#i feel like a wife whose husband has gone off to war and she's not sure if she'll ever see him alive again

[etherealixie]

i am not ok and i will continue to not be ok until january 2025 🤧

[ljz002-world]

Revenge, Part 7

“How do you like it this far?”, Thomas asked as he entered his wife’s bedroom. She had insisted on getting her very own one. “I like it more with you gone.” “Still as hateful as when I left this morning”, Thomas spoke as he took a seat on the empty chair that stood on the balcony beside the one his wife was sitting on.

They had been married for about three months by now and had found a routine that worked for them both. Thomas left for work in the mornings leaving Y/N all alone with the maids and a few blinders in their home until he returned after work. They’d have dinner together and then go to sleep on their own, unless Thomas wanted sex. Which was quite often, but most of the times Y/N left to her own room afterwards. He provided for her, gave her spending-money to take care of the house and for herself, and brought her plenty of gifts to keep her somewhat happy. In return she talked about him in high regards, made him look like a honorable husband, a man who stood up and took care of actions during the war. Words for which even rich German aristocrats sent their admirations to him. Even Churchill had spoken to him about his young wife.

“How could I not? After all I know that you return every night.” “I’ll need you talking more nicely about me tomorrow.” “Why?” “Because Churchill has invited us for dinner with his majesty and some other important men.” “Can’t you go alone-“ “Churchill has asked specifically for you to attend with me”, Thomas interrupted his wife who put down her book as she looked at Thomas. “Why?” “You tell me”, Thomas stated as he flipped some ashes off the bud of his cigarette, “You’re the one who does all the fancy-talking. Somehow got it to Mr. Churchill himself. And now he wants to meet you. He sent me word of it today at the office.” “So I’ll be meeting your king?” “You will.” “Then I’ll need a new dress.” “I’ll give you the money for it. Just take Finn, Scudboat and Isaiah with you when you leave the house.”

Y/N just nodded absent mindedly as she turned her attention to the horses they kept outside. “What’s on your mind?” “Why should I tell you?” “I’m your husband. You vowed to share your worries with me.” Y/N let out a small huff as she crossed her arms under her chest, flaunting her breasts in front of Thomas whose eyes went down to his wife’s chest immediately. His wife was attractive, no matter how much she wanted to kill him. That didn’t change one bit of the control she had over his body.

“Answer me Y/N.” “I…”, she began but shook her head, “Forget it Thomas. You wouldn’t get it.” “You can still tell me. Tell me.” “Nothing, really. Just some of the maids-“ “What did they do?” “I heard them talking about me, and they don’t take me serious. They call me a leech and a bitch-“ “You are”, Thomas spoke, “But only I get to call you that, love. Which maids? I’ll have them fired.”

“So you do have a heart and care about my feelings?” Thomas stood up as he walked to stand behind Y/N’s chair, placing his hands on her shoulders as he leant down. Making sure his lips grazed her ear as he spoke, “You’re a Shelby now. Nobody disrespects a Shelby. And especially not my wife. Don’t forget that love. You’re Thomas fucking Shelby’s wife now. You can act like it.”

=

“Don’t look too amazed love”, Thomas spoke quietly as he held Y/N’s hand in his own while leading the way up the stairs of Buckingham Palace to the Ballroom where the dinner would be held. “Well sorry I’ve never been to a fucking palace like this before”, Y/N returned in the same hushed tone but a lot sassier. “Just don’t act too amazed”, Thomas spoke, “And don’t forget to be polite and to smile-“ “I’m not nine Thomas”, Y/N spoke as the two entered the Ballroom where most men were already present.

“Mr. Shelby”, Winston Churchill spoke as he walked from his seat towards the freshly married couple, shaking Thomas’ hand before taking ahold of Y/N’s and placing a kiss to the back of it, “Mrs. Shelby.” “Mr. Churchill”, Y/N spoke with a shy smile. “Now, you’re even more of a beauty than I’ve been told”, Churchill said as the couple took their seats. Y/N sitting besides Thomas, with Churchill across from her. “You’re too king Mr. Churchill-“ “Oh please, call me Winston.” “Then please call me Y/N.” The girl put on a sweet smile as she spoke with the prime minister who returned a smile.

“We’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs. Shelby”, one of the fine gentlemen present at the table spoke as he gestured towards the girl decked out with fine jewels. “Did you?”, the girl asked, her earrings clinking as she moved her head which she had tilted slightly upwards in a confused manner while glancing at Thomas. “Your husband speaks a lot about you”, another gentleman said plainly. “Does he now?”, Y/N spoke with a odd smile on her face, as Thomas just cleared his throat, “Well, you are a lovely wife. And as I work for the crown, I see it of need to inform the gentlemen of any big changes in my life.”

“Now, Y/N”, Churchill began, “Do tell us how you met Mr. Shelby. You seem like a ball of sunshine in comparison to your husband.” “Well, I worked for him before we got married”, Y/N began her usual fairytale-like-romance which she’d tell when asked, “I’m German if we’re completely honest, but we lost the war. I came to England for a job, and Thomas here was in need of a translator.” “And you just so fell for his charms”, Churchill spoke as Y/N nodded, “What can I say Winston? I am but a girl with a weak heart.” “And it seems that Mr. Shelby does have a heart behind his cold façade, but who could blame him? Falling for such a sweet girl.” Y/N smiled softly as she took a sip from the glass of red wine.

=

“So? How did I do?”, Y/N asked as she and Thomas walked into their home, “Better than expected-“ For that the girl gave her husband a slight slap onto his chest, “Better than expected?”, she imitated his voice, “I was amazing!” “Why don’t you drink wine more often?”, Thomas spoke, more to himself than his wife, “You’re a lot more playful and kind to me like this.”

“Don’t get used to it Tommy”, Y/N huffed as she turned to face the older man who grabbed ahold of her wrists when she went to playfully hit him again, a big smile taking over her cheeks, which drew a slight smile from the Shelby’s features. “Oh but I would like to get used to it”, he murmured, leaning down until his face was mere inches away from Y/N’s. “Buy me good wine and take me more often to London. I’d like to see those clubs Winston was talking about, and I might”, she laughed while stepping closer, gently removing her wrists from his grasp, wrapping them around his neck while stepping onto her toes a bit more, hovering her lips over her husband’s lips as she looked from one of his icy eyes to the other then to his lips and then back to his eyes again. “Don’t say another man’s name while trying to seduce your husband-“ “I’m trying to seduce you?”, Y/N quirked an eyebrow as she tilted her head to the side.

“You’re not trying. You never try to. You just do”, Thomas murmured before connecting their lips.

Tagged ppl: @hollyluvseveryone4ever13, @meadows5, @mamawiggers1980, @jbrownta

[singular-yike]

Now I'm suddenly wondering: have you noticed any more obscure references to Japanese history and myth in Len'en (that you haven't already talked about)?

Hm, I suppose that'd depend on how we define obscure, there are still a lot of references that I haven't gone over yet, many of the EMS characters being ones that I can think of off the top of my head.

But today I guess we can take a look at one that I myself figured out not too long ago: Kujiru Kesa, slug youkai, faithful shikigami to Garaiya Ogata and omnipresent scout of the Dragonfly Army.

The Person Who is One, And Yet Many — Kujiru Kesa

Name: Kujiru Kesa

Their given name "kujiru" (クジル) is written in katakana but is likely meant to be the verb 抉る, "to stick (a rod, etc.) into and move around", "to dig/scoop something out" or "to pierce a hole into a hard object".

Their family name, "kesa" (袈裟), is the Japanese word for the Kāṣāya, robes worn by fully ordained Buddhist monks and nuns.

Sometimes when children are born, the umbilical cord is hung around the neck and body, which looks like the child is born wearing a Kāṣāya.

However, children whose umbilical cords wrap around them like this are prone to stillbirth, so those who are born like this often have "Kesa (袈裟)" added to their name, as a charm for peaceful growth. This relation to life and growth may be related to Kujiru's ability to divide and create more of themselves.

Mythological Basis: Kesa-gozen

Let's start with what I discovered recently, that Kujiru has roots in the fictional character (as far as we can tell) Kesa-gozen. Her story most famously found in The Tale of the Heike (平家物語), although other versions exist as well.

The Tale of the Heike

The Tale of the Heike, unlike the entirely fictitious The Tale of Genji, is actually based on history.

Specifically, it is an epic account of the struggle between the Taira and Minamoto clans for control of Japan, which ultimately ended in the Jōhei Tengyō no Ran (承平天慶の乱), more commonly known as the Genpei War (源平合戦).

You might know that this is also where we got our famous account of the Kusanagi sinking into the sea from, as well as where the Saeda is famously featured.

Kesa-gozen's Story

Kesa-gonzen's story really only superficially inspired Kujiru and there's not much need to be too detailed with it, so here's a condensed version:

A samurai by the name Moritou Endou (遠藤盛遠), who did historically exist, fell in love with Kesa-gozen (袈裟御前), the wife of his cousin, Minamoto no Wataru (源渡).

Depicted below: Moritou re-encountering Kesa, when he realises how beautiful she had gotten.

Unable to contain himself, he went to see Kinugawa-tono (衣川殿), Kesa's mother, demanding to meet Kesa, going as far as to threaten her with his sword.

Kesa wasn't willing to sacrifice her mother to save herself, so she agreed to meet Moritou. The samurai snuck in during the night and spent the night with her, but refused to leave when morning came.

Kesa then asked Moritou to kill his husband for her, telling him that she would wash Wataru's hair that night and get him drunk, giving Moritou the opportunity to kill him.

Moritou, overjoyed that Kesa had come to return his feelings, left to prepare for the night. Unbeknownst to him, Kesa would wet her own hair and sleep where Wataru usually slept.

Depicted below: Kesa-gozen preparing herself to take her husband's place.

Moritou snuck in at night and severed the head he thought belonged to Wataru. However, he had actually killed Kesa and she had sacrificed herself for her husband.

Motirou, in his grief, left home and became a Buddhist monk named Mongaku (文覚) to atone for his sin. It is as Mongaku that he would achieve his fame and warrant this legendry backstory.

It is said that a slug appears on his grave every year on the 9th day of the 7th month of the traditional lunisolar calendar, the same day Kesa-gozen was killed.

This slug is believed to be her soul, appearing to offer her forgiveness to Mongaku.

Ties to Kujiru

The name Kesa is obvisouly taken directly from Kesa-gozen, while Kujiru's existence as a slug youkai taken from the slug believed to be her soul given form.

Kesa-gozen's appearance in the Tale of the Heike, a story primarily focused on the Taira clan, may also explain Kujiru's appearance on the Youkai Alliance's side of the Heaven-Shadow War, which has heavy ties to the Taira of Mugenri.

As a side note, one might notice that Kujiru is actually pretty superficially inspired by Kesa-gozen only, when compared to a lot of the other characters.

My personal guess for this may be that JynX simply wanted a slug youkai in the first place, to drive home Garaiya's reference to Jiraiya (more on this someday). Then searched for a legend that they could've based another slug youkai on, hence.

Although it's just as likely that there's more to Kujiru that we simply aren't privy to yet, or that JynX simply didn't want to be so heavy handed this time.

Ending

And that's really all I have on Kujiru!

There's not too much we have on Kujiru yet, what with them just being a stage 2 character and having just debuted, but we'll definitely get to see more of them in BPoHC -GC-, so let's look forward to that!

There is technically more to say in regards to their ability and how it relates to them as a shikigami, but I think that's better suited for an analysis of "shikigami in Len'en", rather than on Kujiru as a character.

Nevertheless, this is certainly obscure enough, or so I personally think. I hope you enjoyed all the same~! :)

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

=================================

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

=============================

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Part 6

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[tinydooms]

I want to hear all the details of the haunted Carnahan home in England and how Rick gets involved in all the routines involved in caring and living with the haunted corners of the mansion. Like a weird english version of Island of the Aunts.

The Thing That Lives Behind the Radiator didn't always live behind the radiator. Once, a long time ago, it lived in a seaside mansion in a place that was warm and sunny and that knew how to take care of household spirits. Once, a long time ago, it received offerings of honey cakes and wine and in return it looked after the family. There was always a lot of family, but it liked them: babies who grew into funny toddling things who became weird little kids who grew into interesting young people who eventually brought forth babies of their own to begin the cycle again.

Then, one strange day, a Foreigner came to town. The family that lived in the big house was in a bad way. They needed money to send the Old Mother to hospital for her health, and so they sold many of their books and trappings, including the little cupboard altar in which the little god lived. And so the little god was brought to a cold and dreary place, wrapped in a packing crate lined with straw, and it was desperately unhappy. Its new home was also a mansion, but it was big and cold and dark, and for a long time, the god sulked in its forgotten altar. At least there is a fireplace nearby. But it is never really warm here, and there are no children allowed in the library, and the little god is desperately lonely and sad.

There are other spirits in the house, of course; there always are. There is a White Lady upstairs, not the ghost of a murdered woman but that of a girl who loved ghost stories and spooky things and who is spending her afterlife comfortably haunting her descendants, just because she can (the lunatic). There are other ghosts who are less hospitable towards the living, but the White Lady keeps them away and none of them seem to be interested in the little god in the library. There is also a mummy in the downstairs study, whose ka came to look at its former body's whereabouts, shook its head, and reincarnated as a goat famer in Indonesia. The little god, who now guards nothing and has no one, mostly ignores them all.

One day there is a big family blowup, and that is the first time it really pays attention to the foreigners who stole it away. The eldest son, Alexander, brings home a woman with dark hair and shining eyes and brown skin, and the Family is Not Having It. Unfortunately for them, Alexander does not care and neither does his new wife. And fortunately for the little god in the library, Salwa comes from a land that is hot, and the first thing they do is install radiators all over the house. The other spirits don't like that, but they do not have the same power as the god who lives in the fireplace, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like asserting itself. The radiators are installed in good working order, and the little god moves into the space behind it, just under the window.

Alexander and Salwa aren't at the house much, but when they are, they spend time in the library and the little god grows to love them. The couple love books and each other; they are always reading and learning and laughing and talking. One day they arrive with a baby in tow, a healthy boy, and the little god creeps out from behind the radiator to look at him in his basket. It is only a little god, but it blesses the child: you will live a long and happy life. The baby blinks sleepily up at it and coos.

Five years later, another baby is brought into the library with its parents and brother: a sweet baby girl. The little god blesses her, too, and sits and listens while Salwa reads stories aloud to her children. For the first time in many years, it feels soothed.

The little girl, Evelyn, is always in the library. From a young age little Evie loves books: the look of them, the feel of them, the smell of them, the stories they contain. She comes in, first toddling, then skipping, then with purpose, and sits at the table or before the fire and reads for hours. One day, when she is quite small, she drops a pencil: it rolls under the radiator and hits the little god. Evie drops down onto her belly to look and the two come face to face.

This little girl has curly dark hair and glowing green eyes. She resembles less the foreigners who stole the little god from its home than she does the people it originally loved. For a long moment the two of them stare at each other, and then little Evie smiles and fetches out a biscuit from her pinafore pocket and slides it under the radiator. The little god slides her back the pencil. From that day on, they are friends.

Evie can't actually see the little god, of course, especially the older she gets, but she always knows it is there. And she understands the concept of offerings: whenever she comes into the library, she always leaves a cup of tea and a biscuit or something under the radiator. The little god appreciates this and looks after the books in return. It looks after Jonathan, too, though it never quite has the same relationship with him as it does his sister. Jonathan doesn't always remember to leave offerings, but he greets the little god whenever he comes into the library ("Hello, old thing!") and that's good enough.

When the War comes and Jonathan enlists, the little god creeps out from behind the radiator and blesses its boy as he spends his last night in his bed. You will survive; you will come home. And Jonathan does come home, but he is not the same: he limps about on crutches and can't sleep without screaming. Sometimes he hides in the library for hours, all the lights out, and weeps quietly. The little god does what it can, but the horror is too deep in Jonathan's soul. This is a wound that only time can heal.

And then, one terrible day, news comes that Alexander and Salwa are gone, killed in a terrible accident, and it is both Evie and Jonathan who sit sobbing in the library. The little god sobs too. It had loved the parents as much as it loves the children.

And then Evie and Jonathan go away for a long time. The little god sits behind the library radiator and mourns for its missing family, for the love and laughter that no longer fill the house. It awaits the day when they return. Please let them return.

The White Lady bangs on the pipes, bored that no one is there to appreciate her antics. The ka of the mummy in the study comes back to visit its former body again, scoffs to find it still propped against the wall, and reincarnates again, this time as an Italian opera singer. And the little god waits.

Evie and Jonathan come back one fine spring day, and they bring with them a new person. The little god peeks out from behind the radiator at Evie's new husband as its family take tea. When Evie brings a cup and a crumpet to leave under the radiator ("We're back, old thing! I hope you didn't miss us too terribly."), Rick O'Connell looks surprised, but he doesn't say anything. He is a big man and a kind one, and as the little god grows used to him, it begins to love him as much as it loves Evelyn and Jonathan. Rick has the air of a man well-traveled, one who understands that there are many unexplained things in the world and who doesn't mind the presence of a little god behind the radiator. He even leaves offerings sometimes: peppermints and bits of chocolate and occasionally even a slug of brandy or whiskey. Rick has his own spirit who follows him about: a woman with red-blond hair and a bright Irish face who looks after him in the way the spirits of Alexander and Salwa look after Evie and Jonathan. Will you look after my son? she asks the little god one day, and that night, the little god goes upstairs and blesses the sleeping man. You will live a long life and be happy.

And one day, a baby is born upstairs, as Rick and Jonathan wait in the library. The little god is not fretful the way the men are; it has blessed Evelyn and her child and knows they will be fine. Later, when Rick has met his child and kissed his wife and cried with happiness, the little god is surprised when the big man rolls a cigar under the radiator for it.

"Thanks, pal," he says. "Thanks for looking after us."

The new baby is blond and chubby and the worst handful of a child the little god has seen since his mother, and the little god just adores him. It blesses the boy--you will always be safe--but recognizes that it might have to do more for this one than simply sit behind the radiator. And one evening Alex puts on a magical bracelet, and men from a far away land come to harm the family, and the little god climbs out of its place behind the radiator and into it's boy's pocket and is carried off on an adventure, but that is a story for another day.

[jingabitch]

To Love an Empress

SUMMARY: Despite the acrimonious beginning to your relationship, Yoongi is drawn to you.

PAIRING: emperor!yoongi x empress!reader

RATING: E

WARNINGS: smut | unprotected sex (they’re husband and wife and also this is a historical au so there are no condoms but be safe okay) | references to war | yoongi’s scar is discussed | yoongi kills a man (mentioned but not explicit) | secret admirer stuff

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

A/N: My final submission for the BTS Ghostie bingo, yay! This one fills the secret admirer tile. This fic is kind of based on Henry VII and Elizabeth of York’s early relationship, and inspired by The White Princess, so if some of the dialogue and scenes are similar, that’s why. 

Shoutout to my lovely betas @knjkitten and @yoongs-jeontae for helping me beta this! Banner by @jkeuphoriadreamland​ 💕 i’ve never had a banner on a fic before this is fun hehe

Min Yoongi was a hard man, and he knew it. He’d won his throne on the battlefield, running his sword through the old king and crowning himself right there on the blood-stained grass.

You knew it too, could never forget it when you looked at your husband. The scar on his face from an injury he’d sustained during the decisive battle for his crown; the memory of how coldly he’d treated you at the beginning; the baby growing inside you as a result of Yoongi’s insistence that you demonstrate your ability to provide him with heirs before he would marry you. As if he’d had a choice, when your bloodline was the cornerstone of his legitimacy.

After all the angry words and hostility between the two of you, he knew there was no chance you would forgive him. And yet, a part of him craved it. He saw the kindness you lavished on your ladies-in-waiting, the servants, and all the children running around the palace who were sons and daughters of the nobles and the army of servants working here. Was it so wrong of him to want just a little of that for himself? You were his wife, after all.

Yoongi was a warrior. He’d trained all his life to take control of the kingdom. War was all he knew.

Which made him, unfortunately, woefully inept when it came to wooing a lady, especially one so resistant to him. He’d relied on his looks before, but now that he had the scar on his face, it seemed that even that tool was no longer at his disposal. God knows you hated it.

With no one else to turn to, he asked his eunuch what he should do. At first, the portly man just blinked at him, confused. “She’s your wife, you don’t have to persuade her to warm your bed,” he pointed out.

Yoongi grimaced. “I know that,” he grumbled. “I want her to like me.”

Sambo snorted. “Should have thought about that before you made her ‘prove her fertility’ to you.”

Sulking, Yoongi got up and stormed away from his eunuch. Obviously, he knew that, and he wished that no one else did. It wasn’t like him to force a lady like that, but tensions had been running high at the time and he hadn’t trusted a woman from the house of L/n. You must have run to your lady-in-waiting and cried to her when it was over, because Sambo had gotten quite the shelling from her the next day.

Sambo, who’d quickly grown used to the antics of his master, just hurried along beside Yoongi. “Just give her something pretty,” he advised. “Women like that.”

Yoongi stopped short. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That’s a great idea,” he enthused. “You’re useful for once, Sambo,” he praised his eunuch.

Sambo rolled his eyes to hide his pleased smile. “You’d think a grown man would know something like that,” he jibed. “Taking love advice from someone who can’t even perform must be a new low for you.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi waved off the insult. “I’ll get her a nice hairpin,” he decided. “But don’t tell her it’s from me.” He didn’t want you throwing it out in disgust.

“She’s obviously going to know,” Sambo pointed out. “There is no man in Joseon suicidal enough to woo the empress. That’s treason.”

Frowning, Yoongi snapped, “Just do it,” before stalking back into his room with a huff and shutting the door in Sambo’s face. The eunuch really didn’t need to rain on his parade like that, even if he was probably right. Hopefully you wouldn’t immediately come to the conclusion that it was him. It wasn’t just that he was afraid you’d throw out a gift from him—he wanted to make you smile. Not because you were bound to him and might as well exhibit some fondness towards your husband, but because he was really, truly capable of making you happy.

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

Pregnancy had been difficult for you so far. Without your mother around, you were left to go through it by yourself. At least Ling, your personal servant-turned-lady-in-waiting, was here with you. You’d been together since you were a child and she was a young teen, and she was like a sister to you.

The morning sickness was starting to fade, thankfully, but you still got nauseous sometimes, so Ling suggested that you have your breakfast in the courtyard to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine while the cleaners dusted and polished your quarters.

When you finally got back to your room after being bullied by Ling into taking a little walk – exercise was good for the baby, she insisted – there was a hairpin lying on your table, next to the novel you’d been reading. Curiously, you knelt down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” you asked Ling, who was trailing a few steps behind you.

“It’s a hairpin, milady,” she responded somewhat cluelessly.

“Yes,” you said patiently, “but why is it here? I’ve never seen this before.” Looking more closely at it, you turned it over a few times in your hand. It truly was pretty, a delicate gold phoenix carved into the end of the pin, decorated with pink flowers and milky jade balls around the base of the phoenix.

Sitting down on the other side of the table, Ling pulled your hand holding the pin closer to her so she could examine it too. “I don’t know, but it’s so pretty,” she sighed. “Maybe you have a secret admirer,” she giggled.

“Yes, the pregnant empress has a secret admirer,” you said drolly. Everything about your existence, from the gilded cage you were trapped in, to your marriage to the most powerful man in Joseon, to the heir you were carrying in you, screamed that you were taken, owned by a man. And not just any man, of course, but the one whose wife was strictly, on pain of death, off-limits.

“Well, you never know,” Ling said lightly. “Just take it for what it is,” she advised. “Someone wants to make you happy!”

“All right,” you accepted skeptically, but you couldn’t quite stop the smile from stealing across your face. After living as a political pawn for so many years because of your family and giving up everything for the man who’d killed your uncle, it did feel nice to think that there was someone out there who liked you for you.

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

You weren’t stupid, of course. You had considered that it was your husband who’d had the pin sent to you. It made sense, after all – he was the only man in the whole of Joseon who could do something like that. It didn’t take long for you to disabuse yourself of that notion, however. Yoongi hated you, considered you the snake in his midst. Taking a L/n bride after defeating the House of L/n was the last thing he’d wanted to do, and he’d made that abundantly clear when you met. Hell, even before that, when he’d sent a platoon to your residence in the countryside to retrieve you.

Your first interaction with the new emperor had gone woefully poorly, with cruel words said on both sides.

As angry and resentful as you were about being claimed as his wife, you weren’t in any mood to be supplicant to the new emperor. When they brought you to meet him, in an admittedly charming gazebo, you knelt without bowing or greeting him, refusing to even look straight at him.

“Are you just going to sulk, then?” he drawled, and you barely resisted the urge to strangle him with your bare hands.

“We’ve done nothing right; surely you aren’t insisting that we follow tradition now?” you replied, your light tone doing little to hide your displeasure. This was all wrong, you knew. Despite Ling hovering just out of earshot keeping a watchful eye on things, you knew that your reputation was at stake simply from meeting the emperor alone before you were married.

It was unusual for you to enter the palace knowing that you were to be the empress, too. Usually the empress dowager chose her son’s bride, based on a series of tests that demonstrated her suitability for the throne. But, you knew, you were already the best candidate, purely based on your bloodlines.

Yoongi leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Of course not,” he said, and his low, dangerous voice caused your breath to catch as you jerked your head forward to look at him properly for the first time. You couldn’t help but gasp at the long scab slicing through his eye. Catching you staring at it, he smiled bitterly.

“Are you afraid of your fiancé?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you hissed. “Just horrified that I have to lie with a disfigured monster.”

You remembered the way he’d jerked back, as if scalded. Okay, so you weren’t blameless in the current state of affairs you found yourself in, this hateful sham of a marriage that neither of you enjoyed. Still, given the acrimonious relationship you had with your husband, it seemed less than likely that he was your secret admirer.

“Poor, pitiful L/n Y/n,” he responded coldly. “Why don’t we get it over with, then?”

“What?!” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth.

He smiled at you coldly. “I will not repeat the mistakes of previous emperors,” he informed you, and your lips pursed in displeasure, recognizing his comment for the jibe that it was – most of the previous emperors in the history of the kingdom had been your ancestors. “Having no legitimate heir is a recipe for disaster.”

Despite your best attempts to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your reaction, you couldn’t hold back the blanch. Smirking in satisfaction at having gotten back at you for the cruel insult, he continued, “We will be wed only when you are pregnant.”

Really, after all was said and done, it was no wonder that you and your husband despised each other.

Still, maybe there was a part of you that wished the pin had come from him. It wasn’t that you were in love with Yoongi or something insipid like that, it was just… you were kind of lonely here in the palace, with hardly anyone you knew around. The only person you’d been allowed to bring with you was Ling, because she’d been your servant for so long.

It would be nice to feel, just once more in your life, like you had a friend around you.

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

As your pregnancy progressed, you grew increasingly miserable and annoyed, and your secret admirer stepped up his efforts to cheer you up. From pretty flowers on your pillow to new books when you finished your existing ones, even pretty ribbons and once, a bag of a rare tea that was supposed to alleviate morning sickness, this mysterious individual was showing you more care than your own husband.

You rarely saw Yoongi these days, since he was usually busy in the throne hall, setting the country back to rights. Being a woman, you never got to attend the morning meetings and reading of the petitions, but from what you heard, Yoongi wasn’t the most competent politician. It frustrated you to no end – you were the daughter and niece of the past two emperors, had grown up learning about politics, history and economics, and yet your role was basically being a baby incubator while your inexperienced husband was led down all sorts of rabbit holes as the ministers tried to take advantage of the situation to fatten their own coffers.

The last straw came when you heard of a proposed tax increase for the peasants, purportedly to shore up the kingdom’s defenses. You knew Minister Su, who was in charge of defense, was greedy and corrupt, but very eloquent and had many supporters among the cabinet. Overcoming your own reluctance to speak to your husband directly, you stormed into his private quarters one evening, while he was relaxing with a drink.

“Get out,” you ordered his eunuch, who was kneeling by his side.

Sambo looked over at Yoongi, who nodded at him. Once the doors slid shut behind the eunuch, you knelt in front of your husband. Since you were about six months pregnant now, it was difficult for you to maneuver, but you managed. “I need to talk to you,” you told him.

“I gathered that,” he said dryly. “Could this not wait for a more appropriate audience?”

“No,” you rejected him flatly. “I heard that you’re considering a new tax on the peasants.”

“That’s none of your business.” He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You should reject the tax proposal, Your Grace,” you said quietly.

“I said, that’s none of your business,” he thundered, slamming his fist down on the table.

You winced, but continued, undeterred. “Minister Su does not have the best interests of the kingdom in mind, Your Grace. There was a bad harvest this year, and the people will not stand for a tax now, especially when they are already so tired of conflict.”

It seemed that bringing up the civil war that had just been fought between Yoongi and your uncle was a bad idea, as he looked even more furious. He sucked in a deep breath to yell at you, but you quickly continued, cutting him off before he could start.

“Your reign is still new, Your Grace, and the people are still unsure about you. Now is the time for generosity, so that they learn to love you.”

“Why does a L/n empress care about whether the people love me? You and your family hate me; you fought a war against me,” he scoffed, leaning back on his hands in a casual pose to show just how little he cared.

Bristling indignantly, you bit back, “You raised an army against my family! You are the usurper! Make no mistake of it, sir, I advise you not because of any attachment to you, but because I care about this kingdom.”

At that, some of the fire left him. “Everyone claims to care about the kingdom, but all they really care about is themselves. Do you think I don’t know that my ministers are watching me, waiting to take advantage? That people are plotting against me as we speak?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s what it means to be the emperor. My father had the same thing, as did my uncle – from you.” Maybe goading him wasn’t the best thing to do right now, but you were pregnant, uncomfortable and irritated.

“Then how do I know that I can trust you?” he retorted, his frustration with the current situation bleeding through his voice.

You were going to murder this man, you swore. He wouldn’t need to wait for any plot coming from outside the palace walls. How could someone be capable enough to enact a coup against the emperor, and yet so frustratingly dim when it came to politics?

“Because my wagon is tied to yours, you idiot. I am your empress now before I am a L/n woman, and this child I carry inside me is a Min child. Do you think that if your rule fails, I can just go home, and all will be well for me? I will be executed together with you, and so will our child.”

That seemed to shut him up. “I’ll think about it,” he finally allowed grudgingly.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing with your forehead pressed to the back of your palms over the floor.

After you’d left, Yoongi thought about how that was the first time you’d bowed to him. It seemed there was much he didn’t know about his wife.

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

The next afternoon, you heard from Ling that the tax on the peasants had been rejected, and a jeweled comb was delivered to your room. This particular gift came directly from Sambo, so you knew that it was from Yoongi, and you accepted it for the apology that it was.

Two weeks later, proof of Minister Su’s corruption and embezzlement came to light, and he was sent into exile. You might have felt slightly smug about it, since you’d hated Minister Su ever since your own father was the emperor, but mostly you felt a little bad for Yoongi, having to deal with something like that so soon after coming to power.

That same night, Yoongi invited you to have dinner with him. Well, it was more like an order, because you weren’t in any position to turn down the emperor, but Ling was excited nonetheless as she got you ready, helping you into your pretty jeogori and braiding your hair into an elaborate bun.

“I’m so happy for you,” she gushed as she stood in front of you, tying the jeogori. “This could be the start of a new relationship between the two of you!”

“You know I can’t get more pregnant, right?” you asked drolly, raising a brow. In fact, you’d pretty much expected him to leave you alone for the rest of the pregnancy and only call on you once you were recovered enough to perform your conjugal duties once more.

“Oh, hush,” she giggled. “I’m sure he wants to see how you’re doing. You are carrying his heir, after all.”

“Sure, that’s me,” you muttered. “The incubator.”

“Be nice,” she admonished. “You want him to like you, so that he’ll give you more privileges. When your son becomes emperor, then you can swan around all day like the crone.” Suffice it to say, neither of you liked your mother-in-law that much.

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m just uncomfortable all the time.” Entering your third trimester of pregnancy, you were having trouble standing around and kneeling on the ground? Impossible. You’d had a table and chair moved into your room so that you could sit comfortably, but as far as you knew, Yoongi still sat on the ground for most of the day.

Ling didn’t know about your late-night meeting with the emperor a few weeks prior, but you wondered if this dinner had something to do with that.

In Yoongi’s room, something similar was happening, as Sambo fussed over his master’s robes.

“Sambo, enough,” Yoongi sighed. “I don’t have to look nice; she’s already my wife.”

Sambo scoffed. “I said the same thing to you about sending her those gifts, but you insisted then too.”

Yoongi glared at his eunuch without saying anything, mostly because he had no argument against that. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the man; he’d done nothing but tease him about his crush since he found out.

Thankfully, your arrival cut Sambo’s fussing short – yet another thing he had to be grateful to you for, he supposed. It stung a little that his wife apparently knew more about politics than he did, but you seemed to want to help him, so there was that.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, bowing slightly.

“Good evening,” he responded. “Please, sit,” he invited, gesturing towards the table he had brought into his room just for this. He remembered how much you’d struggled with kneeling on the ground, and then getting up, the last time you’d come to visit him, and thought that this would make it easier for you.

You’d seen the table as soon as you entered the room, of course – it was kind of hard to miss, since the room was mostly empty. Accepting his offer with a gracious smile, you sat yourself down and clasped your hands together demurely in your lap. Yoongi sat across from you and nodded at the servant standing in the corner, and that was the signal for the food to start coming in.

To be honest, you’d expected to see Yoongi’s favourite dishes being served tonight, since everything at your wedding banquet had been his favourite foods, so you were pleasantly surprised to note that it was the food you’d been repeatedly requesting due to your cravings instead.

When the servants left, closing the doors after them, Yoongi spoke. “Please eat.” He gestured at the spread, and you acquiesced, picking up your chopsticks.

“Thank you for the advice,” he started.

The food you were holding with your chopsticks fell back onto your bowl of rice as your hand went limp in shock. “Wh-what?” Of all the things he could have said, that was the one you’d been expecting the least. In all honesty, you’d expected something more like admonishment for interfering – and a lack of other punishment that would serve as tacit acknowledgement that you’d been right. It was how your father had been with your mother.

To be fair, it looked like it was costing him dearly to thank you. “You were right about the tax,” he ground out.

“Oh…” You recovered quickly and nodded, graciously accepting his thanks.

“But don’t make a habit of interfering,” he continued. Right… so there was a catch, after all.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not,” you said sarcastically. “I’m just the brainless baby incubator, after all. It’s not like I grew up here, or have any knowledge and experience of palace politics, or anything of the sort.”

“You’re a woman—” he thundered, slamming his chopsticks down on the table.

“I am your empress,” you cut him off. “You insisted on marrying me precisely because of my bloodline, so I will not be sidelined, especially when we both know you could use all the help you can get!”

“Help that I can get from my advisors,” he huffed.

“One of your ministers was literally just exiled for corruption, so I don’t know why you want to throw in your lot with them, but sure.” You rolled your eyes. “Now, if that was all, I think I can take my meal in my own quarters tonight.”

Unfortunately, your dramatic exit was foiled by how much you struggled to get out of your seat. Biting back his smile at how cute you looked with your belly, Yoongi leapt to your aid – you were, after all, still his wife and carrying his child, so it was the least he could do.

You pinned him with a glare as he got up to assist you, but were left with no choice but to accept, holding on to his proffered arm and letting him basically hoist you up. “If you need anything…” he started, looking slightly contrite.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” you said. “I might be ‘just a woman’ –” your tone made it clear that you were mocking him, and he had the grace to look slightly chagrined – “but I am the empress, and I am carrying the heir to Joseon, so I get everything I ask for.”

“Good, that’s good…” he looked slightly shifty now, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He’d been acting like a bit of a dick, but to be fair, you supposed, it wasn’t like his attitude was uncommon. With Ling’s reminder ringing in your ears, you took his hand and brought it to the swell of your belly. Your child was strong and healthy, and even through the layers of your clothes Yoongi could feel the flutter of kicks.

“Wow…” he looked entranced, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Your child had been conceived in hatred and anger, but you were determined that you would not raise him in that environment. No, he would know only love. You were sure of it.

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

Even though the dinner hadn’t gone according to plan, it was still somewhat of a shift in your relationship with your husband. Now when your paths crossed, he smiled at you instead of just walking by stonily.

The gifts from your secret admirer continued too, which made things kind of confusing for you. On the one hand, you were trying to make this thing with your husband work, if only so that your child could grow up in a positive environment. It was difficult enough growing up in the palace, something you were keenly aware of.

And yet, the continued attention from this unknown person was starting to tug at your heartstrings. You hardly knew who it was but being shown kindness without any ulterior motive was certainly enough for you to think fondly of your secret admirer. He didn’t send gifts that often, usually once every other week or so, but each one brought a smile to your face. Sometimes it was your favourite flower, or a snack from another part of the world, or a cute trinket from the market, but all of them were equally dear to you.

The fluttering feeling that you got in your chest when you saw that he’d left you another gift was somewhat tempered by the guilt over the whole situation. Were you allowed to enjoy this attention? You looked furtively around, slightly worried that someone was going to knock the Japanese cakes out of your hand.

“You know,” Sambo said, standing next to Yoongi, who was peering at you from his hidden position behind a wall, “Some of your subjects might find it unseemly for their emperor to spend his days spying on his wife.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled, although the words had no heat to them, given how distracted he currently was. He hoped you liked the cakes.

“If you want to spend time with her, you can just ask, you know,” Sambo pointed out. “Haven’t you two been getting along better lately?”

“She still gets annoyed at me every time,” he sighed. “I don’t want to upset her, she looks miserable enough as is.”

Sambo, watching you rub the small of your back as Ling fussed over you, had to agree. At eight months pregnant, you looked fit to pop. “Well, she’ll give birth soon, and then things will be better,” he said, patting the emperor on the back. “You really need to be more discreet, though. She can tell it’s you from a mile away.”

Yoongi looked over at Sambo and scowled. “No way,” he denied.

“Really? So there are lots of men walking around decked out in the emperor’s robes, and have blonde hair, then?”

“Fine.” Yoongi sulked. “Let’s go, then.”

“You know you have a bunch of petitions to review, right?”

“I get it.”

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

To put it mildly, labour sucked. But at the end of it, you had a beautiful little boy, handed to you wrapped in a blanket. “Wow,” you marveled at your son, stroking his cheek with your thumb as you cuddled him close. Your own dear boy. Cradling him in your arms, it hardly mattered that he was a Min, that he represented the end of your house on the throne. Your son was all that mattered now.

Looking up, you saw Yoongi hovering by the entrance to the room, looking on hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure if he would be welcome. The idea was laughable to you – he was the emperor, there was nowhere he couldn’t go. You remembered your own father striding around as if he owned the place, because he did. No matter how fond he’d been of your mother, it had always been clear in the way he acted that he knew he was the boss. At best, she was a favoured subordinate.

You could see some of that attitude in Yoongi, and you accepted it – that was how men were, after all. But sometimes, peeking through the haughty exterior, you caught glimpses of someone kind and considerate. Someone you could grow fond of.

“Come in and meet him,” you invited.

As he came closer, he breathed, “It’s a boy?” His voice was slightly choked.

Smiling, you nodded. He knelt next to you and peered into the blanket, staring down at his son for the first time. Then he turned his head slightly to regard you. “You look beautiful,” he complimented, and you looked up, surprised. You didn’t know exactly what you looked like, but you were sure you were a mess after labour and childbirth. Your hair was a matted, sweaty mess, and you were dressed simply, in a cotton underdress.

Still, from the way he watched you holding the baby, you could have been dressed in the most beautiful of clothes and jewels.

“Do you want to hold him?” you asked, and his eyes lit up.

“Can I?” he asked. You nodded, passing the little bundle over to him.

“My son,” he said softly, leaning his head down to get closer to the baby. “Min Man-bok.” The name had been chosen by the astrologers, who said it would bring him great fortune throughout his life. You hoped it was true. This boy would grow up to be the emperor that united the warring houses of Min and L/n, and finally put an end to all the senseless violence that had stolen the lives of your brothers, and later, your uncle.

As you watched them – your husband and your son – you felt a sense of contentment like you’d never known before. In that moment, it hardly mattered that they were the emperor and the crown prince, that the weight of the kingdom rested upon your baby’s tiny shoulders. For that brief window, they could just be… yours.

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

The birth of your son changed everything. The gifts that had once been so dear to you because they meant that someone was out there thinking of you now seemed almost uncomfortable, like unwanted attention that threatened the security of your family. You knew it was ridiculous – after all, the giver of said gifts had been quietly doing so for months, never trying to push his luck or making his identity known to you.

Still, though, as you became closer to your husband, that nagging feeling that you were doing something wrong wouldn’t leave you. Thankfully, the gifts seemed to dry up, and you wondered if your anonymous admirer was really that astute. Whoever he was, you owed him your gratitude. He’d known when to start, and, it seemed, just when to stop.

In actuality, Yoongi had just been too busy to think about sending the gifts. Having a son took up much of the time that he wasn’t already spending governing, which had also increased in the past month or so. There was so much entertaining to do, as the lords and ladies of the land came to express their fealty to the crown prince, and as Yoongi made ever more ambitious diplomatic alliances with other kingdoms now that his reign was secured with the birth of his son.

In whatever spare time he had, he was constantly hanging around you and Man-bok, fawning over his son and enjoying your company. Despite your confinement, you thwarted the rules by sitting right outside your door to get a little sun and fresh air, often holding your son while you did so. It was a beautiful sight, one he wanted to continue to drink in for the rest of his days.

It was no surprise, therefore, that his priority wasn’t sending cute gifts to you anonymously, since he was always around you. When your confinement finally ended, he threw a little two-person party, ordering the kitchen to make all of the food you’d been craving since you were pregnant that had been off-limits for you, including your old favourites. He even managed to get the cook from your country estate into the palace, to make your childhood favourite.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said at the end of it, resisting the urge to lean back on your hands to give your stomach more space.

“Thank you,” he countered. “I am forever in your debt.”

“It was my duty,” you demurred. It was the truth – you’d always known that it would be your job to bring heirs to your husband.

“Still.” There was a beat of silence as a servant rushed to fill your cups with rice wine. He lifted his cup to toast you. “You have brought new hope to this kingdom. An emperor who will unite the houses of Min and L/n.”

“I thought our marriage accomplished that,” you giggled. You might have had too much alcohol tonight, after almost a year of not having any.

“You really think so?” he breathed, looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky and told him they were for him.

“Yoongi…” It was the first time you’d called him by name. In your defense, the open, vulnerable way he was looking at you made it difficult to remember that he was a warrior king, despite the scar on his face that attested to his experience fighting a war. “Of course, Your Grace.” You recovered from your slip quickly, and you flushed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t remember it.

Of course, that was a doomed wish. He’d committed it to memory, the sound of your precious voice speaking his name, and in that almost fond and tender tone, too. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and knew he was done for.

When he left your quarters that night after dinner, he barely waited till he’d descended the steps to pump his fist in the air. That was the most successful interaction you’d had with him to date, not counting when Man-bok was born, of course, since he was pretty sure you were so exhausted you couldn’t snipe at him if you tried then.

“Your Grace!” Sambo, walking a step behind him, sounded scandalized.

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

“So, tonight went well,” Ling prompted as she helped you get ready for bed. You sat in front of her, letting her take the pins out of your hair and sighing in relief. Your updo was often twisted so tightly it pulled on your scalp, and the giant metal pins hurt, to say the least.

“How would you know that?” you murmured, trying to keep a straight face. Ling would never let you live this down if you confessed to her just how much you enjoyed the company of your husband these days. Not after you’d screamed so loudly and for so long about how you hated him and didn’t ever want him to touch you.

In your defense, he’d really been a nightmare to live with at the beginning, cold and angry, mistrustful of your intentions. Not that he’d had any reason to trust you based on the way you’d treated him. You still cringed to think of the angry, cruel words that had been exchanged between you. You’d mocked the scar on his face from your uncle, the previous emperor, and he’d taken pleasure in describing the way he ran his sword through him in exchange. You’d laughed at his tenuous grip on the throne, and he’d—

Well. Suffice it to say, both of you had moved past that.

Ling reached over you to shift the mirror so that you could see your own face in it. “You’ve always had a shitty poker face, milady,” she explained. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

You sighed. “I knew I should have gotten different servants when I came,” you responded without any heat.

“Please, as if you have the patience to teach someone else just how you like your morning routine,” Ling scoffed, recognizing your teasing for what it was. Finally removing the last pin from your hair, she smoothed her hands over it as it tumbled down your back, then picked up the brush to comb through it.

“You’re right. I guess I’m stuck with you,” you responded, tilting the mirror slightly so you could look at Ling in it.

“Whatever. Stop trying to change the subject,” Ling ordered. “What happened tonight? You looked so happy when he left, and he could barely hold back his grin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not that,” you said defensively. “I’m barely even recovered from giving birth; I’m hardly ready for more.”

“All right,” Ling conceded, though you could tell from her tone that she was still amused. Belatedly, you realised that your defense hadn’t been about how you felt about your husband at all. “Have a good night, milady.”

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

Having a son changed everything. You knew, perhaps better than anyone else, save your brothers, the dangers that came with being an heir to the throne, and it worried you to pieces that his life would never be safe.

You’d told your husband before, completely unsympathetically, that this was what being the king would entail. Having people after you, coveting what was yours, always lurking in the shadows and waiting for a time to strike… the idea that your own son would be subject to the travails of being the emperor made you want to clutch him to your breast and never let him go.

Yoongi caught you in one of your moods one afternoon, sitting in the gazebo in your private gardens, leaning against a pillar as you rested your son against your thighs. You cooed at him as you played with his hands and feet, smiling as he laughed back at you, but the furrow of your brow gave you away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, sitting down next to you. It was rare for you two to be alone – Ling and Sambo were usually hanging around, and Man-bok’s nanny and wet nurse weren’t too far from the baby either. But you’d wanted a little time to bond with your son alone, so they were hanging out by the pond a small distance away. Ling had become friends with the nanny and nurse, and they were more than happy to have a little free time to gossip.

You picked up your infant son’s hand and used it to wave at him. “Hello, daddy,” you said in a high-pitched baby voice, and Yoongi smiled tenderly at the both of you, although you were still looking down at Man-bok and didn’t see it.

“Hello, my son,” he replied, leaning in to pick Man-bok up. You straightened his clothes a little as Yoongi stood the baby up on his lap, bouncing him a little. Yoongi was truly a remarkably involved father, especially for being the emperor.

“Yoongi, I’m worried about Man-bok,” you confessed in a small voice, looking up at your husband for the first time. Even the scar on his face now was a reminder of how difficult it was to be the emperor – Yoongi had been lucky to escape with just a disfigured face. He hadn’t even lost his vision.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi asked with a frown, turning the boy slightly in his grasp to inspect him. He looked healthy enough, but you never knew with babies, really.

“Nothing,” you rushed to reassure him. “It’s just that being the crown prince is dangerous, and being the emperor is even worse.” Your voice choked up as you explained. Saying the words out loud made them more real somehow, and you almost wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n…” Yoongi looked over at you, shifting Man-bok so that he was being held more securely against him. “Is this about your uncle?” At the beginning, he’d never thought much about the fact that you were related to the previous emperors, but now the fact that he’d basically murdered your uncle in cold blood hung over his head like the sword of Damocles.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.” The words stuck in his craw, but he forced himself to say them anyway. It was a lie, but if it was what you needed to feel better…

Instead of accepting his apology, you made a rude noise. “For what?” you asked.

“For your uncle…?” Confused now, Yoongi cocked his head at you and furrowed his brow.

“Why would you need to apologize? Of course you raised an army to take the throne. It was his fault for leaving potential heirs alive.” The nonchalant way you expressed that sentiment gave him pause. He’d never taken you for someone so cavalier about violence and death. “He did the same thing to my brothers.”

The way your lips tightened as you said it clued him in to the fact that that was what was really bothering you. Of course, your brothers. The two princes that your uncle had had imprisoned and then murdered to secure his rule. When your father had died, your uncle had been declared regent since the crown prince wasn’t old enough to rule, and he’d wasted no time cementing his own authority instead.

“Y/n…” You avoided his gaze, instead reaching for Man-bok. He relinquished the boy to you and you hugged him close, needing to feel your son’s warm, healthy body pressed against you. “I promise you,” he continued, his voice full of conviction. “Nothing will ever happen to our son. Not so long as I live and breathe.” Ducking in, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of Man-bok’s head.

“Really?” The faint hope in your voice made his heart clench. In all the time he’d spent alternately admiring your kindness and cursing your stubborn, know-it-all streak, he’d never seen the vulnerability that you were showing him now. In hindsight, it was silly that he hadn’t realized this earlier, but of course you were scarred from the civil conflict that had been raging. Your family was in the thick of it all, and as much as the men and women involved were royalty, they were also your blood relatives. Really, it was a wonder you’d turned out as normal as you had.

“I swear on my life.” He’d never meant anything as much as he did now.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Holding Man-bok with one hand, you reached for him with the other, sliding your arm along his shoulder to pull him close for a kiss. It was sweet and tender, a wonderful, perfectly fitting first kiss. His eyes fluttered shut as you drew close, wanting to savour the moment for as long as he could. Your lips were soft and you smelled like roses, just like the perfume he’d given you in secret.

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

It was highly unusual for the emperor to share a bed with his empress. Intimacy was carefully planned based on auspicious dates, and after the deed was done, you both got dressed and went your separate ways. You knew that, and yet you slipped into his room that night, after Man-bok’s 100-day celebration.

You’d gotten mostly undressed after the banquet ended, grateful to be out of your restrictive clothing. Man-bok was sleeping, of course, with his nanny, and you’d dismissed Ling too after she helped you out of the empress robes. Dressed in just your pajamas, you pulled a warm shawl over your shoulders and left your quarters. You just had so much pent-up energy from earlier, and you needed to talk to someone about it.

“Hey,” you said softly, slipping in through the doors just as Sambo was leaving. He gave you a sideways glance, but you ignored it.

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted, smiling at you. He too was in his pajamas, already in bed, the covers pooling around his waist as he sat up. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just…” You swallowed, feeling a little silly now. This could have waited till tomorrow. “I guess I didn’t want the night to be over,” you confessed. It had been so much fun tonight, getting to meet and talk to everyone. Your sisters and old friends had come to the palace, and Man-bok had been so cute in his little ceremonial robes.

“I get it,” he said. “Come sit.”

You came closer, sliding the shawl off your shoulders, and knelt next to his futon. Illuminated in the soft light of the lamp nearby, the long blonde hair he’d left to tumble over his shoulders seemed to glow softly. Your own hair had been hastily put back in a bun – a lady never left her rooms with her hair down, after all. It was nowhere near as intricate as anything Ling could do for you, but it sufficed.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked with a soft smile.

“You know I did,” you giggled, leaning closer.

“Yes, I saw you having a grand old time with your sisters,” he teased, fondness evident in his voice. Ever since the kiss you’d shared, your relationship had been evolving. Yoongi didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for what he’d done to your family – despite your dismissive attitude towards your uncle – but he was content with this. You letting your guard down around him, seeking him out and enjoying his company… it was more than he’d allowed himself to hope for.

“Oh, I haven’t seen them in over a year,” you enthused. “It was so nice to see them all again! Thank you for inviting them,” you said, more quietly now. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision, inviting the L/n clan tonight.” Despite everything, you knew he was still insecure about his rule.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at you, then noticed for the first time the soft light glinting off the hairpin you were wearing, the one he’d bought for you. “Oh, you’re wearing the pin! I was right, it does look good on you,” he complimented.

“You— what?” Your voice was shaky, your eyes wide as you reached up to wrap your fingers around the pin, and Yoongi realized that he’d fucked up.

Just to be sure that it was the right one, you pulled it from your hair, causing the long locks to tumble over your shoulders. Brushing it aside impatiently, you inspected the pin. Sure enough, it was the same one that you’d received almost a year ago, and you’d never found out who sent it to you.

“It was you?” The words trembled, fragile in the darkness of the room, barely there, like a wisp of smoke.

“I… yes.” Yoongi was watching you carefully, his hands held out placatingly in front of him.

“But why?” It felt like your mind was shutting down, unable to reconcile this new information. Back when you’d gotten this pin, you could barely stand to be in the same room as your husband. You hadn’t even started being friendly until after Man-bok was born. To know that he hadn’t felt the same way, that he’d been quietly watching you, thinking of you…

“I just wanted to make you smile,” he said honestly with a half shrug.

“Yoongi…” Your voice was choked up, and he was starting to panic now, not quite sure what he’d done wrong. Even if you hadn’t welcomed his advances, he hadn’t overstepped, right? All he’d wanted to do was make you less miserable, and now he was thinking that he would have been better off leaving you alone altogether.

“Is… is that okay?” The words were hesitant, Yoongi ducking slightly to look at your face.

Sniffling, you nodded, swiping at your tears impatiently so you could look at him clearly. In the dim, flickering light, Yoongi’s face was the most beautiful, dear thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Your eyes roamed his face, seeing him as if for the first time. He was so handsome, your husband, your emperor.

“Are you disappointed? Is that why you’re crying?” Worry crinkled Yoongi’s brow. He knew he wasn’t the greatest catch. Throne aside, his hair was a strange colour and the scar running dramatically across his face marred him permanently. He was short and quiet, awkward, caustic… The insecurities came roaring to the forefront.

“No,” you denied, grabbing his hands and bringing them to your chest. You shuffled closer yet, so that your forehead rested against his. “I’m not disappointed at all. Yoongi…” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your lips across his softly. “Thank you.” For caring about you even when you’d cursed him. For being by your side, even when you hadn’t known it. Just for being him.

Yoongi’s hand slipped from your grasp before reaching up to cup your face, his thumb running across your cheekbone tenderly. “You’re welcome.” He understood what you meant and responded in kind. “You give me more than you know, Y/n.”

The urge to give him more was rising within you. Holding onto his shoulders for balance, you swung one leg over his lap, so that you were straddling him. His hands went to your waist, supporting you and tugging you closer. “Y/n,” he groaned. “What do you want from me?”

Your response was unequivocal. “Everything.”

That was all the permission he needed. Yoongi’s hand travelled up from your waist to the back of your head, bringing you in for a fiery kiss. He poured all of the longing of the past months into it, his lips moving over yours with urgency. Try as you might to keep up, you couldn’t. You’d only had sex with him to conceive before, and it had always been a hasty, dispassionate affair. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your mouth, your palms resting lightly on his shoulders. You liked this, enjoyed the way his tongue slid against yours, but your body was rigid with uncertainty.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Yoongi broke away from the torrid kiss to ask. His hand on your waist rubbed you soothingly as he leaned back to take a good look at you.

“Uh, yeah, I…” You stammered. “This isn’t like before,” you finally said. All you knew of sex was what he’d shown you before, quick thrusts with his hands holding onto your thighs while you clutched the bedsheets and tried not to let your pain and discomfort show.

It was vague, but Yoongi knew what you meant, and he flushed with shame. “I’m going to make it up to you, okay?” he said, wrapping his arms around you and turning so that you were lowered onto the futon. His forearms bracketed your body, holding his weight up as he lowered his head for another kiss. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he slurred against your lips, one hand reaching for the tie of your shirt.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, your hands sliding around his waist as you held on to his clothes, tugging him closer to you. You felt the hard press of his erection against your belly, and were filled with curiosity. Before, you’d never really wanted to get close to it, and he’d basically just shoved it into you with little fanfare. You’d never even gotten a good look before.

Undoing the ties to his trousers, you slid your hand in, running your fingers hesitantly along his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and you jerked your hand back as if scalded.

“I’m sorry,” you started to apologize, and he backtracked immediately.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured you, nosing at your chin before he trailed kisses down your neck. You sighed and tilted your head, giving him more room.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes, really,” he said, sucking a little mark right over your collarbone. Emboldened now, you tried again, this time wrapping your hand softly around the shaft. His skin was soft here, and so smooth, but you could feel the steely hardness underneath.

“Ah, you’re so good,” he praised, and you started stroking him lightly, carefully.

“Allow me,” he breathed as he slid his hand down your body, groaning as he found the wetness between your legs. “So perfect for me,” he sighed as he started stroking your clit softly, watching you for your reaction.

You moaned luxuriantly, throwing your head back as your hips rocked. You’d never felt anything like this before, and if this was what sex could be, it was no wonder everyone seemed to like it so much. As you grew distracted with the pleasure suffusing your being, your hand slowed down and then stopped on his erection, but he didn’t mind. Coaxing the sighs and moans from you was more than enough for him.

“I’m going to put my finger in now,” he warned you, and your eyes opened in confusion.

“Why?” you wondered.

“I have to stretch you out, love, so you can take me easily,” he answered, leaning down to kiss you.

“You didn’t before,” you pointed out, and he grimaced.

“Please forget everything I did before,” he groaned, sounding very much like he was in pain. “None of it was right, and I want to show you how much I love you.”

“You—what?” That was new. You hadn’t expected it so soon, if ever.

“Oh, fuck.” He reared back at that and clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. “I didn’t mean to say that! Please ignore it,” he pleaded. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you put your clothes back on and ran out of there right now. What an embarrassing lapse of decorum.

To his surprise, you did none of that, instead wrapping your hands around his wrists and tugging them away from his face. “Did you mean it?”

“Y/n—” he whined, his face hot.

“Yoongi, please,” you said, and the tenderness in your voice gave him courage.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I don’t expect you to say it back! I know it’s too soon, and you might never feel that way about me, and that’s okay, really, I—”

You cut him off by tugging him close to you and kissing him. “I love you too,” you murmured softly when you separated.

“Really?” His voice was small, and you smiled as you nodded.

“Fuck, I’m going to make it all better,” he swore, his voice deepening into a growl towards the end. With a renewed sense of purpose, he pushed you back into the futon. His hands were everywhere as they stripped you of your clothing, and you felt a little exposed lying there bare for him to see. You were more than aware that your body hadn’t quite bounced back from pregnancy, and he’d never seen you completely nude anyway.

The sheer reverence reflected in his gaze did much to boost your confidence, though. “You’re so gorgeous,” he rasped, bending to tug a nipple into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching as he laved at it, his hand returning to its previous mission of getting you ready to take him. His thumb rolled over your clit gently as he slid his fingers into you, first one, then two, pumping slowly to loosen you up. The wet, lewd sound soon echoed through the room.

“Yoongi,” you breathed to get his attention, pushing his shirt over his shoulders. The tie had already come undone and the front was hanging rather uselessly by his sides, and it wasn’t difficult to remove it. Yoongi got the message, though, stripping himself off with far less fanfare than he’d done for you before coming back with a vengeance, as if the seconds he’d spent away from your body were too much to bear.

“Yoongi, c’mon,” you begged inarticulately, pulling his body down to yours by wrapping your arms and legs around him.

“Stop it,” he admonished. “I’m going to get you nice and ready for me. You have to be patient.” But you could see the way his jaw clenched.

“Yoongi, I want you to fuck me,” you whined, writhing on the mattress.

That certainly got his attention, and he looked back up at your face, seeing the expression of wild abandon painted across your features. Your eyes were shut and your mouth open as you lost yourself to the pleasure he was giving you, long hair spread across his pillow.

“You ruin me,” he accused as he withdrew his hand, using the slick coating his fingers to lube up his cock before he positioned it at your entrance. You moaned and arched, tightening your legs around him to draw him in deeper.

Before, when he’d done this, it had hurt. You’d been dry and he hadn’t put any effort into preparing you or making it a pleasurable experience for you, and you tensed up, remembering how unpleasant the experience had been before. You wanted to make him feel good, though, because he’d done the same for you, and it was that which motivated you to urge him into your body.

When he slid in, inch by glorious inch, contrary to your expectations you didn’t feel pain. No, there was a stretch, but it was intensely pleasurable, and you writhed against him. “Ah, Yoongi, it feels so good,” you gasped.

“Yeah?” he said, sucking marks into your neck. “You like that?” When he finally bottomed out, he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he tried to retain some control.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you moaned, wriggling and clenching down on him, desperate for more.

“Fuck, don’t move,” he gasped, his eyes wide as he clutched your hip. “I want to make this good for you.”

“It is good,” you insisted, ignoring his instructions.

“Y/n, you don’t even know,” he groaned, bracing himself as he started to move his hips. He was gentle at first, making sure that it didn’t hurt, but you were impatient, whining that you wanted more, and before he knew it, he was really going at it, one arm hooked around your leg to hold you open for him.

“Yoongi, yes, yes,” you exulted, thrilled. The expression on his face, his brow furrowed tightly, was endlessly exciting for you, and you loved the motion of his jaw as he clenched hard, focusing on pleasing you.

Adjusting his position, he started thrusting again, this time skidding against your g-spot with every thrust. To really seal the deal, he reached down to rub at your clit with his fingers, drinking your every sound and movement up eagerly. You raked your nails down his back as your legs tightened around him, clenching down on him hard as you came.

Faced with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him rhythmically, he couldn’t hold it together much longer, pressing his forehead into your neck as he reached his own orgasm, groaning as his hips stuttered sporadically.

When it was over, he slumped down over you, barely remembering to tilt his body at the last second so that he slid off you and onto the futon. “I love you,” he gasped, throwing one sweaty arm over your chest to drag you closer to him so he could press kisses over your face. “I love you so much.”

Smiling, you turned your head, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. “I love you too, Your Grace.” The teasing lilt in your voice as you called him that warmed his heart. Before he could say much more, however, you yawned and turned, slinging your arm around his waist. “Good night,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest.

“Good night.” He rested his hand on the back of your head. His empress, his wife. His love.

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

If you liked it, please leave a comment and/or reblog. It goes a lot further than a like. Thank you!

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part I

So I got a wonderful anon today telling me this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it in 4  parts here. I hope you enjoy it (Lily is very BAMF here but tbh so is James). Set during First Wizarding War...

James slammed the palms of his hands down on Dumbledore’s desk.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he said, his eyes a hot mess of emotions.

“Get your oafish hands off my desk, now!” Lily said, recovering from the initial shock almost immediately with a flash of anger.

“Your desk?” James said, taking his hands off the desk, nevertheless.

“I’m using it now, yes, I need to get these mission forms finished and signed before bringing them for filing in the Room of Requirement,” Lily said, looking back at James angrily. “What the hell is your problem, Potter?”

“My problem?” James was furious. “I’ll tell you what my problem is, Evans. My problem is that my bloody wife thought it sensible to visit Walburga Black, the same woman who thinks nothing of throwing a Crucio at her children, whose husband tried to kill Sirius, who detests muggleborns, who tried to – oh fucking hell, Lily! What the absolute, ever-living fuck possessed you?”

She had never seen him so angry. She folded her arms defensively and glared back, wondering how he had found out.

“I’ll tell you exactly what possessed me, Potter,” she said coldly. “My problem is my dickhead of a husband who nearly got himself thrown into Azkaban by the Blacks, but then thought it sensible to attend a Black family funeral, and to top it all, decided to call over to chat to Orion’s heir, as you do! Do I need to explain it further? What exactly was I meant to do? Let you read the letter and let you waltz back in there so that bitch could finish you off, once and for all?”

She was standing up now, and he couldn’t quite understand how someone so slender and uncommonly kind could look so intimidating and fierce within the space of a few seconds.

“That letter was addressed to me, damn it!” James said, his voice rising with irritation. “You had no right opening my post!”

“I don’t care!” Lily said, looking more agitated and feeling guilty. “If you think I would have let you just go there, you’re even more stupid than I gave you credit for!”

“You’re a muggleborn, Evans, fucking bloody fucking…” James’ words ran out as he waved his arm about with rage. “You could have been killed, do you understand me? Killed, damn it!”

“Yes, well, so could you, at least I have more sense! Remus and I knew what we were doing!” Lily shot back, feeling angrier by the second.

“You clearly didn’t, Evans! What you did was grossly irresponsible and wilfully sly! I don’t care what you say, you could have been killed, Evans, for fuck’s sake! When I see Moony, I’m going to kill him!”

James made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and slammed his fist against the wall. Damn it, he was furious and livid and scared out of his wits and fucking sick of this shit.

“Remus didn’t have any choice, I told him I was going, and he decided to come with me, surely a safer bet! Don’t you dare drag Remus into this!” Lily said.

“Don’t you dare, ever, ever go behind my back like that again, ever, do you hear me?” he shouted.

“You can scream all you like, Potter, you don’t get to tell me what to do!” Lily said, her voice rising angrily.

“Don’t you dare act like you’re the innocent one in this Evans, for fuck’s sake!” James said.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me, Potter!” Lily said. “Get out!”

Her voice was starting to wobble which made her even madder.

“You know what? Fine!” James said, gripping his wand tightly and watching as furious sparks flew from his wand tip. “If you want to tell yourself that this is my fault, if you want to lie to yourself so you can  – ugh! Lily, don’t you dare defend this!”

“I’m not listening to your ranting any longer!” Lily said, slamming the book shut and flinging her quills and parchment into her well-worn bag.

She marched past him, livid and upset and boiling with rage. They hadn’t spoken since. James had slept at his parents’ house for a while and now, with Sirius and Remus gone, James had taken to sleeping in his friends’ bedroom. He didn’t like leaving her with only Wormy for protection. They avoided each other at mealtimes. Peter had cringed and disappeared into the relative safety of his bedroom. There was simply no way he could win if he took sides. They were both still furious.

                                                        ***

“Looks like you swapped into an easy shift,” said Edgar Bones, loosening his collar and placing his cloak over his arm. “Nothing much happening, no handover.”

“Thanks,” said James curtly.

“Lily, James,” Edgar said, tipping his hat at them, sensing something was amiss but too polite to bring it up in conversation.

“Edgar,” said James.

“Bye, Edgar, see you soon,” Lily said, smiling at him half-heartedly.

“If it stays this quiet, I’m going to try going for a kip,” said Frank Longbottom, looking at the fireplace one last time and throwing a blanket over himself.

James nodded absent-mindedly, his left hand restlessly tapping on his thigh, shooting Lily fleeting glances when he knew she wasn’t watching. He hated whenever they fought, and this had been their worst row ever. The night stayed quiet, Lily dozed off on the armchair and James watched her. He was worried about her too, she looked pale and she seemed off her food for weeks now. It added to the leaden feeling of guilt he was carrying. It was his fault. He was right, he was damned well right, and he had nothing to apologise for, but he probably would. Because he knew what he was getting himself into when he married her, didn’t he? And wouldn’t he have done the exact same thing in her place, he told himself for the umpteenth time? He transfigured his jumper into a warm, thick blanket and placed it over her gently, doubling it up and kissing the top of her head tenderly. He watched the magical fairy lights on the tree twinkling merrily. He couldn’t have felt less Christmassy. He fell asleep eventually, having transfigured the rug into a scratchy blanket.

He was woken up by a loud shout emanating from the fireplace.

“You better get your sorry arses down here immediately! I’ve just intercepted intel that a couple of Death Eaters are planning an attack on a muggle school bus in the vicinity of Newcastleton!” Dedalus Diggle’s voice crackled.

“Where’s that?” said James, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Border between England and Scotland. Dumbledore has left a special portkey in his room that means you should be able to get anywhere, immediately. Hurry! There’s nobody else around.”

“Great!” grumbled Frank, sitting up reluctantly, but shoving his feet into his shoes without hesitation. “Typical Dumbledore, never around when you need him!”

“Get some water and rations and let’s go,” Lily said, standing up and sitting back down rather suddenly.

“Alright, Evans?” James said, with a concerned frown.

“Fine, just feeling a bit sick, probably need to eat something,” she said.

“Maybe you should stay behind?” James said.

“No!” Lily said, forcing herself to stand. “It’s fine. We can’t risk it. It’s children, James!”

James nodded immediately. He wanted to apologise, but not in front of Frank.

“Dedalus, can you try and contact a few of the others in case anyone is available to join us? We’ll be with you in a jiffy,” he said.

“No can do, I’ve also had word of another attack planned in Wales, I’m trying to get in touch with Moody as we speak!”

“Got it,” said Lily, looking at Frank and James. “Don’t worry, we’re on it!”

                                                         ***

“This place gives me the creeps,” said James, peering up at the tall trees.

The air felt thick and heavy, the branches seemed to vie with each other to block out the sunlight, suffocating. Thick moss, grey and faded, clung to everything, dried twigs and branches snapped loudly beneath their feet, disturbing the numerous birds whose harsh cries filled the air, as though spying on them, he thought, watching their acrobatic flight.

“Jackdaws,” he said quietly, moving closer to Lily.

Lily gave him a quizzical look.

“That’s their call - a short, loud, ‘kya’ sound, and they have distinctive, beady white eyes,” he added.

“Is there anything you guys don’t know?” grumbled Frank, shooting James a friendly grin.

“Nope,” James grinned back.

He moved closer to Lily, protectively, feeling a threat in the fabric of the forest, ancient memories, secret and forbidding. He had transfigured the portkey into a muggle leather bracelet, insignificant and worthless to any potential Death-Eaters, which he had placed on Lily’s wrist despite her protestations.

“They must be here somewhere,” Frank whispered, holding his wand aloft. “If we just keep walking, we’ll increase the chances of them seeing us.”

“Let’s split up, I’ll hide in there,” Lily said, pointing to a decrepit, large pine, whose gnarly trunk was rotting and held space for one person. “You two get on higher ground. We can all see the road from here. If you spot anything dangerous, send your signal.”

James’ was an owl hooting, Lily’s was the snort of a frightened deer, Frank’s was the harsh screech of a magpie.

“Alright,” James said, turning to look at Lily, feeling awkward and unsure. “Take care, please.”

“You too,” Lily said, her face unreadable.

“I’m glad Alice isn’t on call today,” Frank whispered after a pause, as they moved on carefully. “We just found out she’s pregnant. Bit of a shock really. Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!”

He looked excited and pleased.

“Frank!” said James. “Wow, that’s… that’s brave of you, and rather wonderful news.”

He didn’t know what to say.

He stopped short.

Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!

The night of Sirius’ twentieth Birthday. They had both forgotten to cast a contraceptive charm. Could that explain…?

“Frank, I forgot something, I need to run back to Lily, go ahead!” James said.

“You okay?” Frank said, seeing James’ face turn grey.

But he was already gone.

                                                       ***

“Lily!” James said, catching his breath.

“What is it?” Lily said, wand ready to shoot.

“Lily, have you done a pregnancy charm?”

“A what?”

“To see if you’re pregnant?”

“No, why?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Understanding dawned on her.

“James,” said Lily, her green eyes searching his anxiously.

“Let me,” James whispered, taking hold of his wife’s slender wrist and turning her palm upwards, he pointed his wand tip at her pulse point. “Gravidam!”

They both watched as James’ wand tip glowed green.

“Fuck,” he said hoarsely, staring at her.

“What does that mean, James?” Lily said.

“It means… it means you’re pregnant,” James said, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Fucking bloody fucking…”

Lily’s eyes were wide as his words sank in. As his reaction sank in. She turned away from him and swiped hastily at the tears that fell down her cheeks silently.

“We need to…” James said urgently. “Fucking Merlin… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Lily’s voice broke as she spoke, her lower lip trembling. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean this to happen now, God I really didn’t mean this to… I understand if that’s how you feel, James, but I-“

“What?” James said, turning her around to face him and taking her face in his hands tenderly. “Lily, Merlin, I don’t mean –“

The screech of a magpie rent the air and they both jumped.

“Incarcerous!” numerous voices shouted, as thick ropes coiled themselves swiftly around them, James’ wand dropping to the floor.

“Expelliarmus!” a recognisable voice added, James’ wand flying through the air. “Where’s the other one’s wand?”

“Mulciber,” James said, the blood draining from his face.

“I said, where’s your wand, bitch?” Mulciber said, grabbing Lily by the throat.

“I dropped it earlier on,” Lily rasped, staring back at him defiantly. “I can’t find it.”

“Accio Lily Evans’ wand!” Mulciber ordered, pointing his wand at Lily.

Lily’s wand flew out of the thicket behind them. Mulciber leered at Lily.

“Grab hold of them and set anti-apparition wards around them! And get them to de Soulis Castle, now!” Mulciber said to the other Death-Eaters who surrounded them. “The Dark Lord will be very disappointed to find that it isn’t Sirius Black we have captured, just a useless blood-traitor and a vile mudblood. The information we received must have been incorrect.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mulciber!” James sprang forwards in fury.

“Quiet!” Mulciber said, coming right up in front of Lily and grabbing hold of her Jacket collar. “Or she gets hurt.”

James swallowed.

I tried to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I tried to laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'Cause boys don't cry

                                                     ***

The weathered remains of the castle loomed, malevolent, as they crossed the bridge over the moat. Fragments of a tower emerged, the holes in its walls reminiscent of a skull. While the forest around it was dry and parched, wilting and unseasonably warm, as they neared the castle gates mist descended on them. The inside of the castle felt damp and cold. Much colder. Mulciber’s breath condensed in front of him as he spoke, frost clung to the corners of the walls, there were no windows in the great hall.

He had seen this room before… where?

The heavy double doors leading into the main banqueting hall swung open, and four men entered, none of their faces were masked.

“Villiers, Wilkes, Rosier, Snape,” said Mulciber, with a cold laugh. “Your very closest allies, I believe? I failed to retrieve the disowned Black heir, but I found these.”

Villiers and Wilkes giggled. Silence descended as another figure entered the room, the five men bowing immediately. Muciber pushed James and Lily forcefully and they fell forwards onto their knees. James watched as Voldemort approached slowly, with a gleeful expression. He zoned in on Snape, Snape who was watching Lily with terror on his face, before carefully schooling it into neutral.

The room.

McGonagall’s grim tones echoed in his mind.

“So, a group of Death Eaters, who appear to have captured Lily Evans, in an unidentified location?”

Divination class. His vision. He had forseen this.

“Lily,” he said quietly, speaking through his teeth. “Do you trust me to get us out?”

He was sure Voldemort could hear his heart pounding.

“If you have an idea, I’m all in,” Lily murmured, watching Voldemort as he drew nearer.

“Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and locked eyes with Severus Snape.

“Fuck you, Severus Snape! You absolute bastard! Stay the fuck away from my wife, do you hear? Don’t you dare go near her, you fucking piece of shit! I despise you, Snivellus! You fucking coward! Bastard cursed Death Eater! Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” James screamed.

[justmesadgirl]

Everything Comes Back To You - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Warnings: fluff, angst

Words: 2.8k

Summary: You and Fred used to date back in Hogwarts and even years later Fred can’t get over you. But it seems like you have moved on.

a/n:  English isn’t my first laungage so sorry for all the mistakes!

requests are open!

Fred let out a long groan as the sun shines brightly into his room. Eyes still closed he turns in his bed ready to wrap his long arms around your warm body and kiss you good morning but his arms find an empty space next to him. He opens his eyes confused as he pats the space next to him. The bed was cold but he thought he could still smell your perfume. Fred turns to lay on his back as he stares up at the ceiling. His fingers run through his hair as he lets out another groan, this time a lot more frustrated one.

It had been almost three years since you two broke up and it had been the same amount of time since Fred had last seen you. Even after all this time apart you were the only thing in his mind. He had a dream about you last night, again. You two were happily together and you were expecting your first child. How he wished it was true. He would do anything to be with you again.

He had tried to move on from you he really had. He had dated girls, there was nothing wrong with them but they weren’t you. Fred even tried to have one night stands but they never worked out. He couldn’t touch anyone's body, he felt dirty if he tried to, it felt like he was cheating on you

Fred slowly gets up from his bed and decides that getting ready and getting to work would be the best thing to do to get you out of his mind. The apartment over the shop was quiet, only thing that Fred could hear was Geroge’s snores from the other room. Making himself a cup of coffee before heading down to the shop. Restocking and doing the paperwork that needed to be done.

His mind wondering off to the past how when you were kids you were so close. Your and his parents were school friends so you spend a lot of time at the Burrow when you were a kid. Even if you were the same age as Ron, you and Fred were the closest. You always had something special between you two.

He remembers the Christmas before he and George would start at Hogwarts. How you and the Weasley kids had a snowball fight. Fred and you always paired up because he wouldn’t want to hurt you by hitting you with snowballs but that didn’t stop you from throwing them at him.

“Stop it y/n we are on the same side!” Fred yelled at you as you giggled at him. You had hit a snowball right in the back of his head

“I know I just wanted to see your reaction!” You tell him. Your bright smile made him smile. Even if he was 10 and you were 8 he knew that he loved you.

“We are going inside! Mum has hot chocolate!” George yells at you two. He, Ginny and Ron disappear inside the house which leaves you and Fred alone in the winter afternoon.

“Wanna go inside?” Fred asks you.

“Yes if you give me your marshmallows!” You tell your best friend.

“I always give my marshmallows to you y/n” Fred laughs as he takes your hand and you start walking. “One day you will be my wife y/n.” Fred tells matter of factly as you make it to the door.

“And you will be my husband but I will never kiss you!” You let him know and he makes a gagging sound.

“I will never kiss you either, that's disgusting.” Fred replies.

That changed after you had come to Hogwarts he had realised that maybe kissing you wouldn’t be so bad after all but he was still sure that you would be his wife one day. If he could he would go back in time when everything was easier and you were still in his life.

Fred shakes his head trying to come back to the present. He takes the last sip from now cold coffee as he looks around the shop. He loved this place, it always had been his and George’s dream to own their own joke shop nevertheless now he wasn’t so sure if this was what he really wanted in life. Fred shakes his head once again not wanting to think about the past any longer. Walking up to the front door of the shop as he unlocks the door and turns the closed sign to open.

His eyes wonder around Diagon Alley when his brown eyes find something that he hadn’t seen in a long time. A beautiful girl, no, a beautiful woman whose smile was still stuck in his mind. You were walking right outside of his shop with a bright smile on your lips as a handsome man talked with you. He had his hands wrapped around you like Fred used to have back at Hogwarts. It made him sad and happy at the same time. You looked happy but now you were happy with someone else and it all was his fault. All of this was his fault and only his. He was the one who pushed you away because he was scared that the distance would hurt you but now standing here looking at you years later broke him like nothing had before not even when he left you back at Hogwarts.

You had been dating for 3 years. The happiest three years of your lives. Fred made you the happiest that you ever had been. Even if Umbridge had made living hell out of Hogwarts. You were managing but you could see how hard it was on Fred and George so when the twins told you about their plan on leaving school early and starting a joke shop you were their biggest support. Even if it hurt to think that you had to be at school without the love of your life you wanted him to be happy and if leaving early meant that he was happy you would let him go. You could still write to each other and it was a couple of months until summer so you could spend your whole summer with him.

The twins were about to pull their last prank before leaving school when Fred pulled you away from others. He hugged you harder than he had ever before.

“Goodbye my love.” He whispers into your ear before bringing you into a kiss full of love and passion.

“Fred dear you are saying it like this is the last time we will see each other. It will be summer in a couple of months and we will be in each other's arms once again” you tell him with a sad smile. You would miss him terribly but soon enough you would be together again but the sad look that Fred gave you made you confused. “Right Fred?” You question your boyfriend when you see tears in his eyes. “What’s going on, love?” You ask him as you pull away from him.

“I... w-we need to break up, y/n.” He sounded so broken when he spoke. Making your heart ace at the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“What are you talking about Fred?” You ask him, feeling tears burning your eyes. You didn’t want to break up, you could make this work.

“It’s better for you. It will be too hard when I’m away and you still have a couple years left of school, darling.” He tried to take your hand in his but you pulled your arm away from him.

“No Fred. We can make this work! Like we’ve talked!” You raise your voice at him. He was being so selfish. “Do you not love me anymore?” You had to question his love towards you.

“Of course I love you! More than anything in this world!” Now Fred was raising his voice. How could you think that he didn’t love you. He loved you so much that he was ready to let you go so you could be happy.

“Then why in the Merlin would you want to break up? I love you and you love me so we stay together!” You tell him angrily, tears running down your cheeks.

“My love you know this is the best thing to do.” He really believed that it was the right thing that he was doing. Before you could reply to him George ran up to you two.

“Fred we need to leave now!” George yelled as he started pulling his twin away from his lover.

That was the last time you two saw each other. The hurt look on your face was burned into Fred's mind, it hunted his nightmares to this day.

Fred pulled his eyes from you as you and your lover disappeared from his view. How he missed you. He had asked his siblings about you but Ginny still to this day was so mad at his older brother for breaking your heart the way he did. So she never told him anything about you and neither did Ron. Fred knew that you and Ginny grew close after he left, she was there for you when he couldn’t and when he was the reason why you were hurting.

You hadn’t spent time at the Burrow since he left you, your parents still visited before the war but sadly both of your parents were killed by death eaters. Fred had been so worried when he had heard that your parents were dead, so scared that you were gone too but luckily you had survived, he couldn’t even think about the blame he would have felt if you would have died when he was supposed to be there to protect you.

He wanted to be there for you after your parent's death but Ginny didn’t let him even go to the funeral telling him that it would be too much for you to see him at the funeral. He had written you a letter but you never replied back to him.

It had been years but he couldn’t move on from you. He missed you more and more every day. He would give up everything he had just to have you to be his once again. And seeing you made him realise that he had really made the biggest mistake of his life when he let you go, seeing you just confirmed that you were the love of his life, his soulmate.

It had been two months since he had seen you walk past the shop. After that day you were all he could think about anymore, every waking moment he would think of you and when he was sleeping he would see dreams about you.

It was Ron’s and Hermione’s engagement party at the Burrow. When he walked into his childhood home with his twin brother he never expected to see you standing by the fire, beautiful as you ever had been, in a beautiful red dress talking to his mother. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. The only thing he could sense was your perfume, the one he had smelled in Amortentia back at school. Butterflies flying around his stomach at the same time as he felt like he would be sick. You still made him nervous.

“George, Fred! Finally, we thought you weren’t coming!” Ron’s voice roars over the whole party. But Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. Ron’s words made you turn to look at the door to see George and Fred standing there, Fred’s eyes already on you. Not sure about the feeling inside you when you saw him, it had been so long since you last saw him. He was still handsome, but now he was a man, not the boy who had broken your heart. You give him a smile before turning back to Molly who was still talking to you.

He couldn’t stop his feet as he walked past his younger brother who was trying to talk to him, the only thing Fred could think about was you and how he needed to be closer to you, to hear you talk, to feel you.

“Oh Fred! You and George are late.” Molly cuts you off when she sees his son walk up to you and her. You turn to face your ex boyfriend.

“Sorry mum. Hey, how are you y/n?” Fred almost completely ignores his own mother, just needing to heat your lovely voice.

“Hi Fred, I’m good thank you. How are you?” You smile at Fred, it had been so long since you had seen him but it felt like it only had been days when you last saw him. Molly could see that there was a moment between two lost lovers and she excused herself from you two mumbling something about needing to see Hermione.

“Good, good. I’m okay.” Fred takes a step closer to you when his mother leaves. He just wanted to bring you into a tight hug but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“It’s been a long time since I have seen you? How are things with the shop?” You ask him, your eyes looking all around his face trying to burn the picture of him inside your memory.

“I saw you two months ago.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. “Um... I mean I saw you walk past the shop two months ago.” He feels embarrassed, you used to be best friends and lovers why didn’t he know how to talk to you.

“Oh… Sorry for not popping into the shop. I have heard that it’s great.” You had only been to Diagon Alley for a couple of times the past three years, scared that you would run into Fred. Coming here today had been hard, not sure if you were ready to face him.

“Next time you come to Diagon Alley I hope I will see you in the shop then.” He replies. “I mean if you want to...“ You see the blush on his face. Oh, how he hadn’t changed since you last saw him. In his eyes, you could see the little prankster kid you grew up with and the same boy who you fell madly in love with.

“I would love to.” You breathe out to him, but before Fred could reply to you someone called out your name. Both of you turn to look who called out to you. Fred recognized him, it was the same man he saw you walk past the shop with.

“Here darling, your drink.” The man smiles at you lovingly when he gives you a glass of champagne. “Oh Hello mate, I’m William Oxley.” William offeres Fred his hand to sake.

“Fred Weasley.” Fred replies shaking the stranger's hand, maybe with a little too much force.

“Oh, the famous Fred Weasley. I Have heard a lot about you from this lovely lady.” William nods his head at you.

“So you have talked about me to William?” Fred turns to face you, a light shade of blush spreading to your cheeks.

“Of course she has. She told me all about your pranks back at school! Sad that I missed most of them. I left school I think when you were a second year.” Will tells Fred. You look between the two men in front of you.

“O-okay.” Fred didn’t know what to say because William wraps his arm around you and his mind goes blank. “I-I need to go. Nice seeing you love, I-I mean y/n.” Fred mumbles out before quickly walking away from you and William.

“He seemed like a nice guy darling. How are you feeling?” William asks you, you could feel tears burning your eyes. Maybe you weren’t ready to see him after all.

“I-I can’t do this, p-please take me home.” You whisper to him. He nods his head as he wraps his hands around you and you two disappear from the Weasley home without saying anything to anyone but you were sure Hermione and Ron would understand.

Fred couldn’t think straight right after excusing himself from you and William he ran up to his childhood bedroom. He couldn’t breathe, the walls were falling on to him. You moved on from him, you had someone new. The worst thing was that William seemed like an amazing man. You seemed happy, you were fine but he wasn’t. He couldn’t move on from you; he could never do it because everything comes back to you. You were the love of his life and he had lost you.

A/N: Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged! It means a lot to me when you guys leave  comments of what you think!!!

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[your-eternal-muse]

Half As Pretty

Heather Series Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The Song Mentioned in the chapter, Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars aka, the song that made me sob because it was too perfect for this damn fic. I recommend listening to it while you read the part its mentioned in.

Summery: Reader is experiencing her own personal hell, but one midnight confession sets everything ablaze.

Words: 3.4k I told y’all it’d be longer.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of nicotine addiction, the beginning of an alcohol addiction, suicidal thoughts, slight manipulation from one Derek Morgan, and just a whole lotta hurt.

Paring: Spencer Reid x Heather Charmical, eventual (I promise) Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

A/N: Okay.....I’m finna be real honest.....I was listening to my music on shuffle when Poison and Wine came on, and I started crying while typing, and than I re-listened to it while typing this up and proceeded to cry again. It took me about 3 minutes of psyching myself up to write ONE sentence near the end of it because I knew there was no going back once I wrote it. This was so hard to write in the most beautiful way possible, and I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Shout out to @toosassy2handle​ for the recommendation of Heather's last name. It’s long and annoying and just reminds me of a stuck up bitch so its perfect.

~~~~~~

I used to love weddings.

They were always so well put together.

I’d always admire the pretty bride, the dress, everything.

I dreamed of having one of my own one day. And when I met Spencer, those daydreams changed so that I was walking down the aisle towards him instead of someone whose face I could never quite focus on.

But that’s all I’m ever going to have. Daydreams.

Because here I sit, all dolled up next to his mother, at none other than Spencer Reid’s wedding.

It’s obvious Heather did most of the planning.

I don’t take him as a ‘dusty rose’ type of person.

I stare at the soft colors and delicate flowers, and fire burns deep within me.

I want to burn this place to the ground.

I can’t, though.

I’m supportive.

I’m happy for Spencer.

I’m happy that he’s happy.

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

I look down at my hands, playing with the hem of my burgundy party dress.

I don’t think I’ve been this dressed up since….

I think I threw that dress away when I got home that night.

I don’t remember much of that night after coming back to the table.

I’m positive I drank at least half the champagne they had.

Derek had to carry me home.

“My son didn’t plan any of this.”

I look over, and see Diana scowling at the decor. 

I can’t help but let a small smile spread across my face.

At least she agrees with me.

I lean in closer to her, so our words can only be heard by us.

“I completely agree. He’s more of a ‘dark academia’ kind of guy.”

She smiles at me, reaching her hand over, and patting my leg. “You know when he told me he was getting married, I thought it was going to be to you.”

My heart stops. “Y-You did?”

She nods, looking around the room like she hadn’t just said something that made my world stop spinning. “I didn’t meet Heather until a week after he told me. That’s when I learned that they were dating in the first place. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the smile and laugh threatening to spill.

“But she makes him happy. Anyone can see that.”

The smile falls, and the laugh dies.

“Though, he did bring you to meet me not too long after meeting you himself.”

I nod, remembering the trip. “It had been a month. I had known him for a month, and he really wanted me to meet you. I was so nervous. I really wanted you to like me.”

Her smile is big, and her hand finds one laying in my lap, squeezing it.

“I liked you the minute he told me about you.”

I loved Diana.

I will always love Diana.

I open my mouth to say something, but someone a few rows back says ‘Here comes the groom.’

I turn my head, and low and behold, there he is, walking with the biggest smile on his face towards the front. He stands, with his hands clasped in front of him, as he waits like the rest of us.

He looks stunning, in a simple black and white tux.

His eyes meet mine, and I smile at him.

He winks back at me.

The moment doesn’t last long before a song starts, and a hush falls over the crowd.

Slowly, one by one, bridesmaids and groomsmen make their way down the aisle. 

Derek is the best man, and he pats Spencer's shoulder as he takes his position behind him.

And then the music shifts, and while she starts to walk, something dawns on me.

I will never be as pretty as she is.

She’s breathtaking.

She’s practically glowing in the white satin ballgown, a bouquet of roses clutched in her hands.

She’s looking around at the crowd, smiling and nodding and it’s only when she’s halfway down the aisle that she meets his eyes.

I look at him, and I don’t think there are any words that can explain the look of pure joy written across his face.

JJ, who is sitting beside me, reaches over and grabs my free hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

She reaches the front, and all eyes are trained on her, but I can’t tear mine away from him.

He holds her hand so delicately, and I can see him fighting back tears.

I don’t even notice when vows are said and rings are exchanged. I only notice when I see JJ look at me from the corner of her eye as the officiant says “If anyone has any objection to the marriage of these two people, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

For a moment, I think about it.

“Me! I do!”

The crowd gasps as I make my way towards the front.

“I do. I object.”

His eyes are wide and she looks furious.

“Why do you object?” The officiant says, startled.

“Because I love you.” I’m looking directly at him.

“I love you, Spencer.”

No.

No, I can’t.

I’d lose everything.

You’d be a selfish bitch is what you would be.

“Then do you, Heather Charmical, take Spencer Reid to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Tears are lipping out of my eyes, though my eyes are not the only wet ones in the room.

I can blame it on the emotions. I wouldn’t be technically lying.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Heather Charmical, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Please say no.

“I do.”

I don’t have a heart anymore.

This just confirmed it.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

He takes her face between her hands, and places his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

That’s it.

They’re married.

People clap and cheer, and they lock hands, walking back down the aisle, now together by law.

I want to puke.

People start to get up, and I suddenly can’t breath.

My chest rises and falls, and I shoot a glance at JJ, before making my way through the crowd as respectively as possible to leave the room as quickly as I can.

I look down to my bag once I make my way into the vast hallway, digging and searching for my cigarettes when I ram into someone, dropping my purse, and spilling the contents over the smooth tile floor.

“Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, what’s the rush baby girl?”

I look up to see Derek, kneeling down to help me pick up my stuff.

“I just, I just um,”

Breath, y/n, just fucking breath.

“I just really need to find a bathroom. I shouldn’t have drank all that tea before coming here.”

I shove things back into my purse, not even really looking, before standing back up.

“I’ll find you and Pen in a bit. Promise.” 

I don’t wait for him to answer, turning and walking away before he gets a chance to speak.

I’ll find a bathroom eventually.

~~~~

When is an appropriate time to leave the wedding of your best friend, whom you're secretly in love with, without seeming rude?

Because I need to leave.

I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I don’t.

My right leg is crossed over my left, shaking with every anxious heartbeat.

People have plates full of food, and are mingling with drinks from the open bar, another thing that I know for a fact Spencer had nothing to do with.

I’ve barely touched the food on my plate, my appetite gone, at least not for anything other than the fruity little cocktails that keep appearing in front of me.

I’m about to get up and find someone, probably JJ, that I got sick in the ladies room, and to tell Spencer I’m sorry, when he walks up to where I’m seated, his hand outstretched for me.

“Come dance with me.”

The liquor in my system makes me giggle.

“I thought you didn’t like dancing?”

“I’ll make an exception for my favorite girl.”

Don’t let Heather hear you say that.

I place my hand in his, and let him lead me to the dance floor, where he spins me, before bringing me in close to him, resting a hand on my hip, and grasping my left hand with his other.

My hand not in his rests comfortably on his upper arm, and we sway, back and forth to the soft music.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m positive he can feel every heartbeat through the layers of our clothing. 

The lights are soft, and the music is gentle. If I close my eyes, and don’t think about it, I can imagine that this is our first dance, at our wedding that will never happen.

“Thank you, for coming y/n.”

My eyes open, and I can’t hide from him anymore. His eyes don’t falter from my own, and his smile is small.

“Of course I’d come. Why wouldn’t you think I would?”

“I don’t know. You’ve seemed off these past couple months. I didn’t know if you’d be up for it.”

Shit shit shit.

I laugh off my panic. “Spence, I could be bleeding out on my apartment floor, and I would still make it here. You mean everything to me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He grimaces at the thought of me dying, but the words that follow erase the worry on his face. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right? Everything’s okay?”

I smile at him, placing my head against his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I lie. “Everything is fine. I’m okay. I promise.”

You’ve gotten way too good at lying to him. What’s gonna happen when he finds out? About your secret? About how it's getting harder and harder for you to get out of bed in the morning because it’s just not worth it anymore? Or about your depleting alcohol cabinet, since every night you seem to think drowning out your sorrows will make it easier to sleep?

He rests his chin on my head and we just sway back and forth to the music. 

His fingers start gently playing with my own, and I hear him softly singing to himself as we dance.

“Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise.” His hand moves from my hip to my lower back, holding me there against him as he continues to sing. 

“I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.”

I move my face farther into his shoulder, like I could disappear if I wanted to. This feels too intimate, feels too wrong. I should step away and congratulate him, tell him to go find his wife for god's sake, and leave with my dignity still intact. 

But I don’t want to. I’ve dreamed of him holding me like this, and the words he’s whispering I know are for only me to hear.

“Oh I don’t love you, but I always will. I don’t love you, but I always will.”

Whoever the dj is, deserves a raise, because while this song is totally not for a wedding, it’s perfect for this moment.

“I always will. I always will.”

The song ends, and we stand, still together, for a second longer than we probably should. 

“I’m sorry to break you two up, but I was wondering if I could convince my son to dance with his mother.” 

Diana’s voice is soft, and I smile against his shoulder before moving back, removing myself from him. 

His eyes are wet.

“Of course, Diana. He’s all yours.” 

She turns to me before I walk away, pushing stray hairs out of my face, fixing my necklaces and smoothing out my dress. “Heather looked like she was about to burst into flames. I thought I’d save you from a public sacrifice.”

Fuck.

“Thank you, Diana.” 

She kisses my forehead before turning back to Spencer, and I use the time to walk back over to my table, grab my purse and make my way out of the room. 

I find a balcony of sorts, and the cool December air cools my skin. 

I once again dig through my purse to find my cigarettes, pulling out the pack once I do. When I open it, however, I find it empty. 

I smoked my last one and didn’t even realize it.

“Damnit!” I crush it in my hands, before placing it back in my purse.

The sun is setting, and I can see my breath.

I walk forward to the stone railing, looking out over the small park below the building. The stone is rough beneath my palms, and dark spots appear as I cry for the second time today.

I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.

He couldn’t have meant it the way I’m thinking he meant it. He was just singing along to a song he’s probably heard thousands of times the past couple months.

But it’s too perfect not to. 

Is it possible? Did he love me? If he did, does he still love me?

“Aren’t you cold, sweetheart?” Derek’s voice startles me, and I jump a little. 

“Uh, no. It feels nice. It was getting a little stuffy in there so I thought I would come get some air.” 

He hums, and walks up to stand beside me, his hands in his pockets. 

“You know, when you dropped your purse earlier, an envelope fell out.” 

My eyes widen.

“It didn’t have anything written on it, so I just assumed it was for Spencer and Heather and put it with the others. You seemed like you had other things on your mind so I thought I’d help.”

No no no no no no no no this isn’t happening. This isn’t real, he didn’t just give my love confession to the now married man it’s about and his wife. Oh my god, I’m gonna die.

“Y-You what?! No no no, that wasn’t meant for them. No no no. Holy shit.” I start pacing back and forth, combing my hands through what little of my hair was down.  

“I need to go get it. He’ll understand. It’s just a big mix up. He can’t have that envelope.”

I turn ready to run back into that room and make a scene when Derek speaks from behind me.

“You mean this envelope?” I turn and there he stands, holding it in his hand. 

My stomach rises from my feet. “Jesus fucking christ, Morgan. That’s not fucking funny.” I walk forward to grab it, but he’s taller than I am, and raises it out of my reach. “I never said it was.”

“Give it back, Derek.” Even in heels I can’t quite reach his hand.

“I will, once you tell me what's in it that gets you so worked up at the thought of Spencer having it.”

I don’t meet his eye as I reach for it again. “It’s nothing. It’s none of your business.”

“Baby girl, I see the way you look at him.” He grabs my wrist with his free hand, lowers himself so he can look at me straight on. “And that dance that you two just had? That’s not nothing and you know it.”

My lip trembles and I remove my arm from his grasp, walking back to the railing. 

If you jump, this could all end. You wouldn’t have to explain anything. It's a perfect cop out.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my voice shuddery when I talk. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Penelope. And especially not Spencer.”

He stands close by my side, his eyes on my face as I stare out over the park. “I promise.”

Is this what having a heart attack feels like? 

I take a short breath in, it's all I can muster, and speak. 

“It’s a confession. I’m horrible with words, so I wrote it down to give it to him.”

“What were you confessing?” 

Tears resume to fall down my face, and I pinch at my cuticles. “That I’m in love with him.”

I feel Derek shift to look down at the railing, the envelope placed in between us.

“I confessed that I’m in love with him. That I have been since the moment I met him. I know how horrible it is, I know but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Even if he never finds out, I needed to put it out there that I love him.”

“You’re in love with me?”

I choke on my breath, and my nails dig into the stone.

No. Please no. Please tell me this is all just a nightmare, and I’ll wake up this morning and it’ll have never happened.

My body is frozen, but I manage to turn to see him standing in the doorway, a look of pure shock written across his face.

He looks like I just slapped him.

“Spencer, oh my god.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it feels like a scream ripping from my chest.

“Y-You’re in love with me? When-, I-,” he runs his hands through his hair, and takes a step forward. 

I'm sobbing, and I can’t stop. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. “Spencer, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on you finding out like this.”

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice cracks, and I realize then that he’s not angry. He’s hurt.

I have to be honest with him now. I can’t lie to him. It’s over. The ruse is over. 

I’m finished.

My fists clench and unclench as I try my best to keep my emotions under control.

“I was going to tell you the day you introduced me to Heather.”

His eyes flicker to the envelope resting on the railing, and they gloss over for a second as he remembers that day.

“You told me-”

“I lied. I lied and said it was for my mom, but it wasn’t.” I cross my arms in front of me, a chill settling itself on my skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wish his voice would get louder. I wish he would scream at me. I deserve to be screamed at.

“You were dating someone, Spencer. You had been dating someone, and you had just introduced me to her. What would you have wanted me to do?”

“Not lie to me!” There we go. Get angry. Hate me.

“Why? What would you have done!? What would have happened if I didn’t care about your relationship with her and just given it to you?”

It’s getting darker, and the light pouring outside from the building is the only one to see by, so I can’t really make out his face.

“I don’t know! I have no idea of knowing, but I do know that I wish you wouldn’t have lied to me. You’ve been hiding from me, Y/N. Please stop hiding from me. I can help you.”

I roll my eyes, my vision going blurry from the tears. “No you can’t Spencer. You’re married. Did you forget that?”

He’s quiet, and I can see Derek shift his gaze from between us, not really knowing what to do. 

His voice is substantially softer when he speaks next. 

“Give me the letter.”

I choke back the noisy sobs. “No.”

He repeats himself, holding out his hand.

“Please, give me the letter.”

“Why?” I’m exhausted. Can’t this conversation just end?

“Because I need to know that you loved me like I loved you.”

Loved?

He just told you to your face, that while he may have loved you once upon a time, he doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t love you.

I can’t fight this anymore.

“Please don’t hide from me anymore.” He pleads, and I can feel myself beginning to go numb. Whether it’s from the cold, or my mind starting to shut down, I have no idea. 

I grab the envelope from where it sits, walking forward and handing it to him. 

He brings it to his jacket, tucking it safe inside one of the pockets. 

“I’ll call you. Okay? And we can talk this out.”

There’s no talking this out, Spencer. What’s done is done.

He looks between me and Derek, and without another word, he walks back into the building, shoulders tense, and head down.

This is it. This is the end of the line. Nothing will be the same.

“Y/n….”

I don’t respond. I just turn, grabbing my purse and walking down the stairway the leads to the park from the balcony. 

My tears leave hot streaks against my cold skin. 

A snowflake lands on my nose.

~~~

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[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

[meadow-roses]

aske time :) for the writing asks: A1, A2, A10, A12, A14, your choice of anything in B, C8 ( :^) ), C11, D6

A1: Introduce the characters from one of your current WIPs in one or two sentences each. 

Okay let's gooo,,, I'll do The Keepers cause I haven't talked about that one as much. These aren't gonna be the best descriptions but whatever 

Ketsler: Quirky, fun-loving, everyone's weird grandpa, but also the most powerful person to have ever lived. He's old- so very, very old- and he's seen so much over all the centuries he has been protecting the worlds from Chaos, but he still makes an effort to slow down and appreciate the little things around him, because he knows better than most how fleeting life is.

Skylar: Skylar is from a world where faerie circles are real and witches turn people into frogs and trolls live in great, big castles and are slain by talking cats, a world where there's too much adventure to stay in one place, too many people to meet, and too many monsters to slay to stop running. He may be only a human (ooo mystery!!) but he is proficient in Wind magic and carries around a good bit of rune stones he and his pet dragon have found along his adventures. 

Felix: Felix is just a normal human from a small town after the earth becomes united under one world power. He wasn't born with superpowers like most soldiers are, but he was still skilled enough to join a special force working behind enemy lines when the rebellion made its move to free the planet from the tyranny that built this dystopian reality. 

Betty: A very sweet young lady, she's from a planet that was colonized by humans centuries ago. She may seem naive, but Betty can read anyone like a book and uses her gift to help those who are lost find themselves again. 

There's more characters but I'll just stick with those main ones cause I really struggle with descriptions xD

A2: Who's your favorite character to write and why?

Probably Joden? I haven't written most of my characters, but I looove writing his dialogue. He also makes me think so I can keep him clever lol

A10: What’s your character development process like? (As in how you develop them, not necessarily their development in-story)

I roleplay them! The more developed they are, the more I've acted as them. It really gets me inside their head to try and think like how they think, and that results in me being more equipped to "discover" why they are like that. 

A12: What kind of internal conflict does your character go through (want versus need, personality complexes or strong personality flaws/”fatal flaw” kinda thing)? How does this affect them?

It really varies depending on the character? For example Joden has this need to always have a plan, always be in control, and a breaking moment for him comes in when he finally just,,, doesn't know what to do. He's in over his head and the only thing he can do is trust Jacer to do what he can- knowing Jacer doesn't have things under control. 

So that's an example of a flaw that the character gets to overcome, but there also characters whose flaws are part of who they are. Skylar wouldn't be Skylar if he weren't stubborn. Ketsler wouldn't be Ketsler if he weren't arrogant. They never grow out of these flaws, they just learn to control them. Or I guess not be controlled by the flaw. 

This is actually something I think I struggle with for my characters, giving them those visable flaws. I see other people's characters that start out "bad" and grow into heroes, but it kinda seems like all my characters start out as heroes. 😅 I mean, they have flaws, but in comparison to other people's characters they feel really bland in that aspect. Idk

A14: Ramble about your characters. Anything special you like about them? Random little details you’ve added that you enjoy? 

Uh,,, I don't even know where to start I just love all of them for so many various reasons. Joden is just a clever little genius but he still can be so naive. He just has simple pleasures and it's not hard to make him laugh or smile and practically impossible to discourage him. He starts off just,,, wanting his old life back and then he sees what the world is like outside his little bubble and the bubble pops. He sees the atrocities for what they are and to be able to settle down again, he has to fix it. He can't just smile and do as he's told, he can't let the bad guys win. It I just his mother and wife and son he's fighting for, it's the entire wood and the idea of being actually, truly, free.

Jacer is so savvy, he knows what to do and what to say to get into and out of any situation, but at the same time he's just clueless when it comes to genuine connection. He's a princeling who's really never had a friend and now he's saving the world with Joden who only knows how to make genuine connections. Why does he have to keep hugging me??  

And Twylla who's ready to fight anything so she can get her clever idiot husband back? 

Adric who's just doing his best to be a good leader but everything keeps going wrong. He wasn't born to be a king, he wasn't born to lead an army, he always had his big brother to help him do these things and he's gone- he's gone and he's not coming back he messed up again so bad and yet here he is with everyone looking to him for answers and he doesn't know what to tell them. But he's got his friends, and he's got a good heart, and he genuinely cares and they're going to figure it out.

Skylar just keeps running forward and he never looks back at the past he just jumps from one adventure to another stopping the monsters and saving the day. He's got Gigi what more does he need? 

Felix is just,,, he's just such a nice guy. Over and over he stepped into the gap because someone's gotta fly that fighter, someone's got to fire that gun, someone's got to stabilize the bomb, someone's going to lose their life to ensure the victory, why shouldn't it be him? But he never actually dies, somehow he always survives and lives to fight the next day, and the next day and the next day, and then they win the war- the world is free. And even though he's been through so much he still hasn't lost that kindness, that love for all life that makes him himself. He still falls in love and starts a family and has his own beloved children… and even when he loses them he still doesn't become cynical. He still stands in the gap and is the one to fire the gun, to hold the hand of the one who's mourning, to scoop up the orphan child and carry them home. He fights, so others don't have to. Father to the fatherless and hero for all. Also he puts up with Skylar's time traveling craziness lol

And Ketsler? Unlike everyone else he never chose to be a hero. What are you supposed to do when you're a four year old boy and everyone tells you you're the hero they've been waiting for, praying for, you have to save them. It wasn't at all his choice to be born with the power of the universe running through his veins. To hold the Inness in his hands and bend reality to his will. But he didn't run away. He never hid from his destiny. He took the world onto his shoulders and never set it down. Only once- and he's never going to do it again. Never going to ask someone to fill in his role for him, it is his burden to bear… Except not anymore. Despite being multi-millenniums old, all that time didn't dull his appreciation for the little things. A baby's smile, sunshine through the leaves, the change of the seasons. The union of two souls in marriage, or the colors of the sunset streaking a foreign sky. He still sees these things, loves these things, fights for these things. Cause it's the little things he's fighting for, not just the big things. The precious moments and precious lives that make up the worlds. One of his apprentices asked him once, he'd been fighting for so long, when was it going to end? It's not his job to strike the final blow, to end the suffering and bloodshed, just to help. He saves the world, so that he can save it again. 

I have… several more characters I'd love to ramble about but that answer's gotten pretty long so I'll cut it off there. XD

B3: Do you have any plot twists? No need to describe them, just think about what kind of reaction you want from your readers. 

Oh I was just talking to August about this the other day. XD There is one plot twist in the Keeper's story I'm reeaaally looking forward to hehe I want to make people confused and then really mad when the whole thing is stretched out. >:) 

C8: Does magic exist in your world? Who can use it? How does it work?

It really depends on which WIP, but in general I like to keep magic restricted with rules. Joden's story and the Keeper's story are in the same universe (along with ThRoG) and follows that magic system. It's too complicated to go in depth here, but "magic" exists in another plane of existence, and things in the material world have varying levels of connection with it. It's kinda the energy that holds all worlds together and sustains life. The magic realm- the Inness is not a place where physical matter should exist, only spirits can walk there. 

Wizards are creatures that stand with one foot in the physical realm and the other in the Inness. Tevlar is destroying the world basically by turning it inside out- pulling the Inness out.

C11: Have you developed historical figures? How do you develop them? How in-depth do you go?

Oh yes. I am a complete history nerd so if any world EXISTS it has history, and history only happens because people. 

Sometimes it's a thought through process of "somebody needs to go here" and sometimes it's an npc from a time travel rp that took on more importance than I originally intended. 

It really varies how in depth it will go? Sometimes it's just a name to fill a spot and other times it's like, man I could write a whole book about this guy!

One historical figure would be Ares of the Pegasus. He was a powerful warrior that won a bunch of wars and united the different pegasus clans under his leadership and became the first king. He's really famous and people like naming their kids after him in a kinda superstitious hope they'll grow into attributes of his character. Ares is the male form of the name, Aris is for girls. It's like, the most common Pegasian name. XD

D6: Are there any writing styles that inspire you?

Probably the first writing style I wanted to emulate was Tolkien's, but I also really liked Andrew Peterson's? Tolkien is so dramatic, and Peterson isn't heavy on location descriptions, so I'm kinda aiming for in between I guess. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

=================================

The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.  

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

 He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x​ 

PART 4

[lost-in-yujikiri]

References of Classic Literatures in SAO

This post are thoughts I have on discord plus discussion with friends. I didn’t intend to publish this publicly but this was so well-received and a friend asked me to do so, so here it is.

Below are the classic works that I think SAO main arcs took many inspirations from:

1) Aincrad arc & Little Red Riding Hood

- Asuna is the Little Red Riding Hood, with Kirito as the brooding hunter who protected her and led her to a happy ending, and Kayaba is the wolf who disguised himself as Asuna's "Grandma" (aka her caretaker).

- Kayaba's nickname is the same name as the central character of Wuthering Heights (Heathcliff), both men created their world of their own obsessions (for OG Heathcliff is his love with Catherine, for Kayaba is his castle dream) and during that creation they ended up destroying a lot of lives, even innocent people involved.

2) Fairy Dance arc & A Midsummer Night’s Dream

- Fairy Dance might take references from A Midsummer Night's Dream with Fairy King & Queen Oberon & Titania, who are a married couple under quarrels (Asuna and Sugou). The Fairy Dance arc also presents the themes of falling in love with the wrong person (Suguha/Leafa’s feelings for her brother/cousin Kazuto/Kirito) and unrequited love (Recon to Leafa, Leafa to Kirito) albeit in a different way than the original story.

3) Phantom Bullet arc & Sonezaki Shinjuu 

- The classic kabuki play Sonezaki Shinjuu (The Love Suicides at Sonezaki) is a story about close acquaintances/families/lovers being tangled in conflicts of opposing sides, with the main couple performing a double suicide ending so they can be husband and wife in afterlife (just like Kyouji & Sinon). In SAO Kyouji tried to force the double suicide on Sinon but it failed.

3) Alicization arc volume 9-14, Eugeo’s story & The Little Prince

- When people see Alicization cast many might think of Alice in Wonderland first. However Eugeo's whole story in Alicization 1st half was most likely inspired from The Little Prince, with Eugeo as the Prince, Kirito as the Prince's wise old buddy and also the story's Narrator, and Zuberg as the Prince's Rose flower in his homeland which he loves so much but was separated from for so long. Only Alice S30 is the Alice in Wonderland, which is why she isn't the one Eugeo looked for.

- Friendship between the Narrator & the Prince is somewhat similar Kirito & Eugeo, in how the Prince is the only one who truly shares the world view of Narrator. In stories of his own journey, the Prince met a lot of adults, each of them showed their greed, selfishness, ugliness in their way, and the Prince's pure heart couldn't understand or withstand most of them. Just like Eugeo's naivety and pure heart can't accept even the littlest unfairness and evils of his world.

- The Prince thought he didn't love his rose in the correct way, and during his journey he knew his rose isn't so special because there are millions of beautiful roses on Earth. But later he learned that it's the time and space that he spent nurturing his rose that made the rose truly special and distinct. Isn't that similar to how Eugeo learned that love is giving, like nurturing flowers continuously?

- However, the Prince agonized then because he was in a place too far from his home and he left his rose for too long that it might have been eaten, like the distance and long pining towards the Alice in Eugeo's past that killed him inside, while his childhood has long gone.

- In The Little Prince's ending, the prince followed a poisonous snake's offer that if he lets it bite him, he would be able to return to his planet with his beloved rose (Quinella's deal, anyone?). The narrator realized what would really happen but couldn't stop the Prince. Before following that offer, the Prince told the Narrator please look at the stars to remember him, if it looks like he has died, it is only because his body is too heavy to take with him to his planet. The next day, the Prince's body couldn't be found and in his later journey, the Narrator ask the readers if any of them have seen the Prince. In Eugeo's story though, instead of creating an ambiguous ending, Reki presented both ends of the Prince's fate literally. Eugeo died in a sacrifice of his choice, and at the same time went into the light with the little Alice in his past (aka the Little Prince's rose).

- Kirito, just like how the Narrator who believed the Prince didn't die, continued to live in his own world of darkness like the time he spent with Eugeo hasn't gone.

4) Alicization volume 13-18, Alice Synthesis 30′s story & Alice in Wonderland

- Alice Synthesis 30, from an empty knight who has no knowledge of the world with a forced Knight identity, was thrown to the unknown in War of Underworld and had to fight off everything and figure her self-identity out on her own, has parallels with Alice in Wonderland. Original Alice fell into a rabbit hole into Wonderland when she followed the White Rabbit, while Alice S30 fell from Floor 85 of the Cathedral when she fought after Kirito, both Alices learned about the mess that is happening in the world they're in after this.

- The original story is more about all kinds of creatures and humans in Wonderland rather than just about Alice herself, while War of Underworld is also more about people participating in the War rather than just about Alice S30.

- Kirito is the cheshire cat who guided her somewhere along the way but left her on her own device at some point. There are pig-lookalike creatures called "Rath" in the original Wonderland story, and in SAO we have RATH company who is monitoring project Alicization as well as the pig-lookalike Orcs in WoU. In many versions of Alice in Wonderland the stories involve a coup d'état towards a tyrant queen, in Alicization we have a Quinella as similar type of ruler whom Alice S30 and her friends fought against.

- At the end of both stories Alices left the mess in their "Wonderland" to get to real world. Though for OG Alice it's getting back to reality, while for Alice S30 she just got thrown to another "Wonderland" where she has even less attachment to as well as being shunned by most other humans without being able to go back to the UW she knows.

5) Kirito’s character arc in Alicization & Yu Boya and Zhong ziqi:

Kirito's character arc in Alicization was inspired by the story of Yu Boya & Zhong Ziqi, whose story has invented the words 知音知己 ("2 souls who understanding each other's tone & self the most") which usually get translated to English as "bosom friends", Chinese usually called them the epitome of friendship/ companionship. In Japan their names are translated as "Haku Ga" & "Shou Shiki".

Full story can be found here:

http://chineseaesop.blogspot.com/2012/09/yu-boya-and-zhong-ziqi-romance-of-guqin.html

Summary: Boya was an accomplished statesman from the Kingdom of Tsin and also an expert musician who played the "qin". One day as he played a musical piece on the river when he sailed to the Kingdom of Chu, he met a woodcutter named Zhong Ziqi, who might be poor but is very knowledgeable about music & what Boya's soul wanted to convey through his music. Being very happy that he could find a partner who can so quickly clicked with him, Boya & Ziqi stayed with each other talking for 3 days. Though Ziqi eventually had to go back to support his parents so they had to part with a promise of seeing each other again. The next year Boya went to find Ziqi, only to hear from Ziqi's father that he had died while trying to both work to support his family & study to catch up to a successful man like Boya. Boya played his last piece of music in front of Ziqi's grave and then destroyed his beloved musical instrument and swore to never play it again, because the life friend who could understand his heart & soul was no longer in this world. He then told Ziqi's father that he would adopt Ziqi's parents and support them like Ziqi did, saying "I was one with Ziqi and he with me. Do not think of me as an outsider."

So Kirito = Boya who are both accomplished in life (battles/social hierarchy), Eugeo = the woodcutter Ziqi who's inexperienced but wise and shared a love of something (swordmanship for Kirito & Eugep/ music for Boya & Zhong Ziqi) with the other man, both died young before they truly accomplished any of life goals. Their deaths devastated their friends, Boya destroyed his own musical instrument and his own musical ability, while for Kirito even though he was right at the chance to wake up from coma, due to the guilt of Eugeo’s death he intended to use his sword to stab himself, but having no sword so he tried to destroy his heart instead.

In the end though Kirito was stopped by a fragment of Eugeo’s soul, who give him the strength to stand back up again.

Personal thoughts:

- I find it interesting that Kirito is very apt for 2 different roles in the Little Red Riding Hood and The Little Prince, more than any roles with other heroines. In Aincrad/Progressive he is the hunter who managed to protect the Riding Hood Asuna from the wolves and in one way or another lead her to her own happy ending. In Alicization he is the best friend to the Prince Eugeo, he wanted to show the Prince the world and lead him to happiness too, but ended up having to watch his Prince walking to his own death.

- Mother's Rosario is treated as a side story in the original Web Novel and not a full-blown arc, so it doesn't have classic references. But Reki said in an interview along with the author of yuri manga/anime Bloom Into You that it's the most yuri-esque story he has ever written (despite not being technically yuri).

[pointnumbersixteen]

My Personal Ranking of Ghosts Episodes and Why

So, here’s my personal order for all the current Ghosts episodes, from best to worst, with a bit of an explanation as to why I think so. I included who wrote each episode because the writing pairs tend to have consistent strengths and weaknesses that affect my enjoyment. These are, of course, just my opinions, and I recognize that different people have different tastes.  

1) Moonah Ston (Larry and Martha)

This episode is hilarious and it continues to be hilarious through multiple viewings (some of the jokes in other episodes start to wear thin after multiple viewings, but this one remains entirely solid through dozens of rewatches). Barclay and Bunny are my favorite guest characters throughout the show. Also some of my all-time favorite bits are in it: Cap stealing Thomas’s role doing the reading, the shooting of the pheasant with Cap, everything to do with Mary and the cooking of the pheasant, the way Alison yeets the pelaverga as soon as it’s handed to her, the juxtaposition of the eclipse ritual and the dinner party, Bunny’s ‘sobriety test.’ Also, there’s a strong A plot and a strong B plot that tie together, and all of the characters are fit into these two plots well, which is something the creators sometimes struggle with.

2) Getting Out (Mat and Jim)

I love everything about the Captain’s portion of the plot and it’s a nice big portion, too. His scene with Kitty is one of my favorite scenes in the show, brilliantly written, well-acted, and gorgeously shot. I can feel for Mike and Alison in it. Fiona’s another really funny guest character. My only major complaint is that the plot with other ghosts after the Captain’s left the group starts to drag after enough re-watches, particularly Thomas’s bad erotica and the jewel scene. I found both very funny on the first several watches, but the payoff to both is ruined with enough rewatches. With the first, the payoff is with how surprisingly bad for a ‘professional’ writer his story is, but after you’re well aware that Thomas is a bad writer, it’s just listening to bad writing over and over again. And the bit with Fanny’s jewel has such a long lead up, to get to the surprise payoff that the jewel was secretly pawned by George forever ago, but once you know the jewel is gone, the long lead up gets progressively more tedious with every watch. At least for me.

3) Reddy Weddy (Ben and Simon)

I’ve written extensively about this one before, so I won’t include much, but: I love everything having to do with the Captain in this one, particularly the completely wonderful flashbacks with Havers. Mike and Alison were very well done, and I enjoyed Martin as a guest character. But I really didn’t like the whose-turn-is-it-to-pick-the-movie subplot, it just seemed sort of unnecessary to me and detracted from the tone of the rest of it. I assume they just had trouble finding a better integrated role for Pat, Thomas and Julian, which, as I said under Moonah Ston, is an occasional weakness the creators had.

4) Gorilla War (Larry)

I love Cap’s campaign of attrition. And his singing. Everyone had solid, funny bits, all tied into one main plot in it. Mike and Alison are both well done in this episode. It’s the first episode where Alison is able to interact with the ghosts and I think they did a great job capitalizing on her coming to terms with it and Mike’s such a supportive husband in it.  

5) About Last Night (Mat and Jim)

I love the spat between Cap and Pat in this one, because the focus of their subplot is their relationship dynamic and I enjoy their relationship dynamic- even though it’s close to the breaking point in this instance, all is well because they make up in the end. Everything about the state of the house and trying to remember what happened to it-as well as the flashbacks to the party- is pretty funny. The bits with Dante were very funny as well. The Robin-Mary subplot was a bit meh for me, but I didn’t dislike it, I’m just not sold on the idea. I didn’t enjoy Mike being sidelined on the roof for most of the episode when Alison needed his help and all the criticism he got from the other characters for not being around to help Alison, though.

6) Who Do You Think You Are? (Mat and Jim)

This is a really strong introductory episode with some good, funny bits in it, but it doesn’t rank higher since the ghosts can’t interact with Alison yet and Mike and Alison don’t know they’re there, which is where a lot of the fun of the concept of the show comes in to me.

7) Bump in the Night (Larry and Martha)              

The robbers were funny as were the ghosts’ utterly inept attempts (save Robin) in stopping them. I loved music club, particularly the Captain’s performance. I appreciated the return of Barclay and his bitches. Humphrey was actually reasonably included in the plot, which is always a nice change. There weren’t any bits I found particularly outstanding (except maybe Cap’s musical performance) but there weren’t any major bits I disliked, either. Everyone’s included in one main plot and it continues to be just as enjoyable on rewatches.

8) The Thomas Thorne Affair (Mat and Jim)

I greatly enjoy examine-the-story-from-multiple-viewpoints-to-illustrate-unreliable-narration plots, so that went well in this episode. I also really like regency romances, so this ticked another box for me. Humphrey was given an important bit again, which I appreciate. The bit about Francis was a nice twist at the end, because otherwise it would have been a bit too predictable, with Thomas being shot in a duel over a romantic misunderstanding- that was the most obvious solution to his death, after all. It felt a bit contrived, though, that the characters who died after Thomas all went to the group meeting on time, while the characters who witnessed Thomas’s death were all still wandering around upstairs and just happen to wander into Alison’s room in time to contradict the last telling of the story and provide the next. And of course, the fact that half the cast is just sort of sitting downstairs waiting for a significant portion of the episode always seemed a bit lacking to me. Also, Mike starts the episode being unusually stupid (not knowing Elizabeth II is the current queen- at least in the US, not being able to answer who the current President is frequently used as shorthand for ‘having brain damage’) and spends the rest of it being insecure about Alison’s ex (this seems to be a Mat and Jim thing).  

9) Perfect Day (Mat and Jim)

I loved all the Cap bits in this. Pat’s plotline was good, too. Humphrey actually had a substantial role, which I appreciated, and more so since he actually managed to bring Fanny around to the gay wedding. I was of course thrilled that it was a lesbian wedding. But I’m not a fan of ‘miscommunication causes drama’ plots in any medium and I disliked how once again how insecure Mike is in this episode (Mat and Jim again) and how poorly he handles it.

10) Happy Death Day (Ben)

I love all the Pat bits. I liked the interactions between the Captain and Julian, they had a really enjoyable dynamic in this one, although they’re being rather disappointing human beings in their plotline. I like Kitty’s plotline, too, and the garden scene between her and Fanny is very funny and beautifully framed. I don’t think this episode did a particularly good job with either Mike or Alison, though. Mike ditches his probably still concussed wife who is plagued by ghosts to manage the building work he started because he’s spending hours a day out of the house because there are too many people in it and he’s apparently potty-shy and Alison thinks trying to convince people to do probably thousands, if not more, pounds worth of free labor by making them tea is both a plausible idea and an appropriate thing to even try (it’s bad enough when the people asking you to do free work for them are actually your friends, contriving a friendship in order to do this just sort of seems a bit contemptible to me). Some of the jokes get less funny with time- Fanny with the butt cracks, for instance. I considered the Thomas subplot another weak ‘well, something needs to be done with this character’ subplot and I can’t even remember off the top of my head what Mary was doing most of the episode despite having seen it at least a dozen times, besides the bit where Alison throws the teacup at her head (and if I were Terry, I would have called it quits then).  

11) The Ghost of Christmas (Ben and Simon)

Mostly fluff, and a decent amount of it was rather predictable fluff, but I’ve written more on that elsewhere. Mike’s sisters were the worst. I was hoping Ben would write himself a bigger role and he didn’t. In the Bleak Midwinter was gorgeous, though, and there were enough smaller bits that I found endearing to prop it up over the next two.

12) The Grey Lady (Larry and Martha)

I enjoy the ghosts’ routine as shown at the beginning of the episode. I found Pat’s radio show amusing. I liked the basement scene with Nigel. I wasn’t a huge fan of the Captain’s ‘stretching’ subplot (although I do greatly enjoy his  ‘for king and country’ running), it just seemed a bit silly to me, like they couldn’t decide what to do with him for most of the episode, so went with ‘eh, squats, I guess.’ Also, I feel like they had trouble placing Mary and Kitty, too. Mary spends a lot of the episode staring at a wall and Kitty spends all of it just following the group and occasionally wailing about the ‘ghost-ghost.’ Also, I think Alison went a little too far with her simulated haunting when she dressed up as the Grey Lady; it wasn’t smart because there was no way she was going to get away with it after anyone turned on the lights and it seems a bit more like attempting to defraud people than the rest of it did.

13) Free Pass (Mat and Jim)

Alison actively puts people in danger for money, misrepresenting the house as structurally sound in order to get a movie contract, when in fact the floors are held up by hope and happy thoughts and could (and eventually do) cave at any moment. If the floor had fallen through in the letter scene, before Mike braced it, when they were using the heavy equipment, there likely would have been serious injuries. Also: Toby Nightingale is the worst. Also: the solidity and supportive nature of Mike and Alison’s relationship is the best part of it and I dislike the choice (Mat and Jim again) to make him so insecure in this episode (this was the first in the episode order to do so).

To speak on general tendencies, though: I’m not a fan of doing morally questionable things for monetary reasons unless the situation is life or death, so all of the episodes where that’s Alison’s primary purpose get major demerits from me. That’s a matter of personal taste, but there I am. As for the writers (I recognize they all come up with the general story arcs together, but the writing pairs are responsible for execution), everyone struggles a bit sometimes to get solid roles for everyone into the plot, to be expected when the cast is so large, but some instances are worse than others. I think Larry’s (well, Larry/Martha for most of them, but they’ve both joked that mostly she drinks and he writes when they’re working on their episodes) still the strongest writer in terms of having mostly cohesive plots that standup consistently as solid to multiple viewings, but he also has the most experience as a writer, so that’s probably to be expected. Ben and Simon have both stated that they like jig-sawing a bunch of little plots together to make an episode, and while it is a bit impressive that they can make episodes with like, nearly as many plotlines as characters come together to make one reasonably sane episode, I find this strategy detrimental in that to me, when they do this, there’s always one or two plots that are really, really good, a few plots that are pretty good, and then one or two plots that I just don’t enjoy, that to me drag down the rest of the episode (most apparent in Reddy Weddy, but it happens to some degree in all of their episodes). My major criticism of Mat and Jim is with the way they write Mike. I actually really like Mike when he’s well done, but his portrayal seems to vary a lot between episodes, and (with the exception of Ben’s Happy Death Day, but his problems in that one are different) the episodes he’s written the weakest in are all written by Mat and Jim. They’re the only ones who I think write Mike as insecure in his relationship with Alison and his most incompetent and/or useless moments also tend to be written by them. I don’t know if they have a slightly different concept of Mike’s character than the other four or what, but I think Larry/Martha and Ben/Simon’s portrayals of him tend to be significantly more flattering.

[dimimagines]

No one asked for this, but I really wanted to write something like this, so I did! Hope you all enjoy!~

Seeing my future with you (Dimitri x Reader)

He didn’t expect this to happen, it was all so sudden. One moment, he was in the Blue Lions classroom with Annette, as he had volunteered to help her with a spell she wanted to try out, the next moment he had vanished off to gods knows where. He looked around taking in his surroundings, before realizing where he was; he was back at the castle in Fhirdiad. He was home. Well, that wasn’t so bad, he thought. Not the most ideal situation, but no more than a slight inconvenience. He’d be able to explain what happened to someone and he’d be back at the monastery in no time, though he’s sure that people at the monastery were panicking about his whereabouts at the moment. He did feel a little guilty, knowing that he’d miss having tea with you later as he had promised earlier in the day. But you were a sweet, kind and understanding person, he knew you’d simply laugh it off and forgive him.

At least, he thought everything was that simple. He heard heavy footsteps behind him, as an familiar yet unfamiliar voice called out to him, “Who are you?. Turning around to answer, he looked at the person who had asked him in shock; the same reaction reflected on the other persons- no, his own face. He could at the very least recognize that the person in front of him was none other than himself; a taller, bulkier, eyepatched version of himself. He was curious as to where the eyepatch had come from, but that was not his priority at the moment. He was more concerned about how this had happened.

His older-self finished processing the situation, before letting out a small chuckle, “Let me guess; you were helping Annette with a spell, but suddenly you’ve teleported somewhere, you thought you were home, but upon seeing me you’ve realized you’re in the future, correct?” The younger Dimitri could only nod in response. He supposed that it made sense that the future him understood what was going on; he must have experienced this for himself in the past as well.

“Follow me, we should discuss your current situation in a better place than a hallway.” Without waiting for a response, the king turned around and started walking away. The prince let out a sigh and followed the king, having no other choice. This situation certainly got a whole lot more complex.

The king had led his younger self out to the garden, sending a maid to fetch the two of them some tea. The younger Dimitri looked around, the garden looked more lively compared to how it usually had; well-kept and vibrant. The spot they were sitting in currently was a new addition too; he could not recall such a quiet and peaceful corner in the garden previously existing.

The king did not speak, he just sat there, observing his younger self, a smile on his lips. He recalled how in the past, during the academy days, he told himself he had no future to truly look forward to; the reason why he had attended the monastery to begin with was to hopefully find information on who caused the tragedy of Duscur. How things have changed since then. He had experienced the lowest of lows and the highest of highs in the past decade alone. There were many things he wanted to tell himself; and yet he knew he could not tell it all. Lessons are better learnt when experienced for themselves. He could however, try to give himself a nudge, and show that he did have a future to look forward to; no matter how hard things would be getting for him.

The tea had arrived, along with a tray of a couple of sweets.

“Sweets? I appreciate them but… we would not be able to taste them anyways, isn’t this a bit of a waste?” The young prince asked, taking a sip of the chamomile tea that was offered.

“You wouldn’t be able to taste them, no. As for me… I’ve started gaining my sense of taste back. My taste buds are still dull to most flavours, but my wifes baking is one of the few things I have the pleasure of being able to taste.” He explained, reaching to take a bite of a fruit tart.

“I see, so your wife must have made these then. Wait… Your… your wife?” The young Dimitri gave him a look of disbelief, he couldn’t have heard that correctly, could he have? He... He had a wife in the future. One that he clearly loved, judging by the smile on the king's face as he took a bite of the fruit tart.

“Yes, my wife. She’s also the queen, as I’m sure you’ve figured out.” He explained, taking great pleasure in the expressions his younger self was making. He’s never been the greatest at showing how he felt on his face, but in genuine moments like this, everything showed, and it was very amusing.

“Who… who is your wife?” Dimitri found himself asking, amazed that he, of all people, managed to settle down and get married. His older self didn’t look that old either, did he manage to achieve his ambitions of revenge for the dead so quickly? This was unexpected information for the prince.

Just as that question was asked, the two could hear light footsteps coming towards them, and a feminine voice called out, “Dimitri my love, are you here? The maids said I could find you here so I- ah…” She trailed off, looking at the pair, stunned to see the younger man wearing the academy uniform.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was you. An older version of you, who looked absolutely beautiful and radiant. Dimitri, of course, had been in denial about his feelings towards you for a while now; telling himself that you deserved someone better, someone who actually had a future. But no matter how often he denied it, the thoughts of ‘what if’ always crossed his mind. To see that his future self was married to you made his heart pound.

The king chuckled at the prince's reaction, and held a hand out, gesturing for his wife to come closer, “Come now, my beloved. After all, it is just me here.” He joked, smiling lovingly towards you. You shook your head as a small laugh managed to escape your lips, taking the kings hand, he pulled you closer.

“You… You’re… (y/n)? I… In the future I marry you?” The prince stuttered out, trying to get a hold of himself and put himself back together from this revelation. You gave him a kind smile and nodded, “As you can see for yourself, yes, Dimitri. But I have to ask, why are you here? Judging by your outfit, it looks like you’re still attending the officer’s academy…” you trailed off, your eyes running over his youthful figure with fondness.

“Do you recall that one time I went missing during the academy days, my love?” The older Dimitri asked, looking up at you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought for a bit, trying to recall the memory. After a little thinking, you gasped and nodded, “Yes, I remember! That was when Annette made a mistake while trying a spell! Oh, I was so worried about you, I- nevermind, that’s not what’s important right now.” You cleared your throat, blushing a bit.

“If you both wouldn’t mind too terribly, could I… ask some questions about the future?” The younger Dimitri managed to ask, after collecting himself together. He may as well take advantage of the situation and try to learn some things before returning back to his own time, after all.

“You may ask as many questions as you’d like. But we won’t answer everything for you, after all, there are things you need to learn and experience for yourself, no matter how dark they are… No matter how regretful they are...” The older Dimitri spoke up, eyeing his younger self with seriousness.

“No matter how dark they are?” The prince asked, frowning as he heard that. That didn’t sound too positive or hopeful for him. Surely everything couldn’t have ended up so badly, considering what he was seeing in the present moment. Then again he supposed, the man did have an eyepatch on him, and he seemed tougher now, as though he faced many hardships.

“Things are a lot better now. There’s still a lot of work to do, of course but… There were many dark times that had happened before any of this. I’ve gone through hell and back to be where I am today; what you’re seeing right now, is the rainbow after the storm. A terrible, ferocious, and bloody, long storm.” The older man took a deep breath, closing his eye. This was as much as he’d tell him in regard to the war; and the beast he was during it. His biggest and most important life lessons were learnt from those experiences, regardless of how awful they were. But no matter, he would look forward, and he has, since everything had ended. He had become a king for his people, working hard to restore the kingdom from the horrors of war.

“Then how about how… you two… ended up together?” He asked, his cheeks blushing as he looked at the couple. He wondered if this meant that you returned his feelings already in the present day, or if it was something that happened over time after you two graduated. You giggled in response to the flustered boy, it was cute being able to see him like this.

“Dimitri, I think you’ll be happier if you experience our love for yourself, don’t you? The relationship itself didn’t take all too long to get into. There’s a very good chance that the me of your time is already in love with you. But we couldn’t get married right away due to… a series of unfortunate events. Those events will feel long and grueling. But know this; no matter how hard things get, no matter how difficult and hopeless things seem, I will always stand by your side and support you as best as I can. Even when you don’t want me there, I will be. I loved the prince at the academy, and I love the kings’ whose side I stand by today. Nothing will change my unconditional love for you.” You beamed at him happily, looking over at your husband adoringly as he reached up to kiss the back of your hand in satisfaction.

“Thank you. In that case, I swear to do my best to stay by your side in my time. Though, I’m sure those words seem meaningless, since you two already know what happens in the future. You two look very happy together, I look forward to the day when I find myself in your own shoes.” He chuckled and looked over to the older version of himself.

“It’s a shame you only travelled this far in time, otherwise you would have had a chance to see the prince.” The older Dimitri spoke up, a smirk playing on his lips.

“The prince? You two have a child then?” His head tilted a bit to the side in confusion. That didn’t seem right. Sure, they were older, but old enough to have a son who was out of the castle? Unless their son was doing ridiculous and rigorous training methods at the young age of three, he doubted they had a child who was old enough to venture out of the castle walls without them.

“One on the way, actually.” You giggled at his expression, seeing it once again shift to shock, as his eyes slowly looked down at the slight bump that was starting to form on your stomach. “Three months along, almost four.” You explained before resting a single hand on your stomach lovingly. You had remembered the happiness that bore on your husband’s face the day you broke the news to him; finally, a family of your own.

Dimitri couldn’t believe this. All of this. In the future, he has a loving wife who loyally stands by his side and supports him no matter what, and the two of them had a child who was on their way into the world; they were starting their own family. He was touched by all of this newfound information. He never imagined himself having a future like this; having a future with the one he loved- you. It all felt like some foreign, distant dream and yet here he was, witnessing proof of everything that was to come.

“This is… Congratulations, I truly mean that. And thank you. Both of you. I hadn’t anything to look forward to for a long time. All hopes of a happy future like this, have long left me. But seeing you both here today.. Makes me believe I’m allowed to be hopeful. That I do have a future with her, aside from my ambitions. That perhaps I… I am allowed to be with her.” He closed his eyes, warmth filling his soul. It felt nice- his heart felt nice. He felt light, as though a huge weight on him had been lifted off.

The two of you smiled gently at him before the king stood up, “We should probably get you back to your time now, shouldn’t we? You wouldn’t want to keep your future wife waiting for you, after all.” He teased, grinning down at the prince. Dimitri nodded and stood up as well, more than ready to get back to his time. If he was lucky, perhaps he’d get back soon enough to still have some tea with you, and he could confess his feelings to you.

He paused for a second, “Ah but… How am I supposed to get back? Would you two happen to know a spell?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“I believe I’ve seen a book with a spell in it in the library. Let’s go there, I’m sure we’ll have you back in no time.” You spoke, before walking out of the gardens and towards the library. Both men nodded at each other before following you. The three of you browsed around, looking for any spell books that may have been of help. After several minutes of searching they both heard a triumphant “aha” from you.

You stepped in front of him, flashing him a kind smile once more, as you got ready to cast the spell.

“It was nice seeing you like this once again, Dimitri. It really made me remember our academy days together. Being with you, spending time with you during those days… Even if we were just training together or studying, it made me extremely happy. And being with the you of this time? Makes me even happier.” Your eyes watered, thinking of the long, hard path it took to end up where you were today; yet, you would change nothing, if it meant being where you are now. You wouldn’t give your husband and your soon-to-be son up for anything in the world. The older Dimitri gently held your back encouragingly, before looking back to his past self.

“The past isn’t everything, you must remember to look forward. I hope that being here today, has taught you that. And… Please take care of her, at all times.” The king admonished him.

The prince nodded as you casted the spell, he slowly started to fade out of the future, but before he disappeared completely, you both heard him call out, “Thank you for everything, I’ll cherish this memory”. And with that, the young Dimitri was transported back to his own time. You leaned on your husband’s shoulder, still staring at the spot the prince previously occupied.

“You know, I really was taken back in time, seeing you like that. Back then I thought you were handsome, but now I think you looked cute.” You joked.

“I did look different, didn’t I? He’s a little naive; he certainly has a lot of learning to do before he gets here. But you know there is one thing that never changed with time; how I felt about you. Back then, it was just some schoolboy crush. Now? I love you with everything that I am. You truly did stay true to your own words and stood by me all this time.” He leaned his forehead against your own, bringing you into a gentle kiss, his arms pulling you closer to him.

You slowly pulled away from the kiss, responding to him, “I will always be here for you, my love. I meant it before, I meant it in our wedding vows, and I mean it now. And you know, it looks like your past self did at the very least listen to your words- even when we couldn’t get to you back then, you still protected me on the battlefield. Though, back then you claimed it was because I was a valuable ally.” He nodded and held you close once more, enjoying the small proximity between the two of you.

After a minute of holding you in silence, he finally pulled away, before remembering; “Oh, but that does remind me of two questions I meant to ask you. The first one being about how you said you were worried about me when I time travelled back then. What did you do that you were so embarrassed to admit?” He questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Your face flushed as you laughed nervously, “Oh, that? I… To be honest with you, I was about to tear that monastery down looking for you. I was so worried that something terrible had happened to you. I was a real mess, panicking the way I did.” You laughed, remembering your own reaction when Annette had told you what she had accidentally done.

He chuckled and shook his head, “It’s a good thing I came back when I did then- otherwise the monastery would have been destroyed a lot sooner and I wouldn’t have had the chance to date you. That aside though, why were you looking for me earlier?”

“Oh, that? I was actually just wondering if you wanted to have some tea with me as a break since you’ve been working so hard lately. Though, I suppose there’s no need to ask that anymore, since you already had tea with your younger self” You answered, providing a small pout over the lack of tea time with your husband.

“There’s no need to make that face, my beloved. For you, I’m more than willing to have tea a second time. Come now, my love. Let’s go back to the gardens.” His eye sparkled with merriment as he held his arm out for you to take. You nodded happily and took his arm, both of you making your way to enjoy some tea and quality time together, discussing things of the past and the future to come.

Back at Garreg Mach, years into the past, Dimitri warped back to where he previously was, stumbling upon his landing. He looked around and let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like the spell worked! He was back in his own time, exactly where he had left it- in the Blue lions classroom. He brushed himself off before leaving the classroom, looking around to find you.

“Guys look! He’s over there, he’s back!” A voice shouted, as his classmates started to run up to him. You bolted up to him before the rest of the group and pulled him into a hug, “You’re safe! You’re back- I was so worried about you, Dimitri. I’m so relieved to see you here once again, it’s been hours since you’ve gone missing.” He smiled in reassurance and gently patted your back in comfort. You pulled away from his embrace as the rest of the group caught up, and stepped back from him, allowing him some space.

Before he could say anything to you, the rest of your classmates pulled up, looking worse for wear and out of breath. They had been searching endlessly for him for the past couple of hours just as you had, and were just starting to lose hope when he appeared before them all.

Annette spoke up first, “I’m so sorry your highness! I had no idea that the spell would teleport you somewhere! Are you alright?” She asked, guilt being expressed all over her face as she bowed to him.

He shook his head and smiled at her, “I’m alright, as you can see. Thankfully you didn’t teleport me anywhere dangerous.” He explained, reassuring everyone of his well-being.

“Where did you end up teleporting to?” Ashe asked, wondering where in the world the prince previously was.

“Ah I was… Just somewhere familiar. Really familiar. Close to the castle in Fhirdiad. I met a couple who was kind enough to help me out and send me back here.” He wore a smile on his face, thinking back to his future self and you.

“The boar is back, I’m going back to training.” Felix spoke up, with a tsk. He walked away with Sylvain and Ingrid following him, the former telling him to stop being so uptight with training, to relax a bit for once and the latter scolding him for being so cold with a childhood friend.

Annette bowed to him once again saying some more apologies for her mistake, before leaving with Mercedes to indulge in some sweets after the stress she had been through.

The professor expressed relief over his return before leaving to go inform the church. Thankfully, no knights would need to be dispatched to find Dimitri, and the conflict was resolved before word got out into the kingdom.

“I’m glad to see you safe, your highness.” Dedue spoke up quietly, relieved of his liege’s return. He bowed himself before making his way to the greenhouse, he was on gardening duty tonight, and although he had many questions about his highness’s whereabouts, they would have to wait until later. Ashe followed Dedue to help him with his task, and to keep him good company.

Dimitri chuckled at the antics of his own house before looking up at the sky. It was getting quite late in the day. He hasn’t realized how much time had passed himself, being caught up in all of the time travelling and questions he had. It was all well worth it though, if only to see how happy you two had ended up together.

He looked over at you once again, offering his arm out to you, “It may be later than the original time we had set, but would you still care to get that cup of tea with me?” He asked, a warm smile gracing his lips, as his eyes looked into your own affectionately. You beamed up at him and took his arm, starting to walk with him to have some tea together.

“Of course Dimitri, I’d love nothing more than that. Chamomile tea, as usual right?” You asked with a giggle, as he nodded in response.

“Chamomile tea. There’s something really important I wanted to tell you today over tea, actually- ah, but I’ll save that for when we’re actually at the table.”