#illusion about his mother and family. like we know he is aware of things but just kinda shuts it down and ignores it

[jamethinks]

Sitting, Eating and Breastmilk: An examination of the Desmonds family dinner

**cw for discussion of abuse, manipulation, and vague mentions of disordered eating**

Lots of things to note about the interactions of the family in the recent chapter and how that reflects their dynamic and Donovan's control over the family.

I am by no means smart, just chatty. Media analysis is a skill I am trying to develop slowly... very slowly. Bear with me.

Also unedited hehe let's see how many times I forget to negate a word and just fucked everything up *tiktok smirk emoji*

Firstly, we will observe the sitting positions.

On the right hand side of the table we have Donovan, the head of the table. Right side being the dominant side it further affirms his position of power over his family. Furthermore it gives him full view of his family. He can see all of them, clearly. At some point we see him scan the room, checking to ensure everyone is acting correctly.

On the opposite side, we have Melinda. Although she is also at the head of the she's on the left hand side aka the non dominant side. If we were to use our left as our dominant side, we would be scorned and discriminated against, right is right. This is reflective of her role as the mother. She's technically in a command position, but it's one with no power whatsoever. She has power, but it's limited. If she tries to gain more, she will be met with scorn. She is also in direct view of Donovan, meaning he is especially aware of everything she does.

Then there is Demetrius. Demetrius is seated on the northern(? I do not know my cardinals, lmao) side of the table. This is again a dominant position in the family. He's sat closest to the head of the household. While Damian is a scion, Demetrius is the heir expected to follow in his father's footsteps and inherit his power. Demetrius' proximity to his father is also harmful. Donovan is very attached to Demetrius in a way that may seem like he cares for him more, but it simply opens Deme up more to his father's abuse. Remember Damian's words about his father spending more time with Deme as a child, that one panel of him staring at Deme as his works (staring is a bit unfair though that's just how his eyes look). So on paper, Demetrius is seeming in the best position but in reality he has the worst luck.

Lastly, there's Damian. He's sat closest to his mother on the south side. While his brother is closest to the head of the household, he's closest to the tail. He is at the least powerful position of the table, reflecting his nothingness to his family. He's also sat far away from his father, which is part of Donovan's approach to abusing Damian. Negligence. By completely ignoring his son, he forces damian to actively seek out his attention (and affection). Damian spends most of his time trying to get closer to his father w/o realizing he's in a position of complete submission. It also forces him to envy his brother, who again seems to be the closest to his father. Damian has to depend on mother who despite the illusion of being equal to Donovan, has nothing to offer in support of her son. In the end, Damian is forced to sit there alone.

The next angle is food.

Demetrius eats his food quietly and at a proper pace. He ignores everything around him and just eats his food. Deme is a simple man. He does as he is told and moves on. He studies hard and achieves a lot. He's composed and emotionless, exactly what his father wants him to be. He's the perfect son. Emotionally stunted and isolated, focusing on the task at hand and nothing more. He doesn't even spare a glance at his mother or brother. When he's finished, he gets up and leaves, probably going back to work.

Donovan, eats ig idk I wasn't watching him.

Melinda doesn't eat much and only drinks. This can be taken a lot of ways. The main way I interpret it will be spoken on later, but let's look at the other two options. One is that she's too disgusted by her husband to eat. The situation is so unbearable that it completely suppresses her diet. The other option is that she can't. Dietary control and eating disorders are a very patriarchal way of controlling and abusing someone. Again, she's in a direct line of sight to her husband. She can't eat a lot of food because, as a woman, she isn't supposed to. She should stay weak and feeble and hungry, with a constant state of need and submission.

Damian eats at a somewhat slow pace. He's young, and kids are known for being complicated when it comes to eating. They're slow with most tasks as their still learning and trying to figure it out. He's the last to "finish" and by the end, he's left alone by the table. His father's parting comments indicate that he was trying to eat faster to meet up with his family but failed in the end. Donovan subtly reminds him of his position, the slow and last one. That he shouldn't try to shake up the dynamic.

The last detail I wanted to touch on was the interactions between Melinda and Damian.*

Background: Breastmilk is a naturally produced substance by mammals that is used to feed and nurture their young. Mammals have a unique relationship with their young, often found to have genuine bonds and love for their offspring compared to most other animals. In the case of humans, our evolutionary bond with our young is far more complicated. Babies are born underdeveloped compared to most species, can't walk, can't talk, can't even shit right. They're useless. But because of how intelligent humans are, our young can be so useless and dependent since we have the capacity to care. Thus, however, it results in an extensive dependence on the mother/primary caregiver.

Breast milk is a bit of a magical substance. When feeding, babies will spitback (don't ask me how) milk and the mother's body will analyze it to check the needs of the baby and adjust the contents accordingly (again don't ask me, just look it up. This allows the mother to feed her baby, bond with them, and keep them healthy by ensuring they have all the nutrients they need.

Throughout the dinner scene, Melinda doesn't eat and spends most of the night sipping wine. Meanwhile, Damian is constantly shooting signs that he needs her help. By not eating, Melinda is limiting the amount of nutrients available in her body, preventing her from being able to feed him (i.e., attend to his needs). If she did try, it would come a cost, draining her of what little she has for herself. Furthermore, by consuming alcohol she's making the milk unsuitable for him, meaning it would also bring him harm.

Obviously, breastmilk is a metaphor for love and care (?). Melinda can't offer Dmaian what he needs with harming the both of them. It inadvertently still causes them harm (Melinda starves and is now filled with alcohol which is bad, yk). It's a lose-lose situation, one perfectly orchestrated by Donovan. Although she's suffering in this moment, Melinda still plays his little game, afraid of what worse consequences come from defiance.

Damian's perspective:

Given his age and lack of experience, Damian clearly doesn't understand what's going on around him. At the end, he asks Jeeves what his father meant by worthwhile. In the Japanese version, he asks it in the hiragana (?) Way aka the more simplified version of Japanese written language (man Google it fuck off). Again, he's too young to understand the words and approaches ir from a more juvenile angle.

This is how he will continue to process his interactions with his family. His scope is limited, and his adoration for his father will cloud his ability to understand his father's actions, automatically assigning bias to him. This will eventually cause him to resent and avoid his family. He won't see his mother as scared but simply cold, rejecting him for no clear reason. His brother is also cold but also gets the love and attention he craves from his father. Think about him not helping his brother with his homework (academics being the avenue to get his father's attention and validation), essentially blocking Damian from what he believes in the key to getting closer to his father, blocking him from having a relationship. A selfish way of safeguarding his position as the heir with no care for his brother.

In the end, Damian will resent his family for abandoning him. When he acknowledges that his father was, in fact, abusive (if he notices), he will further resent his family for not protecting him or helping. The difference between each form of abuse makes each member unaware of the violence the others are exposed to. This ensure they can never bond or team up against him, too busy competing with one another.

Unedited, early morning rant. You all be safe now. No photos either. You will sit here and read.

*breast milk is being discussed in a more metaphorical sense. Some of the points made lean heavily into natalism and bio essentialism (?). So, just for my sake, this is not a full reflection of my opinions on breastfeeding. It's a complicated social issue that's very integral in the oppression of women/mothers. It's a very nuanced issue, but for the sake of brevity, I looked at it from a more general and simplistic angle, focusing on what's relevant for the comparison. Obviously, Damian is 6, so this isn't an actual issue for him. Just a way to model the relationship b/w parent (primary care giver to be specific) and child. I don't even agree with some of the sentiments I shared lmao just take it with a grain of salt.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s Songs (XX): No Body No Crime.

Imagine you uncover Aemond Targaryen’s crimes… until you fall in his trap.

Warnings: smut, incest, drama, fluffy endings.

***

• He did it. He did it…

You enjoy more than what’s appropriate how he indecently holds you, like an unprotected boy who needs assurance of firm, truthful affections. Your body is warmer when his strong arms snake around your waist, unintentionally brushing against your nipples underneath your nightgown.

You wish you did not feel it. It’s sinful, notwithstanding this is an old practice in your family. However, under the sphere of influence of your mother makes you feel repulse at it. Or it’s what you tell yourself since the repulse is only because he doesn’t see you the way you might.

That night you cannot breathe. His breath is hot against your neck, you hear his snore, and you wish you were as pure as your elder sister Helaena. But it appears your innocence exists only on the outside.

As Aemond presses his body on you, your thoughts drift at an alternative universe where he would kiss your neck and explore your nipples with his hands… whispering things you’ve only heard doing with his…whore.

You grumble under your breath, turning subtly and in quiet riot on him. Then the fire dragon dies subsequently at the sweet face your eyes scan, that face whose features conceal an alluring darkness that draws you to him.

Your twin. Your other half, your partner, whose soul is linked to yours for reasons unknown. As you watch him sleep, with no eye-patch to his away his scar, you read through him.

You know why he comes at you instead of her and this gives you small percentages of pleasure, a deliciously tasted illusion upon which the desires of your heart drink to.

As you pull away discreetly the few silver locks that fall on his face, you mumble, lips barely touching:

“Must you always beseech war, my prince?”

And you feel tempted to add that in you he finds peace, but you say nothing, not when you spot tragedy crudely exposed. When he hugs you, it is as if moon and sun meet. It is as if an eclipse rises…

***

• We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine. Este's been losing sleep. Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity. She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth". "That ain't my jewelry on our joint account". No, there ain't no doubt. I think I'm gonna call him out…

“Infidelity is not always physical, but an aching that begins at the heart”, your sister muses at you in one of these days she gets into your brain like a prophetess.

She looks into your eyes as if she can read your future. What she may not know is that you too possess the ability of dreaming. It just comes perhaps in other shades.

“Treason often starts with ill intentions, whichever these may be”, you agree.

Yet, the conversation disrupts something that troubles your conscience. Specially when you know what he’s about to do, what path Aemond is going to take and in many ways it’s treacherous and horrendous. But you are comprehensive at it.

Later the same day, as you walk to the gardens, Aemond comes to meet you. It’s a sight to behold, the embodiment of innocence—a stark contrast to the darkness there is in him.

“Y/Nickname”, his husky voice startles you, but he sees how easily affected you are towards him.

A good observer like him needs little to see. He’s aware of how your body reacts to his, how synchronized you both are, sharing a unique connection that always binds him to you.

“Aemond, darling”, you turn abruptly and without thinking twice you run to him.

He smiles to himself as he is engulfed in your arms, tasting a rare sentiment of peace that only your company provides him. For some reason, the prince admonishes himself for letting be easily dragged into your kindness, mesmerized by your alluring beauty that matches his dragon fire.

Cleaning his thoughts, Aemond has to remember himself the reason why he’s here. Reluctantly he parts, his heart aching when detecting sadness in your eyes, aware of how attached you are to him.

“I need a favor.”

“Of course you do.”

Aemond blushes, fighting away remorse.

“Don’t look at me like that, my sweet. You know you’re the only one of this family I trust, aside Helaena, but it’s with you I am connected to, emotionally and carnally.”

You sigh, hands resting on your waist. Aemond’s good eye seems to see you as who you are, not as the epitome of handsomeness, but as the woman you’ve become. The gown you dress is silk green with short sleeves, showing some cleavage. He swallows, fighting away this strange urge of possessing you right here right there.

“Tell me, what’s it you require of me?”

“How you speak it makes me sound I only come for you to pursuit redemption for my sins. Though now that it occurs me this may be true.” He chuckles, but there is no joy in him. It’s when his true self comes to surface. “I think I’ve started a war.”

You barely blink, and every sexual tension in the air dissipates as you pale. You are suddenly dizzy and Aemond has to hold your elbows, leading you to a spot nearby.

“D-Do not think ill of me, I ask you this”, he begs, never before looking nor sounding so fragile.

You soften at him, cupping his cheeks before resting your forehead against his.

“I shall not, this I assure you. I suspect I’ve always sensed somehow due to our bond.”

Aemond’s long hands stroke your hair before sliding to your neck, there hesitating for a few seconds before breaking into an embrace in complete ignorance of how deeply he affects you.

“How can you be so good to me? I do not deserve you, Y/Nickname. You’re the only one who understands me”, so he snorts. “How can this be?”

You should not say it, nor think it, but Aemond is not entirely surprised when he hears these next words of you:

“You are my other half, Aemond. I could never refuse you anything.”

You close your eyes, subtly agreeing to be the one to hold his darkest secrets. The prince doesn’t know it yet, but he loves you for it.

***

• I think he did it but I just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime but I ain't letting up until the day I die. No, no. I think he did it. No, no. He did it…

You are bathing yourself at a lake with your sister. With no witnesses, both of you are deprived of your clothes, chuckling at such a defiant moment, aware this would raise your mother’s sharp reprehension.

It’s when he comes, since Aemond is sent to summon you and Helaena. The moment he finds you with your long locks completely wet, exposed in such a state under the sunlights… he freezes.

Aemond’s good eye stares at the happiness glinting behind your lilac gaze, watching how you throw yourself at the grass before standing and getting ready to dive in. He lingers at the sight of your firm breasts and large hips, good thighs to hold on.

His body may react at it. Worse than being mesmerized by you is that he’s caught staring at you.

“Aemond!”, you let a cry out, instantly going red before diving in.

Trying to conceal his boner, Aemond too blushes. Not until now he realized how easily you affect him. He clears his throat before saying:

“Mother is summoning.”

And then like the wind he disappears, leaving a hole where there is a heart beating in your chest.

“I think he’s fond of you”, says Helaena in giggles. “Marry him and the merrier you’ll be, dear sister.”

You hate how red your face is.

“Allow me to disagree, my beloved. Haven’t you heard he’s taken to his bed a bastard named Alys Rivers?”

The Queen laughs quietly at the jealousy that escapes your reasoning. You swim for a little more before getting yourselves dressed, back to meet your mother.

“Carnal needs are hardly met by the ones of the heart, my sister.” And then, before you two disappear into the castle, she mysteriously whispers: “You are the one he needs the most… considering the wayward path the gods chose him to follow.”

*

• Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen and I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me ("She was with me dude"). Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy…

You omit his illicit affairs, not judging him for doing so. You watch as your mother, Queen Alicent, scowls at her dysfunctional children for their misbehavior on a war she attempted to prevent—more likely as she addresses the word to Aegon and Aemond.

Civil war has brokered out and the Seven Kingdoms bleed for Lucerys Velaryon. However, no judgement is found in your eyes as Aemond is scowled upon.

“You should be married to a noblewoman by now”, she says. “Perhaps a Baratheon lady, since this is a house loyal to us. Don’t give me this look, Aemond Targaryen, after disgracing us before the Gods.”

You pity his future wife, knowing his heart and flesh are tied to another woman. Aemond sees how quiet you’ve been in comparison to Aegon and Helaena’s odd bubbling and Daeron’s impatience at how this gleefully dinner is going.

“No body has been found”, you dare to raise your voice and instantly every sound dies. Aemond raises eyebrows and so do the others. You blush, but persist in your speech. “How can anyone think Aemond did it?”

Alicent looks at her daughter, puzzled by your sudden defense of your brother.

“My darling child, I’ve always judged you had put your brain to better use.”

You tilt your head.

“Why, my mother. Has the prince my brother spoken anything at all? You assumed he committed a crime by facts that were brought out by our enemies. Give him some credit!”

Opting to believe that your staunch belief that Aemond is innocent by all costs comes rather from your unshakable faith than your cynicism, Alicent limits herself to laugh away your arguments.

“Y/N, I am not tolerating this. Be quiet and meddle not where you are not concerned!”

It’s enough to cast a shadow in your rarely sentimental display. Disappointed, you are back to your seat, missing the thankful gaze Aemond shoots at you.

Yet, restless as you are, the crowed room does not silence you…

Until Gerold Hightower, unusual guest and witness of his Targaryens cousins squabbling, invites you for a dance. This angers the prince, who projects his frustrations at his mother.

Whilst the world burns in flames, you release your energy when you take your cousin’s hand and let be led him to dance, tired of caring, tired of feeling feelings that are the result of others deeds, you just want to be conducted out of this troubled world.

*

It’s late night when Aemond comes to your privy chambers. He needs you, his partner, his other half. The prince needs to reach his particular heaven, to gravitate to his sun.

You are just slipping inside the soft Dornish sheets when he follows you.

“Goodness me!”, you let a cry out when seeing Aemond next to you. “Aemond! I hate when you do that!”

“You don’t!”, he chuckles before poking your sides. “I’ve always done it and you never complained it.”

You squeak, falling into laughters as he tickles your side until you are breathless and laying on his lap.

“What brings you here, Aem?”, you ask him eventually rolling back on your side of bed.

He throws himself back at your bed, hands behind his neck, never unlocking the gaze you hold.

“I missed you”, he takes your fingers and interlock with his. “Your sweet disposition, your wit… everything I cannot be, the embodiment of virtues I cannot possess…”

You turn abruptly at him, and Aemond realizes how beautiful you look under candlelight, with a few locks dropping on your brow. He promptly takes them and puts behind your ear, diving in your lilac eyes and seeing the protest that has been forming in your mind.

“You are good. I know my prince, my other half.”

His gaze lingers at you, but lowers too to your neck. You still wear the necklace he gave you many moons ago, the day you reached ten and three summers. Aemond smirks, peeking your pink nipples that are this close to leave your nightgown.

“You do not what you say”, he quickly looks away, now stroking your cheek. “Such a faithful woman.”

“What a faithless man you’ve become”, you put him to an embrace, caressing his long locks, playing with your hand as he nuzzles against your neck, which makes you shake lightly.

Aemond cannot help a smile, feeling what you feel. This unusual connection never ended, he sees it now. It remains strong enough to erase him… the woman he’d publicly made his paramour.

As if you read his thoughts, you speak with a hint of disdain in your voice:

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”

Aemond detects the poorly dissimulated jealousy he finds in you and it makes him smile. You two really complete the other.

“What makes you think I have another place to be at?”

He now plays with the necklace and you pretend you do not feel that old ache rising to burn what’s between your legs. Aemond, however, spots the moment your nipples get hard. He sighs in content, pleased to have his confirmation. But the prince is in no rush to stop enjoying it.

He remembers the day he had an inter course with lady Alys and it does scare him that he came to climax thinking of you.

Aemond blushes at the memory.

“We all know the woman you are devoted to”, you say, gently turning against him in a manner to push him away.

“Come on, now, love. Do not do that”, he pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder, snaking his arms around your waist. “Who am I without my fiercest defender?”

Gently, he places a kiss on top of your shoulder, eyes glued at your face, part of him praying not to be shooed away. You don’t do so, but neither give in as he hopes.

“Somebody’s husband and paramour”, you snark sarcastically, folding your arms.

Aemond chuckles, between annoyed and amused at your words. You try to ignore how suddenly his hand rest in your belly, pushing gently your nightgown as in a way to make you look at him.

You feel your breasts are about to leave the cloth that covers each, so you are about to adjust yourself when you find yourself locked in his arms. It doesn’t help you how he puts a knee to part your legs and discreetly lay in your womanhood.

Which of course messes with your reason, but you still hesitate.

“What do you think you are doing? Do you take me as your whore?!”, you frown, already moody because fire now burns your belly.

“Never”, Aemond scoffs at you, speaking more seriously now. “I meant every word I said. You are dear to me, my sweet loving sister to whom I devout myself to.”

You sigh, unsure what to say. You rest your head against his shoulder now, unknowing what to say.

“I think you keep too much to yourself”, he whispers, gently pressing his knee into your womanhood, earning a gasp that makes him smirk.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”, you protest rather weakly.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?”, he looks down at you, his fingers now stroking your face before letting his index finger brush over your rosy lips.

“Notice what?”, by now your voice betrays you and almost unconsciously you rub onto his knee.

Aemond holds back a heavy sigh, sensing a boner growing the moment you suck his finger.

“You know what”, he takes it out of your lips and lifting your nightgown, slowly inserts it in your core. “There is no need to repress yourself, my love.”

You flutter your eyelashes, barely believing in what is happening. Your mouth forms an “o��� as his finger investigates you, sliding farther before being joined by a second finger.

“Heavens!”, you throw your head back at the pillow, his gaze burning you.

“Yes”, he looks at your mouth, wondering what’s like to kiss it, to taste your tongue, but the prince is patient. Even if it arouses him to an unbearable point where his boner is troubling his self control. “Burn with me. It’s something you have always wanted haven’t you?”

He smirks as you arch your back, giving in completely.

“How’d you know?”, you ask in between whimpers.

Closing the distance between your lips, he says:

“What you feel I feel. The fire burning you inside, consuming desperately all that you heave…”, he bites your bottom lip, increasing the pace of his fingering. “I felt it too. You should have woken me up, told me countless times…”

“Aemond!”, you whimper under his good care of you.

No words are needed to be said. The moment his lips collide against yours coincides with when your legs are heavier, as if you are levitating, and then…

Every tension dissipates.

“I love you”. Aemond whispers against your ear, cuddling you protectively.

Rolling onto him, you kiss him again.

“I love you”, you mewl under his care, locking him still with your legs as his hands help removing you out of your nightgown.

“That day I spotted you at the lake”, says he, whose famine hands are now pursuing your freed nipples, which make you moan quite loudly. “Got me into another woman’s bed that wasn’t yours.”

You purr under his words, forsaking reason and good sense at your best. It is insensible to fight your heart’s desire, to not be consumed by the fire as he burns you with the other part of you he possesses so well.

“Aemond”, you moan out his name as his hands begin to play with your weak spots.

When he’s with you, no need there is to conceal who he truly is. His eye-patch is not there to hide away his scar, as well as others begin to be seen when your hand removes his clothes.

“Will you stay?”, you ask, insecurity shadowing the moment m.

Aemond looks into your eyes as he holds your face with both hands.

“Yes, my sweet princess. I shall make you my wife…”

“Lawfully”, you hint at refusing becoming his mistress.

Aemond chuckles.

“Lawfully”, he agrees.

So he kisses you.

***

• They think she did it but they just can't prove it. She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime…

You are there when another crime happens. Aemond has been committed to his word. You are going to be espoused by your twin, thus respecting the Targaryen tradition that has been followed for ages.

But to every great delight is followed by a greater torment.

You are the one looking after your niece and nephew with your sister today. She’s been occupied with sewing and you are noticing sadness growing so suddenly in her features. You know what cause is there—you dreamed about it too, the loss of the precious Jaehaera and her twin Jaehaerys. The image daunts you.

As if moved by strange instinct, you summon them:

“My darlings, come here. I want to show you something…”

It happens very fast. Before the twins come to you, the royal privy chambers are taken by two strangers. Lowborn men dressing nothing but wickedness in their eyes take possess of the heirs of the crown.

“My children!”, Helaena squeaks. “Lords, please! Give them back to me!”

You try to get to the door, but not only it’s locked as the man who holds Jaehaerys slaps hard on your face, making you fall.

“An eye for an eye… But maybe this can be prevented if you choose one of your children to be saved!”

You panic, and so does Helaena. The older one that smells bad and holds a fanciful dagger says:

“Well? Beauty is not eternal, Madame. So perhaps you’d like to continue the lineage with your prince and let your princess attend the divine call?”

“This is not a divine call”, you scream. “It’s a crime!”

You try to find a weapon to avenge your sister, who is too nervous and shocked, having a breakdown at the scene, but the next thing you know you get yourself to a fight.

The next event was not predicted by Helaena. You jump into the back of the man who’s kidnapping Jaehaerys and thus release the boy. As you try to steal the man’s dagger, you manage to hurt him, which makes his partner get himself distracted and promoted to help him.

Whatever the case, you are not Aemond and your lack of strength is only an advantage to cause distraction. It works, but at what cost?

Soon the blade meets your belly and screams are heard like a haunted ghost throughout the castle. The sound is not yours, but Helaena’s.

Your beloved sister is about to lose her best friend for the sake of a dynasty that was damned from the beginning.

Your mind goes blank, though. All you remember is the days spent in relatively peace, quiet and studying, always omitting Aemond’s sins and ensuring these never reached your mother’s knowledge.

As you gasp in pain, weeping silently as your murderer twists the dagger in you. Believing your body will be disappeared after your last breath, Aemond will not know a crime has occurred.

Is your sacrifice worth of this dusted and dysfunctional family you are part of? When thinking of the safety of your nephews and the love you received of Aemond, you believe so.

Then you comfortably slip out of your conscience.

***

For some reason, you are spared by the Gods. Aemond is there next to you, concern stamping his features. It softens though when you move your hand, surprised to find it holding his.

“Y/N! Y/Nickname!”, you see tears in his good eye when he reaches for you, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought I lost you. I…”

He could not say another word. Still shaken for finding yourself alive and well, you have nothing to say as he rocks you in his arms. Only then you look at him, confused.

“What happened? I thought…”, and then you remember the events of that evening and you start to panic. “Aemond! The children, where are…?”

“Shh, shh…”, says the prince, kissing your lips gently. “No need to stress yourself over this matter, love. All has been resolved and our nephews are well. You are well and y his is mostly important.”

You snuggle onto his arms, weeping silently. Aemond understands what you’ve gone through, having spent the last days in great distress. He could not fight a war knowing you are not well. He could not bear in mind a world where you are not part of it.

Later you’d know Aemond rescued you because of the strong bond you two share. When he was about to fly Vhagar, he felt an excruciating pain flinch over his body, a terror that tormented his reason. Quickly he understood this was about you, that you needed him.

By the time he arrived at the Great Tower of the Red Keep, you have been just under a terrible attack that nearly costed your wife. The attackers escaped but Aemond hunted them down—after ensuring you were under the best care of the best men of the realm—and personally ensured to execute such criminals.

As he did, Aemond knew who was the responsible for sending these two after his nephew and niece. The prince soon found his uncle Daemon’s whereabouts and a fight followed—to no avail, although Daemon was forced to seek exile.

The blacks are now momentarily defeated and now all of your family are present in Aemond’s privy bedchambers—to where you were taken—looking after you.

“My dear girl. How imprudent of you to behave the way you did”, Alicent is weeping since the moment she saw you are awake. “I frightened for you. I prayed for your soul. I… My sweet Y/N! I have no words for what you’ve done and the great pain you made me suffer! Do you care so little about your life?”

Before you could give her an answer, which includes an apology, another teary relative comes to your sight. The Queen Helaena rushes to your side before carefully holding you in her arms.

“I didn’t see it coming, please forgive me!”

“There’s nothing to forgive. What it matters is that they are well… aren’t they?”

“They are”, a male, embargoed voice joins the party. It’s Aegon’s. “Y/N, your loyalty has always been the most admirable trait of a sweet heart none but Helaena possesses genuinely. Thank you.”

It’s an emotional scene, a reward for a duty you’ve never expected to earn. Aemond is there by your left side, him too sharing your sentiments. It is clear by now that what one feels, so does the other.

But what a greater victory there is to rejoice now than the harmony of the Dowager Queen and her children?

You know it… because you’ve dreamt it.

***

• Epilogue.

Harrenhal Castle, many years later.

No more shadows nor sorrows since war came to an end. For once every enemy is defeated and the king reigns uncontestedly with his family by his side.

Politics here, politics there, a rival to your man’s love is nowhere to be seen. Some of the servants believe you possess the same wickedness there is in Lord Aemond’s heart, for since you and him were married, Alys Rivers has gone to dust. Where has she gone, the ambitious witch?

A name that doesn’t remain in anyone’s mind when your Valyrian beauty is seen inside and out of the Castle. You are a good landowner and you do your charity.

You earn the epithet of “the good lady wife of Aemond, the kinslayer”. But you do not mind it. Not when you rule your household… and him.

Whilst children are fast asleep, you are found in great intimacy with your lord husband. In nude state, you sit at the edge of your bed, subduing him at your will.

“Aemond!”, you throw your head back, going insane at the wonderfulness his tongue does inside your womanhood, dancing around your clit until he drinks all the liquid you provide him. “Oh, oh Aem…!”

You gently push his face to your core, arching your back as that familiar wave rises from your already levitating thighs… before crushing in your belly. And you almost scream, had he not placed a hand over your mouth.

Soon after, he doesn’t let you take a break and promptly slides inside you, making you whimper and squint in surprise.

“My lady is soaked!”, Aemond pushed you by your thighs, his tone so indecently hot that you squirm and drop back in bed. “Goodness me, woman!”

The prince groans loud, throbbing right into you, watching you with lust and desire as you are about to get undone again. Specially when he intercalates his deep thrusts with his fingers.

“Sing it to me”, he now inclines his body over yours, both of you soaked. Aemond wraps a hand around your neck, holding it the way you like him to all the whilst slapping your bum respectfully. He’s about to come undone himself. “Yes, wife!”

And to his surprise, you lock him with your legs and turn positions. Barely you begin to ride him, though, when both of you reach orgasm.

“This was so good!”, Aemond cries out before making out with you passionately.

He then helps you come to his side, and there your bodies remain interlocked.

“I think we conceived”, you muse mischievously.

Aemond is cuddling onto you, holding you tightly close. You don’t mind his sweat, so mixed to yours that smell as one. You love him intently so and he feels it.

“I don’t mind if we do”, he chuckles. “The more, the merrier.”

One exchange of glances is enough to express how one feels for the other. It makes you happy, it contents him likewise. No signs of war, no crimes to be slandered of. No more.

It’s all good. Perfectly good…

[pageofheartdj]

SOOOO

We know there were supposed to be two more turtles, right? I don’t know the turtle lore but people have names: Venus and Jennika!

They would be their own characters, like everyone else in Rise so thankfully I don’t have to know much turle lore for this xD

FIRST. The ages! Wanna the girls to be the oldest sisters cause that would be funny xD And give Raph yet another existential crisis! He is not a leader anymore and he is not the oldest sibling anymore xD Mikey - 14, Donnie and Leo - 15, Raph - 16, Venus - 17, Jennika - 18.

Now, we know like 99% where is one of the turtles.

I wonder if Big Mama knows. There is a chance she doesn’t since she didn’t try once to pull anything with Lou. She probably found a turtle baby and took her in thinking she is a yokai and raised as her assistent. I hc her to be Venus.

The next own is my top favourite headcanon I will NEVER let go until canon says otherwise xD

JESSICA! Sounds suspiciously like Jennika xD And as far as I remember she is the only not-background girl who doesn’t have lipstick and in general her mouth is more wide, turtle-like. Now that makes me wonder what does this mean for her character and her not giving anything away to Leo. She described Leo’s look like a costume. Is she not aware or lying? And she herself looks like a human and I don’t see any cloaking brooch on her.

Their weapons probably would be from comics. With Venus wielding tessen? and Jennika wielding kuzuri?

NOW! The more specific headcanons xD Jennika is a bit taller than the twins and Venus is slightly shorter than the twins. yes kjsha

Their mystic abilities.

I don’t have much xD I would give Jennika illusions because she has to look like a human SOMEHOW. Would be cool for her to discover it on her own early on. I am curious how she ended up on the surface. Personal hc for now: she was found by a human and was took in and because she looked like a turtle she couldn’t get out and was home schooled by her overworked mom. That made her determined to learn how to fend for herself. She unlocked her mystic abilities, got into Lou Jitsu movies(everyone has to have it as a part of their childhood!!) and eventually got into wrestling where her showmanship’s strike was revealed and she quickly earned a stable job in there. She dislikes her turtleness and that’s why she refused to engage with Leo further.

And Venus? How about magnetic field. She can pull things in to herself and push them back for extra speed and damage. What if she did not discover it yet because of the repressed life style despite living among yokais. She also knew of Lou Jitsu and secretely idolized him. Though she knew about him not from movies from the human world, but from his fights in Nexus. She also unconsciously envied him for ‘getting away’. She is still loyal to Big Mama.

Now the relationships with the fam once they are discovered.

Jennika is very loyal to her mother but she is not interested in such a sudden big family. She is not much into it but is dragged anyway xD She can bond with Raph over their love for wrestling and will be openly critical about Leo’s humour(yes the Neon Leon xD) and not respect the squirt. Mikey will be fawning over her and she will be a bad influence on him, she likes him though, he is funky xD Donnie isn’t sure about her and constanly goes back and forth between liking her and being sus xD And she tries to use him which is not THAT hard xD (not malicious intent and hey the kid can get something out of it too xD)

Venus is... she WANTS a family but she doesn’t really know how to have one. The proper one. She is very much into hierarchy so she will be supportive with Leo being sort of adviser for him, but will shut Raph down, which will frustrate him. Mikey will be frustrated with her too, since he will try to be as open and welcoming with her as possible but she is just unreachable. She isn’t used to show her real emotions and frankly she doesn’t know how and doesn’t reciprocate Mikey’s attempts in inclusion. She will get along with Donnie very nicely though. Since Donnie doesn’t push himself on her and she is very interested in his science since she was deprived of human things.

[dramoor]

I want thank ALL of the lovely people for their kind birthday wishes for me today on my 60th birthday.

I am the luckiest man in the world. I have a wonderful partner in life, my beautiful wife Patricia and three lovely daughters; Elle, Miranda and Madeline.

Today, I am reminded of what Dr. M Scott Peck told me over 30 years ago: At 40, you feel like you can conquer the world and there’s a sense that nothing can stop you.

But at 60 you realize the very real fragility of life and temporariness of it all. A humbling knowledge that there is indeed a time limit for all things and that God’s design though perfect, is precious far beyond its brevity.

Today, I am also reminded of the Hindu story that my friend Bill from Lowell Arkansas told me about a man at his funeral. Looking at the man, “Would this man lying here ask for more riches and Gold from the world? Would this man ask to be more famous and well regarded by others? Would he ask to be taller or look more handsome? No. The only thing this man lying here today would ask for was much simpler…more time.”

If you are reading this now, then you too have time! Use it wisely, use it unwisely too! But USE it. Be IN it. Be aware that you are part of ALL of it and that the separateness you sometimes feel is an illusion. Just as your heart beats without being told, you are as integral to the Sun that fires and the planets that circle it as your heart is a part of you.

For the atheists, God loves you too. The mistake you make is to think the universe is a stupid thing that just bumps into things and expands ignorantly and without reason or intelligence. And that somehow we human beings, with our intelligence is just some kind of ‘freak’ universal accident. To you I say this, if there is such a thing as kindness, empathy, compassion and love…it is because you found it in other people.

And as my dear friend Norm Macdonald once said, “We are part of this universe, indeed a mere fraction of it, so if we have kindness and love, how much more the universe itself.” For if we are capable of love, it is because it is endemic to the universe itself.

To quote Alan Watts, “For we didn’t come ‘in’ to the world, we came ‘out’ of it. We are the universe evolving to the point of consciousness, so that the universe, us, can experience existence and life in all it’s wonder and beauty and glorious exuberance.”

Lastly, as I am a new convert to Catholicism, I offer my apology for my lack of Christ’s forgiveness to my fellow man. I was so angry at the people who shut down schools and indeed the world and who coerced others to do things against their will which hurt many people deeply. I offer my unconditional forgiveness and amnesty.

For how can I stay mad at the famous singer who would not let others in to his Broadway show unless they had an experiential jab. I will never forget how kind he was to me and my friends when he was the musical guest on SNL.

How can I continue to hold a grudge against the actor who shamed people like me but has been such a great example for other actors to never give up and keep fighting for their dreams.

How can I still be mad at the lovely actress that said she could no longer be friends with people like me who didn’t ‘get’ it, knowing how incredibly kind she is with every child she meets.

I am humbled by the example of my mother Pilar and how she was able to forgive the WW2 occupiers of her Philippines who killed both her brothers.

At last it is forgiveness itself that is the gift that we give ourselves because it frees us as The Christ intends for all of us to be free. For His gift of ultimate and unlimited forgiveness is indeed the gift for all humanity.

May God bless you and your families now and forever.

With all my “You can do it” love, Robbie Schneider

(X - twitter post Oct. 31, 2023)

[heroes-of-olympus-next-gen]

Day 3: Christmas cookies

Annabeth entered her house after a long day at the office. She had the illusion that people would ease up for the holidays, but the opposite was happening. Anxious and worried about Christmas, they wanted their houses on unreasonable timelines. Making her life a living hell.

At least her house smelled like heaven. She started walking towards the kitchen where she was sure was the source of the glorious smell. “What’s that smell? Are you making cookies?” She asked as she saw her two toddlers covered in cookie dough and her mother-in-law taking a batch of cookies from the oven.

“It was Percy’s idea. He is upstairs with Theo.” Sally said. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you my loves?” She turned her attention to her toddlers who seemed over the moon with their afternoon activity. She walked closer to them paying attention to what they are doing.

“We’re making cookies for Santa.” Zoe replied covered with flour. She was putting all of her energy like making cookies was the most important thing in the world. Well, If you considered how much her dad and grandma loved baking it wasn’t really a surprise.

“Do you want to try some?” Charlie gave her a plate that was next to him.

“Thank you.” She said as she tried one of them. Sally’s Christmas cookies were always heavenly and one of her favourite family traditions. “They are amazing. Good job guys. Do you want me to do anything?”

“Nope.” Zoe added as she focused on the dough in front of her. “You can sit here.” She motioned to the chair next to the kitchen island.

At the same time, Percy came downstairs, holding Theo in his arms. “Hey love. Did you see the cookies?” He quickly kissed her as Theo started reaching out to her. Annabeth took him from her husband’s arms and cuddled him.

“Daddy, you aren’t helping.” Zoe said while Charlie nodded in agreement.

“I’m coming.” Percy put more ingredients to the blender to make more dough. As always her family was going overboard with baked goods. Not that she was complaining as she loved eating them.

“The oven is ready for the next batch.” Sally said as she placed the previous cookies to one of the disks.

Percy reached to get one warm cookie only to hear Zoe’s gasp. “Those cookies were for Santa!” She panicked.

“My darling, the cookies will go stale if we leave them on the plate. Santa won’t come for another week.” Percy tried to calm her down.

“But-but what if we don’t have any cookies left.”

“We’re going to put some aside especially for Santa. Don’t worry.” Annabeth comforted her daughter.

“Okay then.”

At the end of their baking session, they were left with nearly 150 cookies. They had definitely gone overboard. Zoe and Charlie fell asleep on the couch which meant Annabeth and Percy had the kitchen all to themselves.

“I’m going to take some cookies to work. To lift the moods and everything.” Annabeth said as she put twenty cookies to a tin box. “Who’s going to eat all of them?”

“Zoe wants to give cookies to Bianca and to the rest of her preschool. I have already eaten 5.”

“I ate 6.”

Percy looked at her sideways. “How did you eat more than me? I’m impressed. The student has surpassed the master.”

“I was the student?” Annabeth raised her eyebrow.

“And I was the master.”

“Nope, that’s not right. Sally is the master.”

“I see what you did there.”

“Where did you put Santa’s cookies?”

“In the jar on the counter.”

“Speaking of Santa, we have to buy the rest of the gifts.” Annabeth said.

“What do we have left?”

“The lightsabres which will ruin my lamps. The mat for Theo and the doll Zoe wants.”

“We can go tomorrow. I can pick you up after work and then we can go out and eat dinner. My mum can look after the kids.”

“Are you sure? I think we call her way too often.”

“She made it crystal clear that she wants more time with her grandkids. Besides, Zoe and Charlie will be with Colin and Bianca until 6. We don’t have to stay out late. We can go to the Italian Place we wanted to try.”

“Alright. I love you. You know it, right?”

“I’m aware. I love you too, love.”

[nefamphetamine]

chainsaw man deep dive: chapter 1

warning: there will be spoilers for the entire manga since this is a rereading. all aspects of csm will be discussed in full detail.

two words basically sum up chapter 1: "poor denji".

the first thing i noticed that i didn't pay as much attention to during my first read through is how fujimoto added the physical details of denji's less than ideal condition: he's thin and bony, and has undereye circles. it fits where we find denji at this point of time; starving, sick with the illness that killed his mother, and recovering from illegal organ extraction procedures to cover his late father's debt.

beyond that, we're immediately introduced to the 3 important themes in denji's life summed up briefly here: the things a person wants and the things a person needs in order to live well and happily.

these themes are:

money

stability

love/acceptance/validation, which I'll just shove under the umbrella of "unconditional love"

these three needs motivate every interaction denji has with the world around him.

money

denji is essentially a slave to the yakuza who will kill him if he tries to escape the immense debt his father left him with. he has no family, no role models, no education, and yet he doesn't seem as bitter as you'd think someone in his situation would be. and that's because of pochita, who is not only a devil contracted to him but loyal family. they live together, work together, and dream of a better life together.

despite all of his troubles, denji's characterization is made known to us through the words of the people around him. he's obedient (and described as such numerous times in chapter 1 alone) and grateful even when he doesn't need to be.

he's also naive and loyal, and is aware of the inevitability of his situation.

stability

this goes without saying. denji wants what most people would consider the bare minimum. a roof over his head, basic food (toast and jam), and to act his age (stay in his room and play games).

but he has none of this, so pochita listens to him intently, doing what he can to ease denji's burdens. pochita is awesome emotional support.

unfortunately, to make matters worse, denji's life gets cut even shorter when he suddenly starts coughing up blood. he doesn't even have time to process that he's got his mother's terminal illness before he's called over by his yakuza handler to hunt another devil.

this is precarious balance between denji's idealism and his inevitable short, brutal death is shown really poignantly in the panel below. all denji wants is to just be able to hold onto the illusion that things can be alright as long as he keeps chipping away. it doesn't matter that he'll most likely die young, whether it's because he's an amateur devil hunter, or at the hands of the yakuza, or by his mother's sickness, or his body giving out from the starvation and surgeries. he only wants his three basic needs met.

unconditional love

fujimoto is clever about how he portrays this, in that he never explicitly states what denji wants. maybe it would be more accurate to say that he doesn't allow denji to know what he himself truly wants. fujimoto leaves it to us to do the math.

this is refreshing since a lot of manga, shounen in particular, are afraid to let the audience think.

fujimoto's choice to introduce denji this way serves to beat an important trait that foreshadows a twist we see at the end of part 1.

it tell us that denji isnt very self aware, and that its in some ways unintentionally, but in other ways it absolutely is.

denji is young, naive despite his exposure to the worst of the world, and he's the type to put the worst experiences into a tiny little box deep within his mind.

or, more accurately, lock it behind a door.

this is how denji copes with his life. this is how he's survived. and so far it's served him well. if he were to think hard on the terrible things he's done and has been forced to do, he'd crumble. fujimoto expresses this from the very first chapter in a very unique, humane manner.

im going to go so far as to say its particularly refreshing to see such depth given to a male protagonist. it defies genre tropes and expectations.

now, to slightly shift gears a bit, denji's sexual desires are, from the very beginning, indistinguishable from any other desire he has to connect, particularly with women. fujimoto's usage of the pervert trope is a fantastic way to introduce denji's complex, heavy, and tragic character to an audience without boring them with angst. it also allows for maximum usage of the medium to show the various ways human connection can be explored. even more significant is that we get to see this through the lens of someone who has limited social conditioning, a high degree of plasticity, and little understanding of what himself and what he ultimately desires.

I'll continue to expand on this later.

denji the dog

funnily enough, everything we've been shown about denji are classical traits of dogs. i didnt think much of these comparisons during my first read because "mongrel", for example, is a fairly common insult thrown around, especially in anime. but fujimoto chooses his words carefully (although i unfortunately cant read japanese so im relying on translations), and these choices are multifaceted with long-reaching narrative implications.

basically, if you know you know. since this is only the first chapter I'll just move on until there's a more appropriate time to elaborate.

the warehouse

denji's life could not get worse, except it did because he died. and it was NOT a peaceful death.

i get that this was necessary for the plot to move forward but for all the shit the yakuza made denji go through, this just feels like a piss poor call.

i guess if he's really sure he can make that much more money giving up his bodily autonomy to the zombie devil for some level of strength, go ham. knowing the public safety bureau would get on his ass would be enough deterrent if i were him, though.

either way, denji dies, and pochita is tossed with him like garbage into the dumpster. pochita, loyal companion that he is, uses his energy to permanently merge with denji as his heart. pochita is now denji's life force. and for the second time, they form a contract.

pochita grew to truly love denji and selflessly wishes for him to realize his dreams and live happily.

once they're fused, chainsaw man is born.

and then we get a hilarious reaction from the ZOMBIE devil, who is unironically disgusted as denji's zombified state:

a great moment of levity.

also this dude:

classy.

now we get some incredible, gory shots of what's essentially chaotic ultraviolence as denji rips through the zombies like paper.

and finally, as denji stands alone in the darkness of the warehouse, tired and victorious, the sun begins to rise and in comes makima.

makima the angel?

i really love this panel. the way the men are standing behind makima, the long shadows, the chaos of the battle. its just really well done.

most importantly though, is this last panel:

denji in the darkness, makima stepping into the shadow with him.

the pages leading up to this play with light in a fantastic way. fujimoto uses the visual medium of the manga to show us that makima is eerie, sinister, and even confusing. she's charming but cruel, and she doesn't care to hide it.

she doesn't need to. everyone loves her anyway.

and now that makima is about to make all of denji's dreams come true, so does he.

[thuriweaver]

When did your OC first know they were polyamorous? 

How many partners does your OC have? How did they all meet?

So I'm answering these for my Warrior of Light from FFXIV, R'aelyn Vahe. She's a Keeper of the Moon miqo'te (catpeople) with a Seeker of the Sun father. And since I have a "canon" version of her and several AU ones, depending, these are based around the verse @maplelantern and I call the "PolyAm AU" which is an alternate version of Etheryis that's more fantasy adventure without the calamities and ascians and MSQ plotline going on. So we can just have fun and play.

When did your OC first know they were polyamorous? 

So miqo'te culture is canonically rather interesting--there are two main clans, the Keepers and the Seekers. Keeper family groups are traditionally the mother and maybe a few other adult females raising their young together and only seeing males to mate. Seeker family groups are like lion prides--one or two males and a group of females.

R'aelyn grew up in a Keeper group with her mother, her mother's sister, and another female who was her mother's partner all raising all their kids together. And she's aware of how Seeker society works, too. So while she loves romantic stories and tales, she never had that societal expectation that monogamy was the only way. She didn't consider the logistics of her own particular polycule until it developed, but it was no great surprise to her to fall in love with more than one person.

How many partners does your OC have? How did they all meet?

Three total! And strap in, this gets LONG

The first is R'egan, @maplelantern's OC. R'aelyn was playing her lyre in a tavern when some of the drunk patrons got fresh--and R'egan jumped in to defend her, not realizing R'ae had a couple of long daggers hidden under her skirts. They ended up fighting back to back and R'aelyn helped clean up R'egan's bloody nose after. They got to talking and started traveling together and hiring on as caravan guards and other basic adventuring things--though they weren't together at the time. If one of them saw someone she liked, they'd spend the night with them and then move on. R'aelyn was definitely attracted to and interested in R'egan, but since R'egan had never shown any sign of interest in her, she was content to love her platonically instead.

Second is G'raha Tia (because if you dangle a short redheaded little shit in front of me I cannot resist them, OMG, yes I have a type, blame the Alanna books), though when she first meets him he's in disguise as an older Hyur (human) named Dahn. He claims to be a rich traveler and treasure hunter and hires her and R'egan to guard and guide him on the search for the "Unei's Shrine" where he's hoping to find the mysterious "Coffer of Unei".

They find out partway through the journey--when he helps in a skirmish against some bandits and overreaches himself, breaking his illusions--that he's actually miqo'te about their age, whose right arm is made of crystal--and that the coin he promised them was in fact a bag of rocks. He explains that his family has an affinity for artefacts of the ancients, and he messed with one that gave him a lot of magical power, but also is slowly turning him into crystal. And that he only wants the Coffer, they can keep whatever else they find in the Shrine.

Against her own better judgment, R'ae likes him, and agrees to help anyway. They find the Coffer, it manages to give him control over his power and reverse the crystallization--aside from a patch covering his palm--and they fall hard for each other in the process. Which is when R'egan gets jealous, realizing maybe R'aelyn meant things to her she didn't realize, but also that she likes this G'raha, too, and emotions are bullshit. But eventually they work it out and travel together and have their own little pride which @maplelantern talked about here.

Third and final is Haurchefant Greystone, an unfairly handsome elezen (elf). They meet him when working as guards for a larger caravan going through Coerthas. He's an experienced adventurer/mercenary, who is in charge of the caravan guards--and immediately starts flirting with all three of them, because they are a fascinating little pride and also it's what he does. R'aelyn flirts very happily back and catches G'raha doing the same, and while R'egan seems oblivious to his flirting, she's been staring at him every chance she gets. So the three of them have a meeting about it, to confirm they're all interested and what would they like to do about it? So when the caravan reaches its destination they ask if he has plans for the night and they spend a week or so in bed together. While some noises are made after about going their separate ways, they all blow past it very quickly and their trio becomes a quartet.

(for the "Polyamorous Ship Asks" meme)

[girltomboy]

I feel irritable lately and a little disconnected from my partner. Like all was fine and then I had a talk with his mom and it made me a little pessimistic. On the one hand it's actually useful for me to hear things from her perspective, but on the other hand her perspective is sometimes so far away from mine. She actually wishes we would BOTH move to his hometown, that has to be one of the most insane ideas that anyone has ever verbalized to me. Don't get it twisted, my family had a similar idea, but they wanted me to move to cities that are NEAR the city where they live, not the actual same one. Or my hometown. Just nearby, and their idea only involved ME. And I think she thinks I want to work in customer support for the rest of my life, and the "connections" my partner's family has will help us both. I just can't imagine working a job that someone pulled strings to get me? Imagine the pressure and the lifelessness. I mean, not that most jobs aren't lifeless, but at least when you find a job that's lifeless. You found it, right? When someone else finds it for you I just feel like it's even more torturous. And she doesn't seem to think or care about the fact that I have a life here. My life isn't just my boyfriend, it's me, my friends, and the things that I do. And if our relationship ever goes south, I can't imagine a worse city I could be in by myself than his hometown. I threw up in my mouth a little at the idea, but I didn't say anything about it because I know that's just her parental illusion that will never materialize, and my boyfriend would laugh at that idea too. Another thing she said that left me dumbfounded was the implication that if my boyfriend and I were to move in together, he would be more responsible for my sake. We had a talk a while ago about this, and we established that when he finally moves to this city it would be better for him to live on his own for a while just to get used to being independent from his family. Like just to taste that satisfaction that comes from sustaining yourself as an adult. My boyfriend agreed and we haven't reopened the subject of moving in together after that. So I really dgaf if he were to be responsible "for my sake", I never even took that idea into account. He's gonna live alone for a while and be responsible for himself just like I and everyone we know did and does. I don't know why sometimes she acts as if he's an incompetent child, like it's not even just that she treats him as one (she does), it's like she WANTS him to be an immature, incompetent child. And I get the impression that she expects me to parent him sometimes. Remind him to do basic things, motivate him, insist, teach him basic concepts and things, and I didn't even have the heart to tell her that the day I realize I have to PARENT my PARTNER is the day I will walk away. She sometimes talks to me as if I'm his second mother. And idk how to break it to her that I'm not and will never be that for her son, or any man. And that I don't have to "put up" with anything, I don't have any motherly duties toward him. But anyway, what I meant by it making me a little pessimistic, is I became aware of the possibilities that my partner might, in the future, be unable to step up and fulfill his partnership duties, and that might drive me away from him. And the idea has been eating at me and I feel a little distant. Btw his job contract ends next week, and he still hasn't started looking for a place to live here. He hasn't even mentioned it once so far. The city will soon be swarming with students desperate for a roof over their heads, just like him, and the landlords are already rubbing their hands to raise rent prices to the moon. So it just makes me feel like his mom's prophecy is starting to take shape, and I'm the only one making efforts for this relationship to break the confines of its long-distance status.

[trashlie]

For ILY, when you mentioned the potential time skips that’ll happen after the flashback and party chapters, I can’t help but wonder what we’ll se a-tip do. Is he just going to spend all night fatigued and burnt out trying to find Nolan? Will the time skips just show him on a repeating routine of his job in Japan (accommodated thanks to yui)? Will yui notice how close shin-ae and Nolan have gotten and try to kill her the same way she certainly did to Nessa? I don’t trust any therapist thrown to Nolan while he’s in jail.

And I have a feeling rand doesn’t know the whole picture of how much q-tip does to express his disdain for Nolan. He really thought the relationship would play out as a simple love-hate dynamic where the colder, older figure warms up the the younger, cheerful little one.

I wonder if one of q-tips breaking points is trying to get rand angry at him by revealing all the ways he treats Nolan like garbage, such as trashing the name rand and nessa meaningfully gave to Nolan. If Nolan just expresses his own, depressingly deflated self hatred to how he wished he raised his boys better, that might be a final nail in the coffin. We already saw how q-tip reacted when rand only expressed concern and comfort for q-tip rather than volcanic anger.

Oh man, this is a really good ask!

I'll be honest - I don't have the strongest grasp on what I think we're going to see from Kousuke in the future, yet. This is partly because despite everything, Kousuke is still rather unpredictable to me, but also because, something I think you're getting at, it kind of depends on what is going on with Kousuke, right?

We're finally getting to see a couple things with this arc.

A. Like you noted, Rand is only starting to really see his sons - not just in the way he wants to see them, but starting to realize the long-term effects he ignored for so long. Nol is far more messed up than Rand ever imagined, and I hope he's beginning to realize the role he played in that, how he left his son alone and isolated, and berated him at every turn. Ironically, I think Rand's intentions were much like Nol's to Shinae - that if he distanced himself, it would protect Nol, and Yui wouldn't mess with him as much. For a while, I think it was true! Nol seemed to be living, more or less, peacefully, coasting by with Nana. He didn't have to help at the family business yet and there probably weren't a lot of family dinners he was required at. I can't remember if this is so, but when Nol saw Yui at the arcade, he looked really surprised, and scared. I have to dig, but maybe Yui hadn't been around much until that point, or at least Nol didn't have to be around the family as much? At any rate, I think from the time of The Incident (aka whatever it is that happened between Kousuke and Nol that got Nol institutionalized) after Nol started to live with Nana until Shinae entered the picture, I think Nol WAS pretty "safe" and I'm sure Rand thought that keeping him at arm's length was doing it. But Yui clearly isn't content to let Nol be content, is she? The Kim formal kicked off the Chess Theory, and it can be presumed that from this night forward, Rand and Yui are playing for different teams, with Rand aware that Nol is in danger. Despite that, he had no idea how bad a state Nol was in. I'm guessing this whole time he's been blinded by the lies he's been telling himself - that all of this is for the best, that he's doing all he is able to for Nol - and when he learns of Nol's pool jump incident, he's finally being forced to reckon the truth: that he did not do everything he could to protect Nol.

B. To that same vein, yes, he's finally seeing that there is no room for a peaceful resolve between Kousuke and Nol on his own. I agree that he always thought in time Kousuke and Nol would be able to become brothers, that love would grow between them, and that the animosity would go away, but in the same way he was willfully ignorant of how bad a situation Nol was in, he was blinded to Kousuke's true feelings. I think he's always sensed that Yui was poisoning Kousuke's mind and tried to counterbalance it, but it never worked. I guess that's probably part of why he had Kousuke watch over Nol - hoping some affection would develop, never realizing the impact it had on Kousuke, never realizing what Nol represented to him. Idk, I REALLY love that episode a LOT - it confirmed so much of what I thought about Kousuke. It's not explicit, but Kousuke definitely thinks that Rand cares more about Nol, and that he, Kousuke, has to earn Rand's favor and affection by doing what he asks but also by playing nice with Nol, and I think Rand can finally see that, too. In his mind, he's only ever wanted Kousuke to be happy - he was not the one who placed so much pressure on his shoulders to be successful or follow in his footsteps, to become a workaholic with no life outside of his career.

C. Kousuke is definitely moving closer to a breaking point, but as always, I cannot predict what it will be, or when. I've had so, so many thoughts on this! Sometimes I think he's going to find himself overwhelmed with his job and will break, finally realizing that he doesn't actually know if he ever wanted this, find that he's in over his head, he's moved so fast in his career all in effort to impress his father and earn his affection. Sometimes I think his breaking point has to do with Yui and realizing how much of his life was orchestrated, how much she molded him into the person he is. The way she filled Kousuke's head with ideas, like how work is more important to Rand, that love must be earned like a prize, that the only way to reach his father was to emulate him so he could earn his trust. We, as readers, know it's not true, but Kousuke still hasn't figured it out. That's why he's so baffled and freaked out after the phone call. In his mind, disappointing Rand means earning his ire, it means he has failed, it means he has moved backwards. He doesn't realize that everything he's doing means nothing - that what Rand wanted for him wasn't to jump through hoops and grind his way to the top. He doesn't realize that Rand would love him regardless, because of how deeply ingrained it is, and I still think that will play into a breakdown for him one day. How do you deal with that? With realizing that you've spent so much effort, that you've blinded yourself to anything but what you were ingrained with? Yui told Kousuke, essentially, that Rand will not love or trust or respect him until he's earned it, so for Rand to tell him he loves him regardless, when Kousuke feels like he's failed..... how does he compute that?

I had wondered before if Kousuke and Hansuke would wind up at the party, but... I don't think so. The phone call with Rand rattled Kousuke and worked him up too much. He doesn't deal with his emotions well at all - he compartmentalizes them and anything that makes him feel small or vulnerable he tries to shove away, but he can't do that with this one. That's why he reacts so often with anger - irritability when he can't, or won't, let himself feel sadness or despair. He's confused and doesn't feel right, so I'm guessing they may wind up taking a taxi and leave? I imagine if Nol winds up joining the party, Yujing will text Kousuke or Hansuke to let them know, and.... maybe Kousuke would leave it at that? Ordinarily I think he'd go to the party to yank Nol out of there for what he did, but after the call with Rand I think he might not. I could be very wrong lol but I just can't see him joining the party when he feels so many kinds of upset, you know? Still, I think Hansuke will do his best to make him go lol

So as for Kousuke's FUTURE. I guess this is where we get into a couple potentials. Our first, small time jump is supposed to get us a few months ahead, to Shinae's graduation, Nol's release, and potentially Yujing's big story. Kousuke goes to Japan and takes up his new position. How does it go? Does he do well? Is it everything he was hoping it would be? Will he find nepotism once more sneaking in, making it an easier job than he wanted? Will Yujing's prediction come true and he find himself overwhelmed, not yet ready for this role he's moved too quickly into? If he's doing well, then nothing changes - this remains his trajectory. If it's nepotism making his job too easy, relieving him of his responsibility, he may feel agitated. Kousuke likes to feel like he's earned everything, that he's putting in the work, that he's capable of something. Would he be happy in a role where, by virtue of being a Hirahara, he is paid just to... exist? To be a figurehead? I can't imagine so. That could create some kind of fissure cracks for him, make him start wondering if this is what he truly wants. If he's not performing well, if he indeed has moved too fast, isn't yet ready, buckles under the immense responsibility and additional stress it brings to his, frankly, already overwhelming and stressful state lol, he's going to break. Image is vital to Kousuke, and if he's not doing well, he's going to believe it means everyone will know he's not ready maybe believe everyone is talking about him, and he'll return to that period of extreme stress and paranoia, until he snaps and breaks again, and then everything is all up in the air from that point lol.

That SAID, I think Yujing's story is a potential wrench here that is going to shake things up and set the stage for the rest of our story.

We know that Yujing is going after the Hiraharas and the target is Yui. I don't think Kousuke is so much a target of hers, but I think there's potential for him to be caught in the cross-fires, simply by relation and some of the things Yujing seems to be digging into. She's really digging into things: not just the incident with Nol and Kousuke when they were younger, but she tells Manli that she thinks she'll be satisfied with what she digs up - and we suspect Manli is the friend Yujing has mentioned who also had a daterape incident, which is theorized to be related to Yui. After all, why would Manli be satisfied with what Yujing is working if it wasn't something that might provide her some vindication, or at the very least, the satisfaction of seeing someone who had a role in something awful happening to her called out for her other evils. Yujing had told Manli this story might take several years, but with Nol pleading guilty, they now have 120 days. I'm still not sure why, but at any rate, whatever she's working on is going to land when we have our mini timeskip, and precede the much larger timeskip, hence why I think everything hinges on what Yujing reveals. The way this plot is shaping up, whatever story she is working on will absolutely shape the trajectory and main story of the second half, and obviously, it has to do with Yui.

Now, because we know there will be more story following our timeskip, we know Yujing will not be able to fully take down Yui. Or, rather, if she does manage to make a dent in the Hirahara reputation, it means we will meet an even more menacing Yui in the timeskip, I imagine. So I'm not sure what I think Yujing will manage to dig up, but it's going to be something big that will wind up affecting all of our major players, so I'm not sure where that will leave Kousuke. Will the family reputation be damaged and leave him having to improve it? Will there be a reveal that will finally push him to the breaking point that we've long been anticipating? I know the Yui involved with the Kims theory comes around a lot, and I still don't know if I actually buy into it or just enjoy the drama of it, but can you imagine if Kousuke was to learn that neither of his parents were faithful, that the entire "perfect" premise of his family never existed? GOD that would be so rough for him lol. I mean, obviously I do not know what else is in store for all of the characters at this time, but I can't help but think the period leading up to a big time skip would be one hell of a time to leave Kousuke rethinking his entire life and identity. But, alas, I have a sneaking feeling we will see Kousuke continuing on his current path, and that if he's ever to rethink everything he knows, it's going to happen in the future. Although, now that I've written that, I think something else that needs to be considered is not only what Yujing's story will reveal, but what it might mean for Nol. If it puts Nol in a favorable position, somehow, that would absolutely alter things for Kousuke. Hmmm. I'm so, SO eager to reach the graduation time skip and see EVERYTHING that's in store for us! I know fandom in general was desperately waiting for the balcony scene but I am DYING to see what Yujing is working on. The fact that she's got Meg involved now? I want to see what it is, I want to see how it's going to affect everyone!!!!!

Your question about Kousuke's breaking point is interesting, but I think it might need something else to build up to that to get there? I think he would definitely already have to be in a breaking point to do that, just because we know that pleasing and impressing Rand is so, so very ingrained in him, but yes, definitely if he had snapped and went off on an angry rant as he spiraled? Frankly that sounds.... really sad. Again, I think there would need to be some kind of circumstances for that, and now that Rand is starting to become aware of how he's affected Nol and Kousuke's relationship, how Kousuke really sees Nol, I think he wouldn't try to push that relationship on Kousuke anymore, so there might not be as much room for that kind of breakdown? But then again, I do think if/when Kousuke reaches his breaking point, it's going to be very bad, so maybe there's room for it, yet.

As for Yui taking notice of Nol and Shinae.... idk. I think Yui has some kind of plan for Shinae, though I still have no idea what I think it might be. I just can't get over that episode where Yui was talking about knowing someone who made the wrong choices. A Yui theory I believe in is that she just... hates men because they are afforded all the things she is not, because she has to play a certain role in order to get ahead, because they can hold positions she cannot. She absolutely seems to believe herself above all the men she knows. She also is cunning and manipulative as hell, believing that she knows what's best for everyone. She seems to see something in Shinae that she wants to, idk, mentor or something? Snap the kindness in her and use her strength and resilience to rise to the top? I HONESTLY do not know. But I don't think.... harming her is on the table. Maybe. I'm saying this real loosely lol cos look, Yui is THE character I cannot predict. Kousuke I may struggle with but I have NOTHING for Yui. What does she want? I DON'T KNOW lmao I know everyone believes that Yui's interest in Shinae is related to Nol and Kousuke, but I don't think that's so, and therefore Nol and Shinae's relationship probably wouldn't warrant trying to kill her? lol I think she'd sooner to try to kill Nol than Shinae, frankly.

(Sidebar, but a theory that keeps coming back to haunt me is that Yui had something to do with Shinae's mom, or if Shinhye = Aeri in Alyssa's group, Yui is aware of her sister, or something to do with her family history, but it's all still very vague yet for me, because even if Yui knew Shinae's mom, what could their relationship have been that Yui is interfering in her life? But it would establish more reason for Yui to meddle with Shinae than her involvement with Nol or Kousuke.)

I feel like a lot of this response is SO abstract lol and I apologize for that! There's only so much predicting I can do with what we know yet, and I just feel SO MUCH like Yujing's story is going to throw a big wrench into the plot, and everything we expected and anticipated is going to go out the window lol. There's definitely much to look forward to, yet, and I really, REALLY cannot wait! idk, I'm so excited to see where all the characters are going to be, if Kousuke will be in good standing and we'll have to wait for his breakdown later, or if after the timeskip maybe we could see EVERYONE vs Yui? That would be weirdly satisfying, wouldn't it? Kousuke and Nol begrudgingly working together (LEARNING TO HEAL!!!!!) in order to take down a common "enemy"? Obviously that only works if we see Kousuke finally realize who his mother really is, what she's truly like, and how much he was manipulated when he was a child, but gosh, I can dream can't I? lol Alas, I feel like Kousuke will be one of the last people to leave Yui's side.

[flor-de-un-salon-viejo]

what is the reason i think why kalego is part of iruma's fears

thanks to a post from a few days ago and now that the harvest arc is getting closer in the anime I saw this panel again

and I think that we have not started to analyze the implications of this panel as we should (I was not in the fandom when this arc was broadcast so it is possible that if there was a discussion it is its time but at least I have not seen it)

but first I want to clarify that I am not any kind of expert nor do I think that I am the best at character analysis so this is more like an inference than anything and secondly, English is not my mother tongue, so in long texts like this you may find errors, so I'm sorry.

so starting with the context for those who may have forgotten, iruma is unknowingly hit by the oroba bloodline ability which is to create illusions of the fears or traumas of his victims

In the case of Iruma, his traumas and fears are presented in the form of the people who are important to him, the case of Iruma is curious since for him it was the closest people who appeared, however for the others who suffered due to the ability of Orobas only saw one person and they were the ones they had romantic feelings (this this difference may be because Iruma was attacked by a large amount of magic that should have knocked him out for the remainder of the festival)

I think it is not necessary to analyze much why iruma's parents are the first to appear, they are the cause of all iruma's traumas and survival responses, we are even able to see a little more about how their dynamics worked with iruma dragging iruma to his strange way of life traveling the world only to leave him alone at the slightest opportunity and sending him to earn money to continue with the cycle of traveling and abandoning him We also have Asmodeus and Clara, the first people that he has been able to consider friends and even coming to consider them as soul mates. His biggest fear that he would have regarding his relationship is that they abandon him and reject him for who he is and for the secrets that he has there is also his grandfather and Opera who are his family, those who love him unconditionally and who chose to be his family as well as always showing concern for iruma even though he doesn't really share any drop of blood now saying that they will return him to his parents who never have worried about him, and those who will probably abandon him again as soon as they can

all being obviously fears consistent with the character of iruma but among them is also kalego and I think this is really interesting because what is kalego for iruma? and why is kalego the one that appears? and no balam who is the one who knows the secret of iruma

It would make more sense for it to be balam because he is the one who knows humans, he knows that iruma is one and that the underworld is dangerous for him, in addition to having a more friendly relationship with iruma and even so the one who appears is kalego

so what is my reasoning for kalego to be the one saying these words?

I think the reason is because kalego represents the closest thing to a father figure for iruma because he is an authoritative figure that he respects and is trustworthy, kalego in his position as teacher wants iruma to get the best out of himself and he has repeatedly said that he can trust him if he is in danger since protecting him is his duty both as a teacher and as a familiar and Iruma knows that and is aware that he will protect him

as an example that iruma really trusts him is the most recent arc when he was surrounded by fear his immediate response was to call kalego this is important because although kalego is his familiar in a case of extreme fear, people as a response to when they are in danger they can shout the names of the people whit they feel safe in order for them to save them even if they are not near their location (I couldn't find the study but the names are not random at least as far as I remember)

so, when kalego tells him you don't belong here he is denying him his security zone he is telling him this is not your place, this is not your house, this is not your family and it never will be because you are not one of us, the person he trusts so much is telling him you don't fit in here

this is unfortunately a common fear, of not belonging to your family or being the one who does not fit in and if kalego were the one who represents a father figure it would make sense that he was the one who said this to iruma

but well at least this is my interpretation as I said before I don't think I'm the best at analyzing character but after thinking for a long time I think this is the reason I personally like it I really would like to know the opinion of others if they think I'm on the right track or if, on the contrary, they have another theory as to why Kalego is here if you get here thanks for reading and sorry if my english is not very good PS: I think maybe for iruma balam it's more like a mother hen XD

[feathers-blown-in-the-wind]

Passion : S5 ep 7

The Adrien subplot

Passion qualifies into the very restricted category of Adrien-centric episodes and boy does it do it well.

Adrien's subplot at the beginning seems to be about his crush : he wakes up thinking of Marinette, he draws her on his mirror, he throws himself against a wall and sighs her name dreamily... One thing is clear : this boy is down, and when he is down he is down bad.

Cue the breakfast scene where we first see Adrien hang out with his father, ever probably. I'm not gonna focus on it too much since most of it is Gabenath-centered but

Adrien's relationship with his father is still quite strained and it's clear he doesn't really know how to act. He says yes to the banana despite clearly not wanting it (which is later confirmed by Nathalie) and overall seems very eager to make sure his father has no reason to be displeased. Adrien wants to meet his father in the middle because Gabriel is clearly trying and Adrien doesn't want him to think he's ungrateful. It seems to imply that whatever happened in illusion didn't make Gabriel an obvious vilain to Adrien, that there is still plausible deniability about him working with a terrorist. (That or Gabriel being sick overweighs Adrien's anger)

Nathalie comes into the scene looking for him and Gabriel warmly welcomes her. While we later get what Gabriel is trying to do with this tactic, Adrien doesn't. We see him focus on Nathalie wearing one of the Graham rings and the overall atmosphere leads him to the conclusion that his father is finally moving forward (which is true but not in the way we could hope). Adrien is now pretty convinced that Gabenath is canon and he now has a new mother.

Now what happens after the breakfast scene kickstarts his subplot. Adrien, still very much simping over Marinette, wonders about what he should do to confess. Should he just tell her ? Should he write her a letter like they do in books ? He's not exactly sure and decides to ask one of the few person he can while at home : Nathalie. However Nathalie is, and has been since season 3 getting sicker and sicker and right when they are breaching the topic of Adrien's crush, she goes into a coughing fit. Adrien panics then and realises that, despite how the breakfast made it seem like he finally has a family, Nathalie has the same symptoms his mother had and might just disappear too. Nathalie denies being sick and tells him to run along and get to school.

Adrien now has two different topics to worry about : his crush and Nathalie's illness. The answer comes in the form of, you guessed it, Marinette. He approaches her and begins to talk about Nathalie and his worries. Marinette listens and advices him to just stay with her and be there for her when she needs it, and overall manages to calm him down a lot. Which reminds Adrien of the other subject that has been running in his mind : Marinette. He begins telling her how special she is to him and how much she has helped and Marinette completely panics and runs away (the why of this reaction will be more at home in a Marinette analysis so I won't go into details here).

Adrien's overthinking is thankfully halted by an akuma. I won't go into the Ladynoir/Misternoire scenes because they have a lot more to do with Marinette's subplot (being about her crush on Chat Noir and his subsequent reaction to it)

And what an akuma it is ! He recognises her as Nathalie (especially since Nathalie has just told him about the whole chassing after artifacts that she used to do in her youth). Obviously Adrien is the only one aware of the situation : Ladybug has no idea this is Nathalie and Nathalie doesn't think she has any connection to Chat Noir.

Nathalie says she has nothing left to lose and oh boy does Adrien disagree. From Nathalie's point of view, we get why she says that : Gabriel has basically guilt-tripped her into helping him because they have nothing left to lose (except Adrien). Adrien obviously dissaproves, and takes a page out of Marinette's advice and tells her that you never have nothing to lose when people care and are there for you (to paraphrase, I only watched the episode once). And even if Nathalie doesn't know it's Adrien, she does a double take at this speech and the camera interestingly focuses on Misterbug's face - that looks very similar to Adrien with his green eyes and blond hair. Do I believe they purposefully made the Nathalie gets akumatised the episode where Adrien's transformation looks the most like he does in his civilian lives ? I'm not saying they didn't at least.

When they can't find the akuma on her, Adrien's insider knowledge is very important : Marinette never could have guessed where the akuma was with one Lucky Charm, there's just too much information she's missing. Luckily though, Adrien has all the infos he needs. Really, his Lucky Charm is exactly what he knew he needed to solve the problem : an alibi of sorts as to why he wants to go to the Agreste's house. Just like in Refleckdoll, Adrien knows what he wants and summons his lucky charm knowing what he has to do (the exact opposite of Marinette, who summons hers when she is at a loss)

His reasoning sounds flimsy at best but he does manage to get to Nathalie's room and captures the akuma with no problem.

The ending scene is where Adrien's subplot resolves itself : he shares a very heart-warming scene with Nathalie; He tells her how much she matters to him, hugs her and is overall a sweetheart. He isn't entirely reassured that Nathalie will be okay, but he sure as hell will show her he cares.

And Nathalie settles herself into the role of a second mother, finally does what Emilie asked her to do : she brings back the "I have a crush" topic and is ready to give all the advice he needs, even if she might not know how to deal with the situation. Adrien is her son in all the ways that matters, and she will help him however she can.

Now we don't know the effects this subplot will have in the future : will it further convince Nathalie that she has to help Gabriel ? Will it do the opposite ? We don't yet know but it certainly reinforces one thing : if she has to choose between winning (saving herself/Emilie/Gabriel) and Adrien, she will choose Adrien with no hesitation. I think it also was a great moment to adress the fact that all of Adrien's parental figures are on their death bed at this point, and he doesn't take well to it.

I believe this episode was the perfect moment to have Adrien and Nathalie's relationship explored and they really hit the mark.

[separatist-apologist]

They Took The Crown But It's Alright

Companion to Call It What You Want To, Ivy edition (with a small excerpt from Soren's chapter- Would You Run Away With Me?)

Never say I don't contribute to this fandom- this is 20k words long. I wrote the majority of it in 12 hours.

Also, I'm so wildly grateful people are still thinking about this fic a year after I wrote it, asking questions and wondering what happened next. Despite how unhinged this fandom is, I am having the best time here.

No graphic, no summary. We die like men. Politely NSFW

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Ivy woke to the sound of pounding on her bedroom door. “Go away!” she yelled, well aware of who was doing the banging. Her cousins had arrived in the Sun Palace the night before and only Nyx would be up so early. “Aren’t you supposed to be a night owl?”

The door opened and Nyx stepped in, his bright blue eyes glittering with amusement. Tendrils of dark followed just behind, sucking up bright rays of light pouring through her window. “I can’t resist the sunlight or you, cousin. Why are you still asleep?”

Ivy sat up while Nyx dropped onto the cream-colored bedding and pushed dark hair from his eyes. He looked just like his father in nearly every way, save for his mother’s eyes. Archeron eyes, Ivy had been told. Ivy wouldn’t know—she was every bit her father, from the long, ruby hair to the russet-colored eyes. She even had his darker coloring and his magic, an unusual combination of fire and sunlight. It was her twin Soren who favored the Archeron lineage; blue gray eyes, fairer skin and their mothers ability for sight. 

“Yvette is going to be here soon,” Nyx interrupted Ivy’s thoughts, his eyes sparking with hope. Yvette was Kallias and Viviane’s daughter, the only child born to the High Lord of Winter and Nyx’s secret crush. Only Ivy knew as far as she could tell, though she was willing to bet Azriel’s son Auden’s shadows had spilled Nyx’s secrets to the rest of their cousins.

“That explains the clothes,” Ivy teased, gesturing towards the finely made black and silver tunic, handsome enough but way too warm for summer in Rhodes. “You’ll boil alive before she ever arrives.”

He shrugged. “As long as I look good beforehand. Get dressed. Don’t make me suffer through breakfast with the High Lord of Spring and his terrible sons.”

Ivy groaned too. Once a year, all the High Lords gathered in one of the Courts and spent a week discussing Prythian, policy, and everything in between. The year before they’d gone to Autumn where Uncle Eris had arranged a week-long festival celebrating Samhain and this year it was his grandfather, who she affectionately referred to as Papa Helion, hosting the High Lord’s and their families. 

He’d planned for the week to fall during the Hunt, one of their more ridiculous holidays in which females took over the city for a day, banishing the males to the sea. The evening culminated in the return of the males, who literally hunted down the women—or the partner of their choice—after finding one of the scarves females tied throughout Rhodes. Ivy had never participated and wasn’t about to start now, adult or not. 

Ivy banished Nyx to bathe and dress, choosing a long, white gown held up by heavy, linked chains above her shoulders. She wrapped gold cord around her waist to tie it all together and give the illusion of curves and allowed her ruby colored hair to fall in long waves down her back. Nyx had worn his silver starred crown and to that end, Ivy wove her own glimmering circlet through her hair, letting a tiny, jeweled sun rest in the middle of her forehead. She wrapped a snake cuff around her arm, knowing her father and grandfather would wear their own, and slid several rings onto her fingers. 

For every other Court in Prythian, it was the male who would eventually inherit the throne. Day was the exception. It was hardly secret that the magic that decided such things had skipped her brother, much to his relief, and had found her worthy. When Helion and her father died, it would be Ivy who ascended. She’d be the first Cauldron-chosen High Lady in living memory, as far as she knew, anyway. She was curious to see Yvette, to see if she was displaying the same magic Ivy was.

Not all the Courts had heirs, like Day and Night did. Winter and Spring and Autumn also had a generation the same age as Nyx and Ivy, but Summer and Dawn did not. Thesan seemed rather pleased to have never had children and Ivy supposed that stemmed from how proud Helion had been when her and her brother had been born. Her Uncle Eris and Aunt Arina had one daughter who was still quite young, little Isolde who was the same age as Spring Courts Aine. Spring Court was an odd place—Tamlin’s two oldest children were sons, his two youngest daughters. Alexander was the eldest, six years older than her and set to take his fathers place. He was the spitting image of his Tamlin in every way. While Ivy had been bred for politics and social niceties, Alexander had been born for war. 

His younger brother Finn was more tolerable, prone to the kind of mischief Soren and Nyx liked to engage in. They might have been friends with different parents. She’d heard the rumors of Finn’s rakish behavior and had seen him sampling the females each year in the different courts. They avoided each other for all the obvious reasons. She was far more partial to moody Saoirse and bright and bubbly Aine, though they rarely came with their brothers and father. 

The problem, for Ivy anyway, was the friendship that existed between her parents. Tamlin and her father, Lucien, had been friends for centuries and when their children were born, patched up their differences after their falling out when her Aunt Feyre had destroyed Spring, and forced Ivy, Soren, and Alexander together. Ivy was twenty-one, the same age her mother had been when she was made Faerie. She couldn’t be forced into unwanted playdates, especially with the brutish males of Spring. 

She left her bedroom and walked smack dab into her grandfather, dressed in a nice chiton and knee length sandals. His golden crown of sunlight sat atop his head, making his dark brown skin seem as though it glowed brighter than he already did. He beamed when he saw her.

“You’re up early,” he commented, throwing a strong arm over her shoulder. Though Helion would never admit it, Ivy firmly believed she was his favorite; of all her siblings, she looked the most like his wife, the former Lady of Autumn and current Lady of Day, Amera. 

“Blame Nyx,” she replied with a bright smile, hoping she glowed half as brightly as he seemed to. Helion’s amber eye’s twinkled. 

“I did see the rapscallion running about. I see not much has changed between the two of you. What shenanigans has he roped you into this time?”

“It’s secret, inter-court business,” she replied much to Helion’s delight. He mimed zipping his lips and Ivy whispered, “He’s hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lady of Winter, Yvette.”

“I’m told she’s become quite beautiful,” Helion half-whispered. “She takes after her mother.”

Ivy shrugged. “She’s too good for him, I’m sure.”

“Ah, but all females are,” Helion replied. “Don’t inform your father I said such a thing, of course.”

As if her dad wouldn’t be the first person to say her mother could have done better. Helion melted away, leaving Ivy to walk alone through the marble halls as early morning light spilled through high, arching windows. Nyx would be waiting on a private patio up on the third floor and while Ivy was anxious to see her cousin, that didn’t stop her from taking the longest route possible. Day Court was stunning, her home far more lovely than anywhere in Prythian. Ivy liked to bask in the warmth, to meander through its ancient, marble halls and imagine herself mistress.

It was a mistake. On the second floor, standing in front of one of the best views of the ocean, was blonde haired, green eyed Alexander. His back was turned to her, broad and muscled from beneath a light blue tunic. A sword hung from a brown belt at his waist and the sight annoyed her. What kind of danger did he expect to find here? 

As though he sensed her, Alexander turned, his serious eyes looking her up and down. Handsome, was her first stupid thought. He’d always been beautiful for a male who didn’t smile. Ivy was grateful he’d left behind his usual baldric of knives and she couldn’t help but notice that there was no golden crown of laurel leaves atop his head that might denote him the heir of Spring.  He never wore it, she thought with a frown.

Her eyes lingered on his full mouth just for a beat. Alexander said nothing at all as he assessed her, his gaze flicking from her head to her feet before he turned away. There was nothing to say, though it was quite rude not to even offer a polite good morning. Ivy scurried off, walking a little quicker than she’d meant to. The only sound was the hard soles of her sandals upon the marble and just as she rounded the corner she looked over her shoulder, surprised to see him looking back at her, too.

She shouldn’t care at all but…something warm bloomed in her chest.

It was sunlight over a garden. It was roses waking from a harsh winter. She shoved that feeling back down, joining a waiting Nyx on the patio, long legs stretched out in front of him casually. He smiled, golden skin basking in the daylight.

“What’s Alexander doing skulking through the halls?” she demanded, still thinking about his too-serious green eyes. She felt Nyx prod against her mind, violet eyes glittering with amusement.

“Maybe he was looking for something,” Nyx replied.

“Don’t be disgusting,” she complained. There had never been any love lost between them, even when she had been forced to spend time in Spring. Alexander, with his knives and his studying and his scowling. Ivy and Soren had each other, had always teamed against him until he locked himself up in the library or took to the garden to avoid them.

Nyx couldn’t argue on that front. The thought of Alexander looking for her was more than repulsive. It was against nature itself to consider him as anything other than an obnoxious adversary. He wasn’t the first beautiful male. He wouldn’t be the last.

“Eat your breakfast,” Nyx demanded, pulling her from her thoughts. “And help me think of ways to annoy him at the meeting later.”

Ivy would have bristled at his bossy tone normally. Today was different and for once, she was all too happy to dream up a little mischief. 

*

Alexander had kept far enough from the Spell-Cleaver-Archeron clan. He had no interest in being subjected to their scorn or their chaos, especially not at his expense. He and his brother Finn were meant to pay for the mistakes of his father, apparently, for eternity. Rhysand had never gotten over it and Nyx wouldn’t, either. Alexander might have forgiven them had their poisonous opinion not tainted all the other courts. Ivy and Soren hated him just as viciously, apparently intending to hold Alexander accountable for their mother’s dip in the Cauldron. He could recall years of their fathers trying to make the three friends as they patched up their own issues, leaving Alexander to the cruel whims of Ivy and the bored pranks of Soren.

No amount of apologizing from his father would ever make it right. It seemed nothing could garner their forgiveness and Alexander was not keen to try. 

One day Ivy would have to interact with him when she was High Lady and he High Lord. He intended to repay her for her kindness then. Still, at times Alexander couldn’t help but envy her and the life she led. It was clear no one cared if Ivy accepted the magic or not and was content to let her decide how her future might play out. Her brother Soren was given free reign to chase his own pursuits. Alexander would have committed an unknown number of atrocities for such freedom. 

He’d never been to Day Court before, having always hosted the Vanserra's in Spring. While his father made the rounds and Finn vanished, likely chasing the first pretty female he laid his eyes on, Alexander had gone looking for a quiet nook in which to find some peace. He’d thought he’d found a little patio high up on the third floor was decent, having tried the garden only to find Elain Archeron strolling the winding path. She'd been nothing but polite, had offered to show him around but Alex had panicked. He wanted to see it, loved the glowing peace and couldn't risk her eldest daughter stumbling in to survey him with her mocking eyes.

So he'd gone up for the open veranda of windows. He should have known Nyx would be waiting. He’d retreated before he could be the butt of any of Nyx’s sharp words, catching sight of the sprawling city from a window just outside the hall. He’d paused, drinking it in. The city was beautiful, set atop a hill overlooking a vast, sparkling ocean.

And then Ivy had arrived. Every inch of her was a Day Court princess—his eyes snagged against the glowing brown of her skin, contrasted with the wine red of her tumbling red hair. Russet eyes widened with surprise, assessing at him just as carefully. She was stunning, daylight personified. If anyone had ever been born to live beneath the sun, it was her. He'd had the most curious urge to reach out and run his fingers through her hair.

She said nothing, to his relief, foregoing her usual taunts. He turned away from her, a mixture of relieved and disappointed when he heard the slap of her sandals taking her away. Something soft snagged in his chest, fluttering gently like a feather. He couldn’t help but watch her go, eyes lingering on the sway of her hips. She hesitated at the sharp corner of the hall, looking over her shoulder.

Their eyes met for another moment before she vanished entirely. She was going to Nyx, her counterpart in Night. He had no intention of sticking around for that. Alexander turned on his heel, wondering if it made him a coward. 

He didn’t get far. Soren caught him on the steps, a basket of curling ivy in his hands. Soren paused, sinking to his knees when his eyes frosted over. He was a Seer, famously so just like his mother. Alexander had heard the stories but to see it in person was something else. He lunged on the steps, banging his knee roughly on the marble to keep Soren from smashing his head open the same way.

The male was out for only a moment before he blinked, laying amid his overturned basket. Alexander let him go carefully, stepping around his limp body before he could be accused of hurting the Day Court prince. Soren rounded on him, abandoning his plants to follow just behind. 

“Can I help you?” Alexander demanded, reaching the bottom step with a racing heart.

Soren shook his head, watching Alexander curiously.

“My sister means well, you know,” he finally said. “You should go easy on her.”

Alexander scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Soren only shrugged, clearly finished with their exchange. “It’s only a thought.”

Soren vanished without another word, leaving Alexander to wonder what, exactly, the younger male had seen in his vision. Alexander knew one thing, though. Going easy on Ivy was like dipping a bloodied hand into shark infested waters. If she sensed any weakness at all she’d strike, demolishing him before he had a chance to blink. 

He found his father wrangling not just Finn, but Saoirse too, just outside the large meeting room they were all expected to sit in. “This is not the place,” Tamlin warned, his finger too close to Finn’s scowling face. “You know what they think of us.”

“I don’t care,” Saoirse replied, her pretty voice a near match for their mothers. Finn knew better than to anger their father but Saoirse’s temper was legendary, matched only by little Aine. Speaking of—

“Where is Aine?” Alexander asked, drawing the attention off his younger siblings and on to himself. 

His father’s face darkened and Alexander understood his blunder. The assumption was they’d been together. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Finn said quickly, eyeing the carved, golden doors behind them. “This court is crawling with children.”

There was no time to argue, not when Helion arrived. He was cordial, kind even. His Autumn Court wife never stopped smiling, her pretty face sweeping over the four of them as thought to assess the interlopers standing in the hall. Tamlin quickly informed Helion of his missing child and her unfortunate habit of shifting into a bear when the mood took her. The High Lord’s wife slipped from his side after caressing his arm with reassurance.

“Amera is an expert in tracking wayward children,” Helion assured them with a twinkle in his amber eyes. Alexander almost smiled at the sight before remembering who Helion was to Ivy and Soren. He didn’t trust any of them. 

Helion pushed open the door, letting Alexander and Finn take a seat as far from Rhysand as they could. Tamlin didn’t seem to care as much, sitting just beside Finn a mere four chairs from the General of the Night Court. Cassian and Nesta. Lord and Lady Death. He knew them all by virtue of his training to be High Lord. Their eldest daughter Elyn had her wings tucked tight against the navy blue of her high collared dress. She was the spitting image of her father, from her long, dark braided hair to her hazel colored eyes. She was talking quietly to the shadowsingers son Auden, watching at whatever he scribbled on a nearby piece of paper.

Nearby, Yvette from Winter Court was sandwiched between her parents, relaxed as she listened to them catching up with Morrigan. Helion took his place at the front of the table just beside his son Lucien, murmuring whispered words. The other Archeron women– Elain and Feyre–stood beside a large, arched window talking animatedly, unaware of how their mates eyes continued to dart towards them, just to be sure they were fine.

Nyx swept in first, dropping beside his father with a grin. They were an identical pair save for Nyx’s icy blue eyes. Maybe that was, in part, why Alexander hated him so. Nyx was merely a minature version of his asshole father, born it seemed just to taunt Alex. Ivy was the last in, practically apologetic, a blonde child resting on her hip. Alexander knew that little girl, arms twined around Ivy’s neck, a protruding bruise marring her otherwise pretty face.

“I found a bear,” she told her father, sitting on the other side of Helion with a pretty smile. “I didn’t know bears were allowed to roam the halls of Day Court.”

“That’s Aine,” Alexander said before he could stop himself. For the second time that day, Ivy looked up at him with those unreadable eyes. Aine, hearing his tone, buried her face further against the slim, flawless neck of Ivy Spell-Cleaver.

“My apologies, lord, but I’m certain you’re mistaken. This is a bear,” Ivy argued, eyes narrowing. Aine giggled, not daring to look at him. The sight of Ivy holding a blonde child was making his chest ache though he didn’t understand why. He looked away towards his father, who was smiling with a soft sort of fondness Alexander didn’t see very often. 

Still trying to untangle his weird feelings around Ivy, who switched between rapt attention and softly tickling his little sister, Alexander hadn’t absorbed a word being spoken. He had no interest in any of this, couldn’t understand how anyone did. Soren hadn’t been made to participate, didn’t need to care about any of it. Beside him, Finn at least jotted down notes, ever the studious scholar. Alexander felt adrift in his own life, a leaf on the wind. He’d done everything his father ever asked by virtue of being the eldest. He’d led war bands, he’d learned a multitude of languages and the history of Prythian. He knew which fork to use depending on the food being served and how to himself among courtiers and High Lords. Sometimes he thought every inch of him was just his fathers design. What, he wondered, did he really know about himself?

Alexander sighed softly, suddenly aware every single eye was looking at him. He blinked, looking to Ivy who stared back expectantly, still holding his youngest sister in her lap.

“Tell them, son,” Tamlin prodded. 

“About the border,” Finn added with a sharp elbow. 

“Ah…” he began, still staring at Ivy. Something sparked in russet-colored eyes and she nodded her head as though encouraging him to say anything. He wanted to impress her so badly that something overcame him.

“The humans have abandoned their iron weapons for ash and have found a way to produce faebane without conducting raids. Whether the continent supplies it to them or they’ve found a way to grow it, I’m not sure. What I do know is one of my better skilled units was ambushed in the night….ten were killed. No humans were injured per our laws, and we were unable to take any hostage. They’ve become more sophisticated, bolder.”

It was Rhysand that drew his eyes from Ivy. “One random contingent of—”

“It’s not random,” Alexander interrupted with frustration. “It’s regimented and well organized and the attacks are increasing. They’ve destroyed several villages…they’ve taken hostages.”

“I want to see it,” Rhysand drawled. “Would you agree to showing my son?”

Alexander nodded tightly, his mood lightening ever so slightly when Helion added, “Send Ivy, as well.”

He looked back up at Ivy, unsurprised to see the disappointment on her face. 

Alexander should have felt it, too.

*

“Don’t make me go,” Ivy pleaded with her dad as her mother packed for her. “I hate Spring. Send Soren.”

“The other courts trust you more than they trust Nyx,” her father explained patiently. “They trust our family. It’s important to know what, exactly, is happening. I trust you. This will be good practice for your future.”

Her chest ached. Alexander had left the day before without so much as a word, taking his delightful sister with him. All the other courts were still here, would remain for the rest of the week. Just Spring felt themselves above everyone else, too good to mingle with the common folk. Perhaps she ought to be grateful for that given how pulled she felt to Alexander. It wasn’t just her, either. Soren, after years of helping her taunt Alexander, had spent the evening with Finn, of all people, creating mischief in Rhodes. 

“Can’t you—”

“No,” Lucien Vanserra’s eyes were cutting. She wanted to be High Lady, had begged and pleaded for the best education Prythian had to offer. Her father had taken her up on it and now Ivy would be made to prove it hadn't been wasted. . Nyx, at least, would be joining her, though she knew she would be expected to behave herself like a future High Lady and not like a wild child running barefoot through the countryside with her favorite cousin.

Nyx said nothing when Ivy found him the next morning, picking a piece of lint from his black tunic. She stepped beside him in her long, white dress with a sigh.

“Two days, max,” Nyx told her with a grimace. “Father swore it.”

Nyx looked glumly over the city rising with the dawn. “He thinks I don’t comport myself like a future High Lord ought to. Uncle Lucien is supposed to shape me up.”

“You and me both,” she commiserated. “I can be nice if you can.”

Nyx scowled, wiping the expression from his face the moment their father met them at the top of the steps. Lucien glanced outwards, dressed in pristine white from head to toe. “Ready?” he asked.

Nyx and Ivy nodded wordlessly, clasping hands so Lucien would be forced to winnow them all. Darkness gobbled them up, taking them from the oppressive morning heat of Day Court summer to the fresh, warm lilac breeze of early morning Spring. It was jarring to Ivy, who hadn’t seen the rolling, grassy hills in a good decade at least. Nyx, too, blinked against the pinkish glow of morning, his black boots crunching against the gravel drive. 

Her father was already walking towards the sprawling ivory manor, his former home once upon a time. Nyx and Ivy trailed behind him. How had he stood it, she wondered? How had this place been home for over a century? Even Autumn made more sense to her. Ivy preferred the blistering heat of Day Court to every other place and struggled to picture the severe, brutal Alexander frolicking in this place.

The Lady of Spring was waiting, her pretty lilac dress floating on a breeze. Soft brown curls blew about her lovely, fair face and Ivy wondered if she was happy. She could tell, from how still Nyx stood, that he wondered the same. She certainly looked it, beaming with pleasure as she led them in. Ivy had heard she was a commoner, had met the High Lord by accident and wondered if that was true.

“Welcome,” she murmured, so soft spoken her voice was practically lost to the lilac scented air around them. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Ivy looked up at her cousin, aware her face must have the same skeptical look to it. Beside her, Lucien bowed gracefully before stepping into the estate, leaving her and Nyx to fend for themselves. They both gaped for a moment before Ivy remembered this female had done nothing wrong. She didn’t deserve to be on the other end of their feud with her husband. 

“You’re kind, Lady,” Ivy finally murmured, drawing on her training. She was, after all, still her father’s daughter and somehow her father had lived with him for a century or more before he’d met her mother. Nyx was clearly thinking the same, his blue eyes looking around, stunned perhaps that his mother had ever spent a minute somewhere as placid.

This place makes me uncomfortable, Nyx’s voice floated through her mind. She’d forgotten he could speak to her like this.

It’s so quiet, she agreed.

The empty halls unnerved her, too. Day was bustling, busy, and full of talking, of laughter, of music. 

“Please. My name is Adelina—”

“Lady Adelina,” Tamlin’s voice interrupted as he turned a corner. Both Nyx and Ivy stopped, confronted with the man who had done so much harm to their mothers. He assessed them, too, as though looking for any of the defiance that marked the Archeron’s. He knew Ivy well enough, paid her only a passing glance before his eyes settled firmly on Nyx.

I hate him, Nyx snarled. Ivy said nothing though she shared the sentiment. 

“Welcome to Spring,” Tamlin told them, the warmth in his voice unmatched by the coldness of his eyes.

Nyx cringed softly beside her. Ivy could do this. She was the daughter of Lucien Spell-Cleaver after all. Had Lucien ever once let his personal feelings get in the way of duty? Ivy smiled sweetly.

“We promise to take up as little of your time as possible. Truly, High Lord, this is too generous and we are forever grateful.”

Her words caught him off guard. “It…it’s nothing,” he replied and Ivy could see how her father had managed to live so long with Tamlin. Tamlin had none of her fathers talent for words, for social graces. 

Alexander is just like his father, she thought with more than a little wonder.

Why does that matter? Nyx asked, still in her head. She shoved him out before he gleaned any other information. 

“I have given you your fathers old room,” Lady Adelina informed them, smiling sweetly at her husband. “And your mothers. I thought perhaps…you might like to know more about them and their time here.”

A muscle worked itself in Tamlin’s jaw but he stepped aside and allowed his Lady to continue their descent upwards. Ivy took her room first, momentarily stunned at how much of her father still seemed to linger. It smelled just like him. Nyx, too, peered inside with curiosity before walking away, down the opposite end of the hall. 

It was strange to imagine a life in which her father was Autumn or Spring. To her, he’d only ever been the son of the High Lord of Day. Her father, happily married to her mother. He was the male who’d carried her atop his shoulders and thrown her off cliffs into sun warmed sea water. The male who built sandcastles and taught her how to lace her sandals. Who’d shown her how command wind and fire and sunlight, who taught her to read and to determine who lied and who told the truth. 

How had he stood it, she wondered not for the first time, running her fingers over dusty books stacked on shelves? She picked up an old forgotten dagger when a knock on the door turned her around.

“Can you believe our parents—” She froze, because it wasn’t Nyx who stood in the doorway, but tall, foreboding Alexander. She swallowed, watching his eyes drift from her face to the knife in her hand. 

“Can…do you have a moment?” he asked, quietly closing the door behind him. 

“I suppose,” she replied, that same strange pulling tugging in her gut. Alexander didn’t move an inch. It was as if she repulsed him. It hurt her feelings a little. Surely he couldn’t do better?

He didn’t speak. Silence stretched around them and finally, “Do you and Nyx plan to share a tent?”

“Oh.”

Confusion flitted over his face and, annoyed with herself, Ivy took the opportunity to make him feel bad about himself. “Where else would I sleep? With you?”

His eyes darkened. “By yourself,” he shot back. Suddenly it was Ivy who felt dumb. 

“Oh…by myself is fine,” she decided, glancing down at her feet. Alexander said nothing else, sliding from the room with disgust on his face. She supposed she deserved it. After all, it would be him, Nyx, and her alone for a day and a night and he was trying to be accommodating. 

Ivy sighed loudly, pushing herself from the bed and back into the early morning air. She was greeted by Aine, grinning brightly in a pretty dress of blue. 

“You’re back,” she said with a grin, offering up a chubby, sticky hand. “Let me show you the garden. Papa says good hosts do things like that.”

“Your papa is a smart man,” Ivy agreed, happy to be led through the same halls her father had once roamed. In fact, she caught sight of him in a parlor with the High Lord of spring, grinning ear to ear, a glass of brandy in his hand. He winked when he saw her but did nothing to intervene. Ivy wasn’t even sure she wanted him to, surprised as she was to see how easy going her father was. 

That was the courtier in him, she supposed. Lucien could stare down the person he hated most with a smile. Ivy was still struggling with that. 

“Do you love it?” Aine asked, weaving through glass doors towards the beginnings of a sprawling, lush garden. Ivy paused, momentarily stunned.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally said, ignoring how the little girl was jumping up and down.

“Will you chase after me again?” Aine asked, revealing her true motivation for bringing Ivy out to the garden. “Please? Please please please plea—”

“Are you going to be a bear again?” Ivy demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes.”

Ivy pretended to think about it, a finger pressed to her chin. Aine clasped her hands, holding them to her cheek.

“Okay. You better ru—”

 Aine had already shifted and was snorting through the garden, trampling a row of lovely irises as she went. Ivy smiled, hiking up the side of her dress to give chase. 

She supposed Spring wasn’t all bad.

*

Alexander was tasked with bringing Ivy in for dinner. She’d been out in the garden with Aine all day, far better than spending it indoors with Nyx. Alexander had caught Nyx in his fathers study, snooping through carefully organized documents and maps.

“What are you doing?” he’d demanded. Nyx had looked up, eyes flashing with guilt before settling into loathing.

“Looking for my grandmothers wings,” he finally said. 

“You’re grand–what?” Alexander demanded. 

“Your grandfather killed my grandmother and aunt,” Nyx began while Alexander crossed his arms over his chest. He’d never heard this story. “And pinned their wings up somewhere in the house.”

“He’s dead,” Alexander reminded Nyx. Nyx sneered.

“You don’t keep trophies?”

It had taken every ounce of Alexander’s willpower to keep him from hitting Nyx in the face. “Who would? There’s no honor in killing females.”

“And yet, your family did.”

“Did your grandfather not?” Alexander shot back. He knew who had killed his grandmother. They stared the other down for a moment, neither wanting to admit that perhaps both their families had done heinous, unforgivable things. Alexander’s eyes drifted to the map behind his fathers desk, trying to picture wings hanging there like some kind of disgusting trophy of war. He shook his head.

“Look wherever you like. Nothing like that exists anymore.”

He’d been grateful when his mother asked him to track down Ivy and Aine in the garden, brooding over that new information. He’d almost asked her before stopping himself–if he didn’t know, perhaps she didn’t either. Why dredge up that horrible piece of family history? 

Lucien Vanserra was standing in the drive, face bright with amusement. The sound of soft bear snufflings and loud laughter told him Ivy and Aine were playing Aine’s favorite game—the one in which she was a bear and everyone chased after her. Alexander didn’t have to do much to get Ivy. She emerged, her dress tied between her legs in a big knot, revealing slim, tawny legs that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Her hair stuck against her pretty face, sweaty and still somehow lovely. She practically glowed, a princess of all the light that touched her.

Beside him, Lucien Vanserra cleared his throat loudly, eyes sliding towards Alexander. Too late, he realized his scent must have shifted and the elder male had caught it on the wind. Embarrassment crawled over Alex's skin, forcing him to look anywhere but at the red head grinning as she approached her dad. As if Alex were the first male to find Ivy appealing.

Ivy walked to her dad, who put his arm around her shoulder just in time for Alex to say, “Dinner is ready.”

He caught Aine with one arm before she could sneak off. She writhed, teeth sinking into his bare arm.

“You’re feral,” he complained, turning his back to the Vanserra’s to drag her inside.

“You’re a brute,” she retorted, blood staining her teeth. 

“Don’t you dare shift,” he hissed, tasting the magic in the air. His own claws punched through his knuckles in warning, just in time for Nyx to see. He smirked, as though every thought he’d ever had about Alexander was confirmed. Alex dropped his sister to the floor, angry that someone assumed he would hurt her just because she was annoying.

“Maybe the magic won’t choose you!” she screeched, dirt smudging her cheek. “Maybe I’ll be like Ivy and it’ll pick me!”

“I wish it would,” he snapped back just in time for Lucien and Ivy to see. Ivy’s eyes followed after Aine’s retreating form. Lucien put a hand on his back, apparently willing to overlook his momentary lapse of judgment in the garden and how he’s been all but ogling his eldest daughter.

“They grow out of it,” Lucien murmured, as if Alex hadn’t meant every word he’d said. He wished the magic would choose differently, that any one of his siblings might inherit Spring’s magic. It was mere guesswork that it might one day be him—he was strongest, had shifted youngest. Aine, though, was strong too and her magic was far more specific. Let her take over.

Alexander certainly wanted nothing to do with ruling.

Dinner was a tedious affair. Nyx and Ivy sat with Lucien between them to act as a clear buffer, His mother made the majority of conversation though occasionally Lucien would offer up a piece of long forgotten history and his father would smile softly, remembering those times. It was strange to see Tamlin that way and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

The only positive was Ivy and Nyx, forced by Lucien to keep their mouths shut. If they talked quietly in their heads between each other, Alex didn’t know. Didn’t care. He helped his mother clear the table before dropping them off to the servants in the kitchen. With nothing else to do, Alexander went outside to prepare for the coming morning. It was one day, one night, he told himself. He could manage that. He could handle Ivy and Nyx all on his own, could prove to his father he was High Lord material.

Tamlin was waiting when Alexander returned closer to midnight, standing just outside his study. “Take them nowhere else,” his father warned. “To the villages on the border and then back. I don’t want Rhysand’s eyes anywhere else on this territory.”

Alexander nodded, though he hesitated for a moment. “Did we used to display Night Court wings in this home?”

His father flinched. “I burned them.”

“Do they know that?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

“They are not innocent of the atrocities committed,

“I never said they were,” Alexander protested, well aware pushing would only make things worse. “But an explanation might go a long way towards fixing things between—”

“There is no fixing,” Tamlin interrupted. “Only control. What more can I do to show I’m not a threat to them? You’d think, from how Rhysand and his son act, I am still chasing after…” he couldn’t say her name. “It’s over. I’ve let it go. If they are unable…that’s not my problem anymore.”

Alex heaved a sigh. “Right.”

“Nowhere else!” Tamlin called after his retreating back. As if Ivy or Nyx would even want to see anything else.

*

After a quick goodbye with her father, Ivy mounted the butter yellow mare Alexander had provided for her. They wouldn’t be alone. Besides her and Nyx, he was bringing a guard of ten. It was a surprising mix of both males and females, apparently the first Spring had ever seen. Tamlin had explained almost apologetically at dinner, saying they respected females as gentle creatures in their court, and recognized some wanted to fight. Both Ivy and Nyx had kept their mouth shut over eggs, well aware their own mothers would have had something to say about gentle creatures.

Alexander had gruffly introduced them to each member in turn. Nyx, ever the politician, had gone around shaking hands as if he needed their approval to one day be High Lord. Ivy suspected he wanted to be sure that if anything went wrong, they’d have his back. She was far more optimistic that soldiers followed orders, offering a polite bow all at once. 

Alexander had tied his shoulder length blonde hair into a ponytail, a baldric of knives over his oak brown tunic. His arms were bare, muscles flexing as he moved. Ivy had to wipe her palms on her own tailored black pants, unsure why the sight of the Spring Court prince armed to the teeth was making her so nervous. 

There were plenty of handsome males back home. Day Court had no shortage of them and yet no one had ever made her feel so out of sorts like this. It was disorienting and beyond that, upsetting. It wasn’t just any male—it was Alexander. They’d never had one good conversation. She could take some of that blame but he’d never tried very hard, either. Sh couldn't remember having ever felt so drawn to him, to wanting to touch him with her traitorous, twitching fingers.

Ivy decided to focus on the sprawling countryside. It was so lush here, so green and bright. The air had that same lilac scent to it, fluttering against the braid of her hair as though it were an old companion. It was odd how much nothing there seemed to be. For several hours they sat in those saddles. Ivy ignored how badly her thighs had begun to ache, drinking in the surroundings. 

The road shifted from dirt to gravel to paved asphalt as the air, too, gave way. No longer did flowers hang on the breeze but a choking ash filled her nostrils. It took clearing a small hill to see why. Just beneath in a bright valley, lay the ruined, smoldering remains of what had likely been town large enough to practically be a city. Miles stretched in every direction, pouring smoke up towards the sunny sky. 

Ivy slid from her saddle, the first to hit the ground. She didn’t know why, but it seemed important to be on the ground as she strode through the once lovely archway. Alexander came next, his feet practically echoing beside her. The world seemed to groan at his presence, as though it recognized him, bowing to the future High Lord. 

“How close are we to the border?” Nyx asked softly, tucking his dark wings tight against his body.

“Hours, still,” Alexander whispered softly, the anguish on his face plain. Ivy couldn’t help but fall into step with him. They weren’t friends, weren’t even friendly. She could set it aside for this.

“How many people lived here?”

“Ten thousand,” he murmured. Nyx choked behind him, finally coming to the ground, reins in hand.

“Where did they all go?”

Alexander didn’t speak. None of them did. Nyx knew as well as her that no one had been spared. If the humans could come this far inland, could so easily decimate an entire city, what else might they be capable of? Not even the children had been left alive. It was stunning, the savage cruelty.

Ivy wasn’t prepared for the horror of the day. Each new, ruined village weighed heavily on her shoulders. Alexander explained not everyone was accounted for—some had been taken, though to what purpose, he could only guess. 

The border itself stood between the last small village and a dense woodland. “It should be impossible for them to cross,” Alexander told them as dusk began to fell. They were setting up tents just outside the village though the smell of smoldering wood and despair hung thickly in the air. Ivy felt exhausted, her mind blank. 

“A village so closed to the bordered might be considered provocation,” Nyx murmured, eyes staring into the darkness of the trees. She wondered what he saw. 

Alexander only shrugged. “And the others?”

Nyx didn’t have an answer to that. It was just like Nyx and Ivy to want to give humans the benefit of the doubt. Both their mothers had once been human. Those sympathies ran deep. Even now, Ivy tried to consider the fears of the humans. Maybe they thought it was better to attack first than be caught in whatever war they imagined was coming.

“They had to have known this was farmland,” Alexander was telling Nyx. “And families, females and their children—”

“How would they know that?” Nyx asked haughtily, turning his starry eyes towards Alexander. Ivy watched Alexander’s claws peek through his knuckles even as he swallowed his anger.

“I assume the screaming females attempting to flee with their young would have been the first indicator this was not a garrison.”

Ivy pressed her fingertips against her lips. “We need to speak with Vassa,” she murmured to Nyx. She was Queen now, was supposed to be overseeing these things.

Alexander scrubbed a hand down his face, the faint hint of stumbling gracing the strong cut of his jaw. She wanted to comfort him and didn’t know why, felt that strange pull again.

Ivy waited through dinner and drinking for his soldiers to retire. Alexander, too, slipped between the flaps of his tent until it was just her sitting in the dark. Nyx had left, his eyes farway. She knew he was communicating with his father in that strange way of his, connected despite the distance. 

She waited until clouds covered the moon, stealing the last little moonlight left. Ivy made her way to Alexander’s tent, pushing aside the flap. He was still dressed, lounging against his bedroll, one arm tucked behind his head. He went still when he saw her.

“Come in,” he offered dryly when she stepped inside. Ivy kept a healthy distance between them.

“How do you know this isn’t revenge?” she asked by way of greeting, vocalizing the thought she’d been keeping tucked tight in the back of her mind. Alexander’s handsome face immediately twisted to a scowl.

“Are you insinuating my people deserved what happened to them?” 

Ivy exhaled through her nose. “Perhaps the humans haven’t forgotten what your father allowed.”

He rose to his feet, so tall he had to duck at the tallest peak of the tent. “Oh? You know what my people haven’t forgotten? Your aunt destroying their home as an act of revenge.”

Ivy felt as if he’d punched her in the chest. She knew so little of that story, admittedly. Her father had always been sparse on the details that led to him fleeing Spring and she knew that bad blood had persisted long after Tamlin remarried. To hear Lucien Vanserra tell it, he’d gone on a harrowing mission to find his mate. 

“Maybe the humans are angry about that fucking wall. It doesn’t give them the right to murder innocents. Not when my father did his best to protect them and has aggressively punished any faerie caught crossing the border.”

Ivy took a step back as he came towards her. It had been a mistake to try and speak with him.

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Didn’t you, though?” he interrupted with a dry laugh. He came closer still, his body practically sucking up all the available space. Too late, she realized just how cramped the tent was, how close they truly were. What was she doing? Why had she come in here at all?

“I’m not my father,” he added after a moment. “But would it be so bad if I was?”

Ivy felt a punch of heat splinter at her back. “Oh,” she gasped, falling forwards. He caught her easily, holding her in warm arms. He smelled nice, of woodsmoke and pine. She took a breath, unable to understand why standing felt so difficult. The magic in her body lashed wildy before stuttering with a violence that made her choke. 

“You’re bleeding,” Alexander murmured, his hand on her back. “Ivy there’s an—”

Another arrow whizzed through the air, slicing through the tent and catching him roughly in the shoulder. Alexander roared furiously, waking his soldiers from their slumber. The two stumbled from the tent to find utter chaos. Choking, sickly sweet fog was racing towards them. She threw her arm up against it, blasting a pulse of white hot light towards the line of trees. Nyx was somewhere in the distance, weaving his own night kissed power blindly.

“Go!” Alexander roared again, realizing what was happening. Faebane in the arrows, mingled with the smoke, was choking the life from them. “Ivy, Nyx, you need…”

She never heard what she needed. She should have winnowed away even as she sank to her knees. Everything slowed, their voices distorted like she was underwater. It was all she could do to lay down and gasp desperately for air. Darkness seeped at the edges of her vision.

She was grateful to know nothing else. 

-

Ivy awoke to shooting, blinding pain. She groaned, twisting to touch her back. Chains rattled, iron digging into her wrists. She heard someone sigh.

“You’re awake.”

She opened an eye, and then another, disturbed to find herself in a cold, dark dungeon. Her arms were pinned up over her head and her back throbbed. She exhaled as Alexander came into focus. While just her arms were tied, he was chained at the neck, the wrists, and the ankles. His blonde hair was wild around his bruised face, his tunic torn at the shoulder. It was obvious he’d put up one hell of a fight. 

“What happened?” She croaked, tugging at her hands.

“We were betrayed,” he replied, his green eyes flashing dangerously. “Your cousin went for help but who knows where he landed when the faebane set in.”

“Who betrayed you?” she asked, resting her head against cool stone. 

“I don’t know,” Alexander replied. “But they’re owed a conversation with my sword.”

His voice was cold, dripping with promise. She shivered. “And if we don’t escape?”

His eyes found hers. “Do you doubt me?”

“I hardly know you,” she admitted. Alexander’s expression didn’t change.

“I’ll have my revenge.”

Ivy didn’t know how long they sat in silence. At some point Alexander fell asleep but she could not, kept awake by her aching back and her fear. Alexander was the warrior, she the politician and though her father had taught her to use a blade she would need Alexander if she had any hope to escape. That seemed unlikely given how Alexander was literally chained at the neck. How did he plan to escape? 

While he slept, Ivy thought. Perhaps she could lull their captors into a false sense of security. She could convince them she was harmless, nothing to be worried about. Alexander certainly seemed terrifying. He was six feet, five inches of pure muscle but Ivy was small, petite, and unassuming. The humans didn’t need to know that, of the two of them, her magic was stronger.

She heard them coming from somewhere above, heard them talking.

“…Surely the female must be awake.”

“Careful, she might bite.”

There was laughter. “The male went feral when we pulled her out of that tent. If he tries anything, put a knife to her throat.”

Alexander peaked open one eye to look at her before closing it again, his chest barely moving. A moment later the heavy iron door opened and two human men came in carrying water and stinking food. 

“Well, look who is awake,” the uglier of the two crooned. “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t respond though she jerked her head to the side when the other, just as ugly and reeking of blood and rotting meat, touched her face. “She glows.”

“Why do you glow?” the first asked, his brown eyes leering. She was dressed in pants and a fitted white shirt, stained with blood and dirt and yet might as well have been naked for how their eyes roamed against her.  

“Please, let us go,” she whispered as she tried summoning her magic. Nothing came. The faebane hadn’t worn off. “We’ll do anything—”

“That one will kill us,” the second reminded her, jerking towards Alexander. He flashed his teeth, his eyes lethal. “But maybe we’ll let you go…if you do something for us?”

A bargain. Humans didn’t understand fae bargains. She could use this to her advantage. “What?”

They both chuckled. “Hows about you touch our cocks, hm?”

Stupid. Alexander didn’t move, didn’t dare react. He knew, just as she did, that bargains with the fae needed to be specific. “And if I do, you’ll let me go? Immediately?”

They laughed again. “Right away,” they agreed.

“It’s a deal,” she replied, catching how Alexander’s eyes closed for a moment. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the implication of the what she'd agreed to, but Ivy didn’t care. She’d rip their genitals from their bodies, which counted as touching, and then she’d be free. Even without her magic she trusted she was strong enough to best a couple of dimwitted humans.

“Get your strength up, then. You have a long day ahead of you,” the second said. To her surprise, he unchained her hands before shoving a cup of water into it. One sniff told her it was laced with more faebane.

“Feed that one,” the first barked, tossing a tray of rotted food at Alexander’s feet. She waited until she couldn’t hear them any longer before skittering across the damn floor for the chain around his neck. She’d never been so close to him before and the scent of him was staggering. Alexander watched, eyes huge.

“That was a clever,” he murmured as she wrenched against the restraint.

“Would you like me to torture the name of your leak from them?” she asked dryly, sitting beside him when she realized the iron holding him wouldn’t budge. He grimaced.

“Only if you feel compelled to do so. When you’re freed…don’t come back.”

“I’m not leaving you—”

“Yes you will.”

She scowled. “You think you can tell me what to do because—”

“Because I’m my father?” he interrupted, irritated. She felt a prick of guilt because yes, that was exactly what she’d been about to say. He knew it, too. 

“How long do you think it takes the faebane to wear off?” she asked instead, holding that cup in her trembling hands. 

“Longer than it’ll take us to starve to death,” he replied grimly, nodding towards the cup. He opened his mouth and she poured water in, ignoring the way her whole body seemed tighten. She sniffed the food, splitting what was edible between them before settling back against the damp, stone floor. Alexander couldn’t move and Ivy was too tired to try. There was no way out but the door, besides. The room was so small, with the tiniest, barred window just overhead.

“Do you think Nyx got back okay?” she asked.

Alexander closed his eyes again. “Let's hope so.”

“I can’t leave without you,” she whispered, the truth of the matter. “We have to work together.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied with a voice that very much betrayed his belief that he would not be leaving at all. 

Ivy could still hear the humans talking just outside the door, describing how feral Alexander had gone when they tried to take her. How he’d fought with all those protruding arrows, even when he could have escaped himself. How he’d crouched over her body, half beast, half man, until he’d been felled himself. Alexander could hear it too, his arched, pointed ears twitching softly in the dim light. She didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare ask what had provoked such a reaction. 

Why hadn’t he tried to escape? 

She didn’t think she wanted to know

*

Alexander woke to Ivy’s head on his chest. She was asleep, one hand curled against his chest, the other resting on his thigh. Something tugged in his chest, a feeling he was becoming too familiar with. He couldn’t bury it like he’d done back at the estate even as he ignored what he knew was barreling towards him. Seeing Ivy collapse in his arms, watching how she’d fallen to the ground had made him insane. He’d been unable to think of anything but protecting her, even at the expense of his own safety. It had been irrational, utterly stupid. He might have winnowed them both out if he’d kept his head on straight. 

He held himself still so he wouldn’t wake her, even though his spine ached from sitting so rigidly on the unyielding ground. Her hair spilled over his legs. It would have been an erotic sight if they’d been anywhere else. Even there, barely able to move, he felt taut and too fascinated. He shifted slightly, trying to take some of the pressure off his back. 

“You’re awake,” she murmured, her voice thick. 

“Go back to sleep,” he replied, aware it was practically impossible to sleep on the hard, stone floor. The only light they had was coming from her skin, marking her the undisputed Heir of Day Court. Dim, dull night poured through the window. They were in the human lands somewhere. That hardly bade well. 

Overhead, the humans were restless. Word had spread of Ivy’s willingness to touch them. They were all talk for the moment, boasting of all the ways they’d enjoy her. When Ivy slept, it hardly mattered what they said. Alexander had buried his hatred deep, deep down. Now, though, she stirred, pushing upwards to listen. Neither moved when their footsteps began to move towards the stairs. They were drunk if the jangling, fumbling keys in the door were any indication. Ivy looked to Alexander, who had nothing to offer her. 

“On your feet, whore,” they taunted. Ivy stood slowly, eyes shifting from their faces towards the open door. She could have run—even without magic she would have been faster than their eyes could track. She didn’t. She wasn’t leaving without him. Alexander almost hated her for it. 

There were two of them, older males by the looks of it, with graying brown hair and eyes that wrinkled at the corners. They leered at Ivy, likely the most beautiful female they’d ever seen in their lives. Alexander growled when they put their hands on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.

“He doesn’t like that,” one taunted, pulling a knife from his ill-fitting brown pants. “I hear your lot claims their women.”

Ivy’s eyes burned with hatred when the first grabbed her wrists and pushed them back into the iron manacles. 

“He’s gonna watch me claim her,” the first laughed, drawing his own sword. “You know what else they say about your kind?”

He was too close to Ivy. She reared her head back and slammed it into his own. Blood poured from the human males face. He hit her roughly, over and over until Alexander was snarling, pulling against his chains as hard as he could. The iron groaned loudly but didn’t budge.

“That’s iron,” the second said, holding his dagger close to Alexander’s cheek. “You ain’t getting from it.”

Ivy gasped, spitting blood to the floor. Her russet eyes were glassy and bright, the glow of her skin dulled. Both men rounded on her, clearly thinking her weaker. “They say your kind heals real fast,” they told her. Ivy shook her head back and forth, hands clenched to fists in her manacles. “Is that true.”

“Get fucked,” she replied furiously. Alexander could do little more but watch that blade slice brutally sharp over her forehead, taunting as it just narrowly avoided her eye to dig against her cheek, kissing over her jaw before trailing down her neck. He struggled until the iron cut brutally against his wrists, unyielding despite his strength. She gasped softly when the sharp knife trailed down her neck, avoiding the pumping artery to slide fully into her shoulder. She cried in pain, throwing her head back, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Guess they feel some pain,” the second chuckled when the knife cut from her skin, dripping red with blood. Alexander was losing himself, could feel how desperately his body wanted to shift into a beast and rip them apart. 

Ivy’s screams filled the air as they tortured her, finding sick satisfaction as they broke her leg with a vicious stomp, as they slid her shirt up over her skin to poke their knife between her ribs and beneath her breasts. Alexander snapped when he watched one of them reach for the ties of her pants, ripping one his chains clean off the wall. 

It was his chest snapping, he realized, the other hand coming loose. Both men were looking at him with fear. “It’s iron,” one said to the other, his knife clattering loudly to the ground. Alexander pulled the restraint from his neck off with ease, rising to his full height so they could soak in their fear one final time. The scent of their arousal immediately shifted to piss and fear. He didn’t need to free his feet to catch the first, the one who’d begun touching her.

Mate, instinct screamed. Touched his mate. 

Alexander ripped his head off his body without a second though, tossing the body limply to the ground. The other tried to duck past him, losing his head the same way. Blood sprayed through the room, coating them both. Ivy was panting—staring.

“Oh no,” she whispered, staring up at him. She felt it too, felt that cord that tied them together. He said nothing, too keyed up to do anything but free them both. He’d worry about the rest when they made it out. Stealing the keys from one of the headless bodies, he undid the shackles at his ankles before staggering towards her. She might have already begun to heal if their magic was restored. Her own blood dripped from her still open wounds, her leg bent at an unnatural angle. Alexander undid the irons holding her, catching her before she fell. For as aching as he was, he knew he had nothing on her. 

“Can you walk?” he asked, ignoring the obvious question between them. Touching her was a new kind of torture, equisite and terrible by equal measure. All he wanted was to touch her, to smell her, to taste her—

“No,” she grimaced, leaning heavily against him. He crouched, gesturing for her to hold his neck so he could carry her against his back. Ivy didn’t complain, didn’t protest. He could feel the hammer of her heart against his skin, thrumming painfully loud in the silence. He hooked her legs around him, ignoring the hiss of pain against his neck. 

“You can’t fight like this,” she reminded him, her mouth inches from his ear. He was going insane. She was right about that, though for the wrong reasons. If she kept talking to him like that she was going to give him an erection. Alexander was certain he couldn’t do anything when he was fully hard and aching for her. 

“I’ve fought under worse conditions,” he lied, bending for one of the blood stained knives. He pushed open the door, the ring of keys in his pocket, and began walking the pair up the winding, narrowed stairs. He felt her nose run along the skin behind his ear, causing his knees to nearly buckle.

“Stop it,” he demanded roughly, adjusting the weight of her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, maybe for the first time in her life.

“Don’t get soft on me now,” he retorted, listening for more humans. How many could he take like this? They were surprisingly fragile, soft and breakable in his hands. If he’d had his magic, it would have been no contest—but then, if Ivy had hers, there would be no need for him to shift at all. He’d heard rumors of her, of the blend of Day and Autumn Court magic thrumming through her veins. It made the other courts nervous. They kept to their own for a reason, not wanting to share their secrets. Eris Vanserra didn’t seem to care, at least. What would they say when they realized hybrid Ivy was mates with the Spring Court.

“You’re grinding your teeth,” she whispered. “Stop it.”

It only made him grind them harder. Clearly being mates hadn’t softened her feelings towards him, which was just as well. Alexander wasn’t faring much better. Wanting to fuck her and wanting to spend the rest of his life with her were two different things. She’d made his life hell for longer than he cared to admit. 

“When I’m well, I’m coming back to kill them all,” she whispered when Alexander wrenched open a door forcefully, spilling the pair into the cold night. 

“That’s the spirit,” he mumbled, surveying his surroundings. Something were innate and his good vision was one of them. He supposed he ought to thank his father for forcing years of tracking on him, of all those nights on his own with nothing but a weapon. Of course, he’d never been responsible for another injured person who was, for practical purposes, defenseless. Still, Alexander stepped into crunching snow. They were atop a mountain and no where close to home. Winnowing would be impossible. Their only option was to run. 

“Hold on,” he ordered. Ivy’s arms tangled tightly around his neck, her body taut against his own. Alexander swallowed the urge to shove her against something and take her in favor of breaking into a sprint. He needed to burn his new, restless energy. Just in time, he thought, as he began making his way down the mountainside as carefully as he dared. An alarm sounded behind him, warning the humans the fae were on the loose. Alexander almost smiled.

He hoped they were scared. 

*

Mates. Ivy turned the word over and over in her head for the duration of the night. Alexander didn’t falter though he did begin to slow as dawn approached. They were stuck atop a mountain she’d never seen before, far above a pine forest she could see lingering below. How close to Spring they were after that, well…only Alexander knew for sure. 

So they ran, faster than any human could catch, putting days between them and their would-be captors. She understood now why he assumed someone must have sold them out. If they stopped now, the humans might catch them in two days assuming they didn’t stop for breaks. By the time Alexander’s steps slowed to a plodding stop they were at the treeline. The ground was still covered in snow, still bitingly cold but better than the high elevation from before.

The fact that Alexander had run it was a testament to his training, if nothing else. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t set her down. He set her down as gently as could atop a cold, jagged rock beside a stream, dropping to a panting crouch to gulp down clean, clear water. He said nothing for a moment, working to catch his breath. 

Ivy scooted along the edge, fingering the bloodied scar over her face. It was hardly her worst injury but aesthetically, it was the most noticeable. Staring at her reflection in the rippling water, she thought she’d never looked more like her father. It was a comforting notion. Ivy couldn’t crouch like Alexander for water, could barely move her body at all. The knife wounds sliced along her body still oozed blood, battling against the shattered bone of her knee. 

He noticed, nostrils flaring. His own exhaustion was apparent in his grassy green eyes. Ivy said nothing as he paced towards her, hands clenched at his sides. “Do…do you want water?” he finally asked. 

“I can do it,” she lied, pushing herself gingerly to her feet. There was no lying between them now. He could feel her pain without having to guess, traveling down the line, golden cord now tethering them together. He hesitated for a moment, watching her balance on one foot before scooping her up like she was nothing. “I don’t want to be carried,” she complained, twisting in his arms. He grunted in response, kneeling beside the bank of the creek and setting her along the rocky shore. 

“Of course not, lady,” he offered sarcastically, scooping water in his broad, tanned hand. She drank, swallowing her dignity along with it. He helped her wipe the blood off her body, keeping his eyes to himself which she appreciated. She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened in that fortress. He’d ripped iron from stone to get to her, had torn two humans apart just for touching her. What else might he do?

He sat beside her for a moment, taking a long breath. “We should keep moving.” “Can you?” she asked. He scowled but Ivy hadn’t intended to be anything but genuine. He’d been running with her on his back for hours. Surely he was exhausted.

“I want…I need to put more distance between us,” he finally said, glancing over his shoulder. He presented his back to her and, gingerly, she climbed back on.

“I’ll try not to jostle too much,” he said after adjusting her weight. She rested her chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. 

They lapsed back into silence. The continued steps rocked his body, almost lulling her to sleep. Alexander seemed to notice, perhaps because her hair had begun spilling down his chest. “Are you still bleeding?” he asked her. “Yeah,” she admitted, her clothes.

“It should have slowed by now,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder. It was a mistake. His mouth was suddenly inches from her own. He jerked back, eyes wide. Her heart pounded, desperate to just know. What would it have been like if he had kissed her? He was clearly wondering the same. 

Thinking about him made it easier to forget the pain in her body, if nothing else. “So…High Lord, huh?” 

His whole body went stiff beneath her as if he’d been electrocuted. “So they say,” he finally agreed. She remembered Aine screaming that she might steal the High Lordship from him and Alexander’s bitter words hoping she would. Careful as she dared, Ivy asked, “Do you want to be High Lord?”

“Worried about becoming Lady of Spring?” he shot back. “I’m sure my mother could give you some pointers.” “I’ll break the bond before I go to Spring,” Ivy shot back angrily. Alexander relaxed then, as if that was what he’d been hoping to hear. She’d said it to get a rise out of him, to make him angry. Knowing he didn’t want this at all filled her with dread. 

“Do whatever you want,” he said simply. 

“Glad we agree,” she hissed, her feelings hurt. 

They made it until noon without saying another word. Alexander was coated in a slick sheen of sweat while Ivy, despite being carried, was panting against his neck. “Please,” she whispered, unable to bear another step. “Please put me down.” She had her face buried in his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers rubbed her legs reassuringly. “Soon.”

“Alex–”

“I swear,” he growled. “A few more minutes.”

It could have been hours for all she knew. She was whimpering by the time he gingerly set her to the ground. She curled on her side, inhaling through her nose and out through her mouth. She had the sense that he’d left. Good. He could go ahead and get help. She’d be alright. Her magic would return to her eventually. 

She heard his boots crunching and his soft breathing. “I thought you left.”

“Why would you think that?” he grunted over the sound of rough scraping.

“You’d be faster without me,” she murmured, sighing when a blast of heat covered her body. She thought it was her magic warming her—Ivy had always run hot—but when she opened an eye, she realized he’d found a cave and had built a fire. 

“I’m not leaving my mate–not leaving you behind,” he said fiercely, settling to the ground gingerly. 

“But you might leave me if I wasn’t?” It was supposed to be a teasing joke but her voice was too pained and soft to sound anything but pathetic.

Alexander sighed, scooting until he was just beside her. He lifted her head so she could rest it in his lap.

“No, Ivy. I wouldn’t leave you, regardless of how much you hate me.” “I don’t hate you,” she admitted. 

“What do you feel?” he pressed, fingers carding through her hair. She exhaled a pained breath.

“Drawn to you.”

“Ah,” he murmured. 

“And I suppose I’m the bane of your existence?” she tried to tease, perring up at him. His expression was unreadable, dark and soft in equal measure.

“You are the loveliest female I’ve ever seen,” he finally said, each word forced from his mouth as though it pained him to say it. “That has always been true.”

He leaned against the rocky cave wall. “Your father is going to kill me.”

She couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t that he was Tamlin’s son as much as he was just any male who felt he had a claim on Lucien’s daughter. While Soren had been given a longer leash to galavant about, Ivy had always been her daddy’s little girl. He didn’t like the males of his own court sniffing around.

“Helion will be worse,” she finally said with a soft smile.

“And your uncle—”” “Eris will think it’s funny,” she interrupted, certain of that. “He loves these kinds of cosmic jokes.”

“I meant your uncle Rhysand,” Alexander finished, his thumb trailing over the gash across her eye. 

“Oh. Well…him and my dad tolerate each other at best…so you don’t have to worry too much. It’s not like you’re mated to Nyx—”

“Cauldron save me,” Alexander mumbled. There was more silence and then, “Does that mean you’ll accept the bond?”

“You said you didn’t want it,” she winced, rolling to her back. Ignoring Alexander’s heavy gaze overhead, she pulled her shirt upwards, horrified by what she saw. Instead of healing, like even a humans wounds might have done, hers were festering. Puckered and greenish around the edges, Ivy knew what she was looking at.

“Fuckers,” Alexander swore, hands hovering over the inflamed wounds. “They poisoned the blade.”

“How far are we?” she asked, pulling down her shirt. Her heart pounded a frantic beat in her throat, washing her blood with panic. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“You have to go ahead,” she gasped, grabbing his hand. “Leave me here, I’ll—”

“Absolutely not,” he snarled, his body practically vibrating with rage. 

“I’m slowing you down,” she protested. Alexander shook his head, blonde waves framing his wild face. 

“I’ll leave you over my dead body,” he swore. “Don’t ask me again.”

His words settled some of her fear. She curled closer to him, eyes heavy. “Will you wake me in an hour?”

His fingers brushed her cheek. “Of course, lady.”

She barely heard him at all before drifting into sleep.

*

Alexander let Ivy sleep longer than hour, checking her forehead for a temperature every couple minutes. Her skin was blazing hot, her face far too pale for someone with her golden complexion. He left her more than once to collect water. He told himself it was the bond demanding he care for there, that instinct made him want to care for his mate. It was flimsy in his own head. She was delirious, talking about being drawn to him and still it gave him far too much hope.

“Hey,” he murmured as darkness began to settle around them again. He wanted to keep moving, to get out of the cold if he could. “Ivy, wake up.”

She roused but just barely. “Are we home?” she asked him sleepily, nuzzling her head further into his lap. He had to move her, wondering if he was a monster for feeling so aroused while she was so badly injured. 

“Not yet. Come in. Can you climb on my back?”

It was easier to run when he didn’t have to carry her in his arms. Ivy nodded, pushing herself upwards on trembling, weak arms. He was concerned about the state of her wounds. The one on her face was bright red—it would scar if he didn’t get her to a healer. The thought of anything marrying her lovely face was sacrilegious. 

She held herself on his neck, head resting against his shoulder. Alexander had put out the fire before he left. Their tracks would be easy to follow in the snow even for clumsy, slow humans. Alexander ran again, sliding down the mountain with practiced ease. She didn’t move or speak like before. Her head bounced off his body, arms slackening only to retighten when she realized she was about to fall. Over and over, Alexander felt her grip him only to nearly slide off his back.

He’d be lucky if she managed another day like this. As he ran, he battled with his insides, trying to find even a kernel of magic he could use to get them back to Spring and to healer. It was all he thought of through the night, racing through a dark, endless sea of pine trees. He hated the cold, hated how it bit against his skin until it was all he could taste.

The dawn brought a shift in the treeline, warming the air noticeably until he was certain he must be close to Spring. Maybe not his Spring, but a human Spring none the less. They were nearing the base of the mountain and Alexander found himself facing down a new worry. Humans were likely to be lurking nearby. What would happen if they came upon their pair of them, starving and injured and newly mated? 

It was well past noon by the time he tracked down another cave for them to take shelter in. He left her long enough to build another fire and stalk after a lean looking deer, bringing it down with bare, bloodied hands. While Ivy slept on the cave floor, he carved it up carefully, roasting and eating until he felt almost settled.

“Ivy,” he tried again for the second time that day. She was harder to rouse, her lips chapped, skin ashen. Even her pretty hair seemed duller than it had before. She managed to open her good eye, peeking up at him with listless eyes.

“Are we home?” she asked him, reaching for his hand.

“Not yet,” he replied, hauling her into his lap. “You need to eat.”

She shook her head no. “No food.”

“Yes, food,” he insisted, pressing a piece of meat against her lips. “Open your mouth.”

It was the fever that made her complaint. She let him push the food against her tongue, unaware of how his fingertips lingered against the soft skin of her mouth. He swallowed hard. 

“It tastes like ash,” she complained, swallowing anyway. Alexander chuckled.

“Well, I’m not known for my cooking.” She pressed her head against his shoulder, inhaling again. One hand curled over the neckline of his shirt, fingers brushing over his skin. “What are you known for?”

“I…” he didn’t know. “My bees.”

That caught her attention. “Bees?” she questioned, nose nuzzling against his neck. He had to shift, to move her face to keep himself from hardening against her. He couldn’t help it—she was hurt, was seeking comfort the only way her inflamed brain knew how—instinct was screaming for him to claim her before another male did. 

“Spring is filled with flowers, as you may have noticed,” he murmured, rubbing his hand over her cool arm. “And flowers bring bees. I…” he’d never told anyone this, felt almost ashamed to admit it. “I keep bees.”

“You should see mama’s garden,” she murmured sweetly. “You’d be drowning in bees.”

“Oh?” 

“I’d keep away from Soren’s garden…he’s always planting poison but mama’s garden rivals your fathers. It’s so big and beautiful…I’ll bet she’d love it if you gave the bees a home.”

“That would mean coming to your court,” he reminded her. She smiled faintly.

“As consort. The first ever…male, anyway.”

His heart pounded roughly as he pushed her hair off her face. “I would, Ivy.” Her eyes were fluttering shut again, brushing sweetly against her cheek. “No male wants to play second to his female. You’re going to be High Lord, remember?” “No,” he replied, his voice insistent. She peeked back up at him, her hope so plain it made his chest ache. “I don’t want it. I never have.”

She sighed softly. “Remind me if we survive.”

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he tried, but Ivy was asleep again, her chest rising and falling slowly. “Ivy.”

She didn’t rouse, not when night fell and he needed her to climb on his back. She was burning hot despite the faint blue of her cheeks of how violently she was shivering. He dared to look beneath her shirt at her wounds, almost sick by what he saw. They were more than just inflamed but festering, slowly killing her in the most terrible way he could imagine. He could do nothing but watching, cradling her against his chest as he willed himself to winnow home. His magic was but a small flame, practically useless to him other than to verify it existed at all. 

She groaned when he stood, carrying her while he walked. Night had fallen yet again, giving him the cover he needed to stalk through the woods. They reminded him of home, had that same feeling of creeping magic. He ran as best he could, unable to keep himself from jostling her still bleeding body. Only once did he stumble on a pair of hunters, human males with bows and sharp hunting knives.

Alexander froze, holding Ivy closer to his body, teeth bared. He was vibrating, the urge to shift into a beast rippling just beneath his skin. 

“Your kind isn’t supposed to be on this side of the wall,” the first, palms raised outward defensively, was obviously nervous.

“We were brought here,” Alexander growled. “We don’t want anymore trouble.”

The second was peering at Ivy, his eyes too curious for Alexanders liking. He yanked her away, causing Ivy to moan softly in pain. 

“Looks like your friend is hurt,” the second said gently. He crouched to the ground slowly, slinging a leather bag off his shoulder. “I’ve got something that could help.”

“It’s your kind who did this. Why would you help?” he snarled. The second tossed a pouch halfway between their bodies before slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

“We’re not all monsters,” the first murmured, his dull eyes sympathetic. “I imagine your lot isn’t, either.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” the second added. “Wall is about two days walk east, if you’re trying to get back.”

Alexander waited until they crunched away, neither looking back. He had to set Ivy against a nearby tree to snatch the pouch. He inhaled it, recognizing some of the spices within. It wouldn’t fix her—nothing but a healer would—but it would slow her building infection long enough for Alexander to get to the wall.

He wasted an hour creating a poultice, using leaves and the tattered edges of his shirt to create a bandage. He pressed it against her wounds, careful to touch no other part of her. She whined more than once, twisting against the sting. 

“You’re hurting me,” she complained, reaching for her face to pull off the concoction. Alexander swatted her hand away.

“We’re two days from the wall,” he told her, hoisting her back into his arms. “According to humans. If we run, we can be there by morning.”

“I can’t run,” she protested. He almost laughed.

“I know you can’t, sweetheart. Just hold on, okay?”

“To your back?” 

He hesitated. He could move much quicker if he didn’t have to carry her. “Can you?”

“I’ll try,” she whispered. Using the sturdy, rough trunk of a tree, Ivy braced herself on one leg, wrapping her arms around his neck while he held her legs. 

“Good?” he asked, squirming against her mouth, touching his neck.

“Good,” she agreed. Relieved, Alexander took off with a burst of renewed energy. He could have done a full day like that, despite his lack of sleep. Knowing they were so close to the wall—close to home—made Alexander almost giddy with relief. Ivy, for her part, held tight just as she’d promised. Alexander vowed to find the humans who’d helped them and repay their kindness someday. 

“Look,” Alexander told her when that shimmering border to stone and metal came into view. Ivy practically sobbed her relief. Alexander maneuvered through it with the magic that had begun to return, undulled behind the dam. Ivy took a breath the moment they were out of the human lands, holding a hand in front of his face. Pale skin glowed again. 

“I can feel it,” she whispered. “It’s almost there.”

Alexander, too, thought they were probably a full day or so before the magic returned to them. They pressed forward, both conscious, both hopeful. He’d been so afraid she might die out there that Alexander could have laughed his relief into the lilac scented air of his home. He knew where he was now, recognized the hilly plains in front of him. Pink and yellow tulips swayed gently in the night air, dancing beside welcoming blades of grass. 

He saw the estate gleaming in the distance just as the sun broke the horizon, illuminating the gleaming ivory orange and pink.

“Father!” he roared, his steps slowing. Ivy’s arms tangled tightly around his neck, held at the wrist by one of his hands. He used his other arm to hold up her bad leg, letting her hold the rest of her body herself. “Father!”

It wasn’t Tamlin but Lucien Vanserra who appeared at the edge of the drive. The male looked haggard, his face nearly as pale as his daughters. He caught sight of them first, darting across the lawn for Ivy.

“What happened?” he demanded, prying Alexander’s hand off her to pull her gently against him. 

“We were ambushed,” Alexander said as his father approached. Tamlin seemed better rested, perhaps less concerned of the horror that might befall his son. “She needs a healer.”

Ivy reached for him limply, her pretty face half covered in a stinking poultice. The wind ruffed against them, bringing more than the smell of their unwashed bodies with it. Lucien turned furiously, snarling his rage at Alexander.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded, as if Alexander had any say in the matter at all. 

“Daddy,” Ivy murmured. “It was an accident.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Lucien retorted, taking one step backwards before winnowing into darkness. Alexander lunged as if pulled by a string, furious another male was carrying away his mate. His father caught him before he could create a scene, letting Lucien and Ivy vanish in a cloud of smoke.

“You need to bathe,” Tamlin murmured. “And sleep before you do anything else.”

Alexander rounded on his father. “I’ll do as you ask. But when I wake, I want you to know I’m abdicating my place for High Lord. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t throw away your life on a female—” his father began, speaking from a place of too personal experience.

“I never wanted it,” Alexander snarled, stalking towards the front of the manor. “And the cauldron must have known it.”

After all. It had paired him with the future High Lady of Day. Only one of them could rule.

It would not be him.

*

“Just pry open her lips.”

“You pry them open, I’m not going to hurt her.”“Fine, I’ll open but you pour.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’m starting to think you like insufferable—”“Over your dead body, Vanserra.”

“How many times do I have to remind you? I’m not a Vanserra, I’m a Spell-Cleaver–”

“Stop it.” Ivy moaned, opening her eyes to see who was squabbling at her bedside. Soren was sitting on the edge, his auburn curls flopping obnoxiously into his fawn brown eyes. On the otherside was a female she’d never seen before—pretty, with her long curtain of jet black hair and her soft, upturned brown eyes. She was glowing the way both Soren and Ivy did, though the light was a brighter white. Ivy knew that glow.

“Dawn?” she asked stupidly, looking up at the olive skinned female peering down at her.

“I’m Mei,” she explained, holding out a vial. “This is for the faebane that might be lingering, and this is for your wounds.”

“Who did you piss off?” Soren asked, eyes twinkling. “You were half-dead when dad brought you in. He’s raging, by the way.”

Ivy took one of the glass vials and swallowed, choking against the strong minty flavor. The other was easier, a bright citrus that was almost sweet. Ignoring the strange female, Ivy pushed the blanket off her bed and yanked up the fresh shirt she wore. Thin, white scars cut across the brown of her skin, forever etched in reminder. Soren grimaced when her fingers reached for her face. “How bad is it?”

“It looks cool,” Mei said quickly, glancing at Soren. “Like you survived something.”

Ivy noticed the gold of her hand, clicking softly the same way their fathers eye did. Her eyes slid to Soren, who pressed his lips into a thin line. “I told you. Dad is in a rage. Mom practically chained him to the wall.”

Ivy took a breath, sitting up against a wall of cream colored pillows. “How long have I been asleep.”

“A week,” Soren offered, scooting closer on the bed. “You know, there are some things even I can’t See…like your death, for example. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I suppose not,” Soren agreed as Mei made a quick excuse to leave. Ivy watched the slender female slip from the room, catching the all-too familiar scent trailing after her. The moment the door shut behind her, Ivy punched Soren in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he protested, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“A mate?” Ivy demanded. Soren grinned.

“Ah, well. It’s going about as well as you might expect. She’s not exactly thrilled with the prospects. Our family reputation precedes us.”

“Have you tried being nice?”

He tapped a finger to his chin. “Nice…nice…no, can’t say I’ve ever thought of that. Speaking of which…a certain Spring Court warrior is making the wildest claims about you…”

“Like you didn’t already know,” she grumbled. “Why don’t you spare me the trouble and tell me how it all ends.”

“You know how it ends,” Soren replied serenely, flicking her in the cheek. 

“And you?” Ivy couldn’t help but question, resting her head on her brother's shoulder. “How does it end for you.”

“If I told you, I’d spoil my own fun,” he replied with a sigh. “Mom’s baking tonight, by the way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me because I look underfed?”

He shrugged. “I’m saying maybe you should wait another day before you go racing out of here to make an impulsive, highly questionable decision.”

Ivy glowered, her insides warming at the thoughts. “It all works out, in the end, doesn’t it?”

Soren bumped her shoulder. “I told you, Ives. Some things even I can’t See. I have faith, though. You should, too.”

“Be nice to your mate,” she told him, poking him hard in the ribs. Soren scowled.

“Has it ever occurred to you that it’s her being mean to me?”

“If she is, I have to assume you deserve it.”

“A fair conclusion,” he murmured. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll let mom and dad know you’re awake.”

Ivy didn’t think she could sleep anymore but as she so often was lately, she was wrong. She woke with a jerk to fingers touching her face. Night had fallen and her father was there, replacing the space her brother had occupied. He was illuminated beneath soft fae lights, his face one of anguish. 

“Your pretty face,” he murmured, his golden eye clicking softly.

“It’s still pretty,” Ivy assured him sleepily, sliding back into a sitting position. She bent her knee, relieved to find it intact and unbothered. 

“Your mother will be right back. She went to check on her bread. She bakes when she’s nervous.”

Elain Archeron was always baking. Ivy didn’t bother telling her dad that her mom baked to give him something to do, and that of the pair, he had always been the one who worried. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“No?” her father arched an eyebrow. “I take my eye off of you for one minute and you get captured by humans and mated to one of Tamlin’s sons…”

Ivy looked down at her hands. “He saved my life.”

“So I’ve heard. Your cousin went through his mind—”

“He had no right,” she hissed, furious Nyx would do such a thing. Her father sighed.

“Alexander demanded it. It was good to know, though…good for us to see. Elain and I met with Vassa this morning to discuss it…she’s sending your Uncle Jurian out to deal with them.”

“And the leak—”

“Handled.” That was all Ivy would ever get to know from her father. She was sure Alexander had in his brutal, unyielding way. Her father shifted, holding out an arm so she could rest against his chest. “You know, you don’t have to make any decisions today. Or even this century,” he added after a moment. 

“Did you say the same thing to Soren?” she demanded.

“Mei is far too good for your brother and she is well aware of it,” her father replied easily, a fond smile over his face. “I don’t have to worry about him…he has that Vanserra blood, whether he wants to admit it or not but you have your mothers soft heart.”

“Seems like it worked out all right for you,” she reminded him pointedly. 

“In retrospect, a little suffering was good for me. Humbling, even,” he added as the door opened. Elain Archeron slipped in, lovely as the first light of dawn, her eyes reproachful.

“That’s not how I remember it,” she murmured playfully. “And you promised you weren’t going to bother her about her mate. 

“So I did,” he agreed sheepishly. Her mother set a tray of food on the edge of the bed, reminding Ivy that her mother showed love this way. Giving some something tangible–a meal, a good gift—was almost better than hearing her say she loved them. Not that her mom had ever been stingy with that, either. 

Her mother kissed her forehead sweetly. “Eat and ignore whatever your father has romanticized about the past. I assure you, he enjoyed none of it.”

“It was good for me!” Lucien protested, letting his mate tug him off the bed. He also pressed a swift kiss against Ivy’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, still,” he told her quickly, fingertips brushing her jaw. “Let Alexander suffer for a while.”

“Lucien!”

“What?! You’re ready for some frenzied male to come snapping in our home? You know how feral they can be! She’s still a baby—”“I am not!” Ivy protested, arms over her chest. Her mother shoved her father from the room playfully, listening to his complaints echo down the hall. There were a million things to consider, things she had no plan for. Ivy thought maybe she didn’t need any of those things.

All she needed were a few bees.

Ivy dressed the next morning just as Soren suggested she ought to. Her dress was perhaps a little risque for Spring, the criss-crossing gold fabric covering her breasts but leaving a triangle of her stomach and all over her back exposed. The skirt of it trailed to the ground, hiding the sandals she always wore. She’d taken great care with her appearance, making her face seem as if it glowed beneath the oppressively bright sun. 

She managed to avoid her parents simply by getting up before dawn and stealing to the kitchen. Just as Soren claimed, there were baked goods along all the surfaces. The staff worked around them without complaint, used to the Day Court princess and her strange ways. Ivy stole a slice of lemon poppyseed bread, wrapping it carefully in a piece of beeswax before leaving the palace behind. She’d be back.

She hoped she wouldn’t be returning alone. Buoyed by that thought and so wildly nervous she could have vomited on the marble steps leading into Rhodes, Ivy winnowed away, hitting the gravel of Spring before her stomach had a chance to catch up. She crunched up towards the estate, heart leaping into her mouth when the High Lord himself walked to the porch. His pine eyes were unreadable, face impassive when he saw her. It was technically forbidden to trespass this way—she should have written head and requested permission. Tamlin would be well within his right to send her home.

His eyes drifted towards the beeswax in her hands, nostrils flaring at the scene. She didn’t have to say a word. Tamlin spoke first. “He’s in the forest.” “Thank you,” she whispered, turning towards the forest at the back of the house. She had to cut through the garden to reach it, catching sight of Aine watching in a pale pink dress on the back terrace. It was Saoirse who drew her in, Finn just beside her. Did they all plan to watch and see what happened? No pressure, then. 

The only person seemingly unaware was Alexander himself. Ivy had hoped he might meet her at the tree line. She inhaled the sweet, floral air, catching the scent of warm pine on the air. She followed it, surprised that she could just follow the bond between them like a rope along the ground. She went in deeper, sandals catching on every stick strewn about the ground. The soft thwack of an axe grew louder until Ivy, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress, found Alexander shirtless in a clearing, splitting an absurd pile of logs. She hesitated, eyes lingering on his taut, rippling muscles as he brought that axe down.

She cleared her throat and Alexander went still when he saw her. “You’re alive,” he said, eyes sliding up and down her body. Ivy was scared suddenly and wondered if her father hadn’t had a point. She’d come all this way for what? To give him a piece of bread and ask him to move in with her? She barely knew him. 

“I uh…thank you,” she finally said, catching how his eyes snagged on the parcel in her hands. He knew why she’d come, then. She could practically taste his relief, more than a little awed at how it flooded her chest. Alexander took a step forward, reaching for the sword he’d tossed beside his shirt on the ground. She didn’t know what to expect when he unsheathed it, only that he probably wasn’t going to stab her.

He knelt at her feet, bowing his head in front of his hilt. “I know you’re worried my male pride will get in the way of your ambition,” he told her, shoulders bunched tightly. “I meant what I said, though you might have been to delirious to hear it. I don’t want any piece of your power…or my own, for that matter. I’ve told father I’m renouncing my claim as High Lord.”

“You shouldn’t do that for me,” Ivy murmured, resisting the urge to touch his hair. 

“It’s for me,” he admitted, finally looking up. “I never wanted it…I was only too much of a coward to admit it. It was a choice I made for myself…I want you. And I’ll wait, if you’re unsure, but you need to know that even if you wait a century, I’ll never claim the Spring Court throne.”

Too handsome, her mind screamed as she stared into his eyes. Take him, he’s yours. She’d been so sick during the first days of the mating bond snap that everything felt brand new and overwhelming. Instinct coursed through her, demanding she reach for him. 

“And what happens the first time someone has a snide thing to say about your status as consort?” she asked, fingers slightly smushing the bread in her hands.

“I trust you can handle yourself,” he replied with a shrug. “And if you can’t, they’ll taste the steel of my blade.”

“Okay, alright,” she grumbled, holding her slice of bread out to him. Alexander looked at the waxy piece of beeswax, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. It was strange to see him so easily undone. He looked as if nothing scared him. She supposed that was a good quality to have if he was going to join her family. He’d need more than a little nerve.

“This is forever,” he told her breathlessly, fingertips brushing the yellow loaf in his hands.

“Good thing, then,” she agreed. “I’m terribly jealous.”

She knew what he wanted to say but Ivy could not make herself say it first. Alexander stood, letting his sword fall to the side. “And you love me.”

“You ripped four iron rings from a wall to save me,” she murmured, pressing a hand to his chest. “It would be hard not to love you.”

The corner of his lips twitched. “And I’d do it again.”

“Eat the bread, Alexander.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved the entire thing in his mouth like a wild bear, his eyes flashing as if to say no take backs.

She took a breath at the feeling in her chest. That thread became gold, solidly tied to her ribs. There would be no breaking it now. She didn’t move when he came closer, his fingers threading through her hair. “I love you too, Ivy.” “This doesn’t mean I’m going to be nicer, you know,” she murmured, heart stuttering in her chest.

“I’d be disappointed if you were.”

*

Of all the things Alexander had done that Lucien Vanserra might kill him for, fucking his daughter on the woodland floor was likely at the very top. Over the past week, he’d imagined every single possibility in which she accepted the bond and he sank into the frenzy. Most of them involved bring her back to his suite while occasionally going to hers. All of them had a bed and someplace soft, someplace quiet. Fucking outdoors was for Calanmai and the common people. It certainly wasn’t for a princess.

It couldn’t be helped. He’d taken all of one step, meaning to grab his shirt when Ivy said, “I’ve never had sex before.”

He froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. She might as well have begun running the way that predators instinct raged through him. Every inch of him was suddenly on high alert, as if a parade of males were lurking in the forest, thinking of stealing her from him. He knew it wasn’t logical.

Alexander couldn’t help himself. He suddenly understood what everyone meant when they talked about frenzied, irrational males. He turned to look at her, forgetting his shirt and his sword. “What?”

She took a half step backwards, nearly touching a tree truck at the edge of the clearing. “I just thought you should know…”

“Why not?”

Ivy shrugged, stepping back again, her russet eyes wide as he approached. She was so small, her head easily tucked beneath his chin. She didn’t need to be protected and still he wanted to. The fact that she’d waited was almost too much. Day Court was famous for their orgies. He had no illusions she hadn’t participated at least once. 

He reached for her face, thumb caressing the thin, white scar streaking down her golden brown face. “You’re too sweet,” he told her.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, lips parted. Kissing her would be enough, he told himself. He’d kiss her, he’d get his shirt, and he’d take her inside. His parents would know to vacate his siblings for the evening. He only needed her once to clear his head. “I just thought…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Good,” he growled, pulling her forward. Every thought flew out the window the moment her lips touched his, arms twined around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach him, her whole body pressed against the length of his own. Alexander’s eyes practically rolled in the back of his head at the heady, soft sunlit taste of her. He felt starved, needed her like he’d never needed anything in his life. His hands gripped her waist tightly, wanting to see that dress on strewn over the ground. He wanted to see her spread out over the ground, bathed in grass, her back pressed into the dirt.

His tongue swept into her mouth, eliciting the softest little moan from her throat. Alexander’s fraying restraint snapped. He couldn’t help himself. He needed more of her, needed to hear her make that noise over and over. She tasted the way magic felt, her body warm and pliant beneath his hands. He didn’t know who dragged who to the ground though he was aware it was him pulling her into his lap so he could grind her against him. 

Her hands rubbed against his chest, creating near burning friction. Her magic was bad, causing sparks of heat and light to jump over the surface of his skin. He groaned, twisting so she was laid over the ground just as he’d imagined moment before. Leaves immediately tangled in her wine red hair, making her look like some goddess of light, coming to earth specifically to bless him. 

“This wasn’t what I imagined,” he told her desperately, getting the fabric of her dress off around her head. He was careful not to tear, aware he’d have to walk her back to his court or hers. He’d be damned if he let any other male look at her naked body. 

“What did you imagine?” she asked breathlessly, her naked breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her head lolled to the side, breath hitching when he grasped them, fingers massing the peaked, dusky nipples. 

“A bed,” he replied, kissing the length of her neck. “Time to have you in all the ways I want you.”

“Tell me,” she breathed moments before their mouths collided with another messy kiss. Her legs hooked around his waist, dress pushed down to her hips. He was achingly hard and desperate for relief. There were things he needed to do before he could bury himself within her, before he could mark her thoroughly with his scent. He caught one of her legs, sliding his hand up her thighs towards the heat pooling between her legs. Her arousal perfumed the air, driving him half wild. 

He couldn’t tell her anything while he kissed her, even as he slid his fingers towards that heat. She writhed, her body moving on instinct. Her knees fell apart, giving him unparalleled access. 

Ivy might not have sexual experience but she knew exactly how to drive him over the edge. He slid a finger inside her body, his mouth trailing down her body so he could kiss each of those scars, making them his.

She gasped, squeezing tight around him. His eyes practically rolled inside his head at the silky soft feel of her. He was so utterly fucked and he knew it. If he lasted longer than a minute when he got his cock inside her, it would be cause for a parade. He worked in another finger just to see if he could, pressing his forehead between her breasts to gather himself. 

“Is this what you imagined?” she asked him sweetly, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He pumped his fingers in and out, pushing them apart if only to get her used to the stretch. She arched her back for him, his own little private show in that grassy clearing. He withdrew his hands, desperate for a taste. Ivy watched with dark eyes, shaking her head back and forth when he put them in his mouth.

“You’re filthy,” she murmured.

“You have no idea,” he agreed, pulling her back to his lap so she could straddle his chest. “Touch me.”

He slid further down until her cunt was positioned just over his face. She squirmed against him, lifting a leg in an attempt to escape but Alexander held firm.

“Touch my cock, Ivy,” he demanded before licking up the center of her. She gasped again before leaning forward, her fingers clumsily untying the laces of his pants. He was distracted, lapping at her slowly, drinking in the musky taste of her.

Cool air danced over the overheated flesh of his cock. Her sweet, sharp intake of breath pleased him. 

“Stop smiling,” she snapped. “I have nothing to compare it to.”

“And you never will,” he assured her, kissing her thigh. She gripped the base of him, fingers unable to touch and Alexander redoubled his efforts. He wanted her to come on his tongue before he had her, wanted to feel how she might break apart against his lips and his penis. Her hand was unsure for the first few strokes, pumping and gauging with almost academic interest. Alexander curled his tongue inside her body, dragging a loud moan out of her, while prompting her to press her own lips to the beaded moisture at the tip of his cock. 

It was his turn to shudder a groan. “Did you imagine this?” she asked him, gliding the flat of her tongue up his shaft.

“Yes,” he admitted with a ragged breath. 

“I can’t take all this,” she murmured, as if he cared at all.

“You have centuries to practice,” he replied, too pleased when her teeth lightly nipped at his skin. She could take hardly more than the head without gagging, saliva flooding her mouth. Alexander groaned loudly, disturbing a flock of birds roosting overhead. He’d forgotten what he was doing for a moment, head thrown back, eyes closed.

“That’s perfect,” he praised. “You’re perfect.” She didn’t stop though she hummed a whine, the reverberation settling in his balls. She’d make him come with those little noises, with her wet, warm mouth sucking him. He redoubled his efforts by way of distraction, desperate to be fully seated in her, to know nothing but the feel of her body squirming under him, meeting him thrust for desperate thrust. He knew he had her when her mouth stopped working him, her hand falling from his shaft to his stomach to hold herself in place. Her hips ground against his face desperately, voice rising with each new stroke of his tongue. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking softly just in time for her to come apart, screaming loud enough for everyone at home to hear. The forest went silent for a moment, listening to the pair of them with interest. In Spring, two fae fucking in the woods was hardly cause for concern. It was practically his birthright.

He flipped her over rather than impale her, pushing her knees wide apart while she still came down. He pulled the swollen lips of her pussy open, watching her ride out that orgasm desperately. Alexander took himself in his hand, rubbing his head over the slickness, reveling in the undulations of her aftershock. He gave her no time to adjust at all, sliding the full length of his long, thick cock wholly into her body.

She arched hard off the ground, fingers scrambling for his shoulder. He kissed her, holding himself still despite every nerve begging him to move. Her heartbeat banged against her ribs, the feel of it a flutter against his own bare chest. He kissed her, tongue delving into her mouth so she could taste herself, until she lifted her hips. She was an offering and he was far too weak to resist. That first slide was heaven and hell all mixed together. Nothing had ever felt half as good in his life. He might have died for all he knew.

She exhaled softly, her nails dragging down his back. “This is what I want,” he told her, grunting the words between thrusts. “This is what I imagined.”

“Just like this?” she asked as he pulled himself back. He wanted to watch, fascinated by how accommodating her body was. She squeezed, sucking him deeper, taking everything he had to give. 

“Just like this,” he praised. “You take my cock so well.”

It was the only place she’d ever let him talk to her like this. He’d take it, take all of her and still beg for more. As release began to rise through him, tightening in his sac, Alexander knew there would never be a moment where he’d had enough. His thumb rubbed circles over her clit, dragging her back up with him until she was writhing, her rhythm non-existent as she brought herself to climax. He went with her, the roar of release almost embarrassing if he cared who overheard him. Let the whole fucking world know he’d pleasured is mate and he’d pleasured her well. 

He lowered himself back to the ground, stroking her hair and kissing her. He alternated between the two until the bright flush of her cheeks slipped away and her eyes lost their lusty haze. Only then did he pull himself from her body, revealing in the rush of fluid that escaped her. She was marked now and everyone would know it, would scent it. It was more than the bond between them but the completion of this act—followed by more sex, preferablly until the end of time. 

“I think there’s a rock in my back,” she said, pushing him back so she could sit up. The mere act piqued his interest all over again. She watched him warily, slowly reaching for her dress. He growled.

“One more time,” she whispered, her swollen lips parting ever so slightly. “But then we go home.”

He didn’t agree to that.

They’d be out here all night. 

*

Ivy managed to convince Alexander they ought to go inside for something to drink after twelve hours of nothing but fucking. Her back was dirty and scraped raw, her body somehow both aching and desperate for more of him. The frenzy had her by the throat in a way Ivy had not been prepared for. She’d thought it a mere excuse for a new couple to lock themselves up for a few days and avoid well-wishers. 

By the time they reached Day Court, she felt snappish and moody, frustrated by even strangers who looked over at the Spring Court prince. Her father was waiting, arms crossed over his chest with very obvious disappointment. Had he really expected her to wait a century? She’d been lucky she waited a full week.

Beside him, her mother’s excitement was undiminished. Nothing could disappoint Elain Archeron. At least, not where her family was concerned. She reached for Alexander, pulling him into a hug before immediately stepping back, nose wrinkled.

“Let's try again in a month,” she joked affectionately, her cheeks flushed darkly. Even after nearly three decades as Fae, she had all her human sensibilities. 

“Your room has been moved,” her father told her. “For larger accommodations.”

Far away from his own room was what she knew he hadn’t added. Tamlin, too, had discreetly taken the rest of his family when he saw the two of them approaching, packing up for their water estate and, more practically, avoiding overhearing what they’d surely known was happening in the woods.

Ivy raised her eyebrows, forcing her father to look at Alexander. “Welcome to Day Court,” he grumbled, clearly displeased with this turn of events. Alexander was absurdly kind, bowing with a grace her father absolutely did not reserve.

“I’ll endeavor to make you happy about our marriage,” Alexander informed their father, winking at Ivy’s grinning mother. He slipped an arm around her waist, letting her lead him into the palace with big, wonder-filled eyes. Day Court’s palace was twice as big as Spring Courts and the last time he’d been inside, he’d hardly had any time to appreciate it. 

“Where is Soren?” she asked, well aware her parents were skulking just behind her. There was a pause long and loud enough to make her turn. 

“Your brother is exactly where he wants to be,” her father finally said. That was true enough, she supposed. Soren was obnoxious with Sight in a way their mother never had been. He just knew, and if he didn’t like what he saw, he simply did not go.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, arms over her chest. Her mother stepped forward.

“Vassa asked him to see if he might uncover the gas the humans used on the pair of you,” she said earnestly.

“And we haven’t heard from him since he left.” Ivy frowned. “What are you worried about? Soren isn’t the letter writing type.”

“He took Mei with him and she’s the one no one has heard from. Thesan is concerned.”

“We’ll find them—” Alex began but Elain held up her hand.

“Soren is exactly where he wants to be,” she repeated. “He’ll return in his own time.”

“With Mei?” Ivy demanded, echoing Alexander’s sentiments. “How important is she to Dawn?”

“He won’t return without her,” Lucien said tightly, a reminder that a male wouldn’t abandon his mate. Soren would come back, limping, bruised and utterly unrepentant in a few days with his female in tow or they’d find his body scattered across Prythian. Ivy didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

“You’re in no condition to go after him,” her father added. “He’s likely to kill every male in sight which is hardly the promise I made to Vassa.”

Alexander merely shrugged. What did he care about diplomacy anymore? That was her problem. 

“Two days,” Ivy conceded. “Two days and then Aunt Vassa be damned.”

Her parents couldn’t argue, in part because Ivy didn’t give them a chance. She strolled away, sliding her hand in Alexanders as she went.

“Are you really giving him two days?” Alexander asked, guessing her thoughts before she ever had a chance to vocalize it. Ivy looked over her shoulder as she tugged him up a sweeping staircase.

“No. I’ll give him twelve hours while we get ready.”

He grinned. “And if I do kill some unfortunate male that gets a little too close?”

“Do your best not to,” she instructed. “But we did promise those humans a little retribution. Lets give it to them.”

*

Soren:

Soren stared up at the grated top of the pit he was trapped in. He’d seen the fall of course, had known he’d end up down here. He’d even brought rope in his bag to pull himself back out. Sight was a tricky thing—it didn’t show everything as it was. Little pieces, pictures of a larger puzzle, was all he ever got. He gambled on the rest. He’d never once been wrong until today.

Mei sat opposite him in the dirt, her pretty face streaked with mud. He was here because she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d have come with or without him. Better to be with him. After all, he had the sword hidden beneath his tunic, strapped at his back. He’d been trained by his uncles from the time he was a boy, knew his way around a sword. He also had the same Day Court magic Ivy boasted of, though hers was stronger, more heavily concentrated in light than the fire coursing through his veins. 

Mei accused him of being a Vanserra. Maybe she was right. At least neither of them were injured beyond a few bruises and still had their magic. He didn’t know if he could carry Mei down a mountain. He certainly didn’t want to find out.

Her eyes found him, narrowing to slits. “Why does it seem like you’re enjoying this?” she demanded. 

Because I am. “Is it so wrong to enjoy your company?” he replied smoothly. 

“At the bottom of a ditch? Yes,” she hissed. Soren shrugged casually. Humans would come checking on their Faerie traps. He needed to end his little game. Standing, Soren stretched long legs before pulling his long, auburn hair off his face with a leather strap. Standing on his tiptoes, he could reach one of the wooden bars preventing them from escaping. Humans were so stupid. They’d used iron on Ivy and Alexander—perhaps they’d learned their lesson though it would have been harder to pull apart an iron grate. He didn’t possess the Spring Courts supernatural strength. He reached for his boot, keeping his sword hidden for now. He didn’t need her knowing he’d come a little too prepared. He pulled out a curved, sharp dagger he’d snatched off Finn during the week the courts had come traipsing about Day Court. Spring had the most fascinating weapons.

Mei frowned, rising to her feet to watch him leap up, gripping one of the slats, dagger held between his teeth. Swinging, his feet scraping the earth, Soren hacked a whole big enough to swing his muscular body through. Bright light shone through the edge of the forest overhead, the same place his sister had been stuck in. He could see the mountain he might be dragged up looming above him. 

He’d fail Aunt Vassa by not figuring out what that gas was. He didn’t care much, wasn’t interested in being used like an experiment. He reached down a hand, thrilling when she touched him. Mate, mate, mate, his blood seemed to chant. He stuffed it down even when the soft scent of cherry and vanilla invaded his senses. He yanked her up, unprepared for how her lithe body would flop on top of his. 

“This is more like it,” he teased, enjoying how her cheeks flushed darkly.

“In your dreams,” she mumbled, scrambling to her feet.

“Too true,” he agreed, surveying their surroundings lazily. He knew they were lost, had known when they came in they’d end up this way. “C’mon,” he told her, gesturing for her to follow. “This way.”

Mei did as he said, trotting after him in her tailored black pants held up with suspenders, muddied from their fall, and her form fitting white shirt, tucked into the waistband. Her left her thick curtain of straight black hair hanging down her back, the tips nearly touching her hips. Soren was mesmerized by the swing of it, how the light caught blue against the glossy strands. 

“I can feel your staring,” she complained, those dark, almond eyes reproachful. Soren shrugged. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told her not for the first time. She dipped her head, clearly embarrassed. Her heard her hand click softly, that golden piece of machinery clenching to a fist. He wanted to know what had happened though he didn’t dare ask. He knew it bothered her, that she expected it to bother him.

Meeting his father had been good, he thought. Some little part of her had softened considerably, though it was an icy thaw. He’d need more than his dad’s missing eye and his sisters near death to make her melt. Preferably into his waiting arms. 

Trees thinned overhead, taking him to rocky shoreline. If he’d walked the other way, he’d have ended up in Spring Court in three days time, likely slamming into his sister and her mate. What he wanted was time.

Mei didn’t know that. She paused at the expanse of ocean ahead of them and the little boat pushed against the rocky coast.

“Are you serious?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Ignoring the way it made her breasts swell beneath the open button of her shirt, Soren only grinned.

“I would never joke about seafaring,” he insisted, one hand pressed against his chest. “Where is your sense of adventure.” “We’re supposed to be doing a job,” she complained, following after him when he began walking towards the boat. It was big enough for two people to navigate, assuming both those people knew what they were doing. He did, of course…but judging from Mei’s wary expression, this was all new territory for her. 

“I know,” he told her, turning and holding her by the shoulders. She twisted for a moment, her eyes darkening. He never tired of seeing her own arousal and how she fought against it. What he needed was a little forced proximity. “Do you want to end up like Ivy? Or worse? Do you want to end up like Alexander, carrying my body down the mountain?”

She looked up behind him, heart shaped face glowing in the sun. She was so beautiful it threatened to sink him. He’d never wanted anyone more. 

“No,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen a human.”

“When we get back we’ll reconvene with Aunt Vassa,” he swore. “She owes my dad a favor, I think. Or maybe it’s the other way around…I can’t be sure.” His mother had told the story of Koschei more than once, for all Soren remembered. “You’ll get your antidote. I swear it.”

“Swear on our bond,” she said softly. She so rarely acknowledged the snapped mating bond between them that Soren, for all his jokes, would have done anything she demanded to hear her say it again.

“As you mate, I can deny you nothing.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear it. Now, come on. Do you trust me?”

He held out his hand to help her up, intending to push the ship out to sea himself. She hesitated for only a moment.

“I trust you,” she finally said. He grinned, pulling her close and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. 

“I won’t let you down.”

Soren didn’t need the gift of Sight to make that promise. He’d fail her only over his own dead body. 

Of that, he was sure.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

-

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he’d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

-

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

-

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

-

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

-

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

-

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

[milkb0nny]

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𝗯𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 +:｡.｡

webtoon lookism: DG

warnings: slfhrm, traumatic experience, mentions of r®p3, suicide, mention of death, violence, abuse, alcohol,

contents: DG falls in love with a suicide note, finds the writer and saves them from their suffering, fem!reader

First of all, i want to apologize for any typos. I didn't proofread it yet and I'll change some mistakes tomorrow. I do want to make sure that this story contains sensitive content and I don't want to harm anyone; only read it if you feel mentally comfortable.

It is a little dramatic and too much, I know, but I felt like writing angst. I do struggle with some things in life, as I think everyone does. Please keep in mind there'll be always humans appreciating you.

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A child's play, someone would tell her, as she cried herself into her nightmares every night. Her mother, terribly sick of her brother and her dad, dead from alcohol made her look way worse than she actually was. Or? The hatred she kept in her heart, thinking about her miserable sibling made her sleep in the worst imaginations possible. No one would've thought she was sick, no, in fact, she seemed as cheerful and positive as ever.

Little did they know the child was corrupted and so was her future, nothing less than a black hole deep in the night. No one saw her small figure scream or cry, she always held it strong, at least her friends loved her. Didn't they? She loved them, they were her only help but that vanished. Her brother, a tyrant, raped her best friend, a wonderful human being. Shortly all she ever thought was hope left her alone, now getting the abuse of her brother to feel. Woah, what hatred she keeps.

Little did they know the child was corrupted.

"DG, this will be our shooting place today. We've got some appointments this week so we gotta finish this til afternoon.", his manager pointed out when they got out of the car and approached an abandoned hospital. It was October and they've planned a photoshoot for a Halloween collection. The place was filled with coldness but it had a familiar feeling to it.

DG, dressing himself up in a small shed, looked around. It was a regular building which lost its purpose of saving people in need. The emptiness and silence reminded him of his old school, though, it was a short thought caressing his mind. "When will we start?" - "In half an hour. The crew is still setting their technology up." The pink haired man nodded, making his way to explore the building he was in.

He walked up the stairs, hearing the echo of familiar voices downstairs. Somehow he had to agree, this place felt like a terrible place and not a good story. Floor and floor he walked up, examining the remains of old beds and medical devices. He reached the top floor. A small sign gave him the hint here layed lung patients. Interesting he thought. There was a small part of the floor for children. Sadness overcame him as he was thinking of kids playing, being sick and near to having their last breaths. It was such a sad scene, seeing the colorful but ripped apart walls. Children, humans who are victims of everything even though they all came pure out of their mothers womb. The tall man looked into a room. For a short moment he saw someone laying in the bed but it was only an illusion. God, are spirits playing games with him? They're children after all.

DG walked further into the room, checking up if there were rats who tricked him or if he's going insane. Nothing, but a small note. The violet paper already quilted and the ink was bleached out. How many years did it lay here? Did someone read it? He surely was curious, he still had time. Though, the rose haired man wasn't aware of the darkness awaiting him.

"Hello Stranger, Do you know the feeling of home? I wonder how it's like, coming back home and seeing your dear family members cry, because you're still alive. We appreciate too less and tend to forget that every day could be our last. Kids crying is taken lightly, I mean, innocent kids. What problems should they have other than not playing with the neighbors kids? There are sure many lovely parents in the world. People wish themselves kids, they want babies but some are incapable of loving them. What struggles should a little girl have? What sorrow could she be keeping in her little tiny heart? Oh, don't worry, she overcame her fear and joined her daddy. Oh, I missed daddy so much. Since he's gone my brother took every light my mum and me had. My mom didn't hold through it any longer, haha. Imagine, after my brother harassed my dear friends, she hung herself in front of my dad's altar. She left us pralines, I ate them before my brother had come home. We didn't call the police. I mean, both of us didn't want to grow up in an orphanage. I don't need another family or to be around people who also keep trauma and dark secrets. Not that I think orphanages are a bad thing, no, actually they're great. I'm just not to be loved. Dear stranger, I may be dead now, the little girl died long before me. I'm not sure though, maybe my plan will fail and I'll return to the hellhole I once called my home. Please, don't leave your family in despair. I know life can get so hard you just want to end it, but your loved ones need and appreciate you. Even if they don't do it often, they appreciate you. Feel kissed. (Y/N), 21. February XXXX, my dad's birthday"

After his eyes finished reading the last letters, he was shocked. He was intimate with other's life stories as his fans tell him about how he helped them gaining confidence and hope. It always touched his heart but a suicide note, probably never touched before, broke something in him. Something he couldn't really describe, that feeling was beyond his knowledge. Never did he actually read a suicide note, and not such a sweet one too, but the taste of the words were so biting into his emotions.

Anyways, his crewmates called him and he folds the dry paper in a small square, putting someone's last words in his pocket.

The shoot was great, he was looking stunning like always and his perfect face made his female teammates blush, whenever he looked at them. DG didn't act like he was deep in his thoughts, which was the case. On the ride home he talked to another idol he was good friends with. Charlie was her name and her blonde hair hit waves in the wind. DG wanted to know more about the writer. He didn't think much of it when he simply asked her, if she knows the name of the author. "Oh, Y/N? I only know the last name, actually. You don't?" He raised an eyebrow. Sure, the last name was a little special but he never heard of it. "It was a teen back then. Like, the news were spreading about that family drama. He was so mentally beyond sanity that he slashed a girl's throat. Some years before he raped a school girl. I don't know, that story is pretty fucked up. Why you asking?" His face was pale but luckily she didn't see because he was wearing a mask.

"Just asking, I read the name in the hospital." A short answer, as usual. DG, a famous idol gives off a cold and private vibe. Well, can you blame him? No one should know about his past life.

He dropped the gorgeous girl before her apartment building and drove further. His mind was disturbed and he was needing some sweets. Today, his diet can wait. DG looked up a bakery which was still open in this late hour. It was dark outside and rain smacked against his car. The weather wasn't pleasing at all and everyone would want to go home as soon as possible, but the man dressed in black wanted something heartwarming to eat. He parked in the small parking lot and walked towards the entry, where a short person suddenly barged in him. He stumbled a little and caught her before she fell into the dirty puddle. The violet paper fell out of his pocket and she quickly picked it up to give it into his cold hands. "Y/N! You've forgot your remaining money again!", the worker yelled from inside. The stranger turned around and smiled, but DG saw, that smile was forced. "Keep it, Cho. Get your boyfriend a good wine from it." Her high but soft voice called back, before she apologized to the man in front of her and ran away, probably to her home.

DG once again stood in shock. Was this just a coincidence or was she the actual girl? She seemed bothered but still so cheerful? In fact, she was cheerful to have spend ten minutes in peace in that bakery. Today was a roller-coaster and he insisted on investigating the situation later on, now he needs a hot tea and some good sweets.

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A week later he still didn't approach her again. He had visited the bakery more often as she seemed to know the waitress Cho. DG himself got a good impression of her and wanted to ask for some information about the mysterious note he found when he went there for lunch. "A tomato bagel please. Oh, uhm. Do you mind if I ask about a customer of yours?" He put the money on the counter and watched the woman packing his order. "Sure, young man. Go ahead." DG was about to let his voice fill the air as the doorbell ringed when the door opened. She was there again. It was a bright day and he got a better look of the small statue. He completely forgot his bagel.

"Oh, dear. You're here again. What can I do for you?" The waitress said happily, waiting for the fine girl to approach. DG took his bagel but stood there. Maybe some questions would get answered now. The girl pointed at the strawberry cake. His eyes were examining her clothes. They were quite old fashioned. Maybe she wasn't that wealthy. "Y/N, have you heard about your brother?" - "Huh? You know I can't access to internet and stuff like that."

What? Did DG hear clearly? She was cut off from society and can't reach news and not even the newspapers can get to her? That this was even possible in today's years was a total surprise.

"He was released from prison." Cho said with a worried face. She let her money fall down. Her hands were shivering. "H-Huh?" DG could feel fear. He knew how other's fear feels like. He experienced a lot in his youth, knowing better than anyone that scared sheep smell a certain way. He looked in her eyes. The girl didn't bother to pay anymore and ran out of the tiny, comfortable shop, down the street. It was the same direction she went to last time. "Young man, please get her. She's not alright." The nice woman asked him and his legs moved by himself.

He chased after her sweet scent, finding her running into a run down house. The neighborhood wasn't far away but it was a poor district, that's for sure. He stopped some yards before the small building. DG felt like reliving the memories he read in the note and what he got told, getting the small piece of paper out of his wallet and overflying it. It felt like he was her, that place she was in screamed death and sounded like hatred. After some minutes he approached the white door and rung the bell, which he realized was dead long before. He knocked, but no answer. It was quiet. Too quiet, not even voices filled the unsettling aura.

Suddenly; glass shattered and he heard screams from a male being. He opened the door, it wasn't looked. One look in the house and his heartbeat stopped for a moment. The rooms were clean but everywhere on the wodden floor was blood splattered around. It already dried, it told stories of the family. The walls were full of stains, wine? Food? Other liquids? He wasn't sure. The heavy smell of alcoholic beverages went through his nose when the male voice rings out. "You slut! Who's that filthy man?!" Another glass shattered, aimed against the petite female. Her shirt was ripped and her arms bled. DG didn't flinch an eye and started a fight with the bolt man.

Fortunately and as expected, the man was no match for the experienced idol. He moaned in pain as his hands were in DG's strong and painful grip. He hears her tender voice crying silently, she probably relived her past when she saw the human trash, called her brother, again. DG bothered to contact the police and to approach her as the authorities took her brother with them. She wasn't ready to call her brother out, though, the unknown but kind man did it for her already. Police officers recommended her to stay at DG's place. They assumed she knew him but that wasn't the case.

She heard the cars drive away and silence filled the room. She felt his presence looking down at her. She bit down her lip and gazed at his. "W-who are you? Why are you here? Why did you get involved with my family shit?" Tears drowned her rosy cheeks and her arms dripped red to the floor. Seemingly, it wasn't her first time, therefore she was numb to the pain. Surely she had to endure worse agony. DG showed her the piece of paper she had written when she still was in school, not shortly after her brother slashed her friend's neck. "I found it. I couldn't stop thinking about it and to he honest, it was kind of a scream of help. Glad, you chose to return to your hellhole."

She stepped back, rubbing the tears out of her tiny face and sobbing louder. Someone found her, someone read her thoughts, finally someone listened to her cries. She felt relieved but so shameful and embarrassed at the same time. The moment was overwhelming. He didn't really know what to do but he felt like hugging her. His body closed her into loving warmth, which made her feel home again. She lost her parents and her brother is a wretched pig.

They stood there for some minutes before she dissolved her body from his and apologized. He felt bad, getting an apology for nothing. Her pure heart was the same as in the note, her emotional world hadn't changed and it made DG feel special. Again, he didn't know this feeling but it was filled with hope and crying children who are now at peace.

He took care of her arms, which were covered in scars, a battleground of emotional stress and torment. He insisted on taking care of them. She didn't trust him and was too cautious about sleeping over his place. Still, here in this house rest the spirits of her beloved father and mother. DG asked her if he could overnight at her place and she nodded. Then, a short goodbye was the ending of the meeting. At least she thought that.

"I'm just not to be loved."

Her belief that he won't come back stained her mood until she saw the pink hair appear in front of her in the late evening. He asked for forgiveness for being this late. He forgot an appointment and had to go to it. As an apology gift he brought her pralines. By destiny there were the pralines her mother had left for her. Expensive and rich chocolate pralines.

He placed his clothes in the living room where she prepared two sleeping spots already. There was no TV or any electric devices, so he brought his tablet to introduce her to some of his favorite movies. He knew what he was doing; she should relieve her past and make good memories in places where she experienced so many injuries.

Little did he know the grown up girl saw hope in his kindness and finally her corruption was accepted.

Where would they be now? She recovered, loving her future boyfriend and he found someone who judged him only by his loving personality, which he had only for her.

[flickeringart]

Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

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There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

[funkymbtifiction]

Si + Ne qs

Hey! I hope you're doing well! I have a couple of questions about the Si/Ne axis (I guess the functions on their own), if you don’t mind!

Si:

Are there differences between Si users who are thinkers vs Si users who are feelers, in how that Si may present to others? I feel that I have a pretty good grip on recognizing Si in XSFJs and XNFPs. My mother’s Si (ESFJ) is super obvious to me, but my father’s (ESTJ I think?) is harder for me to pick up on (and part of why I mistyped him for a while) because I don’t see the consistent tying of emotional subjectivity to his memories. I know there would be differences because different functions will "pull" on one another differently, but I guess what kind of "tells" in day-to-day life could clue me in to thinkers and their Si patterns?

There is a difference, yes. Feeler + Si filters memories through their emotions, but not logic + Si. STJs are not known for being excessively sentimental, for example, because they are focused on facts / information rather than subjective emotional attachments; it's SFJs who have more of a reputation for emotional attachments to things/objects/memory-data. If you prove a STJ wrong, he accepts it and changes his/her approach, because to deny the facts would be to deny the reality of the situation. STJs are pragmatic and aware of "the real world" in a way that other types are not -- they aren't blinded by illusions, idealism, or impractical ideas, but focused on what is reasonably tangible and expected from a situation. All SJs, however, do "detail-seeking" in an effort to build as complete of a picture as possible (where did you get this, what happened then, is that exactly what they told you, why didn't you ask more questions?).

My other question is just general Si stuff. Currently I know that my understanding is kind of stereotypical in the sense of thinking that high Si-users are good at remembering addresses, dates, plans, and their subjective understandings of previous experiences, and low Si-users are not as good with those things.

It's also helpful to look at it as a process which seeks repeating patterns through personal experience (the more times I do this, the better I get it and the more I expect it to go the way I want it to); and subjective impressions (for example -- LotR. Tolkien was a strong Si user who took everything he cared about -- his family, friends, war-time experiences, faith, mythology, etc -- and remade it into a different form, in Middle-earth -- he created his own mythology based on "me" / subjective passions and impressions, which is Si). Once you start thinking about Si in terms of "what's this person's subjective mythology?" you focus less on stereotypes and more on how they see the world through their own "slanted lens." SFJs are even more subjective than STJs, but there's still crossover tired to "this worked for ME." I like to use Dave Ramsey as an example -- he's an ESTJ who has helped millions of people out of debt, but his methods are all tied to what worked for him 40 years ago, and as such, he is somewhat out of touch with modern culture. SJs can fall into this trap if they aren't constantly updating their information, especially if it's tied to a subjective experience ("when I was your age..." "we used to..." "I don't see why it should cost that much; it didn't cost that much when I went to school...").

Reading through your Si posts were helpful, but I think I'm still confused a bit because I'm not sure what differentiates memories between Si and Se users in a way that I see personally with my own memories.

Se: objective. We went to the park and it rained.

Si: subjective. My favorite person was at the park, and we had a blast!

My father is an ENFJ and my mother is an ISTJ. She remembers details about her past only if they were monumentally important to her at the time; he remembers "everything" through a detached lens. He teases her that she has a crappy memory, because her most frequent comeback is "I don't remember that" on the rare occasions he goes "Do you remember X?" She didn't care enough to record it or deem it significant, so it passed beyond her notice into the void; but he has recorded "everything."

I read that Si-users are good with details as long as its important/relevant to them, but also I remember reading that Se-users will immediately throw away info that isn't relevant to the situation at hand, so they seem to also show a discriminating component to details. Could the difference be summed up as this: in deciding to keep or discard info for one’s memory, an Si-user will value a past/future relevance of that info relative to the current situation as they see it, but an Se-user will value a present relevance of that info relative to a current situation?

Yes. Si -- I remember everything about X, which is my obsession; Se -- I remember a lot about many things, but not all the details. Si's also use instant comparisons inside themselves -- I have never seen this before, but is there anything I've seen before that is enough LIKE it that I can adapt and figure out what it is? Se -- I have never seen this before, guess I'll push that and see what happens.

Separately, I know of that concept that ENXJs have an Si "blind spot", which if the concept is legit (I’m not well-versed on it) could possibly explain why I have trouble conceptualizing Si as a function in a concrete, evidence-based way. I think I get the essence of Si - subjective collection and storage of past events, which will be referenced to decide what to do in a present situation/moment. I tend to have poor memory of events, specifically details (probably because they don’t seem important to store in memory to me), but I am better at recalling and more easily remember how I feel from something. For instance, I’ll have to think hard or will have trouble remembering exactly what I did with a friend when we went on a trip (especially if I've been to that place prior), but I can easily remember feeling at peace, happy, and excited during the time. It’s more of an impression than details, unless I think hard and picture the places we went themselves. Maybe part of this is because I used an example with positive emotional associations, rather than negative, which are more likely to be remembered in detail, but still I wonder if that could be connected to that “blind” Si concept?

Perhaps. I don't really think about "the blind" functions that much. The most I can say from observing my ENFJ father is that he gets incredibly annoyed with high Si users who just want to reminisce. The past, to him, is dead and there's no point in reliving it.

Ne:

I also have a random q about Ne. I have a professor who will go off on tangents when he’s teaching, but he’ll always say “side note!” or “tangent!” beforehand, and will often keep those random points short. Sometimes he'll even pause and then go "Nope, not going on that tangent." The points are usually, but not always, related to our class material and are based on his own real-life experiences with the topic (audiology). Today he phrased something in a "Yoda-like way", which led him to bash Star Wars and then make a case for how LoTR was a better franchise. It was a short side tangent, but then he revisited LoTR again later in a different way (he talked about the costume design, which was super unrelated to anything he was just talking about). It was kind of fascinating to see how his thoughts moved along that path. Is the acknowledgement of a tangent or side note before going into it an indication of Ne vs Ni?

Sounds like Ne under the control of a dominant judging function, who independently assesses this as being irrelevant and/or less important, but still worth mentioning. You need some degree of self-awareness and a strong judging function (usually Te) to head off being derailed. Could be ESTJ or INP. You won't see Ni ramble as much -- it has a laser focus at all times and especially in an academic environment, has already decided and prepared in advance what it intends to talk about to the class.

This last thought is more of an observation that I’m curious for your take on. I have seen people online describe Ne as this whole “six degrees of separation” concept where every random thought node has a connection to the next one (this reminds me of this, which reminds me of this...), where the first and last nodes make no sense when compared but when you peel back all the intermediary steps, it makes sense as to how they got there. Personally, it seems pretty linear to me so I’d think it’s more Ni?

Linear is Ni, random is Ne. Having Ne is like playing that word game where you name whatever word pops into your head (free association) and others wonder how you got from "elephant" to "tutu" to "canned spam."