"Dragonstone on the horizon!" they were interrupted by a shout from the deck.

Visenya didn't give Missandei a chance to repeat herself. An excitement that she hadn't even expected washed over her. She ran up the stairs to the deck of the ship and quickly walked to the bow. The crew were shouting something to each other, but she didn't pay attention to it. It was morning, she and Missandei were the first to go on deck, and from the excitement that appeared among the people, it could be concluded that it was about to get crowded.

In the distance, they could actually see their destination, Dragonstone. Hundreds of years ago, this was where her ancestors stayed when they fled Old Valyria. Now she will live here, at least for a while.

She was so absorbed that she didn't even notice that others had also appeared on board, including Tyrion, who stood on her right.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty."

She didn't count how much time had passed between the moment she saw land and when she stood on the jolly boat. The dragons flew over their heads, heading straight for the castle and flying around it. From this distance she couldn't see its full beauty yet, but she already knew it is extraordinary. She felt it.

The boat reached the shore. She waited impatiently for the steps to be placed so she could finally set foot on land. Of course, she was the first to leave and took quite large steps towards the castle. At some point, however, she stopped, looking up at the huge building. With a sigh, she crouched down, resting her hands on her knees, and then moved one of them to the wet sand.

When she sailed here, she thought that she was sailing home, that she would finally find a place for herself in the world, after all, no matter how you look at it, this is also her family home. How many people passed through these lands? When her ancestors came to this shore, it was an empty island, nothing special. And yet they chose this place as their home. She lifted her hand from the sand and ran the grains between her fingers, thinking about this new chapter that was beginning in her life. She is responsible for thousands of lives, she cannot fail them.

Hearing the screech of the dragons, she looked up back at the path in front of her. She has decided to walk on it, there is no turning back. Enough of hesitating, enough of dreaming about the future, it's time to start building it.

She stood up, dusting off her hands, and confidently moved forward. She breathed deeply, calming her heartbeat.

The first steps led to a gate, a great gate. At the ground on both sides it was surrounded by sculptures of dragon heads, and at the top their entire figures. The two Unsullied went to open the passage for her while she focused on admiring the walls, which were already very ornate in themselves.

She didn't even notice that her closest companions were following her. She felt as if she were exploring this castle herself, as if its beauty was reserved only for her. Behind the gate, there were even more stairs waiting for them, but the beauty of the castle finally became visible. The gates looked like dragon heads and the towers were topped with figures of these beasts. The building definitely looked like the seat of a family with a dragon as its sigil.

She took two steps at a time to get inside as quickly as possible. Even there, the details in the decoration were taken care of, even though the interior was not rich in small decorations, like the Red Keep. The door handles resembled dragons, and the entire door looked as if it was covered with dragon scales.

The only thing she didn't like was the Stannis Baratheon's banner hanging inside. She grabbed the fabric and pulled it down hard, throwing it to the ground. This place would never be anyone's other than her family's again. If she is the last of her house, then let it be deserted, but let no one defile it with their sigils.

After passing through several corridors, with the sound of her heels echoing first and others following behind her, they finally stopped in front of a door where stood a throne carved into the rock. Once upon a time, the heirs to the throne resided in this castle, they were titled Prince of Dragonstone and this throne was for them. Her parents also once lived here, so she would probably have been born here if it weren't for the war.

Thinking about being here and actually being within these walls were two different things. She didn't expect that this place would make such an impression on her, that it would make her think about all her ancestors, especially the most famous ones: Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys. She is the first Visenya since the Conquest, and the second woman to claim the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra failed to go down in history as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, even though she deserved it. It didn't make her feel optimistic, but times had changed. Rhaenyra fought against her brother, both sides had dragons, the kingdoms were divided. She is the only person in the world who has dragons. There is no male member of House Targaryen to challenge her claim to the throne.

This is how I will go down in the pages of history, right next to the Breaker of Chains - she thought, entering the large room with the throne.

The chambers needed cleaning, of course, but that's not a problem, she has enough people to do it in one day, at least the most important rooms. She didn't know the exact layout of the castle, only what she remembered from the notes in the books, but there should be another room here, just above the cliff...

She climbed the stairs almost to the throne and looked around for a passage. It was to the left, and she immediately directed her steps that way. This chamber was smaller, but no less important. A bas-relief of a dragon decorated the wall, and the main thing that took up almost the entire space was a table.

But not just any ordinary wooden table... Made of stone, in the shape of Westeros, with all the most important castles, rivers, forests and mountains carved into it. There were even figurines on it and three chairs pushed aside. Everything was dusty, left to its fate at some point. She moved to the very end of the table, her eyes wandering over the places marked on the map. This is where they will plan their next steps, where to fight the battle, and how to transport the troops.

She rested her hands on the stone table and raised her head, looking at her companions who had come here with her.

"Let's begin." she said, interrupting the sound of waves crashing on the cliffs behind her.

-> Chapter XXXIII ''Dārilaros'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

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