#i wish i could have explored the idea of his palace more

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Things I Wish I Got To Say~

(Reader is GN, I tried hard not to give a lot of descriptions. This is cathartic writing. I usually write really positive, cute stuff that is a little steamy and romantic. This, however, is just Agnst. This is to release some emotions in me for a long time. I hope you guys will appreciate it as much as I do, and if not, I totally understand. The idea came from a tiktok I watched a few days ago where a man taught his wife how to dance for their wedding day, but she sadly passed before they could have their dance. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy it.) P.S. I would not oppose writing a happier ending if you like this. I know how much we all love those. TW: DEATH, Angst, Executions, Depression, Hurt

Alastors POV

I thought nothing of it the day I first saw you; You were just another person wasting my time in this infernal hellscape. Yet, had I known that you would have wormed your way into my undead heart over time, I wouldn’t have even allowed myself to set eyes on you in the first place.

The day I first met you, I thought you were kind and reserved, yet like everyone else in my life, I saw you as a pawn who could help me achieve my ultimate goal. Had I known that your voice would bring me such peace, I would have never introduced myself so formally to you.

The day I spoke to you on a deeper level than pleasantries for the first time, I was amazed at how well you kept up with my humor and quips. It was a fantastic feeling to hear and see for the first time since my mama had passed. Yet, had I known you would have given me these feelings, I would have never sat at the bar that night.

When I realized the need to be by your side grew day in and day out as you flourished in the hotel, I was taken aback. I had never experienced such emotions as this, and at first, I saw it as a weakness, but instead, you were my greatest strength. However, if I had known this would be the turn of events that happened, I would have never asked you to dance that night and confess my feelings.

I remember it like yesterday when you walked into the hotel. Not too long after my arrival and fight with Vaggie, you appeared chipper and eager to learn more about the princess of hell. However, you didn’t stay long, seeing as you had people you still had to protect. How foolish to safeguard people in hell. It was the most dangerous and deranged place to exist, and you had to protect people.

Days and weeks went by, and as we gained more notoriety, you kept coming back, helping in small ways. One particular day after I had battled with Vox, you came running in, smiling so wide, congratulating the hotel on the amazing victory. There was no real battle, just wits and quips between two old friends turned rivals, but you made it seem like I had slayed Lucifer himself. 

When I introduced myself to you after Charlie eagerly pulled me in, I couldn’t tell the feeling that I had in my chest. Your smile radiated heat from it onto my face, and I was astounded at how powerful you didn’t know you could be. With a bow at my waist and a kiss on your hand, I grew your smile even more, and the cutest color of red dusted your cheeks.

You left again that day, saying you had things to attend to but would be back soon. Soon—what a funny word people use to describe time. It could mean tomorrow or months from now. Yet you showed back up like clockwork the next day.

You made quick friends with the hotel staff, your permanent palace being made not too long after Pentious joined us. You found solace at the bar most nights, talking to Angel and Husk. How you enjoyed their conversions was beyond me, but your light laugh and gentle smile lit something in me. That’s when the day came that you had no one to sit with.

Taking this opportunity to explore this uncharted territory, I sat there with you and spoke to you truly for the first time ever. We talked about everything and nothing, the strangest of things occurring, and I felt like I could go hours without leaving your presence. Yet as your eyes drew closed from exhaustion, I couldn’t help the pride that washed over me that you chose to talk so long that you fell asleep with me.

I gently took you to your room, placed you in bed, and gave you a gentle kiss on the head. I was shocked. I had never done something so childish and unclean before, yet I felt the need to give you more. I was going insane with these feelings, which overran my mind. So, I sought solace in the best person I knew to help the situation. 

On my trip to Rosie’s, I heard a beautiful tune that reminded me of you, a sweet melodic vibe that sounded sweet to dance to, too. I let myself wonder how it would feel to dance by your side, swinging you through the night and getting lost in the songs that came from the radio. That was something that always amused me. You enjoyed the radio ever since I explained my distaste for TV. Could it be that you had the same strange feelings that I had?

At Rosie’s, I poured my heart and soul out to my dearest friend: “I don’t know what to think anymore. I am going crazy around them. Every time they smile or talk, I want to be there to bask in it. How could someone as strong and powerful as me succumb to someone so small and less than me? No, they aren’t less than me. They are everything to me, but that is what scares me.”

In that omission, I had Rosie laughing. She had never thought the day would come when someone would take my fancy. I listened to all her words about love and romance, things I had heard of but never experienced once in my life. Then she asked the dreaded question to solidify this ‘Love’ I had for you: “If your momma was around, would you take them to her?”

Yes, yes, I would have in a heartbeat. You would have made her so proud and happy if I had you on my arm. In that instant, I knew I needed you to be the other half I was always missing—someone who was on my level in mind, body, and soul. 

As I trekked back to the hotel, I bought a new crimson suit and matching outfit to ask you out tonight. The shadows took your gifts to your room with a note asking you to join me in the ballroom at 8 o’clock. I waited eagerly for your arrival, ready to face this path of uncertainty as long as you were by my side.

As you made your way over to me, I must confess I was tongue-tied. I had no idea what to say or do, so I let the music guide me. You seemed to not know how to dance, but after a few encouraging words and some leading by me, you were a natural. We danced the night away; it was perfect, and a simple, slow song started to play as the night ended. 

Holding you close to me, my hands around your waist as yours clung to my neck, I felt at peace. You were my peace, and that excited me and scared me all at once. Then I let it out on accident in the least romantic way possible: “I think I am in love with you.”

You laughed gently, that laugh that cured my ailments and healed my soul—the laugh that made hell worth living in again. Your simple reply, “I know.” was all I needed to hear, as a simple laugh also left my lips.

We were inseparable from then on. You were always there in my radio tower, cheering me on with a simple ‘I love you’ on your lips—something I grew so fond of so quickly. I knew you would conquer the world with me if given the chance, yet I also knew I wanted nothing more than to protect you until my own dying breath. Over time, even your dancing skills rivaled my own, and I was eager to take you to Mimzy’s club after all this execution business was handled. I wish I got to.

Then the dreaded day came, the day that would end my unbeaten heart and relinquish me back to a cold, miserable hell—the day of the execution at the hotel led by none other than Adam himself. I begged you, pleaded with you to leave the hotel and hide elsewhere, but you were so strong and spirited that you wanted to stay and fight. How could I say no when blood was my favorite color, too?

How I wish I told you to stay back harder. Because as the dust settled and the rubble cleared, there lay your lifeless, cold body, a sword through your chest. I had never transformed as fast and violently as I had that day. While everyone mourned you and Pentious, I was mourning just you, the love I had always told myself I never needed. 

I was so devastated, red clouding my vision. I had killed and eaten half of the districts in Pentagram City when the others finally calmed me down enough. Lucifer tried everything he could to bring you back, but it was too late; we all knew it was too late. They showed me your cleaned-up body, and I lost a small fragment of my identity.

I held you so close to me and cried, really, honestly, at the love I had lost. 

What I would give to tell you the things I wish I got to say……

To: My Lost Love

From: Your Radio Demon

[ellieslaces]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

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[sweetteaanddragons]

The Great Gil-Galad Swap: Season Two Edition

In which Scion of Somebody, Probably!Gil-Galad and Rings of Power Gil-Galad swap places at the beginning of Season 2 of Rings of Power. SoS!Elrond has to deal with the fallout.

(Please note that I have only seen the first episode of season two. I don't care about spoilers, but don't expect this to be compliant with anything past that.)

(Or much within that, frankly, given the premise of this.)

A spin-off of ideas I first explored in posts here and here.

“The important thing,” Elrond said, “is that no one is dead.”

It was the first thing he had said after staring blankly at the fire for two hours, so Lauriel was inclined to count it as a victory.

“Well done,” he added, with so much weariness that Lauriel had to fight the urge to flinch.

It spoke poorly of the day that the best that could be said of it was that they had not had their fifth kinslaying during it.

It had seemed likely, for a moment, when Lauriel had been facing off against Gil-Galad’s soldiers with her knives, voice ringing with one of the fierce, sharp songs Prince Maglor had taught all his people, bristling with the fear it called down upon the enemy even as it called to its kin for aid.

Come, come, come, it had rung, come to the battle, come to shed blood, come for your kindred -

And they had come, taking up the cry themselves so that it rippled throughout the city, come with every weapon they had secreted and every weapon they could improvise, come racing through the halls of the palace, come clambering up the wall to throw themselves through Gil-Galad’s window, come, come, come -

Some from Doriathrim and Sirion had come to, from alarm instead of brotherhood, but one word from Elrond, and they could have brought at least half of them around.

But Elrond, being Elrond, had chosen his one word differently, of course. He had chosen, stop and stand down and of course, my king may detain me if he wishes and then one of Gil-Galad’s idiot guards had taken the opportunity of Elrond stepping forward to strike him on the head with the hilt of his sword -

It was an accomplishment, she admitted, that no one had died today.

Elrond looked a little better, she thought; he had stumbled through their escape from the city, mouth working but no sound releasing, blood trickling from his temple. His eyes were clear now, though, and his hands were steady as he pressed them together on his knees.

Around them, the rest of the camp had let loose a little of the tension propelling them all.

“What happened?” Anufin asked a little plaintively. He was perched on the very edge of a limb of one of the trees they had sung into providing better cover for their camp.

Lauriel shot him a glare and rather hoped he fell off it, but Elrond was gracious enough to answer.

“The king has accused me of theft,” he said blankly, “and ordered that I be detained. Things . . . escalated.”

Lauriel winced again. He had not looked at her when he had said that. He had not had to.

She was still not sure what else she could have done.

“I did not commit the theft,” Elrond added after a long moment.

“I didn’t think you did,” Lauriel assured him.

“I didn’t care if you did,” Farande offered from across the fire.

Neither assurance seemed to help.

“What did he think you had taken?” Anufin tried.

Elrond responded to that, at least. “Rings,” he said, sounding more bewildered than ever.

Around the fire, dozens of eyes collectively blinked.

“I don’t know which ones,” Elrond continued. “He has one from Finrod he values, but he was wearing it today; there’s his seal ring, I suppose, and it would explain his level of anger, but why would he think that I . . . ?” His voice wavered and trailed off miserably.

Lauriel knew going back and killing Gil-Galad would not actually make Elrond feel better.

She reminded herself of this firmly.

Logic: that was what they needed now.

“Exactly,” she said, leaping on Elrond’s last word before the pause could be too noticeable. “Why would he think it? If - say his seal ring - if it had gone missing, assuming it was stolen might be reasonable, but why would he suspect you?”

“And be sure enough of it to act,” Farande added. “He must have known what the move might cost him.”

“Someone could have planted the ring in Lord Elrond’s room?” someone from the far side of the fire suggested. Macilme, she determined after a moment; she had been half hidden in Thanduin's shadow.

It was a good thought. But: “Someone still would have had to report it,” Lauriel pointed out grimly. “Someone with a reason to be in his rooms.”

Farande’s hand lovingly caressed the hilt of her knife. Lauriel wondered if it was the same one that she’d used the last time one of their own had turned traitor.

Of course, it might not have been one of their own; Elrond was a gracious host and a popular one, and there were a host of servants and, try as she might, Lauriel couldn’t vouch for the loyalty of all of them.

“Still,” Anufin said hesitantly. “To move straight to arrest . . . “

It seemed very ill planned, Lauriel conceded. To try such a thing with only two soldiers; to try it at all without first attempting to hear Elrond’s side of the story; to assume the worst of Elrond in the first place, regardless of planted proof - it did not seem like Gil-Galad.

“Perhaps,” she said slowly, “perhaps it was not a matter of proof at all. Perhaps something has ensnared his will.”

Or, of course, someone.

Elrond’s head jerked up, half hope, half horror. “It would not be an easy thing,” he said. “The king’s will is strong.”

She conceded with a nod.

Yet it was a possibility, and they all knew it.

“So . . . we won’t be going to Eregion to raise allies for a fight quite yet, then?” Farande checked.

”Absolutely not - “ Elrond collected himself with a breath. “No. Under no circumstances are we fighting anyone. We will only be - investigating. As to whether the king requires aid or has been deceived or if I have - have merely lost his trust.”

Lauriel wished, very briefly but very badly, that Elrond was still just the son of her prince instead of her prince himself so that it might be appropriate for her to reach out and hold him close.

“If the first, I will attempt to assist him; if the second, I will endeavor to reveal the deception. If the third . . . If the third, I will surrender myself to his justice.”

There had been nods of acceptance around the fire at the first two objectives. There was a distinct pause at the third.

“Of course, my prince,” Lauriel said into the silence. “Whatever you think is best.”

He was, fortunately, distracted enough by her use of the forbidden title to ignore the silence from the rest.

(“Our princes told us to protect them until the world’s end,” Farande hisses to her once Elrond, half-elven and more vulnerable to the need to rest, has succumbed to sleep. “We cannot let him be arrested. If Gil-Galad has gone mad and truly thinks to try it - ")

(“Then he will have some sort of riding accident,” Lauriel interrupts. “Or hunting accident. Or boating accident. There are a great many accidents that may occur.”)

(Farande relaxes.)

(“But let us hope we will not need an accident,” Lauriel says. “Our prince has had enough of grief.”)

[haespoir]

me after you: ldh.

⨯ pairing: general!haechan x princess!reader

⨯ word count:  6.2k

⨯ genre: historical au, secret relationship

⨯ summary: being a royal means that you don't have the luxury of marrying for love. but when your younger sister is set to marry your childhood friend turned secret lover, you have to do something.

⨯ content: a lot of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of suicide, character death, open ending

⨯ playlist: fine, taeyeon / lucid dream, aespa / forgetting you, davichi / if it is you, jung seung hwan / how can i love the heartbreak you’re the only one i love, akmu

⨯ a/n: this comes after watching scarlet heart in one sitting. please be kind, this is the longest thing i've written in a while! feedback is always welcome ♡ . . .

You’re barely 10 years old when you first see him. You’re crouched behind a tree as you watch your brother Jaemin from a distance, an unfamiliar male by his side. You have no idea what they’re speaking about, but frankly, you don’t care much. You just want to know more about the male next to Jaemin. 

You've heard numerous stories of love at first sight. You’ve always believed that your first love would come and sweep you off your feet, that they would come in and whisk you away from the palace. But that’s not what he does. Instead, he fills your mind with fantasies, scenarios you only wish you could pursue with him. You imagine nights under the stars with him, being wrapped in his arms would be a dream come true. All this and you don’t even know his name. 

Suddenly, your muse for art is at its all-time high. You stray away from the usual flowers and bright colors. Dark colors make an appearance, and an unnamed male becomes the star of your paintings. It’s odd how someone you’ve never had a full conversation with occupies your mind. 

There’s this odd hunger that makes a home in your heart. Something that can never be calmed. At least not by you. Not by anyone but your mystery man. 

It’s not until a few weeks later that you get a name to match the face. Lee Donghyuck, the son of Grand General Lee. You know right away that he is destined to do nothing but good in his life. A man who can save countless countries in your eyes. 

You finally formally exchange names with him. It’s a wonder really, the way just a few words have you flying on cloud nine. “Lee Donghyuck,” he had said, voice sweeter than honey. It was sad how quickly you became smitten. 

But it seems you are not the only one because it doesn’t take long for the two of you to click. You’ve got a routine going, a secret shared amongst yourselves. Late nights turn into adventures, hand in hand the two of you explore everything the night skies have to offer. 

Looking into the eyes of Donghyuck you swear that he holds your whole universe there. He is limitless. The stars are not confined to just his eyes; they float in his voice when he whispers sweet words to you, and they dance along from his skin to yours when you touch. They surround him with this celestial warmth that is blinding to you. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize it, but you’ve fallen in love with Lee Donghyuck, desperately in love; it stays that way for years to come. 

And then the letters are sent out.

. . .

You are invited to the royal wedding...

Your attendance is requested at the wedding celebration of PRINCESS YI MIYOUNG and GENERAL LEE DONGHYUCK on the evening of Saturday, the 5th of January in the year of 1540 of King Jaehyun’s rule. 

The celebration will be held in the estate gifted to the prince consort and the princess after the formal wedding ceremony in the royal palace. Guests are required to bring forth a gift that will be presented to the bride and groom as well as the original invitation, which is to be presented on entrance. This invitation is extended to the immediate members of the recipient’s household.

His Majesty, King Jaehyun

Father of the bride.

. . .

Anger is a foreign emotion to you. But soon, you’ll find it’s your best friend. 

The date of the wedding weighs down on your soul. It crushes any hope that you have. Like a harsh wind, it blows out the flickering light of hope you have, and it leaves you covered in a darkness that you are unfamiliar with. Sorrow courses through your veins, but its presence is barely acknowledged. There’s something else there that takes control.

Anger.

It clouds your senses until it's all you see. A white flash of rage. A single swipe of your arm leaves your tea cups broken on the floor. Tears of anger slip down your face, but it makes things worse. You’re weak, so weak. And you’re an emotional mess. 

You wish you could be angry at your father for allowing it to happen. At Donghyuck for making empty promises, or even Miyoung, for just being Miyoung. But you can’t. It’s impossible. Your anger is directed at one person only– yourself. 

You hate yourself. It becomes a cycle of self-loathing. You’re unable to be angry at anyone but yourself. You are too careless with your heart. How could you have been so foolish? You know better than anyone else that there’s no room for love when it comes to the royal family. 

You rip the decorative accessories from your hair and throw them with all the strength you can muster. Even so, they don’t make it far. They land in front of an unfinished painting, the image haunting you. A painting meant for Donghyuck. How could you bring yourself to finish it now? 

A piece of glass catches your attention. How easy would it be to end your suffering? A simple cut would be enough, would it not? You could be free of all the politics, free of the pain. The glass feels heavy in your hand and suddenly, you are weighing out your life options.

But the more you think about it, the more your anger manifests. How could you allow someone to have so much control over your life? You’ve given your heart away so easily, and you aren't sure if you’ll ever get it back. 

Without realizing it, your grip on the shard of glass tightens and soon you’re drawing blood. But with your emotions running so wild, you don't even feel the pain. Scarlet tears stain your clothing, but you don't mind. Not now. 

You’re tired, tired of being walked all over. You’re tired of not having a say in your life. But– at the same time– you’ve lost all care. Bitterness seeps into your heart, and you feel like giving up.

However, you refuse to be weak this time around. You’ve been kicked into the dirt once again, but you won’t allow yourself to be buried. You will grow this time, and this time with more resilience than before. 

You watch as another drop of blood falls from your hand. This time, you’ll care only for yourself. This time, you will only care for your own happiness. You’ll face everyone with a fake smile. You’ll congratulate the married couple. And you won’t reveal your sorrow.

. . .

It feels as if a weight has been lifted off Donghyuck’s chest. There had been a few hiccups, but he had survived greeting his future wife. It’s not like he really wanted to, but he knew he had a role to fill. Miyoung wasn’t at fault; it wasn’t as if she had approached her father and begged to allow her to marry him. 

No, it should have been you to do that. 

But he also knew that you were not in the proper position to make those demands. He sighs softly; what a truly frustrating experience this was. The meetings with Miyoung and the King had been draining, but it was clear that they were to be married for political reasons only. After all, Donghyuck came from a family of generals who were completely loyal to the crown. 

As if the sky was reflecting his exhausted nature, the sun had begun to set. The light was slowly dying, a beautiful pink hue painted across the sky. You would have loved to see this sunset; it was one of your favorite activities, just chatting away under the disappearing sun. 

Had he been more aware, he would have heard you approach him. Standing in front of him was a princess, and he would argue that she was his favorite one. 

His surroundings seemed to be muted in comparison to you. There was nothing as vibrant as his lover, if he dared still call you that. Almost instantly, his heart clenches; it hammers within his chest like the war drums sounding his army’s march. It was almost as if his heart was echoing its intent for you. 

“Princess…” Donghyuck catches himself, addressing you with your proper title before an affectionate nickname can slip past his lips. “I hope you are well.” He bows with a foreign eagerness to place as much distance between the two of you as possible.

As he gazes at you, he begins to wonder if betraying the crown is worth it. If it meant he could hold you in his arms he believes he would forsake the entire country for you. That thought alone is terrifying, and it goes against everything his father has taught him. 

So with as much courage as he can, and it’s not a lot, he speaks again: “I bid you farewell.”

There’s an undeniable feeling that pools in your stomach as you look at him. It’s an ache that squeezes your heart so tightly it’s hard to breathe. There’s no one else that you would want to spend your life with, yet he is the same person who is forbidden to you. 

In your bandaged hand is a piece of fabric, one that holds the love and affection you have for the male in front of you. Intricate stars are laced through the dark fabric, representing the countless nights the two of you had spent together. So many sleepless nights spent on something for a man you could no longer love. A man you could no longer call your own. 

“Donghyuck,” you say, almost choking on the tears that you refuse to let fall. There's a feeling of happiness that blinds your senses when you see him, yet you can also feel your heart break at his cautious nature. How could the affection that once laced his words be completely gone? The words that left his mouth felt foreign, and they left you feeling bitter. 

“Please accept this,” you whisper, nearly begging. You barely manage to grip his sleeve; it seems he is in a rush to leave you. That idea only has your heart hurting even more. Your nights amongst the stars seem so distant now. He seems so distant now.

The way you said his name hurt. Even if he had scars covering his body from war, none would hurt as much as it did hearing you call his name out like that. He did not want to do this, it would be so easy to leave and run away, but when a princess begs, it is in your best interest to act in favor of the princess. 

Duty before self. Crown before duty. Country before the crown. These were words that he was taught since he was just a young boy. It was these same words that now haunt his every decision. Duty to the crown– the king had decreed his partner for life. There should be no space within his heart for you. Yet, you occupy all.

With trembling hands, his heart overriding the screams of protest in his head, he takes the star-laced fabric. Quickly, his eyes dart around, checking to see if the two of you were truly alone. Once that’s confirmed, he doesn’t hold back. Calloused hands cup the delicate face of a princess, your beauty clouded by the tears gathering in his eyes.

“What are you expecting?” He asks.

Maybe hours later, when he’s regained control of his emotions and he’s alone, he’d probably berate himself for giving into his weakness. However, right now, the crown be damned. It nearly broke his heart to see you hurting, especially when he loved you so dearly. All because you wanted him to accept a gift, which he’s sure is a parting gift. Even if he wants to deny it. He could be heartless in his duty to the crown, however, this was too much. “I’m already promised to Miyoung,” he says softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You know the king’s decision is final, and I cannot love you. We cannot be seen like this.”

“Leave me.” He whispers, watching as the tears that had pooled in your eyes begin to fall. “And forget me.”

“Forgive me,” he thinks to himself. 

It’s a concept that is foreign to you; the fact that his words hurt more than any physical wound- you’ve never felt anything like this. His words are like needles, and your heart is their resting place. 

Like always, Donghyuck is able to take your breath away. But this time he’s left you with no air, and no words as well. You don’t know what you had expected to become of the two of you– after all, Donghyuck was always someone who chose his country and the crown over anything. 

“I can't accept it,” you sob. And even if you tried, you don’t know how to. There's no one else in the palace who you love as much as you love Donghyuck. And it’s so difficult for you to come to terms with. 

“I can’t leave you, and I can’t forget you,” you recited as if it was a mantra that had been playing in your mind for days. And you had. Your thoughts had been consumed with Donghyuck since you had met him. 

Donghyuck, without much thought, presses his lips to yours. As if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as if he wishes to ease the pain of your breaking hurt. And it works, if only briefly. 

You relish the feeling of his lips against yours, a feeling you find yourself not knowing you missed. You never realized how hungry you were for Donghyuck until you got a taste. Like a drug, you’re not sure if you’re able to give him up. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, unable to let go of him. 

But no matter how selfish you wish to be, you can’t.

An internal conflict impossible for you to escape. You pull away from him quickly, tears spilling from your eyes freely now. How could you do this to Miyoung? How could the king do this to you?

Donghyuck had lost to his own weakness; he had lost to his own emotions. Everything always came back to you. Your lips were just as he remembered. You were an addiction to him as well, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to quit. 

He knew you. He knew the meaning of those tears; he could see the conflict brewing within your eyes.

“You're thinking about Miyoung, aren’t you?” He says softly, his hands moving to curl stray hair behind your ear. “You’re unable to betray your sister, as I am unable to betray the king.” 

He’s once again brushing your tears away with his fingers. “So much for being a general,” he bitterly thinks to himself. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to run away with him, but he has a family to think about. He has to think about his duty to the crown and to his family. Unknowingly, tears had also begun to fall from his eyes. “The moment the King announced our marriage it was over. What did you expect coming to see me here?”

His words are once again stabbing at your heart.

“Of course, I'm thinking about your wife,” you say, “My sister. Your wife. A person who gets to spend their nights in your arms.” It hurts even more as you speak, the words leaving your lips in soft breaths. It’s official, Lee Donghyuck has broken you.

The feeling of his fingers on your face brings back nostalgic memories. Instinctively, you lean into his touch. There is nothing that you wouldn’t give up for Donghyuck– you were just that in love with him. But you were just a princess– a princess willing to give up their title and life just for some general. And while you want to say that you’re unsure if Donghyuck would do the same, you know his loyalty to the crown is undying. And that is what tears your heart apart. 

“Do you know how difficult it is?” There are so many nights where you find that sleep doesn’t welcome you with open arms anymore. Instead, it turns its back to you, ignoring your pleas as you spend the night tossing and turning. 

It’s hard for you to speak; you’re choking on tears. You don't know what you expect from Donghyuck anymore. Your situation has become so complicated. It's hard for you to even comprehend. 

“I can't expect the same love I once received, I know I can't,” you say weakly, hating how difficult it was for you to speak. “But I do. Donghyuck– I crave it. I miss you so much.”

“To-be. Wife to-be. We’re not married yet.” He states bitterly, doing his best to draw the line distinctively. “She will not spend her nights with me. I have not touched her hand, her lips, or her.” 

It’s like daggers are embedding themselves into his heart with each word. He does his best to defend himself and calm your anxieties as he speaks. “I will sleep in my own study even if we are wed.”

“To be or is, what difference does it make? You are no longer mine Donghyuck– why can’t I grasp it?” you speak with anger towards yourself now, each word produces a new cloud of darkness in your heart, a feeling you’re becoming used to unfortunately. 

You’ve come to a full circle of blaming yourself. You’re the one to blame, had you not fallen for Donghyuck that fateful day, this wouldn’t be happening. Had you begged the king to allow you to wed Donghyuck instead of Miyoung, maybe you would have gotten your happy ending. 

But it’s too late for that now. Even the thought of Donghyuck spending a night with Miyoung pains you. Though you want nothing best for your siblings– if Donghyuck is Miyoung’s best, you might find yourself changing your mind.

“You are always the last thought that I have before I close my eyes. You were my very last thought when I thought I was on the verge of dying.” His words are earnest as he speaks. “You are the one that kept me strong on the way back home, back to you. I thought about your crying face and fought the reapers who had come to claim me.” 

Donghyuck’s hands drop to your waist as he pulls you into him, holding you close. “The love you’ve once received is still here.” He takes your hand and places it over his chest. “You will always be in my heart until the day I breathe my last breath.”

You grip the fabric that separates your hand and his heart. “You plague my every waking thought, Donghyuck. And even when I think I can be free of you– you appear again. Countless nights I prayed for your safety. I prayed for you to come back. To come back to me.” But that’s not the reality you get. Your father had rewarded the man you loved for winning the war by giving him your younger sister’s hand in marriage. How cruel.

“It is torture to give a man your heart and soul only for it to be rejected because the crown and country are placed higher than you,” you say, hitting his chest with your balled-up fist. “It is truly torture having to hide away from your family because you’re ashamed. Ashamed to face your sister for loving her soon-to-be husband. Ashamed at the fact that I couldn't even be vocal about how much I loved you– how much I do love you.”

You move to cup his cheeks, your thumbs caressing his face in ways that you can only hope to express how much affection you still hold for him. “What are we to do? What am I to do?”

Donghyuck swears this is like a dead game of go, several stones are already stuck. Defeat is imminent. Perhaps he is going soft and becoming vulnerable. He had heard this is what love does to a person. He had warned those who learned from him that placing too much focus on one objective would be their downfall. Yet here he is, doing everything in his power to keep you safe and by his side. 

Even if he meant betraying his loyalty. 

It would be simple; avoid the engagement and wedding as long as he could. Then, when your brother Jaemin takes the throne, he could annul the engagement. It would have to work; it was the only way. For this to work, the King must die.

He could do it in five years, maybe even four. An illness, or a coup. Something like that could work, right? The thought alone makes his heart race. Someone with an undying loyalty to the crown, thinking such treasonous thoughts.  

He looked at you, the love of his life. He could see the pain that flickered in your eyes. Were you worth committing high treason for? To go against the crown and country? To go against everything he had ever known?

The answer was blatantly yes. 

Would your love survive if he was the one to end the life of your father? Even if it was a perfect crime, would his own soul survive dealing with the guilt?

“I love you.” He whispered, pulling you into him once again. Donghyuck closed his eyes, willing away the demons forming in his mind. When someone you love more than life is in pain, it is a very simple decision to make on the spot. 

Donghyuck lies.

“It will all be fine,” he says. “I will find a way for us. Can you wait?”

One look into his eyes, and you know he’s planning something. You can hear the cogwheels turning in his brain. Like a true General, or to-be Grand General– you know he wastes no time in making plans. You know him too well, after all, he was once your Donghyuck. 

Being in his arms was where you belonged, where you would happily spend the rest of your days. But that was not so easy anymore. You could no longer hold the affection you once held for him. 

Logically, it’s not right. You know it’s not. It's your loyalty to your sister that reminds you of this every single day. Miyoung was a princess, and you would not allow your sister’s reputation to be tarnished. There were just some things that were above you. Anyone with a brain knows that this is not just some easy mistake to be fixed. 

But you have always followed your heart. 

So you allow yourself to fall into Donghyuck once more. “I love you as well,” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. You can hear his steady heartbeat as you place your head on his chest; it calms your aching soul. Donghyuck is your sun, your moon, and all your stars. You know that he is someone you’re willing to fight for. 

“I will wait for you until the end of time, you know that.” The words slip past your lips effortlessly, a white lie in its purest form. You know that Donghyuck will always be in your heart, but you also know how the world works. It works in cruel and unfortunate ways. 

A princess as soft-spoken as you will never get what you want. You are a pawn to others. You know soon enough that you will be married off– just as your sister was. And when the time comes, will you still be able to put Donghyuck above all else? 

“But are you able to wait for me?”

He leans away from you to look at your face, his hands not leaving your waist. “I fought death for you,” he thinks to himself, feeling his heart swell at the image of you. 

“Is this doubt I hear?” He gazes at you with false anger, a playful smirk decorating his features. “You dare doubt the hero, the Grand General Lee Donghyuck?”

“I will wait for you until the end of time,” He says, leaning in and stealing several small kisses between each word. You allow yourself to be showered in his love, and you enjoy the feeling wholeheartedly. You carve the feeling of his lips against your skin into your mind. You won’t ever allow yourself to forget it; you won’t allow yourself to forget your love. Separating himself from you, Donghyuck takes a step backward, his hands gently holding both of yours.

“I’m not good with words,” he begins, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But since I’ve already broken my own vow to stay away from you, I might as well speak freely now. I had prepared for months to say this, hoping that I would get to say it when I received your hand from the King.”

He takes a breath, his gaze meeting yours. 

“Once, as a young boy, my father told me to never stare at royalty. We should keep our heads bowed. And I took that to heart until you. How could I not look at the most beautiful person in the palace? For the first time in my life, I took a gamble. I asked Jaemin to introduce me to you. I was just his sparring partner then, and I thought I would have been executed for that.” 

Donghyuck thinks back to that day, smiling fondly at the reactions he remembered receiving from Jaemin. Why was his sparring partner interested in his sister? It hadn’t made sense to Jaemin then, and a part of Donghyuck almost wishes he never asked. 

“Jaemin introduced us, and when you smiled at me… I was never able to look away. If not for you, I don’t think I would have ever known a love so deeply in my life. I fell in love with you when I was ten, just a young boy,” he smiles, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m twenty-three now, and I’ve been loving you more and more each and every day since I was ten. I regret not a second of it.”

You know that your end is coming soon. 

But with every word, Donghyuck makes it so much harder for you to give him up. His words cause your mind to run; it runs to a place where the two of you are free to love each other.

However, that place is not here.

You two are but a small chapter in the novel of this country, a small insignificant chapter. And you realize that now.

Yet your heart still races at his words. You know that you are Donghyuck’s weakness. So it leaves you no choice but to be the strong one in your situation. 

“Every second I've spent with you, there is not a single regret that plagues them. You have given me the love I never knew I needed.” You raise your intertwined hands, placing a gentle on the back of his hand.

“And for that, I thank you. The first time I laid my eyes on you, I knew you would be more than just a man to me. I've given you my whole heart, and I can only hope you keep it safe.” Your words pain you. You know this is your goodbye, the last time you will ever see Donghyuck with these feelings of love dancing in your heart. 

So you press one last soft kiss against his lips before you speak again: “I should head back to my quarters, as should you. It's quite late. Be safe.” 

With these last words, you let go of your first love and quickly turn for your room. The farther you get, the more tears fall. You wonder if it’s really better this way.

. . .

It is a good thing that Donghyuck had not spoken of his treasonous thoughts to you because they fall through so quickly. 

The silence in the air becomes a newfound friend to you. Something you once detested before now brings you endless comfort. The day is coming sooner than you hoped. You must congratulate your sister. You must congratulate the love of your life, Lee Donghyuck, for getting married to your dear sister.

It hurts. It hurts like hell. There are so many things you wish you would have done differently. You wish that you didn’t meet Lee Donghyuck– that you never fell in love with him. You shouldn’t have given everything away so easily. Because now, you’ve become a fool, a pawn in this game of chess. All of you have.

You’ll be okay. It's a mantra that repeats in your head like a broken record. He's not worth it. Nobody should have control over your life like Donghyuck does. It’s time for you to let go. 

And so you try.

The moon supplies no light in the dark garden. Yet, you are there. Your canvas is set– Donghyuck’s unfinished painting there. The dark sky is displayed on the once white canvas, small stars littered sparsely amongst the space. Two figures bask in the glow provided by the white paint. Figures that were once Donghyuck and you have been completely remade into Donghyuck and Miyoung.

It ignites anger in your faint heart once again. But the healing scar on the palm of your hand reminds you to never take the anger out on yourself, never again.

So you take your anger out on the painting.

With a heavy grip, you stab your paintbrush into the canvas. Before your eyes, the painting becomes two pieces. Something you wish their marriage would become.

But it hurts you to even think these ill thoughts. You care for your sister so much. And you care for Donghyuck even more. Yet there’s this new evil that rests in your heart. Suddenly, becoming bitter seems easier than letting go. And it definitely looks more attractive with every second that passes.

It takes a few days of peaceful meditation, but you find yourself in the garden again. Your muse this time, a budding flower. A representation of the new relationship that will bud between the two. A representation of the new take on life you have.

The color blue stains your fingers. A color for freedom and peace. This painting is made with Donghyuck in mind. The words “I forgive you," are woven throughout the flower. And you only hope that Donghyuck is able to understand it.

The nights following your breakdown instilled a resolve that you could have never found yourself following. A path laced thoroughly with bitterness and hatred. A path completely unfamiliar to you. But it’s a path you will now call your own. For you have learned that those with a faint heart can’t survive. They won’t survive. And now you will do whatever it takes to survive.

You spend the night before the wedding in the garden again. It is foolish for you to hope that Donghyuck will arrive. You know that it is wishful thinking. As you walk the path engraved in the ground made by the two of you, you know it is the last time.

. . .

The morning brings signs of your new beginning. A new you. This is your chance at a new life. You will create a new path for yourself, a path you will now travel alone. You no longer need Donghyuck. All you need is yourself.

Your resilience is stronger than ever before. But you know that your weakness rests in your heart; you would be foolish to lie to yourself and say it doesn’t. You have always been someone who loves wholeheartedly. From a young age, you gave everything you had to offer to those you love. You had given your heart to Lee Donghyuck, and now you had to give him to your sister. 

You arrive at the wedding on time. But the happiness in the air has no effect on your mood. You’re sad and heartbroken– it’s inevitable. But you don't let it show. 

Sitting through the ceremony hurts. It’s expected, but you begin your healing process quickly. You lower your expectations for Donghyuck. You no longer expect anything from him. Not even a glance.

And so, your eyes stray from him. They only stay on Miyoung. Your heart hurts for the younger princess. You know that she wants nothing more than to not be married to Donghyuck. You know that someone else resides in the heart of your sister. Yet you hope she is able to find happiness. You don't wish for darkness to form in her sister’s heart.

. . .

“Your Highness, your sister comes bearing gifts.”

You stand tall, a soft smile on your lips. “For her highness, an embroidered scroll.” The scroll your maid hands over tells the tale of sorrow you feel for your younger sister. An arrangement of flowers decorates the fabric, a single daisy being the star of the show. A flower to represent hope and innocence. You pray that Miyoung is able to keep her hope throughout this marriage and that her innocence never fades.

“And a painting for you, General Lee.” The bitterness that dances on your tongue makes it hard for you to keep your composure, but you do your best. The blue carnation decorating the canvas is not something that you have ever laid your eyes upon. Rather something you have created for Donghyuck himself. The last thing you will ever create for him.

“I wish you both a prosperous marriage.'' Those are your final words as you bow. Your eyes avoid Donghyuck's as you leave, disappearing from his sight once the door is closed. You only wish that all involved can find happiness. For this is the last time you will allow yourself to be heartbroken like this. 

. . .

King Jaehyun gathers everyone’s attention with a clear voice that rings out clearly in the chilly night air. He motions to the tables set around a fire that blazes in the middle to warm the guests against a biting winter breeze. 

Daughters sit with fathers, quietly gazing away from the king out of politeness. Sons sit with their mothers, quiet and attentive, ready to hang upon the King’s every word.  Here marks the start of a toast: from a father wishing the best to his daughter in her married life, from a king looking proudly on his son in law who’s already achieved so much in such a short amount of time. There is a moment when the mantle of the king is laid down and instead, the wishes of a father ring out into the night.

It's obvious that the princess is unhappy sitting next to her now husband. It's obvious that her husband looks as if he wants to be anywhere else, beaten down already as he is by the rumors and the whispers about his wife and their marriage bed. 

The King can see it all clearly, but to them, he wishes them lifelong happiness. He hopes that in the end, they’ll find it. And he expects that they will. 

No one notices the looks that are shared slyly behind his back between certain members of the court. Everyone is far too interested in the married couple at the head of their table, seated close to the King. They’re far too invested in the King’s words, and the gleam of pride in his eyes when he looks over at the married couple as he is ready to put the cup to his lips. It’s a signal for everyone else to do the same, and so they do.  

It's a shame, really, that no one notices. This all could have been avoided if they had.

The toast ends with a sip of alcohol in the King’s presence, all members of the party turning away from him to drink from their cups. It doesn’t start right away– people put down their cups, and there’s once again a dull chatter that bubbles through the crowd. After all, no one is expecting a red wedding.

It takes a few minutes to settle in the system. Most poisons do. First, it’s the princess who coughs up blood, staining her hanbok a dark shade of crimson. That’s when the panic begins, her coughing not stopping; she continues to cough and bleed, unable to breathe from the poison that’s boiling hot in her system.

It's not just the princess though.

Several members of the court are clutching at their robes, heaving and clawing in fevered desperation to cling to their lives. The poison is fast acting. And it leaves the princess, the Minister of Defense, and a General as cold as the night air.

In the blink of an eye, two sons become the head of their family, forced to take on the mantle of their dead fathers. In the blink of an eye, a princess is stolen from the world. And in the blink of an eye, three families are torn apart and heartbroken. For a long moment, there’s silence. The King is pale. 

And then all you can hear is the wailing of the groom.

[sharkdream3421]

TOTK Ganondorf X Reader - Observant

Finished Tears of the Kingdom and I think that the game lacked character development for Ganondorf's character. Also cause this version of Ganondorf is attractive lol, but here's my take on him.

You were a traveler in Hyrule, it was only to be just that. You were interested in seeing the unique places all over hyrule. You've seen the Rito and they're ability to fly, the Gorons and how they can turn themselves into rock, then the Zora where they can swim underwater. The Gerudo? All you knew was that they were led by a man named Ganondorf, which was said a male Gerudo would be born every 100 years. People you've ran into on your travels have said that it is rare for a man to born in the Gerudo as it is mostly comprised of woman.

You've had a couple...questions to say the least. As to why this is the case, you had no idea. You knew that the Gerudo were tall people. The king of the Gerudo, Ganondorf was even taller. Probably the most tallest, human-looking man in Hyrule. Gerudo town was strange as they forbid any men from entering, but they let their king stay? Strange indeed.

You finally crossed the desert, rationing on chill shrooms to keep you from not dying by heat. You noticed two women stood guard. You nodded, and they nodded back for you to enter.

So, you did. You entered the town that was your last location to explore. Then their you saw him. In his robes with his upper torso being mostly revealed. Walking down the steps with his red hair tied in a bun was the king of the Gerudo himself. Ganondorf. All the Gerudo bowed, as he descended the steps. You could see him looking around until he spotted you.

You weren't sure if you should have bowed or if it wasn't necessary?

You felt intimated of his large size and presence. Then he smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was a smirk.

He slowly walked up to you with a face of disapproval. "Why are you not bowing before your king?"

"Oh sorry, I uhm am a traveler I'm not familiar with Gerudo culture." You say shyly.

"Hmm, perhaps you should learn our culture faster then. Then you would know that a Gerudo would bow before they're king," Ganondorf said with such spitefulness.

As Ganondorf continued to walk you decided that maybe he could teach you about Gerudo culture?

"Maybe you could teach me about your culture your majesty?" You said respectfully.

Ganondorf looked at you with uncertainty. "Why have you come here? Why are you asking a king about his culture? Surely our historians will give you the information you need."

"But surely you know more about your culture than the historians? I think it would be more interesting to hear your side of the story of the Gerudo." You replied back with nothing but a kind smile and respectfulness despite Ganondorf seemingly being a jerk to you.

Ganondorf gave you one long stare, before his face became one of a smirk. It could practically look like a witty, evil smirk.

"Very well. Come to my den at noon and I shall answer your questions traveler." Ganondorf then swung his garb as he turned around and left the city.

Perhaps he was going to the bazaar that was not far off from here? You didn't know, but you were interested in talking to him tomorrow at noon.

~~~~

You acended the steps of the Gerudo palace or den to say the least. You walked in the throne room to see Ganondorf sitting on top of a large throne. With nothing, but a look of seriousness.

Man he does look scary. The rumors weren't lying.

Ganondorf looks to his guards, "Leave us."

And just like that, the guards leave the room leaving you and the king of the Gerudo. Ganondorf looks down at you, making you feel small and innocent. Just another person who is trapped in his power of judgement.

"So, you wish to learn about the Gerudo?" He says casually, while seeming serious at the same time.

"Yes your honor, I was wondering what your backstory is like in the Gerudo. You don't get a king's story often." You say with a smile.

The smile doesn't affect Ganondorf though.

"Very well. I was born and raised from my father and mother to become the king of the Gerudo. I was under a curse when I was born, and would rather not talk about it. I learned combat, and how to fight with swords, spears, long swords, and more weapon variations. I like to consider myself as self-taught as I would learn the weapon techniques and make my own fighting style. Since only a male Gerudo was born every one-hundred years I was considered the king and leader of the Gerudo. I seek higher power in certain areas of hyrule."

You write all of this info down.

"Is that enough hylian?" Ganondorf asks.

You nod, "that's enough, but one more question?"

The king of thieves sighs heavily and then speaks, "Go ahead."

"Why do the Gerudo live in the desert?" I ask.

"The Gerudo prefer to live outside of hyrule. We believe we are more competent on our own than having to rely on hyrule's resources to live in the desert. We do get shipments from certain areas of hyrule, but those locations are only knowledgeable of me and higher ups." Ganondorf explains.

You jot all the notes down and bow to Ganondorf, "Thank you your honor."

Ganondorf closes his eyes and hums a goodbye as you leave the den.

Your at the corner of town thinking about all of what Ganondorf has said. You found it particularly strange that the king of thieves accepted to have an audience with you. A stranger, a traveler. You weren’t sure why he did, but none the less you got an interesting side of the story when it came to Gerudo’s culture and lifestyle and it was none other than Ganondorf himself. A rare feat that few have probably accomplished.

Either way, you were happy that you got your information, but something was off about this guy. He was known as an outsider in hyrule and a bad man. He wasn’t just called “The King of Thieves,” for nothing after all. He still hasn’t agreed to an audience with the king of hyrule, Rauru. He’s been rather distant by what you have heard. Maybe planning something?

You spent the rest of your afternoon playing with a small vai. She was bored and asked you to play with her, which you happily obliged.

“Traveler.”

You turn around to see Ganondorf standing behind you. You feel so small as this man practically makes you feel like a dwarf! You back away and itch your neck.

“Uhm yea? How may I help you?” You ask.

Ganondorf folds his hands behind his back in a rather respectful manner. “You are interesting, I never got the chance to know who you are.”

“Oh I’m (first name) (last name). It’s an honor to have interviewed you your majesty.”

Strangely out of character, Ganondorf dismisses your politeness.

“Their are no need for formalities. It feels as if we know each enough to not call each other names by royalty. You may use Ganondorf.”

You had so many questions about this man’s life. He was a lier, used deception to get what he wanted, and he was not to be trusted. You suddenly felt insecure.

“Why are you so nice to me all of a sudden? Your mostly known for being the king of thieves.” You ask.

Ganondorf frowns, “I do not have any friends. Mostly, because of my title. I am content in what I do. I see a matter of an opportunity for the both of us to gain something from each other.”

Your curiosity is now on peak.

Ganondorf notices this and chuckles, “I need more intel on the other kingdoms in Hyrule. Since your a traveler, you can get me information on they’re current situations. Report back to me and I will pay you handsomely for each report. Perhaps if we work well in this transaction. We might just become allies and maybe friends.”

This was a big ask coming from Ganondorf, but you didn’t have a job and you loved traveling. This offer was the best of both worlds though. How could you refuse it? More money, while traveling. Score!

“Alright you got yourself a deal,” you say as you shake Ganondorf’s hand.

While Ganondorf shakes your hand, a grin appears on his face. Just another step toward conquering hyrule, and maybe having a new friend along the way.

Masterlist

[neyafromfrance95]

i want to write haladriel fic but i have no ideas at all. got any suggestions?

this is very subjective, but here are some specific things i personally would love in my haladriel fics (i'm not including the hcs/aus that i love but that are already popular like the mind-palace):

galadriel's scars left by morgoth's crown being sensitive to sauron's touch and smtms even craving it bc only he can soothe the pain.

sauron loving to take care of galadriel's hair. washing/brushing/braiding it. playing with her locks whenever he is happy or nervous.

incorporate finrod more. we can't overstate his importance in trop!galadriel's story. he had shaped her wisdom and lightness, his loss has left a gaping hole in her heart. avenging *him* is her driving force. everyone goes "what about celeborn?" but the "third" *individual* between sauron and galadriel will always be finrod. it is *very* interesting that it seems halbrand filled the hole left by finrod's absence for galadriel. and how sauron used that...

don't soften galadriel's relentless opposition and fight against sauron. don't water down her hatred. for me, what makes their sexually-charged push-pull dynamic so much more interesting is that her hatred of sauron is so strong it's part of her identity, and then, it suddenly gets mixed up with her love for halbrand, her connection with halbrand being above everything else - what a jarring contrast! + knowing that her sworn foe loves her? so much existential and emotional angst. don't downplay this fascinating psychological aspect of galadriel's feelings in favor of "taming" her hatred *and* pride. and since u are asking for my opinion, here is my meta on galadriel's feelings for sauron.

don't water down her darkness either. even in the 3rd age she has it. yes, she is the lady of the light but not in a "saint" kind of way, rather in a powerful warrior/witch of the light kind of way. she is sauron's mirror and she has sent countless elves and numenoreans to their deaths bc of her belief in her divine destiny. she is a hero whose light is blinding, and she constantly battles her darkness but chooses the light and this is why she is the opposite of sauron.

one thing that defines galadriel the most, i'd say even more than her being the lady of the light, is that she wants to be a leader. we can think of galadriel as a warrior, a commander, a witch, a queen, a politician, the lady of the light, but in all of these roles she is a leader. and she always determines and does things her own way. at best, it makes her a successful outlier. at worst, it makes her an outcast. so i would like to see more of that with her.

it can be said that in some ways, finrod is an excuse for her obsessive fight while her main desire is glory, power and recognition, and her main drive is her own darkness and ambition to be the one who slays sauron and saves all middle-earth so that everyone bends their knee to her. she likes being a crusader in the 2nd age, and being a powerful witch in the 3rd age. i would love these traits to be highlighted in fics.

there is a dichotomy in either's feelings for the other and i think it's fascinating to explore. especially with this season highlighting sauron's (maybe subconscious) wish to worship her vs. his (desperate) need to possess her. i actually would love a mythological au where sauron is a delusional and obsessive worshiper of that universe's god of the light galadriel. could be an interesting mystical concept to explore. (insp - 1, 2, 3, 4).

knight!galadriel knight!galadriel knight!galadriel

knight!galadriel falling in love with the dark being she is hunting down and trying to slay (insp - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6).

this gifset makes me want to read a knight!galadriel x original!sauron au.

the backstory about warrior!galadriel's adventures, her quests and crusades. the more she fights and desires power, the more alienated she is amongst elves, but it's almost as if she isn't alone. it's not just finrod's dagger that keeps her company, but the perpetual presence of her sworn enemy she is devoted to slaying on her mind! he is always with her, the thought of killing him calming her down and comforting her.

unpopular opinion! i actually don't mind love triangles. like, i would hate anyone getting in the way of haladriel in the show itself, but it can be fun in some fics. and it *could* work with anyone - i would prefer celeborn and adar but i wouldn't hate gandalf or even elrond (i prefer him as gal's bff ofc). even morgoth as sauron's abusive ex could work.

MODERN AU! guys, i really need it. and when it comes to the modern aus, i like them fluffy hurt/comfort tbh. young love type of stuff. but it also can be ceo!galadriel x secretary!sauron. in a modern timeline, galadriel would 100% be a careerist striving for a leadership position, while sauron would be a perfectionist in either crafts or service industry. also, would love a larger cast of characters.

yuri haladriel selfcest. please.

galadriel x slime!sauron <3

witch!galadriel in the witches & wizards au!

i yapped a lot about galadriel & sauron vs. morgoth and if anyone is willing to write it, i would owe them my life, lol. i feel like it would need to be a multi-chapter epic tho.

[cieloclercs]

*:･ﾟ✧* ── 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫, prologue

pairing. prince!charles leclerc x princess!verstappen!oc

summary. by royal decree, the house of verstappen announces the betrothal of its youngest daughter, princess cecilia verstappen, to prince charles of house leclerc

warnings. a little bit rushed, mentions of/allusions to abuse (only once), j*s verstappen (dude needs his own warning in this fic 🥴) but not a whole lot for this chapter!

word count. 1k+

author’s note. yikes this has been sitting half finished in my drafts for so long 😭 i finally got it done today so i figured it’s time to officially begin this series :)) i’m genuinely sooo excited to write this you have no idea

00. prologue

read it on wattpad!

next ➜ chapter 1

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 tumultuous, inky black waves crashing against the cliff face, and he knows he's found his sister. It's been an hour since Princess Cecilia Verstappen left the palace. Guards are searching for her high and low, turning their shared quarters upside down. King Jos is furious (though, when is he not?) and his wife is frantic. But they don't know their daughter. Max does. He knows that at a time like this, there's only one place she'll want to be.

The announcement has come as a shock to both of them. Sure, they've always been aware of the tensions in Hasselian-Montean relations, but, they suppose, being young teenagers spending most of their days exploring the palace grounds or studying with their private tutor, they've been somewhat shielded from the true gravity of the situation. Perhaps Max could have predicted it: if he'd been paying proper attention, of course. It's him Jos is raising to become King, after all. But a betrothal, an alliance through marriage is something he's never foreseen.

Cecilia's fury still shakes the ground beneath his feet when he approaches her. She's sat as close to the cliff edge as possible (something which has always made him nervous, though she seems to marvel in watching the icy black water churn from a sheer drop of two hundred feet), with her knees drawn all the way up to her chest. Sobs wrack the young princess' body. Max feels them deep in his own heart, tugging and tearing away. He can't imagine how difficult this must be for her: to have her freedom, her choice snatched so cruelly away. It's the one thing Cecilia has fought hardest for. Now, with nothing but a few formally exchanged letters and two signatures at the bottom of a bit of old parchment, it's slipped straight through her fingers.

Max sits down beside his sister silently. He knows her well enough to realise there's no point trying to comfort her with words. She'll only throw them back in his face, scream and shout of the injustice for the entire kingdom to hear. So he sits in silence; waits for her sobs to grow quiet and her breathing to even out. All the while the ocean roars beneath them — a terrifying force to anyone else, but to them, a comfort. A familiarity.

“I won't leave." the young princess says finally, her voice wavering, yet steeled with determination, "I won't."

Max sighs. He fears, yet again, that she may have no choice in the matter. There's a second term to this contract. To strengthen the alliance, Cecilia is to spend six months of the year in Monteo with her betrothed and the rest of the royal family. It's an agreement that will be put into effect on the second day of the New Year — only two weeks from now. The Verstappen twins, for all their fourteen years of life, have never spent more than a day apart from each other. It's just been them for as long as they can remember. Now they're being forced apart, dragged away to entirely different kingdoms for the sake of this alliance. Max wishes there was something he could do to stop this from happening. But he knows his father, and King Jos has made up his mind. No force on earth can prevent the future when he dictates it.

"You have to, Lia." Max replies, his voice barely a whisper, "You know what he'll do if you refuse."

Not even she can argue against that. Her fate is sealed, as far as the next six months in Monteo are concerned. Unless...

“Then I shall make him hate me." Cecilia blurts out, even more determined now than before. Her brother's head shoots up.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

For a moment, she says nothing. Her gaze is cast out across the ocean, stopping only where the horizon ends. The waves no longer crash quite so ferociously against the cliff face. Yet her mind is a storm, and it has only one target — even if she knows, deep down, that the young Prince of Monteo is as innocent in all this as she is.

"I shan't speak to him. I shan't know him. Whatever father and King Hervé want me to travel to Monteo for, I'll do the opposite." Cecilia all but spits, her face contorted with rage. It's almost frightening. She may be fierce and headstrong, but Max knows his sister — she isn't malicious. She's kind in her heart. It makes him wonder what will happen to them both in the future; if their father's vice-like grip will turn them into hateful, vindictive, half-humans. Will he drain all the life out of them?

"Lia, please think about this." Max warns. The desperation in his voice has his sister's expression softening — but only for a moment.

"If he hates me, he won't want to marry me." she whispers. Their eyes lock, blue on blue, "I'll be free."

But at what cost? Is the question they must ask themselves. At the cost of the alliance? At peace between their kingdoms? Or even at the cost of Cecilia's life, of her childhood. King Jos is not kind to those who hinder his plans, even if they are family. The countless bruises and scars on both their bodies are testament to that. But this is far bigger than acting up at a banquet, than hiding out in the forest past curfew. This is Hasselia. Perhaps whatever scrap of childish naïveté, of love towards their father that remains has them hoping he'll be lenient towards his daughter. But after the things they've seem him do, they just can't be sure.

"Promise me you'll be careful." is all Max can say. He won't argue with his sister, not when knows it's pointless. Hoping and praying she'll heed his warning will have to be enough.

"I promise." Cecilia murmurs back.

They both know her words are empty.

taglist: @shinrjj @numberonelaurenfan @dracosswhore @sainzluvrr

if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story, just leave a comment on this post asking! <3

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕤 𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!reader

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - e, dead dove: do not eat, smut, non-con, dub-con, PiV, creampie, fear, degradation (mild), praise kink, the beginning is definitely non-con so read at your discretion

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: the promise of immortality, it has a pull you cannot resist. you have to try and gain it, to be given the eternal gift. without much thinking you find yourself in Szarr palace but when you are in front of the Lord himself - your resolve begins to weaken. you can try changing your mind but Cazador won't let you escape.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4,125

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: who's better to explore darker concepts with than Cazador lol. and well, i do find him extremely alluring so enjoy, i hope you will, because i did enjoy writing this <3 i̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶a̶b̶s̶o̶l̶u̶t̶e̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶n̶o̶r̶m̶a̶l̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶

“Stupid little girl, do you have any idea what you wandered into?” a voice reaches you, it carries an edge like a razor’s blade and makes you immediately uncomfortable. It’s higher in pitch than most male voices you’ve encountered, but somehow it’s the most unsettling one you have heard in your life.

No, he’s wrong, you know exactly what you wandered into.

A Vampire’s Lair.

When you turn and face the man who silently approached you without you noticing, you find yourself standing in front of him – the immortal Cazador Szarr. His towering figure seems to be looming over you even with considerable distance between you. His slicked black hair and piercing red eyes that carry a glow make a cold shiver run down your spine. He watches you with a look you have seen on predator animals before. It makes your skin crawl and your palms sweat.

Have you been stupid to come here? Is this what you really want?

“I… I…” you begin, your lower lip quivers and you can’t hold his eyes anymore, casting yours down. You’re absolutely terrified. You heard the stories.

Stories of immeasurable cruelty, stories of flayings, stories of eviscerations, stories that you heard from his own spawn when you met one of them in a tavern a month or so ago. But that seems like a small thing compared to why you came here.

You want immortality, no matter the cost.

And perhaps stupidly you have a slim hope that maybe you can persuade the Vampire Lord not to treat you horribly. If you serve him willingly, even enthusiastically by offering yourself, then maybe he won’t do those horrible things to you that he so gleefully inflicts upon others.

“Speak up, girl!” Cazador’s voice feels like a whip on bare skin and you flinch, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your strength. You have to at least try to bargain, if not, this hallway will witness your death.

“Lord Cazador I…” you swallow dryly and open your eyes, looking down at the carpet beneath your feet. You wish you could melt into it and disappear completely.

And why is he treating you this way? His servants let you in, told you were to find him, of course he has been informed that you’re here, was he not? Why is Szarr asking you why you wandered in here, it wasn’t by accident, it was not! You remind yourself of your desperate goal, of your own heart beating in your chest, you want it gone, you want to be eternal. Surely people have done stupider things to achieve immortality, surely there’s people who have been in your situation. Or worse.

Cazador’s footsteps are muffled by the carpet but they sound as loud as drums in your ears. You still can’t lift your face, your whole body is trembling and you ball your fingers into fists just to have any sense of control but it feels futile the moment you see noses of vampire’s boots stop in front of you.

“Look at me.” a command, one that has to be obeyed, Cazador sounds like a man who is used to people obeying to him and you are sure this is not just your imagination. How long as he been immortal? Two centuries, three? Maybe more? This man in front of your shaking form has been controlling his coven for more than some cities last.

Yet you follow his command, but not without strain. Your neck muscles feel like they are so tense they will snap the moment you move but you do so anyway, lifting your face up, your eyes trailing up Szarr’s body slowly. You don’t want to meet his eyes, they terrify you and yet you have to. If you still have half a mind to bargain with this imposing Lord, you have no choice but to face him.

Fabric of his black pants, a dark grey shirt draping over the belt, his open dark doublet richly embroidered with red metallic thread strangely looking like rat tails, the rings on his fingers that you catch a glimpse of, one of them bearing the Szarr family crest, his shirt open down to his collar bone, his unnaturally pale skin, a smirk tugging at his lips, a sharp line of his nose and then… your whole body shudders when you meet his eyes again, still carrying that scarlet glow that makes your knees weak and your body tense. Your fists continue to tremble by your sides and you know he sees it.

“Tell me, girl, why are you here?” Cazador is towering over you, it feels like he’s casting a shadow over you made from eternal void. You try to swallow but your throat is dry.

“I…” you stammer again, godsdamn it get a grip on yourself your mind yells at you and you inhale before trying to continue. “I wanted to… ask a favor.” it sounds silly, stupid even, you chastise yourself for not thinking through beforehand on what to say.

“A favor, hm?” Szarr lifts an eyebrow in curiosity. At least he’s not killing you right away, you count that as a success.

“Yes, please, just hear me out.” now you rush to speak, you don’t want to lose what it seems your only chance to actually talk to him, maybe even get what you came here for.

“Hear you out?” a pause as the Vampire studies your face, appraising you like you’re just another painting or a luxurious chair, you barely notice that you’re digging your nails into your palms, the pain is short, you broke the skin.

The moment it happens Cazador’s eyes immediately snap to your hands and he reaches out, taking your wrist and lifting your hand to your chest level.

“What’s this?” Szarr asks and you obey even without a command, you open your fingers, your palm slightly bloody, but you don’t see that, all you can see is the hunger that flares up in the Vampire’s eyes, for a brief moment making him look feral rather than a distinguished Lord of his palace.

And then he smirks, widely, his eyes flicking back to you.

“Very well, we shall talk.” when Cazador speaks you glimpse his fangs and your heart leaps in your chest. The promise of immortality, so close you could touch it, only if you were stupid enough to risk your life, that is.

But you’re not that brave or stupid, so when Vampire Lord releases your wrist you pull your hand to your chest and watch him turn on his heel, walking away.

“Follow.” another command as if you’re a dog rather than a person but you trail after him anyway. Your steps feel shaky and unsure, but you glance down at your palm and wipe the blood onto your hip, feeling slightly more relaxed now.

While you follow Szarr to wherever he’s leading you, you take your time to glance around. Paintings decor the walls and you can’t say that the imagery in them is a pleasant one: devils and undead, scenes of what could be either murder or coitus. You realize with sudden shock that if you do tell Cazador what you want from him - you most likely will remain between these walls forever. The back of your neck begins to sweat and you look around some more, taking in the view of candles and chairs, the wallpaper and carpets.

This place might become your home.

Before your panic starts to build your attention is drawn by Cazador stopping and opening a door at the end of the hallway. He walks in first and you follow him with your resolution to ask him that favor melting with each step.

What were you thinking…

“Close the door.” a softer tone, almost casual and you do as he says. When you turn back you watch Cazador walk to his desk and stop there, as if thinking, then turn to you. “Come closer.” Another almost gently sounding phrase and you walk towards him with your heart at your throat, your mind is reeling but you can’t stop yourself.

You feel like you’re walking into a lion’s den with each tentative step.

You keep respectable distance when you stop in front of the Vampire Lord and keep your eyes at his chest. No, you can’t look him in the eyes again, not right now.

“You spoke about asking me a favor, girl. What is it that you want?” Cazador sounds smug - you don’t see his taunting smirk and you’re not aware of his mocking look cast upon your face that is drained from blood in fear.

 “Yes… I…” you pause, do you really want this? Do you? To be forever bound to this man just to be immortal? What if he does not treat you better? What if you can’t obey him well enough, make mistakes and get tortured like others? What if what you can offer to him is not enough? What if your body in exchange is not enough?

No.

Nonononono.

This was a mistake.

“I think…” you swallow hard. Damn it, what have you gotten yourself into. Maybe it’s not too late to flee yet. Maybe you can retreat and rethink what is it that you truly want.

“Speak, girl!” Cazador demands, his tone is harsh again and you flinch at that, looking up at him.

“I think I made a mistake by coming here.” you say in a voice barely above a whisper and Szarr chuckles. It starts as a low rumble in his chest and then he laughs, scoffs at you, his smirk reveals his fangs that now look more like a threat than a promise.

“Silly girl, you think you can walk into my palace and waste my time? No, you will tell me why you came here or I will force it out of you.” Cazador begins a slow walk around you, circling you not unlike a wolf preying on a wounded foal. You’re in his domain and you’re not leaving unless he permits you.

You were so stupid to come here.

Damn it.

“Please, I just want to leave.” you hear your voice and you sound like you’re begging. Maybe you are. You are definitely scared, terrified even. You’re facing a monster and you stupidly thought that you could placate it.

“Leave?” Szarr chuckles behind you and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Maybe you will leave. Only if you answer why you’re here.” a threat, an unveiled one. The trap closed around you the moment you entered the palace, you realize that now.

You know you should make up a lie, not tell the real reason you came here, come up with something silly, less damning, but you can’t think of anything. Nothing at all comes to your mind besides the bitter truth and you stand frozen in spot for a moment longer, feeling Cazador’s presence pass in front of you slowly.

And then a touch of cold fingers under your chin, turning your face to the side, lifting it to almost uncomfortable angle and you open your eyes just to immediately be ensnared by his sanguine gaze. A silent gasp escapes your lips.

“I thought I wanted immortality.” you hear yourself speak and you’re not sure if he somehow compelled you to tell the truth or if it’s just his presence, casting a dark shadow onto your mind that made you admit the truth.

You notice immediate change in Cazador’s face. At first he looked arrogant - now his smile falters, his eyes search yours.

“You want to be a vampire, girl?”

“I… I don’t know.” you admit again and your bottom lip trembles. You’re terrified to bear witness to the Vampire Lord’s rage. The stories… the horror stories that you heard, they return to your mind in flashes of imaginary visions.

“You don’t know…” Cazador’s voice trails off then he grins, widely. “I suppose I’ll make this decision for you.” you freeze in shock at his words, your eyes widen and he enjoys the sight of your fear. “After all, you came here on your own volition. It would be rude of me to… not accept a gift freely given.”

Fuck.

Your mind reels and then something snaps in you. Panic overtakes you, more animalistic than human and you run.

At least you try to run.

You hear a short laugh, then the back of your jacket is grasped and you get pulled back as if you’re weightless.

You scream in panic, in fear, in sheer terror gripping you and dig your heels into the carpet but to no avail. Next thing you know you’re being lifted off the floor just to be slammed into the ground chest first and pinned there with a fist between your shoulder blades. The drop was so heavy it takes your breath out of your lungs and you gasp like a fish tossed on a shoreline for a moment. Cazador uses this moment to kneel over your form and lean to your ear with a menacing chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re in luck, little girl. I was getting bored tonight. You will serve as entertainment just fine. And when I’m done with you, you darling thing, you will never be the same again.”

His words, so cold and mocking, your heart nearly stops. Still in sheer panic you try to push yourself up, for your effort only to be met with a taunting laugh.

But when the fist leaves your back you pause, then swiftly get to your knees, forgetting that Cazador is still kneeling over you. The top of your skull meets his nose and you hear a shout. You turn to look over your shoulder, your eyes still wide, and now you see that you harmed the Vampire Lord. He probably expected you to crawl, not to try to get up, this led to you crashing into his face, his nose getting the worst from the impact.

Time slows as you watch Szarr slowly pull a palm from his nose. It’s bloodied just like the bottom half of his face but in his eyes you see only pure fury.

You harmed him. However unintentionally.

And you will pay for it.

There’s not a single word coming out of Cazador’s mouth, only a bloodied sneer that transforms him from scary to absolutely terrifying. The rage on his face speaks of murder. And then the side of your face gets slammed back into the carpet.

You cry out from pain, it feels like your bones are grinding, but the grip on the back of your neck is iron-like.

“No, please…” you whine with fear gripping your chest and tears gather in your eyes.

“Shut up.” the order is curt and clear, it makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth.

You clench your teeth and when you feel Szarr grab the waistline of your pants you close your eyes, letting the tears drop onto the carpet. He lifts your hips in the air, making you use your knees and you wince when with one determined pull your pants get slid down your hips and then almost to your knees. Exposed, scared and helpless, you can’t do anything, you know what’s coming.

“You pretty little whore.” Cazador mutters now, he thumbs your folds before he pushes it into your cunt, making you whimper. “You’ll be perfect to use and discard.”

A sob claws at your chest but you don’t let it out, just squeeze your eyelids tighter. His thumb is working your core and you stifle a desperate moan. You can feel your body reacting, responding to the invasion, protecting itself from harm if possible. And then the thumb gets removed. A second passes and you hear a low chuckle.

“You’re a tasty toy, girl. Maybe I’ll keep you for longer than just tonight. Just to see how long it will take for you to break.”

You don’t respond, you just keep your eyes closed, but his words make dread pool in your insides. Another sob wracks at your chest, it doesn’t escape, it’s hard for you to breathe as is, your breasts pressed firmly to the floor. Yet your mind is already painting you horrific pictures of what’s to come if Szarr indeed decides to keep you. Your panic rises again and you sweat, trying to think of a way to escape, to free yourself from this monster.

A shout is forced out of you as Cazador’s cold cock plunges into you without a warning. Your eyes snap open at the contrast of temperature and the sudden feeling of fullness makes your head swim.

“Oh Gods…” you whine and get a mocking laugh in return.

“No Gods to help you here, worm.” his tone is degrading, taunting and you blush.

Wait, no. Gods no.

You close your eyes again and try to relax, trying not to think how him degrading you like this actually stirs something in you more than just fear. Stop – you tell yourself in a mantra that you forget immediately the moment the Vampire Lord begins thrusting.

His skin slaps against your ass in powerful, precise rhythm and you can’t help it, you moan silently. Oh no, no, why does this feel so good. Your face blushes even harder. No, you shouldn’t enjoy this, you can’t. Did he work his powers on you? No, you have to be honest with yourself, you know he didn’t. But his dick claiming your cunt as if its rightful place is making you actually aroused.

A different kind of fear begins to claw at your mind – you want him to treat you this way.

No. You can’t let him do this.

Your eyes snap open and with newly found determination you grit your teeth and push your palms against the floor, trying to battle his supernatural strength still squeezing your neck down.

“Tsk, little girl. You will learn to obey.” Cazador snaps at you and grabs your wrist, twisting it behind your back.

You grunt with frustration and still try to fight back but he releases your neck and grabs your other wrist, now bringing it over the first one and his long, strong fingers pin them both to your lower back. You try to lift your head but his once more free hand returns to your neck and makes sure your head stays down as well.

“Behave, you slut, or else you won’t see the sunrise.” a threat, a very real one, but with a promise in it – you might live.

You only notice Cazador’s thrusts stopped when he resumes them. Couple slow ones at first, he’s gripping your wrists and neck and it takes him a moment to position his knees for better balance, but then his pumps become powerful once again. No one ‘normal’ fucks like that. He has to hold you in place so that you don’t move, his grip painful and cold. His cock stretching you near to your limit and you moan again. So why, why you find yourself enjoying this?

Your body trembles as it welcomes Cazador, you become wetter and wetter as you submit to him, letting yourself relish the feeling, the power that’s forced onto you. Yes, you are enjoying this. Because, you have to admit to yourself - you have hoped for this. When you came here to bargain for immortality, this is exactly what you hoped for: to be his in pleasure and not in pain. You listen to the Vampire Lord grunt with satisfaction as he keeps fucking you, his grip still firm on your sweaty skin.

“Hm, you learned your place quickly.” he comments with another taunt and you open your eyes, feeling dazed from pleasure overtaking your mind. You try to focus and realize that the sound you’re hearing is your completely soaked pussy being pumped into with fervor. How vulgar.

How beautiful.

Your eyes meet his and you don’t fear the bloody embers that bore into you. How you could’ve been afraid of him? That fear that made you run in panic feels so alien to you in this moment. In this moment when you’re being taken. Blood on his lips and chin somehow makes him even more alluring.

“I want… immortality.” you manage through moans and Cazador smirks, his own gaze now reflecting physical gratification he’s achieving with your body.

“I shall consider it.”

You smile at that. Yes, of course you do. That’s what you wanted all along and Cazador is not indifferent to your obedience. His hand leaves your neck, giving you more room to breathe and express those delicious to his ears moans. Instead he grabs your hip, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and you watch his eyes sweep down your back, watching himself fuck you. This is the best you ever felt, the power of his body, your powerlessness in his grasp. You never knew you’d like such a thing but here you are, your eyes rolling nearly to the back of your head from what’s being done to you.

“Oh Gods… I’m close…” you whine, your body shuddering with pleasure.

“Of course you are.” Cazador taunts but you hear from his voice that he might not be able to keep going longer either. His thrusts are becoming erratic, uncontrolled and desperate. “You take me so well, little girl. So deliciously tight.”

That’s it, you can’t hold on anymore. His words push you over the edge and the knot in your stomach unravels with such power there’s nothing left but you and your orgasm. You cry out, you’re not sure how loud, and your body shakes with waves of overwhelming satisfaction. Only thing you hear is a loud groan from Cazador because your contracting cunt sends him over his own edge. He keeps slamming his cock into you, milking himself with your clenched core until he can’t go on anymore, until you’re full of his cum, as much as he could give you.

Cazador stops, panting and slightly trembling not unlike yourself, and you glance at him, trying to catch your own breath. You see his disheveled hair and he licks his lips, tasting his own blood that has dried already. Yet his eyes are cruel and unforgiving. There’s no softness and no affection in them. He used you. And you enjoyed it. You both know it.

After a moment longer he finally releases your wrists and swiftly pulls out of you, as if you having his cock in you for a second longer than is necessary is below him. He wipes his dick on your ass and stands up, tucking himself back into his pants, his look is anything if not arrogant. When you are not fast enough to get up he presses the sole of his shoe against your ass and pushes forward, making you splay yourself on the floor with embarrassment.

“Get up.” he commands coldly.

Since your wrists are finally free, you gather yourself up from the floor, stumbling a little bit because of your pants around your knees and your head feeling dizzy. You fix your clothing as Cazador watches in silence, his arms crossed on his chest. Judgmental.

“I will consider granting you immortality, little girl. But until I make a decision you are mine. I will use you and you will allow yourself to be used. You shall remain here, within the walls of the palace and serve me in every need. Is that understood?” Szarr’s voice is again cold and sharp, a command that demands to be obeyed. You simply nod, but this time you look into his eyes with no fear. This is what you wanted after all, was it not?

“I will obey you in all things.” you summarize and notice a flash of surprise in his expression but it’s so brief you’re not sure you really saw it. Still, Cazador’s face transforms in a malicious smirk.

“Yes, you will.” he takes a pause to look over your form. “Go, find a servant, let them show you to my chambers. Wait there.” He turns away from you and walks to his desk, picking up a napkin from it and beginning to rub at the dried blood on his chin.

You don’t linger. Without even as much as a nod you turn around and open the door. It feels like you’re about to exit in a world that changed so drastically after you entered earlier. In a way it’s true – your world has changed.

And Cazador was right about one thing – you can’t return from this, from a brand new world of pleasure he just showed you. He tainted you. And you want more of it.

Indeed, you will never be the same again.

[valentine-cafe]

Can I have milk tarts and mango pudding please? (Vampire au) A low-ranked halfblood(gn!reader) dancing with Alessio however it's not so heartwarming. For you see the cruel prince thought to have his precious knight dance with someone he(Alessio) dears so secretly but too afraid to admit those feelings, to truly have the reader close emotionally and intimately. Being the kind prince he is, Talisen decides to grant his knight a dance of a lifetime. Oh no, the low-blood has no regal dancing skills and are performing a waltz in front of the ENTIRE vampire nobility looking like a clutz? What a shame they must be soo embarrassed they probably want to die a second time on the spot. Maybe the knight shouldn't have lied to the prince's face, maybe the poor knight could have saved his secret paramour (the delulu of this man) from the humiliation and cruel whispers from other nobles. He could stop, stop this twisted dance. But the look the prince gave him told him, warned him: "You stop, they'll suffer." So the dance continues, the knight pushing forward unable to wipe his darlings' tears as the prince smiles with glee. (I wanted to see the cruelty and obsession Talisen has towards Alessio and I thought punishing him for "cheating" was a fun thing to explore🤣 Poor reader, has no idea Alessio has a crush on them 😭 they just thought he was a half-blood helping them adapt to vampire life not a well-respected KNIGHT)

. ˚◞♡ vampire knight x gn reader x vampire princess ꒰ asterism vampire au ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ vamp au: 9948e alessio x gn reader x 781 talisen ꒱ you are a mere low-rank vampire. you caught the eye of the vampire knight, alessio - but you never have guessed that in doing so - you attracted the rage of the obsessive vampire prince. 

𖹭. content warnings◞  angst . implied violence at end . 1.1k

𖹭. receipts◞  first and foremost we love you for sending in this request because it was sooooo good! getting to write about talisen's obsessive nature and poor alessio . . . kissing your brain for this masterpiece!

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . vamp au . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

“it is alright. keep your eyes on me.”

you wish not for him to see your tears. but how more embarrassed could you possibly be? it is a lesser sentence than the judging gazes of those around. on your attire. on your shoes. the way that they misstep and fumble. how your hands clumsily clasp and grip to the fabric of the knight’s clothes.

what an eyesore. a low-blood dancing with a knight. how befitting. two servants trailing along in unceremonious fashion. well at least the gala has some entertainment.

while you find the courage to look up at the one who holds you and tries his best to ease your predicament - you spot a haze of maroon. a smirk concealed by a glass chalice not too long after.

the prince was a cruel one. that you always knew. but you never could have anticipated such degrees of sadism when he urged you to dance with his beloved knight.

you had been told that you overstepped. and so to appease your ruler - you were to follow his command.

a dance. it did not seem like a punishment at first. to dance with the handsome knight who has made your stay at the kingdom of nocturne pleasant. until your mind caught up with the ramifications of this demand.

here you are now. humiliated and in tears. your heart in your hands and your soul sour at the thought that maybe — alessio had a say in this as well. you have heard of his sadism. while you never saw it. perhaps that is the reason you faced him with such smiles and affection.

the idea seems plausible. the want to humiliate a new vampire. to toy and twist at their self-esteem and very essence in a game you knew nothing of.

you wish to tell him to take his eyes off of you. the softness within them only appears mocking to you. you wish to run. to shove his hands off and flee the palace. flee the kingdom. to cry to yourself until you can no more and to find peace in the loneliness.

“I am sorry.” his voice quivers. you can hear no more. you refuse to.

“please. . . release me.” you quake in turn. fingers curling into the dark fabric of his poet shirt as a new round of tears cascades down your face as he so gently dips you. your feet stumble again. a round of strained laughter fills the room.

what a nightmare.

“release me.” you state firmer.

“I cannot.” he grunts.

from your sheer overwhelm. the ache in your heart and the sourness in your soul — you steer forth. your hands shove out and push him away. banking on his surprise, you watch as he stumbles in step and you flee off through the dancefloor. pushing past nobles and holding back your cries as you venture further into the palace.

where do you run? you are not sure. you do not care and you do not try to find reason. you run - and run - and run. until your lungs feel as though they bleed and your eyes burn ever more.

until a soft hand finds your wrist and your motions are halted with a small yank.

the eyes of the prince fill your vision and you quiver out a soft - “I-I am sorry - I am sorry for offending you. please let me go. please. I will do anything - anything by venture back - back there and face. . . face. . .”

tears stream down your face like waterfalls. his soft, pale hand dries them and takes your cheek into his palm. a cold thumb traces along your skin and his croon fills your ears.

“ssh. . . cry not, little dove. dry your tears.”

talisen muses. his voice lilted with a melody that both calms and frightens you all the same.

in the distance you hear your name. yet it sounds blurred. perhaps it is a fragment of your imagination.

“your apology is heard.” the vampire speaks. his face leans down towards yours and you feel your side gently grasped by his hand. “alas, I cannot accept it. you have offended me, after all. do you not know of repentance? it is a simple task that I had given you -”

“wh-what have I done my lord? please -” your choked sob is cut off by a gasp. your back collides with a wall and his tender hand is now calloused beneath your jaw. grip tight and eyes fierce.

you hear your name again. this time you recognise the voice - his voice - your beloved knight.

“my lord please!”

it cries. but your eyes remain on talisen. fearful. teary. as he clenches his hand tighter and grins despite the clear blaze written all over his gaze.

“what have you done? why, you have touched a prince’s property. that of which does not belong to you. you have stolen from me. and a thief’s hands are to be cut off - should they not?”

your slow-beating heart races. you cry out at the nails digging into your skin.

“you took what is mine. and so you shall pay.”

the sight of your knight is the last thing you remember seeing. his beg is the last you hear. everything else is a blur.

a bloody. blurred mess.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[marvelmaniac715]

I made Webby and the Lords in Black on Sims 4 a while ago:

Here’s Wiggly:

I was really proud of his hair. I also gave every Lord and Webby their own special room/building, so here’s Wiggly’s:

Decorating isn’t my strong suit but his room was the most fun to design, I was thinking mostly of a grand palace, mostly in green, with a fireplace and a table with thrones for him and his siblings to meet at - notice the white throne for Webby?

Here’s Pokey:

I couldn’t find a beret so I went for a Phantom of the Opera style fedora, but the eyes I found were PERFECT (side note - they are all spell casters because that made the most sense considering their godly powers). Here’s Pokey’s room:

I’ll be honest, I accidentally mostly forgot to give him instruments, my idea for this room was to explore his different interests because he spends most of TGWDLM trying to figure out what people want, and that’s reflected in the different activities in his room. I also gave him cool wallpaper that reminded me of a beehive as a cute nod to that - I think I gave him a violin in the end that you can only really see from a different angle.

Here’s Tinky:

My inspiration for Tinky’s look here was anime characters, much like in NPMD, but I found the perfect goat eyes for him that totally add to his look. Here’s Tinky’s room:

I gave Tinky every clock I could find, but the vibes of the room were definitely meant to replicate the cube with insane patterns meant to drive someone mad; there’s a rock climbing wall in the corner that I think alludes to Tinky’s feral energy.

Here’s Blinky:

I’ll be honest; this hairstyle for Blinky was what inspired me to recreate the eldritch siblings on the Sims, it just seemed perfect, and of course I made his eyes massive so he can have a good look at everyone. The sunglasses also seemed pretty accurate to me. Here’s Blinky’s room:

My idea for this room was to give Blinky things to watch - so there’s loads of tvs, a camera, comfy chairs and even spy tech in a corner in case shoes get too unrealistic for him. A small detail that I wanted to point out is that in every room for a Lord, I have placed lava lamps on their bedside tables that match their colours, funnily enough I just found them in the game anyway and they were a perfect fit.

Here’s Nibbly:

A fluffy jacket, pigtails and a big mouth, what else do you need for an accurate Nibbly? I love that jacket, I wish I owned it in real life. Here‘s Nibbly’s room:

Okay, this is essentially a fancy kitchen with a cupcake machine, a wardrobe, a vanity and a bed - I ran out of ideas here. Still, I think it’s cute and I think Nibbly would like it if he ever got midnight food cravings. This room could save lives.

Finally, here’s Webby:

I honestly think that Webby is the most accurate, I was looking at reference images for all of them but that dress seems like it’s been ripped right from the screen, not to mention her hair. I’m proud of this Webby, I can sleep well at night knowing I’ve at least done her justice. Here’s Webby’s room:

I was definitely going for ‘ethereal’ when I designed this room, with a chill, relaxing vibe - what could be more relaxing than loads of fairy lights? I also made it a priority to give Webby plants to show that she is encouraging new life instead of crushing it like her brothers - the larger amount of windows and lights also are meant to suggest that she’s a kinder, more moral/good person.

If you like my recreations, they are all together on the Sims gallery, just search for the Lords in Black and Webby or type in my EA ID, sparklefishkatie (shameless self-promotion) because I’ve put a lot of stuff on there over the years. Now; these guys are quite old, you might have to scroll back to find them, and I can’t actually remember if I put their rooms on the gallery, if I didn’t please let me know if you want them because I’ll absolutely put them up. If you’ve read to the bottom of this post, you’re the best, thanks a lot and please download these characters if you play Sims 4! 💕

[box-architecture]

How do we feel about Benchtrio fucking a helpless Dream? Because I have like a bunch of writing for that that I've been trying to pull together to make something coherent for you to read-

but also I've been pretty distracted and I'm aware that the TADCA interpretation of Dream/Tommy might have soured a lot of people to the idea of them in the same room, even if Tommy will be the one coming on to Dream (who is actively attempting to avoid him because Oh God Not Him) If you're game, I shrug and put a read more.

Mer!Dream being captured by pirates and fucked

Pirate!Dream being captured by mers and fucked

Pirate Captain Dream using his body to prevent a mutiny

Roguish Pirate Dream being captured by Pirate Benchtrio and plundered for all he's worth

high school senior Dream giving another senior a blowjob in a classroom, only to be caught by freshman/sophomore benchtrio. The senior awkwardly flees, and benchtrio are really horny about Dream looking very wide eyed and caught

cDream has some sort of scavenger hunt game going on, and jokingly offers himself/some sort of sexual favor as prize. One of benchtrio or all of them solve the hunt and pressure him into giving them what's owed

Tommy fucks Dream in prison

Tubbo fucks Dream in prison

Tommy is the prince of the kingdom and Dream is the knight supposed to be his bodyguard against would-be assassins, but has become the spoiled boys favorite fucktoy instead

Tubbo is the prince of the kingdom, and Dream is his mentor figure/army strategist who is more emotionally there for him than his own parents. Naturally, Tubbo plans on becoming king and then fucking him senseless

Ranboo is the prince of the kingdom and Dream is the King who wishes he wasn't. Ranboo fantasizes about wiping that exhausted expression off his face, carnally.

Dream is Ranboo's ballet instructor, and Ranboo would really like Tommy to stop telling Tubbo in increasing detail how he would fuck his teacher, when Ranboo doesn't even get to

^For the Prince Tommy thoughts, Dream was a knight for Tommy's kingdom, who frequently watched over him as part of a group of personal guards but was otherwise unremarkable to anyone but Tommy. When assassins attempted to kill Tommy, Dream was the one who saved him, killing the first wave and escorting him to a safe location where they remained until the castle could be combed for remaining traitors. At several points, explosions shook the palace, forcing Dream to shield Tommy against the walls with his own body. Tommy thinks very normally about this

Later, Tommy's personal squad of knights is purged and replaced with Dream as his sole retainer and bodyguard. Tommy refuses to go anywhere without Dream, and it's assumed that it's because he doesn't feel safe

Tommy is just really obsessed with his retainer. Dreams his knight, so his body belongs to Tommy, which means he can do whatever he'd like with it

Also smth smth teenage prince growing up and wanting to Experiment and Explore another person's body sexually and his personal knight is His so Obviously he needs to do his duty and let Tommy feel him up

^For Prince Tubbo thoughts, Tubbo growing up feeling incredibly lonely outside of Dream, who always stops to listen, gives Tubbo his full attention, and even let's Tubbo come to the war room to watch strategy play out. Tubbo watching Dream rise to be the youngest strategist in history at 18, known to be brilliant and sharp, but he still takes time for the prince always

Dream once smiling and saying Tubbo would make a fine king someday, he'd be glad to serve under someone like him. Tubbos thoughts lingering on these words for weeks.

King Schlatt going to war to collect more territory and putting Dream to work, forcing him to spend less time with Tubbo. Tubbo thinking You took him from me viciously when Schlatt is in the war room with Dream

Maybe Schlatt laughs at some point and calls Dream pretty boy all careless and drunk, and Tubbo has to stop himself from snarling

Dream becoming increasingly exhausted with each useless campaign. He still takes time for Tubbo, even with the shadows beneath his eyes.

Schlatr eventually either having a heart attack or stepping down from the throne, and Tubbo feeling triumphant as Dream drops down to one knee and smiles warmly, Your Majesty

All campaigns end. No more war, only peace. Tubbo goes into the strategy room late one night because he knows that's where Dream likes to busy himself. Tubbo has another kingdom to conquer

(Dream cries out and shakes his head as he begs His Majesty to see reason. Tubbo pushes three fingers alongside his cock and Dream adruptly stops being able to protest)

-

also, something something Dream being Helen of Troy, Tommy as Theseus. Tommy and Tubbo going to steal away Dream of Troy, because he has the audacity to be beautiful. Smth smth fucking ensues. If I have more in depth thoughts later I will rotate them but this is mostly just to say that Helen of Troy supposedly came out of an egg, which you can tie to Dreggs, Its All Connected You See<--- is very normal.

[not-a-seagull]

Some Huey and Kuya interactions from flashbacks in Sunburst Fever

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Blazing Sun – 04: “Shady Character”

[...]

Background: Oasis

Music: BGM 025

Huey: Here, this is for you, Kuya.

Kuya: Hmm? You disappeared for days without a word for this… a metal hoop?

Huey: Throw it away if you don’t want it.

Kuya: Heh, so now you’re using me to dispose of your unwanted items? At least tell me what this thing is.

Huey: It’s a handle taken from a Night Lantern.

Huey: I left the rest of the lantern somewhere in the desert. Perhaps one day it will have some effect on the area.

Huey: If so, that handle will begin to glow. Feel free to come back and investigate if that day ever comes.

Kuya: But you have no idea when this thing will start to glow, or what might happen?

Huey: Exactly. Even if something happens, there’s no guarantee it’ll be of any interest. Whether you come back to investigate or not isn’t important to me.

Kuya: …

Kuya: … We’ll just have to see what mood I’m in when that day arrives.

(Chapter ends.)

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Blazing Sun – 06: “Special Guests”

Background: Solaria Sunburst Festival Street (Day)

Music: none.

Many years ago, during one of the Grand Sorcerer’s countless visits to the Fire Territory—

Kuya: So you’re saying… this outfit is specially designed for desert climates?

Kuya glides his fingertips over the fabric and feels an instant cooling sensation spread through his skin.

Stallkeeper: That’s right! This type of fabric keeps you cool in the sun and gives the feeling of a light breeze blowing over every inch of your body.

Kuya: Oh…

Stallkeeper: Gold coins…! Thank you, sir! You have spectacular taste!

Kuya: Hmm… The cooling features are intriguing, but the overall look of the ensemble leaves a lot to be desired.

Background: None

Music: None (Kuya snaps his fingers)

Like a flash, the outfit goes up in a burst of purple foxfire. But rather than turn into ash, it morphs onto Kuya’s body, unrecognizable from its previous form.

Background: Solaria Sunburst Festival Street (Day)

Kuya: Will do nicely. 

Eager traveler: Hey, have you heard…? There’s a rumor going around about an ancient palace filled with treasure and surrounded by a vast oasis somewhere deep in the desert.

Skeptical Traveler: Yeah, I also heard that the treasure is in fact a Night Lantern that can grant any wish. Sounds a bit rich if you ask me. Kuya: (There it is again… I’ve heard that same rumor mentioned several times in the past few days.)

Kuya: A Night Lantern hidden somewhere in the desert…

Kuya turns the handle over his hands as he ponders the rumor spreading throughout the Fire Territory.

Kuya: (Hmm… Could it have something to do with Huey?)

Kuya: Heh… this little thing might just be more interesting than I thought.

A familiar figure passes silently by, his footsteps soft enough that no ordinary person would notice him, but not soft enough to escape the keen hearing of a fox yokai.

Kuya: Slipping away without so much of a word, as usual?

Huey: The altar has been regulated. You can stay here and explore if you like. As for me, I’m leaving.

Kuya: Already?

Huey: Yes, there is nothing here that interests me.

With that, Huey disappears into the shadows amidst the bustle of the marketplace.

Kuya: ……

Kuya: (Perhaps the next time I’m here… I’ll feel the same way.)

[...]

Background's from the nukani wiki | Blazing Sun 04 (Soon) | Blazing Sun 06 (Soon)

[oakdll]

i finished persona 4 golden !!!

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 4 GOLDEN AHEAD

It’s lowkey insane that they made the final villain a gas station employee, but it was super cool. I really love the story, almost as much as P5R, although the gameplay was definitely worse for me.

Obviously there are differences because of the release dates, but there were a lot of quality of life issues and inconsistencies. The last 5 dungeons or so felt comically easy, none of them took me more than 2 hours, especially with Marie and Izanami’s dungeons which took me less than an hour each, even with exploring every floor to the max.

The lack of Safe Rooms really hurts the level design here. You basically have to do every palace in one session (at least I did because I don’t like Goho-M’s). Being able to have save points before different sections in each P5 Palace was a stroke of genius, and returning to P4 where every floor is basically identical is just boring. I like how each floor is randomly generated, but it also really takes away from the individuality of each dungeon. Pretty much every dungeon has the same random layout, the only differences are the visuals and occasional conditions like with Adachi not allowing you to fight shadows in one of his floors. Compared to P5, the lack of puzzles and insight into the characters really hurts. In P5, the design of each palace gave you insight into its rulers psyche. In P4, you really only get the occasional confrontation with the character and some dialogue at the start of each floor.

There were also WAY too many chances to mess up your ending. There isn’t anything really wrong with having a lot of endings, but having so many points where you can accidentally get a bad ending because you picked an option that wasn’t obviously wrong was ridiculous. I had heard there were a lot of chances to get a bad ending if you aren’t careful, so I used a spoiler free guide. Having to pick like 7 of the right answers in a row to get a good ending is insane.

If I wasn’t spoiled on Adachi before playing, I never would have guessed it. That is good for the story, but having to deduce it yourself is a bit too much to ask of the player. I think P5 did good with prompting you to save your game before game changing events happen. A mix of that and confirming with the player when they are going off-course from the true ending makes the game relatively simple to play through with no guide. with P4, you basically have to look up a guide for the true ending. Having to say “no” when prompted to leave Inaba to get the true ending is insane, if I didn’t know beforehand I would have messed up my entire playthrough. It makes no sense unless you know the story beforehand, especially when no other Persona game asks you to do something like that.

The game is also shockingly bigoted, which goes entirely against the themes of the Persona series and the game itself. Ironically, in a game about pursuing the truth, the made Naoto deny his truth of being trans. They wrote such good queer characters and then came to entirely the wrong conclusion and ruined it all. I still think if you can look past the homophobia and transphobia, the game has phenomenal writing, but it gets really uncomfortable at times.

The nostalgic feeling Inaba gives off and the PS2 graphics really help the vibe of this game. It feels so much warmer than P5, and I am ALWAYS a sucker for a murder mystery. The fog is such a good visual element to the game, and I have a strange obsession with electrical poles, so having those be a frequent set piece is awesome.

The characters are so wonderful, I really wish I had more time to max out all of the social links here, but I think I would have had to skip out on helping Nanako with her homework and I would never do that to her. Nanako and Kanji are both some of my all time favorite Persona characters, they are both so sweet and I would do anything for them. Marie is also one of my favorites, I have no idea why anybody could hate her. Yukiko is amazing, Chie is a lot of fun, and Yosuke is hilarious. Teddie is a freak but I love him but I HATE his blue eyes, Rise is super nice, and Naoto is so cool. The Investigation Team is debatably better than the Phantom Thieves as a main cast, but they are so close for me. The main characters are all just great.

As for social links, I think P5 still has it beat here. The social link cast in P4 is still good, but there aren’t any benefits like in P5 and some of the characters here I REALLY don’t like. Sayoko is an outright pedophile. With Kawakami at least if you don’t choose to romance her in-game she isn’t as much of a creep, while Sayoko actively sexually harasses a high schooler. I also did not like Eri, I didn’t get to spend much time with her but she really could have treated her kid better. I know she’s struggling but she would lash out leave her kid at daycare because he was having more fun there than at home. Naoki was cool, I barely got to spend any time with him but from what I did see he was nice and seeing the grieving process of one of Adachi’s victims was super interesting. For the club social links, I chose Kou and Ayane. Kou was great, one of my favorites but I ended up prioritizing party members and couldn’t max him out. Ayane was nice, I like her arc but her voice acting really ruined a lot of the social link for me. Ai was also nice, but I couldn’t spend too much time with her and I didn’t like her romance subplot. I actually liked Shu a surprising amount, he was one of the few I maxed out because I had extra time in the evenings and I really liked how his arc ended. Hisano was one I really missed out on, I only got to rank 3 with her and from what I saw she was one of the most interesting in the game. Dojima is one of the best social links in all of Persona. He is very similar to Sojiro, but he’s a lot darker. There’s a lot more drama with him than with Sojiro, both of them are amazing, and Dojima’s relationship with Nanako is so sweet. Nanako as well might be my favorite Persona character. She is the sweetest thing ever, and I would do anything for her. Marie’s social link was also great, but I really didn’t like Margaret’s. I don’t like any Persona social link that requires you to go on quests. I didn’t like the Strength confidant in P5, and I don’t like Margaret or the Fox in P4. The fox is better by default because he’s a fox, but neither are super interesting to me.

The music is phenomenal because it’s a Persona game, but the P4 OST might be my single favorite Persona soundtrack. Pursuing My True Self, Signs of Love, Heartbeat Heartbreak, Heaven, Alone, Your Affection, Like a Dream Come True, Youthful Lunch, Reach Out to the Truth, Time to Make History, and Omen are some of my favorites. The only Persona game soundtrack to compare with P4 is P5, Whims of Fate, Beneath the Mask, Alleycat, Our Light, When Mother Was There, Price, and Butterfly Kiss are also up there. P4 is more nostalgic for me, so I think it might take the edge for me.

The story of P4 is also much more complex and interesting than P5. If it weren’t for Maruki’s palace being so good, I would say that P4 definitively has the better story. Adachi being the antagonist was such a phenomenal twist, and I loved him so much up to that point that it hurt even more. His social link is a phenomenal addition, I can’t imagine the game without it. Having so many endings is partially a result of flawed game design, but also the depth in the story. It really feels like an investigation team solving a mystery. Pushing further and further towards the truth throughout every suspect, from Kubo to Namatame to Adachi, and even Izanami if that counts, the game really accomplishes its goal. I haven’t done the accomplice ending, but I might do another playthrough to get it after I finish P3R.

P4G is a really great game, I think it’s a bit more flawed than P5R, but it’s still phenomenal and it’s not like P5 has no flaws either. P4 really excels with the story and I think the primary issues with it are just a byproduct of being over 10 years old at this point.

[amaretigris]

Toe the Line

Taglist: @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @notagreekgal28 @daydreamerwithnohobbies @luna2034 @freyagallileaevans @justagirlthatlovedtoread

A/n: I was given this other lovely idea from my dear friend. I'm not quite sure how many chapters this will be, but we'll see! Enjoy 💙

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Ch. 1 | 1.1k words | Fluff

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

It was another beautiful day at the castle when you finally saw him. The prince that you'd heard so much about. Though you'd only recently started your job as a handmaiden to the Queen here, you heard stories involving Prince Eric all the time. All the staff spoke fondly of him, and the Queen herself gushed about him all the time.

You could see why. He was a kind, strong, and handsome young man. Though you never expected to be acknowledged by him, you were pleasantly surprised when he fixed you with those bright blue eyes in the courtyard one morning.

"Good morning. I don't believe we've met. I'm Eric. What's your name?"

You immediately curtseyed.

"Oh, that's not necessary. My mother is not here at the present," Eric assured, reaching out to help you up.

You felt yourself blush immediately.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. My name's (Y/N)."

Eric smiled at you. You'd never seen a more beautiful smile. You hoped to be graced with it at least once more in your life.

"That's a beautiful name. You're new here at the castle, yes?"

You nodded.

"Lovely. How are your accommodations? If you need anything, simply say the word."

"They're wonderful. Thank you," you smiled.

A beat of silence passed as you examined each other.

"Well, I must be going. Please do let me know if you need anything," Eric excused himself.

You watched his retreating form.

𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ𖠳 ᐝ

Day after day, you saw Eric come to and fro the docks. Apparently, his mother had given him strict orders not to sail. The prince, as clever as he is charming, strove to find ways around her wishes. He seemed to be taken with the sea. You often wondered what it would be like to go exploring alongside him. Who knew what treasures he had discovered out there?

You yourself had never set foot on a sailboat. Not for lack of desire, but simply lack of opportunity. You were born to a poor family who had been in service your whole life. It seemed only logical that you would follow suit to become a handmaiden. When your mother saw a chance for you to become a handmaiden to the Queen, she sent you off without question.

"You will have a better life serving royalty, my darling," she explained.

You knew better than to question her decision. You were destined to a life of servitude before your conception, after all. It never bothered you. You knew your place in the world.

You were enjoying working at the palace so far, especially since it was situated on the beach. You could walk down in the evenings, and listen to the waves. The seafoam tickling your toes was another added benefit. One evening, as it grew dark, you even got bold enough to shed your dress on the shore. Clothed only in your undergarments, you walked out into the water. The motion of the waves calmed you. You swam and floated on your back for a while, simply letting the water rock you. It was getting close to pitch black, and you saw the stars dotting the sky. Reluctantly swimming ashore, you slipped your dress back on, and carried your shoes up the sandy stairs.

Your hair was wavy and wet, but you didn't mind. Smiling to yourself, you crossed the courtyard to retire to your room for the night. The huge bay window that you passed to your quarters was normally dark and empty, but tonight it was illuminated. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't help but peak inside.

You watched Eric's form twirl round and round the expansive ballroom with Lashana. They were laughing as they glided across the marble tile. Frozen in fascination, you observed the two for a few minutes. You'd never seen dancing like this. It was so regal. It wasn't until your shoe dropped out of your hand and onto the pavement at your feet that the two of them stopped. Cursing and grabbing your shoe, you made the move to turn away from the door.

"(Y/N), is that you?"

Eric's voice pierced the serene silence of the night. You gulped and turned back to face him.

"Yes, I apologize Your Majesty. I didn't mean to intrude," you curtseyed out of habit.

Eric was already walking towards you.

"None of that, remember? Why are you soaking wet? Are you alright?"

Your eyes glanced up at his, and you saw his furrowed brow.

"Yes, sire. I went for a swim is all," you wrung your hands, feeling a tinge of pink on your cheeks.

Eric smiled at you.

"Did you? At this time of night? How wonderful," he laughed.

Looking back to him in confusion, you had been expecting to get reprimanded. Eric noticed your flustered look.

"What you do in your free time is your own, (Y/N). I'm sorry if we disturbed you. Lashana was making sure that my ballroom dancing is as adequate as ever. Mother is hosting a ball in two weeks."

You nodded.

"That's magnificent. I think I heard mention of it."

"Will you be attending?"

Again, you were surprised by the prince's words. No one ever cared if you showed up.

"I should be working."

"No," Eric shook his head.

"You should not be working. You should be enjoying the ball with everyone else," he stated simply.

You looked to Lashana who stood in the corner with her hands crossed over her abdomen. She smiled at you. Looking back to Eric, you were overwhelmed with his piercing blue eyes. You looked back down at your feet.

"Doesn't someone have to work the ball, sire?"

"Yes, well, we all take turns. Right, Lashana?"

Lashana nodded and smiled, but still didn't speak.

"There. It is settled. You will be coming to the ball," Eric smiled again.

You chanced another glance at his blue orbs.

"I'm afraid I have no dress fancy enough for a ball, Your Grace."

"Really? Well we'll have to mend that, won't we?"

Eric turned his head back to Lashana.

"Lashana, please take (Y/N) to the market sometime this week. Let her pick out a dress. Whatever she likes."

Lashana bowed her head.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she finally spoke.

She wore a smirk on her face after that. You wondered why.

"I couldn't accept that-" you started.

"You must accept it," Eric scrunched his brow.

You couldn't withstand his scrutinous gaze on you, and quickly nodded your agreement. A smug expression stamped his features.

"There is one other thing, Your Majesty," you trailed off, looking to the window beside you.

"What's that?"

"I don't know how to dance."

[evenhisfacewasanalias]

Fragments of Eros (Part 3)

Lady Jane Grey/Guildford Dudley

Rating: Adult

The last of the embers turned to ash, and something brushed her hand. She let out a small cry at the brief touch, the anticipation of claws or teeth that followed. But none did.

Only the feel of a warm circlet of gold slipped around her ring finger by human hands. The sound of a man’s voice, gentle, and not a beast’s.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

A Cupid and Psyche/(Beauty and the Beast) AU, inspired by and encouraged by schokoleibniz.

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter 3: The Castle

The next morning, Jane woke to find herself alone in her bed, only the slight tenderness between her thighs to prove the last evening hadn’t been a dream. Beside her, on the vacant pillow, lay the blindfold she had worn. The dark, silken fabric had been carefully folded, with a slip of parchment set across the top reminding her of the need to wear it each night if she wished for a visit from her husband. She was puzzled at this missive, the idea that her ghostly lover wouldn’t return to her until nightfall. She still had a great deal she wished to ask of him. His sudden disappearance was strange, but it was no stranger than anything else that had happened to her since she had crossed the threshold into Kent.

Jane considered how she might fill her day in this new prison. Her bridegroom had told her she would be safe in the castle, and that she would have some freedom here. Jane decided she would use this day to explore the realm of her captivity, and perhaps to consider some new means of escape.

She took stock of the room around her. The furnishings were nearly as sparse as she glimpsed the night before - the small fireplace, the canopied bed she was still nestled in, and the wardrobe, with the addition of a small table and two wooden chairs that had been hidden in shadow the night before. Atop the table lay a small breakfast of toast and two boiled eggs. A cup of tea beside it, still half warm, made her wonder how recently her husband had left her, or whether someone else might have slipped into the room in the meantime. Though she saw no evidence of the presence of another human last night, she suspected she was far from alone in the castle.

Jane wolfed down her small breakfast, realizing just how hungry she had been after all that had happened. Once finished, her stomach still growled for more. She resolved herself to go in search of a kitchen, or some other source of food, as soon as she was able. 

Looking down, however, she realized she could not leave this room in naught but her thin chemise. Her wedding gown still hung by the fire, but it was far too cumbersome to put on herself. Was there anyone here who might help her? Or perhaps some other garment was left in the room - something of her bridegroom’s? Though she had not seen him, she had known he was clothed last night, and presumably left in the same state this morning. But if this were his room, perhaps the wardrobe was his as well.

Jane went to carefully unlatch the two artfully carved doors of the ancient wardrobe, expecting to find little but hoping there might be a robe or some linens to drape over herself. Instead she found hanging within several gowns of antique make. Dresses like those she had seen only in the palace tapestries and in books - slim and soft-bodiced with draping sleeves and swirling skirts. The fabrics were simple but beautifully trimmed - one even in soft fur. Jane hesitantly chose a gown of pale blue wool, with a delicate silver ribbon lining the low rounded neckline and banded around the upper sleeves. Folded ribbons of the same make she found in the drawers below, using one to tie low on her waist as she had seen in her book. The other she made use of to braid back her hair.

The simple frock had no boning, no lacings - none of the restrictions of the courtly gowns she was accustomed to, leaving her to feel almost naked within it. Her fine silk stockings, the pearled slippers of her wedding attire seemed a modern extravagance when matched with the simplicity of the archaic gown, so Jane delved deeper into the cupboard to find a pair of woolen stockings and simple leather boots. But the boots, when she tried them on, were a size too small for her feet. For a moment, she had been nearly convinced that the clothing had appeared here by magic, but here lies the proof of their reality. Jane hid her own ill-matched slippers beneath the hem of the borrowed gown before steeling herself to step outside the small room. Finding no lock, no guard to bar her way, she stepped through the doorway to the hallway outside. 

In the light of day, the castle appeared in a state of great ruin. The towering stone archways had crumbled and wooden supports and doors had nearly rotted away with time and the absence of human hands. By contrast, the courtyard had grown thick and sprawling, and within the stone walls small tendrils of green emerged from any crevice where even the faintest sunbeam could reach them. Sometimes, even when they could not. It had lent the castle a wild and ancient appearance - uncivilized but beautiful all the same.

Jane descended the spiral staircase she had climbed before, making sure she remembered the pathway to the outside door. It was closed now, the torches of the front hallway unlit but for the sunlight that streamed through. Still, down this way appeared the first real signs of life in the castle. Jane heard the faint echo of both animal sounds and human voices in the distance, and followed their trail.

Despite this, she was still taken aback by the sudden appearance of two extravagantly dressed men before her - one older, one younger, with a clear family resemblance between them. They introduce themselves as the Lords John and Stanley Dudley, the Duke of Northumberland and his son. 

Jane recoiled at the sound of the infamous name. 

She straightened to accuse the man before her - “I was told it was you who was responsible for poisoning King Edward.”

King Edward’s death had left to The Lady Jane Grey an ill-fated and ultimately short-lived reign. It had also taken from her a most beloved cousin. She had hated the very name of his purported murderer.  

The elder Lord Dudley appeared only slightly ruffled at the accusation. “I heard you were quite clever, but clever people can also be quite foolish. Tell me this, my Lady - why would I kill our poor invalid King when I was his most trusted Counselor, and nigh ruled the Kingdom in his stead?” 

Jane was forced to concede there was no obvious rationality to this, though men did not often behave rationally. “What reasons had they to falsely accuse you of such a crime?”

If there were no motive for Lord Dudley to have killed the King, what motive was there in accusing him?

At this, the man looked more sheepish. “It was I who suggested to Edward that you succeed him.”

She gasped. Then the man was, in fact, guilty - if not of killing her cousin, then of sealing her own fate.

“So you are the reason Queen Mary has condemned me.” 

“I am only guilty of trying to keep a bloodthirsty tyrant from the throne,” he confessed.

“So then you are a beast as well,” Jane suggested.

“How preposterous!” The Lord Dudley exclaimed.

“My brother - ” The Lord Stan Dudley unintentionally revealed, and was rudely elbowed by his father in retribution.

Jane began to piece this mistaken admission together with what she knew so far - the nobility of her husband’s education, his courtly airs, his arrogance. 

“You are Guildford’s father.”

Lord Dudley reluctantly answered in the affirmative, though he refused to answer any further questions about his progeny, or what manner of beast he might be - if indeed he was one at all.  

“Then will you tell me where I might find him?” If her husband’s relatives would not answer her questions, perhaps the man himself still might.

“You won’t find him unless he wishes to be found.” The Lord Dudley rebuffed her with yet another riddle.

Jane realized the two men would be no further help, and hoped instead they might at least show her where she might find some food.

They pointed her down another staircase and swiftly took their leave, the father clearly admonishing his son for his accidental slip. The kitchens were simple enough for her to find, led by the sounds of many voices at work within. The people - for they did appear in human form - paid her very little mind as she slipped into the large room, handing her a small apple and some hard cheese before they shooed her from the work at hand. She retreated to the scullery, where she surreptitiously slid a small knife into her sleeve. The castle itself had seemed as safe as promised, but she had no intentions of staying trapped within its walls. She only needed to find a way out.

****

Jane had not expected to find so easy an exit. Though the outer doorways were barred, and likely guarded, the doors to the castle yards were left unbolted. No one troubled her as she made her way across the overgrown grounds, studying the castle’s barriers. She eventually happened upon a tall apple tree growing just near the outer walls. Jane had not climbed one’s branches since she was a small child, but she found she remembered it well enough - though her pearled slippers suffered in the ascent, leaving a scattering of small white beads on the ground below her. Far more difficult was getting down from the wall, which stood several meters high even where it had suffered some previous bombardment. 

But, not wishing to be caught atop the wall, she risked a tumble to the soft earth below. Jane winced a little as old hurts resurfaced in the fall, her bruised ankle worst of all. Still, she was able to walk, and she set about to find the woods from the night before. She wished to retrace her steps back to the White Horse Stone where she had been made a sacrifice. If she were able to find it, she could then easily find the road she had been brought in on. Though returning to London would be dangerous, it was the only place she could hope to find any ally - her previously sheltered life and the brevity of her reign greatly limited the number of friends she might seek to aid her. But perhaps if she traveled some small distance away from the road, she could re-enter the city unobserved. She had just had to remain out of sight.

A hawk circled overhead - was it the one from the evening before? Jane hurried towards a copse of trees, hoping to hide herself beneath its canopy. She quickly lost sight of the bird, and hoped that it had lost sight of her as well. She pressed on, trying to discern which direction she might have come from last night. Jane vividly remembers the view of the castle she had first had as they emerged from the trees, and she can see the same view now in the daylight, but how had they gotten here? Which way had they traveled in the dark?

Jane understood quickly that she was woefully unprepared for the journey ahead, not having truly expected to make it this far on her first try. She did not recognize her way in these woods, and she had only her small rations of food and no water or warm cloak. The sound of a branch snapping in the distance reminded her she also had no real weapon but for the small knife she had stolen from the kitchen. She held it more tightly within her grasp, hoping that she would not need to make use of it. She moved more swiftly through the copse now, looking back every few steps to assure herself she wasn’t followed. She did not see the hunter’s snare until it was wrapped around her neck. 

Jane was trapped, the unseen snare tightening around her throat the more she tried to free herself. She reached up to cut at the rope with her knife, but the anchoring wire was placed behind her where she could not see or reach so readily. With each attempt, her breath was cut short by the tightening of the rope. She clawed at the noose, trying everything she could think of to loosen it but to no avail.

Just then, she felt the presence of a gentle hand at the back of her neck, another taking the knife from her hand. Jane had no more breath to fight, and she was forced to submit to her fate. But instead of pain, she felt the slight wriggling of the rope at her throat, heard the sounds of coarse threads being cut. Within moments she was free. She turned to face her savior.

A young woman, only a little older than herself, with curling red hair and familiar eyes.

“Susannah?” Jane wondered aloud. Could it really have been her friend from so long ago? 

The woman’s eyes brightened slightly which Jane took as confirmation, and she rushed to embrace the companion of her youth.

“The hawk - it was you, wasn’t it?” Jane asked, a muffled ‘yes’ was breathed into her neck.

“Why didn’t you show yourself to me before, when I saw you last night?” Jane stepped back to look upon her friend, so different and yet the same as she had remembered.

“I wasn’t sure if you would remember me,” Susannah half smiled.

“How could I have forgotten you?” 

Susannah’s smile widened further, and then she grinned. “Last night you seemed rather distracted by your new husband.”

Jane blushed to realize her old friend, and perhaps some of the other residents of the castle, may have overheard them last night. 

“There’s no need for that,” her friend assured her, brushing her knuckles across Jane’s burning cheek. “It’s only us birds who spend much time on the upper floors, the other beasties prefer to stay below. There’s almost no one on the third floor, but Rabbit offered up her room when she heard bonny Queen Jane was coming to stay with us.”

“I’m a Queen no more,” Jane lamented. She thinks back to the night before, the small grey bunny that had led her to the room. “Is Rabbit a…?”

“Of course,” Susannah laughed. “She’s been out here so long she stopped going by her human name. I’ve heard she used to be the royal dressmaker, half a century ago. Still has the hands for it, and always says how she misses the old styles.”

Jane looked down at her dress, the style of it having gone out of fashion far more than a century ago.

“Just how old is Rabbit?”

“Not so old as you’re thinking - we’re no conjurers. But out here there’s nothing to stop her indulging her fancies, though the rest of us prefer our modern clothes.”

Susannah herself was dressed much as Jane remembers her, in a brown overdress that ties at the front and cinches at the waist, with a green vest atop it. Her hair was only loosely tied back and left untamed, missing the cap and apron of her former station. Jane could see the work of many delicate repairs to the garment, and imagined this too was Rabbit’s doing. 

“I’m the lookout, of course, which is how I spotted you trying to make a run for it.”

A small sadness filled her that her old friend had now become her jailer. Susannah immediately sensed the change in her companion.

“These woods are dangerous, Jane. The Kingsland guard know better than to try to attack us here, but they’ve littered the woods with traps. They think of us as no more than ignorant beasts.” 

Jane rubbed at her neck and considered how easily she fell into such a trap - despite her human intelligence.

“Where can I go that would be safe?”

“The safest place for any of us is the castle, your husband makes sure of that. But before you go asking me any questions about him, it’s not my place to tell.”

“Can you tell me why I was brought here?”

“For that you’ll have to ask Archer, when he returns.”

Jane remembered hearing the name Archer years ago, the absent noble son of Baron Hundson. The name was often maligned as the terrible leader of the beastly hordes, but less had been heard of him as rumors of a more monstrous King had taken hold.

“When might I meet him?”

“You already have. But he’ll return in a few days time, you’ll see.”

Jane puzzled over the claim that she had already met with him, she had no recollection of meeting any man called Archer. But then it came to her - perhaps she had not met him as a man. 

“The bear from last night?” Jane had been certain the beast that had carried her to the castle could not have been a natural creature. 

“You catch on quick,” Susannah faintly praised.

Jane wondered at why he did not simply introduce himself to her last night, but none of the castle residents had then appeared to her in human form. Perhaps they had merely tried to avoid her questions, as Susannah and the Dudleys also had. Was whatever Guildford was truly so horrible? 

The question occupied most of her thoughts even as Susannah led her back to the castle. Jane was given a tour of the fortress, and some additional food, as she caught up with her old friend. She was introduced to many of the previously unseen residents of the castle - including Rabbit, who seemed pleased to have even a former Queen wear the garments that she had made herself again. Jane had hoped to discover more about why she had been brought here, perhaps from another accidental slip from another of the beasts.  But as night fell she had learned no more of substance about her phantom husband.

**** 

When she finally returned to her room, she considered whether or not to forgo the blindfold that night. She had no reason to obey his request, other than for the small chance he might return and answer some of her questions. This seemed unlikely, as he had avoided so many of her questions on the previous night.

There was also the other possibility that he might again take her into his arms and enjoin them. Jane shivered at the memory of his touch - his body pressed deep inside her, filling her senses so completely in a way she had never imagined possible. She had not expected his desire for her, or that she might match it with her own.

Equally unexpected to her was the way she already craved the stranger’s presence once more. It was this, as much as any hope of attaining her answers, that convinced her to do as she was bid. Jane dressed for bed, tying the blindfold around her own eyes, and waited in the darkness for her bridegroom.

Jane was made to wait for many hours, until she was nearly asleep. She had just begun to drift off when she felt the bed dip behind her, and a familiar form pressed against her back. Her lover’s lips touched the nape of her neck, and his fingers traced along the evidence of her encounter with the snare.  

“Where were you?” She inquired of her stranger.

“I could not be sure you would oblige my request for the blindfold,” his words ghosted over her ear, breath warm and tingling against her skin. “You certainly did not heed my advice to stay within the castle walls.”

“You did not heed my words that I would not be made prisoner again,” she remonstrated, even as her body pressed back into his touch.

“I am not the one holding you captive here - I hope that you can believe me now.” His fingers trailed down to tease at her clavicle.

“How can I believe you when you tell me so little?” She turned her body to face him, though she could not see his face.

He pulled her into his arms. “I have told you as much as I can for now, can’t you accept that?”  

“What if not knowing is more frightening than knowing?” She asked.

“What if it isn't?” He answers back. “I will tell you all you wish to know soon enough. But let me enjoy my bride one more night.”

Jane felt her pulse quicken at his words, and nodded her assent even though a large part of her still wished to argue further. She could wait a little while longer for her answers, at least, there would be plenty of time to talk after their bodies were sated. 

But her lover was in no hurry to slake their shared desire. He took his time to work her hair loose from its braid, combing his fingers through her long chestnut curls in a way that sent a delightful tingle across her scalp. She relaxed into his touch, allowed herself to be guided back against the pillows of their bridal bed.

Once her tresses were freed to his liking, she felt his lips dip down to gently map along her features - her smooth forehead, her blindfolded eyes, her flushing cheeks and elfin chin, even the soft tip of her nose. This drew an unexpected laugh from the former Queen, a sound that was quickly swallowed up as his lips finally pressed to hers. 

Again he seemed to bask in the leisure of the gesture, lips moving slowly against hers, learning their shape and their taste by heart. With his tongue he traced across the seam of her lips, dipping in to curl against her own. Jane felt herself grow dizzy from the indulgent kiss, nearly forgetting to breathe as his hands cradled her face to his, hers drawing him deeper into her. 

When he broke from their kiss it was only to then taste the skin of her throat, lips trailing along the line of her jaw, the arch of her neck. A gentle scrape of his teeth drew a sharp gasp from her, as did a soft bite to her collarbone. He kissed across the pale skin of her chest and shoulders that lay bared by her chemise, but trailed down no further. Instead, he set to work on her hands, pressing a kiss to each of her fingertips, her palms, and biting gently at her knuckles. Jane could practically feel the beat of her heart thrumming against his lips as he pressed a tender kiss to the inside of each wrist. Her arms were treated with similar relish, and Jane laughed as his lips dragged along the ticklish skin just above her elbow. 

Jane mirrored his actions, drawing his free hand to her lips and mapping its shape. His hands were broader than her own, strong, though equally gentle and agile - as he had shown her. His fingers and palms were lightly callused, used to labor but not only to this. She could imagine his fingers tracing lines of Greek and Latin text - though perhaps only in translation, as his Odýsseia had been. But they were warm and real and he chuckled when she bit at his fingers, less gently than he had done to her. Another, softer bite to the meat of his palm drew a pleased sound from her unseen lover.

This night, he again removed his own clothing before attempting to draw off her chemise - perhaps having already learned she desired fairness in all things. For this she was glad. Jane pulled her unclad husband against her own naked form, savoring the warmth and weight of his body against hers. 

Though her husband was not yet done with his explorations. Strong fingers traced the outline of her breasts, the softness of her belly, before his lips joined them to bring the tips of her breasts to stiffened peaks. His fingers cupped at the soft underside while his teeth tugged gently at the sensitive tips. It was as though each point were directly connected to the ache building between her thighs, and Jane writhed beneath him. Her fingers tugged none too gently at his hair as she tried to hold him more tightly to her breasts.  

But his lips continued their trail down further, tracing across her ribs and down to the soft skin of her belly, broad hands holding her hips in place as he leisurely explored her. His tongue dipped teasingly into her navel, halting her breath. With each touch she felt her something rolling and warm uncurl in her stomach. His teeth bit gently into the jut of each hip, and she arched into the sharp sensation of it. His tongue swept across the crease of her pelvis, and Jane was lost in the thought that he might bring his lips and tongue to where she ached for him.

Instead, he drew away, and made his way to the end of the bed where he pressed a small kiss to each ankle. Despite Jane’s pleas, and attempts to draw him back up to her, her phantom lover continued this exquisite torture, trailing lips and teeth along the lines of her bared legs. He discovered the ticklish spot on the inside of her knee, and the sound of her moan as his teeth bit into the softness of her inner thigh. Jane felt as though she would shake apart before he ever even reached her the apex of her thighs.

The first lave of his tongue against her sex has her nearly arching off the bed, but strong hands held her steady as she reveled in his touch. Jane could feel the soft hum of his mouth against her, proof that he too was savoring her taste, her scent. Each broad stroke and every delicate flick of his tongue coiled the desire tighter within her belly, her eyes pressed shut against the onslaught. Her lover brought her to new heights of pleasure with the work of his mouth against her, inside her - until she could handle no more, shuddering apart on his tongue. Any shame at the thought of being overhead by the castle’s other residents was quickly forgotten as Jane cried out her pleasure.

Her lover held her gently through it, soothing her trembling limbs and leaning up to press a tender kiss to her lips. She savored the taste of herself on his lips, and deepened their kiss.

When she had recovered, Jane attempted to repeat the slow mapping of her husband’s body. Though she found it more difficult with her blindfold, as well as her own impatience. Still, she delighted in the sounds she could draw from him with teeth and tongue along his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest and belly until he was panting beneath her. She sought to map the shape of his unfamiliar sex with fingers and tongue, feeling her husband trembling below with the effort to stay still for her. Her lips wrapped around him and she heard a deep, rumbling groan in response. A hand threaded through her hair, not pushing but rather making sure she did not attempt too much. Jane’s own contrary nature nearly reared its awful head at the gesture, but she quickly understood the good sense of not taking on too much this first time.

It was with shuddering breath that her lover drew her away, and led her to lie back once more beneath him. She could feel the hard length of him pressed in anticipation against her hips, and her own readiness to meet him. Any soreness from their previous lovemaking was long forgotten, as he pressed deeply inside her once more. The slow, easy rhythm of his hips against her own brought her steadily once again toward the precipice of her pleasure, until she was near exhausted with the efforts of her trembling limbs to pull him deeper, force him to move more quickly against her. Though he would not succumb to her pleas - breathed hotly into the space between their lips - the steady pace of him brought her almost inexorably over the edge, the slow waves of pleasure washing over her in near endless succession. He withdrew sharply before he was pulled under by her own pleasure, spending against the tender crease of her hip.

Jane felt her husband leave the bed briefly, only to come back with a damp cloth to run over heated skin and clear away the mess that lay between them. After, he drew her back into his arms and pressed his lips again to her face, and ran his fingers through her hair. Jane found herself drifting off to sleep before she could again ask the question she both dreaded and longed for the answer to.

****

Each morning she met again with her old friend, becoming reacquainted with the Susannah who no longer needed to hide her true nature. The outer walls of the castle were newly fortified where she had once made her escape, but she was allowed to freely roam the rest of the grounds within the stone barrier. Jane was even given over the care of a small medicinal herb garden, and allowed what supplies could be spared from the kitchens to start the beginnings of a small apothecary. Jane had never been one to remain idle for long, and she longed to be useful to those whom she now regarded as her fellow prisoners.

Every night she asked her husband the same question - what manner of creature was he? - and every night he put off answering. He distracted her with long, slow hours of lovemaking, with questions about her life before she came here, even with some small admissions about his own life - but he never answered the one question that gnawed mostly heavily at her mind. Jane decided to try a new question tonight.

“Tell me then - something about yourself, something this blindfold hides from me.”

He laughed at her newest form of interrogation. “Such as?”

Jane struggled to come up with a meaningful question. She settled on, “what color are your eyes?”

“A very dull brown,” he teased.

“Don’t say that - tell me they’re golden in the sunlight, or that they’re flecked with emerald hue.”

“Do you wish for poetry or the truth?”

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth…” She quoted.

“If it’s a poem you wish for, then I’ll oblige:

Pluto, Venus from her Mount survey'd 

Now fearless, and her son embracing, said. 

O thou, my arms, my glory, and my pow'r,

My son, whom men, and deathless Gods adore;

Bend thy sure bow, whose arrows never miss'd,

No longer let Hell's king thy sway resist;”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat at the words. What was he telling her?

“Is that why I’m here, were you so struck by Cupid’s arrows?”

He laughed again. “Perhaps I am Eros himself, here to save a mortal girl from a more beastly fate by taking her as my bride.”

“What more beastly fate is there than that?” She attempted to mock him back.

But her husband’s words became more serious. “The fate that awaited you had you stayed in your own world - the fate you took on when you tried to help us.” 

Lady Jane knows the truth of this. She had been accused of treason for promoting unity with the beasts, and had been held in the Tower for nearly a year by Queen Mary. It would have only been a matter of time before Jane’s own supporters drove her ruthless cousin to send her to the executioner’s block. Her marriage had spared her that cruel end, at least.

And so she did not fight it when her ephemeral lover pulled her tight into his embrace, hands stroking at her hair and once again lulling her questioning mind to sleep.

****

Jane awakened in the darkness, alone, to the terrible clashing steel, the growling of beasts and men at the walls below her window. But above it all, she heard a noise far more frightening to her ears. 

The sound of a monstrous roar.

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth” is a quote by Plato

The poem was taken from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book V, translated by George Sandys/John Dryden and modified.

[n0sewise]

I was tagged by @recents on my main blog for WIP Wednesday, so I’m posting here on my side blog since this is where I post writing/fandom stuff. I’m tagging everyone and no one bc I’m too anxious to individually tag people (//∇//)

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my killugon royalty au. Super rough and it needs way more fleshing out, but I think you can still get the idea from what’s here:

Kurapika wasn’t all that bad. Gon actually quite liked his tutor, and he’d come highly recommended to Aunt Mito as a fine scholar and an even brighter teacher. Even now, his smooth voice carried pleasantly throughout the room as he lectured Gon on something about fish. Fishing, probably. The Eastern Coast was known for its plentiful fish, having the good fortune of being located in the middle of the Gulf of Mobius. Or was it the Western Coast? One of the coasts, anyway. He’d only just gotten back from visiting a neighbouring earl’s daughter in the east, and Gon had quite liked the beaches. There hadn’t been much time to explore; there were dances and feasts, and the earl had wanted him to get to know his—

“Prince Gon?”

“Sorry, what?”

Kurapika’s delicate brows knit together in a pinched crease on his forehead. “I asked if you could tell me why Kujira stations our naval forces on the Eastern Coast only.”

”Oh,” said Gon. He thought for a moment. It would have something to do with fish, wouldn’t it? Kurapika had been talking about fish, and about—

He was saved from answering by a frenzied knock at the heavy, cypress door.

It was Zushi once again, and breathing hard like he’d run the entire way there.

“Your Excellency,” he panted, nodding at Kurapika. “Your Royal Highness, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but the Queen wishes to see the prince.” He straightened up from his deep bow. “She’s in her chambers,” he added. “It’s urgent.”

Gon could hardly fight his grin.

”I really should—“

”Just go,” said Kurapika with a dismissive gesture.

Aunt Mito’s chambers were all the way on the other end of the palace, and nearly the complete and polar opposite of Kurapika’s study. They were bright and airy, with long sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze, and nearly every surface was decorated with a flowering plant or vine of some sort. Gon smiled when he spotted his mother busily tending to one of her plants, imbuing it with her own sparkling energy until its leaves were plump and vibrant with life.

“Aunt Mito? You wanted to see me?”

“Gon!” She turned and met him with a bone crushing hug once he was within reach.

“Is everything okay? Zushi said it was urgent.”

She waved a hand impatiently, her armful of bangles and charms clacking all the while, and laughed him off. “That boy is so serious,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong, but I’ve received another courtship proposal, and—“

Gon couldn’t help it, he wilted on the spot the moment the word courtship left her mouth.

”Aunt Mito, this is the eighth one this year, and it’s only April!”

”It’s only April and you’ve turned down eight perfectly nice options!” she countered. “Come sit,” she said, moving over to settle on her bed. “Sweetheart, I really think you’ll like this one.”

Gon collapsed next to her, falling back onto Aunt Mito’s soft blankets with a grunt.

”You said that last time,” he reminded her. “And it’s okay, I didn’t mind meeting her at all! I thought Noko was a very nice girl!”

”She was,” Aunt Mito agreed, “but I really do think you’ll want to see this next one. He’s a prince just like you,” she added. “So you’ll have that much in common.”

”Sure,” he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel. “I’ll go look. It can’t hurt, right?”

”Wonderful! The Padokean emissaries are already waiting for you to approve.”

Gon blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Aunt Mito could only smile helplessly. “They were insistent that their prince’s portrait be viewed in the best possible light, and I wouldn’t let them have the throne room for it.”

”All that for a painting? I’ll meet him, if that’s what you’re asking, Aunt Mito.” He’d already pushed himself up into a seated position, but even from this angle, she was hard to read, a funny sort of smirk twitching on her lips.

“There’s no need for that, Gon,” she said. “Just go and have a look and you can let me know if you’d like us to make arrangements. The emissaries are in the courtyard.”

Weird, thought Gon as he walked through the palace. All that fuss for a painting seemed excessive, but he’d promised Aunt Mito. Padokea rang a distant bell in the back of his mind, and he remembered that it had been in one of the readings Kurapika had wanted him to finish. Nothing to do about it now, he figured, already smiling as he stepped back out and into the sunshine. He’d reached the courtyard.

The emissaries were indeed waiting for him outside. There were two of them, and they looked woefully out of place under the warm blanket of Kujiran sunlight. Both wore sharply tailored jackets with stiff high collars that covered their necks entirely. They stood among the jacaranda trees, solemnly holding what must have been the painting under a dark veil of fabric.

“Your Royal Highness,” said the one on the right, bowing his head.

“Oh, hi,” said Gon. They still hadn’t lowered the painting, and he wondered if their arms ever got tired. “You know you can put that down, right?”

The second emissary looked at him, and despite maintaining a rather stoic expression, Gon could see her lip curl ever so slightly in what he could only assume was disgust.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!”

”We have been entrusted with the safe passage of our crown prince’s portrait,” she sniffed. “Its beauty shall never touch the ground beneath our feet.”

”Uhhh,” said Gon. “Okay, well whenever you’re ready, I guess?”

Both of them straightened immediately, standing even more stiffly than before. With a sweeping motion of his arm, the first man began to speak.

“Prince Gon of Kujira, we present to you The Crown Prince of Padokea, First of His Name, Heir to the Throne of Shadows, and Pride of the Zoldyck Family: His Royal Highness Prince Killua Zoldyck.”

And Gon hardly had enough time to reflect on either the lengthy title, or how the emissary managed to say all of that without taking a single breath, because his partner had already pulled the veil from the painting, and there, looking out at him from a gleaming silver frame, was the most beautiful boy he’d ever laid eyes on.

Gon’s breath caught in his throat as he stared. Immediately he understood why the emissaries had insisted on unveiling it among the jacaranda trees. Anything less would’ve been an insult to the boy in the painting. He gazed haughtily out of the frame at Gon, his sharp, elfin features frozen in a bored, half-lidded expression. It was hard to know where to look, Gon realized, his gaze roving every which way. There was the sharp angle of the prince’s jawline, softened only by his full, pouting lips. The prince’s hair too, was striking in its own right. It was entirely white, like the smooth, sun bleached colour of a seashell, framing his face in messy waves. In the end it was his eyes that Gon couldn’t look away from. They were large and blue, and framed by a set of long, silver eyelashes that lent him the appearance of something not quite human staring out from behind his frame.

One of the emissaries cleared their throat.

“Is he to your liking then?”

Gon forced a laugh and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck as he grinned.

”Yeah—I mean yes. Yes. He’s…” he trailed off. “Send the letter. Please. I’d very much like to meet him.”

An odd sort of smile twitched at the edge of the shorter emissary’s mouth, and she hid it before he could comment.

“Very well,” she said. “We’ll notify the royal family.”