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sirxaibs · 1 day ago

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Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.

#keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia X reader #bnha x reader #Mha X reader #various x reader

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bomberqueen17 · 3 days ago

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continuing

I had decided that my strange periodic insomnia was caused by alcohol-- even half a beer and i found myself in bed at 10, tossing and turning until 11:30, waking at 1 and being up for the day.

But it's now happened twice this week, after I gave up alcohol entirely two weeks ago. so. it's not the booze. mayhap i will not-celebrate with a beer. :(

Anyway. Apart from that, I have also fallen entirely off the wagon of attempting to make to-do lists. I was trying, and then finding I would do a random assortment of things anyway, and then I was having the best appearance of success by going back at the end of the day in filling in the to-do list with the things I had already done, and then checking them off. very satisfying, but not actually in any way useful. like.... i could try to get a better idea of what i can get done in a day, was my thought, but then i don't know that that's actually useful.

the problem is. i still don't know how to either make or follow a to-do list. they are not useful to me. i can appreciate them, but i cannot follow them. the medication I'm taking is supposed to start showing effects in another week, so we'll see then. I've had many of the side effects for a while now, though most of them have settled in. I eat a lot of fiber and drink a lot of water now, which is probably generally good for me idk.

But! I think part of my problem with to-do lists is that I have been writing, and at a fairly furious pace, and somewhat-obsessively, and so it's not surprising that other things are falling by the wayside.

I am trying, therefore, to make a goal, to finish the draft of this novel by March. This seems like a reasonable goal, and seems like a thing I would do anyway, and so making it a goal is sort of pointless, but it feels like a useful thing to do anyway?

I would be very excited to actually finish a draft of the novel.

It will need edits, and structural ones, but I don't know how to do that, but I don't have to know how to do that yet. By finishing the draft I will know how it ends, and will be able to go back and prune it into a shape that actually supports the ending.

The ending is... setting up for a sequel, alas, but, that's not all bad. I realized I couldn't wrap the whole thing up without cutting out most of what I'd written to step up the pace a lot, and I don't want to do that. I think it's got plenty of meat in it and makes sense to be.... maybe not quite that long but mostly that long. And the sequel is extremely complex and involves a bunch more characters, so I might as well just start fresh.

Anyway. It would be super rad to finish a draft and then edit. I have only done this a few times in my life and it would give me a lot of new skills. So-- March, is my goal. I can set goals!

We'll see.

#about the author #my writing #life update

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ann-writes-universes · 1 day ago

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Archangel (AzrielxReader) REMASTER Pt. 4

A/N: Annnndddd the next parts will be NEW. Thank you all again, from the deepest parts of me <3

W/C: IDK prob like 4.3k again.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Violence (As always let me know if I forgot anything.)

“So you’ve made progress with her?”

“Something like that…”

“I wouldn’t call it progress, Amren.”

“Shut up Azriel,” Amren spit in reply “She’s gotten better than when we started a month ago.”

“I worry about her being in that cabin alone.” Rhysand spoke from his desk, his hands folded under his chin. A crease had taken up permanent residence in between his brows since the beginning of this discussion with his friends and It was growing deeper the more they argued over the Beddor sister.

“We are with her nearly every day, Rhysand.” Azriel reminded him softly from his spot by the door. He leaned against the wall, lazily twirling Truthteller in his left hand.

“And when we aren’t, she writes us or bakes. It’s not like she’s going insane out there.” Amren chided, pulling her legs beneath her in the chair she sat in before Rhysand’s desk. She was staring him down, willing him to listen to her.

“Yes, but Feyre…”

“Feyre is not (y/n), Rhysand.” Azriel butted in, promptly stopping his motions with his blade to stare his brother down.

“Yes, I know.” Rhysand swallowed, narrowing his gaze on Azriel’s features. As always, they were guarded, hard to read. “But she worries.”

“If time is what the girl wants, give it to her.” Amren concluded, bracing herself on the arms of the chair as she made to stand up and leave. With a singular motion of his hand Rhysand dismissed her idea and had her settling back in her seat.

“Seal the room Az.” And with those words, a thick wall of shadows had encapsulated the room and all threes’ mental shields had been snapped into place.

“With it becoming increasingly clear that all three of them, gained something from the cauldron, I worry that Hybern will come after them. The cabin is safe but Feyre wants (y/n) here, for her own peace of mind,” He cleared his throat then and shifted uncomfortably in his seat “I feel like it would be good for yours as well, Brother.”

The males’ eyes met and Azriel’s jaw tightened. Amren glanced between the two of them, her eyes slowly widening.

“I didn’t even smell it on you Az.” She whispered, twisting her body to face him more fully. He was nervously flipping the blade around now, an emotion that didn’t suit his collected exterior.

“That’s because it hasn’t been accepted.” Rhysand spoke, his voice soft.

“Are you going to tell her?”

Azriel looked to the floor and sheathed his knife, a crease akin to Rhysand’s taking place on his face. After a moment he shook his head softly and ran his hands through his hair, he was agitated.

“No. No, I can’t.”

“You saw how that plan of action went for me… Feyre hardly spoke to me when I finally told her.” It was a gentle reminder from the High lord, but it irritated the spymaster none the less.

“Feyre and (y/n) are different, Rhysand. She has hardly accepted the fact that she’s a fae with capabilities we hardly understand. How do you think she would take it if I told her she was cosmically tied to me by the hands of a creator she doesn’t even believe in?”

Amren and Rhysand both went lax at Azriel’s words, understanding marked their features but a thick air of unease had settled over the room. Shadows picked nervously at Azriel’s shoulders, informing him that the other residents of the townhouse had grown anxious at the trios prolonged absence.

“Feyre wants to know what’s going on Rhys.”

“And I will tell her, but this is your decision to make.”

“No. Its not. Its (y/n)’s.”

Rhysand nodded grimly at his brother’s words and with a sigh he leaned back in his chair, twisting it to face the window that led out to the courtyard beyond. The snow was melting with the fast-approaching Spring and Elain’s flowers were struggling to bloom.

“She needs to know what kind of danger she is potentially in. If Hybern can track the couldron’s magic he will do everything in his power to get the three of them back.” Amren spoke, her eyes were distantly trained on the carpet, her hands tapping a mindless melody on the wooden chair’s arm. “I think it would be smart to train her in combat.”

“Absolutely not.” Azriel snapped, pushing away from the wall he leaned on.

“No… she’s right Az. We will do everything in our power to keep her safe, but war is coming wether we like it or not. Her magic is young and from what you both have told me, her ability to harness it is 30/70.” Rhysand’s eyes were distant too, mulling over the melting snow and muddy grass.

“I don’t think she’s ready to be thrown into a ring with Cas and taught to fight. She’s done enough of that.”

“And what happened to it being her decision?” Amren whispered, her gaze finally finding the wide-eyed stare of the Shadowsinger. “What about it being hers?”

---

The fire crackled in the hearth, warming the cabin and casting lazy shadows on the living room. From your spot on the couch, you watched with little intrigue as the light flickered about the room.

Joining in with the ember’s glow was a small white light, that zipped about and searched the cabin readily. From the outside, darkened windows would light up from within briefly before going dark once more. You watched this little light with a soft smile before calling it back to your palm, relishing in the warmth it created there before dying out.

“Impressive.” Amren cooed, happily stretched out on a chase lounge, mindlessly sipping the tea you had made for her when she had arrived moments before.

“Thank you, not sure how it’s useful but it’s kind of cool.” You replied, letting your gaze find hers finally. She was a picture of relaxation, splayed across the furniture, sipping her tea and twirling her short hair with a ringed finger.

“What is it Amren?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” You sat up a little, shifting the blanket over your legs “But you’ve never come out here so late.” She smiled tightly at your words and sat up herself, bracing her forearms on her knees as she stared at you.

“How would you feel about coming back to Velaris?”

It caught you off guard, and she knew as much from the way your face blanked and your eyes shot to the fire once more.

“I know you still don’t feel ready but-“

“Im not.”

“(Y/n)…”

“Amren. I have enjoyed you and Azriel’s company. I have appreciated Rhysand and Feyre’s generosity but a part of me being able to heal is not having to watch them every day.” Your hands were fiddling with the frayed edges of the blanket, your mind slowly beginning to drift to a far away place.

“I understand, and I wouldn’t be asking you to return if I didn’t feel it necessary for your safety.”

Your stomach flipped.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Amren sighed and looked to the flames, running a delicate hand over the linen fabric of her pants. How was she not cold?

“When you and the Archeron sisters were… made. Hybern didn’t anticipate for the three of you to take things from the cauldron. Rhysand worries that Hybern will try and track your magic and…” She trailed off, a tight line replacing her easy-going smile.

“And what Amren?”

“And reclaim it.”

The finality in her words turned your spine into steel. With shaky hands you tossed the blanket aside and stood. Your hands rubbed over your face and suddenly your mind was racing with millions of questions.

“Will he?”

“Hmm?”

“Will Hybern try and take it from me?”

“We don’t know for sure, but Fe- Rhysand thinks it would be safer for you in Velaris, its impossible to penetrate those wards and its closer to us if anything were to happen.”

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest. Mulling over the possibilities and the smart thing to do.

No part of you wanted to be surrounded by seawater and concrete again and yet, the possibility of being in that house, watching as your dream was lived by someone other than you seemed just as suffocating. Amren watched as you paced the room, giving you time to think and praying that Azriel wasn’t freezing to death wherever he was outside.

You had summoned that little light again, and it was flitting nervously about the room. Soft plink, plink, plinks sounding each time it careened with a window and bounced off of it. Summoning it back to you, you let it dance between your fingers, grounding yourself in the warmth it produced.

“I’ll go.”

“You will?”

“I’ll go.”

“Rhysand has offered for you to stay in the house of Wind. It’s away from the city and large enough for you to have privacy. He has also asked if you would be willing to train in self-defense with Cassian.” Amren was standing now, watching you with a soft smile. It was encouraging, bordering on pleading.

You nodded your head and urged the light to die away in your palm, the warmth quickly receding.

“When will we leave?”

“Tonight.”

The House of Wind was breathtaking.

Cassian had flown you in, and you had been met with Rhysand who gave you a private tour of the luxurious quarters you would be living in. It was open, airy, and entirely unlike the cramped space you had envisioned when Amren explained that it was built into a mountain.

That little revelation had nearly made you change your mind, though now you were glad you hadn’t.

“There are sparring grounds on the roof where Cassian will train with you. Nothing too insane I promise.” Rhysand chuckled, guiding you back to the main living space. Jasmine and clean linen permeated the air, and the warming breeze of the spring was drifting through the open windows.

“No one else is staying here, correct?”

“No one who will bother you. Cassian lives here year round, and per Elain’s request Lucien has been sent here for some… distance.”

You nodded and sunk into a chair in the living area the tour had stopped in. Rhysand perched on the arm of a chair opposite of you and folded his hands on a knee. His brows were furrowed as he watched your eyes roam over the room, your shoulders slumped and your teeth mulling over a hang nail anxiously.

“Whats on your mind?”

And when you caught his gaze a breath snagged in your throat. It looked the same as it had that night in your family home. Concern, if not pity, was flashing in those violet eyes and you looked away from them, a hard knot forming in the center of your chest. Clearing your throat, you shook your head and forced a smile. It felt out of place, plastic on your features.

“Nothing. A bit tired and overwhelmed is all, thank you for the tour, I think I will be going to bed now.”

He didn’t push the subject any further, but as you stood and made your way to the room, he had deemed yours, you felt a pair of eyes boring holes into your back.

“Please quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Azriel replied, lazily leaned against a rocky wall in the hallway.

“Like Im some kind of four eyed freak.” You grumbled, shoving past him towards the stairs. Your hair was braided neatly and the trousers and top you wore were tightly fitted, a sharp contrast to the oversized knits you had been sporting since your arrival in the Night court.

‘Not having fabric in your way is more conducive to noobie training’ Cassian had said the night before. Though part of you felt as though it was some plot to see if you were actually shaped like something other than a worn out cardigan.

“Ive just never seen you so….”

“Defeated?”

“Encouraged. I have never seen you so encouraged.”

You stopped, a foot on the stairs and turned halfway to face him. He had followed you, light on his feet as ever and was stopped a few paces away from the stairs himself. His brow was creased and those almond-colored eyes were searching yours, for what you weren’t sure.

“Azriel, what the fuck does that even mean.” You replied, a brow raised.

“Just that you don’t look entirely miserable about a five AM training session with the biggest Illyrian known to man. You look almost… excited.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, hyper aware of his shadow as you began to ascend the stairs to the roof. Excited was certainly not the word to describe the feeling you had as you were met with the gentle glow of the rising sun and the bright beam of Cassian’s smile.

Terrified would be a better term to fit the current mood.

“Have you ever played with Knives before?” Cassian questioned from his place on the roof.

Yes, terrified.

“This ought to be great.” Azriel grumbled, moving to his seat outside of the sparring ring. He was meant to mediate, make sure you didn’t get killed. You had thought that notion absolutely absurd when he brought it up first thing in the hallway, but as Cassian unsheathed a knife from his thigh and turned his wolfish gaze on your frame, you stiffened.

Yes, terrified was a much better word.

“Do I look like someone who has played with Knives much?” You choked out, swallowing thickly. Had your throat been this dry all morning?

Cassian ran his eyes over you, no doubt taking in the absurdity of the way you looked. Some weight had begun to return to your frame, but by no means had your figure recovered from the past year. In comparison to the general you were tiny, fragile. His brows furrowed and his smirk loosened to a softened smile. Sighing he sheathed the knife and walked towards you, his hands on his hips.

“No. No you dont.” He glanced at Azriel, who merely shrugged and leaned back in his chair, basking in the rising warmth of the morning sun. His wings were splayed behind him and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. “Thanks for the help, Brother.”

You watched the two of them, your own arms crossed over your chest protectively. Cassian seemed to be weighing his options, trying to figure out how to teach you something when you knew absolutely nothing. His brows were furrowed tightly as he thought and he had taken up a position similar to yours, arms crossed over his chest, legs stanced as he leaned into his hip.

You were growing antsy, anxious at the thought of being helpless in even such a docile situation. Azriel was in his own world, eyes closed and chest rising slower and slower. Great, you had bored him to sleep and Cassian looked pissed because this seemed to be wasting his time.

With no further thought you shot forward, using the size difference between you and the general to snatch his sheathed weapon and duck away from his swinging arm, a violent habit encoded in his warrior brain.

“What the fuck?!” He shouted as you crashed to the ground on your knees, clutching the blade in your left hand firmly. You were panting, absolutely in shock you had pulled that off. Cassian had spun towards you and was staring at you wide eyed.

From his spot, Azriel opened a single eye and chuckled at the sight before shutting it once more. Standing, you dusted off your knees and handed the blade back.

“Now. Please quit standing there and teach me something.” You huffed, resting your hands on your hips. Cassian stared down at you, the blade resting in his hand loosely. Spinning it back into place at his thigh he merely nodded and motioned for you to step into the ring.

“Well little Beddor. We’ll start with defense since you apparently have a death wish.”

–

Pain.

Every fiber of your body ached and groaned as you walked down the stairs. It had been four hours of training on the roof, a “short” day Cassian had said. How he was so unfazed, trailing behind you, you were unsure. At some point he had discarded his shirt and the only sign he had even been outside was a slight glimmer of sweat on his toned chest. Azriel had stayed the entire time, watching, sleeping, and making comments on form and technique when he thought necessary.

“You did well (Y/N).” Cassian spoke, clapping your shoulder with a firm hand. You winced at the impact but nodded and bid he and Azriel farewell before slinking to the safety of your room. All you wanted was to peel the sweat sticky clothing off of your body and run a bath. Every inch of your skin was caked in red dust from the roof and the grime was beginning to make your head spin.

Halfway through stripping off your pants, shirt discarded in a corner, a knock sounded at your door. Before you had a chance to yell it was creaking open, had you even closed it all the way?

“(Y/N), Cass wanted to know if you needed any-” Azriel stopped speaking. Your spine was rigid. You were faced away from him, an arm crossed over your chest, the other clutching the top of your pants tightly.

Slowly, you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to glance at him. He was halfway through the door, a hand on the handle and the other loosely hanging by his side. His wings were flared and his eyes were wide, nearly black from how blown his pupils were. He drug his eyes down your frame, every so slowly before dragging them upward once more. Swallowing thickly he shut his eyes tightly and turned his head towards the hallways.

“Gods, Im sorry.” He choked out, moving to shut the door enough for you to have privacy. “Cass just wanted to know if you needed a poultice for soreness?”

Cheeks heated to a new extreme, and hands shaking you turned away from the door and swallowed deeply. “Yes. That would be great. Thank you Azriel.”

The spymaster didnt even deign a reply, he simply shut the door. Dropping your arms you let your pants fall to the floor and released a breath you were unaware you had been holding.

–

“You walked in on her changing? So what. It was an accident Az.” Cass huffed, ducking away from his counterpart's swing. Azriel raised a brow and rolled away from the countering swing of the general’s leg. Catching his calf mid air, the spymaster stood and swept his partner to the ground. Chuckling when Cassian made impact and his breath was knocked clean from his chest.

“Yes an accident but still…” Azriel panted, reaching out a hand to help him up. “I keep replaying it in my head.”

“Well now you sound like a fucking creep.” Cassian countered, accepting the hand gratefully. Both males were sweating and panting like animals. The sun was baking the roof and their shirts had long been discarded. They had opted for hand to hand this training session, their weapons glimmering in the light, had been discarded as well. “She’s a pretty female, I’ll give her that. When was the last time you got some anyway Az? Maybe she’s the perfect outlet fo-”

Azriel didn't even let him finish. All technique flew out the window and the shadowsinger lunged at his friend. The two males fell to the hard clay beneath and Cassian was firmly pinned beneath the press of Azriel’s knees.

“Dont even fucking say it.” He growled. Cassian raised his arms above his head in submission and watched as Azriel stood, a brow raised.

“What? I didnt mean anything by it, it was a joke.” Cassian sputtered, rising to his knees to catch his breath. Azriel was faced away from him, tugging his shirt on and strapping his blades back to his body. His shoulders were taught and any emotion once readable had been steeled away. “You act like she’s your-”

Azriel cut his gaze towards his friend. There was a fire there that Cassian had not seen since they were children, fighting for their lives in the war camps. And then it dawned on him, his shoulders slumped and his mouth fell open in shock. “Brother- how long have you known?”

Azriel turned away from Cassian once more and busied himself with the buckle of his belt. “Since the continent.” Was the only answer he gave before making his way towards the stairs. Cassian wasted no time in following him, haphazardly grabbing his shirt and belongings as he passed them.

“Does she know?” He pressed, struggling to keep up with the brisk pace Az had set. “Are you going to tell her?”

Azriel spun around to face him at the door to the stairs, a hand raised in his face.

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.”

“I would never.” He spoke, the males shared a look before Azriel merely nodded and made his descent.

Cas watched him leave, his shoulders slumped and his items hanging loosely in his hands. A small light zipped into his view, and bobbed there. His brows creased and he reached for it, only to be burned upon contact.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, stepping towards it. As he approached it slowly made its way towards the stairs before blinking out of existence entirely.

–

You were sitting up in bed, legs crossed and hands pressed firmly into your knees. Eyes closed, forehead creased, you had never focused on that little light harder. In the cabin, it had been able to provide you glimpses of what it had seen, like highlight reels from the outside world. Now, as it made its way through the House of Wind you practiced grasping onto that information.

Focusing hard enough you gathered that it could show you, and tell you. You heard the conversations of the servants as it zipped through the kitchens, the whispers of the maids as it tiptoed through faelights in different rooms, and the clanging of metal as it approached the roof.

“Brother- how long have you known?”

“Since the continent.”

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.”

“I would never.”

Your eyes snapped open and that little light reappeared before you. It bobbed and spun in its place, like a dog happy to see its master after a long day’s separation. With a thought it blinked out of existence and you stared at where it had been without really seeing. He had known what? Had deigned not to tell you something? Azriel was your friend. Yes that much had been made clear over the weeks he had been with you at the cabin. The jokes and the conversations held in the safety of that wooden dwelling between the two of you and Amren. And yet he was hiding something that seemed important from you.

Swallowing thickly you stood from the bed and made your way to the desk. Scribbling quickly onto a piece of paper you concentrated on willing it away into the awaiting hands of its receiver. When it disappeared into that mysterious universal fold you sunk into the desk chair and stared out the window. Awaiting its return.

–

It was noon the following day when that tricky little spot in the universe reopened and your reply floated lazily onto the foot of your bed. Hair still sopping wet from your bath you ran forward and clutched it in your palms. Your slick skin smeared the ink but the letters were legible.

“Mistress Beddor, I am delighted to hear from you. Smart of you to call in your favor, please allow me a week's time to find everything I can. Until then I will send a formal invitation to Rhysand requesting you visit my court. Best wishes until we meet - H.”

Amren had made it clear in her lessons how guarded the High Lord’s were about their abilities, and yet you remembered the information she shared. Helion was the Spellcleaver and his court was famed for knowing a little about a lot of things.

Azriel and Rhysand’s inner circle may have decided to keep things from you but Helion owed you a favor. If he could help you find out anything about this new life of yours, you were damn sure going to cash in on the favor he owed.

You dressed quickly and made your way to the roof where you knew Cassian would be.

–

“You want me to take you where?” Cassian huffed between blows, a young male was currently sparring with him, exerting all force against the General who was barely breaking a sweat. You rocked back and forth on your toes, hands clasped behind your back.

“To town. I would take myself but…” You trailed off and gestured to your back where you lacked a very useful set of wings. Cassian pursed his lips and thought momentarily before nodding. With one swing of his arm the young male before him was flat on the ground gasping for air. Cassian chuckled at the sight before exiting the sparring ring.

You raised your brows in question as you watched his partner struggle back to his feet. Cassian only shrugged and pulled his shirt back on.

“What?” He smiled, raising a brow to mimic your expression. You smiled tightly and shrugged it off. “Why do you want to go to town?” He threw the question over his shoulder as he made his way downstairs, highly aware of you hot on his trail. You only smiled and shook your head.

“I'm feeling- adventurous I suppose.”

“Okay then…” He muttered. He rounded the turn towards the living quarters and stopped momentarily, effectively having you run into his broad backside. “If you’ll give me five minutes lady Beddor, I am going to clean up and then I will take you to town.”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, watching as he disappeared into his room. You were thankful he agreed to take you, but you couldn't help replaying the conversation you had overheard. What in gods’ name did he know that he wasn’t telling you?

Patience

A small voice in your head commanded.

All will be seen in due time.

–

“I'm still confused as to why you wanted to come down here.” Cassian spoke up from around a bite of his food. He was strolling slowly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye as you took in the sights of Velaris. You were wide eyed and slack jawed like a child in a candy store.

The music, the smells, the colors… It had assaulted your senses and overloaded you in a way that you had not been overwhelmed since Under The Mountain. But this- this overbearing feeling was different from the sweat and death of that place. Velaris was air, and light, and life. It was exploding with so much life and hope that it had you nearly misty eyed. Why had you not ventured here sooner?

“I was curious. A little sick of looking at it through a window.” You replied, turning your head as you walked to face him. He nodded and looked forward, shoving his now food-free hands into his pockets. His expression was unfocused, like he had something on his mind he was afraid to voice.

“What is it?” You prodded, gently nudging his arm with your elbow.

“What do you mean?”

“You want to ask me something. So ask.”

He sighed and trained his gaze on the street before you, gently guiding you out of the way of oncoming children who were giggling and chasing a ball.

“What was it like… down there? Rhys- he doesnt… He doesnt talk about it with us.” His voice was hushed, as though he was scared to talk about it too loudly. You swallowed thickly and looked to the Sidra.

“It was, without a question in my mind, the worst thing I will ever experience in my life.” You began, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “I went there as a girl, and left as some twisted form of a woman.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, and the two of you came to a stop on a bridge over the Sidra, watching the water move and the lights twinkle on her surface. He was silent, letting you tell a story you had yet to utter to anyone but your nightmares.

“I uhm… I kind of forced myself to disappear I think. I blocked a lot of it out, prayed it was a nightmare.” You chuckled then, an action that had him slicing his eyes in your direction. “Sometimes I still think I’m gonna wake up in my bed to my little brother screaming at me to wake up and play.”

Cassian smiled tightly and spoke softly, “You had a brother?”

Your brows creased and you nodded with a smile, as if he should have known, “Oh yeah… yeah I had one.” And somehow saying it that way, like it was in the past cut you deeper than a knife. You were crying, the bite of the air stinging your wet cheeks.

“His name was Adam. He wasn't even ten yet- just a little boy. But uh… Yeah. Yeah, I had a brother.” And there was some kind of sick finality in the way you said it that had Cassian slumping and leaning his weight backwards against the bridge railing. Your elbows were propped against it, gaze trained on the water below.

“Tell me about him.” He whispered, and when you looked at him his eyes were intent on your own. Genuinely curious about who Adam was, who he was to you.

You laughed, a broken noise cut with a sob. But you were grateful, grateful someone was asking about him. Who he was. And so, as the citizens of Velaris bustled by and the afternoon wasted away to evening you told Cassian about a little boy who’s birthday fell on the Winter Solstice, his pony named Chelsie, and his dream to become the captain of a great Naval ship one day. And Cassian listened as you cried, laughed with you, and while you may have been imagining it… it felt like he was mourning too. Grieving the loss of a little boy he had never met but now knew through stories.

He had a secret to keep, that you were sure of, but you were grateful to him at this moment for allowing you to remember your sibling in the way he should have been remembered. Not in the way that Amarantha had wanted you to remember him.

You were giggling over a particularly fond memory when your quaint disposition was interrupted by billowing shadows and a soft wind. Azriel stood, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed on Cassian who fell silent and tight lipped upon his friend’s arrival.

“Rhysand requests your presence at the town house.” He spoke, glancing between both you and Cassian.

“We will be there shortly, Brother.” Cassian replied

“Immediaetly.” Azriel’s words were clipped, drawn tight as a bowstring. He relaxed when you smiled tightly and clapped your hands, relishing in the warmth that immediately flowed to your cold-stiff fingers.

“Well then, escort me to the High Lord, boys.”

–

Rhysand sat at his desk, a lamp softly illuminating the room in a warm glow. His legs were kicked up on the oak and his hands were clasped behind his head. He was the feline picture of relaxation when your trio entered his office.

The curtains were pulled back and the windows open, the welcoming sounds of Velaris drifting on the breeze and filling the room. Upon your arrival he offered you a seat, one you gladly took, and motioned to his desk.

A letter, golden as the sun, lay open on his desk. It's perfectly rounded wax seal had been torn neatly and its contents lay splayed on the surface. Azriel and Cassian had taken up twin positions on either side of the door, and a muscle was thrumming tightly in the Spymaster’s jaw.

“It seems as though you are quite popular amongst our sister court.” Rhysand spoke, knocking his legs down and leaning forward in his seat to look at you. Feigning innocence you cocked a brow and leaned backwards in your seat, a picture of perfect confusion.

Humming he drummed his fingers on his desk, “Helion has requested your presence in the Day court for a week, should you be willing to go.” You heard Azriel scoff and then the muffled sounds of a struggle as Cassian elbowed him deeply in the ribs. A quick look from Rhys and the noise settled.

“For?” You questioned, keeping up with the game you had begun to play days ago.

“That- I am not sure of. (Y/N)... I am not positive that this is the best idea.” He raised, leaning backwards in his seat once more.

“Why not?”

Rhysand looked to Cassian and Azriel behind you and sighed deeply.

‘You are seeking answers to questions you do not really want answered.’

His voice was echoing through your head, a quick glance at the men behind you confirmed they had not heard it. When you returned your gaze to Rhysand your brows were dropped and the demeanor you held was gone.

“How do you know I don't want them answered?” You replied aloud, not quite sure how to accomplish the trick he had pulled.

‘Because I know the answer, and you are not ready to hear it.’

He had audacity.

You nodded tightly and stood from your chair. Dusting imaginary dust from your pants you made for the door. Cassian and Azriel made way for you and with a hand on the knob you turned over your shoulder to look at Rhysand.

“Tell Helion I will join him for the week.” Nodding curtly, he glanced between his brothers who looked utterly distraught.

“And Rhysand?”

“Yes?”

“You don't get to decide what im ready for.”

You left then, keenly aware of the raised voices behind the door as you slammed it that raised for moments before the room was sealed. As you walked down the hall you slowed. Were you really ready for this?

Answers, yes. Those you needed, craved. But a court entirely foreign to you? With a High Lord who “owed you a favor” but had been responsible (to some degree) for the death of your sister?... No. You could not think of that. Helion had the capabilities to help you, and was willing to try and figure this out for you. And he had been sorry. Remorse would never bring Clare back, would never change that final image of her hanging from a wall- but it softened the blow somehow. Made that pill easier to swallow when you thought of his pain, begging Amarantha not to make you watch.

You would go to the Day Court, you would ruffle Helion’s feathers, and you would figure out what the fuck the Night Court was guarding so tightly.

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice called from behind you. Elain was in a pale pink dress, hands crossed in front of her, a cautious smile on her pretty face.

“Hi Elain.” It had been a long time since you had seen her. One? Two months? Something like that you were sure…

“I didn't realize you were back.” She spoke, moving towards you slowly. You crossed your arms across your chest and nodded gently. The way she was approaching you like you were some kind of wounded animal made you want to profusely apologize for the scare you had given her all those weeks ago when you nearly took the house down to its foundation.

“Yes and No. I’m… Im not staying.”

“Oh-”

“I leave for the Day court tomorrow.” You spoke quickly, afraid she would beg you not to leave. Something in the softness of her doe eyes made you think that request would be a hard one to say no to.

Shock and confusion overtook her features, and as she opened her mouth to speak the door to Rhysand’s office flew open. Azriel stalked out and slammed it behind him, hardly making eye contact with you or Elain as he stormed down the hall, teaming with anger. Cassian and Rhysand emerged shortly after, wearing twin looks of defeat and exhaustion.

“What happened?” Elain whispered, glancing between the two males. Rhysand waved it off and Cassian shook his head before looking at you.

“Ready?” He questioned, practically begging to get the fuck out of that house. You nodded in reply and bid goodnight to Elain before following him out of the house. The flight back was quiet, Cassian’s mind was clearly preoccupied. You didn't mind the silence, finding solace in your own thoughts as you thought over the next week.

When you returned to your twin abode the male let you down gently on the balcony before trudging inside and promptly filling a crystal glass full of whiskey. You watched as he downed the shimmering liquid and replenished his glass. Keenly aware that you were watching, the general filled a second glass knuckle deep and motioned for you to take it.

“(Y/N)...”

“You wont change my mind Cassian.”

“Why do you want to go so badly?” He prodded, slouching down into an arm chair not far from the balcony doors. You didn't reply, just took a drink from your glass and sat down. “Other courts- they arent like this one, Beddor.”

You scoffed into your drink, he had just answered his own question.

“They are going to say things about us to you that arent true. Lies that will make us sound… evil.”

“And who am I to call them liars? I have seen nothing of this court but one city and a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” You snapped, cutting your gaze to him finally. Your words slapped a look of defeat on his features and he sighed.

“You have seen a city that has been kept secret for centuries. The Night Court the rest of Prythian knows is not one worth knowing.” And with that he finished his second drink and bid you goodnight.

“Not no but hell no.” You spoke, words laced with steel. Feyre sighed and Rhysand rubbed his temples slowly. You could hear Cassian chuckling down the hallway and Azriel just stared at you as though you had killed his first born. “He isnt coming with me.”

“You cant go alone, and Cassian’s reputation amongst other courts precedes him in the worst ways possible.”

“Hey, fuck you man.”

“Cas you aren't even allowed to enter the summer court.” Feyre mumbled with a smile. Cassian only scoffed and returned to whatever it was he was doing moments before. You looked between them all, dumbfounded.

“I cant bring Amren?” You offered, grasping for straws in an empty cup.

“No. Amren is to stay in Velaris. You will bring Azriel, I'm sorry but I cant send you there alone. I have no clue why Helion wants to see you and i'm not risking you getting kidnapped by Hybern because you can't fully protect yourself without running the risk of being tracked.” If your words had been steel, Rhysand's were obsidian, honed and sharpened to a lethal edge. And you knew he was right, you were still possibly a target, and an expensive one at that. Yet the company of the shadowsinger would make your quest for knowledge difficult, if not impossible.

The way he and Feyre looked at you made you heed his words and agree to the conditions of your stay at the Day Court.

“We’ll Winnow in, Helion is already expecting our arrival.” Azriel spoke then, stepping forward. There was an emotion in his amber eyes that was almost palpable- anger, confusion, and hurt mingled together and showed themselves to you briefly before his face was once more a mask of cool composure. He held out an arm and with a wave at Feyre and Rhysand you took it gratefully.

Arrival at the Day Court was immediate- so much so that you nearly emptied your breakfast onto the cobbles below. Winnowing was still completely out of your wheelhouse. It left you feeling sickly and out of place when it ended. How useful- yet how strange it was. Azriel clasped your shoulder and raised a brow.

“Are you alright?” He questioned, concern laced in his tone. Bent entirely in half you braced yourself on your knees but offered him a thumbs up and an offset groan. Azriel grimaced and patted your back gently, straightening quickly when the booming voice of Helion was heard approaching.

“Mistress Beddor, travel has not suited you?” He asked, stopping before the two of you by a few paces. He was flanked by two women, dark in complexion and so stunningly beautiful that you had to avert your gaze. Helion looked much healthier than the last time you saw him. His dark hair was glossier, face fuller, and skin glowingly healthy. He donned a crown of gold that resembled the sun, wow- he really had gone all out for this.

“Im alright.” You replied, straightening your posture and nodding in greeting to Helion and his courtiers. Noticing your gaze Helion smiled and moved out of their way.

“(Y/N), these are Misae and Suma.” The women (who you had effectively decided were sisters) smiled, revealing shining rows of perfectly white teeth. “They will be taking care of you during your stay.” Without a word they curtsied and in a flash they were gone, the quiet whisper of their golden skirts the only proof they had ever been there at all.

“Your wraiths never fail to terrify me.” Azriel commented, stepping forward to shake hands with Helion who merely shrugged and chuckled.

“Wraiths?” The men turned to look at you, both wearing a mask of confusion before Azriel’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

Easy to forget you had not always been a fae.

“They are like us, but not.” Azriel began.

“Appearance wise they are fae, metaphysically… well they just-” Helion tried to finish and it was almost painful trying to watch the two of them explain something that you didn't understand.

You hoped this conversation was not a peek into the rest of the week.

“Anyhow, Misae will return to take you to your room. Please feel free to rest and become acquainted with the palace. I have several meetings to attend and will not be able to rejoin you until dinner. Azriel, if you would join me?” Helion spoke, effectively dismissing you to speak with Rhysand’s emissary.

It was a slap in the face almost, to be disregarded and thrown off so quickly into your visit. But something in the tightness of Helion’s shoulders, and the tentative nature to his smile made you feel as though he wasn't quite ready to be alone with you. You watched as the men strolled down the cobbled path lined with fruit trees and golden street lamps.

“Shall we?” A female voice uttered from behind you. It was disjointed, ghostly in a way that made you jump and turn to the woman with a start. It was Misae, smiling softly and tilting her head. Her dark braids fell across her shoulders and nearly to her waist, they were interwoven with golden ornaments and small white flowers. So much gold. Helion must have had a fancy for the fineries in life.

Briefly you thought that Clare would have liked it here.

Shaking it off you smiled in return and nodded, following her in the opposite direction of where Azriel and Helion had disappeared.

“I am (y/n).” You muttered after a moment's silence. Misae looked at you from the corner of her eye and giggled, running her hands over the silk of her skirts. The fashion here was starkly different from that of the human lands. The cut of her dress revealed the slopes and planes of her body, dipped to tease her breasts, and slit to allow her legs to peak through as she walked. Rings and bracelets clinked together melodiously on her hands and wrists and large yellow stones hung from her ears.

You had never felt more plain in your trousers and thin sweater than you did now.

At one point in your life you had worn the frilly hats, the frilly gloves, and the lace lined dresses.

It had been so long since those fineries had been dotted on.

“You are not from Prythian?” Misae spoke, once more catching you off guard with the tone of her voice. You would need to get used to that quickly. Her words were more pointed than a question, though she disguised them well.

“That obvious?” You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest and taking in the sights of the palace grounds. Birds sang and swooped through trees, and fountains trickled nearby. It was so open and bright here.

“Yes and no.” Misae replied, taking a left into an open air hallway. She led you towards its ending where large doors encrusted in rubies and gems were sealed shut. “You just seem much more…youthful than anyone else here.” She struggled for that word, didn't mean it but couldn't put her mind on what she was trying to say.

Human.

You just seemed more human.

You only nodded and fell silent as she led you inside.

–

You tried and failed not to be amazed by the complexity and beauty of Helion’s home. You did not want to seem out of place, or like this was new to you. But then again, it was new to you. You had grown up in what you considered to have been the lap of luxury, but Helion’s residence made your life look like that of a stray begging for scraps. Every surface that was not encrusted with jewels was laden in gold or bronze. There didn't seem to be a single pane of glass in any window, and the ceilings seemed to never end.

In your own room, art whose frames alone could have fed your village for a year was hung, and the bed which sat in the corner was something out of a fairytale. Misae had given you a tour then let you be, informing you that one call of her name would summon her lest you need anything.

Taking a glance around, you weren't sure you would.

In the bathroom a dress hung, a note gingerly attached to its hanger.

It was a dreamy little number, dusty pink and made entirely of sheer chiffon. It was backless, a fact that had your face drained of color and your hands shaking as you reached out to run your fingers over the soft material.

‘Join me at sunset for dinner in the gazebo. - H’

You let the parchment heat and burn to cinders in your hand, watched as that little white light consumed it with blind eyes.

You chose not to get dressed in the bathroom, didnt look in the mirror as you slipped out of your sweater and pulled the dress on. Ignored the breeze that floated across your back and caressed the silver map of scars there. Deftly you twisted your hair out of your face and secured it with golden pins that had been left for you on the bedside table. As you dressed the twin wraiths appeared and added final touches, politely listening when you refused opulent jewelry and hair finishes.

“(y/n)?” Came a muffled voice from behind the door, accompanied by a knock. With a nod the sisters had evaporated and you opened the door revealing Azriel. He had dropped his leathers and opted for a black button up made of the finest night court silk, and night dark trousers. With little shame, he allowed his eyes to drag the length of you.

“Yes?” You almost snapped, urging his eyes back up to your own. Your brow was raised in question and you had yet to fully open the door for him to enter. Clearing his throat he made to scooch beside you, a motion you let slide. “Sure Azriel, come on in…” You muttered beneath your breath.

Shutting the door behind him you made to turn and face him when he sucked in a sharp breath. Your spine became steel and your hand stilled on the doorknob. Without a thought that welcoming heat warmed your skin and the room glowed a faint bit brighter.

Tentative fingers brushed against the bare skin of your spine, stilling at the center of your back. Could he hear the thrumming of your heart? Smell the fear you suddenly felt?

“Is this why you didn't wear it?” He whispered, gently pulling his hand away. Slowly, ever so slowly you turned to face him, and pressed your back into the door. His hand was still raised, as though he burned to reach out and touch you again.

“Wear what?”

“The dress. The first dinner you had with us at the town house.” Azriel muttered, studying your features.

What dress was he talking about? You mulled it over in your mind for a moment.

Oh.

You swallowed thickly and moved around him towards the open windows. The little white dress, that had been so utterly human you had shoved it into the darkest depths of your armoire. Never to be seen again.

“When you left, Nuala found it. Brought it back to me.” He muttered, his eyes still trained on the bedroom door, his back a wall of steel as you stared at it. So they had found it.

“Thats not the whole reason I didnt wear it. But part of it, yes.” You replied, lifting your chin as he turned to face you. There was some kind of hurt playing on his features, an emotion you couldn't pin down.

“What was the other?”

“It was too human. Too- too delicate.” His eyes softened as he realized what you were trying to convey. It wasn't too delicate, it was beautiful, you felt it was too delicate for you. The gesture had been kind, you would give him that, but it broke your heart entirely.

Without entirely thinking the shadowsinger stepped forward and placed his gloved hands before you, their palms upward, waiting. Head cocked you watched him as he pulled the gloves off to reveal a map of scars, twisted and beautiful. Chucking them to the side he looked at you, searched your eyes for horror or repulsion, and yet he found nothing there but a deep understanding.

“You can hide them all you want, but they are part of you. For good or bad.” He muttered, unmoving as you took his hands in your own and ran your fingers over the ridges and dips there. He had stopped breathing as you held them, watched from above as you broke eye contact and studied the imperfections. He had hated them his whole life, and yet here you were, making him wish he had uncovered them sooner.

Looking into his eyes once more he saw a thin layer of gloss there, tears threatening to be shed but held tightly from doing so. “Thank you.” You muttered, for what he wasnt sure. “Thank you.”

The illyrian only smiled tightly and nodded before pulling you forward by the shoulders, enveloping you in a cocoon of muscle and wing as he hugged you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, and held him for who knows how long.

“We should go.” You whispered finally, well aware that there was still a dinner to attend, appearances to make, and answers you could not be sidetracked from. Azriel only nodded and pulled away, offering you a hand to hold as you made your way into the hall beyond your room.

Distantly, music played, and for some reason its haunting melody was less piercing than it should have been, less harrowing as you held Azriel’s hand and made your way to the dining room.

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enihk-writes · 1 year ago

Text

[at the end of a burnt wick]

pairing: tang bo x afab!she/her!reader

NOT exactly an x reader because i didn't want tang bo and reader's relationship to be romantic, tried to make them platonic / co-workers like ah-duo and the emperor from the apothecary diaries + implied tangchung because all roads lead to old men yaoi

summary: anthology of a married pair

content warning: archaic wedding practices mentioned (i.e. having to consummate a marriage against the will of both parties) // stillbirth and child loss (disconnect with traditional expectations of parenthood)

word count: 6.66k

author's note: my roman empire lately is about how i used to audition to nijisanji and only niji at least 3-4 times (didn't even pass the first stage lol) before i got really fixated with rotbb.... maybe one day i will try my hand at vtubing and streaming again... for now it's fanfiction time ragggghhh!!!!! fictional men 4ever!!!!

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

═══════════════

FIRST MEETING

the first time the young tang bo met her, was when he was a little over fifteen.

she was also just as young as he — a wee lass that had yet to lose the childlike roundness of her cheeks, round eyes that seemed to sparkle in wonderment at all the grandeur around her. tang bo didn't understand what was so special about the surroundings, he'd grown up here all his life and had already seen most of anything money could buy. this girl was weird.

he didn't find out until much later that this was the first time she had ever left the four walls of her room, much less her own home.

he thinks that it was no wonder she had looked so amazed with everything she saw back then. he can't imagine a life where he had to live constrained to one place, going through the same routine everyday would have bored him to death.

he wasn't looking forward to future conversations with that girl — he was certain she would be utterly dull and boring.

═══════════════

ENGAGEMENT

tang bo was furious that the elders had went and signed off the engagement contract without even asking for his approval. he had been meeting with countless hopefuls for a few years by now, and he'd been able to fend them all off by acting in ways that had all these well-bred ladies huffing and puffing in indignation. crying to their fathers that they would rather die than marry a man like he.

so who was it that agreed to this!

tang bo mutters under his breath, teeth gritted, fists clenched. he had to see with his own two eyes the woman who was stupid or desperate enough to let herself be wed to the likes of him.

elder!

the young man throws open the doors to the main hall, not caring one bit about the guests sitting inside. the elders and the patriarch in question frowned at his behaviour, biting their tongues from chastising him in front of strangers.

his gaze lands on a familiar face, a little older and a lot less naive, but familiar nonetheless. he didn't know that a person's demeanour could change so drastically in a few years.

tang bo's hands fall to his sides, he shuffles towards the end of the table, plopping down on the empty spot across his soon-to-be betrothed. he eyes her figure, chewing on the inside of his mouth, trying to come up with something to insult her with.

tang bo—

the patriarch didn't even get the chance to finish his sentence when the young man scoffs at the girl's face, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a sneer.

really? her?

tang bo glances over at the heads of his family, finger pointing rudely in the girl's face. they all sigh, knowing what was about to come from the impudent boy. they could only hope this girl wouldn't take his jabs to heart.

hey you.

he juts his chin at her.

all my other candidates looked prettier than you. hey, did you even bother to put in any effort when coming to meet me?

she ignored him, sipping on her tea serenely. the girl's guardians shift in their seats nervously. ah, this young master has yet to face their mistress' infamous anger.

tang bo clicks his tongue.

oi, did you even — hey!

he didn't expect her to splash the remainder of her drink onto him. the warm liquid splatters across his face and drips down his now damp hair, even the front of his robes were now soiled from the tea.

he looks over to the elders of his family in surprise, hoping that they'd stand up for him but none met his eye. he felt betrayed when he catches some of them trying to hide the twitch of their mouths suppressing their laughs.

they all thought that it was about time someone put this boy in his place, talented and intelligent as he may be.

needless to say, the rest of the meeting went on smoothly. and it ended with the confirmation of the two's engagement. much to tang bo's despair and the girl's indifference.

═══════════════

FIRST 'DATE'

he really tried his best to drag his feet that day. the elders had arranged for an evening dinner in the newly established inn downtown with his bride-to-be and tang bo really did not want to go. he was kicking up a fuss with his clothes, this one was too dull, that one is too bright, it's too rough, it's too short... and so on. but when he finally ran out of excuses and the attendants tiredly managed to dress him appropriately — the sun was beginning to set.

tang bo perks up. perhaps he didn't have to go out with her after all!

he steps out of his room, surprised to see that there was no one in the courtyard. he shouldn't have felt a jolt of worry then, but he did, and he wondered if something was wrong.

where is she?

he asks to no one in particular, heading to her room three doors down from his, footfalls heavy on the lacquered wooden planks of the corridor. he hears panicked voices muffled behind the doors and throws the doors to her room open.

she sat in the middle of the room in nothing but her undergarments, surrounded by the tang estate's maids and piles of unworn clothes. she had her back facing him, and all he could see were the maids hurriedly hiding away the containers of makeup all shying away from his scrutinising gaze.

out.

the maids didn't have to be told twice. they all scurried out of her room like mice, tails between their legs and faces pursed in anxiety at being caught in the middle of something they probably shouldn't be doing. tang bo sighed heavily. to think the woman he was to marry was getting bullied, by mere maids too? he felt ashamed on her behalf. he didn't like people who were fine with others taking advantage and stepping all over them. he hated that they didn't have a backbone to stand up for themselves.

kicking off his shoes, he entered her room — nose scrunched up instinctively at the suffocating dust in the air. he looked around to see all the windows shut tightly, there were no gaps for even a sliver of light to shine inside.

how has this girl been living so far, for her to be fine with this treatment?

tang bo coughed, stumbling over to open the windows, lightheaded from the lack of breathable air. he waves his hands to chase the dust outside, coughing even harder when the little particles get all up in his face.

he hears her giggle. much to his growing annoyance, what was so funny anyway.

he sits in front of her, letting the pile of unworn clothes cushion him from the hard floor. under the orange glow of the setting sun, he sees her for the first time today, all dolled up in the most garish makeup that would have certainly humiliated her, and had he not barged in she would have had to go around in public like that.

you look uglier today.

she chuckled and hummed in response, she looks around in search of something. grabbing a rag from under the clothes, she proceeded to wipe off her painted face, only to have tang bo take it out of her hands with a soft, let me.

he holds her chin between his fingers, rubbing off the white powder that contrasted starkly against her skin, making her look sickly. he rubs off the crudely drawn-out eyebrows and the thick rouge that sat on her lips. he can't help but notice the way her lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her eyes closed. maybe his fiancee was a little cute.

with her face now bare, the girl lets out the breath she had been holding. but tang bo wasn't done yet.

where are you facing. turn back here.

he ordered pointedly, and she couldn't help but to go back into her prior position. lips and eyes squeezed shut, much like a puppy getting told off for misbehaving.

picking up a brush out of the many lying haphazardly over the vanity, tang bo dipped it's tip into the little porcelain jar left ajar. it was lipstick in a shade deep red, the type that would have looked lovely especially on her.

he holds the girl's now bare face in one hand, the brush in the other, outlining the shape of her lips with the new rouge. the feathery touch of the brush tip was ticklish, moreso with how tang bo had been holding it in an uncharacteristically gentle way as though he were a potter painting intricate patterns on a cup before he sent it off to the burning fires in a kiln.

he pinched the brush, smudging the tint against his fingers and drawing faint circles at the outer corner of her eyes.

tang bo leans back to admire his handiwork. he couldn't help but feel proud of the results. not only was he good at martial arts and medicine, he had an amazing eye for aesthetics too? where would anyone find a better husband then he?

the girl opens her eyes cautiously, her gaze meeting his. he looked pleased, boastful even.

hmph. you look more presentable now.

he hands her a mirror, and as she looks at her reflection against the shiny bronze surface, she had to agree. her fiance had done a good job with her face. maybe he wasn't all that awful.

thank you, young master tang.

the girl smiled, her eyes crinkling upwards in a smile. tang bo scoffs and looks out the window, hiding his embarrassment at her sincere words. thinking back now, this was the first he'd heard her speak, wasn't it? maybe he should pay more attention once in a while.

heh. of course you should be thanking me.

the sky and grown dark. lucky him, he didn't have to go out to that dinner with her after all.

═══════════════

THE FIRST REAL DATE

tang bo felt a little irked that she had been walking behind him even when he had slowed down to match her pace. it's almost like she had been deliberately hanging back.

you.

he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards him. she stumbled over her feet and falls over with a startled squeak.

you're my fiancee. so stand proud and walk beside me.

he declares with a hand on his hip, the grip on her wrist with his other not once loosening. he walks again, just as slow as he had been earlier, feeling a little happy that the girl no longer lagged behind.

he'd started to warm up to her, no longer seeing her as the stranger living in his house, one day to become his wife. she was more akin to a little sister he'd have to babysit.

no, actually she was more like an apprehensive kitten left on his doorstep that he'd grown to like taking care of.

buying her sweets and spoiling her with accessories she might not even have a chance to wear just because he thought she'd look cute in them has been one of his favourite hobbies these days.

why was he so anxious about getting engaged before? ever since she became his fiancee, he didn't have to go out and meet with any more annoying noble ladies clamouring over each other trying to win over his affection. the best part was that she kept to herself, and minded her own business unless it was time to visit the elders and the patriarch for afternoon tea — which he didn't mind since having her as his own personal walking event reminder has really saved him from getting scolded even more by the old farts.

ah! look! they're selling meat skewers over there! come on, let's go get some! i'm sure you'd like those too.

tang bo giggles and drags the girl over to another street vendor. ah, lucky him. he's hit the jackpot with the whole engagement game — a tolerable and cute wife-to-be, could a boy ask for anything more? guanyin-ma really was looking over him after all.

═══════════════

FORTUNE TELLER

after two seasons of living under the same roof, the heads of the tang clan decide that it was time for the two to meet with the fortune teller. set up an auspicious date through the tung shing, and be wed on the right phase of the moon and the best placement of the stars in the sky.

the young master is lucky to have found someone this compatible. it is hard for children born in his year to find a suitable partner. they say snakes rarely get along with the other zodiacs.

says the old eccentric woman who proclaimed herself to be the best fortune teller in sichuan and the one who had been checking the birthdates of all the potential brides that had been introduced to tang bo thus far. the boy felt the urge to get up and fight that hack, respecting his elders be damned, so she was the one sending him all those insufferable girls his way.

he feels a hand grab at his arm. fingers digging into his flesh enough to keep him seated. he looks over at the girl sitting next to him, expression unchanging, her body angled to lean a little closer to his.

his hand reached over discreetly to peel her fingers off him, bringing her hand down to hold his under the table, fingers intertwined. she seemed to relax a little, tense shoulders falling ever gently, her jaw growing slightly more slack.

to the untrained eye, the girl's expressions were the same. but to him, he's watched her long enough, even if it wasn't every day, to spot the subtle changes whenever she expressed herself. tang bo pats himself on the back for being such an attentive fiance.

his attention shifted from the conversation between the fortune teller and the elders to the girl's hand. they were soft and smooth, as expected of a lady of noble birth. his on the other hand were calloused from training, the tips of his fingers were starting to turn darker from the constant exposure to poisons. shit, he might have to start wearing gloves.

the girl hadn't been paying attention to the conversation going on either, spacing out until the elders called on the two. stifling their startled gasp, the two youngins stared at their elders, a confused expression painted on their faces, not one bit guilty for ignoring everything that was being said.

ah, it's good they are getting along well.

the fortune teller chuckled with a knowing glint in her eye trying to suggest something, but both tang bo and the girl didn't seem to catch her drift, the old woman's point flying over their heads.

the elders soon turn back to their discussion, talking about the best days that would suit the two.

look here, since they are both born as snakes, their auspicious numbers are two, eight and nine. i'd suggest we hold the wedding...

tang bo nudges at the girl.

hey.

she looks up at him. he leaned down next to her ear, wanting to ask her about her birthday, too embarrassed to ask about it outright in front of the elders. he didn't want to seem like an incompetent fiance to his future bride.

she hides a growing grin. it was nice of him to start paying attention to her. little steps, little steps. she wriggles her hand out of his grasp and writes down the date with her finger on the surface of his palm.

good thing their hands were under the table, or people would know about the cause of the redness dusting the back of his ears.

the meeting dragged on until late in the evening. it ended with the agreement that they were to be wed on the eighth day of the eighth month on the eighth year of the emperor's reign.

truly the most auspicious day for a union.

═══════════════

A BRIDE-TO-BE'S DRESSING ROOM

the long-awaited day came by later than expected. the previous emperor passed before he even got close to the eighth year of his reign. not wanting to change the numbers of the date, the elders decided to push the event back until the current emperor had reached his eighth year.

by then, the two had grown into a man and a woman, a lot older than the common age to be wed. but it was no matter. who would dare speak up against the tang clan's young master and his wife-to-be?

the day, hell, even the night before had been hectic. tang bo slipped past his attendants to take a peak at what was going on in her room. traditions be damned, who cares about the groom not seeing his bride until they were at the altar? that was so outdated!

what are you doing here?

she had been left alone to rest from the non-stop preparations since before dawn. tang bo walks in, careful not to make too much noise as he slides the door shut behind him.

why? can't i visit my wife?

i am not your wife.

yet~

his teasing voice moved behind her. he picked up the brush to comb out the knots that were all tangled up — the maids had put on extensions to lengthen her hair. she hadn't been able to grow them to the expected length, much to the annoyance of the maids. they hadn't been nice when attaching the accessories, she could still feel the burning sensation on her scalp.

there was no need to kick up a fuss at this point. especially in front of tang bo. this guy would have kicked out all the attendants who had been treating her poorly, but that felt like too easy of a punishment. she wanted to deal with them herself when the time comes, sorry for that, young master tang.

the leather gloves he wore were cold, and the feeling of his fingertips scratching against her scalp was soothing, enough to draw out a quiet purr from the woman. much to her shocked embarassment.

oh?

she leans away from him.

...please ignore that.

but how could he?

my wife... how can you be so cute~!

i need you to shut up right now.

═══════════════

WORLD'S MOST BORING CEREMONY

if it was any consolation, the two had agreed that this whole affair was a pain in their ass.

wife, do you know when this will end?

what makes you think i have the answer to that?

tang bo thinks his bride was lucky to have that red veil over her face. if she wanted to shut her eyes and sleep, none of the guests nor elders would be any wiser. poor old him. they should have made a veil for the goom too, which smartass decided otherwise anyway? if he ever met that person, tang bo promised he would pummel the other to the ground.

wife.

she hums in acknowledgement, bowing her head at a guest who had come up to the front to pay their blessings to the pair.

wife.

tang bo called out again, his tone getting a little impatient. wincing when he felt her pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger. he tried to smile at the strangers passing them by, feeling drained and completely spent from the day's activities. it didn't help that the noisy chatter of everyone around them was making him feel worse.

wife, you should tell the elders that you're tired and want to rest for the night... i'm sure they'd listen to you.

why me? you go!

huh? me? nuh-uh, you go!

the back and forth lasted for a bit until they both agreed to ask the elders together. after all, having a partner-in-crime to take the fall together with you was way better than facing backlash alone.

perhaps the atmosphere of a wedding had put the elders in a carefree mood, perhaps it was the result of a dozen empty wine bottles. they think it might be both, but no matter, they received permission to get out of there.

the best news either had ever heard today.

scurring away quickly, the newlyweds giggle amongst each other like kids up to no good even as they were well into their twenties. the guests and elders cooed in amusement, talking about how nice it must be to be young and in love.

though that second part was so far from the truth, when the two talk about it again in their later years, it had grown into a funny story they liked to reminisce about over a midnight drink.

═══════════════

THE FIRST NIGHT

tang bo glanced over at his wife, carrying the same grimace as she did. it was hard not to cringe at the overtly crude decorations in their now shared room.

right. that was how it was in these parts. they were now husband and wife so the elders are probably expecting the results of the two carrying out their marital duties within the next year.

i don't want to do that...

me neither...

now sitting across each other on the floor, they discuss how to trick the maids who would certainly check the bedding the next morning. if nothing happened tonight then they would be under more scrutiny. but who's to say that there won't be any surveillance after? ugh! this was all so annoying!

tang bo watched as the woman before him let out a big sigh, dropping her head into her hands. he felt sorry for his wife, it must be hard living as the new daughter-in-law of his family.

should we get this done and over with?

he suggested finally, after exhausting all their options. his wife makes a face at that, but she can't argue.

awkwardly he hands over a vial, an all-purpose antidote of sorts, in case she gets accidentally poisoned while coming into contact with him. the head had passed it to him sometime during the ceremony earlier, tang bo had been hoping he didn't have to use it, at least he held himself back from throwing the whole vial at the wall when it was given.

he didn't say it at first, but he could hear the eyes and ears surrounding them grow careless every few moments, revealing their presence by accident with an unintentional movement or sound. how uncouth of them to be watching the two newlyweds like this. it seemed she'd also noticed their presence, with how she'd glance out the windows whenever a small rustle was heard.

i'm so sorry.

he murmured an apology as he kissed her cheek — he didn't have to look to know she had a faint look of disdain, directed to no one in particular yet still stung through his heart.

it's not your fault.

so she says. but it might as well be. to him at least.

the consummation wasn't a pleasant process. neither could look at the other in the eye. the knowledge that people were standing outside the room to listen in on the completion of their marriage made this whole ordeal so much worse.

wife...i...

tang bo feels his hips stutter, his face burns in shame as his hoarse voice tries to speak.

her hands reach out to brush his hair out of his face, fingertips lightly smooth out the crease of his furrowed brows. she'd resigned herself long ago, knowing this whole process was inevitable from the time she reached adolescence. to think her own husband did not...

she felt a slight twinge of pity. the young master tang was a lot more sheltered than she had thought.

when it was all over, they scrambled to get away from the other, each sitting at the furthest end of the bed — letting what had conspired sink in. how many more times would this have to happen in the future?

she was the first to collect herself. getting up, she shuffles over to tang bo, her hand reaching out for his.

my husband, we should go and clean up.

he nodded, taking her hand in his wordlessly as she led him to the tub hidden behind the partition. after dipping the dry towels in the now warm water to wipe their bodies clean, slipping into clean nightgowns and peeling off the soiled bedspreads to throw them aside, they finally crawl under the covers, yawning tiredly.

sleep came over easily, surprisingly enough.

═══════════════

DIAGNOSIS

the questions that hung around in the air at this time of the year were all about babies, children, the next generation. everyone wanted to know which of the wedded members would be expecting soon.

most eyes were turned on tang bo and his wife.

unfortunately.

their marriage had happened over five years ago, almost ten, and all this time their other relatives who had gotten married later than they were popping out one offspring after another — yet none were to be seen for the young lord and his lady. the elders often lamented on the silence of their side of the estate.

rumour has it that their relationship was on the rocks, with how neither shared a room nor did they spend a night together like all the tang spouses — save for the occasional times they'd go to visit the other's quarters every two to three months. to scratch an itch as one might say. after all, they were still young and quite healthy, so such urges were still common occurrences. might as well do it with someone familiar rather than do that with a stranger.

the relationship between tang bo and his wife was actually far more amicable than anyone could have guessed. it was hard to describe the solace they'd found in each other's unspoken commanderie within the household. they'd been living together long enough to know virtually everything about each other, yet there was always a line drawn between them to keep the distance.

today, she wasn't here for any of their usual arrangements. tang bo had came back to find his wife nursing a cup of tea in one hand, resting it on top of a propped-up leg. she had set out a game of weiqi on the table, next to a steaming teapot and array of snacks.

looks like someone's got news.

his teasing voice called out to the woman, settling down on the seat across her. he hums in thought, contemplating his move as she places down her white bead on the board.

your uncle came over to see why we weren't having kids yesterday. he's given me the results this morning, right after you left.

the woman holds out the folded paper, a little crumpled from being kept between the layers of her robes. tang bo takes it, opening it to read what his so-called uncle had diagnosed his wife with. talk about elder butting into a youngster's business for no good reason.

this...

he says that i'm barren.

she looks down with a small smile,and it looked a little bitter. of course, how could she not be? after all that had happened those few years back?

to say that she's unable to carry a child after all she had gone through back then was such a cruel prank from the heavens. he knows his wife wanted to be a mother more than anything, to give that little baby all her love in the world or along those sentiments — as did he. so if that's not going to happen... then, what now?

they were silent as they moved their beads across the game board. contemplating their next moves and what to say to the other.

there's crab stick snacks here, you should try some.

as always, she breaks the silence first. grabbing a few sticks of the salty treat to nibble on before handing the container over to her husband. tang bo reached for the food mindlessly, thinking about how nice it'd be to have these with some sweet wine.

ah, but his wife wasn't much of a drinker so that's a bummer.

═══════════════

ONLY CHILD

he should have heard the cries of the baby.

it was quiet inside, and out where he was waiting too. the nurses and maids walked out of the room with buckets of soiled, bloody rags with their heads down and mouths drawn into a thin line — something was wrong, something had gone terribly wrong.

tang bo felt his feet move, walking towards the bedroom where the doors were still shut tightly. he weaved past the attendants trying to hold him back, all telling their young master to go back and wait.

wait? why did he have to wait when he didn't know what was happening to his wife right then? she needed him. and she needed him right now.

the midwife slides the door open just as he was about to open it himself. they both take a step back in surprise.

young master... the lady is alive and well. she is waiting inside.

the older woman bowed and scurried away from the scene to join the others in the courtyard outside.

his wife lay on her back on top of fresh bedsheets and a clean nightgown. she had a sickly pallor, lips were chapped dry with red marks of blood from where the skin ripped open. hair that was riddled with sweat stuck onto the sides of her face, the untied tresses splayed over the top of the bed. her eyes were unfocused and blank, staring straight up at the wall, mind elsewhere. her cheeks were still stained with the remnants of her tears, the evidence of what transpired within these four walls.

wife...

tang bo called out cautiously. she didn't respond, barely even moved an inch to acknowledge his presence.

next to her on the bed was a small swaddle, the stillness of what was supposed to be alive unnerved him. the child's dull skin, probably in some shade of grey, eyes that were never to open, oh.

he sits by her bedside, back facing her. he too, did not know what to say to her at that moment. he was the last person that could have possibly comforted her. well, it was his child too but they were both not lovers so this was an offspring born out of necessity rather than a genuine want. and at this point in his life, tang bo wasn't actually too thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood. not that he would resent that kid, it's just he might not have loved them like he should.

his wife, she's mentioned her anticipation of motherhood but once in a while, he'd catch glimpses of the unreadable expression she had when no one was looking — all while she rubs her growing belly. it made him think that perhaps she wasn't always telling the truth.

once there was a patient who had came to the tang estate to treat the growing tumors in his intestines and since he was a rather important guest, most of the members of the main family, the two of them included, had dropped by to greet him and wish him well for recovery. tang bo could never forget the intensity of her absent gaze at the patient's stomach, her balled fist tightening over her shawl ever so slightly.

perhaps it's good that she's dead.

tang bo feels his eyebrows rise up in shock.

you're not too keen on fathering a child either, are you?

he shakes his head.

well, that makes the two of us. the heavens must be looking out for her, keeping her away from parents like us who can't give her the love she needs.

his wife sighed deeply. her tired face falling to the side to look at him, a lopsided smile making its way onto her lips as if to ease the heavy tension of her words away. she might be right. perhaps, it was better this way. tang bo closes her eyes with his palm, patting her to sleep the way one would with a feverish child.

their daughter would later be the two's first and only child.

═══════════════

SWORDSMAN

the woman wondered how one-sided her husband's relationship with his friend was. the man was a rather expressionless fellow — his sentences were short, curt and straight to the point. her husband didn't seem to mind, with now he was almost always all over that man. ah well, she's just happy tang bo has an actual friend.

rather than worry that he was drunk off his rocker out on the streets past midnight doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where, at least now he's causing trouble with someone she could easily track. apperently, the man was a troublemaker in his own home too.

the first time she met the older sect brother of her husband's friend, they shared a look of silent understanding. ah, so you too have an oversized child to deal with.

watching tang bo come home staggering on his feet together with the man, leaning on the other for support used to riddle her with worry but now she just ushers them both into a spare room prepped with the necessary herbs to concoct a hangover remedy and hope for the best. her husband was a capable man, he would never let himself falter and die in a ditch.

in hindsight, she might have been too confident in his abilities.

the swordsman was the best thing to have happened to her husband. and it was not an exaggeration by any means. not when he looked at his happiest for the first time since she'd known him. even if they were both past their fifties and sixties.

how nice. she thinks to herself whenever she spots them together. to find your other half, your kindred spirit in this word before you died... it must be nice.

she can't find it in her to be bitter. really.

═══════════════

FIRST CHIPPING

if he were to look at what society deemed as a bastard husband, then that requisite would have had his face plastered as a prime example. the type of husband that any aspiring groom should not ever become.

though for those who were in the know, mainly his wife and himself, there was more to their marriage than what everyone saw. it didn't take long for either of them to recognise that this union had been a discreet way for them to hide away from what kids like them were supposed to act like in this rigid society.

they've stuck by each other as the only people who would have understood each other the best. so now that tang bo was finally finding the happiness he should have sought after all this time, he was always feeling the guilt of leaving her behind on her own in that house that had always been too big for just the two of them.

she has yet to utter a word of displeasure to him. that's how she was — the quiet one who kept to herself, letting things happen until the worst had passed over. it was one of the little things he detested about his wife.

he can't bring himself to really hate her. there was a time when he had opened up his heart and confided in her about some things he's been scared to come to terms with. the type of realisation one has from a very early age and has buried deep within themselves to fit into society and the expectations people had of him.

his wife had held onto his hand wordlessly, squeezing it ever so often to assure his nerves. he's never been this vulnerable before. he never thought things like this could be so frightening.

she had something to say too. but not right now. this was his moment, she's not so tactless to take it away. she can't stop thinking that if they'd been more honest earlier, then perhaps they wouldn't have hurt the other unknowingly all these years.

the walls they'd built between them were starting to come down a little — who would have thought they'd find out something new after decades of marriage.

═══════════════

COMING TO TERMS

she couldn't really understand why her husband was loudly crying into her shoulder. her good robes were getting wet from his tears and snot. how did this almost seventy-year-old man have no shred of shame — in front of the attendants no less?

she had given him her blessings earlier today, and he was now free to pursue the swordsman so why was he not going off to sweep his beloved off his feet and ride off into the sunset or whatever those romance novels say?

wife, you know you aren't obligated to be bound to me any more right? if you wish, you are also free to love someone else...

tang bo managed to say between sobs.

...thank you for your consideration.

she hesitated. what did he mean by her being free to love someone else? she can't think of a time when she'd ever felt that kind of emotion, at least not the one that every person around her was chasing after, even back when she was in her youth.

there was always a disconnect whenever the other wives she'd corresponded with ranted and raved about their husband's infidelities or little annoyances. they were always on the verge of hysteria, driven to that point out of love for their husbands they said. and she'd think about how foolish it was.

thank goodness her relationship with tang bo had not been built on a foundation that flimsy. rather, it was one based on mutual respect. which was far better—

ah but. he must have felt trapped in this marriage. not everyone in the world was like her. not everyone had been born with the inability to be like everyone else and it was unfair how they all just instinctively know what romance and lovers-love is. so to have held him back in this loveless situation for this long was a cruel thing.

the good wife, the understanding wife, the kindhearted wife. it's all that she's been the majority of her life. she doesn't know what else there was to her now that she's let-go of these titles. she's free to do what she wants. but what does a caged bird set free know?

she had packed lightly, the clothes on her back were lighter and less showy, the stark opposite of what she used to wear as the daughter-in-law of the tang family. there was not much hesitation as she donned the weimao — it's white veil falling past her knees. she looked at the darkened courtyard of their estate.

she's received enough goodwill in this lifetime. she prayed at the ancestral shrine one last time, asking them to look after everyone now that she's going off.

═══════════════

MORNING AFTER

tang bo awoke to the frantic bustle of the maids outside his room. turns out his wife had gone missing overnight without anyone noticing. he walked out of his room, wandering around the family estate until he reached the main halls where it was quieter. no one was allowed in here outside of events except for the elders and the main family.

he picks up the tattered note that had fluttered to his feet — eyes widening as he takes in the words written on it.

tch, that woman could still pull some tricks at her old age huh. he didn't think she'd still know how to surprise him. the paper was burned away on a candle flame. he wonders if he'd see his wandering wife on his travels with his taoist-hyung. would they all share a drink at the teahouse when they do? oh he hoped so. there's not much things to look forward to at this age, so at least give him some stories and a meal.

ah. he should let his taoist-hyung know about this too. before it slipped out of that old head of his.

#enihkwrites #rotbb #rotmhs #return of the mount hua sect #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade #dang bo #tang bo #return of the blossoming blade x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #dang bo x reader #tang bo x reader #gonna be real with you idk why i even wrote this #idk how i even had the idea to write this #it's more like a “tb was definitely married so how would that rls go with him and his potential wife”#*shakes the fic* pspspspspsps come get your fix loves

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