#i imagine the crown of life to be slightly more difficult than the crown of death though

[canadianno]

I absolutely love concepts of gods of life in cotl, especially yours, with the crows!!! I have one as well for one of my own aus, who was narinder's twin, a white moth named seta, also "feel no evil" because her heart was ripped out by narinder

I would love to hear more of the crow though, that is such a cool idea with them!!! /vpos

Ahhhhh!!! This means so much!!! :]]

The idea I have in my head is that the original crowns of life and death were made upon the first instance of their domains- Life (white crow/dove?) was the first to live, and Death (black crow) as the first to die. In turn, it created the crowns!

Also, a fun note, the reason the crown of Life is lost is because- like the crown of Death- it doesn't project an aura of opposite affect, instead projecting it's normal effect. And, yknow, who would deny life?

[lightwing-s]

saw your post about peter blurbs and i had to send an ask🤭🤭

imagine peter being protective at the royal balls even though you two aren’t official🤞🏻🤞🏻

he keeps an eye on you while you talk to princes from other kingdoms and while he’s stood next to you he keeps a hand around you waist omg i’m gonna pass out and susan notices and points out his behaviour making you both blush cuz your just friends right😧😧

sorry that was pretty long omg but PETER😍🤞🏻♥️🤭🫶🏻😘

If anyone asked if you preferred to fight three hundred soldiers on your own or attend a royal ball, without thinking twice, you’d pick the first option. There was nothing in this world that could make you more nervous, more anxious and scared than a ball room full of people ready to judge you for every small detail, from your hair to your shoes, and the way you speak and if you’re proper while eating and referring to the many royals in the room.

You hated it, and couldn’t count the many times you sneaked out of a ball feeling your heart beating furiously and your sight getting blurring. The many times you had a panic attack for one interaction and Peter had to rush behind you to make sure you were okay.

And Peter was the sweetest. He’d sit with you for how goddamn long you needed to settle down your heart and mind, and he’d walk you to your chambers, tuck you in bed and kiss you goodnight before heading back to his High King duties. You were surprised it had been taking this long for people to figure out you two were more than just friends, but you were glad to still have your relationship just for the two of you.

In those few months you saw your friendship grow to be something more, you appreciated every moment you’d have just Y/n and Pete. No duties, no titles, just you. But if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, that meant getting used to balls, to festivals, to royal duties and diplomatic meetings. If he wanted you as his queen, which he’d constantly remind you with kisses and touches how much he’d want it, you had to get used to all of it.

Hence, there you stood on your own, talking with the prince of Archenland while your dress weighed you down, sitting tight around your body and making it difficult for you to breathe. Another two nobles joined in your conversation, and you started to breathe a lot faster, feeling your heartbeat join in on the speed race.

Suddenly, a warm hand sat on your waist, Peter's strong and imposing presence making itself known behind you. He looked you deep in your eyes, full of concern over you, sky blue boring into yours and a heavy dose of tranquillisers. Lowering his chin, he checked to see if you were alright, for which you gave him a soft smile, masking your nervousness to not freak him out.

For the longest time, Peter’s hand never left your waist, thumb caressing you through your dress. He held you too close, not that you would complain, but you knew it’d raise suspicion.

As your heartbeat had gone back to normal, your hand went to your waist, touching ever so slightly the tips of his fingers as a thank you for his presence.

“You did well, my love” he complimented you once you’re finally left alone, pulling you slightly closer.

“I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t arrived in time. I was about to freak out when he started talking about politics and trade.” Peter blew out a breathy laugh, hiding behind your head and sneaking it a kiss. Lowering himself a bit, he whispers in your ear.

“You’re going to make a great queen someday.” sneaking a glance at his handsome face, adorned with his heavy golden crown, you threw him a smile when you saw him playing on his face, a warmth climbing up your cheeks as his hand climbed a bit higher to rest just under your breasts.

“If you want to hide in a ball I suggest you do more than staying on the side.” Susan warned you as she appeared at your side. “You’re not doing your best at being discreet.” she said, glancing swiftly at where your hands met. “Peter, I guess the King wants to talk to you right at this moment.”

Noticing his sister’s insistent tone, he dismissed himself with a wave of the head and left you too alone, the place where his hands had been resting on your body feeling hollow with the sudden lack of warmth.

“I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but I support it.” she whispered, pushing you playfully with her shoulder. “Tonight, in your room, for the full details?”

A large smile growing in your face, you nod your head, excited to finally share with her your love story

.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally be writing for peter, keep sending in more x

[semipreciousgemstonejade]

About the letters...

There's particular parts that are affecting me way more than they should...

Firstly, the calligraphy is just so pleasant to observe. I enjoy looking at the way all of them are written and find it fascinating that the ones that are most difficult to read use a style that requires highly specialised training to execute.

The masterful strokes in each letter befittingly showcase their personalities.

What are your favourite parts? With or without the literal translation.

I would love to see an expert with no affiliation to Love and Deepspace nor with any knowledge of the game, give their interpretation of each letter.

I also forgot to thank the people that shared the letters for the global community to get to see them and others that contributed to the literal translation. Thank you!

And before you ask, regarding After reading his letter a million times..., yes, I am that dramatic.

Sylus

"I tried to find the reason why i accidentally fell so deeply, but realised that even if i did find the answer, it wouldn't mean anything- because that person is you." - Sylus

My thoughts...

I am captivated by the way he suggests with such an unfiltered honesty that he never intended to fall in love so deeply, that it was purely accidental, and by the time he realised what was happening it didn't even matter to him anymore. He stopped trying to figure it all out and just accepted it. For a man who is always 10 steps ahead, to be any number of steps behind in any situation must be quite frustrating. Maybe even quite frightening. Of course, not when it comes to her.

After reading his letter a million times...

I'd be outside his house banging on the door and holding his letter asking him if he meant every word he wrote. I'd want him to read his words to me aloud. Every word of every carefully crafted line. He's so poetically romantic, he'd likely be able to recite it from memory. I'd be ready to risk everything without hesitation to show him just how right he is about how alike we truly are.

Zayne

"For the first time, i want to thank those maybes and those accidents. Thank you for existing. Thank you for all the choices you made before we met, which led me to meet you, at the perfect minute, that perfect sound, which i can't imagine could be even more flawless." - Zayne

My thoughts...

His mind is sharp and his hands are precise and confident. He is well aware of the potentially harmful consequences if he even so much as slightly hesitates in his profession. His work is his life, so it makes sense that this notion would permeate his personal life. For him to entertain the idea of 'maybe' after an accidental encounter, has opened his mind to possibility that not all accidents carry the same type of risk. Not only is the other person's happiness in his hands, but his in now in theirs and whilst that can be scary, it comes with many wonderful consequences that positively impact his life.

After reading his letter a million times...

I would make sure he's home and call him on the phone whilst I'm outside his front door. When he opens the door asking why i didn't just let myself in, I'd tell him that it is only fair that the person who has dedicated his very existence to protecting my heart should be the rightful owner. I'd thank him for existing, because I likely wouldn't exist without him.

Xavier

"Before i met you, i was used to walking along a road alone without hesitation, and with very little expectations for anything else. But now i definitely hope, the end of the path i choose will always be connected to yours." - Xavier

My thoughts...

I adore this more because they passed notes to each other in class in his anecdote, When Shooting Stars Fall. Back then, she made the first move and saw right through every shield and barrier. Since then, the former lonely Crown Prince, still meticulous with his words, is more open and less guarded. Whenever he tries to walk alone at night or sleep outside, she offers him companionship or tells him to stay with her.

After reading his letter a million times...

In the early hours of the morning I would go up to his apartment, let myself in and crawl into his arms. When he asks what's wrong, I'd tell him that I missed him and that i never get tired of hearing the person i love most in this world telling me they miss me. But what I'd need him to be aware of the most is that he is also my way of life and that i will thank him everyday for finding every version of me in every lifetime so that i get to fall in love with him over and over.

Rafayel

"Whether I'm painting, soaking in a bath, or sleeping, i have to carve out a space in my mind that's only yours; otherwise, before long, my mind will be completely taken over by your 101 types of cuteness." - Rafayel

My thoughts...

I love when a person who makes everyone laugh feels safe and comfortable to let their walls down and share their serious side with you. She occupies his every thought to the point that he simply must create a special area in his mind where she can exist separately so that he can function.

After reading his letter a million times...

I would meet him at the beach during morning's twilight. I'd be standing and waiting in the shallow part of the water. When he sees me, I'd call his name and tell him to come to me with my hand stretched out towards him. When he puts his hand in mine and asks what's going on, I'd tell him that I'm glad that whenever my heart calls his name, he'll always be by my side. That he can trust me to protect him when he's at his weakest. That I'm not afraid of what he'll become.

[sky-kiss]

Can't Have Mornings without a Sun

A/n: @molinaesque asked for some soft!Raph/Tav, and I'm cold so like. I dunno. Here's whatever this is.

R/T: This is fine in the winter. It won't fly in the summer, devil boy.

Did a devil dream?

Tav thinks she read something about it once, years prior. A lifetime ago. The words are lost, but the sentiment remains. They didn't. Devils didn't dream, sleep, or eat; they were beyond or divorced from humanity. 

Raphael dreams. 

She frowns, pushing up on her elbow to observe him. His nudity is somehow the most negligible intimate factor in the equation; it's his wild hair, the little huffs of breath bordering on a snore, and the way his mouth falls open ever so slightly in sleep. It's humanizing in a way Tav knows he'd despise. She reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The cambion grumbles, turning his face into her pillow. He doesn't stir. 

That surprised her; Tav had expected him to sleep lightly. 

She's afforded some time to think here in the early morning hours. The sunlight cuts through the bedroom window in jagged diagonals, only just falling over the bed. It'll be a half hour at least before it reaches her, and the light seems content to linger across her lover's nude form, bisecting his thighs and abdomen. She drags her nails across this dividing line, chuckling when Rapahel shifts. He grumbles something, shuffling nearer. It's a difficult task. In sleep, he's tactile. Her head remains pillowed on his arm (it must be numb by now), one of his legs hooked over her hip. In the grand scheme of things, she supposes it's possessive or instinctual. Technicalities that she'll argue at a later date. For now, all that matters is she's warm; he's here. 

And that's odd, too. In all Tav's imaginings, Raphael took his leave immediately after their first coupling. He would kiss her hand, thank her for her service (perhaps with a wink), and leave her cold. And yet.

She frowns, stroking his cheek. And yet, there's a dreaming devil in her bed. He's more mortal than he'd like to admit. Ageless, and yet there are crows feet near the corners of his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. There's gray in his hair and dark bags from one too many sleepless nights. There are scars on his chest and ribs, and she wonders, not for the first time, what his life was like before they met. He's lived so long…thirty of her lives? Fifty? It's so much space to cover, so much weight. 

He is an odd thing. Tav struggles to quantify him, let alone understand. Her fingers tease back into his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. Touching him helps; it makes him feel…real. She's not deluded enough to call him soft, only handsome. So achingly handsome. 

"You're thinking," Raphael grumbles. He opens his eyes just long enough to glare, though the haziness robs the expression of its strength. "Loudly. A dangerous occurrence in your best moment, let alone before sunrise." 

Tav snickers. "Funny, I'd have expected you to be more of a morning person." 

"There are no mornings in Hell, pet." 

His tone remains petulant. Raphael reaches out for her shoulder. He shoves. It's enough to set her off balance; years of experience tell her to throw her weight into the motion instead of fighting it. Either way, she finds herself on her back, staring up at the ceiling first and Raphael shorting after. He presses up on his arms, settling himself between her legs before letting himself drop. Tav grunts as his weight drives the air from her lungs. 

"You deserved that," he says by way of apology, nosing into her throat. 

"Raphael?" 

"Sleep, little mouse. Or I will find a more suitable pillow." 

Tav rolls her eyes, ducking her head to kiss the crown of his skull. 

[springbreezes-and-peonies]

Peony

Peony can’t recall her own birthday, as the concept of dates and years is difficult to grasp when every day you live in solitude. In perfect, peaceful, sunny bliss. Like the summers of a childhood long past, free, vivid, warm…Everyday a flowering spring morning after rain, quiet and happy and perfectly, perfectly safe. She cannot read, or write. And indeed she would fumble through any attempts to keep a schedule or track of time even if she were trying with all her willpower. But, she can garden. She has a natural tendency to plants, a bond with them as innate as breathing, as pumping blood to your heart, and it is a blessing for her too, because her plants love her, and she loves them. She can hear them, as if they have little voices of their own, speaking to her, in her mind and in her heart. Peony cannot read, but she can sense the struggles of a bed of mums from many yards away. She cannot write, but she can hear the rare and beautiful, (and maybe slightly discordant) songs of wildflowers and weeds. Dandelions, clover blossoms, and speedwell sing in a harmony, or perhaps disharmony, all their own and it is something most people will never hear. She does not know her birthday (though the plants tell her she is 26? 27? 30?) but she can heal a dying rose bush with her touch, her kiss could mend even a wilting belladonna, and she dances with all of the grace and abandon of petals caught by a gentle spring breeze, of a girl raised by flowers and ferns and trees, of a lady who knows not what shame or humiliation are, and who is perfectly, entirely: herself.

She lives a very warm and happy life, even in solitude as her plants love her and guide her. Indeed she was named by the flowers, for when she came drifting to the lonely sky island on the outskirts of the Floralian kingdom’s archipelago, dropped by the wind with care at the feet of weeping willows, atop soft moss, they thought she may have BEEN a Peony and not a darling little moth-caterpillar. She was so covered in flower petals gathered in the breeze, they could be forgiven for such a mistake. The plants could not have known how such a name would come to suit her as she grew and matured, once her metamorphosis passed, and she became a lovely, grown moth-kind, she certainly resembled a Peony more and more. Her skin petal-pink, a cotton-candy crown of her curls atop her pretty pink head, curling playfully around her fuzzy gold moth antennae. Her sunset eyes light up her face and up close (or when especially excited) they sparkle and gleam as if they’ve been splashed by morning dewdrops, and beneath them, glittering, gold freckles dot her soft cheeks. She is a woman in love with dresses, flowing, playful, petal-y dresses with tiers and layers and ribbons.

Yes, Peony is very happy, for this solitude does not feel quite like solitude when the shy violets tell you their secrets, or the playful daisies gossip to you of what they’ve heard on the breeze of life in the castle.

“Did you hear?? The beloved Queen has transformed her appearance so completely! Folks say she doesn’t go out as much anymore and spends time alone in her room, managing her appearance…”

“Oh???” Peony asks, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Well, that’s what the hollyhocks in the castle gardens say. They say they see Lord Taranza more and more each day too. Alone. She must be spending less time with him as well…They say he seems very sad.”

“How terrible…” She frowns, and truly does feel quite sorrowful. “From all accounts he loves her dearly…I cannot imagine how that must feel…”

And this is more than true. For this is the one sadness in Peony’s life of bliss and summery wonder: she cannot imagine how this heartache must feel, for she has never had any sort of bond with another. She has heard gossips of friendship and love from her plants. Acts of kindness and care, of platonic bonding, of romantic courtships…She has known little of either. The flowers and trees and ferns are all good and sweet and loving in their way, but as she grows and matures she begins to feel they are a poor substitute for interaction with one of her kind, another Floralian, someone like her. But no one ever visits her little sky island, and a life of solitude makes her wary of fluttering off with her wings and venturing out to the more populace sections of the kingdom. So, she stays. She gardens. She watches the sunsets and stargazes as the dandelions whisper and sing to her, she kisses their seedlings off into the sweet breeze, hoping that at least they may sprout their roots somewhere that will give them all they need, all they pine for, and she does her best to be content with this life she’s been given…

And, for the most part, Peony is content. But hopes, and day dreams, and desires have a way of persisting no matter the distractions, and this desire has been pressed to within the tender soils of her heart by her own gentle hands, and like the seed it is, it takes root, and grows until she can think of nothing else but knowing the love of another, to go without threatens to split her delicate heart in two.

“I want a friend…” She whispers sorrowfully.

“We’ll be your friends!” A chorus of sunny daffodils replies in cheerful affection.

“I know.” Peony responds, and smiles sadly to herself.

“I want a beloved…I want to feel loved.” She sighs, laying in the empty, colorful fields on a cloudy day.

“We’ll love you Peony! You care for us everyday! You tend to us so carefully, even when we prick you with our thorns, you sing to us and talk to us and help us grow! You are beautiful inside and out!” The roses exalt her passionately, and honestly. But Peony sighs in response and simply nods her head.

“I know…” She whispers again, that same sad smile set on her pretty pink lips, as if it’s been carved there, immutably.

Then one day, everything changes. It is bright, sunny morning like many on her cozy island, and Peony is in her yard, in her garden, tending to her plants. She hums softly to herself and whispers gentle affirmations to her little plants, tending them with love and care, her melancholy pushed to the back of her mind as she sets her mind and heart to her task.

“My, my…What’s a gorgeous little creature like yourself doing all alone on this island…?” A voice. A non-plant voice, warm and smooth like a summer evening drifts to her ears, her antennae twitch and tickle…as she hears it…She moves her eyes from her work and looks around, and at the gate of her garden she can see him standing there, leaning on the fence…A moth-kind like herself…His skin gold…hair long and dark like a starless sky, his eyes black shadows on his golden face that seem to bear into her heart…A span of gold and black wings at his back, six dark, gloved hands rest on her wooden fence as he watches her from outside her garden, as if he’s studying a work of art…His voice, his presence, his appearance are so strange and so regal to Peony. She takes a breath. She tries to speak but the words simply won’t come. She can’t find them. They’re lost to her under his gaze.

“I don’t mean to frighten you, precious girl. I was simply struck by your beauty as I was flying by…” He explains, his words sweet as honey, his tone soft but confident. He does not approach closer than the fence.

“O-oh…Golly…” Peony blushes deeply, her pink face growing ever pinker. She is struck by his words…Something strange, something new is blooming in her heart, making her chest feel tight and her breath fall short. She is nervous…anxious…a little fearful of this stranger, but oh so excited. This is so new. The mundane is shattered. This is something different in days and days that pass in a sunny, flowery blur, this is unique…

The stranger chuckles softly as Peony merely stares at him, in awe of him. He shakes his head playfully at her.

“Are you always this way when you meet a stranger my dear?” He asks, his voice a reverie ringing in her ears.

“I-I…I don’t meet people often sir…” Peony replies, raising two of her yellow-gloved hands to her burning cheeks. She continues, a little breathlessly. “I-in fact you’re the first other than my plants…”

“Really?” The stranger tilts his head curiously, his black, pin-like antennae curl inquisitively at this.

“Mhm.” Peony smiles, feeling a little more at ease as they converse. The stranger grins.

“Well then it is quite an honor and a delight to be the first visitor you have little flower.” He chuckles again, enthusing over her.

Peony feels herself become so flushed and so shy with every compliment he gives…his praise of her beauty is overwhelming for her, his very presence is such a shock to her system, but she dare not retreat. She feels innocently and quickly taken with him. And from this day on, her days of pure, childlike, mundanity were over.

The stranger begins to visit every day. He watches Peony garden from just outside her garden gate, leaning against the wooden posts, his dark eyes seemingly unblinking as her gentle hands tend to her flowers, her plants. His voice, his words are almost entrancing to her, as if his speech is a spell cast upon her heart and soul.

“The flowers tell me you are lonely.” He says, his tone sympathetic and kind.

“They do??? You can speak to them too???” She asks, so very stunned by this. They are alike. So alike. Finally, someone like her…

“I can. And they do. Is that true pretty girl?” He asks gently of her.

“It was…” She responds shyly, the blush returning to her face, causing her pink face to nearly glow with its rosy tinge.

“Oh? It was?” He smiles at this, gazing affectionately at her rosy cheeks.

“It was…”

Days begin to come and go quickly for Peony now. Every morning she rushes herself from bed, her pink and gold wings abuzz to get to her garden, to see this man…This man who has captured her heart. Every day they spend longer and longer together, the hours fly by so quickly, too quickly as the instant he is gone she is pining for his company again. He stays at the garden gate, never entering, always watching, listening to her talk about flowers and plants and her abilities with them, smiling to her, showering her with praise, and compliments and adoration.

One day, it is very late, and she is still in the garden, he is still nearby, listening to her sweet babble about her flowers and her gardening skills, and after a long moment he tenderly interrupts.

“Peony…Do you trust me?” He asks of her, as if she wouldn’t at this point, as if there is so much weight to this question.

“Do I trust you?? Of course I trust you!” She answers in kind, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “I trust you with my whole heart! With my soul!” She enthuses, a wide smile cross her face, her pink eyes sparkling with joy, with pure, true, honest love.

He smiles, his eyes like pools of the night sky surrounding them on his golden face.

“Then may I come in and sit beside you awhile?”

Peony blushes faintly at this, fiddling shyly with the pink bow tied round her neck, but after a moment she nods, realizing she’d want nothing more. She’d never wanted anything more.

At once, he opens the wooden gate, and moves smoothly, elegantly to her, as if the grass was made to bend to his graceful passage. He sits beside her, very close, facing her, his eyes gazing unblinking into hers. He is silent for a time, and all Peony can hear is her breath sharp in her throat, and her heart beating against her chest as though it would escape and offer itself to this man of its own volition if it could. She gulps.

“H-hi.” She simply says. She’s never been this close to him before…She’s never been this close to anyone before.

“Hello.” He responds, chuckling softly, and as Peony listens she is only now noticing, there is a faint, whispering echo to his silken voice when he speaks.

She tilts her head, moving her face close to his, her wings buzzing as she examines his face up close with great curiosity. She flutters all around him, looking him over close up as much as she can before landing and sitting across from him once more.

“Beautiful…” She murmurs sweetly, honestly…

He chuckles again, shaking his head gently. “My dear, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to give you a kiss…” He whispers to her, such tenderness to his voice. “Your very first…”

Peony gasps, and hesitates at this. She feels a little unsure, such a gesture is so grand, so new for her. She thinks hard for a moment. She remembers all her days of yearning for someone, a friend, a companion, a beloved. She remembers the strain on her heart, the melancholy and mundanity and how his simple presence shattered that, and she knows she wants to kiss him. She longs to with her entire heart. She nods.

“Oh I’m so delighted my flower. Would you close your eyes? Then I will give you your kiss…” He sighs softly, tilting her chin up delicately.

She gazes upon his beautiful, golden face…and she shuts her eyes…

And for a moment she feels nothing at all. She doesn’t even feel his presence before her. She doesn’t feel his hand tilting her chin. She doesn’t even feel the grass beneath her. She opens her eyes and sees nothing. Only darkness. Then, in an instant, a rush of unbearable, insurmountable feelings begin to course through her mind. Feelings of sorrow, of anger, of hatred, feelings so unfamiliar to the innocent moth. She feels intense pain and agony and as she opens her mouth to scream no sound comes out. He is gone. Everything is gone. Something is horribly, horribly wrong…She passes out with one final thought as consciousness drifts away…’I didn’t even get my kiss…’

After an unknowable amount of time, consciousness returns to her, and she can see again, but she still feels entirely numb. And as she focuses hard, she realizes in horror what her vision is seeing…Her own hands, her own self, destroying her plants, and not just her garden…not just her plants, but everything in sight. Her powers working in opposition to their natural state, everything she touches falling to decay…Even worse, she cannot stop, she is not in control…Some dark force has her possessed, something is piloting her body, destroying her home against her will. A deep sorrow fills her heart, making her sick to the pit of her stomach as the realization dawns on her…

“It’s him. He wasn’t even real. He…He was some darkness pretending in order to get ahold of me…To do this.” She cannot scream. She cannot cry. She can only look on in horror, trapped inside herself like a prisoner in her own mind, as she destroys everything she’s ever loved with her own hands. She hears ferns, flowers, even trees who have sheltered her for her entire life as she has sheltered them call out to her in pain, pleading for an end to this, but there is nothing she can do and no end in sight. There is no reprieve from this destruction, or the very new, very keen sadness it brings.

Time passes for awhile like this. Days. However long Peony cannot say, but the destruction does not end. She feels numb, lost, grey…She wants an end to it, anything for it to stop…Then one bright, cloudless day, she sees something as her face turns towards the sky…a ball of pink floating towards her against the blue…It gets closer…QUICKLY closer! It’s coming for her!

Peony is stunned, this small, pink, round creature is quickly upon her! Its eyes bright blue, within them the very images of the stars. It attacks with tenacity and speed she does not expect. She watches, helpless to stop herself as her possessed form begins to strike back against it, calling forth plants, vines, striking out with everything available to her.

“Oh no! No please don’t hurt the little thing!” She cries in her mind for it to stop, but she continues fighting back…and yet…so does the little pink ball…He bounces effortlessly back no matter how hard she hits him…He fights with such courage, such determination, she realizes he will not give up, and the darkness possessing her won’t allow her to either…At the end of this confrontation, one will be slain. She is filled with fear for the little pink creature, though he is strong, surely he cannot stop her slaughter…?

The battle wages on, no matter how many times the pink creature is hit, he refuses to give up, and after fighting him off for sometime, she can see her movements are becoming slow, sloppy, weak, and yet he is just the same as he was at the start…Finally, after sometime it’s over. Peony is defeated, and she feels her vision fading…as she is once again blacking out.

“It’s over…I’m through…If this is how I leave this life then……then…”

For a time she thinks no more……

And suddenly…her eyes are fluttering open…and she can move herself! She is in control again! And the first thing before her as her sparkling pink eyes open up, is that little pink ball! He has such a concerned look on his plush, pink face, his eyes nearly pressed to her own, swirling stars in their blue pools, gentle, childish sounds coming from him. He taps her head tenderly with one of his rounded arms, making a quizzical, concerned sound.

Peony feels a wave of relief washing over her. She’s alive, she’s okay…But something else washes over her as well, something doubtlessly caused by this creature’s presence, this pure, boundless happiness and warmth and…love. Real love. She can’t contain herself, laughter is bubbling up within her, desperate to escape, and she picks up the tiny pink ball with her six hands and spins around happily with him, laughing with such bliss, such warmth, and she can hear him laughing too. ‘Kirby’…The name passes through her mind as she affectionately bumps her forehead to his, and she blinks in understanding. She kisses his head lightly, hugging him tight, both of them laughing some more.

“Thank you Kirby…” She whispers to him, tears forming in her eyes, tears of freedom and peace…She feels Kirby squeeze her tighter in a hug, cooing affectionately, soothingly to her and something in her feels like everything is going to be alright…

After their embrace, Kirby takes off on his Warpstar, waving goodbye. Peony waves back, sighing heavily, a deep, regretful feeling slowly enveloping her as she looks at the destruction surrounding her. All her plants, her friends, and she can hear the sorrow they feel, the pain, the grief…She thinks hard for a moment, and takes a deep breath…There is one thing at least she can do.

Peony flutters up into the sky, high enough so she can see all of the surface of her island in view. She gathers her wits, and her strength. “I’m sorry. I will undo this pain my friends. I will never take you for granted again…”

She cries out hard, letting out an intense burst of energy that coats the dying grass and trees, glittering with life, with her love, coaxing things to be born anew…to heal…to live…And as her plants are healed by the forces deep within her very soul, she gently sinks against the grass to sleep…very much in need of rest…

Once Peony wakes, the flowers and plants are lively, they are coming back, all thanks to her…But Peony can no longer hear them, her touch no longer coaxes the dying petals of flowers back to their prime, and if they can understand her still she does not know. She sighs, smiling sadly, gazing out at the sky as the sun rises…”It will be okay…It’s just…a new start.” She looks up at the clouds, and blows a gentle kiss up to them, hoping it may reach Kirby, that little pink ball who saved her, who gave her a second chance…

[syndrossi]

This is long I’m so sorry it’s my hyper fixation at the moment please tell me if I’m annoying.

I’m curious about the nurture vs nurture aspect of Resonant. There’s so much to explore when you think about it. On one hand, Jon grew up with a father uncle that loved him and raised him but also allowed him to be treated as lesser by his wife. He grew up with a bunch of siblings, being taught the same things as his true born siblings but knowing that he would never use a lords education or rule a massive keep like his siblings will. He was raised to always be aware of his status, not fitting in with the lords sons and daughters but also not fitting in with the staff. He had to earn the same things that were given to the very people he grew up with. He grew up with the example of what he could have but knowing he never would. Even if he was granted a keep and married, he would still be lesser than his siblings in matches and property. I think that’s one of his driving forces to excel and also why he has such compassion for others.

Then he takes vows of unending service and celibacy at the age of 14. He sees or hears about most of his family dying, is stuck to his duty and then fights a war for years. Against the dead. Finds out his entire life was a lie, gets betrayed and murdered, comes back, rides a dragon. that’s a lot.

Now in this life, he was raised a slightly neglected lordling. He still might have been whispered about, regarding his birth, but no one was calling him a bastard. He has one sibling to focus all his love and attention on, and he’s a son not of a lord paramount but of a normal noble house, (or was before being discovered as Daemons) so the pressure is far less. Even when he “wakes up” there’s still bits of Jon Redfort there.

That brings me to the nurture/nurture bit. How will it change him to now grow up a second time but as a prince of the blood? He once again has a loving father but this time that love is openly shown. Can you imagine Daemon allowing Jon or Rhaegar to be insulted? Absolutely not. So now his first original childhood and teenage years are at work with his second life. I am so excited to see who he ends up as a person. Will be retain his compassion and kindness for those under him? Will the ease of life as a prince make him more complacent? Does he have several identity crisis? How does this affect his choices growing up? For example would he still have distain for tourneys? Would he absolutely refuse to go to a brothel? Does he fight to prove himself or does he feel more confident and comfortable and it softens him?

Now on to Rhaegar. He breaks my heart because he is so traumatized in such a different way. Original Raymar was neglected to a different degree as a child. He was shown distain and mockery, clearly a bastard even if no one said it to his face. He was clearly in disfavor at home, and only had his brother and lady Lynda for true company. But he was still raised a lord and given an education and treated as such. But now that he’s poofed into Rhaegar things are so different. He was used to being the crown prince, which came with a lot of deference and obedience, as well as pressure. He grew up in one of the hardest times to be a Targ, dragons gone, power slipping, family absolutely tiny. He grew up with a loving mother who relied on him for emotional support and made him grow up quickly. He was also given a very isolated childhood. His stories break my heart because his only playmate was himself. Now there’s Jon and all these cousins and a father that isn’t coo coo bananas but he’s still being weighed down with the guilt that he is missing from his mothers life which puts her in even more danger.

Not only that but he’s now the lowest in succession. It must be difficult, if freeing, to no longer be the crown prince, the hope of the family and seven kingdoms. Buts it’s also really got to mess with your head. It brings the question of “who am I, if not the future king?” Rhaegar is set to inherit nothing, owed nothing. How would that affect him?

Obviously all this will be answered in the story but it’s so intriguing to think about. It’s what I love most about this fic. The world building is so fascinating, the sweet moments are precious, the mystery is awesome but it’s also such a fascinating character study of who we are and how we grow being such a building block of existence.

What a thought-provoking ask!

You're right that there are, like, three "pieces" to each of the twins that they're being forced to reconcile: the teens they were before, their original "Redfort" counterparts, and with the reduction in age, even pieces of their original childhood selves. It means there's a lot of hurt and baggage from all of those places!

For Jon, the inequality of his original childhood is much more in the forefront. He loved Ned and his siblings, but in a loving family where he's equal (trueborn brother/son), the difference is even more clear. While his adult/teenage self mostly tries to cope the way he always has, by repressing those feelings, focusing on "more important" matters. Except when you're a child again, there aren't nearly the number of distractions, so it's hard not to dwell.

Then there's Jon Redfort, buried deep under. He wasn't mistreated quite the same way Raymar was, but he still grew up an orphan, mostly ignored by Allard and treasuring every one of Rhea's visits. (Lady Lynda is a fairly new arrival in the past 2-3 years, and she's definitely helped.) That little boy does mourn Rhea, and he absolutely wants/needs Daemon's love.

So there's a lot of "nurture" origins sort of jumbled together. And as you said, his circumstances are suddenly quite different--at least, relative to child!Jon. (By the end, he was a respected hero, proclaimed trueborn, and Dany's heir--though still lugging around a lot of buried grief and regret about his Stark family.) It's a much softer life for sure, where respect (or at least deference) is given without needing to be earned, he has a nigh-smothering amount of love from Daemon, and he's at least in the discussion to become lord of Runestone.

The most shaping influences are probably his immediate family and the threat(s) facing them, the latter of which his instinct will be to cling tightly to Lord Commander Jon. That person can protect Rhaegar and Daemon, has experience with strange magics and world-ending threats. But that's also not an every day thing. Most days are spent as a young prince being educated in the Red Keep.

We'll see what effect that has, and how well shutting out Jon Redfort works out for Jon. (Your question about whether things like his attitude towards tourneys or brothels change at all is an interesting one!)

Rhaegar, meanwhile, is a different mess. He's much closer to childhood than Jon, who lived almost a lifetime (and died!) in five years, from age fourteen to nineteen. He's had to grow up quicker than many his age, by virtue of both his position and who his parents are, but fourteen is definitely still a child. That's at least one reason why it's easier for him to be open to Raymar, and that's a rough combo, though at least he ripped that bandaid off.

Like you said, Raymar was treated differently than Jon, the attitudes toward them not unlike Robb-and-Jon, with Raymar filling Jon's role of "that's a bastard." Raymar longed no less for Rhea's visits/love, and he received the smallest of crumbs, and still he clung to them. Thank goodness for Lady Lynda's arrival, she probably saved that little boy from becoming a complete mess. At least Jon had Ned in addition to Robb! Raymar had only Jon for most of his life, and Lady Lynda for the past 2 or so years.

His life as Rhaegar was differently lonely, but at least he had Rhaella's love. (And let's not talk about Rhaella's rough life. A mother at fourteen, herself still a child--she was a teenager until Rhaegar was six! And twenty-eight when he disappeared, left alone with Aerys's growing madness.) She had very little power, unfortunately, so it was a careful love. Weirdly it was a bit like Ned's? Ned had to tiptoe around Cat with Jon. Rhaella had to do similarly with Rhaegar (and he with her), lest they provoke Aerys.

In terms of responsibility, he had everything--an overwhelming amount even. Crown prince with an unstable father entirely aside, Jaehaerys II drilled it into him (until he died when Rhaegar was six) that he was TPTWP, and he was meant to save the world from a great threat. Combined with his dreams/nightmares, it was an enormous pressure. In the aftermath of Jon describing his defeat of the Others, I think Rhaegar is currently riding the high of "thank the gods that burden is no longer mine, if it ever was." It feels freeing to be no one, just one prince of many, without any expectations.

Does he continue to feel that way as time passes? We'll have to see. Rhaegar does seem like someone who's happy when he has a purpose, so it comes down to him finding and carving one out. Is it easier without the heavy weight of expectation crushing him? Probably!

The threat hanging over both of their heads, Volantis aside, is the Dance they know about from the histories, which doomed their family and their dragons. So even though their family circumstances are happier, and the expectations of them flipped, they still have something driving them.

*squints* Not my most coherent answer, but I don't think you had a specific question, so it's just the two of us happily rambling at one another! 😅

[trickstarbrave]

hi i wrote this half awake again but

a lil bit of an exposition dump. steren also wakes up. kinda sad still (actually. rly sad) but dw it'll cheer up. just give it some time

vivienne from @mulberrycafe (so you all know they are in vivi's world. not steren's home world)

--

��Ah, my champion,” Azura was in better spirits than when Nerevar last spoke to her like this, at least. “I was hoping you would find that child. I’m glad the two of you were able to meet soon.”

“The Dunmer with a star on his face?” Nerevar asked. If so, that would mean it was Azura’s doing, which only raised more questions.

“Yes.” She replied, smiling. “Steren.” She then tilted her head. “I thought you would be spending time with him and asking him questions.”

“He’s unconscious because he has hypothermia.” Nerevar frowned. “He’s lucky we found him when we did or he’d be dead.”

Azura seemed upset at that, though more worried than angry.

“… I hadn’t intended to drop him here so suddenly.” She admitted. “I had to make a hasty decision.”

“Who is he?” Nerevar declined to inquire about why she brought the boy to Solstheim for the time being. Who Steren even was was a much more pressing question.

“Steren is from another world.” Azura finally admitted after a moment of pause. “One much like this one.”

A more intellectual person like Lucien might take the chance to ask all sorts of questions about different worlds and what that meant, but Nerevar wasn’t the type. He’d hardly understand it and didn’t particularly care if there were more worlds like his own given there wasn’t much he could do to interact with them until now. Not to mention it’s not the first time a daedric prince had offhandedly mentioned it in either lives.

“Why does he have the Moon and Star ring?” Nerevar wanted answers to determine if he was a threat or not.

“He is the one who fulfilled the Nerevarine prophecy.” Came Azura’s firm reply.

“The prophecy…?” Nerevar’s brows furrowed. He’d quite like to chew her out sending a kid who looked like he’d barely reached maturity out to kill gods, but she was already in a foul mood from her spat with Mephala and Boethiah. “Then he’s me?”

Azura shook her head, a sort of sadness in her eyes. “He is not your reincarnation, no.” She then closed her eyes, giving a soft sigh.

“In that world you had a son.” Nerevar froze stiff, and Voryn did the same beside him. “He is your son’s reincarnation, following that family line.”

“I had a son?!” Nerevar looked even more alarmed. How much different had that world been then? If there was a crown prince to carry on his legacy, had the tribunal killed him too? Was he used as a political pawn? Raised to take his place in the prophecy? Nerevar wouldn’t have allowed that. He wouldn’t have made his son do such a difficult task— 

And what about Ayem?! If he did everything Nerevar did, did he have to kill his own mother? Nerevar couldn’t imagine a more cruel life. But why had Almalexia even agree to a child in that world?! If things were so different there, surely their relationship would have been better. Had she still gone along with his death?

“You did.” Nerevar’s mind was still running a mile a minute with the information, barely even hearing Azura. “With Voryn Dagoth.”

“What?!” Nerevar stared at the goddess like she had grown two heads. “How in Oblivion—“

“In that world you had a different set of anatomy.” She replied very bluntly, and Nerevar smacked himself on the forehead. Right, that would explain it. 

“Then what happened to my son?” Nerevar asked, still worried. “Was I still king—queen?” 

“You were king, yes.” Azura moved to a slightly less formal position, looking a bit deflated. “It had been an accident. A moment of passion with you and your beloved, much like in your first lifetime here.” Nerevar could see that honestly. He found it hard to imagine a version of himself that wouldn’t fall for Voryn. “And you had given him to Voryn to be raised under House Dagoth, for his protection.”

“He was a secret then.” Voryn sounded… Unsteady and a bit breathless, baffled by the circumstances. “He wouldn’t have been safe with Neht, especially if the rest of the great houses found out he had Steren with me.”

“Precisely.” Azura closed her eyes once more. The goddess didn’t often show anxiety like mortals did, but Nerevar could tell the crease in her brows was unusual. “And when he was still young, the Battle of Red Mountain occurred.”

It was unspoken what she meant with everything else, as an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Nerevar felt cold, and Voryn tightened his grip on Nerevar’s hand, trembling slightly. 

Steren had been orphaned then. Both of his parents were killed, and he was likely too young to really understand what happened.

“The false gods sent him to House Indoril. They attempted to raise him. Guide him. To ease their guilt no doubt.” Yes, Nerevar could see that. Back then, Vivec, Sotha Sil, and Almalexia had deluded themselves into thinking killing him and Voryn was the right thing to do. For both selfish reasons, and for the good of the people. But he didn’t think they had it in them to kill Nerevar’s only child just to tie up loose ends.

“Steren grew, and eventually learned he was of House Dagoth. He sought answers they refused to give him, and so he left to seek it out himself.” Azura sighed. “He married and had a child, before soon meeting his own end.” Nerevar hated the way she said it so simply; his child being lost and alone in the world looking for answers was not something she could just casually brush off like that. “And you,” Azura looked at Nerevar again, “You refused my call to Moonshadow. Even the Tribunal could faintly sense your soul and tried to seal you in a bone walker, and yet through force of will you resisted even that.” That was pretty impressive all things considered, Nerevar would admit. “You refused to leave your child alone in the world, so you haunted him. And then his child. Then his child’s child…”

“I stayed there the whole time,” Nerevar asked, a sadness in his chest that still left him feeling cold, “Right?”

“Yes. Until Steren was reborn.” Azura sighed. “You refused to rest, let alone incarnate, so I had to use his soul. You had already modified the enchantment, and the prophecy had to be fulfilled.”

Nerevar paused, about to ask another question, before Voryn snapped.

“You sent him to kill Dagoth Ur?!” Voryn looked furious. 

“Someone had to.”

“You sent him to kill his own father!” Voryn was trembling in rage now. “Even if I was lost and mad, he was still my son—I could have killed him!”

“And you tried.” Azura said simply, only adding to Voryn’s rage. “Dagoth Ur thought he could remake Steren as an Ash Vampire if need be, before forcing Nerevar’s soul to be his.” She still met Voryn’s angry gaze without flinching. “And if he had not defeated you, his world would have been doomed.”

Voryn punched the wall of the temple with a supernatural strength, leaving cracks in his wake.

“Voryn,” Nerevar went to calm him.

“No!” Voryn snapped at him. “She sent my son to kill me or die trying! She—“

“She did what she had to because I refused.” Nerevar held Voryn’s arms tightly. “Don’t blame her but blame me.”

“You wanted to be with our son, how could I possibly blame you?”

“Because that selfishness doomed him to having to correct my mistakes—our mistakes.” Nerevar’s face was firm but level. “And… He’s alright now. He succeeded.”

“Indeed.” Azura spoke up again. “But in the end, the grief of your beloved’s death was enough to nearly shatter your already fragile soul. You had to return to moonshadow, or perish in a way not even I could save you.” Nerevar hated that. He knew she was right; Voryn’s death had nearly broken him this lifetime. If his soul had been active for thousands of years without rest, it was a miracle he didn’t cease existing in that world. “You had guided him since he got the ring, allowing him to communicate with your soul. I let you two give your goodbyes, and he ushered you to Moonshadow and safety.”

So Steren was left alone again. Having to say goodbye to both of his fathers in such a short time.

“Why is he here then?” Nerevar asked, once again taking Voryn’s hand.

“… As a reward for fulfilling the prophecy when you could not, I offered him anything.” Azura looked sad once more in a way that Nerevar did not like. “He asked me to let him be with his parents again.”

Another chill ran up Nerevar’s spine.

He didn’t fully know Steren, but he knew Steren was his son.

His son, after a long and arduous journey, had asked the Lady of Twilight to kill him. To end his life so he could roam Moonshadow looking for Nerevar and Voryn.

Nerevar knew that feeling well; he too wanted to end it all after he was done. But he moved forward as he knew that’s what Voryn would have wanted, and what his people needed. But it was something else entirely to hear his own child had been through the same grief and loneliness.

“I didn’t have it in me to end his life.” Azura admitted. “He is young, and it is not in his fate to die young again.” Nerevar was at least thankful she didn’t just go along with such a request; he would have been furious enough to try and rip her to pieces himself, dead or not. “But I didn’t want to delay it either. If I refused, he might take matters into his own hands,” That was also a possibility, “So I used my magic to keep him from death for a few hours, and made the hasty decision to send him here to meet you.”

She was still upholding her end of the bargain in a way. He did get to be with Nerevar and Voryn, just in a different world.

“Your spirits from that world also wish to join you.” Nerevar raised a brow. Two of him and Voryn? If they could just join the living, wouldn’t she just bring them back in his world? “If they are residing inside your souls, as fragile as they are, they can rest without vanishing and give you their memories so you may know Steren as they do.”

“… So that was that feeling.” Voryn muttered.

“You knew?” Nerevar asked?

“Only faintly.” Voryn sighed. “The souls felt like you and I only… Fainter. And it seemed impossible there were two of us so I thought it must have been my imagination.”

“Would you welcome them?” Azura asked. “The memories may be slow to come, especially for Nerevar given he had so many,” Azura looked like she was almost pleading with them, though as proud and vain as she was she would never admit it. 

“Yes.” Voryn answered without a second thought. Nerevar was surprised even by how quick he answered, before sighing himself.

“Sure,” Nerevar huffed, but he couldn’t help the soft smile on his lips. “I’d hate for him to be alone again.”

A warmth then bubbled up inside him, almost like a warm ember was glowing. It felt ticklish almost in his chest; a weight there that wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. 

And then the two were standing in an empty temple, holding hands. Azura was gone, but there was the knowledge the two were different. Time could only tell the changes that might happen, or how long it would take for the memories of their other selves to surface, but…

Now Steren wasn’t alone. That much brought a feeling of comfort to the pair.

“… Let’s get back to the manor,” Nerevar tightened his grip on Voryn’s hand, “The healers should have brought him over there.”

“Yes,” Voryn leaned down to give a soft kiss to Nerevar’s forehead. “I should also hurry to tell my assassins to watch over him as closely as they do our poet.” Nerevar smiled in turn, a sort of loving, mirthful smile he sometimes rarely got to make in his stress of being king and the mess they were dealing with now.

“Right,” Nerevar leaned up to kiss his husband softly on the lips. “We have a son now, after all. They need to watch over him just as carefully as they do Vivienne.”

—

It was days later Steren awoke, groggy, in pain, and miserable.

“… Dad…?” He asked, groggily. He knew he’d seen Nerevar again; he’d gotten to hug Nerevar properly. He remembered the warmth; the solid feeling of his father in his arms. “Ata…?” He’d also seen Voryn there with him. Had they brought him to a place to rest? And why did his body hurt so much when he was already dead? 

He tried to climb out of bed, but his legs were too unsteady. They buckled under him, sending him crashing to the floor, almost causing him to hit his head on the nightstand. “Fuck—“ Steren swore under his breath. Gods it was cold out of the blankets too—why was Moonshadow so damn cold?! From how Azura is always dressed you’d imagine her realm would be warm, not freezing. Not helping was the fact he was in loose pants, bandages on his chest, and a thin robe overtop that was left untied. He was shivering already as he tried to steady himself, but luckily he wasn’t left struggling for long as quickly the door opened, someone rushing to his side.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Nerevar was there, gingerly helping him up. He was completely solid too, not simply a golden spirit you could faintly make out the features of. He was in all his chimer glory, white hair and blue eyes as he scooped up Steren and placed him back in bed. “You’re still injured so you should rest—“

Nerevar didn’t have time to finish tucking him in, as Steren began clinging to him and openly sobbing into his shoulder.

“Dad—!” Steren was holding him light a frightened child, nails digging in through Nerevar’s robes until they nearly hurt, as though he feared the moment he let go Nerevar would slip away from him again. “I-I’m so sorry��I’m sorry, I just—” 

Steren was then sobbing and babbling incoherently, refusing to let go. A bit awkwardly, Nerevar patted his head and rubbed his back, letting him cry it all out. He didn’t dislike Steren at all; Steren was his child as Azura told him, but he was still a bit unsure at the best way to comfort him, especially when he was this upset.

But eventually the tears began dying down as Steren hiccuped, before he began wiping his own tears.

“Normally you’d already be—be lecturing me about how stupid I was to do something like this,” Steren tried to smile through the tears. “I know you’re furious with me but I just—just needed to see you and Ata again…” 

“Shhh,” Nerevar hushed him again, cautiously wiping his tears away, “You did the best you could… More than what you should have.” Nerevar tried to smile back. “I’m just glad you’re safe now.”

“Well I know I am now,” Steren was still smiling so happily. “Now we can be safe and happy together in Moonshadow.” There was no threat of dying anymore, after all. No one who could rip apart his family. They could catch up on everything—Voryn could tell him about his early childhood, Nerevar could explain how he grew up, and they could make new and happy memories together.

“… Steren,” Nerevar sighed; he didn’t want to drop this on him so early, but it felt unfair to lie to him as well. It would only upset him in the long run. “We’re not in Moonshadow.”

“The land of our ancestors then?” Steren asked. He honestly didn’t care where they were, so long as they were together. But still, Nerevar shook his head.

“We’re in Solstheim.” Nerevar explained. “Azura brought you here.”

“S…” Steren began, his mouth fumbling. “Solstheim…?” That frozen island of Skyrim? Why would she take him there? Actually, more importantly, why were his parents here?!

“… She brought you across time and worlds into ours after you defeated Dagoth Ur.” Nerevar explained, his eyes cautiously watching Steren’s expression. “She said you wished to be with your parents and that you are mine and Voryn’s son, and in your world you fulfilled the prophecy when I couldn’t.”

It was hard to explain the emotions Steren was going through hearing that, taking in the look on Nerevar’s face as well as his behavior. Nerevar was looking at him like he was a… Stranger. Someone unceremoniously dropped into his lap. There was no tender affection in his eyes, nor anger at Steren wanting to die and join him. He wasn’t hostile at all, just reserved. Cautious. Unsure.

Then there was anger. He had asked Azura to be with his parents. His. Not some other version of Nerevar and Voryn who didn’t know him. We’re his parents even together in this world? Possibly not, but certainly Steren hadn’t been born from how clumsily Nerevar spoke, as though in disbelief over the fact he and Voryn had a child. 

Pure rage coursed through him, before he quickly directed it from Azura towards himself; of course, what else did he expect?! A daedra wouldn’t uphold their end of the bargain that easily. Even if Azura was one of the few daedra you could worship semi-openly as she wasn’t regarded as evil or openly cruel, that didn’t change the fact she was a daedric prince. And Clavicus Vile didn't have a monopoly on twisting someone’s words, so it was no surprise Azura would instead dump him somewhere else to be of use to him.

He should have just asked for some gold and then killed himself properly. Then there would at least be the guarantee he'd see his fathers again. Now if he died there was no promise of even that. If he was in another world like Nerevar said, he was far beyond his afterlife and Moonshadow, and he didn’t trust Azura to return him to his parents in that world anymore.

But there would be time to weep over that later. He could find someplace private to cry himself to sleep, like he'd done so many times before. At least this time he knew the ghost of his father wasn't watching, helpless to comfort him like Nerevar desperately wanted to. Instead, he relaxed his clenched fists, trying to make his defeated sigh as quiet as possible, and moved his legs so he could partially kneel on the bed, putting his hands in front of him, and bowing low.

"I'm sorry for imposing on you. My deepest apologies." He'd normally never talk so formally to Nerevar, but this was not the Nerevar whom he affectionately called dad and who guided him around Vvardenfell. This was Nerevar reborn, king of Morrowind. And Steren had learned plenty what happened when you disrespected those of a higher station. It was better to kneel and apologize, licking boots before scurrying off like a coward, at least whenever you could.

“H-hey,“ Nerevar tried to usher him up, “There’s no need to bow like that—“

“I’ve shown you great disrespect. Please allow me to apologize for that.” He could at least thank House Hlaalu for his better speaking abilities. “I had no idea I would be brought here and I know I must have put you into a difficult situation caring for me.” At least the fact he was alive still explained the pain and cold. Azura dropped him into the fucking ocean just to spite him and had him wandering around near death as punishment no doubt instead of trying to be useful for her. It’s no wonder he still had all his fingers. 

“Please lay down properly.” Nerevar ushered him back to the bed, “You’re still injured,” His hand was firm on Steren’s chest, not painful but warning him to stay there. “Rest up for now and we can talk about this later, alright?” 

Steren didn’t really want to talk about it further, if he was honest. What point was there playing pretend? Acting like he had a place here? This wasn’t his world, and this wasn’t his father. They were strangers, Nerevar just being told he had an obligation to look after Steren from Azura. 

But he could sort it out later. When his injuries from his fight with Dagoth Ur healed and his head cleared from hypothermia and exhaustion, he could figure something out. He’d thank the hortator for his hospitality, pass on the ring and sword that in truth belonged to him, and leave… Somewhere else. Somewhere warmer, at least. Maybe he’d go west to the deserts of Elsweyr or the Illiac Bay—well, maybe not the bay. His birth mother in this life was on the run there. The warm sands of the desert would be a safer bet, or even just Cyrodiil again where he could find a job like unloading cargo again or work under a merchant. It’s not like he wanted power and fame after all; he’d swear to Lady Azura he didn’t covet Nerevar’s throne, do whatever quest she sent him here to do, and be on his way. It could be a weird little anecdote for Nerevar and Voryn in this world; something funny to joke about years later while they wondered where he ended up wandering off to. 

But for now he’d rest. Steren closed his eyes, refusing to let anymore tears fall; he’d cry for his actual parents, but not in front of some stranger. He refused.

Nerevar waited at the door, unsure, watching him lay there and breathe with anxiety bubbling in his chest, before he sighed and closed the door. 

They’d explain it all when Steren recovered. Right now he didn’t look mentally ready to understand anything they said, and Nerevar was afraid of making the situation worse. He’d keep a close eye on him and wait it out for now, earning his trust if he had to. But they’d make it through it. Nerevar would be sure of it.

[rolloollor]

Can you tell us something more of what happened to them at the end of Sacerdos et Draco

I hadn't really decided on anything solid before this, but I'll try!

I see the Malleus in Sacerdos et Draco as slightly more mature from the outset. As in, not quite as panicked about loss. That helps the Sacerdos ending not just end up as Malleus repeating his does-something-shockingly-terrible schtick.

Basically, Malleus brings Rollo home. This would be prior to much interaction between fae and humans within the borders of the Kingdom of Briar, so Rollo would be an oddity rather than a representative of the species that had nearly destroyed the kingdom. I imagine other fae would not understand why Malleus would want to marry this short-lived creature, but they'd go along with it.

Malleus is crowned king shortly after their arrival. Even with all that's on his plate, he spends a good amount of time teaching Rollo magic. His ability is far less than a good fae's would be, but he's decent for a human and him mastering more difficult spells is more rewarding for Malleus because of it.

The culture would be difficult for Rollo to adjust to, but I think he'd be more open to it. He has less reason to keep his guard up and he doesn't hate magic on principle. No matter how long he lived there, he would always be the foreigner, but the Kingdom of Briar would be more accepting of some of the fundamental building blocks of who he is (his sexuality, his magical ability, etc) than the church.

In Sacerdos, Jehan's death is at least partially a religious issue. "Jehan used witchcraft, so God killed him." By losing his faith, Rollo might not shed all of his guilt, but I think a decent chunk would evaporate. Also, Malleus gave him an explanation that seemed logical to Rollo and told him there was nothing he could have done. I have no doubt that Rollo would always carry a bit of guilt over Jehan, but in this AU, a lot of it became irrelevant or was soothed. Rollo would have an easier time just living. He can love Malleus out in the open because fae aren't so picky about who can kiss who, he has some purpose in mastering magic in Jehan's stead, etc. Overall, I see him as just... happier. He doesn't have to devote himself to avenging his brother--he can simply be himself.

Though he'd probably take a while to warm up to people, regardless. He would shadow Malleus until he became comfortable in the castle without him. And he turns out to be politically adept, so he helps Malleus quite a bit.

There's no Sebek or Silver in this AU, so I guess Rollo would end up talking to Lilia a lot more than he normally would. Oh, maybe he can chat with Baul...

Would they have children? They don't even know if it's possible, but they might try, again with Malleus carrying the child. Thanks to magic, the fae's infant mortality rate must be way lower than the human one.

No ending between them can be a true happily ever after because of their lifespan difference. But this one is as close as they can get. Rollo lives a full life with his dragon. A part of him can't quite shake those Catholic teachings, so he tells Malleus that he'll wait for him in the afterlife (whether that be hell, heaven, or purgatory). But do fae believe in such a thing? What if the human afterlife and the fae afterlife are different? Would the gods make an exception and allow one to go to the other? I'm not religious, but I am a sap, and I love the idea of Malleus meeting Rollo in the great beyond...

Rollo's death leaves Malleus distraught and he's in full mourning for probably a century. He had portraits and maybe a statue commissioned. Rollo also kept a journal, because he's Rollo, and Malleus would have hidden all of them away so he could read them when he grew lonely. Eventually, like after his death, someone would find them and hand them off to historians, giving them a unique insight to the lone human who lived in the Kingom of Briar. If they had children, then every fae with human genes in the Kingdom until a certain point could trace their lineage to Rollo.

All in all, it's a happier ending than they usually get.

[liminsendhelp]

Devil×Devil or...

how good it is to be unperturbed

The thick volume of the 1820 list of magical creatures lay pleasantly in her hands. It wasn't too warm, but she liked the coolness, enjoying the slight breeze and the life-filled silence around her.

Someone else's warmth, the slight sound of someone else's breath, the crunch of leaves.

She tensed before she even realized it. A practiced reflex almost made her jerk toward her wand before she heard his voice.

"Do you want a baby?"

That question made her choke up. In the shade under the spreading crown of an old tree, where the cold spring sun barely warmed the April grass, she settled down. Normally Tom didn't come this early because of a schedule difference, but today Dumbledore's class had been canceled because of someone's prank. Everything in the transfiguration classroom, from the walls to the writing utensils was covered in bright pink glitter.

"I beg your pardon?" She squeezed out recovering from his sudden appearance and equally sudden attack.

Tom sighed, leaning against the fallen tree trunk she was sitting on.

"You're smart," her eyebrows crept upward, "You're a woman," he said as if he were listing points of argument rather than obvious facts.

"A little more and I'll decide you're offering me something," you said dryly, setting the book aside.

His face took on a slightly pinkish hue and she smirked quietly with the corner of her lips at his embarrassment.

"No," he nodded his head, "it's just that you're forward-thinking enough to want to leave a descendant. To mold something out of nothing."

"Pass on a part of myself, yes, I've thought of that. But no, no kids, not for the next twenty years for sure. And not in my womb."

He directed a studying gaze straight into her eyes.

"I didn't think you'd be willing to hand over responsibility for your-"

"And not in someone else's. I think it's quite possible to create something magically-supported by both partners. Or one person. Perhaps my child will be derived from just me and some essence from a drop of blood and magic of another kind. I don't know. The options are many."

Tom nodded understandingly, seeming to accept the idea as difficult but doable.

"You don't want to be vulnerable?"

"In a way. Growing something in yourself and not being able to precisely control the consequences... Not my thing. Besides..."

She grinned again, knowing he'd probably blush again.

"Have you ever imagined someone cumming inside you?"

His red cheeks and ears, as if scalded by boiling water, were worth the vulgarity of the utterance.

She giggled quietly at his face for another long moment. So dangerous, yet so easily embarrassed.

[luxdea]

(  𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡ | @corferox​​ )

“If you go, I go too.”

     SHE’D PRACTICED HER speech for days. with the way she spent time writing & revising, one would have thought that she was working on an official royal proclamation. her first draft had come out nearly as stern & commanding & it was swiftly vetoed in favor of a version with more emotion–––– which was replaced with a version with a bit less emotion, as she didn’t want link feeling swayed by something so troublesome as her feelings. 

     IN THE END, the moment was nearly as grand as she had imagined as she wrote. instead of early in the morning, it happened during one of his evening visits. though she had imagined something of a prim & proper audience, the truth had her sitting sat in bed after another day of recovery with her hair slightly still disheveled from sleep as he stood at the foot of the bed, clearly having just returned from a day among the village & it’s people. &, though she was grateful she’d had the forethought to memorize most of her speech, she wished she’d been more oblivious–––– if only because it was more difficult to hide her own thoughts on the subject while looking him in the eye.

     ❝ ––––your presence is always welcome.  ❞

      & IT WAS most certainly wanted.

     ❝ but you have done more than enough in your service to hyrule & –––– & to me. ❞

     THE VERY LAST thing she wanted was for link to leave, but to request that he remain with her after all he had already done for the kingdom–––– for her–––– was selfish. if he wanted to forget his duty to hyrule, vanish into obscurity & live a life he never would have had the chance to a century ago, he would absolutely deserve to. if it was what he wished for, then he could go with her blessing. 

     ❝ should you wish it, you may leave my service & your knighthood & live a life free of the duties that were assigned to you by the crown. ❞

     IT FELT ODD to say. with the king gone for a century & herself hardly still a princess, it was very possible he already felt free. but, she still wanted him to know that would support such a decision. that, if he was worried about her reaction, he needn’t be. silence settled over them like a heavy blanket, & it took all zelda’s strength not to wring the blanket in her hands.

     ❝ okay. ❞

     HIS ANSWER GAVE her nothing of substance. okay he would be leaving? okay he understood? okay he would be thinking about it? zelda found herself leaning forward, struggling to gather her thoughts. when she was finally able to speak, all she could do was repeat his single word answer.

     ❝ okay? ❞

     EVEN WITH THE confusion in her voice, all he did was nod & repeat himself.

     ❝ okay. ❞

     DESPITE THE FACT that she was still puzzled, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful. he still stood before her, relaxed & steady, as if nothing she said had changed anything in his mind despite the fact it felt as though her world had just shifted. after another moment, she cleared her throat, intent on searching for her answer in another way.

     ❝ i’ve been thinking...i’ve regained most of my strength, & i’ve been beginning to feel a bit restless. kakariko & impa’s home are lovely, but i would like to see...more. ❞

     ZELDA FELT A bit like she was asking some kind of permission. but, in truth, it was a sort of an invitation. should he decline, she knew it was time for them to go their separate ways &, though they would always be bound by more than just duty, she would accept whatever path he wished to take. she was prepared for that decision. she knew he deserved to make it.

     ❝ if you go, i do too. ❞

      & YET, IT was not what he chose. she hoped that the room was dark enough that he couldn’t see the flush on her face. she could feel the sudden warmth spreading across her cheeks, & she fought to keep her smile modest, though she wanted nothing more but to beam.

     ❝ well, i suppose we should begin to make arrangements four our departure tomorrow. ❞

     IT WAS FAR too late for them to make any preparations–––– especially knowing they would have to discuss it all with impa, who had already retired to bed. but, there was one thing that they could decide.

     ❝ now then, ❞

     HER GRIN COULD no longer be hidden. her smile grew, & she found herself leaning even further towards link. her excitement was palpable. life after the calamity–––– a real life, more than just recovery–––– was something she had only dreamed of until now.

     ❝ where should we go? ❞

[adrisventari]

day three!!

recently I went on vacation, and ended up doing a lot of reading and writing. today, I offer you a scene of young Ariaami and Trahearne. it is entitled, "Trahearne And Ariaami Are Friends". please enjoy below the cut.

Trahearne And Ariaami Are Friends

“You're serious.”

“Destiny's Edge was a meeting of the races, from all walks of life. It served them well, despite their great loss. It will serve you well too, I imagine.”

“They've been at each other's throats since that loss, not a great poster child.” Ariaami idly spun a staff in elaborate circles, the muscle memory of a training drill.

“Loss shapes us greatly, they lost mentors as well.” Trahearne looked pointedly at the charr woman, eyes wandering away from the Orrian tome in his hands.

“You want us to bond.”

“I'd hope so.”

“I don't bond very well.”

“Well it certainly wouldn't be instantaneous.”

“It doesn't end well when I make acquaintances.” She threw the staff, it whirled a few feet above her, before she caught it again and spun it over her shoulders, muscle guiding it back into her waiting paw.

“If we're going to do this, we need everyone who is willing.” He turned back to his tome, rippling frustration. The ancient text didn't frustrate him any less, but he understood the ways of Orrian writing better than he understood himself most days.

“I know.” Ariaami planted the staff in the soft ground, a scrap of fabric tied around its end blew gently in the breeze. “Who are they?”

At the question, the man perked up slightly.

“From your order, the asura Gehix.”

“The retired medic?”

“No longer retired. After he heard about Tybalt, he came directly to me demanding to be involved. Dorian speaks highly of him, and medics are a good thing.”

“I'm not an idiot Trahearne, I know medics are a good thing.” She drew a polished sword, and began stalking around the staff as if it were an enemy. “Why not me?”

“Because you're newer and younger.” He deliberately did not mention anything about her experience, she may be young, but she had seen and suffered much in such a short life. “He shares your rank, but has a decade of service on you.”

Ariaami made a deliberate thrust toward the pole, a parley for her imaginary battle. Over her shoulder, she turned cold lavender eyes to the sylvari.

“And?” There was a malice there, the raging anger of the youth of the age, of someone who had already aged beyond her years. Trahearne would be lying if he didn't know the gaze, he'd seen it in his siblings. In the years since it had faded for some of them, he'd never come to possess it, more scholar that warrior at heart.

“And you're my ally in this, I need you to stand with me, not the order.” Ariaami was difficult to talk to sometimes, he'd know the charr were quick to anger, brash, proud, stubborn. But she seemed more so than all the others, besides Tribune Brimstone that is.

The anger still colored her gaze, but she turned a slick head, and returned to her exercise.

“Go on.”

“From the Vigil, a pair. Warmasters Lady Adalasa Elise Merrin, and Jodnil Stormbringer. Human and norn, respectively.”

“Two?”

“They refused individually according to Efut, but were willing to come as a team. They're both tacticians from other organizations. Adalasa served the crown in Kryta, Jodnil served in the Lionguard. They were Forgal’s last mentees.”

The charr lunged at the staff, striking it with a loud crack of her blade. She drew back, noting the gouge in the wood, and said nothing further. Trahearne let the silence sit for a moment, then continued.

“Finally, from the Priory is Validine. Sylvari, newly awakened.”

“How new?”

“Not yet a year. But bright, fast, they're compelled to the dragons by their Wyld Hunt.”

Validine was a wild card. By far the youngest, the least experienced. They had found their way to the Priory outrunning Caithe, of all things. If nothing else, Trahearne respected their tenacity. Caithe ran swiftest of all the Firstborn, and protected Validine most fiercely. They'd grown tired of it, and using all they had been taught, slipped away and across the mainland. Gixx had been last to give his answer on whom else he was sending with their delegation, and Trahearne was surprised with his choice.

“Really?”

“Yes. Logically it presents a weak argument, but emotionally a strong one. They were Serian’s first and only student, nobody pours over their Orrian like them, except you perhaps. They have the interest to pursue more directly than others I've consulted, a fiercesome scholar of all things.” The steward had huffed with some amusement. “A good idea is not without its risks, I'll take this one. Besides, there's a great deal of value to find in the optimistic young.”

The thud of wood hitting the soft ground roused the Sylvari from memory. Ariaami had struck the staff again, this time slicing it clean in two at the notch.

“Like you're compelled to Orr.”

“Yes.”

The charr sheathed her sword, and ran a paw through her fluffy black hair.

“When do they get here?”

“Midday, tomorrow.”

The charr sat next to the man, and her pack respectively, with a sigh. She began then pulling at parts of her hair, and braiding them elaborately. Trahearne saw a streak of silver grey in one of them near her temple, a striking glow of light.

“At least I'm not the runt of the litter.” Her words were more contemplative than angry, a rare thing from Ariaami.

The strange pair settled into a strangely easy silence. The charr was focused on braiding her dense head of hair, the sylvari engrossed in a ink spotted tome. Those who came across the pair would often remark on how much time they spent in those silences, both focused on something completely else, but there was somehow a level of deep understanding. One would look up, and end up meeting the other's eyes, in the same motion. Oddly, they were friends, the charr wouldn't say that, and the sylvari wouldn't either out of respect for the charr, but anyone with eyes would. Marshal and Commander.

After Zhaitan’s defeat, however, there was less denial about it from Ariaami. Trahearne had found an amulet resting upon his desk. It was a surprisingly delicate thing, inlaid in polished onyx was a circle with jutting silver protrusions, the ash legion crest. It made him smile, a more common sight after the cleansing of Orr, and several weeks mandated rest. He wouldn't learn until later the others had received them as well, scaled to their relative size. The little collection of strangers was becoming something, perhaps another Destiny's Edge, perhaps something else, perhaps just the Pact. Still, Trahearne beamed, because he was right, and he took great joy in being right. It was a habit carried over from years of translation failures. Together they were stronger, together they had a shot in hell of changing everything. They'd felled one dragon, and there was a lurking, morbid curiosity of what Tyria would throw to them next. Whatever it was, they would be ready.

SURPRISE ANOTHER SONG!!!!!

[sourholland]

A Royal Convienence || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part One

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

AN → I’m so excited for this, I honestly thought it’d be out a little sooner but whatever.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.8k

Word of the royal engagement had spread quickly, not only by mouth, but through the newspapers as well.

Prince Thomas of Wales and Princess Y/N of France would be married in the spring. Only six weeks awaiting the royal wedding where the crown prince would marry the firstborn princess of France. Rumors of His Majesty, King Dominic’s ill health thickened the air, leaving the country to wonder if the reason for the sudden alliance was perhaps in favor of the succession of the eldest prince.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed his head as you stepped from the ship onto the dock.

You lifted your gloved hand to his outstretched fingers, helping you onto the grass. The clouds hung grayly in the sky, droplets of rain threatening to spill. The man guided you to the carriage not far from where you’d disembarked. He was clearly a member of the royal guard, dressed stiffly and talking very little. You couldn’t tell if this was due to your status or the requirements he was to adhere to.

The inside of the carriage was decorated richly, plush bench seats accompanied by satin curtains of gold. You were tempted to reach over and touch them, retracting your hand when the carriage jerked and began to move through the crowded streets of London.

You were exhausted, hardly sleeping on the journey from France. You’d been unable to keep down any food, seasick and lethargic the whole way. You hadn’t been able to freshen up, assuming that your hair which had been pulled back was a mess by now. You also hadn’t been afforded the luxury of taking your ladies with you, some of which had been with you since you were a girl. This was making things like lacing your own corset considerably more difficult.

The whole way to Buckingham Palace had gone by rather fast, the scenery passing you by reduced to blurs in your memory. It was a much different atmosphere than that of France, or at least what you’d been allowed to see of it. You spent most of your early life being taught how to rule a country, being the heir to the throne until you reached the age of fourteen. Your mother, the Queen Consort Marie, had finally produced a son, an heir, a male to take the throne once the king died.

This day, the day when your brother Prince Louis was born, had been one of the most dreadful days of your life. Everything you’d been working towards, learning about, being trained for, was stripped away from you. After that, you’d been reduced to what it seemed every woman was around you, aristocracy or not, an object of marriage.

Some years later, you would be called into the throne room and told by your father that you would be wed to the Crown Prince of England. You’d only met Prince Thomas once before, at the English Duke’s wedding when you were only twelve years old. He had been only fourteen, unbothered and unfazed by your presence. From what you recalled, your encounter with him had been less than pleasant.

You’d made several attempts to speak with the Prince throughout the night, taking your mother’s words of encouragement. He brushed you off every time, once telling you that he did not care for the French, nor your way of approaching the ‘next King of England.’

“Ma’am.”

You were brought away from your thoughts at the man’s words, your head rising from its place at the wall of the carriage. You glanced out the window, the large palace greeting you. You remembered nothing of coming through the gates, or even seeing the Buckingham Palace for the first time.

You stepped out, flattening your skirts with your palms and doing the best with your hair. You couldn’t imagine how improper you’d probably looked, your stomach churning at the thought of walking through the doors of the palace.

The walk from the carriage to the set of doors that led you into the large entryway was short. The walls were covered in rich fabrics, candles lighting each walkway. The guards accompanying you remained silent, the sound of your shoes against the fine carpet in your ears. You remembered your governess, the way she’d always remind you that a princess never slouched. The straightening of your back and extra spry in your step helped you to gain back a bit of confidence.

Through what felt like dozens of twists and turns, the tallest guard was pushing open two large doors. You stepped in wearily, recognizing it as the throne room. You suddenly became very aware of your appearance, the way you must be an absolute mess.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of France,” he announced to the room.

You walked before the throne and gave a deep curtsy to both King Dominic and Queen Nicola. You met each of their eyes nervously, you knew it was wrong to look for any bit of illness in the king, unable to help yourself from noticing his paleness and sunken in eyes.

“Your Majesties,” you addressed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a girl,” she remarked. “Of course, then you were to be the Queen of France. And now—well, there’s Prince Louis, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you answered with a twinge of bitterness. “My brother should take the throne some day.”

King Dominic’s eyes scanned over you promptly, looking for any imperfection, any flaw to point out. This wasn’t odd behavior of a king, yet it still seemed to make you stammer over your words.

“You’ve grown very beautifully, I’m glad of this,” she added. “We’ve had portraits sent over, however, I will say that you are a fine-looking girl.”

There was no sign of the Prince, nor his younger brothers. It was only the king and the queen that occupied the throne room. You felt almost relieved of this, not wishing to see any more people in your current state. You also dreaded your imminent fate, a vow of marriage to a man you hardly knew, let alone could stand.

The large doors opened once more, revealing the eldest Prince, behind him were the twins, and next was the youngest. Prince Thomas held a blank expression, his eyes not yet meeting your own as he walked with his brothers to bow at his parents feet.

“Thomas, I’m sure you remember Y/N,” his mother said, motioning towards you.

His gaze fell on you, his eyes dipping from the cream colored skirts that swayed at your feet, to the mess of hair falling into your face slightly. His hair was slicked back and styled, the embroidery on his tunic rich and in season. His eyes darkened, a look of disdain flashing for a moment.

“I do, mum, I quite clearly recall us being introduced at cousin George’s wedding a few years back,” he answered.

He forced a grin, looking to his mother for approval. She went on about wedding preparations, dining plans, and which wing of the castle your chamber would be. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much of a rambler Queen Nicola truly was. You could only blame it on her longing for a daughter, and the fact that this was the first wedding she’d be able to orchestrate for one of her sons.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet me to choose an engagement ring, then to tea where your Ladies in Waiting will be,” she spoke modestly. “It’s far too late to do anything this evening. Though, I’m sure a chaperone could be arranged if you and Tom wished to speak for a time privately.”

“That won’t be necessary, mum. It’s quite late, I’m sure the Princess would rather retire to her chamber for the night,” the Prince interrupted. Good, you thought. You had no desire to be anywhere near Thomas, not now, and definitely not for what was playing out to be the rest of your miserable life.

“Ma’am,” you started. “Do excuse me if I’m incorrect, however, I thought Prince Thomas should have been the one to choose an engagement ring?” You asked, a snort came from Tom, a dismissive look from the Queen following. He grimaced as his younger brother, Prince Sam, you assumed, had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well—yes, you are correct. Traditionally, if you and Thomas had courted, and then he’d gone to your father for his blessing, he would have chosen an engagement ring once you agreed to have him. This is not a traditional engagement, though. You’ll look through some of our most precious jewels, I assure you, Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up at her words, drowning out the last of her speech and curtsying again as she and the king left the room. The three younger Princes followed suit, Tom stopped at the archway for a moment. A servant most likely waited behind those slightly ajar doors, ready to escort you to your chambers.

“Princess,” your title lingered on his lips.

“Prince Thomas, can I help you?”

“I wish you would not refer to me as Thomas, that god awful name is reserved for my mother,” he said shortly. “Tom will do fine.”

“Prince Tom, then. Is there a reason you’ve stayed back? We shouldn’t be alone in here,” you had only been in the palace a short time and the last thing you wanted was a scandal.

His expression was not endearing in the least, he looked burdened by you. His jaw was set, his eyes malice, the curl of his lip in disgust. You took in a breath, mimicking his body language and going to pass him out into the hall. You were caught off guard by the jerking of your forearm, his hand grasping at it harshly and pulling you much closer to his face than you had been before.

“If this is what I must do for my country then so be it, however, do not think for a second that I would ever willingly marry someone like you,” he cursed, leaning in so close that you could feel his cool breath on your skin.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you said, looking him dead in the eyes. The weight of his words stung like a blade, his expression like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Well then, something we can agree on.”

You yanked away from him, brushing off his grasp and looking up at him with narrowed-eyes. He gritted his teeth as you flattened the fabric of your skirts once more before you left the large room in a fleeting motion.

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r

[mazuwii]

Zeke SFW Alphabet

Flying monke

Hey bestie, I see you like Mr Monke😏

No shame! No shame!😤 I am writing the chapters everyone has requested but I got asked to do a Zeke alphabet first so here it is

—A (Affection. How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

•Not very physically affectionate in public, he tends to give you stares that gives you the same warm feeling you get from being hugged tightly.

•When you crash into him for a hug, he's so shocked and confused, his heart is dancing at the feeling of your warm little body right against his, affectionately rubbing his back. Before he knows it, he's silently crying, holding your face to his chest so that you don't see.

•Zeke never knew hugs felt so nice and now whenever he's feeling down or whenever you both have nothing to do, he randomly opens his arms up and waits for you to run into them. If you take too long all he does is twitch his hands slightly, which is funny and cute.

•I can see him being way more affectionate in the nighttime, where you're sleeping on him and you mumble under your breath, he kisses your head and strokes your cheek, lovingly gazing at you.

—B (Bestfriend, how would he be like as a best friend, how would the friendship start?)

•Zeke would be the bestest friend ever, sure he isn't the most affectionate or upfront friend but he is incredibly reliable!

•Always defending you behind your back. He insults you but then compliments and uplifts you behind your back to other people. Basically your lawyer.

•I will never stop saying this, Zeke Jaegar is intelligent as fuck and hates small talk so his conversations are so delicious, so full of flavour. His intelligence turns you on so hard, he is so fun to talk to because A, he makes fair points and teaches you things, B, he has a good sense of humour, C, he genuinely listens. He wants your opinion and understands your point of view on the subject.

—C (Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

•Before getting into a relationship, he always thought hugs would be stiff and horrible, especially in bed but he discovered that he was wrong.

•When you were spooning him, he couldn't nearly think straight from the appreciation he felt. Your arm was so secure around his waist and your body was warm against him, it was a feeling that made him wish he was immortal and experience this FOREVER!

•He likes it when you bring yourself to him, automatically. He finds it cute and always compliments you when you do. It isn't a full-of-shit-flattery compliment, he means it.

•"Why- on this gruesome green earth, are you so cute?" He kisses your head as you nestle yourself on his chest. "Mind telling me? Hm?" He pecks your head again and tightens his arm around you.

•One thing he will die to protect is you, he wants to hide you away from all the horrors of the world and treasures you so much and one way to do it is to tightly hold you right against him, melting at the sound of your giggle.

—D (Domestic. Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

•Zeke wants to live in a cottage with you, secluded from other humans. All the serenity of it relaxes him, it's one thing he'd never stop thinking about.

•Sure he wants to settle down but he'd never want to have kids. He sees himself as a failure to all and can see his little ones hating his guts, having to hear them exclaim how much they hate their papa (even if it's just his imagination) terrifies him.

•He felt like everyone hated him, but you and his grandparents and Mr Ksaver. Children would be too much stress

•As for cooking and cleaning, I don't think he's good with cooking or cleaning. He doesn't really make a mess so it's okay that he isn't good at cleaning

•However he isn't bothered with cooking actual food, he'd always just have fruit or instant noodles when he's hungry. So you'd have to be a good cook because my mans has no motivation for that stuff

—F (Fiance(e) How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

•Like I said before, Zeke isn't good on relationships so if you both last more than a year and he realises you've helped him as a person and he has helped you, he secures it.

•But proposing would be difficult, he's shy, scared, worried you may laugh and blow him off.

•Eventually he gives in and asks, a heavyweight washing off his shoulders when you said yes, even getting butterflies when he realised you were crying.

—G (Gentle. How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

•His inner child is bruised, you can see a little boy in him anytime he smiles properly, it makes your heart shatter to know that he never experienced his childhood properly and is currently a little boy in an old man's body

•He is gentle, he tries so hard to be soft with you and touches you like you're made of glass. H o w e v e r, my man does not hold back when it comes to baseball.

•Zeke is so happy when he's playing baseball with you that he doesn't realise he may have thrown too hard and only realises it when you grunt at the impact it made with your collarbone, dropping everything and running to check on you.

—H (Hugs. Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

•He hesitates at first when your smaller body collides with his, he had let out a small yelp but couldn't help smiling when your arms get tighter in desperation.

•Slowly and gently, he'd embrace you back and smell your hair.

•Zeke's hugs are warm, secure and surprisingly cuddly. He's too shy to hug you first, you'd have to hug him first and he'd not hesitate anymore. Sometimes, when he's missed you so much, he'd hug so tight that your legs float off the floor, completely powerless in his embrace.

—I (I love you. How fast do they say the L-word)

•Zeke thinks a lot so admitting that he loves you would be an epiphany, even years into the relationship. He genuinely can't believe someone loves him and stayed with him.

•He'd say it with a kiss to your forehead, small freckles of tears glistening in his eyes when he stares longingly at you.

—J (Jealousy. How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

•Very jealous but he keeps it to himself. Especially when it comes to the opposite sex. He realises anytime a man talks to you and you smile around them, he can feel himself shrink. He's all dramatic in his head, wondering if he'd ever been enough for you or if you finally realised you deserved a better guy than him.

•All of those thoughts would disappear when you take his hand or talk to him with the tone you always use with him, a cheerful and appreciative one.

—K (What are his kisses like? Where does he like to kiss you? Where does he like to be kissed?)

•Zeke's kisses are hesitant and full of pauses. Sometimes you do most of the work, bringing him closer and all that while he's questioning if he deserves you.

•When Zeke tries to be affectionate, he likes to kiss your forehead, crown of your head, cheek, lips in private. It's reassuring and he loves his little lady more than anything. This small kiss passes on so much serotonin through your skull.

•Zeke doesn't have a specific preference but when you pepper his face with kisses it makes him so happy and fireworks go off in his tummy. With your hands gently cupping his face and your lips pressing every area on his face he softly holds onto you with a flustered smile.

—L (Little ones. How are they around children)

•Lol, he's like their older bro but a lil more distant

Let's move on...

—M (Morning. How are mornings spent with them?)

•Zeke's life is full of duties and priorities but he wishes with his full heart that he could spend the rest of his life lazily holding you with you peacefully laying by his side

•To his dismay, he must leave you to sleep. He has to get up earlier and doesn't bother waking up his sleeping angel, getting ready for work and leaving- not without kissing your cheek. Even if you're fast asleep, Zeke tucks you in and pecks your cheek, admiring you for a few seconds before heading on with his day.

•I'd say on good days, you make an effort to wake up with him and make breakfast so that he doesn't go to work and smoke ciggerates on an empty stomach. Fucking idiot, sorry but don't do that 🙄 even to my readers, don't smoke bestie💜

—N (Night. How are nights spent with them?)

•He does sleep at a reasonable time, sometimes at ten PM, sometimes at eight PM..

•Before bed he'd watch a documentary with you while having dinner and probably tire himself out by sucking in all that knowledge (the TV voice makes him sleepy, so you can see his eyelids drooping when he lies about how he isn't tired... it's cute)

•When it's time for bed he does the usual routine and gets into bed after smoking... which is pretty painful for you to watch but you won't scold him, you'll bring him closer to you and kiss his nose, massaging his scalp and becoming limp when his hand is soft at your waist, caressing patterns with his slender fingers until you fall asleep.

—O (Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

•Zeke thinks he is the scum of the Earth and wouldn't be surprised if you thought so too. It'd be difficult for him to mention any of his trauma so it all comes out through his humour.

•Daddy issues jokes, mommy issues jokes, self-deprecating jokes and you go through so many until you realise the man is traumatised. I can say with full confidence that he once tried making a joke for the millionth time and ended up crying instead of laughing. Of course, you were reassuring and comforted him in every way he needed.

—P (Patience. How easily angered are they?)

•Very patient when it comes to his S/O, he doesn't force anything out of you and slowly, gently speaks.

•Zeke doesn't become angry easily, honestly, he's so smart and open-minded that it becomes a problem because he understands so many things, unable to use his emotions to his advantage.

•Again, emotions pass and are useless to him, they just come and go so he doesn't like feeling too vividly. Especially anger, he thinks there's no use in it.

—Q (Quizzes. How much would they remember about you?  Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

•Like I keep saying, Zeke is a smart, attentive person even when he doesn't mean to be. He pays attention to small details by accident and remembers subconsciously. He memorises a lot of your habits, bad and good and makes notes of when and where they mostly happen, adapting to your lifestyle without realising.

•Someone is asking what to get for your birthday and tries to get a type of chocolate flavour he remembers you despise and he gives away your full interests and a list of what you like, dumping an essay of your public info to one of your best friends and they're just like °_°...?

•It's cute, he just doesn't know his brain sucks everything about you in

—R (Remember. What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

•When you took him out to dance and the music suddenly switched from formal dancing to just 'go crazy' and he watched you GO OFF. You were shaking your hip and hopping around energetically, glaring at him for laughing his ass off over the loud music.

•You forced him to dance with you, both of you whipping your hair back and forth, your movements less stiff but nonetheless, in sync. He's never had so much fun. No one he knew was there, it was all strangers but he felt like only you and he were there, dancing freely to the music, he'd just follow your lead confidently

—S (Security. How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

•Zeke is so protective, paranoid but never expressing it, knowing he'd sound insane:

-"Angel, I have to go out with you because what'll happen if you suddenly get run over?!"

-"No you can't use the phone while it's in charge, what if it explodes in your face?!"

-"Cookie dough, don't try handstanding, you could snap your neck!"

-"No, I won't let you go up these faulty escalators, they could suddenly break open and swallow you, here let me hold your hand up the normal stairs."

-"Don't lean against the balcony, you could fall over!"

•So instead he does it sneakily. Like small solutions, in order, he'd: offering to help you shop when you go out, making you put your phone down to massage him, scaring you into stopping your handstands, holding your waist securely when you're both on the balcony.

•To feel protected, Zeke needs constant reassurance from you. Physically and emotionally. A small kiss on his cheek and a little "Don't overthink, I'm here, let it all out, I'll listen to your thoughts."

—T (Try. How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

•I think Zeke is more of a private person but his dates can be fun too. For anniversaries, you'd both have turns. For his half of the day, it would be spent playing baseball, going to the arcade, taking you out to dinner and then he'd warmly hold your hands in his, asking you what you want to do now.

•His gifts are so thoughtful but he tries to be cool when he gives it to you, lips straight and eyes avoiding you like a shy schoolboy. He can't keep his cool since you have to attack his face with kisses🙄 Jees Y/n stop it, he totally doesn't go insane when you do that to him, totally isn't in love

—U (Ugly. What are some bad habits of theirs?)

•I'd say the damn smoking. Zeke chose an unhealthy coping mechanism and needs guidance out of it, so you do just that.

•Taking his cigarettes and helping him get the nicotine out of his body through skipping rope, taking him to the sauna and even massaging his scalp when he has a headache.

•If course it'd be such a shock to him when he realises how nice he feels after his addiction is over, it's amazing what getting rid of one bad habit can do to your life.

—V (Vanity. How concerned are they with their looks?)

•Zeke trimmed his beard shorter and did his hair when he realised he had seemed to be ageing faster but... for the sake of my selfishness this is a modern au

•Surprisingly, he actually has good skin, a nice beard and a good haircut. Zeke is beautiful.

•Only once, has he ever shaved fully and my guy looked 10 years younger and was lowkey getting cocky but he rathered the beard and let it grow out... not too long though

—W (Whole. Would they feel incomplete without you?)

•Zeke is like the moon, it's a bit dark but it's still useful, however, it needs the sun to give it a boost? So what I'm trying to say is you're the sun to him, life wouldn't feel the same now that you've made your mark

—X (Xtra. A random headcanon for them.)

•I don't care what you say, he can do the entire dance for boy with luv by BTS. He doesn't know why he knows it so well, he's only seen the dance rehearsal once (yes he memorizes pretty fast)

•extra but, by the way, Monke man can figure out a Rubix cube faster than a War breaking out in AOT so... haha very fast👁👁

—Y (Yuck. What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

•He doesn't like a controlling partner, not everything has to go your way babe, life is always going to steer you in a different direction and it sometimes is in a better direction than the one you had first intended.

•So there's that

—Z (Zzz. What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

•This is funny to me for some reason? But once he lets go of your cuddle, he subconsciously sprawls his body out, and he does it for the entire night even when you're on top of him, his clothes are somehow half-off. The pillows are everywhere, the blanket is under his heavy thighs so you're freezing on him :")

[kareniliana]

Klaus: Love & Power

A//N: I’ve been gone for a LOOONG minute. But I have good news about it. 

I MADE THE DEANS LIST! 

Winter qtr of college was a little difficult but it was the best I’ve ever done in school. Such good news right!?

Anyway, this qtr I have a little stricter schedule, which means I knew specially when I can write. And I had been. 

GET READY!

& enjoy!

xx Karebear 💛🧸

Yours and Klaus’s love story seemed far fetched for most people but for those who were able to experience your connection grow into an immense amount of love for each other, would say otherwise. You became his world, alongside with Hope. In his mind, after he was able to curse Hayley and the werewolves in the bayou, he had the perfect life. His two great loves under his roof, under his sole protection. You would never agree to what Klaus has done, but nonetheless you love him. He’s the complete opposite of your previous partners in more ways than that. You understood him, through and through. You knew him like the back of your hand, you know his next move before he does. 

You were holding Hope in your arms as you walked along the bookshelf trying to get her to sleep, but all the effort was about to go to waste when Klaus comes barging in panting about to rage about gods knows what.

But before he could begin you raised a warning hand, “Don’t you dare wake her!” You whisper shouted at him. He instantly stops dead in his tracks.

Once his breathing normalizes he sits down on the couch, “The witches are siding with Marcel against me, they want my crown.”

You walked over to him, handing off his sleepy daughter to him. “You don’t need to be everyone’s king. You have all that you need with Hope and I, right?” You asked shyly.

He looks down to a sleeping Hope, then he looks back up to you before nodding his head.

“Maybe you should just give them New Orleans?”

Klaus sighed before standing up, “I should put her to bed, it’s late.” Klaus avoided your advice, walking off to Hope’s bedroom.

After a few minutes of contemplating whether you want to still be here when Klaus comes back or not. If you stay, you’ll more than likely have to sit there listening to him rant about this losing battle. If you leave, you can avoid all of that. 

With no incentive to stay, you grabbed your things and made your way out of the compound. 

As you walked down the steps you notice a disheveled Elijah. He sat on an almost broken chair, drinking liquor out of a broken bottle. The entire ground floor is basically destroyed, broken tables, chairs, artwork, glasses and everything in between. 

“Who in the Hades did you fight today?” You gasped at the sight, oddly enough no bodies were to be found. Blood could be seen splattered all around.

“Y/n, my apologies for the mess, I seem to have taken it a bit too far.” Elijah stands, setting the bottle on a table. In mere seconds the table caves in, shattering the bottle on the ground.

Elijah tried to fight the smile off his face, but it only grew twice in size.

You laugh at his reaction, soon Elijah bursts into laughter as well. As you descended down the rest of the steps, Elijah explains how some of his sires became a threat to the rest of his family.

“Therefore I sent them a message, ‘come after my family, I will come after you.’ It’s what this family does best.” Elijah explains as he begins cleaning up the broken furniture as you stood on the last step listening to him.

“Violence begets violence, this family of yours lives in a cycle of violence.” You sighed, crossing your arms across your chest. You sounded almost defeated.

“You speak like it’s your final efforts dealing with the dramatics of my family, why is that?” he asked, noticing how fed up you are.

“I love Klaus and I love Hope, but...” You shake your head, holding yourself back.

Elijah stopped cleaning, “No, no, please don’t hold yourself back now. If there is anything this family is in dire need of, it’s your brutal honesty. Please continue.”

You sighed, “It’s just... no matter how hard life gets for him, he will not give up the one thing that brings most of this unwanted violence.”

As you spoke Elijah had come to the same realization as you, his face fall into a slight frown as he listened to you.

“After all this heartbreak and sorrow brought upon your family, you’d imagine he would at least hand over some of the reigns. But no, the mighty Klaus Mikaelson has to be King of everyone.” You talked without any reservations on the topic, eventually your tone became stern and cold.

“I know my brother can be a lot, he wants the perfect life for Hope. You can't blame him for that.” Elijah speaks with some regret, they're problematic past on his mind.

“I love that man but at some point I have the face the truth, there’s nothing more that he loves than power.” You almost choked on your words, first time saying them out-loud was harder than you thought. 

Without another thought you gather your composure and hurried your way to the exit, “I should go.”

Elijah opened his mouth as he was going to say something but was speechless. There wasn’t something he could say that would fix what you were feeling. After some short time has passed Elijah had managed to get the ground floor back to its glory.

Meanwhile Klaus sat in Hope’s nursery all night, just watching her sleep. He kept thinking about what you had said; giving up New Orleans. How would he be okay with giving everything back to Marcellus? 

Klaus hadn’t realized that he had been there all night until the sun rises and began to beam into the room. Letting Hope sleep, he finally leaves her room quietly. He walked around the house in search of you but much to his surprise, you weren’t in bed or the kitchen or even the study. You never came back.

Elijah walks into the study behind Klaus, “Hope’s still sleeping?” 

“Have you seen Y/n? She never came home last night.” Klaus asked, worry evident in his voice.

“Not since last night when she left, you had a fight.” Elijah states which only angers Klaus.

“Were you eavesdropping on us last night?” He began to raise his voice, Elijah simply looked at his younger brother with a stern look.

Smirking at Klaus, “I had a conversation with Y/n on her way out, that is all.”

Klaus wanted nothing more than to chase you down and talk but Hope started crying meaning she’s awake. First Klaus tends to his daughter, contemplating on what to do with the situation at hand.

He knows you love him with everything that you are, but letting go of this city was something he didn’t think he’d every have to do again.

As soon as night falls, Freya comes to watch over Hope while Klaus goes out looking for you.

You sat in the lycée with Davina, she performed a cloaking spell on you to stay hidden for a while. She practiced different spells, continually getting up for different plants or herbs for said spells.

“I never would have thought that the city of the dead would be this... peaceful.”

“It’s a great place to help think, maybe soon you’ll start telling me why you need to hide from your own boyfriend.” Davina laughs slightly as she walks back to you with different colored potion bottles in her hands.

“Klaus needs to be King of New Orleans, I just need to finally accept that as one of his personality traits.” You sighed, setting down whatever witch instrument you had been playing with.

“A guy like Klaus means there is no changing him. Take the time that you need to sort your feelings, I’m meeting up with Josh. No one should come through here.” Davina gathered her things and walked out to go with her vampire friend.

Hours pass and soon it would be night, your thoughts ran wild. You love Klaus with every cell in your body, you could die loving him and it'd be a worth while life. So maybe him being the King of New Orleans is something to fight for. You’ve loved him when he's at his worst, so why can’t you love him when he’s fighting to stay King.

Coming to the realization that no matter where or what Klaus is doing, you’ll love him and want to be with him. Almost immediately you made your way out of the Lafayette Cemetery and straight to the Mikaelson compound.

After a few hours, Klaus lost hope in finding you before you wanted to be found. He went back to his daughter to wait for your return, running into Elijah at the enterance.

“Anything?” Klaus asked him, almost pleading with his eyes for some good news.

Elijah shook his head, “I didn’t want to mention this but, brother maybe she's not coming back.”

“Why on earth would you say such things?” Klaus asked before looking over to Elijah who wore a guilty expression. “Unless she said something?”

They slowly began to make their way inside the fortress, “Our chat last night, she mentioned that you might desire power more than you desire love.”

Klaus stopped dead in his tracks, there you were standing in front of Freya who was holding Hope.

Once you noticed the brothers enter the room you began apologizing for basically vanishing out on him. “I am so sorry, I needed time to figure out my stupid feelings.”

Klaus walked straight to you, pulling you into his embrace. Freya and Elijah looked to each other, making their way elsewhere to give you and Klaus some privacy.

When he pulled away he held your hands in his, “Your feelings are never stupid. There is nothing I love more than you and Hope. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, it was never my intention. I don’t need to be King.”

Your eyes go wide and you furrow your eyebrows, “No, no, I was wrong. I know why you have to be King. It’s okay, really. I know that everything you do is for those who you love.”

Klaus smiled down at you, “I do love you, do not forget that.”

[chaoticminhos]

maybe i do

--”even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.”

pairing: lee know x reader

genre: angst, fluff, a smut scene 

warnings: none

word count: 16.3k

a/n: arraigned marriage with minho was requested, as was breeding/pregnancy kink with him :) I didn’t make the pregnancy kink a big part bc the smut scene is small but i hope you like it anyway, anon!! I can always write a separate fic, too. there’s never too many minho fics <3

eighteen. that’s when you were expected to choose a partner. you’d just turned of age, and as an adult, you were now supposed to be getting ready to take the throne. with a partner, of course.

a very specific partner, specific to the point that all choice given to you to make you feel like you were in control meant absolutely nothing. 

you needed to find a man, first of all. a single man, one that wasn’t already set to be married. he had to have power, at least as much or more power than you had. he needed to have wealth. you needed to find yourself a handsome, wealthy prince from one of your neighboring kingdoms, and your parents had to like him. as much as your parents said you were in full control of choosing your suitor, you knew you were not the one making the calls. not a single one of them.

there was only one person who matched all of these criteria. there was only one boy you whose name would be on your list of potential suitors and your parents knew it just as well as you did.

you could try just simply not writing lee minhos name down, not selecting a husband at all, but it would be futile. eventually, if you hadn’t selected a worthy candidate to marry, one would be decided for you.

without a doubt, minho would be the one selected, whether you wrote it down or your parents signed his name for you.

you didn’t have anything against minho specifically. he was no more intolerable than any of the other royal children you’d met. if anything, he was actually easier to be around. it’s just that you were expected to be fond of him.

you were ordered by your parents to love him, and that in itself made you want to despise him.

along with your side of the selection, minho also had to choose you. if he didn’t, you would just have to wait until someone else came along. it wasn’t just you looking for a partner, he was in search as well. the difference was that he had been in search for nearly a year and he had willingly selected you.

minho wasn’t the first in line to be king of his home kingdom, his oldest brother was. he was already married and set to be crowned in the coming months. instead, if minho ever wanted to be a king, he needed to find a woman to marry who was set to become queen.

luckily for him, you were the oldest daughter in a family that had no sons.

as the eldest sibling in a family of no boys, you were in line to lead. but according to the rules, you couldn’t lead without a man to stand beside.

in all logic, minho had to choose you just as much as you needed to choose him. of course, if both of you resented each other, the wedding could be held off until you resolved the conflict. or even cancelled. you might be given a few more years of freedom before another man who fits your parents wants walks into their life or ages old enough to marry.

much to your dismay, however, minho did choose you. even before it was brought to his attention that he was your only option, that you would remain single for an unknown amount of time unless he married you, minho chose you. the second he noticed your name on the list of possible brides, which was much longer than your list of possible husbands, he had his mind set on you.

and after finding out that you had no one to choose but him, minho was sure he was going to get what he wanted.

you clenched your jaw and took your place at the table, glancing at the seat beside you that had been saved for minho.

“we want you two to get to know each other more before the wedding,” your mother said, “and he’s such a sweet boy.”

“i haven’t even chosen him as my fiancé yet, mom.”

she sent you an apologetic smile, both of you knew it didn’t matter what you chose.

you sat biting your lip and playing with the frills on your dress for quite some time before minho and his parents entered the room, escorted by four of the palace guards. 

he looked different than when you had last seen him. taller. it had only been a year or so, but you could clearly see changes. his jaw line was more defined and he had finally learned how to tie a tie so it wasn’t crooked. his eyes, though. even from across the room, you could see that his eyes were the same.

you smiled and sent a small wave towards one of the guards as they turned to leave. minho must have thought you were waving at him, and he waved back, a huge smile plastered on his pretty lips.

you were aware that he had already put your name down as his official choice of brides, practically robbing you of any chance you had of not being forced into marriage, and you knew he was probably equally aware that you had yet to write down his name, even though it was the only one you had. 

you held back a laugh at minho waving at you, not having the heart to tell him you were waving to felix and not him as he made his way around the table and to you. you let yourself smile though. no matter how much you wanted him to hate you as much as you hated the idea of marrying him, you couldn’t be downright rude. not when the parents were watching, at least.

you stood to greet him, sending your now-forced smile in his direction. you went to shake his hand, but instead, he pulled you into a tight hug. it was short, so short that you didn’t have the time to return the hug, not that you would have wanted to. 

you sat back down and looked up to greet his parents sitting across from the two of you on your big table. your own parents were sat on the ends of the table, your father to your left and mother to your right. neither your nor minhos siblings were present.

there was no time for conversation before the cook was bringing out the food. it was nothing fancy, per your request. he brought all of the food out at once, minus the desert, instead of in different courses. 

you half expected minho to say something about the way the meal was brought out in a way that wasn’t considered the most elegant, but he didn’t. instead, his eyes went wide as he spotted the roasted chicken set down in the middle of the table.

his mother observed his behavior and laughed, “y/n, how did you know minho’s favorite food? i don’t remember sending a letter containing his favorites.”

you frowned slightly, “i didn’t, i just chose my favorite.”

at your words, your mothers shared a glance, one that said, “they’re perfect for each other.”

your father was the next to speak, “minho, why don’t you cut the chicken for us.”

once again you anticipated some sort of reaction out of the boy. he had been asked to cut the chicken when there were waiters standing all around that could most likely do it much neater than he could. it was another thing you had specifically requested to happen in order to judge his reaction. but again, to your surprise, he smiled, stood up, and began to cut even strips off of it, passing them out around the table.

he turned to you, “how much do you want?”

you ignored the softness in his voice, one that you could see yourself growing fond of if you didn’t resent the idea of loving him so much already.

“i can get my own.”

he didn’t even flinch at your response, chuckling as he cut a piece off of the bird and guided it to your plate. you had to keep yourself from pouting as you looked down at it. he’d given you just as much as you wanted.

he was making it very difficult to keep a bitter attitude towards him when he was doing everything right. how were you supposed to convince your parents he would be a terrible husband when acted like the perfect one?

after serving himself, minho reclaimed his seat beside you. you served yourself to the rest of the food as it was passed around, handing the bowls to minho when you were finished. you took notice of the way he chose food. he took a little of everything, as if he wanted to taste all of the foods you had requested to be made for his visit. you asked him about it.

“trying everything, minho?”

you dropped his formality. you should have predicted that he would take it as a sign that you were comfortable with him rather than a petty disrespect in the way you’d meant.

he nodded, sending a soft smile towards you, “i assume your chose all your favorites, princess, so i want to try them all.”

you would have blushed if someone you were fond of said it, but you weren’t blushing. no, the heat in your face was just there because the room was warm from all of the bodies and hot food.

one of the waiters came around with a bottle of wine and some glasses, offering one to everyone at the table. of course, everyone accepted, it was impolite not to, but you couldn’t help but notice that minho didn’t touch his glass as often as the rest of you.

by the time you were smiling up at the waiter as he poured you a second glass, minho still had yet to finish even half of his first. 

you ate in casual conversation until all of you had your fill. the table was slowly cleared and the meals were replaced with a small array of sweets. 

minho nudged you, pointing at one of the trays.

“what’s this?”

you were caught off guard by his voice. it was soft, timid, almost like he was embarrassed that he didn’t know what the dessert was.

“pumpkin bars.”

he nodded, “are they your favorite?”

you shrugged, shaking your head, “kinda. they’re not my favorite to eat, but i love baking them.”

his eyes widened, “you made these?”

you shook your head again, a small laugh leaving your lips. as much as you tried to stay short and serious with him, you couldn’t.

“no, but i know how.”

he paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the table before he turned to you once more, “can you teach me?”

your brows furrowed, “to make pumpkin bars?”

he nodded.

never mind. you definitely could be short with him. 

what was he playing at? why was he behaving exactly in the way you’d want him to in every obstacle you threw at him? he couldn’t actually be that good. first, he wasn’t offset by the untraditionally casual meal or being asked to serve the main dish himself, and now he was showing interest in something you liked to do. something that was considered low level, something that a princess should never have to do. and now he was asking if you would show him how?

no, he had to be faking. any walls that had been broken down by his timid voice and him making you laugh were thrown back up.

“you don’t want to bake.”

it was his turn to frown.

he reached out to stop your arm as you went to grab a slice of pie.

“what do you mean? yes i do.”

you pulled your wrist from his grip, speaking lowly so only he would hear. 

“well i don’t want to teach you.”

you missed the expression that crossed his face as you reached across the table to grab the dessert you wanted.

he didn’t say anything more. he just reached for the pie spatula as you went to set it down. his fingers grazed yours as he took the tool from your hand and you were violently aware of it, of how his fingers against your skin seemed to send a shock through your body.

he set a piece on his plate and took a bite, glancing at you. you hadn’t even registered that you had been watching him until he did. 

“how is it?”

he nodded in approval, “it’s good. do you know how to make pies, too?”

“yes. i can make most every dessert our cooks can.”

he held your gaze as he smiled at you.

you frowned, averting your eyes from his and back to your plate, “what?”

“nothing.” he began, “i just think it’s interesting that you’re so into baking now. last time we spoke you were crazy about the gardens.”

you shrugged, “who says i can’t love both?”

there was a pause before, to your surprise, you kept the conversation going.

“do you still practice archery?”

he nodded, swallowing a bite of his pie before responding.

“i can out shoot almost all of our archers.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips, “who says they’re not letting you win?”

he playfully shoved you and you laughed.

“fine, then you go against me.”

you shook your head, “anyone could beat me in archery.”

he seemed to think for a moment before softly nudging you, “i could give you some tips?”

you almost found yourself accepting his offer before you caught yourself. you were not supposed to be enjoying his company.

“i don’t need your help. if i wanted to learn i would have one of my guards teach me.”

the way his expression fell made something in your chest ache and you hoped his parents hadn’t heard the remark. you felt bad for a moment, it wasn’t his fault that you were being forced to marry him.

then a thought crossed your mind- it kind of was.

he played by their rules and pretended to be excited to marry you, but that’s not what he wanted. he knew the perks that came along with marrying you. it wasn’t you he was excited for, it was the power and status that came along with marrying you. how could he be excited to marry you when he barely knew you? he couldn’t. all he wanted was to be king, and you gave him that option. he didn’t try to fight it. maybe if he fought it like you did, you wouldn’t be forced into it. or at least not so soon.

the fact that his cooperation was only securing your unwanted future was enough to wipe that sting from your chest.

you finished the rest of your dessert in silence, listening in on your parents conversations and trying not to scream at every mention of the upcoming wedding you didn’t want to have.

“has he picked out a ring yet?” 

“no,” his mother responded, “he wanted to get to know her better first. he wants it to be perfect.”

you finished your food and pushed the plate away from you, letting the waiters know they could collect it. all of the adults were already done eating. minho finished soon after, having taken longer as he savored every bite. this left the table without food and full of conversation. 

minho only spoke again when your mother addressed him.

“is there a specific type of flower you want at the ceremony?”

he spoke softly, kindly. you could see exactly why your mother loved him so much. even without him being the only choice, he probably would have been her first choice for you.

“yes. i love lilies.”

you took a deep breath to keep yourself from blowing up, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he kept having the same favorites as you. someone told him so he could better bond with you. 

your mom knew how badly you didn’t want this wedding to happen, she probably send his family a letter of ways to win your favor.

“it would be the perfect time to have the ceremony outside,” minho’s mother gushed, “the green suits them both.”

your dad laughed, “every color suits our y/n.”

“what color were you thinking, dear?” your mother turned to you.

your eyes shot to her. you were about to snap that you didn’t care about colors because you hoped there would be no wedding to coordinate colors to, but minhos parents were in the room. you couldn’t risk upsetting them and throwing off the good relationship your kingdoms had simply because you didn’t want to marry their son.

cutting off the marriage would be one thing. if it was mutual, it wouldn’t harm any relationships between the kingdoms. it would just stall your transition to power until you were forced against another possible husband. insulting him in front of his parents, however, might.

instead, you opted to look over at minho and pull a false smile onto your features.

“i think purple would suit him well.”

his parents didn’t catch the falseness of your cheerful tone or the way the smile on your lips was obviously forced, but minho did.

“oh, you’re so right!”

you asked one of the servants for the time and stood up.

“mom, i need to water my plants. may i?”

she nodded gesturing to the boy beside you, “take minho with you.”

you nodded, turning to leave the room without waiting for him. you heard your mother mutter something about your own little garden that you refused to let the staff tend for instead of  doing it yourself.

minho caught up as you were partly down the hallway. 

“y/n, is something wrong?”

you stopped, nearly causing him to crash into you.

“is something wrong? minho, this whole thing is wrong.”

he frowned, following again as you made your way to the garden entrance, “what do you mean?”

you opened the door to the garden a little harsher than you probably needed to and began filling a watering jug, “people should be able to fall in love before marriage.”

he shrugged, “there’s plenty of time for you to fall in love with me before the ceremony.”

you sent a glare towards him, “i want to choose who i love, minho.”

“then choose me.”

you shook your head, choosing not to respond. he followed you across the garden and to a small, fenced off patch that he assumed to be your personal garden.

you could feel his eyes on you as you went around and checked the soil around each plant before watering the ones that needed it. he wasn’t saying anything, he was just watching you. you let him stand in silence.

he followed you back to the entrance where you sat your watering can down and to a small bench where he took his seat beside you.

you put some distance between the two of you when he sat down right next to you and he noticed, just as he had noticed every other less than loving way you’d reacted to each of his attempts to show affection.

his chest tightened, why did you hate him so much? he thought you two were on good terms. the last time you saw each other, you laughed and joked with him. what was different now? was the idea of marrying him really that bad? 

maybe you were just nervous. 

people handle nerves differently, he reminded himself, maybe yours just made you snappy. it wasn’t anything to worry about. plenty of people had second thoughts before their weddings. you just had to get used to him was all, since you hadn’t seen each other in so long. then you would go back to joking with him and your he happy to have him as your husband.

he was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you don’t drink much?” you were referring to the glass of wine he had barely finished during dinner.

he shook his head, “it makes my mind foggy.”

you chuckled. he liked the sound. somehow, it was sweeter knowing that it was because of him.

“isn’t that what alcohol is supposed to do?”

he smiled, “i guess. but i wanted to be able to see you clearly.”

something akin to butterflies woke up inside your stomach. you ignored them as you stood abruptly, heading immediately for the door. he followed you out of the garden and back to the dining room where your families were seated. they turned as you stepped through the door.

“mother, it’s getting late and they have a long ride home.”

minho said nothing, standing at your side like it’s where he belonged, once again too close for comfort.

his parents agreed, standing along with your parents and thanking them for having them over. his mother hugged you goodbye at the front door before stepping into a carriage with her husband and son.

you were thankful that minho hadn’t tried to hug you goodbye. or much worse, kiss you.

he spent the carriage ride home wishing he had.

it was only a matter of days before his family was visiting again. since minho would be living in your castle with you, your parents decided it was best to have him visit you again rather than you go to his kingdom.

“y/n, the lees will be here soon, get dressed!” 

“i am dressed.”

“then get out here!”

you groaned and chan laughed beside you.

“stop laughing at my pain.” you scolded him, “i’ll have you fired from the guard.”

he laughed again, “you would never. who would protect you then?”

you grumbled as you straightened your dress and opened the door, “felix. woojin. seungmin. literally any of the other guards.”

he pouted, coming to stand next to you as you walked down the hallway and to the front where you would be greeting minho.

he was going to complain, but you cut him off when you saw minho and his family standing near the doorway.

“go join the others.” you told chan, “but be on watch. you might need to save minho from me if he acts like he was last time.”

chan laughed, heading to stand with the rest of the guards.

minho noticed the friendly interaction and smiled. he liked how you were always so nice to the servants. he noticed it during the meal too, when you smiled and joked with the waiter.

“sorry to keep you waiting.” you bowed politely to his parents.

you turned to minho, “hello.”

a big smile spread across his features, “hi again, my love.”

he had taken a risk with those being the first words out of his mouth. he thought that maybe seeing him again and time to adjust had gotten you used to the idea of him. he thought maybe your attitude would have changed towards him.

he was wrong. although you couldn’t make a point of showing it in front of his parents, he could see by the slight change in your eyes at the choice of the name that he was definitely wrong.

“would you kids leave the adults to talk for a while?” your mother spoke.

she placed one hand on your shoulder and the other on minho’s, “you can go wherever you’d like, just stay clear of your bedroom.”

your face flushed red and glared at your mom as minhos parents laughed. was she trying to embarrass you? did she think you’d laugh at the joke? it wasn’t funny.

knowing you wouldn’t last long without blowing up with teasing like that, you took a hold of minho’s hand and drug him away from your parents. you allowed him to walk beside you this time instead of rushing to be in front of him, but you dropped his hand practically as soon as you’d taken it.

he’d assumed the garden was your destination, so when you walked past the doorway to the giant greenhouse, he spoke up.

“where are we going?”

“i don’t know yet.”

you ended up at the base of a staircase that lead to the roof of the castle. without questioning you, he followed you up the stairs and to the open roof. you were immediately met with a burst of cold air, but the longer you stood in the wind, the easier it became to handle. 

you followed minho as he made his way across the roof and towards the edge, throwing his legs over and sitting with them dangling down as he took in the view.

he probably expected to go sit with him, so you did. that in no way meant you were going to begin complying with everything, it just meant that you were choosing to be civil in that moment.

he noticed as you glanced back at the door you’d entered the roof from.

“what is it?”

“my mother must have told my guards not to follow us.”

he shrugged, “why would you need guards when you’re with me?”

you huffed, “in case i decide to bite your head off.”

he laughed at the remark, and even though you hadn’t intended it as a joke, you laughed along with him. something about his laugh made it impossible to sit there with a scowl on your face.

“tell me what’s so bad about me, then.”

a teasing grin spread across your face as you looked at him, “god, where do i start...”

he gestured for you to continue, but your mind ran blank. what exactly was so bad about him? the majority of your issues weren’t with him in specific.

then one thing popped into your mind like a big red flag.

“you’re forcing me into marriage.”

he frowned, “i don’t think so, not really. if i refused to marry you, you would simply wait another year or two as a princess until your parents were able to find another prince for you.” he paused, “in some ways, i actually think i’m saving you.”

“saving me?” you scoffed out.

“yes. from some creep you might be forced to marry instead of me if i decline as harshly as you are.”

“who says you’re not a creep, lee minho?”

his face morphed into faux offense, “my mother says i’m quite the gentleman, thank you very much.”

you let out a small chuckle before responding. he did have a point, you were going to be forced into a marriage eventually, whether it be this one or not. at least you knew him. was a couple extra years of freedom worth marrying someone you didn’t know at all? or would it be wisest to settle for minho? 

either way, you still didn’t understand why you needed a man at all to lead.

“why can’t i just lead alone? i don’t need a king.”

“there’s two thrones for a reason.”

he saw the confusion across your face and continued.

“two leaders is safer than one. it requires compromise and thought, not just one person making the choices according to their opinion only.”

you nodded, and you hated how much his explanation of everything was making sense. 

“it’s the same reason they make a king marry before taking the throne if they can help it.”

there was a short pause before he spoke again, “i mean, technically, if both of your parents died right now, there would be no option other than to send you to the throne alone. and as the queen, no one could tell you to get married. but unless you want to assassinate your parents,” he brought his hand to rest on top of yours, “you’re stuck with me.”

ignoring the searing heat of his skin touching yours, you narrowed your eyes up at him as you spoke.

“you make it tempting.”

he laughed again, and this time you had intended for it to be humorous. 

it was cleared now why things were the way they were. it would have been so much easier if your parents took a second to explain it in the way minho had. he was very good with explaining things, a talent a good king needs to have.

maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to lead with.

still, you didn’t resent the situation any less than you had before understanding it.

you turned from the view of the mountains to find minho already staring back at you. it wasn’t until you noticed the way the sun framed his face that you noticed how quickly the sun had been setting, had you really been outside with him that long?

you traced the lines of his face with your eyes, admiring the way the sun sat on his skin as if it was made for the purpose. 

you frowned in confusion as the shapes across his face began to grow, and before you could register it, his lips were only moments away from yours. you reacted quickly, thankful that he had paused to give you the option to do so.

he didn’t seem surprised as the palms of your hands connected to his chest, pushing him away from you. 

you stood from the edge, dusting off your dress and motioning to the door.

“i’m not supposed to be outside at dark without my guards.”

you knew that that didn’t matter, your parents trusted minho to keep you safe, that’s the whole reason they didn’t feel the need to send guards with you in the first place. you figured he probably knew that too, but he didn’t comment on it. instead, he nodded, following you to the staircase and opening the door for you, walking with you around the castle as you looked for your parents.

you found them in the first place you looked, the lounge. you waited for a pause in their conversation before making yourself known.

“it’s getting dark, shall i ask for the carriage?”

your mother sent you a worried smile as your dad spoke.

“sweetheart, they’re staying the night. we’ll have a carriage sent to take king and queen lee home in the morning.

you frowned, glancing at minho. he shrugged.

“the king and queen? what about minho?”

“he’ll be living here from now on. he might as well get used to his new home.”

your face fell.

“what about my things?” minho questioned. he seemed much more calm about the news than you, but he didn’t seem to know any more about the situation.

his mother waved the question off, “i sent for some carriages with your things as soon as we made the decision for you to remain here. they’ve already arrived and are waiting to be unpacked.”

“where are they?” he questioned.

his mother laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your bedroom.”

“where is that?”

your dad cut in, “y/n can show you.”

that’s when it hit you- his bedroom was your bedroom. that’s why your mother had told you to stay clear of it. she had anticipated the conversation about minho staying and wanted the area to be clear if they chose to move his things in. your mother hadn’t meant it as a joke at all, she said it as an order.

trying to hide your frustration, you grabbed minho’s hand and turned to leave.

“we’ll start to unpack now!”

you ignored both your and his parents calls as you dragged him down the hallways and to your bedroom. 

the first thing you noticed was that some of your personal items were being carried out of the door as you watched. things that made your bedroom yours. stacks of books you loved to read and even piles of papers containing words of your own were being handled by random personnel. not even your own guards, staff you had never met was handling your personal things. it would be one thing if it was chan or one of your friends moving things out, but it wasn’t. you hadn’t even seen chan or the rest of your guard since you greeted minho when he arrived.

their soul job was to protect you, and they had been relieved of duty while you were with minho, so why couldn’t they have been the ones to handle your things? it would still have upset you, obviously, but it would have been far less intrusive to have people you know and trust doing it.

you felt tears brimming in your eyes. your parents knew how much you valued privacy, and yet they let people you’d never even seen on the property handle everything you valued. 

minho’s eyes were just as attached to the scene ahead of you until he heard a soft whimper leave your lips. immediately, he had his arms around you and your face buried in his chest.

you wanted to pull away, to shove him and curse at him for coming into your life like this, but instead, you gripped the fabric of his button up shirt and let him hold you close.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, “i didn’t know.”

and then he did something you would never have expected.

“excuse me!” he called, his authoritative voice echoing down the hallway, “you can stop now. put whatever is in your hands down and leave.”

the movers hesitated, not knowing whether or not to follow his commands yet, but they ended up obeying. he stopped one of the men as he moved to walk past the two of you, you still secure and crying into his chest.

“where did you put the things you moved?”

the worker gestured to the things in the hall outside your bedroom, “everything we moved is in this hallway, your royal highness.”

“and my things?”

“waiting for you further down the hall.”

he nodded and let the man leave before slowly pulling you off of him. he felt a squeeze in his heart as you looked up at him with red, tear filled eyes. 

he led you into your room, “let’s get you to your bed.”

you let out a small sob at his words, “that’s not my bed.”

he was confused for a moment before it registered in his mind. they must have switched out your old bed in favor of a larger one to suit the both of you, even though the one you had before would have no doubt done the job fine. you’d probably had a queen at the smallest.

the longer minho held you, the less you wanted to push him away and blame him for everything that was happening.

he walked you over to the bed and sat you down, taking a seat beside you so you could remain attached to him.

he knew that it wasn’t him you found comfort in, but rather just a warm body to hug. still, having you so close to him felt so right, he couldn’t bring himself to care. it felt like you were finally responding to him like a woman should to her fiancé. you were letting him take care of you.

truth be told, if he could have scooped you up in his arms the day he first saw you after learning you were to be his wife a few days prior, he would have, and he never would have let go. 

when he saw your name on the piece of paper handed to him, he didn’t even read the rest. even before opening the letter, your name had popped into his mind. he’d always had a childish crush on you. even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.

so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.

as he moved you up the bed and snuggled himself in beside you before pulling the covers up to keep you warm, he wondered if maybe tonight would change that.

maybe you would realize that you liked the feeling of being in his arms, of having him hold you close. as your sniffles became softer and eventually stopped, he wondered if you’d realize that falling asleep next to him was something you could get used to.

because oh goodness, after falling asleep with you in his arms, even though the both of you were still in uncomfortable cloths and had fallen asleep upset, he didn’t ever want to go to bed without you again.

you were woken up only a little while after falling asleep to the sound of soft knocking on your door. minho stirred beside you and you both sat up to see who it was.

both of your mothers were standing in the doorway with adoration in their eyes at the sight in front of them. 

“and here i thought you’d be upset over the room.” your mother cooed as she made her way into the room.

you shifted yourself away from minho and you could have sworn you heard a whine of complaint come from him as your body lost contact to his. or maybe it was you.

his mother approached the bed as well, taking hold of his collar and straightening it out.

“goodness, you two didn’t even bother to change into sleep clothes.”

minho responded before you could, “we hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“what time is it?” you added.

“not late,” your mother responded, “it was still only 10:30 when we headed up to check on you.”

you nodded, and as the sleep wore off, the anger kicked in. before you burst, you stood and ushered them out of the room.

“i’ll get changed now, then, and then we can organize and unpack a little tonight.”

“we can help!” his mother chimed.

before you could deny the offer, minho did.

“no mother, we want to set up our bedroom ourselves, please.”

happy with the response, she nodded and followed your mother out of the room and back to wherever your fathers were waiting.

minho stood from the bed and looked into your closet.

“it doesn’t look like any of my clothes are here yet, so i’ll leave you to change. i can find something in a box and i’ll find a place to change.”

you nodded as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

you sat on the edge of your bed for a moment before standing up and grabbing the same sleep clothes you wore every night. they had already been washed in the morning and pressed dry, ready for you to use again.

you tried to undo the buttons on the back of your dress, but you couldn’t reach. chan had helped you do them earlier in the day. you reached your arm over the opposite shoulder in an attempt to reach the buttons, straining the fabric of the dress in a weird way. you heard the sound of stitches coming undone and pulled your arm back into a normal position, inspecting the place the noise had come from. sure enough, there were little pieces of thread hanging around a small tear in the arm of your dress.

defeated, you sat down on your bed and waited for minho to return. it wasn’t long before he did, signaling his presence with a couple soft knocks to the door. you called for him to come in and he did, pausing in surprise when he saw you still in the dress, your night clothes bundled in your hands.

“i can’t reach the buttons.”

he threw his head back in understanding, taking a few steps towards you as you turned your back to him, moving your hair out of the way of the buttons. 

you didn’t know what you’d expected, but the gentle touch of his fingers against your neck as he undid the top button sent a shiver through you. you hoped he didn’t notice, but by the way his movements stopped for a split second before continuing, you knew he had.

he undid the buttons until there were none left, leaving the top half of your back exposed to him where your dress fell open. his eyes ghosted over your shoulder blades and the smooth skin of your back. he wanted to place his palm there, to feel the warmth of your skin in more than just the tips of his fingers. he actually might have, despite his best judgement, if you hadn’t spoke up.

“are you done?”

he muttered a soft word of confirmation as you turned to face him again, hands holding the fabric to your chest to pretend it from falling off. 

he stared at you for a moment before reality seemed to flow back into his head.

“let me know when you’re done.”

you nodded, waiting until he pulled the door closed behind him to let the dress fall to the floor. you took your time changing. it felt nice to be alone. after a few minutes, though, an unexpected feeling built up in your chest. it was nice to be alone, but you missed minhos company. or maybe you just missed company.

that was it, you told yourself, you just missed having someone around. your resolve was not breaking this quickly. you were upset and frustrated with how things were going and he was just as good as anyone, except maybe chan, to keep you company.

you called out for him to come back in and he did, immediately taking the clothes you’d just changed out of and setting them in a bin outside your door where they would wait until someone came and took them for cleaning. 

you followed him to the door, heading right for a pile of books that had been taken off of your personal bookshelf. luckily, they hadn’t moved the shelf out of your bedroom yet, so you only had the books to carry back in.

you did the same for a few other things, things that you couldn’t imagine not having in your room, before turning to minho.

“what do you want moved in next?” he asked.

“something of yours.”

he was shocked by your reply, almost as if he had expected you to return your bedroom to the way it was before he arrived and pretend his things didn’t exist.

sure, you didn’t like that you had to remove your things from your room to make room for his stuff, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it right then. it wasn’t your room anymore. it belonged to the both of you.

at least until you could convince your parents to cancel the wedding, that is. that was still the plan.

“uh, okay,” minho began down the hallway, scanning his things as he did. he finally settled on a pretty, dark wooded desk. it had drawers along the side and it looked very used. you were surprised his parents let him keep it with how old it looked. it must have been important to him.

he insisted that he could carry it alone, but eventually he let you help. it fit perfectly in the room, almost like it was meant to be there. you placed it a couple feet away from your own desk, which was a similar color. it was a similar build too, with drawers on the sides.

back in the hallway, minho sighed as he attempted to move a large bookcase of his.

“we can’t move this alone. it can wait until morning.”

you nodded, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

“there’s room on mine, if you want. we can put this in storage and you can put your books with mine. there’s no need for two bookcases in one room.”

he was slightly taken aback by your offer, but nodded. he liked that you were getting used to sharing. getting used to it being not just your room, but his too. maybe you had changed your mind about him already.

“okay,” he agreed, “then we can take some books in.”

you grumbled, “but only one load. then we’re done for tonight.”

he laughed, assuring you that it was the last load of the night and walking back to the bedroom beside you, books in hand.

you helped him organize the books on the shelf, interlocking them with yours when it looked best to do so. the bookshelf was still quite empty, but that was fine. you had more books somewhere in the hall that you hadn’t bothered to search for and he had more, too.

you sat down on the bed, still messed up from your little nap, and sighed, but you didn’t say anything.

instead, minho did. after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, he sat down beside you and spoke.

“why won’t you let me kiss you?”

you were surprised by the sudden question, “you only tried once.”

“you’d only push me away again if i tried another time.”

“you gave me the chance to push you away.”

“because i knew you would.”

“then why try?”

“because i want to kiss you. why don’t you want to kiss me?”

you faltered at the confidence in his words. sure, his earlier actions had made it clear he wanted to kiss you, he wouldn’t have tried to otherwise, but hearing him say it out loud felt different. it made it click in your mind that he meant it, that it was real.

“i don’t- i already told you.”

“no you didn’t.”

“yes, i did.” you insisted, “i told you. i don’t want to be in a relationship that’s forced.”

and there it was. despite the progress he thought he’d made with you, there it was. that same angry, bitter attitude towards whatever relationship you two had. 

he shoved the disappointment down his throat and replied, “then don’t force it. i’m not.”

he said it casually, just like he said and did everything else he did around you. his laid back demeanor gave the illusion that maybe his words were honest. maybe he wasn’t forcing anything he felt for you, maybe he genuinely did look forward to the wedding, and not only for the power. you shoved the thought from your mind, looking forward to marrying you and looking forward to taking control of your kingdom were not the same thing.

as had become common for you, you chose not to respond, instead scooting yourself along the bed until you had your head on a pillow, pulling the blankets over yourself. you felt the bed shift as he did the same, reaching out to shut off any lights in the room before crawling under the same blankets as you. 

as badly as he wanted to pull you close to his chest and hold you while he fell asleep like he had hours before, he knew he couldn’t. everything in the way you were responding to him now told him that you would just push him away, maybe even change your mind about sleeping in the same bed as him and make him move to the floor. or worse, move there yourself.

no, minho didn’t want you to sleep on the floor and he didn’t want to upset you further than he knew he already had, so he stayed to himself. with your back to him, he listened to the even sounds of your breathing as you fell asleep. that would have to be enough for him for now.

the next morning was a repeat of the night before, minus minhos thoughts that you could be finally accepting him, maybe even growing feelings that didn’t involve resentment and anger.

after sending his parents off with a promise of them returning soon, just like the night before, you spent the day rearranging the room with him. you refused any help from your parents or anyone else, partially because you didn’t want anyone to touch your things again and partially because you couldn’t stand to be around them at the moment.

unlike before, though, your comfort and coziness to minho had worn off. you were no longer showing him any form of physical affection. 

you still kept the room fair, although it didn’t feel like it was half you and half him. it felt like its own place. it wasn’t partially him, the other half you- it was 100% the two of you, together.

you actually quite liked the way the room turned out. you weren’t being as snappy to him as you originally had been, but the atmosphere wasn’t anything close to before, when you’d looked to him for comfort from the pain rather than looking at him like he was the source of it all.

minho hated seeing you cry. when he noticed your state the night before and pulled you into his chest, he could have sworn his heart broke, like it would have fallen right out of his chest if you hadn’t been there holding it in. that reason exactly is why he felt so bad now.

he didn’t want you to cry, he didn’t want you to be sad, but he almost wished you would again, if it meant you would let your walls down for him again. anything to put you back in his arms.

you were walking back to your bedroom after dinner and tending to your garden, exhausted from life and redecorating your room. you were growing used to spending nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment with minho, even beginning to enjoy his company, but that didn’t mean small moments alone weren’t appreciated.

you knew it would only be a few minutes, but walking alone to your shared bedroom while minho was speaking to your parents felt like heaven. 

you didn’t remain alone for long, but it didn’t bother you. not when the person breaking the isolation was your best friend.

you jogged down the hallway and to your bedroom door where chan was standing, waiting for you. you hadn’t seen him since minho had arrived days prior.

you threw your arms around him the moment you reached him, happy to finally see him again. it hadn’t been that long, but considering he was usually with you constantly, a few days felt like forever. he pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead as you smiled up at him.

you were about to ask him why he hadn’t been around when someone interrupted you.

“i thought you didn’t have brothers.” minho’s voice.

“i don’t.” you payed no attention to chan’s arm around your waist.

he nodded, “then this is?”

chan stepped away from you and reached his hand out to minho, “ah, i’m sorry! i’m chan, head of y/n’s personal guard.”

minho nodded again, taking chan’s hand and gripping it firmly.

“minho. y/n’s fiancé.”

releasing minhos hand and stepping back to you, chan laughed, “i know that, you’re all anyone is talking about recently.”

minho raised an eyebrow, locking his eyes to yours.

“am i?”

“of course!” chan babbled, “everyone’s excited for the wedding.”

minho scoffed, eyes still glued to yours.

“not everyone.” 

he didn’t bother to excuse himself before he shoved past you and chan, an action that could have easily been avoided with all the space the hallway held, and into your bedroom. 

a confused expression plastered on your face as you turned to chan.

“i know i complain a lot, but he’s usually not that bad. not even near it.”

chan frowned, lowering his voice. minho was right inside the door, after all.

“did you get into a fight or something?”

you shook your head, why did it actually bother you that he seemed upset with you?

“maybe you should go talk to him?”

you debated it in your mind. you probably should go check out what was bothering him, he was fine not even twenty minutes ago at dinner, but you also wanted to stay and talk to chan. you wanted to catch up, to vent.

as if reading your mind, chan turned you to face him.

“hey, go. we’ll see each other plenty now. your mom wanted us to give you space for a while, but the guard is back on full duty.”

you nodded, eyes trained on your bedroom door. you walked away from chan practically the moment he gave you the good to go, stepping into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. 

it didn’t take you long to find minho. he was sat in his desk chair, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. he didn’t look up until you addressed him.

your voice was soft, “minho?”

if he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would have celebrated at your caring tone.

instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“what?”

your frown grew, “what happened? are you okay?”

“yeah,” he stood from his seat, mumbling as he crossed the room to the closet, where he pulled out his sleeping clothes and began to unbutton his day shirt, “i’m fine.”

maybe he expected you to leave it at that. it seemed that’s what he wanted, considering his choice to suddenly switch to his night clothes. whenever he started to undress, you hurried out of the room. this time, though, you were worried about him. actually worried about him.

so you stayed put.

“minho, i can tell that’s not true. you’re upset.”

he scoffed. as if your words had broken some dam inside of him, he let his frustrations free. his hands flew into the air, completely abandoning his shirt, which he had barely begun to unbutton.

“pardon me for not cheering when i see another man kissing my fiancé!”

“you- chan? you’re upset because i was speaking to my best friend.”

you said it more as a statement than a question.

“no,” he took a couple steps towards you, abandoning his sleep it’s clothes over the foot of the bed, “i’m upset because he kissed you.”

“on the forehead.”

“you wouldn’t let me do that though, would you?”

he was right in front of you now. you stuttered before replying, and it clicked in your mind: he was jealous. your demeanor softened.

“you’re mad that i let him kiss me and not you?”

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, a small pout on his lips.

the sight triggered something inside of you. he looked so real, so sad. he looked, for a lack of better words, genuinely hurt. it put the notion in your head that maybe he did care more about marrying you than just taking control of your kingdom.

you sighed, walking past him and to the closet, grabbing your change of clothes before stepping off into the bathroom to change. you heard him let out a soft sigh as you shut the door behind you, he must have assumed you dropped the topic. you didn’t know if he was glad that a fight hadn’t escalated or if he was upset that the conversation didn’t get to the point where he could kiss you and blame it on a flurry of emotions and jealousy.

you got into your sleeping clothes and, trusting that he had changed as well, you stepped back into the bedroom without asking if it was okay. you went straight for the bed, wordlessly finding a comfortable position as he slid in beside you. he reached out to shut off the lights and lay flat on his back, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself to calm down enough to sleep when he felt a weight on his waist followed by a warm presence pressing up against his side. he made a small sound of surprise as he looked down.

there you were, arm draped over his torso, cuddled into his side. your eyes were shut and your head rested against his chest.

any frustration he’d felt towards you far gone, he took the chance to wrap his arms around you, securing you to his body as if you were going to run away at any moment. he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. it was so light you wondered if he’d meant for you to feel it at all.

you shifted slightly, keeping your arm around his waist as you offered a small smile against his chest.

“there. even.”

things got easier from then on, although you wouldn’t admit it. you’d dropped your attempts  at hating your new fiancé, how were you supposed to dislike him? you hadn’t dropped your hard feelings towards the situation and you definitely hadn’t agreed or started complying to the wedding, but you could bring it upon yourself to keep trying to be cold to minho. not even when the day was filled with wedding planning and dress fitting.

you’d woken up still in minho’s arms, even more so than you’d been when you had fallen asleep. your back was flat against his chest and one of his legs was sprawled over yours, practically trapping you as his arms held you around the waist. 

maybe you should have been surprised to wake up that close to him or tried to pry his hands off of you, but you didn’t, and you didn’t want to. you hated yourself for it, but you were beginning to really consider the idea that he was your best bet. maybe complying and marrying him would be safer and more pleasant than anyone else your parents might throw your direction in the future if this wedding got called off. 

minho shifted beside you, groaning at the light and removing an arm from your body to rub his eyes. the instant he did it, he dropped his arm back around you and held you close, as if he’d made a mistake by letting you go in the first place.

you laughed, and that’s always a good way to start a day.

it amazed minho how much your attitude towards him could change overnight. granted, you weren’t holding his hand and offering him kisses everywhere you went, but you had started actually initiating conversations with him. you joked with him and allowed yourself to laugh at his jokes, you didn’t even ignore him that much anymore. you weren’t treating him like your soon to be husband yet, but still. you treating him like a friend was better than you treating him like an enemy, even if it’s not what he really wanted.

“oh my god.” you groaned, “if i have to look at one more fucking shade of purple that looks exactly like the last and say which looks better i will absolutely lose my shit.”

he laughed, “you’re the one who said i would look hot in purple.”

you sent a glare his way, but it wasn’t like the ones you used to show him. it was joking, friendly.

“i did not say you’d look hot.”

“i think you did.”

“i can promise you i didn’t.”

“no, i’m pretty sure i remember you saying it. i think your exact words were, ‘oh, how lucky am i to have this treasure of a man as my future husband, i think purple-‘“

he was cut off by a call from the doorway of the room the two of you had been in practically all day, helping choose colors and getting fit for your wedding apparel. 

“y/n, prince minho, dinner’s done.”

you knew immediately by the choice of laid back words that it was chan. no one else, not even your other friends, spoke to you like that outside of private.

you turned to the door, “one of these days i’m going to have you tarred and feathered for disrespecting me, bang chan.”

he laughed, “i’m sure you are.”

you met him at the door before minho even had the chance to stand, shoving him lightly.

“i am! watch, i’ll bring it up at dinner.”

he laughed, walking beside you as the three of you made your way to the dining room.

“isn’t it impolite to discuss executions during meal time?”

minho walked silently beside you, it was like you’d completely forgotten his existence once chan showed up.

“i might just break etiquette to speed up your punishment.”

another small laugh from him and then you were walking through the doors and into the dining room. you and minho took your seats at the table and chan took his standing along the wall with the rest of the guard and staff.

you turned to minho, “do you think we’re done for the day, then? or do we have more purple to look forward too?”

he shrugged your attempt at a joke off, trying not to show how bothered he was. so that’s how it was going to be? the second chan leaves, then he’s interesting enough to talk to again?

“maybe they’ll finally start making decorations and the suit and dress.”

either you hadn’t noticed his attitude change or didn’t care enough to react.

“i wonder how quickly they’ll pull things together.”

you really didn’t know. they could rush and work their butts off and you could be getting married within the next week, or they could take as much time as needed for preparations. you didn’t know. and if your parents had any clue, they didn’t bring it up.

their chosen dinner conversations were the same as they had been for the past many nights. talk about the wedding, who was going to be invited. was it bad manners to invite the brides minho had rejected? or was it polite? a good portion of the time not eating was spent with your mother trying to convince you to care more about the wedding. she was wholeheartedly convinced that you’d changed your mind and fallen in love with minho because you were being friendly now. she expected you to care more about the planning now that you didn’t seem so against it.

hurrying away from the dining room as soon as possible by claiming you’d had enough wedding talk for the day, which wasn’t a lie, you and minho made your way back to your bedroom. his earlier frustrations were forgotten as the two of you sat on the bed and talked about various books across the bookshelf. 

as it turned out, some of the books ended up having to be put in storage. not for a lack of room, but simply because two copies were not needed. you shared a lot of the same interests.

“i told you,” he said, only half joking, “we’re meant for each other.”

you shoved him, pulling the book from his hands. before you could reply, he was speaking again.

“be careful! that’s my copy!”

you laughed, clutching the book to your chest and turning away as he reached for it.

“not anymore! it’s ours.”

“it is not. that is very much so mine.”

“no,” you insisted, moving again to keep him from grabbing it, “nothing in this room is yours. it’s all ours. or mine.”

he laughed, stopping his useless attempts at grabbing the book. 

“yours?”

you nodded, “my stuff is still mine. but yours is ours now.”

with that, he jumped on you, tackling you onto your back. you dropped the book somewhere during the attack and it made a loud noise as it fell to the floor.

“what about you?” he asked, easily keeping you from struggling, “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you stopped struggling, showing him the game was over.

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

you easily shoved him off of you in his stunned state. he hadn’t meant to offend you.

“y/n, that’s not what i meant.”

you cut him off as you shut the bathroom door behind you, night clothes in hand. you took significantly longer to change than you needed, both you and him knew that. he would have had time to crawl into bed and fall asleep three times over as he as waiting for you, but he didn’t. truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of falling asleep without you beside him anymore. he might have to test that theory, he didn’t know if you would let him hold you that night after he unintentionally upset you.

just as things were beginning to work, he messed it up. he really hadn’t meant to imply he owned you in any way, he was only trying to be cute, maybe get you to say yourself that you were going to marry him, maybe even that you wanted to.

he didn’t know the exact rules of falling in love, but if he could say anything for certain it would be that he was in love with you. maybe it was when he saw your name on that paper and his fantasy became a possible reality that he really fell, or maybe it was when he saw you face to face for the first time after learning you’d be the one he’d marry, he really didn’t know. he had no clue when it changed from some childish crush into fill blown love, but it did.

was it even possible to be in love with someone you’d only met a handful of times and were only paired to marry a few weeks prior? it must have been. otherwise, how would he explain the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you?

when you finally came out of the bathroom, you silently put your clothes in the basket and crawled into bed. like always, minho switched off the lights and secured the covers over himself, shifting until he found a comfortable position. he was debating in his mind if he should reach out and try to hold you or if that would just make everything worse when you scooted so your back was to his chest, not outright cuddling him but giving the invitation.

he obliged immediately, wrapping his arm around you while the other went to play with your hair. he placed another one of his gentle, barely-there kisses to the side of your head as he muttered a soft, “i’m sorry.”

he didn’t know whether you replied or not, he fell asleep as the last syllable fell from his lips.

you didn’t go as easily. if your internal clock was at all accurate, you’d been laying there for  at least two hours, wide awake. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was keeping you up, probably the wedding, maybe the small fight with minho. either way, you could think of a better way to spend the time as long as you weren’t going to fall asleep.

carefully, you pulled minho’s arms off of you and slowly crawled out of bed, trying your hardest not to wake him up. you stood at the side of the bed for a moment, watching minho to make sure you hadn’t disturbed him, before creeping over to the door. you opened it as quietly as possible and peaked out. neither of the guards stationed outside your room were chan.

felix was on duty though, and he sent you a confused look as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you. 

“where are you going? if you need something i’ll get it for you.”

you shook your head, “just can’t sleep. is chan in the bunks?”

felix nodded and you started off down the hallway towards the rooms the guards slept in when they didn’t have night duty. 

“hey, wait,” felix called after you, moving slightly as if he were going to follow, “i’m not technically supposed to let you go alone.”

you frowned at him, “it’s literally two minutes away and i’m headed to a room full of guards. i’ll be fine.”

he thought for a moment before moving back to stand in his original position, “fine. but if some hallway demon kills you on the way there that’s on you.”

you chuckled at his joke and made your way through the halls and to the wing that houses all of the staff that lived there. you weren’t technically supposed to go there at night, you weren’t really supposed to even leave your room at night, but none of the guards in the halls tried to stop you on your journey. it wasn’t uncommon for you to visit chan at night, especially not when you were younger. the both of you used to have trouble sleeping and it was much easier for you to sneak out and into his room than the other way around.

you gently opened the door and stepped into the room, heading right for chans bed. there were a dozen other sleeping guards, not all of them from your personal guard, also asleep on their own beds. you tapped chan awake, stifling your laugh when he flinched awake.

you used to wake him at least half of the nights he didn’t have duty, yet he still flinched every time you woke him up.

he looked confused to see you there but he didn’t hesitate to stand and follow you into the hallway.

when there, you went down away from the doors so you could talk freely without disturbing anyone and slid down the wall. chan did the same, seating himself right next to you.

“what’s up? you haven’t woken me up in the middle of the night for a while.”

you laughed, “yeah, i don’t know. i couldn’t sleep. plus, i’ve missed you. even with the guard back, i haven’t been able to spend time with you recently.”

he nodded, leaning to rest his head on your shoulder, “i know. i’ve missed you too.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again.

“what’s on your mind?”

you scoffed lightly, “i don’t think there’s room for anything other than thoughts about the wedding right now. i can’t even breathe without someone mentioning it.”

chan chuckled, “it is kind of a big deal.”

you ignored him, “i don’t want to marry minho, chan.”

he took a deep breath, “why?”

“why?”

“why? tell me exactly what’s so bad about him.”

you didn’t hesitate before answering, “i’m being forced into it! i didn’t even get a choice, chan!”

he ignored your words, “no, what’s bad about him? not the situation, not the wedding, minho.”

you thought for a moment, wracked your brain for answers, but you couldn’t think of one genuine issue you had against him specifically.  you’d actually began to enjoy being around him.

chan waited for a while before he decided you weren’t going to answer.

“it seems to me like you two click really well.”

you shrugged.

“i think you should give him a chance, y/n.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“i mean i think you’re upset because you don’t want to get married, not because you don’t want to get married to him. and i think he might be changing your mind whether you know it or not.”

your frown didn’t lift.

“have you ever thought that maybe it’s fate that he ended up being your only option?”

not only did your frown once again not lift, it got deeper.

“i’m telling you y/n, a best friend knows. no matter how much you say you hate him, you’re falling for that boy.”

you cut in without hesitation, “no, i am not.”

his eyes widened and a grin spread across his face, “you are! no one is that defensive when they’re not lying.”

you hit him lightly and he continued, “for real, y/n. i think you like him more than you realize. just play nice for a while.”

“i am playing nice.”

“no,” he said, “you’re acting nice. actually let your guard down around him. let him in. let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

you grumbled. if anyone was going to be able to talk you into this marriage, it would be chan.

“okay.”

he followed your actions as you stood up.

“do you want me to walk you back?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine. go back to bed.”

he chuckled at your grumpy attitude, pulling you into a tight hug before letting you go. he watched until you turned a corner and he could no longer see you before stepping back into his room.

felix greeted you at your bedroom door.

“no hallway demons?”

“no hallway demons.”

“you’re lucky.”

you laughed at the boy and sent him a weird look to which he smiled in return. just as you had earlier, you carefully retraced your steps until you were back in bed with minho. taking chan’s request for you to try to warm up more to the idea of marrying minho, you secured yourself next to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. although, you probably would have done that even if minho’s name hadn’t even come up in your and chan’s conversation. you were finding that being in minho’s arms while you slept felt good. the thought that being held by anyone while sleeping would be comforting, it wasn’t just minho, crossed your mind before chan’s words echoed in your head.

“let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

maybe it was that it was minhos arms that made it so gentle and caring. if you thought about it, you couldn’t make a list longer than what you could count on one hand of who you would let sleep in the same bed as you, let alone cuddle you while sleeping. you’d only ever fallen asleep in minho of chans arms. and your parents, of course.

maybe you did feel deeper for the boy than you let yourself realize. maybe, despite every word coming out of your mouth insisting that you didn’t, you wanted to marry him.

several days went by, several wedding preparations were made. it turned out that they’d decided to go the rushed route, planning to hold the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. it was only two day’s out now. even though you still hadn’t even officially stated your acceptance of the wedding, preparations were in full force.

as you studied your reflection and took in the details of the gown you’d be wearing as you walked down the isle, you wondered how hard the seamstress’ must have worked to produce such a gorgeous piece of art in only a few days.

it was the traditional white color and it wasn’t anything overly fancy, you’d made it clear you wouldn’t wear it if it was. despite how quickly it had been made, it was clear it wasn’t rushed. every stitch looked perfect.

there were small embroidered designs along the fabric, popping out against the white of the base. the designs were a beautiful lilac purple, and although you knew that you and minho had chosen the exact shade, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the shade from any of the other light purples that the seamstresses had in stock.

you assumed that minho had the same purple accenting his suit, but you had no clue what it looked like. your mothers were very adamant about neither of you seeing each other in the wedding apparel before the big event.

you bet he looked amazing.

you continued to admire yourself and the dress as several people checked the fitting, making sure the sizing was perfect and didn’t need any more alterations. when they decided it was, you found yourself not wanting to take the dress off quite yet. you couldn’t help but be excited for the next time you’d get to wear it.

minho was waiting for you when you stepped out of the room and into the hallway. apparently his fitting had taken less time than yours. suits did tend to be easier to size.

you let him take your hand as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. you’d taken chan’s advice and stopped shoving down emotions, and it made you realize how much you genuinely enjoyed minho. as much as you hated the way things worked and the way you got put together, you were beginning to think that maybe it had some sense to it. chan might have been right when he said that minho being your only choice was fate.

you dropped his hand to pick up the watering jug and fill it. he insisted on carrying it to your garden. you made no attempt to take it back when he held it out for you.

“no,” you laughed, “i showed you how to tell if they need watered yesterday. you do it.”

his eyes widened, “y/n, i seriously don’t think you want me to do that, i’ll kill them.”

“you will not,” you giggled, “but fine. i’ll help you.”

you approached the first plant along with him. it was a large basil plant. you didn’t use it for cooking or baking, the garden had plenty of basil that was used to harvest, but this one was just for show.

“check the soil.”

he did as you instructed, pressing his fingers into the dirt to check for moisture.

“i think it’s okay?”

his words came out as more of a question than a statement.

you reached forward and double checked, smiling and clapping your hands together when you realized he’d gotten it correct.

he did the same for the next plant, a lavender bush, claiming more confidently now that it didn’t need watered yet either. you checked, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“i can’t believe you’re trying to kill my lavender plant. how could you?”

he sputtered, “i’m not! i really thought that it was fine!”

you huffed, taking the water from his hand and watering the plant.

“i can never trust you again.”

you started to check the other plants, watering a few of them. he complained and promised he’d learn better, but you continued to ignore him.

“my own fiancé... trying to kill my babies.”

you only stopped teasing him when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you tight and promising into your shoulder that he didn’t want to hurt your plants.

you turned to face him, his hands still resting on your hips.

“okay, i’ll give you one more chance.”

you gestured towards the last few plants you had yet to check, a couple flowers that minho couldn’t what you said were named.

he walked up to them, taking his time to check them before turning to you.

“the yellow ones are okay, the purple and blue ones need watered.”

you eyes him suspiciously as you went to check his claim, breaking out in a smile when you found that he was correct.

“technically, the yellow ones could use a little water, but i’ll say you passed.”

he laughed and watched you water the last plants before reaching out your free hand and taking hold of his. you set the watering can by the door and made your way back to your bedroom where minho dropped your hand and headed to his desk.

he’d grown confident enough in your comfort towards him that he wasn’t afraid to do things like that anymore, drop your hand or break away from a hug. he knew you’d let him hold you again. it wasn’t like less than a week earlier where he felt like you might run away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

he leaned down and shuffled through some papers on his desk. you recognized them as archery point sheets. he hadn’t been lying when he said he was good, he scored nines and tens easily from distances you wouldn’t have even been able to get close to hitting the target at, even after letting him give you some tips on aiming.

you snickered as you pulled out one specific scoring sheet that caught your eye. it was an insanely long distance round, the longest he’d ever tried yet, and he’d managed to score two nines and an eight.

you laughed as you help the paper up, “an eight? you suck.”

he tried to glare at you, but a smile poked through. you saw him made a move and dropped the paper, darting to get away from him.

he caught you quite easily, tackling you onto the bed. he held you loosely as he straddled you.

“take it back. say i’m the best archer you’ve ever seen.”

you shook your head, smile plastered on your lips.

“take it back!” he whined.

you shook your head again, trying not to laugh.

“whatever.” he released you from his grip, crawling off of you, “this is why i tried to kill your plants.”

you gasped, “i knew it!”

he laughed as he reached for his pajamas, stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door lightly shut. it didn’t close all the way, there was still a small crack. he wasn’t as shy as you were, you’d learned that all too well. you were surprised he even went into the bathroom at all.

he waited until he heard you drop your day clothes into the bin before coming back into the bedroom. he put his dirty clothes next to yours and crawled into bed beside you, following his same routine of shutting off the lights before pulling you into his arms.

as he always did with you there beside him, he fell asleep easily.

you had fallen into a deep sleep as well before something woke you up a couple hours later. you couldn’t say what it was that had woken you, maybe it was nothing at all. regardless, you sat there for a few minutes before realizing you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. you looked at the boy beside you.

you considered waking him up to keep you company until you could fall asleep again, but decided against it. he looked too peaceful. chan, however, you had no issue waking from a peaceful sleep.

sitting a few yards from any doors leading to people sleeping, you spoke to your best friend.

“am i going crazy, channie?”

he hummed, “probably, but why?”

you sent a light glare towards him before answering, “being kind of excited for the wedding.”

he broke out into a huge grin, “i so called it.”

you frowned in confusion and he continued.

“i said you were in love with him and you so are.”

you shook your head, “i’m not... in love with him,” 

why did the words seem foreign? 

“i just think i might, i don’t know, actually see us working out, and not just as a royal couple, together to rule. like as a genuine pair.”

he made a sound of understanding, “you’re totally in love with him.”

you didn’t deny it a second time.

you frowned as you approached your bedroom door. there was a faint light peaking out from under the crack in the door. you inched it open to find minho awake, sat up on the bed reading with a single lamp on. he looked up when he heard you enter.

“hey,” you greeted him, “why are you awake?”

he shrugged, “guess i got cold without you next to me.”

you got back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over your legs and leaning over to see what he was reading.

“what are you reading?”

he shut the book momentarily, marking his page with his finger and showing you the cover before flipping it back open and resuming where he left off.

you frowned. it wasn’t like him to ignore you like this.

“is something wrong? did you have a nightmare?”

he shut his book, tossing it to the ground beside his side of the bed. he pressed his lips together.

“yeah, i keep having these dreams that my fiancé is leaving in the middle of the night to secretly meet up with some guy. it’s weird.”

you raised your eyebrows, “who told you that?”

he shrugged, “asked the guard outside the door one night after you left what you were doing, he said you were visiting chan.”

you nodded, “yeah, i do that sometimes, is that an issue?”

he scoffed, “no, i just brought it up for fun.”

you pursed your lips, “really, minho? why does it bother you so much?”

there was no hesitation in his next words, almost as if he’d been itching to say them for a while now.

“is there something going on between you two?”

you scoffed, “seriously? you really think that?”

by now he had stood from the bed, “it doesn’t seem so crazy.”

you stood as well, challenging him as you stepped around the bed and in front of him.

“yeah, it does. it sounds insane.”

he looked you straight in the eyes, “does it? because it makes perfect sense to me. you won’t let me kiss you, you won’t sign the marriage contact even though you know you’re stuck with me, you’re so comfortable around him and you keep leaving in the middle of the night to meet with him in secret. it literally screams affair, y/n!”

“you seriously believe that i would cheat on you?”

“i don’t even think you see it as cheating since you don’t take a single fucking part of our relationship seriously.”

he took a step forward and you instinctively stepped back.

“i do take it seriously.”

he continued to close in on you until your back was pressed to the wall.

“then act like it.”

without thinking, you did just that. you acted.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, crashing his lips to yours. it wasn’t what you’d expected your first kiss to be like, you’d actually imagined it would be at the altar, but you weren’t complaining.

he reacted immediately, hands finding their way across your body. he slid one down your leg, stopping at your thigh and tapping it. you got the message, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. your back collided with the wall and the paintings hung there shook a little, but  you couldn’t be bothered to care. not when he tasted as good as he did.

one hand secure on your thigh to hold you up, the other found its way under your night gown and up your bare leg to the bare skin of your torso. he broke away for a moment as his fingers inched higher up.

“is this okay?”

you barely had time to mumbled a yes before your lips were back on his. you hadn’t realized you wanted to kiss him so bad until you finally did.

he let you breathe for a second as he peppered kisses along your neck, his hand exploring your body under your gown. his fingers found their way to your breasts and he squeezed one, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips.

he cursed at the sound, attaching his lips back to yours and turning to walk you to the bed. he easily sat you down, back to the mattress, and hiked up your night dress. you let out another soft moan when his hands finally made their way to your core. he ran his fingers over your clothed folds.

“you swear this is only mine?”

you nodded, “yes.”

“you promise?” he spoke between kisses, “tell me you promise.”

“i promise.”

that seemed to be enough for him as he growled against your lips, slipping his hand down the waistband of your panties.

you struggled to keep quiet as he finally made direct contact to your dripping core.

he cooed, “what, baby? no need to be quiet. who’s gonna hear? the guards?” you could feel his breath against your neck, “is chan on duty? is he right outside the door? let him hear you.”

you could only whine in response as he toyed with your clit.

you made a sound of annoyance when he pulled his hand from your panties, but your disappointment didn’t last for long. he pulled you to sit up so he could remove your night clothes, tossing them god knows where on the ground. he let out a deep groan as his eyes came on contact with your bare chest.

he brought his hands up to cup them, one in each hand.

“you’re gorgeous.”

he let one of his hands fall back to caressing the rest of your body and replaced it with his lips, taking your nipple into his mouth. despite his earlier demands not to try to silence yourself, a hand flew to your mouth as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan for how little stimulation you were getting.

he popped off your breast and licked a long stripe down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your underwear. he glanced up at you to make sure you were still on board before looking his fingers on them and pulling them down your legs. immediately, you tried to close your legs in embarrassment, but he easily held them open. 

he placed sloppy kisses to your neck as his fingers teased your entrance.

“has he ever seen you like this?”

“no.”

“you really expect me to believe that?”

“it’s true.” your words came out strangled as he slowly began to slide a finger into your heat. it was unusual and uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it, nearly screaming when he curled his finger and a line of pleasure shot through you.

he hummed, “i can tell you’re not lying, baby. no one is this sensitive if they’ve been fucking their royal guardsman behind their fiancé’s back.”

you whined as he added another finger, “haven’t- haven’t done this before.”

he hushed you, “i know, angel. you’re doing so well, just relax.”

you gripped tightly onto his shirt as he continued to work his fingers inside of you. with a particularly rough curl of his fingers, you felt something inside of you let go and a wave of pleasure flowed over your body. you let out the most heavenly sounds as minho worked your through your orgasm and he felt a swell of pride knowing that he was the only one who had ever made you feel so good. he was the only one who would ever make you feel this way.

he rode you through your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. you tugged are the bottom of his shirt.

“are you sure, baby?”

you nodded, far too worked up to let out coherent words. he complied, slipping his shirt over his shoulders and ridding himself of his pants. you stared at his chest, reaching out to touch his skin before you even realized you were doing it. you slid your hand down his body until you came in contact with his hard length. he hissed as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking him. you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his cock as you basked in the sounds he made. the sounds you made him make.

he reached down and grabbed your wrist, “baby, i won’t last much longer if you keep this up.”

you nodded, reluctantly letting him guide your hand away from his length. you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your fingers in his hair as you felt him like himself up with your entrance.

the noise you let out when he began to sink into you could only be described as divine. minho had to stop for a moment and recollect himself, he really wouldn’t last long if you sounded like that at every move he made.

after a few moments, he was fully buried inside of you. he waited for you to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out, only to roughly slam back into you.

he had every intention of going slow and being gentle for your first time, but everything, from the way your pussy felt wrapped around him to the way you moaned out his name was too much for him.

despite his previous remark for you to let yourself be loud, he guided your face to his shoulder when he became genuinely concerned you may wake the entire castle.

“bite down.”

you did as he said, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the junction between his shoulder and neck. he let out a sound that made you think for a moment that you’d bitten too hard, but when you released your grip he groaned out, asking you to do it again.

he brought his hand between your bodies and began running slow circles onto your clit as his cock worked magic inside of you.

“im close. gonna fill you up, is that okay?”

you barely managed to get out a yes through the pleasure you were feeling. 

“fuck, gonna let me fuck my babies into you, huh?”

he adjusted your legs and the new angle plus his fingers working expertly on your clit threw you over the edge. 

“you’re going to be a great mother one day.”

you bit down hard on his shoulder as you came, only releasing the grip to tell him how good he was making you feel.

he came soon after, muttering praises and gushing about how good you did. he groaned as he gave a last few thrusts, watching as his and your cum leaked out with every thrust of his hips. the sight nearly made him hard again.

he pulled out, grabbing his discarded night shirt and wiping his length off before tossing it to the side again. he leaned back over you, connecting his lips to yours to swallow the whine you let out when his fingers connected back to your core.

he collected the cum that had dripped out and spread itself along your thighs and onto the sheets, pushing it back into you with his fingers.

he hushed you as you whined from overstimulation, “i know baby, i know, but we don’t wanna waste any, do we?”

you shook your head.

“no, we don’t. that’s my good girl.”

he connected his lips back to yours, “you’ll look gorgeous with my baby in your belly.”

you were honestly too fucked out to process anything that was happening, just laying there and letting him do what he wanted. despite the discomfort the overstimulation brought, you couldn’t help but complain when he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on his night shirt and slipping your panties back onto you.

needless to say, you slept easily after that.

you were beyond sore the next morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. the achy legs and raw throat were worth it.

you hurried to get dressed and shower off the sweat and other substances on your body the next morning before hurrying down for breakfast. minho had showered with you, insisting that since he made the mess, he should clean it up.

although your parents had already been confident that you’d changed your mind about the wedding, if anyone had doubts, including yourself, they were long gone.

a drastic change from even just the day before, you and minho stole kisses nearly any time you could. leaning over to grab the salt? kiss. walking past him to grab a book? kiss. sitting down waiting for more orders on how to help prepare for the wedding that was only a day away? kiss, kiss, kiss.

you’d been so caught up in your newfound love for kissing your fiancé that you didn’t even notice as chan snuck up to talk to you.

instinctively, minho’s arm tightened around your waist. he believed you when you promised him that you and chan were just friends, but he was still protective.

“so... hyunjin tells me i was right.”

you frowned in confusion, “what?”

“hyunjin said i was right. he had guard duty outside of your room last night and he told me you really warmed up to minho overnight.”

you nearly choked on your own spit at the realization that not only had your guards, your friends, heard last nights events, by the sound of it, they’d told everyone else.

minho didn’t even try to his hide proud smile has you blushed, covering your face in his chest.

chan turned to minho, “i knew she’d fall for you eventually. she used to gush about how cute you were when we were kids.”

you opened your mouth to protest, “that is not true.”

it really wasn’t. maybe you’d mentioned that he was easier to be around than many of the other royal, stuck up kids, but you had never said anything close to what chan claimed.

chan turned to minho, nodding his head as he scratched his nose, “it’s totally true.”

“it’s literally just not.”

he made a sound of disagreement.

“that is a big fat lie and you know it!”

you reached out to hit him and he dodged it, making a scene out of saying felix called him before hurrying away. you turned to minho.

“it’s not true.”

he shrugged, “it’s probably true.”

“it’s not!”

when you walked down the isle, minho could have swore his heart stopped. you looked gorgeous. the dress framed you perfectly and the delicate flower crown placed on your head looked just on you. he made a mental note to compliment whoever had planned your full outfit.

the closer you got, the more minho worried that your vows would be droned out by the sound of his heart beating against his rib cage.

you finally stepped in front of him, letting him get a clear view of you in your dress for the first time. you weren’t much better, speechless as you took in how handsome he looked. your felt your eyes began to well up at the realization of what was happening. who would have known you’d be crying from happiness, not disappointment or fear?

your eyes met minho’s own glassy ones and you let out a small laugh, speaking so only he could hear.

“i was right when i said you’d look hot in purple.”

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  10.3: The FINAL Chapter!

Author’s Note: IM SO SORRY IM A DAY LATE I ENDED UP BEING BUSIER THAN EXPECTED AND HAD TROUBLE WRITING BUT HERE IT IS!!!! THANK YOU FOR READING! Be sure to stick around for Inception(Childexreader) ;)

"Xiao! Come here real quick!"  

The yaksha glanced your way but didn't bother to get up since you were the one approaching him.  It took a moment to register that your hands were entangled in his hair, placing something in it.  Your smile was unusually bright today--so much so that it was blinding.  Not that he minded though; you've been through a lot these past few months.  Maybe this was the happiest you've been in awhile.

"I knew it," you beamed as you admired the flower crown atop his head, "You look so cute!"

"C...Cute?"  His gaze flicked away from you for a moment while the tips of his ears reddened. "I-"

"Oh, take the compliment already.  We've been together for awhile now.  You don't need to be so shy around me."  You let yourself fall back onto the grass that was shaded by a large orange tree.  Is it a gingko?  I need to ask Aether next time he comes in here, your mind trailed.

"I..."  Xiao returned his attention to you and lay down next to you, careful not to invade personal space and always leaving an inch or two of space between the two of you.  He let his hands lay on his abdomen until he jumped a little from you scooting over without a word.  When he looked at you, he was greeted by a cheeky smile.

"I know you're not used to this type of thing called affection, but I can tell you don't mind it."

"Hmph.  You've gotten smarter."

"Hey, I told you I'm not a stupid human!"

"You're beginning to sound like Aether's companion."

"Okay, there is a huge difference between emergency food and a stupid human."

"So you admit it?"

"Ugh, keep this up and I'll have no choice but to put more flowers in your hair."

"Do you dishonor every adeptus you come across?"

"Well, you're the only adeptus I've met besides Rex--Er, Zhongli!"  The filtered sunlight peeking through the leaves above blinded you when you broke eye contact with Xiao, so instead you propped yourself on your side and admired the view behind him.

Aether's Serenitea Pot was massive.  It had to span a mile or two in every direction, and the entire territory sat upon five tall cliffs that were connected via wooden bridges and held flowing waterfalls.  The weather was always pleasant day-round.  There were several pets outside of the main house on the main cliff that you had befriended, while Xiao seemed to connect the most with one of the gray tabby cats near the entrance.  You had caught them sitting quietly together on several occasions.

"Granny would've loved this place," you sigh.

"I shall go with you to visit her grave."  He didn't look at you as he said this, but the sincerity of his words rang as clear as the sky above.  "...She'd be happy to know you're safe."

"All thanks to you."  Despite originally admiring the scenery, your eyes had drifted downward and landed on his stomach.  Both of you were fully healed by now because of Bennett, and neither of you had any lasting effects from your battles minus the required resting time.  Your side held a prominent scar both at your front and your back, but did Xiao even get scars?  He never revealed the answer--mostly because you were too embarrassed to ask--and thus leaving the idea to your imagination.

"I should probably check on the situation outside soon; it's been awhile since Aether updated us."  Xiao sat up and summoned his spear--he had mentioned a few times that it was difficult for him to relax here and needed to keep himself busy since a comfortable life is a foreign concept.

"Oh, right..."  Your gaze followed his figure as he rose to his feet.  Sensing your--what was it, disappointment?--Xiao turned to you and removed his flower crown before gently placing it atop your head.  That action was followed by a faint smile, then his lips lightly pecked the tip of your nose.

"I shouldn't be long."

"You two love birds have made quite the nest here!  I've gotta say, Aether's got great taste."  A familiar voice caught both of you off your guard and Xiao's stance became aggressively defensive in an instant.  You and Xiao were supposed to be the only ones in the teapot at the moment, and even then, those who did occasionally stay in here didn't greet you like this.  The person that voice belonged to wasn't welcome--or at least, belonged to a presumably-dead man--regardless of that savior act he pulled in Snezhnaya.

"Childe?"  More shocked than afraid, you too rose to your feet.  "What're you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?  I came here because I had something to say."  The harbinger was as carefree as ever, but as he walked towards you a slight limp became noticeable in his steps.  He was hiding an injury, but was it from Scaramouche or from Aether?

"What did you do to Aether?"  Xiao's voice was as low as a growl as he raised his spear higher.  He stood slightly ahead of you to ensure your safety since you no longer had a vision and couldn't use those mysterious anemo powers ever since the rescue.  And knowing you and your idiotic tendencies, he had to make sure you didn't do something stupid like try to fight Childe if provoked.

"Haha!  Relax!  Aether and Mr. Zhongli are doing just fine; in fact, they allowed me to enter!"  Childe hid a wince when he stopped walking, but noticed the flicker of recognition in your eyes.  His lips curled upward with flattery.   "Don't worry, ojou-chan.  A little scuff isn't going to take me out."

"I-I wasn't worrying about you."

He seemed unconvinced but faced Xiao again anyway.  "You'd be pleased to know that both Aether and Zhongli let me in on their own accord--no manipulation from me whatsoever."  The fact that he had to clarify that! "Why don't we chat over lunch?  I'll cook.  Show me to the kitchen, girlie?"

.............

To say that you and Xiao were staring was a bit of an understatement.  Here you were, both sitting at the dining table in the main hall of Aether's adeptal house watching Childe cook up a meal fit for a large family while expertly navigating the kitchen like it was his own.  And when he served you, the delicious aroma that wafted into your nose was nothing short of enticing.  You and Xiao withheld your utensils--one out of weariness, and the other because it's not almond tofu.

"What?"  Childe let out a slight chuckle as he took his seat and dug into his plate.  You have no idea how thankful he was that there were forks in the drawers instead of chopsticks.  "Oh, perhaps you two already ate before my arrival?  More for me then I suppose."  

"Um, so why are you here?"

"I figured I'd give you an update regarding our little situation outside."

"'Little?'"  Xiao couldn't contain his scoff.  He hadn't dismissed his weapon either, and it levitated beside his seat.

"Seems like the quiet life hasn't changed you one bit, yaksha."  The harbinger stopped stuffing his face and set his fork aside to look at you.  "Regarding what happened with Scaramouche, I think it's safe to say I won."

"If it weren't for you coming here today, I would've assumed your untimely demise."  Ignoring Xiao's look of disapproval, you reached for your utensils and started to eat.  Both of you hadn't taken your eyes off of the harbinger as he cooked, so the chances that he may have tampered with the ingredients were low.  Plus it'd be out of his character to go about eliminating enemies like that.  "I'm grateful that you saved my life, but don't think for a second that that makes up for everything you've done to us."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare.  I know I've been aggressive for lack of a better term, but I'd like you to know that I'm only like that when it comes to my duties as one of the eleven harbingers.  Aside from that, I'm happy to call you a comrade just as I view Aether and Zhongli."

"Woah woah woah," you nearly choked.  "I'm certainly not going to start viewing you as a friend now."  

Childe simply laughed at your objection.  "Think what you may, but I do respect you and the rest of Aether's party.  As for my motherland and it's affairs, I think you'd be happy to know that the Tsaritsa has stopped her pursuit of you and Xiao.  She's not exactly appreciative of you wrecking the palace and would like to avoid any further destruction that can hamper her current plans."

"That's all it took for her to leave us alone?  You must be joking."  The archon had spent so much time and resources on hunting and imprisoning you--the idea of her giving up just like that had to be unrealistic, right?  And the fact that Xiao managed to bring the entire palace down...there's got to be some sort of bounty on your heads.

Childe met your gaze and held a level of sincerity equivalent to the time when he confessed his feelings and offered you a position among the harbingers on Dragonspine.  "Not in the slightest.  Regardless, you're free to lead carefree lives from now on.  Though if you'd like to rejoin the Fatui I'm sure I can pull some--"

"Nope.  I'm done with that."

"Ha! Very well then."  Childe resumed eating with an amused grin on his face, but Xiao wasn't satisfied with this conversation yet.

"You've given us no reason to trust your words."  His stare was hard and calculating as he tried to decipher any hidden motives behind Childe's friendliness.  It wouldn't be unusual for this to be some kind of trick.  In fact, he expected that there'd be some sort of catch.

The harbinger sent a brief glance Xiao's way before guiding another forkful of food into his mouth and shrugging.  "...Like I said, think what you may.  I don't care if you two choose to live in this realm or in Teyvat with the rest of us.  But then again it must be incredibly boring for a guardian yaksha to be lounging around in this domestic place.  I know I'd be driven mad if I had to live in such a quiet place for so long."

Xiao didn't flinch or give any indication that he was right, but your eyes briefly flicked his way.  It was uncomfortable for him to be 'relaxing' here with nothing to do.  It wasn't surprising that he'd be yearning to go out and uphold his contract with Rex Lapis again.

............

"Childe, wait."  Your hand gripped his forearm rather aggressively as he reached for the door handle to take his leave.  Xiao had heard a disturbance outside and went to check on the realm just in case, so it was only the two of you inside the mansion.

"What is it, ojou-chan?  Miss me already?"

"Yeah right."  As he turned to face you, your grip lightened until you let go.  He hadn't called you 'Mezzetin' once since he got here, only referring to you with this nickname like old times...Childe raised a confused brow.  "Why?"

"...Why?  Why what?"

"Why did you save me?  You could've just let Scaramouche kill me back there.  So...why did you risk your life to save mine when you didn't care less when I was tortured?"  Your stance was firm as you faced him head-on.  "I need to know."

"Ah," Childe awkwardly scratched the back of his head, "that."  Some sort of conflict flickered in those blue eyes of his as he formulated an answer he didn't quite know himself.  "Like I said earlier ojou-chan, I've always seen you as a com--no.  As a friend.  Just as Zhongli and I converse despite the Osial controversy, I see you in the same light despite my loyalty to the Tsaritsa."

"That doesn't answer my question, though.  You had several opportunities to stop what was happening, and it was only then when you decided to step in.  So why then?  What changed your mind?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit, Tartaglia.  There's got to be strings attached to this, right?  You expect something in return from me? Just get on with it already and tell me."

"I doubt you'd be satisfied with my answer regardless," he muttered mostly to himself.  "I may be kind of a bad guy, but I'm not completely heartless."  He observed the stumped expression that sat on your face as the gears turned in your head.  Then, he turned to the door again.  "When you're ready, you should join Mr. Zhongli and I for drinks sometime.  Farewell, girlie."  He was gone.

Despite the deep-rooted grudge you held against the harbinger now, you couldn't help but still hold some sense of familiarity or gratitude for him.  You might just take on that offer if only to purposely antagonize him at the dinner table.

......

"Xiao, how did you get your tattoo?" The two of you were sitting beneath another one of the many trees native to Liyue in the adeptal realm, still waiting for news regarding your return to the mortal realm.  Several days have passed since Childe paid you a visit, and Zhongli and Aether still had yet to check in on the two of you.  To keep Xiao occupied and keep him from worrying, you'd ask him questions.  "I don't have any of your memories of it."

Despite his memories being shared with you due to your bond, the further back in time they're from, the blurrier they got.  The oldest memory you could 'remember' dealt with the god that enslaved him, and even then, there was no mention of the mysterious green markings that sat on his arm.

"I've always had these markings," he answered gruffly.  He had sat up a moment prior with the intent to exit the teapot out of concern for your companions, but your random question caught him off guard.  His amber eyes narrowed cynically when your fingers traced them.

"Do they have a special meaning?"

"'Meaning?'"  His gaze averted for a moment as he decided whether or not to indulge such a topic.  But your eyes were so full of life as you traced his arm, and your touch was so warm...  "They represent my true form."

"True form?"  You tilted your head and attempted to picture whatever the heck he would be, but all you saw were a bunch of random shapes.  The other adepti in Liyue are shaped like deer and cranes, but what the heck was this mosaic supposed to be picturing?  "And, uh, what would that be?"

Xiao let out a tiresome sigh and realized he may have made a mistake in answering these questions.  Now that he had told you, you weren't going to stop asking until you got to see for yourself.  He never uses his true form; very few had ever seen it and those who have have already passed.  Zhongli had only ever seen it once.

Seeing his apparent concern made you raise a brow.  "No way.  Don't tell me your true form is a bug or something!"

"Tch.  Is that really what came to mind?"  Xiao shot you a glare before standing.  He was planning on walking away and ending the conversation, but your silent pleading made him reconsider almost instantly.  We are alone, he thought.  Perhaps I could show her once.  "Fine," he grumbled.  "Close your eyes."

You obeyed.  He didn't exactly say 'no' when you asked if he'd be a bug.  He wasn't going to appear as such...right?  Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the anticipation.  And just as your excitement grew, so did the winds that brushed past you.  Even the leaves in the tree above were shaking violently. Then, everything stilled.  Something soft brushed your fingertips, which were resting on your knees.  It was a cue.

"Hm?"  Xiao was no longer standing over you.  Instead stood a majestic bird with blue and green feathers that shimmered like glitter in the sunlight that filtered through the tree branches. "You're--!"

"--a bird," he finished.  He didn't say anything for a moment and allowed you to take it all in, seemingly shy or even embarrassed as you instantly reached out to touch him.

The blush that rushed to your cheeks was ignored by the both of you while your fingers grazed over the feathers that stuck up from the top of his head. He was beautiful; as breathtaking as a peacock, even.  Your fingers trailed down the back of his long neck, earning a rise of feathers as Xiao contemplated your movements.  His feathers were softer than the finest textiles in Liyue! And the tail feathers he had must've been as long as you are tall.  They glowed a light blue that's similar to the eyes of his mask.

"So beautiful," you whispered in adoration.  Xiao shifted his wait to his other foot.  "Thank you for showing me."  The fact that he did showed how much trust he placed in you--

The sound of a twig snapping scared the crap out of both of you--so much so that Xiao immediately transformed back into his mortal self.  Since he was so close to you though, it looked like he was sitting on you from the front angle.

"Hey guys! Sorry it took so long to check in--" Aether nearly stumbled when he approached you.  "Um...am I interrupting?"

"No!"

"The Vigilant Yaksha is BLUSHING?!"  Paimon squealed so loud that the three of you scowled.  "And what's with that sitting position?! You--"

"Paimon!" Aether swatted at his companion before she could say something that angered the yaksha.  "We came here for a reason!"

"Hey! Paimon is NOT a fly!"

"It's confirmed to be safe now.  You two can come home!"

"Wait, really?"  The two of you stood up.  "Are you sure?"

"Yep! There's no issue with the Fatui anymore.  Everyone's backed off.  We'll see you at the Pavilion for dinner to celebrate, okay? Don't be late!"  The two partners exited the realm in a flash.

"Ready?"  Xiao turned to you.

"Right now?! It's so sudd--"

"You don't have any belongings here anyways."  The statement cracked a smile on both faces.  "Let's go."  He reached to tap the symbol on his hand.

Your hand grabbed his.  "Wait!  Let me see you a little longer."  He was confused to say the least, but you didn't bother explaining how gorgeous he looked in the light right now.  Those amber eyes mirrored your own--though perhaps it'd be more accurate to say the opposite.  This is the last chapter of the crazy 'adventure' and the dangerous waltz with the Tsaritsa.  In just moments you'd be back in reality, return to Liyue Harbor, return to your Granny's grave, and he would return to his duty of protecting Liyue.  One more moment in this peaceful environment is all you need to admire him before life got hectic again.

Now your new adventure will be permanently at Xiao's side for however long your lifespan is: training with him, supporting him at his darkest moments, and loving him.  No matter what Teyvat brings next, you'll be able to take it on head-first despite lacking a vision and at his side.  You'll both thrive, not just survive.  And as you peered into his eyes, you could tell he felt the same.  "Okay," you nod.  "I'm ready."