#it is sweet jane wanted her for a sister though

[sun-lit-roses]

Anne of the Island Chapter 8: Anne's First Proposal

I do feel bad for Anne, and a bit for Jane, but this chapter is so funny. Poor Anne, ready to go to sleep, having to deal with an offer of marriage flung over her like a bucket of cold water. This bit always gets me:

Anne had been sitting up in bed, the better to wrestle with the problem of her exact opinion of Billy Andrews. Now she fell flatly back on her pillows, the very breath gone out of her.

Anne over here doing calisthenics to cope with this series of questions, while Jane is just lying there at ease 😂

Also, can we talk about how terrible a name 'Anne Andrews' would be? She had to turn him down for that if nothing else.

[sassenach77yle]

Outlander 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"

I COULDN’T GO to sleep. I’d given Fanny her tea, provided her with suitable cloths—not at all to my surprise, she already knew how to use them—and talked gently to her, careful not to raise any more of her personal ghosts. When Fanny had come to us, Jamie and I had agreed that we wouldn’t try to question her about any of the bits of memory she dropped aloud—like the bad men on the ship and what had happened to Spotty the dog—unless she seemed to want to talk about them. I thought she would, sooner or later. Bree and Roger had agreed as well, though I could see how curious Brianna was. Fanny had mentioned Jane now and then, offhandedly, but in a way designed—I thought—to keep a sense of her sister alive. Seeing her distress tonight, though … Jane was much closer to her than I’d thought. And now that I’d seen Jane’s face … I couldn’t forget it. Knowing only what I did know about the girls’ lives in the brothel in Philadelphia was upsetting; I really hadn’t wanted to find out how they’d come there. I still didn’t … but I couldn’t keep the worm of speculation at bay; it had burrowed into my brain and was squirming busily through my thoughts, killing sleep. Bad men on a ship. A dog thrown into the sea. A pet dog? A family—if Fanny and Jane had been with their parents on a ship that encountered pirates … or even a wicked captain, like Stephen Bonnet

… I felt the hairs rise on my forearms at thought of him, but with remembered anger, not fear. Someone like him could easily have taken a look at the two lovely young girls and decided that their parents could be dispensed with. Faith. Our mother, Fanny had said. I’d looked more than once at the miniature in the locket—but it was too small to show anything more than a young woman with dark hair, maybe naturally curly, maybe curled and dressed in the fashion of the times. No. It can’t be. I rolled over for the dozenth time, settling on my stomach and burying my face in the pillow, in hopes of losing myself in the scent of clean linen and goose down. “It can’t be what, Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice spoke in my ear, sleepily resigned. “And if it can’t, can it not wait ’til dawn?” I rolled onto my side in a rustle of bedding, facing him. “I’m sorry,” I said, and touched him apologetically. His hand took mine automatically, warm and firm.

“I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. I was … just thinking about Fanny’s locket.” Faith. “Ach,” he said, and stretched himself a little, groaning. “Ye mean the name. Faith?” “Well … yes. I mean—it can’t possibly … have anything to do with …” “It’s no an uncommon name, Sassenach.”

His thumb rubbed gently over my knuckles. “Of course ye’d … feel it. I did, too.” “Did you?” I said softly. I cleared my throat a little. “I—I don’t really do it anymore, but for a time, just—just every now and then—I’d think of her, of our Faith—out of nowhere. I’d imagine I could feel her near me.” “Imagine what she might look like—grown?” His voice was soft, too. “I did that, sometimes. In prison, mostly; too much time to think, in the nights. Alone.” I made a small sound and hitched closer, laying my head in the curve of his shoulder, and his arm came round me. We lay still, silent, listening to the night and the house around us. Full of our family—but with one small angel hovering in the calm sweet air, peaceful as rising smoke. “The locket,” I said at last. “It can’t possibly have anything whatever to do with—” “No, it can’t,” he said, a cautious note in his voice. “But what are ye thinking, Sassenach? Because ye’re no thinking what ye just said, and I ken that fine.” That was true, and a spasm of guilt at being found out tightened my body. “It can’t be,” I said, and swallowed. “It’s only …” My words died away and his hand rubbed between my shoulder blades.

“Well, ye’d best tell me, Sassenach,” he said. “Nay matter how foolish it is, neither one of us will sleep until ye do.” “Well … you know what Roger told me, about the doctor he met in the Highlands, and the blue light?” “I do. What—” “Roger asked me if I’d ever seen blue light like that—when I was healing people.” The hand on my back stilled. “Have ye?” He sounded guarded, though I didn’t know whether he was afraid of finding out something he didn’t want to know, or just finding out that I was losing my mind. “No,” I said. “Or not—well, no. But … I have seen it. Felt it. Twice. Just a flash, when Malva’s baby died.” Died in my hands, covered with his mother’s blood. “But when Faith was born, when I was so ill. I was dying—really dying, I felt it—and Master Raymond came.” “Ye told me that much,” he said. “Is there more?” “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But this is what I thought happened.” And I told him, about seeing my bones glow blue through the flesh of my arms, the feeling of the light spreading through my body and the infection dying, leaving me limp, but whole and healing. “So … um … I know this is nothing but pure fantasy, the sort of thing you think in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep …” He made a low noise, indicating that I should stop apologizing and get on with it. So I took a deep breath and did, whispering the words into his chest. “Master Raymond was there. What if—if he found … Faith … and was able to … somehow bring her … back?” Dead silence. I swallowed and went on. “People … aren’t always dead, even though it looks like it. Look at old Mrs. Wilson! Every doctor knows—or has heard—about people who’ve been declared dead and wake up later in the morgue.” “Or in a coffin.” He sounded grim, and a shudder went over me. “Aye, I’ve heard stories like that. But—a wee babe and one born too soon—how—” “I don’t know how!” I burst out. “I said it’s complete fantasy, it can’t be true! But—but—” My throat thickened and my voice squeaked. “But ye wish it were?” His hand cupped the back of my head and his voice was quiet again. “Aye. But … if it was, mo chridhe, why would he not have told ye? Ye saw him again, no? After he’d healed ye, I mean.” “Yes.” I shuddered, momentarily feeling the King of France’s Star Chamber close around me, the smell of the King’s perfume, of dragon’s blood and wine in the air—and two men before me, awaiting my sentence of death.

“Yes, I know. But—when the Comte died, Raymond was banished, and they took him away. He couldn’t have told me then, and he might not have been able to come back before we left Paris.” It sounded insane, even to me. But I could—just—see it: Master Raymond, stealing out of L’Hôpital des Anges after leaving me, perhaps ducking aside to avoid notice, hiding in the place where the nuns had, perhaps, laid Faith on a shelf, wrapped in her swaddling clothes. He would have known her, as he’d known me … Everyone has a color about them, he said simply. All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin’s cloak. Like my own. One of his. The thought came out of nowhere, and I stiffened. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” What if—all right, I was insane, but too late for that to make a difference. “What if he—if I, we—what if Master Raymond is—was—somehow related to me?” Jamie said nothing, but I felt his hand move, under my hair. His middle finger folded down and the outer ones stood up straight, making the sign of the horns, against evil. “And what if he’s not?” he said dryly. He rolled me off him and turned toward me so we were face-to-face. The darkness was slowly fading and I could see his face, drawn with tiredness, touched with sorrow and tenderness, but still determined. “Even if everything ye’ve made yourself think was somehow true—and it’s not, Sassenach; ye ken it’s not—but if it were somehow true, it wouldna make any difference. The woman in Frances’s locket is dead now, and so is our Faith.” His words touched the raw place in my heart, and I nodded, tears welling. “I know,” I whispered. “I know, too,” he whispered, and held me while I wept.

24 Alarms by Night~GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE

[gulnarsultan]

i was hoping you could write about King Henry VIII, Thomas Boleyn and Edward Seymour with a very dreamy wife? like, dreamy in so many aspects. like they look like they jumped out of a painting, or they could look identical to some figures they've seen in paintings. and their voice would be very calming too, quiet but clear....like s/o is basically angelic and all that and their presence feels surreal to them

Hello dear. I hope you like it. I am writing this request based on the fact that all three men really love your reader. Because I don't want to hurt such a sweet person in my scenarios.

Henry viii Tudor

Henry remembers the stories told to him when he was a little boy. However, he never guessed that his wife would be an angel. Her voice was like the most calming music in the world. Her touch, her smile and the aura she spread around her. When they were newly married, Henry thought that his wife was just shy. However, as a few years passed, he realized that his wife did not act like this because she was shy.

She was a protective and guiding angel to everyone around her. The young Queen was the most beloved person in the Kingdom because of her personality. Whether it was the nobles, the common people or the people of other countries, they worshiped the Queen. Even the jealous and evil-hearted people were ashamed to gossip badly about the Queen after a while. There were many nicknames for the Queen. Angel sent by God, good-hearted Princess, saint, light in the darkness and other nicknames. Henry would not trade sleeping in his bedroom, in his wife's arms, listening to her sing to him at night after doing his royal duties all day.

Thomas Boelyn

To be honest, Thomas had never imagined such an angelic woman in his life. At first, he thought that when the two of them had a son, his wife would change. However, contrary to what he thought, even though they had 7 children together, his wife's personality and attitude never changed. Thomas actually believed that his wife was not human. She was an angel who had fallen into such darkness and disgust. So that was what Thomas thought.

His wife's sweet smile and the fact that she welcomed him with open arms every time he returned home were a blessing for Thomas. He always prayed sincerely that the intrigues and evils of the palace and real life would not reach his wife. Because even if he did not dare to say it out loud, Thomas wanted his wife to always stay like this. Sometimes, on nights when he could not sleep, he wondered why he deserved an angel like his wife.

Edward Seymour

Edward met and married his wife through his sister Queen Jane. Edward had listened to his sister Jane talk about how otherworldly and angelic the reader was many times. At first, he refused to believe it. After all, living among the courtiers created certain prejudices in a person. After the wedding, he always observed his wife.

In the end, he insisted on proving that there was a devil hiding under his wife's angelic image. But no matter how much he tried or observed, it never happened. He finally accepted that his wife was actually an angel. Listening to his wife sing or read a book was like a reward for Edward. Every touch his sweet angel gave him touched Edward's soul.

[weemsfreak]

Desire ♱

⋆Reader's pov and main story (recommend read first)⋆

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

♱ Jane's pov here

Summary: When the lady of the village returns after many years and ends up in your place of work, you fabricate a dress for her; and then you follow her. ~5k words

Warnings: obsession, stocking, mention of child abuse, family trauma and father issues (as in Jane/Edward Murdstone 'David Copperfield')

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The bakery, the factory, the church, and the bank.

Places which she ventured on a normal day,

Places which you ventured on a normal day.

Things that she did,

Things that you did.

The gallery, the haberdashery, the manor house gardens.

She was busy,

You were busy.

Wherever she went, you followed.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The ball rang out, signifying that someone had entered. You ignored it from the next room, not wanting to drop your task at hand.

"Well, I'll be. It has been a long while Miss Murdstone."

You rolled your eyes and mouthed Gladys' words, mocking the dressmaker as you continued to cut out fabric.

"Indeed, it has."

Your hands stopped working at the sound of a voice, gaze slowly raising to the wall as you listened. You heard shuffling to Gladys' workspace, a coat hit the settee.

"How has Blunderstone treated you? Glad to be back at the factory?"

A hum. "It has been a good many years, although a dreadful end I'm afraid. I am glad to be back."

Your eyes flit around the room; the factory? Miss Murdstone?

Oh. OH. The Miss Murdstone of Murdstone village. The sister of factory owner Mr. Murdstone.

You had never met the Murdstone's, but you had heard of them and their reputation in their own village. They had been gone for some ten years; a marriage, you had heard. And it seemed that now, they were back.

You prayed that Gladys wouldn't call you in for help as you were not very confrontational, and you had heard that the lady could be, well, cruel.  

Slowly you continued to cut out fabric, listening in on their conversation as you did.

The contrast of murmuring and sureness calmed you, the new voice in particular was melody to your ears. It was strong yet weak, cold yet warm, confident yet weary, cruel yet sweet; you longed to know what body housed a voice like that.

Inevitably, Gladys called your name from the next room.

You screwed your eyes closed and took a deep breath before dropping everything and heading through the doorway.

"Yes, how can I help-"

Your eyes flit from Gladys to a tall dark figure. One which caught you off guard, before it consumed you.

Ghost white skin sandwiched between midnight hair and a dress to match, the length of which you've never seen the likes of before.

Her gaze was locked onto the wall, until she noticed you staring.

Expectant eyes shot to you and made your heart flutter nervously, you averted your gaze back to Gladys.

It seemed that the only colour this woman possessed was that of her iris', which made them stand out even more.

"Y/n, this is Miss Murdstone."

You moved closer and gave a small bow, eyes on the floor. "How do you do Miss Murdstone."

"Well, thank you."

You nodded with a small smile.

"Help me with this, will you?" Gladys passed you a measure and gestured to her skirts, to which you lifted and got to work.

Black fabric, not something you worked with often, although it was certainly growing on you. You looked between dark and the light of her petticoat, and you wished for the chance to see long legs hidden underneath. Alas, petticoats were not see through.

Miss Murdstone was not a very social woman, though you were not surprised at her lack of emotion or chatter, as there was not much about her that was mainstream.

You stood and helped Gladys with small things, measuring around her bodice, shoulders, and arm length, the lady stiff as a board. Your hands trembled as you worked, which neither woman failed to notice.

You couldn't help but steal glances at the lines in the woman's skin, dark hair tied up neatly, scars and light freckles placed perfectly, as if they were intentional.

You couldn't help but think that she looked as if she was made of wax.

Cold fingers brushed against the pale skin of her neck and she flinched, a string of apologies flowing from your mouth. You stepped away and let Gladys finish the job, the only thing going through your head was how warm the woman was to the touch.

Being sent on your way with the measurements, you began to cut out black fabric. More length added to the sleeves and skirt, waist cinched just a bit.

You worked in the corner of the room, stealing glances at the dark woman though the doorway now and then. When you had left, the women began to make small conversation again; you closed your eyes and listened to her voice.

You hadn't noticed when the bell had rung and she had left, until Gladys walked in.

"A pretty young thing like you shant be intimidated by Miss Murdstone."

Your eyes shot to Gladys as a light blush overtook your cheeks. You were intimidated alright, but not in the way she thought.

You hummed, "Maybe not intimidated, but overtaken."

"Get to work silly girl" she chuckled, pointing down at the barely touched black fabric in your hands.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You could tell by the way she carried herself through life, by the way that she spoke to people (or didn't acknowledge them at all), that she was cold, iron, wrought, metallic.

Yes, that was it, she was metallic, and she possessed some type of pull. You failed to fight it off with bated breath when dark yet enchanting eyes met yours.

What really pulled you in, however, was her mysterious nature. Her front was menacing, her cruelty was obvious, her exterior freezing anyone who dared cross her path.

She was a delight, far more true than you could ever be.

Being a dressmaker's apprentice, you didn't have every day to venture around Murdstone village. But when you did, you made it worthwhile.

You had been intrigued by her since the day she stepped into the shop, and soon enough, you became attached.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

It was easy to spot her through the crowd of people, being one of the tallest, darkest, and notable around.

You wouldn't say that you stalked her, no, for you ran your errands in the same way as she, and your interests matched hers well.

That became clear when one day you took a stroll through the manor house gardens and found her, admiring the Nettles from afar.

Nettles were not much to the naked eye, and they stung like a bitch when one got close. Alas, their being was important, indispensable, beautiful; like her.

Cold on the outside and warm on the inside.

You sat on a bench next to some Black Calla Lily's, and couldn't help but think about how the flowers reflected the both of you. These particular Lily's caught your eye and drew you in, but get too involved and their toxins could harm you.

Warm on the outside and cold on the inside.

Perhaps you were both deceiving.

Her back faced you tauntingly as you longed to admire her features. You hadn't gotten a satisfying look at her, although you assumed nobody had ever gotten very close.

Holding your breath, she turned to continue down the path, head held high as she gazed straight ahead.

She didn't look your way, she didn't acknowledge you, no, she didn't say a word.

Yet you knew her, you knew she was perceptive, she noticed every detail.

And deep down you knew that she knew you were there.

She always did.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You were suffering throughout your days and nights, physically unable to get the metallic lady out of your head. You hadn't been this obsessed, this buried, this crazy for a woman.

You knew it was wrong, to want her, to want to know her, to want to feel her dark locks run through your fingers.

You knew it was wrong to watch from afar, even worse to get close; but you couldn't help it.

She was enchanting, she was brooding, she was maddening.

One bright morning you arrived to church early, and placed yourself in the very pew where the Murdstone's always sat. You took the hymnal and prayer books and moved them to another pew, leaving only one set of books available.

After some time, Mr. Murdstone passed the pew, giving you a look of disdain before continuing on.

Your gaze dropped to your lap nervously, unsure as to where she was.

Another moment passed, and you noticed a shadow beside you, then felt a soft brush against your leg.

It was so soft you believed it was imagined.

"Apologies."

Looking over in disbelief, you found the metallic woman beside you, her attention set on the priest.

As the service progressed, you couldn't help but wrack your brain around her being. For as much as you knew her, or at least thought that you did, as much as you saw her, you couldn't tell.

After eyeing her at church a couple days a week, you realized she was a devoted congregant. She gave the impression that she was one who would reprimand for breaking the rules, for not adhering to the faith's principles.

But all the same, she seemed as though she'd like to bend them, challenge society's expectations, and oppose normalcy, as it was obvious she didn't follow every mainstream convention.

You had confirmed recently, after some research, that 'Miss' Murdstone was not married; but for which reason, you wondered often.

Long fingers opened the prayer book and held it still as a stone on her lap, eyes scanning the words slowly.

Silently, you leaned closer, setting your gaze on her as she peered down at you. You smiled, watching her lips twitch and eyes bore into your own in question; then the prayer book was angled so you both could recite together.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

One day, you set out determined for your destination: the gallery.

See, there was not much that you knew, but there were a few things. One being that the gallery bustled with activity on a certain day of the week, and another being that Jane Murdstone was a sucker for all things nice.

The Cultural and Historical collections always inspired you, and allowed you to indulge in the fantasy of a better world, a more interesting world, a world in which you were yourself, truly.

And well, as did she.

As expected, Miss Murdstone made her way around a glass case following the male version of herself. You recognized him immediately, the man of the village.

Watching from the other side of the room, you took note of their differences and similarities. Physical was obvious, they were tall, they were dark, and they were chilling.

Your heart couldn't help but feel heavy, as although she was striking, easily catching your eye even next to her brother, she was the lesser.

It was obvious that she was more brazen, more intelligent, and more capable; alas, he was the man, and she was the woman.

You ran your hand over an artifact, pressing your skin hard into the rough texture.

Glass should cover something so fragile, so special, so significant, you thought, for someone could steal it with the snap of a finger.

You could steal it with the snap of a finger. You wouldn't, however, not now. For you had something far more important to tend to.

A dark figure caught your peripheral, your eyes discreetly landing on the woman as your head stayed focused in the direction of the artifact.

You watched as long fingers ran over a piece opposite, feeling the atoms that made up the world, perhaps a world in which you had yet to know.

You took a deep breath, gaze lifting when her pale hand paused in its track.

You were expecting it, her eyes on her pray, on her goal, on you.

Touché. You respected the effort, the care, the menacing stare, but it was of no use.

You stared back, taking in the elements of her skin, the light in her eyes, and the hate in her heart.

It was incredible, really, how energy made up the universe, how matter was formed, how it could be neither created nor destroyed.

She saw you and you saw her, but nobody spoke a word.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Miss Murdstone spoke few words to you the couple times that she entered the shop; for her measurements, her dress, and then again when a colleague had tailored a suit for her brother.

You understood that you knew her better than she knew you, for you were just a dressmaker whose name had most likely slipped her mind.

Alas when you watched her on the streets, back and forth with long strides, elegance never faltering, haughtiness never letting up, she never failed to deepen your infatuation.

You admired the way she gave no thought nor care about others' opinions, the way she could allow- feed into the absolute cruelty, perhaps hate that came out of her mouth.

The way she let it happen, the way she lived for it.

You were high as the heavens the one time she had spat at you. It was short, nothing that she thought twice about, but you were truly and utterly drunk on her.

Others you knew, didn't appreciate being spoken down to that way, looked at with a bitter glance, nor dealt with in that sneering tone.

And well, most of the time you wouldn't either.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The factory, a place of your dreams and nightmares.

In your favour, it wasn't difficult to sneak into at night, the bottles and barrels and wine and corks the only witnesses of your doing.

Their livelihood, their significance, the thing that gave the Murdstone's the justification to be poison; possibility to be ruined within hours.

You ran a finger along a trail of dust as a smirk crept over your face. Mr. Murdstone was too pretentious for his own good, careless perhaps, not too smart it seemed; but you were.

For his sake, and his sake only, it was a damn good thing that his sister had consumed your every thought.

By morning you had tucked yourself deep behind the shelves.

People of every age, those of every kind made their way into the factory, cleaning, filling, corking, labelling, and packaging.

You were caught off guard when you eyed Mr. and Miss Murdstone make their way around the factory, inspecting the work and the workers. They passed by the shelves with a step that felt far too long. You froze at their proximity, for you had no escape.

Letting out a breath, you watched as they halted near a small boy, a boy far too short to reach the corking lever.

"Jump, boy" Mr. Murdstone instructed.

The boy tried, pathetically.

"You should sooner teach the furniture" the lady said to her brother.

You held in a snicker.

"Jane" Mr. Murdstone warned.

You watched as he attempted to jump, Mr. Murdstone frustrated with his lack of effort.

"You will not be switched to another job, boy."

He jumped higher and had yet to reach.

Miss Murdstone turned to her brother with the raise of a brow, "We should switch to a less enjoyable activity."

"JANE."

Mr. Murdstone grabbed the child by his shirt, dragging him to a secluded room and slamming the door with no hesitation.

Miss Murdstone followed with hands clasped in front of her, then you heard grunting and lashing sounds. Your eyes shut and you flinched at the suddenness, whacking your head off a board.

Blue eyes travelled your way, somehow hearing your skull make contact with the wood over the loudness of everything else. The metallic woman looked in your direction, around you, above you, and you could swear it, straight at you. But she couldn't see you through the willful blindness of the bottles and barrels.

Her gaze was averted, however, when a tall boy made his way toward her with intent.

Your eyes widened as you watched him pick up a glass bottle, your brain registering that he most likely wished to protect the child; but harming Miss Murdstone wasn't the way.

With a deepening heart beat you contemplated the fact that you may have to reveal yourself, jump in front of hard glass in shame and remorse before ghostly pale skin turned crimson.

But, as you watched the metallic woman, you noticed her smirk; joy, thrill, and humour behind her eyes.

She faltered for a moment when she noticed the bottle, lips twitching; a moment of hurt. Still, she stood her ground, eyes unblinking.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and she knew.

For they were cruel, they were cold, and they were abusive, perhaps.

But she now had no fear, for she was used to it.

When the boy turned away and you watched her smirk return, chest falling slightly in relief, it made sense.

You realized why she was the way that she was; beaten, bruised, petrifying, and cruel. It wasn't anything new, it wasn't unfamiliar or forced. It was all that she knew.

It was what she knew, it was who she was brought up to be; the little girl, the woman, the one who took care of the men.

The one who listened to their commands but rose to control when they were too coward.

The one who was reprimanded when she spoke her mind but was brought up to be superior all the same.

The girl who said nothing and was harmed for her warmth, now a cold shell of defensive whips and comments; in a woman's body tall enough to make the men resentful.

She was born to love and taught to hate, for she had no choice.

She had no choice.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The lady had returned to the shop days later with Mr. Murdstone's suit, shoving it into your coworkers' arms.

"You measured incorrectly" she grumbled.

His jaw fell open as he looked it over, scratching at his head, "Where is it incorrect, my lady?"

You held in a laugh as she flung the trousers over his arm and pointed to the hem. "They need to be taken out. He's not lacking in stature like yourself."

Nodding, he made his way to the next room. "I need it finished for tonight" you heard her holler.

"Of course, Miss Murdstone."

You were sat on the settee, sewing a piece and trying your hardest to pretend she wasn't there, hoping you wouldn't have to entertain her.

Alas, as it was, you longed to converse with her, you longed to entertain her.

You longed to run your eyes over her frame, yearned to move closer and take in her deathly smell, her serene eyes and ghostly skin.

You longed to run your hands along the warmth of her neck once again and know that she was real.

Heeled steps approached as your mind went blank and heart began to race. She sat down next to you.

"Men, incompetent" was all that she said.

You felt bad for him, of course you did, but you couldn’t help but snicker at her comment.

"Indeed."

You admired very much that she spoke her mind and wished to give her the ability to feel freely, without reprimand and without judgment.

Attempting to focus back on your work, you were distracted when she withdrew her pocket watch. Busy fingers wrapped around the intricate watch and chain before moving to toy with the money bag and beads hanging off her chatelaine.

A sigh, "I have somewhere to be."

You ignored the burning question in your mind, 'where?'

The woman turned to you suddenly, your gaze shot to hers.

Her dark blues narrowed as if she knew what you were doing: following, admiring, chasing, craving her.

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat as you thought of her knowing, knowing of your attachment, knowing of your enamour, knowing of your desire.

You calmed however, when you realized that you didn't see rage in her eyes, but intrigue; for she had an idea.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver the suit when it is finished?"

You tilted your head at her sickly sweet tone, figuring that it was the only way she knew to get people to bend for her, to get you to bend for her.

But you would bend for her coldness, you would bend for her cruelness, you would bend for her warmth, you would bend for her anyway she'd ask, fake or sincere.

You would bend for her.

Yes you knew of many places, the factory that you should not enter, the bakery, the grocer, the bank, the haberdashery, and her leisurely activities, but you didn't know of her home.

You didn't know her that well.

You stuttered in surprise, "Of- of course."

A smile played at her lips, but you knew you weren't special.

When her dark blue eyes bore into your own and you saw the hate, you knew that her thoughts were nothing but careless, nothing but mean, nothing but questioning.

You wondered how someone could be so…brave? Sadistic? So content with being unliked by others, even intentionally resented.

Lonely? You could say. Perhaps you both had something in common.

She grasped others by the throats and shook them until they gave in for a breath, until they feared her, until they bent.

You wouldn't mind that, not from her, not at all.

You saw it run through her mind with a slight widening of eyes, as if she was attempting to convince herself that her maliciousness was justified.

For you, well you were just a young girl, a little lamb. You were the innocence that she once had and lost, the total opposite of her.

But you, you weren't so convinced.

"Lovely. Gladys will provide my address. I expect it by 5pm."

She stood abruptly and exited the shop, leaving you alone.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The suit was done by 4pm, you prayed that it would fit perfectly. Not that you were opposed to being rebuked by Miss Murdstone, but you truly wanted nothing but to please her.

Wearing one of your favorite dresses, you set out to the Murdstone's estate, walking through the surprisingly busy streets with curiosity.

The door was open when you arrived, and you were greeted by a maid who was bustling around. They informed you where to take the suit due to their current occupation.

You found yourself nervously knocking on a door in a dark hallway, sure that this was a ruse.

The door swung open quickly at the hand of Miss Murdstone, making you flinch in surprise.

You took in the sight of her in her new black dress, one which you had the pleasure of aiding in the fabrication of. It clung to her figure perfectly, defining strong shoulders and a cinched waist.

Smoothing out the fabric of your dress, you attempted not to drool as you extended the suit out to her.

"Here you are, Miss Murdstone. I hope it meets your satisfaction."

She took the suit from you gently, giving you an expectant look as she stayed silent.

"We're hosting a ball tonight."

You averted your gaze to the window at the end of the hall, nodding in understanding and jealousy.

"I trust that it will be enjoyable."

You watched as she looked you up and down, you felt that this was the most attention she had ever given you.

"I do hope."

Silence. You had much to say, but no will to say it.

Whether it was your imagination or a mutual understanding, your relationship seemed to be based on physicality, lacking verbal connection.

A maid then came barreling up the stairs, carrying many things in preparation of the night. "Miss Murdstone, let's prepare you for the ball."

You watched as she entered Miss Murdstone's chambers and disappeared from your sight, the lady allowing her access. Your eyes flit from the maid to hers, screaming with want for a job which you did not have, did not desire; until now.

She spoke with a tone of genuine disinterest, yet the invitation in itself told you something.

"It will commence at 8pm. You are welcome to join."

⋆♱✮♱⋆  

You had been welcomed into their home, but it felt unsettling all the same. Her unknowing of your presence, or at least not expecting it, gave you the ability to be discreet.

But here, you felt as if something was expected of you, as if she had invited you just to watch you. Ironic.

Few eyes glanced your way as you took your time admiring the Murdstone's estate. Upper class fascinated you, elaborate décor and offerings made you feel envious, yet insignificant at the same time.

You weaved through the crowd of people, introducing yourself as you picked up a glass. Most likely you looked out of place, you knew, despite the fact that you were dressed appropriately.

You were intrigued, however, as you desired to learn more about their lives; desired to learn more about her life.

Not to your surprise, as the night progressed you caught her moving throughout the ball room.

She was on a mission as always, it seemed, tending to others needs and wants in hopes of a pleasant ball; in her role of pleasing her brother. Your eyes followed her tall form as you sipped your drink in a corner, absolutely content.

For a while.

Enjoyment flowed through you as you watched others dance, resisting the urge to join in. You hesitated as your heart panged, knowing that the only person you desired to dance with was not within possibility.

Eventually you had lost sight of her, only Mr. Murdstone in the centre of the room dancing with a woman, so you left.

You quietly snuck to the main room of the house, debating on departing until you realized that nobody was around.

Sneaking up the stairs, you ran your hand along the balustrade, stopping at the top to utilize the light of some candles. If anyone caught you, you were searching for the loo.

A large family portrait on the wall greeted you, an eerie feeling overwhelming you at the sight of the Murdstone family.

The mother, a force to be reckoned with. The father, a tyrannical aristocrat. And the son, vindictive.

As your eyes raked over the young girl, however, you realized she was just that, a young girl.

A young girl born into upper class, born into cruelty, born into a life that was not chosen but wholly hers.

You supposed nobody really had a choice.

The candles guided your attention to an open door, the floor creaking when you stepped closer.

You longed to enter, but a deep dreadful feeling in your chest told you not to.

Shaking your head, you stepped away; but your curiosity got the best of you, as always.

The dimly lit room was lined with books and filled with décor, artifacts, and art. It was the most interesting room you had ever known.

You ran your fingers along an open book on the table, the intricate writing making you guess it was that of a woman.

'My father has gotten…better.

I cannot help but wonder if it is too late.

He now asks me why I am so angry, why I raise my voice.

He does not understand that

I learned it all from him.'

You sucked in a breath as your hand traced the ink. Being lost in her deepest written thoughts was…intense.

You turned pages upon pages for more, stopping at the most recent.

'I question my ability to experience the tender emotions of humanity.

To harbor affection in the manner of mortals.

The question for this issue is

Do I have a human soul,

And can I prove it?

And, of course,

There is no definitive answer.'

Your lip began to tremble at the tug of her words, of her thoughts, of her feelings.

She was no ghost, she was no wax figure, she was as real as you, maybe even more so.

As a small tear escaped your eye, a hand landed harshly on your shoulder.

"I knew I would find you here."

An amused but mocking voice.

She spun you around and grasped your neck, fingers reaching until they squeezed and pulled you close.

It felt pleasant, it felt warm, it felt real.

"You fancy yourself sly, following me around, do you not?"

Your eyes widened, hands trembling at her touch, clenching them at your sides.

"Do not presume I failed to notice your presence."

She saw you.

"At first, I thought perhaps you wished me dead, the way you stock me."

She chuckled.

"Then I realized that you made no attempt to be stealthy."

You were at first, but then you got sloppy. You swallowed thickly.

"We share the same interests, do we not?"

You nodded your head the best that you could, you truly did.

A smirk grazed her lips as she brought them to your ear, making you shiver at the proximity.

You closed your eyes.

"Do not think I miss the way you look at me."

She knew, she knew of your attachment.

"Do not think I miss the way you tremble when I'm close."

She knew of the way you craved her.

"Do not think I miss your desire."

 It was incredible, really, how energy made up the universe, how matter was eternal, how it could be neither created nor destroyed.

Both of you, electron orbitals overlap, not separate, but existing as one with her hand around your neck, around your lifeline.

She shook you until you gave in for a breath, until you feared her, until you bent.

But you knew her now, unlike you did before.

You knew she wanted to toy with you, and well, you with her.

You wouldn't say that you were cold, cruel, or that you had ever harmed another; for you were just a little lamb.

But, when she looked at you with disdain, you wished to give her a taste of her own medicine.

You wished to slap the sly look off her face, tell her that she wasn't as cruel or deathly as she thought she was, put her down until she lost her sense of fabricated self and cold exterior- until she found her real self again, warmth staring back at you as her clothing and shell were shed.

See, she was smart, witty, and perceptive, but she wore her heart on her sleeve, intentions written plain as day.

An open book, placed for all to see; but only some to analyze, only some to admire.

You, on the other hand, were sly, smart, and deceiving.

Perhaps she saw you as a dumb, innocent, oblivious young woman; but perhaps that's what you wanted her to think.

Gently, you placed your hands onto her waist, pressing yourself further into her grip.

Your lips met her jawline softly, watching as her mouth opened slightly in a gasp, warm breath fanning across your temple.

You bit your lip in pleasure as a smile spread across your face, you breathed low:

"I suffer, I attach, I crave, and I desire. And I always get what I desire."

[forasecondtherewedwon]

It's Enough, It's Enough - final chapter

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Chapter: 6 / 6

Summary: Five times Jane and Guildford pretend to have sex, and one time it’s for real.

read on tumblr: one | two | three | four | five

It isn’t the sex that makes them different. In Guildford’s opinion, it’s everything after. It’s walking into her chambers as she’s getting ready and witnessing her before the mirror—she is gilded, dazzling—and feeling as if he’s seeing the sun with human eyes for the first time in many, many years. It’s that she notices the moment he enters the room. It’s the high, sweet “Hi” in response to his greeting that is at once perfectly innocent and all-knowing. She’s a kind of god to him, Jane. Does she know? Can she feel him gazing wonderingly up at her from his knees, even while they stand?

His hands squeeze around the shape of the gift he brought her, pearls pressing his palms. The fact of their arranged marriage was probably supposed to be the main exchange between them, since his family’s not actually rich and Jane has (rightly, in his opinion) refused to elevate him above Consort. It gives Guildford a particular pleasure to offer something so small, and valuable primarily for sentimental reasons. There’s no motive behind the gift, no expectation, no trade, no angle. There’s only this difference between them, a new closeness he didn’t see coming. It makes him silly and soft and achingly desperate to woo her—the woman who’s already his wife.

He’s had the earrings for years, kept them safe from the items his father has spoiled and sold. They’ve sat in a small box. Because of this, Guildford remembered the pearls as somewhat dull, but when he thought of them for Jane, when he retrieved them, he discovered he’d been utterly wrong. When he opens his hands to reveal them to Jane, the pearls look as they did to him earlier. They are unlike diamonds or jewels, their milkiness blurring the glow of the candles rather than brilliantly scattering it. It’s as though the pearls capture the light, allowing Guildford to offer this too to Jane: the intangible, the ephemeral. After the way she made him feel in the stables last night, it seems appropriate.

The thing is that Guildford believed he knew all the selves he could be. He knew the one he hates and avoids until dawn forces it upon him, and he knew the mordant and tetchy self prone to habitual drunkenness. The truth is he believed the whole of himself ugly, in one way and another. He thought his past had disfigured any genuine goodness in him beyond recognition or repair. He thought there was no longer anything more to see, and certainly nothing to want, and certainly nothing to love.

Jane loves him.

He has a self that can be loved.

And when he’s complete, it will be as that self. When Jane finds the cure to the intolerability he can’t control, he’ll cure the rest himself, and no longer be sarcastic and chippy and bad-mannered and wine-soaked. He’ll be free of the ugliness piled atop ugliness. It will be like being born a second time. Carefully, Guildford slips the earrings into Jane’s ears. They suit her. As they suited his mother.

He's never felt prouder and braver than he does entering her coronation banquet by her side. Someone rains white rose petals down upon them, upon her, and her eyes lift, full of gentle awe. Should he tell her who is responsible for this detail? That it wasn’t her mother or sisters or a member of the palace staff? That he saw the roses in the garden himself on his way up from the stables this evening. He’s seen them before, but tonight, with the equally white pearls tucked in his fist, Guildford came to a full stop and stared at them. He walked inside and told someone, “Queen Jane has to have rose petals. They will delight her.” It delights him that they do, that it worked, that he has already made her happy twice tonight—the pearls and the roses.

It's fortunate that there’s so much at the banquet to distract him from thoughts of showering Jane in rose petals while she lies in his bed. Otherwise, Guildford might kidnap the Queen from her own celebration and try out those fantasies immediately. As it is, he only manages to keep his eyes off her for a minute at a time at most before casting his gaze about the room to locate her. The dignitaries probably find him rude, the nobles a bore. The Ethians, if they knew he was one of them, would likely make jokes about a tamed animal in their midst. His best chance at not appearing a complete, full-time fool for his wife is to enter into a conversation that actually engages him. He knows who he needs to talk to.

“Anyone made an attempt on your life lately?” Susannah inquires dryly when he finds her by the wall.

“Good evening,” he replies, as though she said something normal and polite. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh, was I meant to do that part first? The lying bit?”

Guildford sighs while Susannah watches him with sharp eyes.

“It’s court,” he says. “The lying bit’s the whole bit.” He frowns. “But I wasn’t lying. It is good to see you, Susannah.”

She lifts her eyebrows in obvious incredulity.

“You know what, Guildford? It’s good to see you too. Good to see you not pointing a knife at me like you were the last time we met.”

He scoffs.

“That was only at the beginning.”

“Well, excuse me. That was the part that made an impression.” She gives him a sideways look like she’s sizing him up. “Even if I doubt you coulda done much with it.”

“I’ll have you know I—”

“Have you ever bested Jane with a blade? Talk to me when you’ve bested Jane.”

Guildford sulks. She didn’t even give him a chance to answer. Even if her assumption is correct. Then again, Susannah doesn’t know that Jane fights dirty—though Guildford doesn’t plan to share how every thought fled his mind the moment Jane pinned him beneath her on the forest floor, her warm weight astride his hips, the steel of his own knife scraping along hers as she brought them both to his throat. He probably shouldn’t savour the memory of his defeat this much, but he does.

“You’re inviting me to talk to you again?” Guildford questions wryly. “I thought you were rather unsure of me.”

Susannah shrugs and says, “Jane seems happy,” as though in explanation. It’s a good one, as far as Guildford is concerned. “As happy as she can be with the world on her shoulders.”

“Not the world. Just England. Well, and Ireland, but—”

Her warning look makes Guildford swallow back the dismissive remark he was about to make about the country which, yes, judging by her accent, is the one from which Susannah hails. Oops.

“As I was sayin’,” Susannah continues, “I’d talk to you again because my friend’s happy, and because I’m somehow standin’ in this room. You didn’t try to talk her out of invitin’ Ethians?”

“No.”

“Even though I tricked her and got a load of your silver candlesticks?”

Guildford doesn’t love being reminded of that, but he can tell Susannah’s just testing him, seeing if she can provoke him. It won’t work. Guildford happens to be pretty happy too.

“I admire her,” he says plainly. Not I helped her or even I agree with her, but his words are still the truth. He wants to live the way he chooses and believes others should be allowed to do the same, even if he can’t understand how they embrace what he can’t bear.

“So do I,” Susannah affirms. There isn’t the smallest hint of teasing confrontation in her tone now.

They were so sincere that it begins to grow awkward. He should circulate, speak with other guests, but he can’t abruptly abandon Susannah to do that. He came over to her in the first place because he wanted to better their relationship. If he leaves her, it isn’t like she can easily find someone else to talk to; there’s plenty of prejudice in this room. Plenty of it lives inside Guildford’s own ribcage, but it stays there, turned inward. Anyway, it’s muted just now, thanks to Jane and the hope she gives him. Hey! Maybe he could catch Jane’s eye and bring her over here. That’ll give Susannah someone else to talk to, and Guildford can be near his wife. Possibly place his hand on her back or twine his fingers through hers.

“Could’ve given the wine dispensers a bit more thought,” Susannah observes.

Guildford’s prepared to be grateful for anything she says to break the silence, but as he follows her gaze to the wine dispensers in question, he realizes she’s swung away from earnestness and back to humour—and this time, not at his expense.

Red wine flows from golden spouts in the shape of lion heads. The longer Guildford watches the liquid pour from their mouths, the more he finds himself agreeing with Susannah’s assessment.

“It does sort of look like blood,” he admits.

“Blood streaming from the mouth of an animal. Not the most sensitive touch when you’ve got Ethian guests.”

“I’ve no idea whose idea that was.”

“Is it meant to be literal, do you think?” Susannah wonders. They both tilt their heads as they consider the lions. “You know, a blatant ‘death to Ethians’ message? Or is it more symbolic, with the lion representing England?”

“And Ireland,” Guildford adds to be facetious.

Susannah glances at him.

“You little shite.”

But he turns to her and sees she’s smiling.

Just as he feels they’re really beginning to get along, some asshole who thinks they’re somebody interrupts them, demanding his attention, expecting him to throw over the Ethian who’s monopolizing his time without a second thought. Guildford’s annoyed enough at being cornered that he’s about to correct the intruder’s assumption, but Susannah slips away before he can waylay her.

Guildford does his best First Husband after that, smiling and shaking hands as he navigates the room. He isn’t especially keen to speak with any of the other Ethians, until he starts to think about it, how this might be his chance to help Jane help him. Asking one of them about a cure directly should save his wife some time, surely. A quick, simple conversation instead of hours pouring over a text requiring scrutiny and translation. At last, he can contribute. It will no longer be the project he tricked her into, that he foisted upon her when they married. They can do this together.

Only it doesn’t go as he hopes. Asking after a cure insults the Ethians, and Guildford extracts himself awkwardly. Saying the wrong thing isn’t just uncomfortable—it might have political ramifications. But maybe they were just fucking with him, like the redheaded man implied. Guildford isn’t impressed by the thought, but he’s ready to look the idiot in order to preserve calm at the banquet. It could be that the Ethians he spoke to were uncommonly sensitive, or uncommonly uncouth. He could ask someone else. He could ask their leader, Archer, if he knows of a cure. Guildford is not yet out of options.

He’s deciding when to approach Archer, how exactly to ask this time, when Jane surprises him, leading him from the room. He watches her earrings swing, the pearls silken in the light.

—

The hurt is enormous. It’s as if a void as deep and dark as the night sky above them is opening in Guildford’s chest. Not even opening: reopening. A sewn-up wound is unstitched.

She just told him there is no cure.

Being near Jane is impossible. Staying is impossible. She wasn’t supposed to hurt him. Not her, not now that he loves her and made love to her. It’s almost religious, the fervour in her face when she speaks of healing England. Guildford shouts at her, and it rips the look from her features as if she wore a mask. But it’s himself he feels he’s exposed—himself, ugly and frightened and alone.

They stand beneath the lattice, down below the courtyard where the guests who’ve spilled out of the banquet stroll and converse. For a moment, he watches their legs. And then he goes.

He can hardly tell he’s moving except Jane’s voice is getting more frantic, calling his name. All he wants is to break into a run. The fire flares up in one of the braziers lining the walkway, and he experiences a second flash, inside his mind: he imagines being a horse, how much more swiftly he could flee. Guildford grits his teeth and tries to shake off the impulse, but it only makes him think of gnashing a bit and tossing his mane. His behaviour suddenly seems so equine to him that he starts to panic, terrified that the other self will invade and his humanity will be lost. He’ll be gone, down this path, galloping alongside this stone wall until he outstrips it and races into the darkness, and Jane will be here, still calling his name.

Guildford stops because it feels worse to leave her. He’s furious with her—or maybe just with himself for his failings. For being one of Jane’s.

He doesn’t turn, but she catches up; in her beautiful gown with her twinkling Medici collar, the crafted crown atop her head spired like a cathedral. She is delicately and powerfully adorned, and Guildford was hoping this night would end with the chance to undo it all. There’s an itch that makes his fingers curl in towards his palms, an itch to take her all apart again, piece by piece, lay every golden thing by and hold her in his arms like he did last night. Just last night. When they believed in one another.

He glances briefly at her face.

“Are you crying because you’re sorry, or only because you’re worried I’ll ruin your party?” he asks cruelly. Hating himself, hating himself, loving her.

Jane doesn’t try to stop the tears, to brush them into her eyes, to roll that which rolls down back up again like a length of carpet. She just cries in silence. He feels as if she cries for them both; somehow, his heart breaks, but it’s her eyes that overflow.

“There’s nothing I can do,” she says despairingly, her voice thick and wet. “I can read books about natural philosophy, but I can’t change how the world works. I can no more prevent metamorphosis than I can walk to the sun! It’s—”

“That’s enough,” he interrupts. He doesn’t let himself speak as loudly as he did before—there are people, just up there, enjoying the courtyard—but his tone is colder than any he’s ever used with her.

Before they can figure out what more to say to each other, if there are any words for this in any language, they hear their names from above. The guests are speculating about what Queen Jane and Lord Guildford Dudley are doing down there by themselves. They must have heard raised voices before Guildford mastered himself and spoke more softly. At least their eavesdropping hasn’t been overly successful. It can’t have been, or they’d know he’s Ethian and it’d be guards shouting their names, not merely speaking them with curiosity.

“Please, Guildford,” Jane begs. In her panic, her tears no longer flow, but he can still see the shiny tracks on her cheeks. “The assumption will be that we’ve had a fight about Division Laws, that we aren’t united. Please. There’s so much at risk.”

“You’re selfish.” He speaks the accusation like a fact.

“I need you,” she says simply, neither challenging nor agreeing with him.

Guildford tells himself it’s manipulation that draws him towards her, that a consort is no better than a pawn in this chess match his wife and her adversaries are playing. Think he never had a prayer against her self-serving machinations is what Guildford must do to permit himself to get close to her instead of running.

“So, then,” he says, gaze hard as he looks down on Jane’s upturned face, “we stole away because we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Her eyes search his, but he won’t let her in.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Because we put each other first.”

“Yes.”

“Because,” Guildford concludes, “we are very much in love.”

Jane’s eyes fill with tears, but before he’s forced to watch them spill, he kisses her. When her body sways into his grasp, he holds her, and they stumble towards the wall.

The foliage above them provides a partial screen—probably enough of a screen that they could just pretend to kiss, but Guildford doesn’t say this. He barely breaks away from her mouth enough to breathe. The rest is fake: what they imply when they lift the sumptuous fabric of her overskirt and the hoop skirt beneath, when he presses her to the wall and exaggerates the thrust of his hips. Their guests will believe what seems obvious—that Jane and Guildford, in their newlywed ardour, fled into semi-privacy to engage in the marital act.

It’s a performance of their shadows even more than their bodies. The brazier fires stretch their shapes up and along the wall. Guildford catches some of the performance when his eyes flicker open slightly, pining for a glimpse of his wife. He envies them; their shadows can’t feel distrust, or anguish, or betrayal. They can’t really love any more than they can really fuck. His eyes close again because the shadows can’t hold his attention like Jane does, like she actually, truly holds him, clutching his face so he won’t stop kissing her. Oh. He's scared her too.

Guildford argues through the kiss. You can survive without me, his lips insist. I can’t, without you. He keeps trying to separate them—not their mouths, but their lives. Stubbornly, Jane holds them together. The more adamantly she kisses him, the harder he tries to reconcile it with how he feels she abandoned him. She did, didn’t she? She basically told him she was going to stop trying, that she’s given up on a cure. But if she has, there can be nothing else about him to want! So why does she still want him?! Her fingers grip his jaw.

What if he’s only this, this mess who does things like distrust her and yell at her? What if he’s going to keep becoming a horse, every single day until the day of his death—which the horse thing will only serve to speed the approach of? What if he can fix every other part of himself, but not his transformation? Will he be a man worth having? Or did she fall in love with the cured man of their joint imagining? Does Guildford lose, after everything, to a fantasy, a fiction, a shadow?

Impulsively, Guildford shoves away from Jane. Her desperate panting is loud behind him as he strides to the nearest brazier and kicks the pole supporting it. She doesn’t call him back this time, and he kicks and kicks until the pole, which has been sunk firmly into the earth, comes loose and tilts at a wild angle. Chunked charcoal tumbles out, and fire spills like water across the grass, scorching it. But the lawn is damp tonight, preventing the fire from spreading. Either no one up above notices, or it’s all just part of the spectacle: the impassioned Guildford Dudley, showing off for his wife.

Quickly, the flames die, and Guildford and Jane stand in a darkened gap between the remaining braziers. He breathes hard in the aftermath of his destruction. They’re more hidden from their audience, but that hardly matters. He’s realized he has no performance left in him. Just himself.

Guildford goes to Jane. In the shelter of the wall, it smells like smoke and greenery and the wine on his breath. She looks concerned for him, for what he just did, but that was nothing, means nothing; there are hotter things than charcoal rattling around within him, burning him slowly from the inside out.

“You might not care,” he says quietly, “but I do. I care who I am. What I am.”

“I care that you’re unhappy,” Jane replies. Her speech is quick and her eyes pleading as if she’s worried he’ll storm off.

“I have every right to be! How can I be otherwise when you tell me I’m doomed? And you’ve already moved on! All of England is first in your heart!”

“That will never be true.”

Maybe because she’s afraid he would jerk his hand from her grasp, Jane grabs the front of his doublet instead.

“All the world comes before me,” he insists, and he can hear that it’s he who is the selfish one, not Jane like he accused.

“No one does,” she murmurs. Her hand relaxes as she flattens her palm over his heart.

“They should,” Guildford retorts. His heart pounds painfully. Can she feel? “It would be simpler.”

“But it would be a lie.”

Jane gazes steadily up at him. He knows she wouldn’t lie—for him maybe, but not to him. Nor he to her. And yet it suddenly feels as if he has been, that he’s been lying every moment he hasn’t told her aloud that he loves her. But, gods, how can he if she can’t heal him and he can’t forgive her?

“I’m sorry,” she says unexpectedly, lowering her gaze. Her hand slips from his chest to hang at her side. “I guess I’m no good to you now. You only wanted one thing, and I can’t give it to you.”

Guildford is taken aback. It feels as though her words compose the lines he was meant to say. He’s sorry. He’s no good to her. She only wanted one thing, a divorce, but a divorce—especially a royal divorce—means attention, and they cannot be scrutinized while he remains a horse. He’ll be discovered, and then they’ll both die, and it won’t fucking matter who Jane, in all her optimism, hoped to heal. She has never been the problem. It’s him, always him.

He does his best to say all this, but Jane gently places a hand across his lips. He stills. He quiets. When she takes her hand away, he leans forward and kisses her without a second thought. She returns his kiss uncertainly, he can feel it: her doubt and self-flagellation. Guildford pulls his mouth away and takes Jane by her upper arms.

“I wanted that one thing,” he agrees, “but you are what I need.”

“I let you down.”

“I asked for something impossible. And”—Guildford swallows nervously—“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to do it again.”

“What are you asking?” Jane’s hands find his on her arms and pull them down to clasp between their bodies.

“I’m asking you to love me,” he astounds himself by saying. He has to blink a few times. “Because I love you. I love you, Jane.”

He repeats it because his wife appears staggered by the declaration, and because he’s not actually sure he can stop, after guarding his feelings for her so closely.

“I love you whatever my form,” Guildford goes on. “I’m sorry I appointed you my saviour. I know you never asked me to.”

“You’ll love me even if I’m not?” she asks, eyes full of emotion.

“Of course. I’d love you if you were only the girl in the tavern and not queen.”

“Sometimes I wish I were,” Jane admits with a half-smile.

“No one’s ever looked at me the way you did across the room that night. I think I’ll always see that girl, that expression you wore. You’ll live in the corner of my eye.”

“Don’t speak like you’re leaving me.”

Guildford sighs and touches his forehead to Jane’s. He closes his eyes.

“I tried. I can’t.”

Their arms go around each other.

“But you’re angry with me,” she says.

“I wanted a miracle. I’m mostly angry with myself.”

Calm and soft and simple, Jane says, “I love you,” and Guildford opens his eyes, lifting his head.

“You do?”

“I love you more than the whole kingdom can contain. I still love you if you’re angry with me.” She smiles knowingly.

“The anger won’t last,” he promises.

“Good, because I hate it, and I’m no good at being stoic.”

“Shut up, you’re amazing at it.”

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” Jane demands, bristling, but Guildford kisses her with a smile on his face.

“Lovingly,” he insists between kisses.

He feels her smile back, then he kisses her deeply. He has to remind himself to keep his hands low; he wants to run one up the back of her neck, burrow his fingers into her done-up hair, but there’s the crown to worry about, and the fanning collar, and part of him can’t bear to dishevel the beautiful arrangement of her.

Though Jane might long to be the girl she was, lust-struck in a tavern, he finds her a thoroughly convincing queen. What does a queen do but strive for harmony amongst the disparate parts of her country? Guildford recognizes in Jane a similar striving to reconcile the two selves she’s named. There could be more, selves she hasn’t even articulated to herself. He understands. Gods, how he understands. It can be exhausting—except when he has her in his arms, in the dark. He chances skimming fingertips up the side of Jane’s neck when her head tilts as they kiss. He feels the blood jump beneath her skin, touching her below her jaw, then following the line of her jaw up to her ear. He feels the smooth, round pearls. Jane hugs him close to her, inviting his mouth down to hers again and again.

When they come away from the wall, Guildford has Jane on his arm. They look like they’ve been kissing. Sometimes, looks do not deceive.

[starsareshinning]

High School AU: What year everyone is in and some Info

SENIORS

Annalise Lusen Mia: She’s a student nurse that had an opportunity to learn from the nurse working at Proxy High. She took it now she goes to the nurses office whenever she can to learn and help out.

Liu Woods: Moving from Ottawa to Toronto he’s brand new to the district and city. Liu looks like your average loser, but he’s much more. A lot more social.

Helen Otis: Helen was actually sent to jail for attempted murder. He lied and manipulated his way through, pretending he was getting better. He is now back in Proxy High. He has a weird obsession with blood.

Candy Pop: Funky little jester who looks as if he’s ready to catch Pokémon! He was born in New York but now lives in Toronto Canada with a weird man (human Night Terrors) who he avoids by filling up his free time with after school activities.

Nathan Maxwell Lux: Goth guy who’s a hater and can be a bitch. He’s also Candy Pop’s best friend and neighbor, which can suck because Candy Pop is annoying as hell. But they get along. Somehow.

Dina Angela Clark: Dina is known for being a sweetheart, her whole reputation was built upon her sweetness. She helps out whenever and whoever she can. Everyone calls her an Angel. However, just because she is an angel, doesn’t mean she’ll let people walk over her.

Kagekao: School’s one and only plug. I’m not kidding when I say that. Kagekao provides people with drugs and alcohol, though he only provides it to trusted and known people. Ones who won’t snitch. He’s also one of the rich students that attends Proxy High.

Jason Meyers: Honor student. His parents expect highly of him, and so his own exceptions of himself are high. Though his wish is to be a toymaker, he knows his parents would kill him if he ever said that out loud. Jason gets bullied because he is: British, a born red head, self-centered, and worst of all…he wears a top hat.

Ciara H. Callaghan: In a loving and healthy relationship with Nathan. She’s a confident student, doesn’t let anyone mess with her or someone she care deeply about. Lives with Candy Pop and (human) Night Terrors.

JUNIORS

Alice Marie Jackson (Zero): Alice prefers to go by Zero. Her adopted father is abusive to her so she usually spends her nights at Kagekao’s rich ass mansion. It’s gotten to the point where she can be called a roommate.

Jack Nyras: Most people dislike him because of his personality. Which is sarcastic while also being a smart ass. Group projects with him? You won’t be doing anything. He does all the work. He chooses to do all the work just because he doesn’t trust anyone else. Despite this, he can be caring for some people. He lives with his three siblings and older cousin.

Jonathan Blake (The Puppeteer): He’s sort of a sad little man these days. Found out his girlfriend cheated on him, but he has his best friend Helen Otis. Jon likes instruments and arts! He works as a delivery person. Delivers pizza at night and newspaper in the morning.

Laughing Jack: Schools personal clown. People either hate him or love him, he pulls pranks on anyone, anything, and everyone. No one is safe from him. Not even the teachers! He’s gotten in trouble because of his pranks. Oh and. He’s most likely never going to graduate. So. Have Fun LJ. His childhood best friend who was Issac Grossman turned out to be a serial killer, so that fucked him up a bit. But, he distracts himself with jokes and avoids people who want to question him about it.

Laughing Jill: She is Laughing Jacks twin sister. She’s the better twin. She does pull pranks, however her pranks only targets assholes like school bullies! Sometimes she gets pulled into LJ’s shenanigans. She does ballet after school!

Jane Richardson: She’s in a relationship with Mary. She’s also an honor student! Jane doesn’t mess around with her grades, she does everything on time and completed. She wants to make her parents proud (they already are).

Natalie Oullette: Natalie is known for getting into fights. She’s a sucker breaker through and through. She skips most of her classes and leaves the school when it gets to lunchtime. Her family is a mess which she avoids ever interacting with.

Sophomores

William Grossman: Will loves crime podcasts, especially the ones that talk about his cousin: Issac Grossman. He works at a hotdog stand at the malls food court, needing money because he’s poor. He gets bullied because he’s poor. It’s not fun.

Jeffery Alan Woods: Liu’s younger brother who helps Liu sneak out of the house occasionally. Jeff is a closeted homosexual who wants to become emo, but unfortunately cannot because of how strict and religious his parents are. He hates going to a new school because he has to make new friends, and that’s a bit difficult to do when you keep moving.

Frankie: He has an alcoholic deadbeat father who uses the money he earns to get more alcohol. And his mother is a junkie that won’t quit doing drugs. So to provide for him and his little sister, he sometimes steals his parents booze and drugs to sell them on the streets. Frankie sometimes works at the mall as well. Part time worker.

Cody Richards: Cody is a science and biology nerd. His adopted father is a famous scientist so he wants to follow his legacy. However he’s also a straight forward guy who will insult anyone who annoys him, even when they’re right in front of him.

Tobias Erin Rogers: Toby’s parents are going through a divorce, which meant he could no longer stayed homeschooled. It was a hard decision, but his mom had to let him go into public school. Toby’s excited to start his first year at Proxy High! (Oh he’s so cooked.)

Freshmen

Nina Hopkins: Nina runs the biggest gossip blog, she’s been running it since elementary. She knows everyone and everyone knows her. Because her parents are busy she lives with her grandma and her little brother, Chris.

Kate Milens: Kate is sort of a social student! She talks to anyone that she thinks is interesting enough. When she’s not talking she listening to music and sketching on her sketch book. She likes hearing Nina yap about her blog.

Vaughn Pavel Volikov: Or more known as Vine is a very sad and traumatized student. His foster parents sent him into public school. He hates interacting with older men that isn’t Papa Grande (who he finds comfort in). Once he’s at the age of eighteen he inherits his father’s fortune.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Loki's Sweet Treat

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Dark!Loki x Honey!Reader

About 20k words, so tread carefully

Honey Duval navigates the treacherous world of high society, facing family tensions, personal struggles, and Loki's dark interest in her. As she tries to protect her family's fragile reputation, Honey finds herself entangled in dangerous power plays and secrets that threaten her future.

Warning:

This story contains graphic content that may be disturbing to readers, including themes of sexual assault, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Explicit scenes involving non-consensual encounters, coercion, and power dynamics are present, which may be triggering for some readers.

The sun streamed in through the tall windows of Lady Jane's sitting room, casting a golden glow on the well-dressed women gathered for tea. The gentle clink of China and the murmur of conversation filled the air, yet I couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. I lingered at the edge of the room, blending into the wallpaper as I clutched my teacup, regretting my decision to come to this wretched party.

Of course, I had little choice. My family, the Duvals, were barely clinging to their status, and everyone knew it. The invitations I received weren’t because I was welcome, they were because everyone wanted to bask in the schadenfreude of watching the once-prominent Duval family teeter on the brink of losing everything. That’s why I found myself at yet another gathering, pretending to fit in while my family’s fortunes slipped further through our fingers.

 Lady Jane, our host, sat near the center of the room, surrounded by her usual crowd of sycophants. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her thinly veiled hostility or the saccharine sweetness she used to mask it. Either way, she made my skin crawl and today, her vitriol was aimed squarely at the Royal Family of Asgard.

“Can you believe it?” Lady Jane sneered, her voice carrying across the room. “That woman, Cyan, is to be our future queen? It’s an outrage! A commoner, raised among peasants, is supposed to marry the crowned prince? What are they thinking?!”

Her audience murmured their agreement, some nodding so vigorously I wondered if their heads might fall off. They all knew better than to cross Lady Jane, who was still nursing her bitter disappointment over not being chosen by the prince herself. 

“I was so certain Thor had his eye on me,” Jane continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “But instead, they choose a woman without breeding, without class! Imagine Queen Freya’s humiliation.”

One of the ladies beside her leaned in. “I’ve heard the queen is mortified. She’s so ashamed of the match that she barely speaks of it.”

 I tried to tune out their gossip, but it was impossible. This was what passed for entertainment among women like Jane,tearing down anyone who dared to rise above their station.  

I took a small sip of tea, my gaze wandering to where my younger sister, Saffron, sat. She was newly debuted, and though she carried herself with grace, I knew she felt as out of place as I did. It was hard not to, with the ever-looming threat of our family’s collapse hanging over our heads. 

 “The only good thing to come from this debacle,” Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts, “is the ball they’re throwing to celebrate the engagement. At least we’ll get a grand event out of it.”

 The other women tittered with laughter, clearly enjoying the idea of a lavish ball more than the prospect of a common-born queen.

And to think," Jane added, her voice lowering, "there were times Thor would have done anything to get under my skirts. What a shame he felt the need to settle for Cyan."

The room erupted into gasps and giggles, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The audacity. The rumor about Lady Jane and Thor had been swirling for ages, but I had my doubts. If Thor had ever entertained such an affair, he certainly wasn’t entertaining it now.

 I leaned back against my chair, feeling invisible and detached from their world of petty gossip and social climbing. The Duvals may have been struggling, but at least we hadn’t descended to Lady Jane’s level of desperation. Not yet, anyway.

 As the conversation continued to swirl around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for someone like Cyan, entering a world that was waiting for her to fail. And as much as I despised Lady Jane’s cruelty, I also feared for what might be in store for me and Saffron. After all, even those who seemed untouchable could easily be cast aside.

The tea party was a spectacle of opulence, an excuse for the nobility to gather and show off their status. I sat toward the edge of the gathering with Saffron, doing my best to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult, most of the women here treated us as though we didn’t exist. I should’ve known better than to come, but Mother had insisted we make an appearance. As if mingling with these people could somehow save the Duval name.

I heard the snickers before I even focused on the conversation.

"Honestly, it’s a miracle the Duvals are still being invited to these things," Lady Margaret said, her voice unnecessarily loud. She made no effort to lower her tone, her words clearly meant for my ears. "You’d think they’d have the good sense to keep a low profile instead of parading their desperation."

The other women laughed, their voices high and cruel. Saffron’s face turned pale beside me, her fingers nervously clutching her tea. I clenched my fists under the table.

"They’re just biding their time, hoping to sell off one of those pretty daughters to keep the estate afloat," Lady Sharon added, her gaze flickering over to us briefly. "Though I doubt anyone of real consequence would be interested."

The comment hung in the air, and the group of women dissolved into more laughter. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was as if our very existence amused them, as if our struggles were a source of entertainment.

“Pathetic,” Jane sneered. “Trying to scrape by with the little dignity they have left.I would have never invited them had mother not insisted”

The tension within me snapped.

I stood up slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. "It’s curious, Lady Jane," I said, my voice calm though every word was sharpened with intention, "how loudly you speak about dignity when it’s something you’ve long since thrown away."

The laughter died abruptly, and all eyes turned to me. Saffron looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. But I had reached my limit.

Jane blinked, her mouth tightening. "Excuse me?"

I stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve heard the rumors, Jane. Everyone has. You thought lying on your back would secure yourself a crown, as if a few stolen moments beneath a prince would make you queen." I let the words sink in, watching as Jane’s composure faltered. "It’s rather tragic, really, how you’ve convinced yourself that by spreading your legs, you could spread your influence."

There was a collective gasp from the group, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Jane’s face went pale, then flushed a deep crimson. “You—how dare you speak to me like that!”

"I dare because it's the truth," I said coolly, holding her gaze. "You gamble with your pride, and yet here you are, no crown, no prince, no claim, just a scorned woman who can’t seem to grasp why a prince didn’t choose her."

The room had gone deathly silent. Saffron was staring at me, wide-eyed, and the other ladies looked like they couldn’t decide whether to intervene or flee. Jane’s face contorted with fury, but before she could spit out a retort, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"Next time you want to mock someone’s struggles, Jane, make sure your own failures aren’t quite so obvious."

I straightened up and walked back toward my seat, feeling every pair of eyes on me. Saffron looked at me as though I’d just declared war on the entire room, her hands trembling in her lap.

I could feel Jane’s burning stare, her dignity in tatters, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. The truth had been laid bare, and no amount of biting retort could salvage her pride now.

"Saffron, let’s go." My voice was steady, though my heart still raced from the confrontation. I guided my sister out of the room, her arm linked through mine, and we stepped out into the cool air, away from the judgment and venom of those who thrived on misfortune.

We were still the subject of their gossip, still teetering on the edge of ruin. But I wouldn’t let them crush us. Not without a fight.

Baroness Helena Duval, my mother, paced the drawing room, her eyes sharp and angry as she threw a furious glance at me. My father, Reginald, stood at the window with his back to us, silent, as was his usual stance when my mother unleashed her wrath.

"I can't believe you! Every invitation we had received, every opportunity to mingle with those that could possibly save us, gone!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

I remained silent, standing in the corner with Saffron beside me, while my mother focused all her ire on me. "Do you understand what you've done? Lady Jane is connected to half the nobility in the kingdom! And what do you do? Confront her about her...fraternizing with the Crown Prince?"

She spat out the last words as if they were poison, her tone as biting as ever. But I wasn’t about to apologize, not to Lady Jane, and certainly not for speaking the truth.

Helena's sharp eyes flicked over to Saffron, softening just a touch as she sighed deeply. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Graceful, quiet, and demure. Everything a young lady should be."

Saffron, at those words, dropped her head in shame, and my heart clenched for her. I knew she hated when our mother used her as an example, especially because "graceful and demure" really meant spineless. Saffron had told me that, late one night when we were younger, and ever since then, whenever someone praised her, I knew she felt nothing but shame.

I reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze, letting her know I understood. I wasn’t offended by my mother’s words; I knew this was simply how she thought. To her, Saffron was the perfect daughter, the one who played her role quietly, and I- well, I was the one who didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

My mother’s sharp eyes softened momentarily when she noticed me grab Saffron’s hand, but her anger was far from gone. She let out a deep, exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to me, her voice dripping with frustration.

“What in God's name possessed you to confront Lady Jane in the first place?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not quite as biting as before.

I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly. "She called us pathetic," I said simply.

She paused, her eyes flickering with something close to understanding. For a brief moment, the fury drained from her face, and she almost looked sympathetic. Almost.

"I understand your frustration, Honey. Truly, I do," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But jumping straight into social suicide...was that really the best course of action?"

I bit my tongue, looking down at my feet. No, it wasn’t.

 "We are on the verge of losing everything," she said, her voice softer but filled with a different kind of anger. "This was our chance, Honey. The ball, the invitations...they were supposed to help secure our future. Now-now we are outcasts. Again."

I said nothing, knowing full well she wasn’t looking for a reply. But deep down, I couldn’t regret my actions, not when I thought of the smug look on Lady Jane’s face as she droned on about her imagined place in the royal court.

As my mother left the room in frustration, I turned to Saffron, squeezing her hand again. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on both of us, and there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of it.

“At least we won’t be wasting any more money on dresses and jewelry,” I muttered under my breath.

At that, my father let out a hearty laugh, walking up to the both of us but locking his gaze on me.

“You realize what you did could ruin us, right?” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and warning.

I dropped my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Yes, Father,” I answered, my voice begrudging but respectful.

He grunted, smirking as he leaned down to kiss both Saffron and me on the forehead.

“Don’t worry too much, my dear. We’ll get through this, like we always have,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive of the severity of the situation.

It didn't erase the weight of my mother’s words or the danger we were in, but my father’s confidence, misplaced or not, eased the tension for moments as brief as these.

The Duvals were enjoying a rare moment of quiet in their living space. Saffron and Mother were embroidering by the window, their needles gliding through fabric with delicate precision. Father and I sat side by side, each absorbed in the local news when our butler, Gerard, suddenly burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Baroness, Baron! You’ve received an invitation from the palace!" he announced, holding the crisp, cream-colored envelope as though it were made of pure gold. 

Mother looked up from her embroidery, visibly shocked. "An invitation?" she murmured, her voice barely hiding her surprise. I could see it in her eyes, she had resigned herself to a quiet fall from grace, expecting our family to fade into the background without further notice. Yet here was a summons, proof that the royal family had not completely turned its back on us.

Father reached for the envelope, breaking the royal seal. He cleared his throat before reading aloud: “You are cordially invited to the engagement party of the Crown Prince Thor and his fiancée Cyan.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips. Of all the people to be engaged to a prince, it was Lady Cyan. She had no title and no noble lineage to speak of, yet here she was, about to marry the future king.What a fairytale. The invitation, unsurprisingly, didn’t mention any title for Lady Cyan, she had none yet, but once she married Thor, she would become the Crowned Princess.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of delight. Deep down, I couldn’t deny my penchant for stirring the pot of intrigue. And watching someone like Cyan, a peasant girl, rise to a position of power was sure to throw the entire class system into chaos. And with our family teetering on the edge of ruin, what was the harm in finding a little entertainment before we were booted from high society?

The evening of the party arrived quickly. The Royal Garden was breathtaking, every inch of it meticulously prepared for the grand affair. Saffron and I stood by the fountain, sipping champagne and enjoying the soothing trickle of the water as we waited for the royal family to make their entrance.

When they finally appeared, the crowd gasped in awe. King Odin and Queen Freya entered first, regal as ever, their presence demanding respect. Hela and Loki followed, each exuding their own form of royal authority. And then, the couple of the hour, Prince Thor and Lady Cyan.

I nearly choked on my champagne when I saw Lady Cyan.

She looked... awful.

Her hair was down but tangled and unbrushed, her makeup was smeared and unflattering, and worst of all, she wore a dress that had been popular last season, as if she hadn’t noticed the fashion had moved on. Even her shoes were an insult,flats, when everyone knew a proper royal event required heels. It was clear to me that the palace maids had set her up for failure, likely encouraged by none other than the ladies in waiting, who were no doubt snickering behind her back.

A quick glance toward Lady Jane confirmed my suspicions. There she was, surrounded by her loyal gaggle of women, all of them giggling into their gloves like schoolgirls. I could practically hear the whispers, whispers that Jane herself had probably orchestrated.

Yet, even as Cyan stood there, a vision of royal disaster, Thor remained unfazed. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the room, his eyes filled with love and admiration. It was almost endearing, in a sickening sort of way.

When the time came for the royals to mingle, I made sure to stay out of the way. I had no intention of angering Mother any further after the debacle with Lady Jane. Saffron, naturally, trailed behind me like a shadow, her shy demeanor making her hesitant to stray too far. She chattered quietly about a romance novel she’d been reading with her friends, her soft voice blending with the music that floated through the garden. Just as she was getting to a particularly juicy part, where the Duke of the novel had finally caught the Princess in a compromising position, our mother appeared, with Duke Bruce Banner in tow.

Mother’s smile was painfully forced as she practically pushed Saffron into Duke Banner’s path. "Saffron, darling, the Duke was just asking about you," she cooed, already working her magic to arrange yet another another potential match for her favorite child. Despite Saffron’s beauty,for some reason her shy and quiet nature had kept many potential husbands at bay, one would think they’d enjoy it.But Mother wasn’t one to give up easily.

I stood back, watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Saffron might be the favorite, but she hated being paraded around like this. I gave her a sympathetic glance before turning my attention elsewhere. I had no interest in finding a match tonight, especially not when I was feeling like a mere observer to a world that was slipping away from us.

While Mother busied herself with Saffron and the Duke, I slipped away, seeking solace at the border where the Royal Garden met the Royal Forest. The sounds of the party grew distant as I found a quiet bench beneath a cluster of trees, my thoughts swirling as I sipped the last of my champagne. This engagement party was a disaster for Lady Cyan, and no doubt her ascension would continue to be entertaining, if nothing else, it would distract the nobles from our impending downfall.

The sound of a timid "Oh" pulled me from the quiet of my thoughts. I turned my head and found the future Crowned Princess standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Lady Cyan stammered, already stepping back as though she had committed some great offense.

“Nonsense,” I replied, rising from my seat near the edge of the garden. “If anything, I am intruding on your walk.” I bowed my head before making my way elsewhere, but she quickly spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Could you stay? I mean... if you don’t mind.”

I paused, unsure if I should humor the girl or retreat to the quiet, I had sought. Yet when I looked at her, there was something in her manner that reminded me of Saffron, fragile, in need of protection, utterly ill-suited to the cruel ways of this world. With a slight nod I sat back down, on bench, and she hurried to sit next to me. How unflattering for a future queen.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, the air between us light but unspoken words hanging on the edge of her lips. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't realize the noble world could be so cruel."

I glanced at her sideways. “Prince Thor did not warn you?”

She looked down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “He didn’t have time, considering how he picked me from a crowd.”

Now, that caught my attention. “How do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

Lady Cyan glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then spoke in a lowered tone, “I used to be... a lady of the night.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “Thor was just a regular customer. I never got the chance to see the royal family, so I didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t use his name either, he just called himself Donar.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. This was... extraordinary. “How did you come to be his fiancée?” I asked, genuinely intrigued now.

Lady Cyan sighed. “I was out one morning buying groceries for my mother when a knight seized me and pulled me into a carriage with Thor. That’s when he told me who he really was. He said he wanted me to marry him.”

I blinked, trying to suppress a laugh. “And you thought this was... what? A joke?”

“At first, yes,” she said with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “The next thing I knew, my mother and I were having breakfast with the king and queen.”

Now, this was beyond amusing. I had always known Prince Thor to be impulsive, rumors about him were legendary, but this? This was another level entirely. A peasant marrying into royalty was scandalous enough, but a former courtesan? The whole system was bound to erupt. I could hardly contain my amusement.

Lady Cyan frowned slightly, noticing my reaction. “What’s so funny?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, it’s nothing... except how very on-brand this is for Prince Thor. You should be careful, though. That bit of information? You should keep it to yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

I waved a hand. “Of course not. But be warned, others won’t be so kind. You’d best keep quiet about your past if you want to survive this court.”

Lady Cyan nodded, her expression softening into one of gratitude. “I was just... so grateful to be here. To wear such fine clothing...”

I looked at her more closely. And her ungodly look “Who dressed you for tonight?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Hela had some of her ladies-in-waiting help me,” she replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t let them help you again. They made you look ragged, and it was likely intentional.”

Her face fell. “I had a feeling when everyone started laughing at me... The servants say awful things when they think I’m not listening. That Lady Jane should have been Thor’s bride. They don’t know why he chose me.”

My blood boiled. “Fuck them,” I said without thinking.

Lady Cyan gasped, clearly shocked by my language. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, you need to build your own court. Your own ladies-in-waiting, your own servants,and most importantly your own thick-skin. As long as these current people remain, they will never respect you, and they will always try to make you look the fool.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that...”

I gave her a stern look. “Do you want to be treated like this for the rest of your life?”

She fell silent.

“You’re going to be queen one day. Prince Thor would give you anything you ask for, that I could clearly see, so use that power. Snuggle up to him, get what you need, and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a long time, Lady Cyan. You might as well rule in comfort.”

She nodded slowly; her gaze thoughtful. I could tell she was unsure of herself, but if she had any hope of surviving this world, she would need to learn quickly. And if I had to give her a push in the right direction, so be it.

“Cyan!” A voice cut through the stillness of the garden, deep and unmistakably male.

Both of us turned toward the sound, and soon enough, Prince Loki stepped into view. His presence carried the same shadowy grace as always, but this time, his gaze briefly flickered to me before settling on Cyan.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said smoothly, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer. “I suggest you go calm him before he sends out a search party.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lady Cyan hurriedly stood, her flustered movements betraying her nervousness. I rose to my feet as well, out of courtesy.

“Thank you so much for the advice...” Lady Cyan paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Honey. Honey Duval.” I offered my hand, knowing full well it was improper, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shook it with the casual grace of someone entirely untrained in court etiquette.

“I’m Cyan,” she smiled, her warmth genuine if not misplaced.

“I know” I retort, a smile on my face

I made a mental note: the girl would need to refine such small gestures if she hoped to command any respect in the court. There was more to being a princess than simply having the prince’s affection.

I watched as  she hurried away, her pace quickening as she no doubt rushed to find her fiancé before he acted on Prince Loki’s warning. Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned, ready to find my family, only to realize Prince Loki hadn’t moved. He was still standing near, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I immediately curtsied. “Prince Loki,” I murmured, trying to sound composed as I stood straight again, preparing to make my exit.

But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me cold. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

I froze, the weight of his words pulling me back in place. “Duval,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate, letting the name roll off his tongue as though it were some kind of secret he was savoring. Then he moved toward me, closing the distance until he was standing mere inches from my face.

Prince Loki was an intimidating man, far more dangerous than most cared to admit. I’d heard the stories, of course, of the legendary battles between him and Prince Thor, the ferocity with which they fought their enemies and, at times, each other. And though I prided myself on my resolve, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear. His presence, so dark and calculated, was enough to unsettle even the strongest of wills.

“You are of a house with status,Barons, I believe?” His words were a statement, not a question, as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Prince Loki,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “So, then you should’ve known better than to extend your hand to the future ruler of Asgard.”

I stiffened at the reprimand. I knew I’d made a mistake, but hearing it so coldly from his lips made it sting all the more. He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose... what else could one expect from a falling house?”

His words were a dagger. Before I could stop myself, my spine straightened, and the retort slipped from my lips without a second thought. “Nothing as bad as one would expect from a treacherous prince.”

The moment the words escaped me, regret surged through my veins like ice. I had struck too close to the truth, to the rumors that still clung to his name even after all these years. I knew of Loki’s dark history, how, as a young man, he had once betrayed Asgard by siding with Jotunheim in a fit of jealousy, trying to seize the throne from King Odin and Prince Thor. Though he had redeemed himself by turning around and conquering Jotunheim, earning back the trust of the kingdom, the title of “Treacherous Prince” still lingered in whispers.

Personally, I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s so eager to switch sides.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately began to apologize, my voice rushing out in a panic. “Prince Loki, I didn’t mean-”

He squinted, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but to my surprise, there was amusement as well. His lips curled into a smirk; his expression unreadable. “Bold,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “But foolish. You may Go.”

Then, before I could react, he grabbed me, pulling me roughly against his chest. My heart pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, I have more power than you. And with that power, I can do far more damage.”

He released me with a shove, and I stumbled back, fear and dread gripping my heart. The reality of what I’d just done washed over me like a tidal wave. Loki was not the type of man to forgive easily, and I had just signed the Duval family’s death warrant with my reckless words.

Terrified, I hurried away, my mind racing as I realized just how dire our situation had become. If Loki so wished, he could destroy us with a single utterance, and I had just given him reason to do so.

Several weeks had passed without a single word from the palace. It was strange, the quiet. The Duvals had not received any invitations to events or gatherings, but oddly enough, things seemed to be looking up,at least on the surface. Duke Banner’s interest in Saffron had become more obvious with each passing day. Bouquets of delicate flowers arrived regularly, along with boxes of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. He must have somehow learned of Saffron’s love for such indulgences. While I found his eagerness unsettling, Mother insisted it was nothing to be concerned about, calling it a sign of his devotion.

But I could see the confusion in Saffron’s eyes. She didn’t know how to respond to the Duke’s affections. Her heart was too gentle, too uncertain. She was torn between her own feelings and the expectations placed upon her. I couldn’t blame her,I had my own storm to contend with.

Prince Loki. The memory of our confrontation still hung over me like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding, threatening to break at any moment. I had said nothing to Mother, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable disaster. Confiding in her would only shatter this brief illusion of peace.

That afternoon, Saffron and I were sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of spades, trying to enjoy the mild weather. The gentle breeze was soothing, if only for a moment. But then, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the calm.

Both of us snapped our heads toward the commotion, just in time to see Mother rushing toward us, the head maid trailing closely behind. Her hands waved an envelope above her head, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight.

My stomach lurched. This was it. The reckoning I had feared.

Saffron, always attuned to my unease, clasped my hand under the table, offering silent comfort. She knew everything that happened with Prince Loki. We told each other everything.

Mother reached us, breathless, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Honey!” she exclaimed, waving the envelope as if it were a priceless relic. “You’ve been summoned to the royal palace!”

I froze, my heart pounding. What?

Mother continued, her voice filled with barely contained glee. “You’ve been called to interview as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen!”

The words barely registered. “What?” I whispered, my voice thin and shaky. I glanced at Saffron, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her wide eyes. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest.

But Mother, oblivious to the shock etched on our faces, began reading the letter aloud. The future queen, Cyan, had personally selected me for consideration. Me. Out of all the girls. The words blurred together as my mind drifted back to Loki. Had he said nothing? Was this a game?

Mother’s excited voice pulled me back to the present as she finished reading, her arms suddenly wrapping around Saffron and me in a tight embrace. “This is it! Things are finally looking up!” she squealed, her joy almost tangible. “This is exactly what we needed!”

I remained silent, my thoughts spinning out of control. This invitation, no, this summons,could either be our salvation or the final blow that brought everything crashing down. And somehow, I knew… this wasn’t a coincidence.

I sat across from Lady Cyan in the quiet Receiving Room, the silence hanging heavily between us. She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the edge of her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the moment. I waited, wondering if she would speak first, but when it became apparent she was at a loss, I decided to break the silence.

"Your Highness," I began, keeping my voice measured, "is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Lady Cyan blinked, as though startled by the question. "Oh," she replied softly, her uncertainty palpable. "I... I’m not really sure what I should ask. I requested that the Queen and Princess Hela be present, but they... well, they refused."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and I realized, once again, how out of place she must feel here. The future Queen of Asgard, yet still lost within the complexities of court.

"Would you like me to guide you, Your Highness?" I offered gently, knowing she needed a nudge.

She nodded, looking relieved. "Yes, please."

"Well," I began, "what do you think of me as a candidate so far?"

Lady Cyan straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly more formal. "I like you. I think you would have my back. Even Loki agrees."

“Prince Loki?” I asked 

She nodded “Yes, in fact when I mentioned That I would like to get my own Ladies in Waiting, he suggested you as the first one.”

How Curious.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her directness. "Right.” I chose then to ignore the mention of Prince Loki “So then,Why do you like me, and how do you believe that would benefit you in the court?"

She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter, almost vulnerable. "Since I arrived at the palace, I’ve felt like an outsider. No one truly talks to me, except Thor. The conversation we had in the royal garden…" she trailed off, as if collecting her thoughts. "It felt real, like I could tell you anything. And when you advised me not to spread the truth of my past, I felt... safe. You didn’t judge me, and you kept your word so far. I haven’t heard any whispers of it since. That’s why I feel like I can trust you."

She glanced down at her lap, her tone sincere but unsure, as if she feared I might turn her words against her. There was a certain naivety about her, but it was clear she was trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the court. I folded my hands in my lap and smiled softly.

"So you met me and felt that I could be useful to you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Lady Cyan's eyes widened, shaking her head frantically. "Oh no, I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her flustered reaction. "That’s the system, Your Highness. Everyone in court uses everyone else to further their own agendas. If you are deemed useless, they’ll find a way to cast you aside."

Lady Cyan nodded slowly, absorbing my words like a student eager to learn. She seemed to be coming to terms with the harsh reality of her new life. This wasn’t the world of commoners she once knew; here, survival depended on alliances and strategic moves.

"So," I pressed on, "since you already had a good impression of me during our first meeting, what is it you’re trying to confirm now, in this interview?"

Lady Cyan shifted, clearly embarrassed again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well... I wanted to hire you immediately, but Queen Freya said that was nonsense. She told me I should at least have an interview with you first."

It was clear that Queen Freya expected me to decline her request. After all, who in their right mind would willingly work under a former commoner, especially with my family teetering on the brink of ruin? But the Queen, in all her wisdom and grandeur, had overestimated my penchant for pride and underestimated the deep-rooted vitriol I held for the very system that sought to throw me and my family to the dogs.

I couldn't help but smile at her honesty, and there was something endearing about her candor. It was clear she was out of her depth, but there was potential in her, potential that could be nurtured if handled correctly. I leaned forward, my tone reassuring.

"Then, Your Highness, you have my word. If you choose to have me by your side, I will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this court. But remember, loyalty goes both ways. I will protect you, but I ask for the same in return."

Lady Cyan met my gaze, her expression softening with relief. "I understand, Honey. Thank you."

I nodded, knowing that from this moment forward, I had entered a dangerous alliance. The future Queen would need more than just trust; she would need strength. And if I was to help her navigate the world she had been thrust into, I would have to play this game carefully, for both our sakes.

My first week working under Lady Cyan, I made it clear that I was there to observe. She agreed, a bit relieved, I think. I spent the week silently watching the way the servants treated her, the way the butlers undermined her every word, and how Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, who were temporarily assigned to her, blatantly ignored her.

Lady Cyan mostly ate alone with her mother, and when they did, it was pitiful. They served them meals that even my own family, on the verge of ruin, would refuse. But when she dined with Prince Thor, everything was immaculate, like a magic switch had been flipped. Even Prince Thor’s courtiers, the ones supposed to show respect to the future queen, treated her poorly.

 And then there was the mountain of paperwork they threw at her, expecting her to understand and manage the upkeep of the palace without any guidance. It was clear that she was not only doing her work but the work of Hela’s ladies-in-waiting as well.

I had seen enough.

"Why haven’t you hired the new staff after I told you to?" I asked her one afternoon.

She sighed; exhaustion etched into every feature. "I haven’t had the time," she said.

"Of course you haven’t," I retorted. "You’re buried in work that doesn’t even belong to you."

As I watched her, overwhelmed and far too thin, I was reminded again of Saffron. Someone kind, gentle, and easily taken advantage of. This was more work than I’d intended to take on, but someone needed to help her.

"First things first," I said, taking hold of her wrist gently. "We’re hiring you a personal chef. You’re entirely too thin, and it’s obvious the kitchen staff has no intention of keeping you healthy."

"Will I be able to?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I don’t know. What do your funds look like?"

"Oh, I don’t—"

I didn’t let her finish. I strode over to her desk, pulling out her accounting book. As I read through the pages, it was clear. The funds allocated to Lady Cyan were being skimmed, and heavily. According to the records, she was eating lavish meals, wearing the latest fashions, and buying expensive jewelry. And yet, here she was, sitting in a handdown dress, malnourished and mistreated.

"When was the last time you spent any of the funds given to you?" I asked, holding the book up to her.

Lady Cyan’s face crumpled in confusion. "I didn’t know I was receiving any funds. Prince Thor didn’t tell me."

I shut the book with a sharp thud. "He’s not supposed to. That’s the job of his courtier. His courtier was meant to show you how to manage your paperwork, how your finances work, and how to oversee your responsibilities, both in maintaining the palace and fulfilling your duties to the kingdom."

Cyan blinked, clearly overwhelmed. This explained everything. No wonder she hadn’t hosted any balls or tea parties, and why she was wearing tattered clothing.

"Someone is stealing from you," I said firmly, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. "And I’m willing to bet the accountant knows exactly who."

 I shut her books and tucked them under my arm, turning to Lady Cyan with a calm but firm expression. “Show me where accounting is.”

She perked up immediately. “Oh, okay.” She started to stand, but as soon as she did, I noticed her posture was completely atrocious, slouched shoulders, head bowed. I stopped her with a slight raise of my hand.

“Before we continue, straighten your back, stretch your neck, and hold your head high,” I instructed. Lady Cyan blinked at me but did as I asked. I spent a few moments adjusting her posture, teaching her how to carry herself with dignity. She still moved with a bit of awkwardness, but with practice, she would improve.

As we made our way to the accounting office, I trailed behind her, as any good lady-in-waiting would. When we arrived, Lady Cyan politely asked the receptionist, Miss Elara Merton, if she could meet with Lord Gregor Voss.

Merton barely glanced at us and replied with obvious disdain, “He’s busy.”

I felt my temper flare. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said, stepping past her and bursting into the office. I had no patience left. Lady Cyan was being mistreated at every turn in this castle, and I couldn’t help but think had it been me the castle would have long ago been set ablazed.

There was Lord Voss, in all his disgrace, caught mid-act with a woman who was most certainly not Lady Voss. The woman, mortified, hurriedly gathered her things and bolted from the room.

“What the hell?” Lord Voss spluttered, adjusting his trousers.

“The future Queen of Asgard wishes to speak with you,” I said coolly.

He looked past me and saw Lady Cyan, standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and expectancy.

“I’m busy,” he repeated, sounding more defensive than before.

“Oh, we can see that,” I replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the scene. I couldn’t wait to tell Saffron about this later.

I ushered Lady Cyan into the room as Miss Merton approached, trying to assert some sort of authority. I stepped up to her, meeting her eyes with an intimidating glare that left no room for argument. “Step back,” I said, my tone commanding. Intimidated, she complied, and I shut the door behind us.

I walked up to Lord Voss and fixed him with a stare. “Tell us who has been taking money from Lady Cyan’s funds.”

Voss blinked, taken aback by the direct question, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lady Cyan has been making purchases on her own,” he said with a practiced smoothness. “Just check her accounting book. Her ladies-in-waiting bring in the necessary—"

“So, Hela’s ladies-in-waiting are stealing from Cyan?” I cut in sharply.

“I did not say that,” he stammered. “I was simply—"

“Of course you did,” I interrupted, holding up the accounting book I had taken. “Jewelry, clothing, shoes, and food, purchases made with her funds. Yet, look at her.” I gestured toward Cyan, who stood looking pale and tired, her dress ill-fitting and her frame almost fragile. “She wears none of it, and she’s thin as a pencil. The ladies-in-waiting have been making these purchases for themselves. They are stealing from her.”

“Baroness Duval—” Voss began.

“That’s my mother,” I said, flashing him a cold smile. “Just call me Lady Honey.”

“Right,” Voss muttered, leaning in to whisper, “Lady Honey. Between you and I, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hoarding it all.”

That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough that he could see the fire in my eyes. Cyan gasped softly behind me.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a man,” I hissed. “If you do not tell us who’s been stealing from the future Queen of Asgard, the next person walking through those doors will be the Crowned Prince Thor himself.” His eyes widened in fear, and I pressed further. “Or maybe I should let Lady Voss know exactly what you’ve been up to at work, since we all know who truly runs your household.”

Voss paled and quickly surrendered. “Okay, okay, it is Lady Vivienne, a maid named Kelly, and Lord Cyril Vance.”

“How spineless.” I shoved him back, wiping my hands of his filth. With a gentle voice I turn to Lady Cyan “Let us go.” as I have her walk ahead of me

I opened the door for her, and she walked out with her head held a little higher than before. When we returned to her office,she collapsed into tears, overwhelmed by the realization of how many people had been betraying her.

“Lady Vivienne is one of Princess Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, and Lord Cyril Vance is Thor’s courtier,” she sobbed. “What am I to do now?”

I embraced her gently, offering comfort before I spoke firmly. “You fire them.”

She stops to look at me, as if I’d said something ridiculous “I can’t do that,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Then ask Prince Thor to do it,” I suggested.

“But I—”

“Listen, Lady Cyan,” I interrupted softly but seriously. “You need a completely new court. Not only are they insulting you, but they’re also stealing from you. I understand you don’t want to rattle the cage, but you must do the uncomfortable things now so that you can be comfortable later. You have power now. Use it.”

She paused, considering my words. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered, “Okay.”

For the next several months, Cyan had gone on a thorough firing spree, and anyone she couldn’t directly remove was replaced for personal matters, leaving them slowly edged out. I was with her every step of the way, ensuring that each word she spoke was met with the respect and dignity she deserved.

The first major task was sending Hela back her ladies-in-waiting. Lady Cyan, with newfound confidence, informed Hela that Vivienne had been embezzling money from her books. I made sure to advise her to suggest Hela check her own accounts. It wasn’t long before Lady Vivienne was escorted from the palace in disgrace.

Thor’s reaction to Lord Cyril’s involvement in stealing from Lady Cyan was nothing short of fury. He dismissed Cyril immediately, along with the maid Kelly, their reputations shattered beyond repair. No person of prominence would dare to hire them again.

During these palace changes, I cleverly slipped in a word about the kitchen staff feeding Lady Cyan slop. If anyone should have a personal chef, it was her. Prince Thor did one better, he replaced the entire kitchen staff, ensuring that the finest food was prepared for everyone in the palace. He made it very clear that if anyone was served less than what was expected, they would face the gallows. Since then,Lady Cyan’s figure has filled out, and she looks much healthier, with her own strength returning.

She also found herself a new accountant. Prince Thor and I convinced her not to continue relying on Voss, given his negligence. Instead, I helped her hire a young man named Edric Hale. He seemed sharp, rigid, and incredibly thorough, like someone who wouldn’t let anything slip by unnoticed. And I was right, Edric was so good at his job that he not only fixed inconsistencies within Lady Cyans books but uncovered six more individuals committing fraud under the royal name. It wasn’t long before Voss was removed from his post, and Hale was promoted to Royal Financial Advisor.

Even Prince Thor’s courtier was replaced, as I recommended Sir Alistair Graves during the hiring process.He was tall, unsettling, and mysterious, Alistair's appearance drew questions from Prince Thor and Lady Cyan alike, but Alistair soon proved himself to be an invaluable asset.I was right again.

Surprisingly, Thor and Alistair developed a close bond, despite his eerie demeanor.

After all this, Lady Cyan finally had time to hire her own ladies-in-waiting. To my amusement, Lady Jane and Lady Sharon applied for the position. Needless to say, they weren’t hired. I took personal joy in turning them down during the vetting process. Instead, Lady Cyan appointed Lady Natasha Romanoff and Lady Pepper Potts, both competent and trustworthy. As the wedding drew closer, the palace bustled with preparations, fully ready to receive her as the Crowned Princess of Asgard.

The first time I noticed Queen Freya's distaste for me, it was subtle, a cold glance from across the room as I sat with Lady Cyan during a court gathering. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Surely, a queen had more important matters to concern herself with than a mere lady-in-waiting. But as the weeks passed, it became clear: it wasn’t just a glance,it was a warning.

Every time Lady Cyan made progress, especially with my guidance, Queen Freya's irritation grew more obvious.

I remember standing in the corner of the throne room when Vivienne was escorted out by the guards. Queen Freya had been across the hall, watching. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something, annoyance, perhaps even hatred. I had facilitated that firing, and she knew it.

Later, as I escorted Lady Cyan from the council room, the Queen called out to me, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade.

"Lady Honey," she began, forcing me to turn back. "You've done such a... thorough job cleaning up the mess around the palace." The way she said "thorough" was laced with disdain. "Though, I do wonder, have you left anything for Lady Cyan to do herself?"

I bristled at the remark, but I kept my expression neutral. "Her Highness has made all the decisions. I simply advised her where necessary." I could not allow my mouth to ruin this for me.

The Queen smiled that thin, humorless smile of hers. "Of course. But do be careful. A lady of your... talents should know when to step back. We wouldn’t want to overshadow the future princess, now, would we?"

The words cut deeper than intended. She wasn’t praising me. She was warning me. I was doing too much, and that didn’t sit well with her.

As Lady Cyan continued to gain confidence, Freya’s hostility grew. When Thor replaced the kitchen staff, I could see the Queen’s patience slipping further. I once overheard her speaking to Hela’s remaining ladies-in-waiting about how “some people simply don’t know their place” as I passed through the halls. I had no doubt she was referring to me.

It all came to a head during one of our morning meetings. I was assisting Cyan with the latest preparations for her upcoming wedding, ensuring all the details were perfect, when Queen Freya entered the room, her presence like a sudden frost in the air.

"Lady Honey," she addressed me without looking directly at Cyan. "It seems you’ve become quite indispensable. How fortunate for Lady Cyan."

I curtsied, though my stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

"You've certainly made an impression," she continued, her voice sharp, "but one wonders if you've made the right kind."

There was no mistake in her meaning. I had been far too effective in my role, far too supportive of Cyan. Queen Freya wasn’t just irritated anymore, she was furious.

Unfortunately, during all of this, I had to deal with Prince Loki breathing down my neck. He insisted on my company far too often, even intruding on Lady Cyan’s morning teas, meant for us to go over her itinerary. He was relentless.

One morning, after Loki had finally left, opting to go train I couldn’t hold back. “That man is infuriating,” I muttered, still editing the itinerary.

“You mean Prince Loki of Asgard?” Lady Romanoff asked with a smirk.

“Who else?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I think it’s sweet that he’s found interest in you,” Lady Potts chimed in, her words slightly tentative. “And, well, at least you’d know your future is secure if you married him.” She was prone to putting her foot in her mouth without realizing it.

I gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “Did you manage to find a venue for the next royal tea party?”

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly handing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of available venues for the date we need. I’ve marked the ones that would be most appropriate.”

Despite her occasional blunders, Potts was excellent at her job. I could always count on her efficiency.

With new ladies-in-waiting and the right servants, Lady Cyan was finally surrounded by a supportive circle. Her transformation was undeniable, and I was proud to have played a role in it.

Lady Cyan’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “Would it be so wrong to consider Prince Loki?”

I nearly scoffed. “If I were interested, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” she suggested, her large doe eyes gazing at me earnestly.

I sighed. I was ready to dismiss the notion entirely, but those eyes… “I’ll think about it,” I conceded, though the thought made me cringe inwardly.

“That’s all I ask,” Cyan said with a sweet smile.

I shook my head, standing up. “I’ll be back. I need to confirm a few numbers with Edric.” I made my way to the door, hearing the giggles of the other ladies as I left the room.

It took a tremendous amount of work, but for the first time, I felt I had done right by Lady Cyan. She had a proper support system now, and she was ready to step into her role as Crowned Princess of Asgard.

As I walked down the palace halls toward accounting, my footsteps slowed as I passed the training grounds. There, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was Prince Loki, sparring with one of the knights. His lean, muscular form moved with precision, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself, yes, Prince Loki was a very handsome man. But he was oh so arrogant.

Not to mention, something about him made me uncomfortable, a discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. It was the same feeling I got around Duke Bruce and, on occasion, even Prince Thor. Maybe it had something to do with their high positions of power or the way they carried themselves with an air of control. Whatever it was, I had no interest in exploring it further.

Before I could turn away, I caught Loki’s eye. His gaze locked onto mine, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he waved. My heart skipped a beat, but not from admiration, it was more like a warning bell. I quickly dispersed, pretending not to notice, and rushed down the corridor toward Lord Hale’s office.

After finishing my business with Lord Hale, I made my way back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, feeling a sense of relief that the conversation had gone smoothly. But midway through my return, I found myself stopped by none other than Loki himself.

“May I help you, Prince Loki?” I asked stiffly, my posture rigid as I forced myself to remain composed.

A playful grin adorned his face, and his tone was laced with flirtation. “Oh, nothing in particular, just wanting to chat with the pretty girl who’s managed to turn the palace upside down.”

I straightened my spine. “You mean right side up,” I corrected coolly.

Prince Loki chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. “Well, regardless. Tonight, I’m headed to a gathering. A close friend of mine is planning to ask for a woman’s hand in marriage. Quite the event.And I was wondering if you’d like to attend” he pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “With me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend,” I replied curtly. “I have a gathering of my own tonight.”

He chuckled again,as if he had some kind of secret,  clearly entertained by my formality. “Well, shoot. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together sometime.”

I forced a polite smile. “Of course.” I curtsied briefly, making it clear the conversation was over, and headed back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, the unsettling feeling from earlier creeping back into my chest.

“Do you want me to say something?” I’d asked her multiple times, my voice filled with the urge to protect her, but she always refused, her shy voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she’d insist, and despite my frustration, I respected her decision. So tonight, as always, I played the role of silent protector, standing close to her, watching her every move, and his.

The party was filled with the usual noble chatter and laughter, but I found no comfort in it. Saffron’s uneasy smile, her fidgeting hands, and Duke Bruce’s ever-watchful eyes were the only things I could focus on.

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt someone brush close behind me, their breath warm against my ear. “Hello, Honey.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.Prince Loki. Of course. His voice carried that teasing edge, filled with amusement and arrogance, as if this was all a game to him.

I glanced over my shoulder, my irritation barely concealed. “Are you following me, Prince Loki?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on me as though he found the situation endlessly entertaining. “Following you? No, darling, I’m here for a special moment.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. “And what moment might that be?” I asked, my words clipped.

His smirk widened as he casually nodded toward the center of the room. “That one,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

I followed his gaze and froze. My heart sank as I saw Duke Bruce Banner on one knee, proposing to Saffron in front of the entire room. She stood there, pale and trembling, but with all eyes on her, there was no way out. Her lips moved in slow motion, forming the dreaded word. “Yes.”

Applause filled the room as the crowd celebrated the engagement, toasting to their future. Saffron’s eyes darted toward me, wide with panic, but all I could do was stare, powerless to stop what was happening.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement,” he said, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems Duke Banner will soon be family.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight with barely concealed rage. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Bruce is a close friend of mine. He’s been planning this for some time.”

I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my composure as I watched Saffron, my heart aching for her. Loki’s smug smile felt like salt in the wound. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Honey,” he added, his tone mocking. “I’m sure there will be more surprises to come.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, helpless as my sister’s fate was sealed before my eyes.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress and unanswered questions. Saffron’s engagement to Duke Banner weighed heavily on my mind, though she insisted everything was fine. I knew better. Every night she would come to me, her face tight with worry, sharing how uncomfortable everything made her feel. I’d offered her an out, told her we could make a formal request to call off the engagement, but she refused. She was too afraid of disappointing our parents, especially our mother.

“Everything will be fine,” she’d said with that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes. It made me furious, but I couldn’t force her hand. All I could do was stand by her, ready to step in if things went too far.

And then there was Lady Cyan. Rumors had spread quickly about her being ill, though I had my doubts. Something about it felt... off. The palace was rife with gossip, and yet Prince Thor, always the picture of calm, didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he appeared more focused than ever.

My attempts to see her had been blocked at every turn. Alistair, ever the watchful guard, was always there, standing between me and the answers I sought. A time where I’d tried to visit her, I was met with him stepping out of her chambers just as I approached. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Lady Cyan is resting,” he’d said, his tone polite but firm. His cold, calculating eyes met mine without so much as a flicker of guilt. I couldn’t stand how easily he lied to my face. "She needs her privacy."

“She’s been resting for weeks,” I shot back, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Surely she could spare a moment?”

Alistair didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Her health is delicate. If you truly care for her well-being, you'll give her time.”

His words were a steel wall, and I had no choice but to retreat, fuming. But I didn’t stop trying. Each day, I attempted to get close, whether it was checking in through the maids or attempting another visit myself,but Alistair was always there, standing guard like some immovable sentry.

Pepper and Natasha told me to let it go, that if Prince Thor said she was unwell, it was best to leave it at that. But I couldn’t. Something in my gut told me that there was more to it. And as the days passed, that gnawing suspicion only grew stronger.

It didn’t help that Loki seemed intent on feeding into my doubts, though his information came in small, tantalizing pieces. Each time we crossed paths, he would drop a hint, a little morsel of knowledge that made my curiosity burn brighter. He never gave me the full picture, just enough to keep me coming back for more.

I had just finished reviewing some paperwork with Edric when I stepped out into the hallway. Prince Loki was there, casually leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His eyes immediately found mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Lady Honey,” he greeted, his tone smooth. “Busy day?”

“Always,” I muttered, not in the mood for small talk. “Do you need something?”

He pushed off the wall, sauntering over to me, his presence impossible to ignore. “Not at all. Just curious how Lady Cyan is faring.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, hinting at something beneath the surface.

I stiffened, trying to mask my surprise. “She’s unwell, or so I’ve been told,” I replied carefully, eyeing him. “You would know that if you bothered to ask.”

Prince Loki chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to grab my chin. “Oh, I ask plenty of questions, my dear. Just not to the right people, apparently.” His touch lingered longer than necessary, and before I could say anything, he stepped back with a knowing smile. “Keep an eye on her,” he added, his tone soft but carrying weight.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Days had passed, and Prince Loki’s cryptic comments continued to nag at me. I was heading down the palace corridor, lost in thought, when I felt a sudden arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace. Prince Loki again.

“You always seem so tense, Lady Honey,” he teased, his voice close to my ear. “What has you so worked up this time?”

I tried to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place, his warmth both irritating and oddly comforting. “Prince Loki, I have work to do,” I grumbled. “This isn’t the time.”

He laughed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go. “Is it ever? You’re always working, always investigating. I wonder... what would you do if you found something you weren’t supposed to?”

I stilled at his words, the weight of them sinking in. He knew something. “What are you implying?”

He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say... not everyone in the palace is who they seem. Keep digging, and you might be surprised at what you find.”

I pulled away from him, trying to regain my composure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful,” he replied with a wink before walking off, leaving me even more frustrated than before.

I was pouring over documents late one evening when Prince Loki appeared out of nowhere, his presence once again unsettling but familiar. He stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my back as he leaned in.

“Still working, I see,” he murmured. “Do you ever rest?”

I tensed at the closeness, but his hand was gentle, not imposing. “Someone has to do the work around here,” I replied dryly, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he mused, his fingers lightly tracing down my spine before lifting away. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re just looking for something you shouldn’t be finding.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you ever going to just tell me what you know, or are you going to keep playing these games?”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that, my dear? Sometimes, the best discoveries are made through patience... and persistence.”

Before I could respond, he was gone again, leaving only the faint warmth where his hand had been. 

I stormed through the palace halls, my frustration building with every step. This was the fourth time I’d been turned away from seeing Lady Cyan, and I wasn’t about to let Alistair dismiss me again. My pulse quickened as I approached her chambers, my mind already preparing for a confrontation.

As soon as I reached the door, there he was, Alistair, standing outside with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for me. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Move aside,” I said sharply, not caring how harsh I sounded. “I’m seeing Lady Cyan whether you like it or not.”

Alistair didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed and straightened, blocking the entrance with his large frame. “Young One,” he began in that infuriatingly calm voice, “how many times must we go through this? Lady Cyan is ill, and Prince Thor is taking excellent care of her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “Every time I’ve tried to see her, it’s been the same excuse. Do you think I’m some fool who will just let it go because you keep repeating the same thing? Lady Cyan hasn’t been seen for days!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And she won’t be seen until she’s recovered. Now, go back to your duties.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. “I’m not a child, Alistair! Don’t treat me like one just because you don’t have the decency to tell me what’s actually going on. You think I’m blind to what’s happening?”

Alistair stared at me, unfazed by my outburst. Then, to my utter fury, he reached out and gently patted me on the head, as if I were some bothersome child. “Young One,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone, “you should focus on your own work and let Prince Thor handle LadCyan. You’re only going to exhaust yourself meddling in things you don’t understand.”

I slapped his hand away, my blood boiling at the insult. “You can’t keep me away from her forever, Alistair.”

He merely shrugged, unfazed. “Perhaps not, but for now, you should go. I won’t tell you again.”

My teeth ground together, but I knew I couldn’t push him further without making a scene. I had no choice but to turn around and leave, but the fire of frustration burned deep in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this go, not by a long shot.

As I walked away, I could still feel Alistair’s patronizing pat on my head, and it only fueled my determination. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what.

The royal wedding was only a few days away, and I’d reached my breaking point. The palace had become a den of whispers and secrets, and it seemed that the closer we got to the wedding, the more the air thickened with lies. I had tried everything, pushing past Alistair, confronting Prince Thor’s other courtiers, even pleading with Lady Natasha and Lady Pepper to help me get to LadyCyan. But all paths led to closed doors.

And Prince Loki  with his cryptic words, his teasing smiles, and half-baked hints. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed through the palace halls, not caring who saw me. My feet led me to the Royal Garden, where I knew he’d be. He always found some quiet corner to lounge in, away from the royal duties he couldn’t be bothered with. Sure enough, there he was, seated by the fountain, leaning back like a man without a care in the world. He hadn’t seen me yet, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap.

“Prince Loki!” I hissed, my voice cutting through the peaceful evening air. His eyes snapped open, a smirk already curling his lips as he straightened, watching me approach.

“Well, well, Lady Honey. I was wondering when you’d come seeking my company,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. He pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What brings you to me so... heatedly?”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me what’s going on with Lady Cyan.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few slow steps toward me. “And what makes you think I’ll just give you the answers you seek?”

“Because you know something!” I shouted, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been dropping hints for weeks, playing with me like a cat with a mouse, and I’m done! I need to know what’s happening to her!”

Prince Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my outburst. He circled me slowly, as if appraising me. “Oh, my dear Lady Honey, I do know many things. But nothing comes for free in this world.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want?”

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “A kiss.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“A kiss,” he repeated, his voice low and velvety. “Give me one, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I stared at him, stunned. This was a new game. A dangerous one. “You’re joking.”

His eyes darkened, and the smirk on his face faded slightly, replaced with something more... possessive. “I never, Lady Honey.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. A kiss? For information? It felt wrong. But I had to know. I needed to understand what was happening, why Cyan had suddenly vanished behind locked doors, why everyone was pretending everything was fine.

With reluctance weighing heavily on me, I nodded. “Fine.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more victorious. Before I could even prepare myself, he stepped forward, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. His grip was firm, and the heat of his body was overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate , his lips crashed down on mine, strong and possessive, swallowing my breath. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, and claiming. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me even closer, while his other hand gripped my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t relent. His fingers dug into my waist, his body pressing me tightly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His lips moved with a fierceness that stole the air from my lungs, and when I tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding me in place.

The kiss grew rougher, more demanding. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my thigh. He groped me as if I were his to take, his hold possessive, his body commanding.

My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was paralyzed. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and something else , something I didn’t want to name. His lips moved over mine, devouring me, until I was left breathless, gasping against him.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, my knees weak. I could hardly catch my breath as I stared up at him, my lips swollen, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and hungry, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Lady Honey,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

I tried to steady my breathing, still reeling from the kiss. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Loki didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still firmly gripping my waist. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against mine in an almost affectionate manner, a contrast to the possessive way he had kissed me moments earlier.

He pressed his lips softly to my forehead, lingering for a moment as his breath fanned over my skin. “Thor has been spending a lot of time with Cyan,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Alone. Uninterrupted. But she’s not ill. Not at all.”

His hand slid lower, caressing my side as he spoke, his lips brushing against my hair. “They’ve been keeping her in her chambers, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Loki’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Because she’s trapped, just like you, little honeybee. Thor has no intention of letting her go.”

I stared at him, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach.

The day after my tense encounter with Loki, I finally managed to see Lady Cyan. She was glowing, radiant even, but her expression, her eyes, told a different story. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I rushed forward and embraced her tightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice low, laced with concern.

Pepper and Natasha, standing nearby with knowing smiles, seemed to think my worry was misplaced. “Honey, had been worried sick about you,” Natasha said, her tone light, almost dismissive of the tension that clung to me. It was as if they were brushing off the entire ordeal.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cyan answered, but her eyes,they were haunted. Despite her soft smile, there was a sadness there that pulled at my chest.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. Something was wrong, and as the days leading up to the wedding crept by, I tried to coax her into talking. She remained tight-lipped, her melancholy growing more apparent, but she wouldn’t say a word.

Prince Loki, who had been dropping hints and playing his games, was nowhere to be found during this time. It should have unsettled me, but I was too focused on Lady Cyan to care.

Then, the day of the royal wedding arrived. It was the grandest affair Asgard had ever seen, extravagant, dazzling, and utterly flawless in its execution. Everyone was there, dressed to the nines, and the entire kingdom celebrated the union of Crown Prince Thor and Princess Cyan.

But then, during the reception, Princess Cyan disappeared.

I knew where to find her.

I followed my instincts, weaving my way through the palace grounds until I reached the Royal Forest. There, in the center of the garden, was a bench where she sat, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Princess Cyan?” I whispered as I approached. She looked up at me, her eyes red, streaked with tears.

Without a word, I sat beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, stroking her hair as she cried.This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Or so I’ve heard.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she extended her hand. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing me her wedding ring.

I frowned. “It’s your wedding ring, of course.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. “No, Honey, it’s a Vowthorn.”

Confusion filled me as I studied the ring more closely. My blood ran cold as I saw it—tiny thorns lining the underside, almost imperceptible unless you looked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again, and before I could stop her, she tugged at the ring. To my horror, pieces of her skin began to tear as she tried to remove it. Blood welled at the edges, and I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “Princess Cyan, stop!” I cried, my heart pounding.

“I can never take it off,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I’m bound to him, Honey. Forever.”

My eyes widened as I stared at her bloody finger, my stomach churning with revulsion. The thorns had sunk into her flesh, marking her, chaining her to Prince Thor in a way far crueler than I could have imagined.

“Princess Cyan.”

Alistair’s voice broke through the moment, his presence looming as he stepped out from the shadows of the trees. “Your husband is looking for you,” he said calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Princess Cyan wiped her eyes, standing slowly as she gave me one last, heart-wrenching hug. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

I held her tightly for a moment before releasing her, watching helplessly as she walked toward Alistair. He smiled, cold, knowing, and I could only stand there, frozen, as he gently escorted her back to the party.

I felt my heart twist, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Do you understand now?”

Prince Loki had emerged from the shadows, lurking like the serpent he always was. I didn’t bother looking at him, my gaze still fixed on the spot where Cyan had disappeared, her broken form haunting my thoughts.

If I were being honest, I didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But there was one thing I was almost certain of.

“He’s harming her,” I said aloud, unable to shake the memory of her fear, the wedding ring that tore into her skin when she dared to remove it. “But why? I thought he loved her.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest. It grated on my nerves, and I finally turned to stare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, his smirk both infuriating and dangerous. “Hardly harming her,” he corrected, his tone dripping with amusement. “There may be a bit of pain involved, yes... but the pleasure, from what I’ve heard, is immaculate.” His voice deepens

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. “What in gods’ name are you babbling about, Loki?”

He chuckled darkly, as if I were some naïve child. “Thor is playing a different game, Honey. One where control is disguised as love, and desire is wrapped in thorns. You see, your dear crowned prince has no intention of letting his bride go. Not ever.”

My stomach twisted. "That doesn't explain the ring. The pain."

Prince Loki's gaze softened, almost mockingly. “Ah, but pain and pleasure often intertwine. Thor’s made sure she feels both, he wants her to be bound to him in every way. The ring, the restrictions, they serve a purpose beyond mere possession. It’s a reminder. That no matter how much she may try to escape, she’ll always come back to him.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising in me like a tide. "You're saying he's... manipulating her into staying?"

"Isn't that what marriage often is?" Loki raised an eyebrow, his voice deceptively light. He moved closer, until the heat of his body was almost touching mine. "But don’t think of it as cruelty. In Thor’s eyes, it’s love. Just a... particular kind."

I felt sick. "And you? Do you condone it?"

Prince Loki leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t condone or condemn. I observe. And I act when it suits me.” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "As I’ve been observing you."

A shiver ran down my spine. His presence, his words, it was all too much. I stepped back, trying to put distance between us, but Loki only smirked, as if he enjoyed seeing me unsettled.

He gestured toward the path Princess Cyan and Alistair had taken. “If you really want to know what’s happening, you’re asking the wrong questions. Thor loves her, yes, but his love is one that consumes, one that binds. Just like the ring on her finger.” His eyes gleamed. "The real question is, how far will he go to keep her?"

Before I could even think of leaving,Prince Loki’s slender fingers grab around my neck, his grip deceptively strong. He yanked me closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my stomach churn with both fear and an unexpected flicker of something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Now, then,” Loki whispered in a voice as smooth as velvet, his lips barely brushing my ear. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Let go of me!” I demanded, my voice shaking but defiant as I pushed against his chest, trying to create distance. But it was no use, he barely moves, his frame lean yet unyielding as if carved from stone.

“Now, now, little Honey,” he purred, his tone dripping with a sick sort of amusement. “You’ve been so curious about what’s happening to sweet Cyan... I think it’s only fair I show you ”

His lips descended on mine with a force that took my breath away. I gasped, my body instinctively tensing at the sudden invasion. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation, his kiss demanding, harsh, and unforgiving.

My hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but it was futile. Loki was everywhere. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as though he intended to merge us into one being. His other hand roamed, sliding down my back, groping and kneading as if he were staking his claim.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and I could feel his fingers curling into the fabric of my gown, tugging me impossibly closer. His lips moved against mine, rough and unrelenting, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees buckle.

"L-Loki—" I tried to speak, to push him away, but my voice was swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his hand trailing lower, grabbing my hip and squeezing with enough force to make me gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing mine in a cruel mockery of tenderness. "You’ve wanted this, Honey. Don’t pretend otherwise."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine, stealing my breath once more. His hands slid down to my backside, gripping and pulling me against him in a way that left no space between us. I could feel every inch of him, his body pressed tightly to mine as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.

His lips left mine only to trail down the side of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I whimpered as he nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh just enough to send a bolt of heat through me.

"You’re mine now," he growled against my skin, his voice low and possessive. "Don’t think for a second you can escape me."

His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, and the dip of my back. His touch was rough, insistent, as though he was marking me with every stroke of his fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear, and confusion

I've never done anything like this before, I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. For the first time in my life, I feared what would happened next.

Loki's grip tightened, his hands digging into my flesh as if daring me to try and escape. But there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made me want to run and hide. His thumb traced the line of my jaw as he smirked down at me, his lips swollen from the kiss.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My head smacked against the cold earth, a sharp pain shooting through my skull as the world spun for a moment.

Using my confusion as an opportunity, Loki climbed on top of me, forcibly lifting my skirts and ripping apart my undergarments.

“Wait” I called out “Loki! Please! No!” my pleas falling on deaf ears as I heard and felt him shuffle about.

I tried to get up, but this only caused Loki to grab my neck once more, shoving my head back into the ground. The pressure on my neck causing me to still.

All at once, I feel a searing pain in my nether regions, and Loki growls with what I can only assume is pleasure. I begin digging my nails into his arm and dragging them down. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

The anguish squeezing every bit of breath I had in my body.

He takes one look at my face, at the agony and discomfort he was causing, and he laughed loudly.

“You are a virgin?” he asks, shock laced into his voice.

I swallow, whimpers escape me as I try to breathe through the torment.

“And you worry about the whore?”

He begins moving his body against mine the pain sharp, and persistent, a deep, stretching discomfort catching me off guard. Distress overtaking me as tears fell down my face. It felt as if a fresh wound had been torn open, and he was mercilessly digging into it, over and over, each movement sending waves of torment through me.

A pressure that started small but grew with every motion, my muscles tensing instinctively. It wasn’t just the physical sting; there was an emotional weight behind it too. A feeling of vulnerability, of crossing a threshold I could never return from. It was unbearable, and far from pleasant, a blend of confusion and distress mixed with the ache.

With every grunt and growl Loki worked to steal away my innocence. I became tired, my arms dropped to my side as I allowed him what he wanted. I still cried to myself wondering when this would be over.

He removed his hand from my neck, planting both firmly on to the ground as he worked to move faster. Finally, just when I felt that I could take no more he lets out a final roar pushing himself as deep as he could inside me, causing me to cry out in pain,before collapsing on my worn body.

"See?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "I told you, Honey. You’re mine."

I stared up at him, panting, my mind still spinning from the events that occurred.

He stood, fixing himself before leaving me on the ground with a chuckle.

I had never felt so ashamed, to allow something so awful to happen to me. I move into a fetal position, wondering where I went wrong.

Afterwards when Prince Loki stood up and fixed his garments I chose to lay on the ground for what felt like hours, my body aching, my mind swirling in the haze of disbelief. Used, humiliated, and utterly broken, I could hardly muster the strength to move. The cool earth beneath me felt foreign, much like the shell of my own body. I wanted to scream, to cry, but the exhaustion and shame anchored me to the ground.

Eventually, reality clawed its way back in. I still had to go home. As battered as I was, I couldn’t allow myself to be found like this. I still had my family’s dignity to uphold, fragile though it was. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the vile memories of what had just happened. Loki's touch lingered on my skin, searing like a brand I’d never erase. But I had to get up. I had no choice.

With trembling arms, I pushed myself off the cold ground. Every movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through my body. My dress was filthy, covered in dirt and torn in places. My hair, usually so neatly kept, hung in tangled clumps around my face. I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears had long since dried. I felt like a ghost of the woman I was when I arrived.

My legs shook as I took one step, then another. My body protested, but I bit back the groan of agony and pressed on. I couldn’t afford to be found here. Not like this.

It was a miracle no one had come across me. The palace grounds had plenty of hidden corners, but in this state, I felt exposed, vulnerable. With every faltering step, I felt the weight of what had been stolen from me. I was no longer Honey Duval, the thorny, snarky daughter of a struggling Baroness. I had become something else entirely.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the palace. There were still people milling about, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that raged inside me. I kept my head low, pulling my ruined dress around me to hide the worst of the damage. I prayed that no one would take a second look, that no one would notice the way I limped toward the line of carriages.

I spotted an empty one, its driver standing idly by. I approached him as steadily as I could, my voice a ragged whisper as I asked, “Take me home.”

The driver, with barely a glance, helped me inside, and I sank into the seat, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. The door shut, and with the soft lurch of the carriage, I felt myself collapse inward.

I managed to stumble my way through the door without a soul in sight. The house was still and quiet, no sign of my family. Of course, they were all still at the wedding. My parents, Saffron, even Bruce, none of them would have noticed I was missing yet. That gave me some relief, though it was fleeting.

The servants had long retired to their quarters for the night. There was no one to see me in this state, no judgmental eyes to pry at my disheveled hair and filthy gown. I was grateful for the emptiness of the estate.

I moved quietly through the halls, each step painful, my body still aching from the night’s cruelty. When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it and letting out a ragged breath. My legs gave out from under me, and I slid to the floor, my dress pooling around me in a tattered mess.

I could still feel Loki’s hands on me, the weight of his body, his mocking smile as he took everything I had left. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise.

I was falling apart.

With shaking hands, I dragged myself to the mirror, catching sight of the wreck I had become. My eyes hollow, my hair tangled and dirty, my dress in ruins. I could barely recognize myself.

I stripped off my ruined dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Every inch of my body ached, bruises I hadn’t noticed earlier now flaring with every movement. My mind was clouded with the horrors of what had transpired, but I knew one thing,I needed to wash it all away.

The bathwater was scalding as I stepped in, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the heat, letting it burn my skin, hoping it could sear away the filth that clung to me. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder than I ever had before. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of his hands, his breath on my neck, the unbearable weight of him.

Loki’s sins clung to me like a second skin, and no amount of scrubbing could make them disappear.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time I couldn’t stop them. They fell silently, mixing with the water, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let this break me—not yet. I had to keep going. I had to find a way to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, I dragged myself out of the tub, my skin tender and sore. I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I dressed quickly, slipping into a nightgown, my body trembling with every movement. Each bruise, each ache, was a reminder of what had happened, of what I had endured.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheets around me as tightly as I could. I wanted to disappear, to become invisible, but the memories wouldn’t let me. They played over and over in my mind, tormenting me, reminding me that I was no longer the person I had been just hours before.

As the night deepened, I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, my body too heavy to move, my mind too shattered to rest.

The morning after the... incident, I went to work, doing my best to avoid Loki like the plague. Thankfully, he wasn't lurking anywhere near me, but my focus stayed on my work, burying myself in it to ignore the memory of last night.

Princess Cyan was finally available today, but something was off. She was quieter than usual, almost distant, her glow subdued. I glanced around the room, noticing Natasha and Pepper were unusually silent too. The whole room felt heavy, but I was too preoccupied with my work to dwell on it. There were more pressing things to address,or so I thought.

Queen Freya had summoned me.

When the notice arrived, I paused, the paper trembling in my hands. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I kept my composure as I made my way to the Queen’s receiving room. What could she possibly want? Had something else gone wrong?

The air in Queen Freya’s receiving room was as cold and stiff as the Queen herself. I stood quietly, waiting for her to get to the point of summoning me here. She'd been polite enough, making small talk about the weather and my family’s well-being, but her eyes never softened. Not for a moment.

It wasn’t long before she finally sat back in her chair and sighed, an air of finality in her voice. "Honey, you’ve done quite a remarkable job assisting... Princess Cyan." The way she said "Princess" made it sound like an insult rather than a title. "But I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

I blinked, completely thrown. "Your Majesty, may I ask what I’ve done wrong?"

She folded her hands and looked at me with the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "It’s not about wrongdoing, per se. But your absence on the night of the wedding was entirely unprofessional. We cannot risk something like that happening again. What if Princess Cyan needed you? You were nowhere to be found."

My heart raced. That night… my time spent with PrincesCyan had been brief before I stumbled upon her secret. I knew better than to mention it. "Your Majesty, I—"

"There’s no need for explanations, dear," she cut me off sharply. "I am well aware that you have been rather... vocal in your support for Princess Cyan. Too vocal, perhaps."

There it was. The truth. Queen Freya’s gaze flickered, revealing the venom she had been holding back. It wasn’t about my absence or my professionalism. This had nothing to do with any potential failure on my part.

"Your service to her has been... commendable," she continued, her tone laced with condescension. "But it’s not what is needed at court. We must think of the future of Asgard, and Princess Cyan’s role. You... would do better to think of your own future outside these palace walls."

I stood there, stunned into silence.

"There are no second chances in court, Honey. You must understand that. You’re dismissed."

It hit me like a blow. All my work, all my effort to support Princess Cyan, to make sure she was respected, treated as she should be, would be undone by a queen who saw her as a blemish. And I was simply collateral.

I gathered myself, curtsying. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As I walked out of the receiving room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the power Queen Freya wielded. This wasn’t about professionalism or duty. This was about control.

Mother’s eyes blazed with fury, the air between us crackling with her frustration. I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, trying to steady my breathing, but the storm in her gaze only grew.

"What could you have possibly done?" she spat, pacing in front of me like a lioness ready to strike. "Did you offend someone again? Oh, did you open your big mouth to the wrong person this time?"

I flinched at her words, though I knew better than to respond too quickly. I kept my head down, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the rug beneath my feet, as if I could disappear into the floor. Her accusations, though harsh, were nothing new.

She stopped pacing, turning to me with that piercing look that always left me feeling smaller than I was. "Speak, Honey. What have you done? You must have done something, or you wouldn’t have been fired as Princess Cyan’s lady-in-waiting! So what was it?"

I stayed silent, my throat tight with the truth I couldn’t say. She wouldn’t understand, not now, not ever. And even if I told her everything, how would I explain Loki?

Her voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and biting. "Answer me!" she demanded. "Do you know what you’ve caused? To be dismissed from court like some common servant, disgraceful! You’ve brought shame upon this family."

I swallowed, the words heavy on my tongue, but none of them would make a difference. My mother was looking for someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.

Her gaze darkened, filled with suspicion. “So you’ve nothing to say? No defense for yourself?”

I shook my head. "No, Mother. Nothing."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down as if searching for some clue, some evidence of the disgrace I’d caused.

Her lips curled into a sneer

It was another day of being reprimanded by her. But this time, it stung more than usual. Saffron wasn’t here to soften the blow, to offer that silent comfort only a sister could. No, she was off with Bruce’s mother, going over preparations for her own wedding, blissfully unaware of the disaster that had become my life.

I stood there, feeling the weight of my mother’s words, the shame and frustration building up like a dam about to break. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back. Could I even tell her what had really happened? Could I tell her about Loki, about the things that I didn’t even want to think about, let alone speak aloud?

"Answer me, Honey!" my mother snapped, her impatience rising.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I rushed past her, ignoring the startled look on her face. I needed to get away, to hide. I fled to my room, slamming the door behind me as the tears finally broke free.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to hear anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. This life, this shame, this pain,I couldn’t bear it.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, wishing for everything to just disappear.

Weeks had passed, and I was growing weaker with each day. 

I stayed silent. Lying in bed, withering away, my body betraying me as much as my mind. What could I possibly say? What could my family do if I did tell them? Loki was the Prince of Asgard, untouchable by anyone in our position. And with Saffron dealing with her own issues with the Duke, I couldn’t add more burden to the family.

From what I knew, Saffron wanted to delay the wedding—push it back a year or two, give them time to get to know each other better. But The Duke refused, insisting that he could hardly wait the few days left until they were to be married. The fear in Saffron’s eyes was clear as day. She was terrified, but with me having been fired from the palace, she felt like she had no other choice. Bruce was our only hope of pulling the Duvals out of the pit of "nonexistence," as my mother had begun to call it.

I tried to tell Saffron that she always had a choice, that there was another way, but she wouldn’t listen. The weight of saving the family seemed to matter more to her than saving herself.

We were walking through the Duval garden when I could feel my body rebelling again. Saffron had convinced me that fresh air might do me good, that perhaps I was simply exhausted from being cooped up for so long. But I felt nauseous, my head swimming. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned over, vomiting into the bushes, and before I knew it, everything went black.

When I woke, I was surrounded by my family. Saffron, my father, and my mother, along with a doctor who was wiping his hands clean on a cloth. My mother was hovering over me, panicked, her voice shrill as she called my name. My father stood by, trying to calm her down, while Saffron sat silently at the edge of the bed, her face pale.

"She's awake," my father sighed in relief.

I blinked, trying to shake the fog from my mind. "What happened?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You've fainted, Lady Honey, but you're alright now. However, there’s something else... You’re with child.”

The words hit me like a boulder.

"That’s impossible," I muttered, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. The memory of Loki’s hands on me flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist.

"I think you know how this happened," the doctor said, his tone professional but laced with an understanding that made the room feel even heavier.

Silence fell, and the air grew thick with tension. My mother was the first to break it, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Who is the father? Who have you been with?" Her words came sharp and fast, like a blade cutting through me.

I said nothing. What could I say? How could I explain something I barely had the strength to acknowledge myself?

My father quietly ushered the doctor out of the room, but Saffron remained, her face frozen in shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

My mother’s voice rose again, frantic now. "Who is the father, Honey? Answer me!" Her hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, but still, I stayed silent.

I couldn’t bring myself to utter Loki’s name. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—I’ll..." My mother’s voice cracked, her eyes wild as she searched for something that might break me. She straightened, her face flushed with frustration. "I’ll send you to your Aunt Gertrude."

I blinked, the words settling in the air like an empty threat. Aunt Gertrude. As a child, her name had been synonymous with punishment. The strange spinster, cast aside by the family for reasons never fully explained to me and my sister. I used to shudder at the mere mention of her name, but now... now, the thought of being sent to her estate didn’t stir the same fear it once did.

In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having a true reason to fear Aunt Gertrude. She was an outcast, yes. Blamed for the Duvals’ declining status in society. But what had she really done? No one had ever told me.

Maybe it was because she was different, unconventional, and refused to play the endless games of high society. Or maybe it was because she didn’t fit into the mold my mother had set for the family.

And now, I was beginning to realize... I might not either.

I was much too tired to fight, to resist the weight of my mother’s constant reproach. My head ached, and the room spun slightly as I forced myself to sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. Her threat hung in the air between us, but the words that escaped me were softer than I intended, drained of their sting.

"Then send me," I said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t care anymore."

She recoiled as if I’d struck her. "How dare you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "After all we’ve done for you, after everything our family has sacrificed, this is how you repay us?"

I turned my head, gazing out of the window as she raged. My chest felt hollow, my heart heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, perhaps I cared too much, but what could I do?

She stood abruptly, the anger still palpable in the air between us. "You’ll leave for Gertrude’s after Saffron’s wedding, she will be in attendance, and will take you with her when she leaves" she declared, her voice colder now, resolved. "And don’t expect us to welcome you back anytime soon."

I nodded silently, still looking away. As she left the room, I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the pillows. A strange calm washed over me. The threat of being sent to Aunt Gertrude no longer loomed like it once had.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the less frightening it seemed.

Aunt Gertrude had been cast out for being different, for failing to meet society’s expectations. Maybe, just maybe, I had more in common with her than anyone else in this family.

Saffron looked radiant but terrified. Her eyes darted across the grand hall, her smile faltering every time someone came too close. I should have objected to this marriage, but I couldn't. Not for lack of love or loyalty,no, I simply couldn't find the energy within myself. The truth was, I had no reason to.

On paper, Duke Bruce Banner was everything one could hope for. Powerful, wealthy, and above all else, terrifyingly loyal to Saffron. Since their courtship began, he had proven his devotion in ways that made him seem perfect, like the ideal match for a girl of Saffron’s standing. And with our family’s name teetering on the edge of ruin, he was exactly what she needed. What we all needed.

Mother had remained by my side throughout the day, ensuring that I didn’t cause a scene. Her hands were always just a breath away, offering water, passing sweets, shielding me from questions thrown by fellow relatives. It was the most affectionate she’d ever been, a strange contrast to her usual distant demeanor. Perhaps she feared what the slightest slip would reveal that her daughter carried a secret far more scandalous than a dismissal from court.

My pregnancy was the one secret she seemed determined to protect, at least for now.

I managed to slip away and found Saffron standing alone, staring into the mirror, her smile long gone. Her hands were trembling as she adjusted her veil, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can run away together, you know?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the murmurs of guests in the distance.

She looked at me, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "And I know you’re seriously considering that," she said, a soft laugh escaping her. But there was no joy in it, only resignation. “But I can’t, Honey. I can’t abandon my obligations. I don’t have the luxury of running away.”

I nodded, though my heart ached for her. Saffron, my strong-willed sister, had always carried the weight of responsibility on her delicate shoulders, and despite her fear, she would never cast it aside. That was who she was.

She pulled me in close, her breath warm against my cheek. "I’d like to see my little niece or nephew often, though," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So I expect frequent visits."

I couldn’t help but smile, though tears blurred my vision. "You’ll be the best aunt this child will ever know," I said, meaning every word.

We hugged tightly, holding onto this fleeting moment of peace. It was one of the few moments we’d had where neither of us had to pretend. For just a heartbeat, it was the two of us again,sisters, not trapped by titles or duties, but bound by love.

But we both knew it wouldn’t last. We had already lost, each in our own way.

“Dear!” A voice interrupted our embrace, and we both turned to see Duke Bruce Banner standing at the entrance, a charming but calculated smile on his face. His eyes flickered between us, though it was clear his attention was only on Saffron.

"I truly hate to interrupt a bonding moment between sisters," he said with a grin, "but it’s time for the cake."

Saffron gave him a strained smile before taking his arm. But before she let go of my hand, she squeezed it tightly, a silent promise, a reassurance that no matter what, we would always have each other. Even if the world we lived in forced us apart.

As they walked away, the weight of what was coming settled over me like a shroud. Soon, I would be gone, sent away under the guise of preserving what little dignity we had left. And Saffron would stay, locked in a life she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t refuse.

I watched them go, my heart heavy, knowing that we had both become prisoners of our fates. But for now, we could pretend,for one last time,that everything was still as it had been.

The weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. A chapter of my life that I had barely begun to understand was forcibly coming to a close, and it was out of my control. I let out a small breath, placing a hand over my belly. The child inside me had yet to show, but the reality of it, the enormity of it, was already sinking in. Would I be a good mother? Would I ever have a chance to make things right?

The carriage rumbled through the forest, cutting a path toward the next town where we would stop to rest. I watched as tree after tree passed by, but the rhythmic movement of the ride made me nauseous. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the twisting in my stomach, but instead, my mind filled with questions.

What will my new life be like?

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off into sleep until a sharp jolt startled me awake. The carriage had come to a sudden stop. At first, there was nothing but hushed murmurs from outside, voices low and indistinct. But then the gurgling screams began.

My heart seized in my chest.

Were we being robbed?

Terror gripped me, and I curled up tightly in the corner of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer to the carriage door. There was a pause,three distinct knocks,before the door swung open.

Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement. A familiar, infuriating smirk followed.

"Loki."

Confusion flooded through me. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He stepped forward with all the casual arrogance I had come to expect from him taking a seat across from me, his grin widening. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

His words took me aback, my confusion deepening. What did he mean?

Loki sighed, as if I were being slow, and moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against my cheek, a gesture that was oddly tender coming from him. But then his hand traveled lower, resting over my stomach. His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “This," he said, his fingers pressing gently, "and this.”

I recoiled instinctively, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. Panic swirled inside me as I whispered, “How did you know?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something more serious. “What made you think I wouldn’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, searching for something that would make this moment less terrifying, but nothing came. The air between us felt suffocating.

Loki sat back, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms along the back of the seat, completely at ease as though we weren’t discussing the life growing inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?”

“There was nothing to tell,” I said quickly, my voice tight.

He laughed then, a cold, humorless sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, there’s plenty to tell,” he said, his tone darkening. His gaze dropped to my stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Did you think you could keep the child from me?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you could keep yourself away from me?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze but feeling the weight of his words press down on me.

Loki leaned back again, watching me with those sharp, calculating eyes. “Since you’re carrying my child, I won’t punish you as I normally would.” His voice was low, almost casual, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “But make no mistake, Honey,you will be punished.”

The carriage fell eerily quiet. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension was thick, palpable.

Then, slowly, Loki stood, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t escape me, Honey. Not now, not ever.” He grabbed my hair, banging my head against the wall. “Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more forthcoming about your condition.” He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp burning as I feel my skin being pulled. He begins moving me around, as if molding me to his touch. Before I know it, I am on my hands and knees. I try to move away but Loki slaps my face “No, you will behave.” I still, his hand still in my hair. I feel fingers creeping down my dress before lifting my skirts over my bottom. Tears flow from my eyes as I begin to beg him to let me go. “Please Loki do not do this to me.” He ignores my please as he removes my undergarments, I feel the cool air against my naked skin, and I begin to struggle once more. He pushes me into the carriage seat “If you’d like my guards to join, that please continue to move.”

I still once more.

This could not be happening again. As much fear as I had to be meeting aunt Gertrude, the one thing I was glad to avoid was this.

But it seems to be something I am unable to escape.

I feel his fingers ghosting my bottom, before feeling their way between my lips, gently pushing against my pearl. My breathe hitches as I whimper at the feel. He chuckles slowly rubbing it as my arousal begins to stain his hands.

It wasn’t long before I felt him moving around behind, and I felt something soft and firm poking between my legs.

“Please” I whisper with one final plea

He carefully moves to grab my hips, tightening his hands against them. “You will be mine forever.”

He thrusted into my pussy, prying the flesh apart, pushing until he reached the hilt of his pubic region.

Although there was pain, as expected, it did not feel as terribly as the first time. Slowly he began to move, pushing in and out until his cock was soaked with the juices of my cunt. Although it stung, the feeling wasn’t torturous, in fact, it was beginning to feel pleasurable.

Guilt began to eat away at me as his thrusts became more forceful, and I slowly begin reach a peak. My whimpers becoming moans, as he hovers over me to pinch my nipples.

 I don’t realize what’s happened, until I feel vibrations in my body and see stars in my eyes.

“Good Girl.” Loki whispers into my ear as \ he continues to thrust until I feel his body stiffen with his own release. He collapses on top of me, feeling my exposed skin while still inside of me.

I was still wrapping my head about what had just gone on when Loki moved to open the carriage door, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at me. His expression was unsettling, a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation.

"I feel like a game of tag," he said casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

My mind was still spinning, my body worn out, trying desperately to gather my bearings after everything that had just happened. The situation felt surreal, like some twisted nightmare.

"I’ll give you a five-minute head start." His words made my stomach drop as the pieces slowly started coming together in my mind. "If you make it to your mother’s home before I catch you, I will leave you alone forever."

I sat up, quickly fixing my dress, my heart pounding in my chest. Loki was playing a game, one I knew I couldn’t afford to lose. Staying in this carriage with him would lead to nowhere good, but the alternative was no less terrifying.

"However," he continued, pausing just enough to let the weight of his words sink in, "if I catch you first, you’ll have to say yes to my proposal." He smiled wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous excitement. "And we’ll continue to play tag until you do reach your home."

Before I could respond, Loki stepped out of the carriage and, with alarming ease, pulled me out and lifted me onto the ground. His grip was firm but not painful, yet it only heightened the sense of helplessness coiling inside me.

When I looked behind him, I found the coachmen dead on the ground, laying in what I assumed to be blood. I was too scared to speak, so I remained quiet.

"Your five minutes starts now." His grin widened as he glanced at an invisible clock. "Four minutes and fifty-four seconds."

I didn’t waste another second. I took off running, my legs stiff and unsteady beneath me, my body still heavy with the shock of what had just occurred. My heart hammered in my chest, each step labored and uncoordinated as I struggled to push forward. All with his essence dripping down my legs.

This can’t be happening, I thought to myself, as tears welled up in my eyes. This can’t be real.

But it was.

The trees blurred as I stumbled through the forest, branches catching at my dress, my shoes sinking into the uneven earth beneath me. Tears streamed down my face as I tripped and fell hard into the dirt, my hands scraping against the ground as I hit the earth with a dull thud.

I could hear Loki’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me with his smile, his challenge. The reality of what he wanted, the cruel game he was playing, pressed down on me, suffocating my thoughts.

I lay there for a moment, my chest heaving, dirt smeared across my hands and face. I felt the ground beneath me, solid and cold, but all I could think was:

what am I supposed to do now?

[leavesfallensparse]

Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’.  Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.” Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she’d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.     

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Hi! I found your house of mouse au pretty recently and I am LIVING FOR IT. And I wanted to ask... How do you think Miss Yuu's interactions with Peter Pan's characters would be like. I'm dieing for seeing how she would get along with Peter, Wendy, Jane, the lost boys Captain Hook and the pirates

Alright so my Yuu is actually kind of a mix of Wendy Darling (sweet, motherly, mature yet innocent, protective, a pacifist that will get angry/annoyed when the situation calls for it, loves children, very imaginative with a love for stories, etc) and Snow White (a forest nymph that has animals flocking to her, angelic singing voice, enjoys baking and acts of service, loves to tease and will put her foot down if things aren't right/up to standard, forgiving, feminine, sees the good in everyone but understands danger, etc)

So I see Wendy and Alice as like the quote-unquote 'leaders' of the younger Disney girls and those two definitely look up to Miss Yuu as an older sister. Since Wendy's mature for her age, she kind of sees Yuu as a sort of mentor(?) and has a lot of respect for her. The two of them especially love to tell stories to each other since they love fiction and magic and all that. She's not exactly part of the shipping war since she's so young and her idea of love is 'girl likes boy so girl kisses boy' but she is a huge romantic and does sigh happily whenever she sees Malleus act all prince-like with Yuu.

John and Michael (and the lost boys), like Wendy, look up to her as a big sister. she does entertain their adventurous spirit when she's with them and she cares for them deeply. The Darling brothers and their friends usually hang around with the other little boys though so she doesn't get much time with them - but they are 100% down to stand up for her if they see her in trouble.

I've answered an ask about Tink and Yuu's relationship before but to add on I think she was insanely jealous of the attention Yuu got from everyone else at first and then was hit by the Yuu charm after one (1) conversation with her where Yuu just gushed about her and praised her so know they're bffs.

Mr Smee dotes on her. Like Kronk and LeFou, he's a henchman that's not evil, he just cares for the villain. The pirates have accepted her as one of their own and since she loves hearing about their stories Hook and his men just love to hype themselves up. I don't really know what else to write.

Okay Peter, I think would first not like her because, well, girl. He does try to pull that whole 'girls talk too much', 'well, get on with it girl', 'wendy's enough' thing that he did with Wendy but Yuu was very quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't have any real strong feelings about her but he lives for chaos and chaos always follows her so he'll help her if it means causing annoyance to the villains/nrc boys.

Thanks for the ask ☺️

[crushedsweets]

hey sucker! 😋😋

what would the creeps do for valentine’s day?

like yknow, would some be given small treats or do others treat it like a regular day?

happy belated valentines day! hope you guys had fun and shared some love with everyone around you! this is the closest youre gonna get to x reader content from me.

AGAIN THIS IS SET IN MY AU!!! MY AU IS PRETTY DETAILED AND HAS AN OVERARCHING STORYLINE WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED FRIENDSHIPS, SETTINGS, JOBS, CHARACTER ARCS AND WHATNOT....... so :3 yeah.

Tim and Brian probably don't do much. They'll totally grab some chocolates/candy and eat it, but just cuz its there, not as a gift. if they had a partner, they'd just go get some dinner.. flowers, basic stuff. put on an unironed button up and pick their partner up LOL.

toby might do something depending on where he is in the story. early on, he is not doing SHIIIIT. deep into his friendship with nina(who opens up a lot of his emotional vulnerabilities n stuff), he might feel a little inclined to pick up some flowers for some of the girls in his life (nina, clocky, kate, lazari) just cuz he used to do something small for his sister/mom when he was younger (cuz frank never did shit). if he had a partner, he'd def wanna do jewelry and classic flowers. he likes necklaces and rings and piercings and stuff, doesnt wear them much cuz they get in the way, but likes seeing people wear stuff he got. he's the type to make them turn around so he could put the necklace on them, but if they even slightly laugh at him trying to be sweet, he's getting mad HAHA. "ok nevermind im returning this you fucking suck" (jokingly.. but he is embarrassed). would just wanna stay home though, no nights out or anything

clocky would paint stuff. she'd give nina a portrait of herself cuz nina loooves being someone's muse, do some nice art of forest creatures and leave some notes for toby. she'd feel pretty awkward about it just cuz even when she was with her highschool boyfriend, she wasn't good at giving or receiving affection. if she's gifted any flowers (which she will be getting), she's absolutely pressing them and either sealing them in some paintings, or putting it in frames that hold her old art/art she picked up at thrifts. if she had a partner, she'd obviously paint them or something. i could see her spending a long time working through a journal to gift them, making every 3 pages a painting, drawing, or journal entry expressing something. "today you and i went to get lunch. i think the place was way too expensive, but you liked it." and then empty pages for her partner to fill in with whatever they want.

nina. ok come on. lets be serious. its nina. she's gonna buy everyone(as in toby, clocky, kate, jane, liu) one expensive gift (cologne, watches, shoes, jewelry, makeup) and then throw together mini bouquets, notes, and probably shop lift other smaller stuff cuz 'IM BROKE I SPENT TOO MUCH I HAVE TO' LOLLL.. she's the type to literally decorate her house for it, putting up some of clocky's more romantic paintings (cuz she has a collection of clocky's work), setting out heart-shaped coasters, bringing out heart shaped pillows.... honestly she probably already had those.... she'd absolutely plan galentines dinner for her friends, bake cookies, everything. if she had a partner, it would be really similar. she likes to spoil people, gift giving and acts of service are her ways of showing love - buuuut she does want to be spoiled in return, so physical affection and quality time is what she wants to receive. she wants to be treated like a princess, be picked up, have her doors opened for her, told she looks beautiful, etc.

jack is even less likely to do something than toby. before the sacrifice, he'd grab a cheap bag of individually wrapped chocolates and give them to people he knew around campus. i could see him buying the same chocolates and leaving it in his cabin. telling whoever visits him to take some. nina would leave him some flowers too(say its also from toby) and he'd be really grateful, cuz she'd be very sure to get him whatever he thinks smells the nice. that way he can still appreciate it. if he had a partner, YOU KNOW HE'S COOKING THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DINNER AT HOME. he's cleaning up, very awkwardly trying to dress nice. black button up, slacks, slick his hair back(or he'd just do whatever his partner says looks best, not too concerned with his own preference). he'd feel sooo fucking embarrassed and very nervous but he just wants to make it special. he'd write a long love letter, too

jeff isnt doing shit for anyone. he'll go steal some chocolate and mind his own business. if he had a partner, one that he ACTUALLY loved and wanted to keep around. maybe he'd pick up some flowers and chocolate, mainly cuz he knows thats the bare minimum sort of gift. he'd let them demand that day from him, which takes a LOT for him to let anyone feel entitled to HIS time. if he knows they have higher expectations (dinner, a letter, etc) he'd probably bitch and moan and be like "ugh you already know im into you why do i gotta do this shit" but if theyre serious, he'd probably do it. half assed though...

kates also not doing anything unprompted. she wouldnt even know the day is coming around. her only memories of valentines day would be passing out some candy and cards around class in elementary school, but once she was in the forest, nobody gave HER shit. she might pick some flowers and wrap it in some paper for people , but ONLY if she KNOWS they're getting something for her. like, she'd pick nina some flowers cuz she knows ninas doing something regardless, but she wouldnt get toby anything cuz she wouldnt have expected it from him. then shed feel bad. if she had a partner, again it'd be similar. she KNOWS she needs to put in the effort, but she doesnt exactly have the resources... the farm does pay her some cash since she works with the animals, but she mostly just gives it straight to toby so he can buy stuff for the cabin. but she'd keep it this time around, and quietly ask toby if he could come with her to get some stuff for them. some sweets, a necklace, scribble out a little letter. smth sweet.

janes married. and she goes all out of her wife. buys her like a 3dozen bouquet of red roses, sets reservations at nice restaurants, makes mary breakfast the morning of. all of that. i dont even know how to go into detail on this because thats just how it is for her, theres not some turmoil for her to work through. she'd also start getting sally some stuff. plushies holding hearts, balloons, sweet things like that. if she had a partner...WELL SHE ALREADY DOES!!!!

if liu knows nina is going to gift him something expensive, he's doing the same. he's going to grab her flowers and maybe some shoes or something he knows she's had her eye on. he wouldn't be really subtle about it, just text her "whats on your wishlist right now" LOLLL... he just appreciates nina's presence (after they get over the jeff situation) and likes having a little sister to spoil. he'd probably send jane a bouquet of flowers with a thank you note, since jane did a lot for him. if he had a partner, it would also be very stereotypical. date plans, picking them up, flowers, etc. he'd LOOOOVE to make one of those big baskets filled to the brim with random shit. would wanna come home and draw a nice bubble bath and have some wine. stuff like that in general...

ben, lulu, ann, and dina wouldnt do anything and wouldnt get a partner. lazari would draw some pictures for her friends! sally will draw something for jane and mary

[zabala0z]

TMA S3 makes me want to cry and like shake around the characters in a fun box. Anyways hi!!! I’m here like 5 mins later.

MAG 102:

“I’ve been trying to give you the information you need”

“Sure, when you’re not bashing its head in with a pipe” GAGGED.

I want to know what happened though with Helen and Jon???? Like did they talk, what did Jon do?? I need to know. Is Michael like fully dead? I guess he can’t die really. I can’t fully grasp the situation with Michael-Helen-The Spiral.

Anyways, I guess that’s why Not! Sasha was going to the wax museum. That’s where the Unknowing will happen. Cannot blame Melanie for trying to kill Elias again. I’d do it too. So, this French guy had like a pretty similiar situation to Jane Prentiss, with the whole “bugs love me and I love them, etc”. Crazy Gerard and Gertrude worked together??? The weirdest duo ever. Goth guy and old woman. I wanna know Gerard Keays deal. I need to hear his voice

Not much on MAG 103. Guess that’s why Gertrude went to New Zealand. Jon is cooking up a plan with Daisy and I’m praying it goes well. Another meat statement. Whatever the meat entity is, I want nothing to do with it. I also realized that when Leitner mentioned his assistant getting consumed by like a pile of meat, that’s like connected to MAG 18. Toby Carlisle. I’ll edit that post. (EDIT 9/2: I just realized when reading over MAG 58 that the cannibalistic guy is named Benjamin Carlisle. Jesus. This meat theme went through generations. Ill edit that post as well)

MAG 104: Sneak Preview

I hate this so much, I want to like give Tim a nice blanket. Everyone in this podcast needs a damn blanket.

The fact the theatre was destroyed by fire twice makes me think The Desolation had something to do with it cause y’know fire. The clown being Joseph Grimaldi is interesting. A real person being applied to the podcast, I think that’s cool. I mean bros dead it’s a free real estate. Also I’m a bit worried about Tim and his “mild” suicidal tendencies now.

Didn’t glean much from MAG 105 but a lot of death (of course, it’s about war) and like the undead. Xiaoling was sweet. Interesting the institute has a sister institute?? I hope they come up more

MAG 106: A Matter of Perspective

Oh hey, it’s the other guy from Personal Space! Apparently he didn’t have a better time than Carter Chilcot. Pretty sure this is another like The Vast statement y’know. The whole nihilism thing. I want to see Manuela’s story because it was said her fingers were burned, her eyes were red and she was withdrawn I believe so clearly something happened with her. No idea what was blocking the stars.

Elias. I swear, I swear I hate this man so much 😭 the fact Mealnies dad was in Ivy Meadows (MAG 36) is unlucky. Smoke inhalation would’ve been the better death. God I love Melanie like leave her alone Elias

Anyways! That’s all I got. I stopped taking my daily synopsis’s of every episode because school started up and while I love this podcast, I got things to do unfortunately 💀 so I’m just relying on my brain and my 10/10 memory.

[fumikomiyasaki]

So I made myself a Zenless Zone Zero sona too cause I have a lot of fun with the game right now and had a Sudden idea.

Name: Daffodil

Faction: New Eridu Public Security

Agent Rank: A

Role: Support

Department: Hollow affairs Department

Element: Ice

Weapon: Glove Crossbow

-Daffodil is a Thiren who at first wasn't taken much seriously when starting in Public security... the hollow always made her curious... she was much more driven by curiousities and a little green behind the ears but over time bonding with her colleagues she could prove many others wrong to be actually quite the capable officer...

-Acts serious most of the time but if you meet her outside of work she is much more a daydreamer, softer, often sitting at the noodles shop or the games to relax... and does even between missions take a nap in the lobby

-Has a weakness for fluffy things so she is eyeing Seth and von Lycaon but also hugs office MewMew if nobody is around

-Most people call her Officer Daf…. or Officer Daffodil but her colleagues are allowed to call her Daffy at times… just not in front of other people cause she gets embarrassed about that

-Is known to also sweet talk some criminals and do well at interrogation to get things out… she has quite a way of changing her attitude from sweet officer who just wants the best for you to… well cop that could strike you down with one ice arrow if you don't cooperate… she has good aim and can do warning shots too, only if needed of course, freezing someone in place does help against fleeing criminals

-takes her job very serious so you can see her overdo it at times and put in the effort to be recognized and make sure the job is done well

Relationships:

Zhu Yuan: became close friends over the time she joined N.E.P.S... Daffodil gives her often encouragement and they listen to anothers problems and issues... Daffodil often offering her a tea to calm. They are just like good old friends... almost like sisters and have a good combo to back another up.

Qingyi: At first Daffodil was very fascinated by her but learning more and getting used to her... she is often caught of guard by some of her comments but makes sure to be a good example to her as a rookie. At times Daffodil does correct her and show her the right ropes though.

Seth: At times he wants to be taken more serious by her cause she often just finds him adorable and grows affectionate so... its often a bit much for him. Its at least less teasing than Jane but still a lot to handle but he does like does affections of her at times, even if he isn't one to admit it. He still works hard to impress her and be worth the praise. Not knowing she might actually like him more than he thinks.

Jane: Daffodil is... exhausted by her to say the least... doesn't really trust her antics as a colleague, she can aknowledge her skills but as a hard worker to hear her get so much praise and act less serious at times discourages herself. However at times she thinks maybe she can learn something from her.

Anton: They seem to know another but its a relationship where he waves her from afar and she hides her face not wanting to be seen... their bond is awkward... it seems like they have history in the past but Daffodil does not want to talk about it. But if someone does talk bad about him she will get lightly defensive.

Von Lycaon: Overall Daffodil is a secret fan of Victorias housekeeping but... Lycaon is one of the main reasons cause of it... she admires him from afar with a blush and a smile but can barely speak a few words with him... before feeling emberassed... mayhaps she will get over it but for now...its how it is.

[mann-walter]

Thomas Cromwell’s Lack of Wife Problem

I just finished episodes 2 and 3 and was going back and forth on whether to make the reviews joint or not. Eventually, I opted to not combine the reviews because I wanted to focus on different things. Matter of fact, I think I will not be writing strictly about the whole of each episode, but rather zooming in on things I find interesting in each. For example, the aftermath of Cromwell’s wife's, Liz, death in episode two.

I will say without shame that to me, episode 2 is entirely about two things: the increasing hopelessness of Wolsey’s case and Cromwell’s lack of a wife. The latter took so much room it felt funny at times. This was of course where we get first glimpses of Jane Seymour and that one grey velvet stroking scene with Mary Boleyn, but also that funny conversation he had with Alice who just asked bluntly why he doesn’t remarry, and with Gardiner about the latter’s love-life.

I see now what y’all have been saying about their chemistry. Sometimes it’s so… comically tense.

But of course, this is also the episode where we get the Cromwell-Johanne arc. There had been hints of it in episode 1 but the tension was much heightened here. Whenever they are together there’s always an air of “would they, won’t they”. It’s sweet, it’s sad, and to an extent, it’s awkward (‘cause, you know, she’s his sister-in-law). That is why, and also because the episode does a good job making us empathetic toward Cromwell—his frustration, his discomfort, his sadness—that the kiss was glorious.

I do not kid when I write I nearly did a victory slide in my room when that came up (I ended up only pausing the episode and blasted “Samba de Janeiro”). It has now entered my book of “Most Glorious and Best Anticipated Kiss Scenes”, standing a little bit lower than that kiss scene at the end of The Rise of Skywalker—I mean, by quality, it should be ranked equally if not higher, but hey, I waited for that damn kiss scene for four years.

A theory though. I think it wasn’t simply put at the end of the episode just to conclude the romantic crescendo. I think it parallels Henry’s dream about his dead brother. Henry was afraid he had done wrong marrying Catherine and being king, he felt like taking what was supposed to be his brother’s. Cromwell later calmed him down and convinced him that Arthur was there to strengthen him in his rule, not convict him. I think that interpretation also works at Cromwell’s home afterward.

There are a couple of things I noticed about this relationship. Both of them obviously had had feelings for one another for some time, Johanne more open about it than Thomas with her halfway kiss on the cheek. But, that one line about her feeling insecure about their wealth (she fears that the prosperous life now will be taken suddenly away, that there will be a “reckoning”), she said “…the things we have now”, made me feel they already had a thing for some time. Maybe I misread it, maybe it was just her depicting how her family’s life is now much better in general and not a specific sense of joint entitlement to wealth and property as in a marriage.

Another thing I’ve noticed about the relationship is how Thomas seems to refer to his sister-in-law as “Liz” later in episode 3 where they’ve kind of settled. Maybe I misheard, it was a very brief moment after all. I doubt people on the production made a mistake. I haven’t read the books so maybe it means something or makes sense because of something, but to me, watching the show, it was kind of strange. Maybe it was to say Thomas hasn’t been over his wife’s death (obviously) and has now picked up this weird coping mechanism.

[acourtofthought]

I decided to rewatch Pride and Prejudice and the similarities to Elain's current situation continue jumping out to me.

First Elain (aka Elizabeth) was not the sister expected to find the best match in marriage. In P&P, Jane was the "most beautiful" one (in ACOTAR that's technically Elain) but the fact that Jane (aka Nesta) was almost guaranteed to secure a wealthy husband is similar to how Mother Archeron raised Nesta on the belief that she was their hope for an advantageous marriage. Neither Mrs. Bennett nor Mother Archeron believed Elizabeth (or Elain) to be their "meal ticket", so to speak.

In the end, while Jane (Nesta) did marry someone with an impressive pedigree, it was Elizabeth who ended up marrying someone of an even higher station. Just like Elain is mated to someone who (unknown to them at this time) is set up to become a High Lord.

But before Elizabeth ended up with Darcy, she showed an interest in Wickham, having washed her hands of Darcy after their first meeting (and a few thereafter). It's clear that though she was still drawn to Darcy on some level (talking about him even if it was just to complain, paying close attention to his conversation with Caroline Bingley, showing surprise / confusion after he helps her into the carriage), we see her continually remind herself and others that she has "sworn to loath him for all of eternity" because of the initial impression she had of him.

I always find it strange when people compare Az / Elain to Darcy and Elizabeth because Darcy and Elizabeth's romantic tension is born from their initial disdain which is what makes their later glances and lingering touches so memorable. Her thinking that he has hated her from the start and then being surprised when his actions suggest otherwise (in that way, Lucien would be more like Elizabeth's character, thinking that Elain has no interest in him).

But Az and Elain are completely lacking in the enemies to lovers department.

To me, Az would be more like Wickham in the story.

Elizabeth has convinced herself she has no interest in Darcy and instead turns her eye to Wickham who begins showing her attention. She's convinced that he's a good man and that Darcy is further proven in the wrong until we later find out Wickham is the one who kept truths from Elizabeth (which is line with Az telling the reader that Elain had no idea the things he had done meaning he hides parts of himself from her). And just as Elizabeth's favor of Wickhams fell once she learned of his true colors, it seems Elain's favor of Az has fallen after he called her a mistake. After the truth became known in P & P, there was no real confrontation between Elizabeth and Wickham because their relationship never really got off the ground and I imagine the same will be said for E/riel.

Even though Elizabeth eventually realizes that Darcy is a great man, she's still stubborn and unwilling to admit it until the end (hence why her father, mother and Jane are shocked to find she wants to marry him, they were convinced she hated him - sounds a lot like Az's line of "she has no interest in him anyway").

P & P ranks as one of the greatest love stories of all time and it doesn't make it to the top of those charts because she had a sweet and gentle romance with Wickham, who looked like the "healthier" of the two possible love interests at first glance. Were Elizabeth and Wickham not at first friendly and agreeable towards one another, like E/riel, versus how Darcy and Elizabeth initially got along?

When Darcy first refuses to dance with Elizabeth then later does dance with her but barely makes conversation, is that not similar to Elain's refusal to get to know Lucien?

When Elizabeth begins to soften a bit towards Darcy then completely withdraws and refuses his proposal after she learns of the part he played in separating Jane and Mr. Bingley, is that not reminiscint of Elain walking with Lucien, inviting him back to Velaris at the end of ACOWAR only to do a complete 180 in the novella and SF where she all but ignores him?

The odds being stacked against two people because of misunderstandings and miscommunications since their first meeting, yet the couple still finding their way to one another is why the HEA feels so hard fought yet well earned for Elizabeth and Darcy and there's is no setup more similar to that than Elucien.

[littlelesbianintern]

My thoughts on episode seven of Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies:

- Rizzo being Gil’s younger sister makes so much sense. no wonder she’s such a menace in the original films if she’s got him for a brother!

- also does this make his name Gil Rizzo?

- i loved having an episode which focused on the boys but definitely want my girls back next week. I miss them <3

- this episode gave so much more depth to the guys though and I really appreciate that. Gil having loads of sisters and having to be the man of the house and support his family, Potato trying to care for his father, Shy Guy realising he doesn’t have to be who his father wants him to be, Richie’s unhealthy coping mechanisms, THESE BOYS MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME

- including Buddy in the boys episode was a great idea because it presented this interesting dichotomy of Buddy vs the T-Birds. Obviously Buddy’s feelings are valid, but presenting the issues he’s facing vs the problems the T-Birds are dealing with really puts it in perspective.

- BUT BUDDY DIDNT TELL JANE ABOUT THE ELECTION!!!!! WHY????!!! EVERY TIME HE HAS THE CHANCE TO DO THE RIGHT THING HE DOESNT ITS SO SELFISH

- look I appreciate that he likes Jane but his intentions seem selfish. the difference between richie and Buddy when they turn up at janes door. Richie turns up with a genuine apology and gives her the chance to answer on her own terms. Buddy almost does the right thing (which would be giving Jane a genuine choice) but then does what he knows benefits him even if we can tell he feels guilty about what he’s doing

- the comedy between the t-birds is unmatched

- the scene where they’re all comforting each other was so sweet <3 it really shows how loyal to each other they are. it also gave me the same vibes as the scene between Kenickie and Danny in the original film (you know the one I mean???)

- all that was Richie trying to work out he was in love with Jane??? DUDE WE COULD HAVE ALL TOLD YOU THAT IN EPISODE ONE

- gil likes olivia so much i need them to get together soon please!!!!! the guy is down helpless

- the guys helping shy guy with his one line was adorable. and then them being his biggest supporters at the play 🥹

- also that last shot of richie vs buddy??? This is going to be so interesting i can’t wait for next week

[uncannyencore]

CREEPYPASTA RELATIONSHIPS! - Sally Williams

Sally William’s relationships with other pastas.

|Jeff the killer| // Ehh

They both are like siblings that claim they hate each other, Sally doesn’t really like him all that much because he’s gross, weird, and a bitch. But trust me, he doesn’t want to get on her bad side. She’s a little devil.

|Ben Drowned| 👍🏻

Again, like siblings, only Ben’s way nicer to Sally than Jeff is. And when she has nightmares, she’s allowed to stay in Ben’s room and watch him play video games until she falls asleep<3

|Eyeless Jack| 🫱🏼‍🫲🏿

Like a father to her, he’s pretty much the no.1 person she trusts. He calms her down and takes care of her, protecting her. Plus he’s generally nice and respectful. One of the “last people she has”.

|Jane the Killer|

Mother figure to her, she really likes her style, and she knows that her and her wife hate Jeff. She knows why, but she still doesn’t exactly want Jeff to be hurt.

|Ticci-Toby|

She terrifies him. He’s absolutely shitlessly scared of her. She likes torturing him when no one’s around, but when another girl is there, she’ll act like a little angel. But she still doesn’t want him getting hurt, cause again, he’s one of the only people she has left and can trust.

|Nina the Killer|

Big sister figure, she adores her style. Nina has proved in multiple ways that she’d do anything to protect Sally. She’s put herself standing before danger in order to keep Sally safe.

|Clockwork| Another older sister figure, yet more vulgar and violent. Basically, “Touch the kid and I’m gonna fucking murder you, bitch.” Looking at Sally is fine, but get too close and she’ll end your entire fucking bloodline.

|Lost Silver|

Sally really likes them! She finds them sweet. One of her very best friends in fact! She likes talking to them a lot. And she’ll often bring them up in random conversations.

|Kagekao| One of the only people she has left again. Only this time, he’s not around as much. Since Sally usually can’t leave the forest and go to the overrealm in the small town where Kagekao usually spends his time, she doesn’t get to see him quite often. Though the two are very close! Jeff once lost Sally in the forest, and lucky, Kagekao was there to take care of her, then beat the shit out of Jeff for leaving a small innocent child alone in the forest. He treats her like a little angel<3

|Blake / The Puppeteer| They get along very well. Blake usually will play games with her, like dress up, make over, or even have tea parties. She’s admitted herself, that he is in fact better than Jeff in most ways. He reads her bedtime stories, and will sometimes watch her from the shadows in order to make sure she’s alright.

|Bloody Painter| He’s kind of scared of her. He knows what she can do, and it scares him a lot. But either way, he tries to hide his fear. He lets her draw and stuff, and look through his sketchbooks. But she has to keep quiet about all the sketches of Blake. :3

|Nurse Ann| One of her caretakers, she’ll usually put her to bed and wash her. Sally likes her, even though she’s really quiet, and most of everyone finds her creepy. Shes like a mother figure to her!

|Eyeless Lulu| Big sister!!!! Lulu will read her stories, and take her out into the forest for walks. Since Lulu lives in the abandoned hospital with Nurse Ann as her caretaker, Ann will sometimes give her the responsibility to make sure Sally is safe in the forest.

|Slenderman| No. she hates him. She hates him a lot. She knows what he’s done to her friends. No.

|Laughing Jack| Best friends! Found her after she killed her uncle, and for some reason, he wasn’t aggressive towards her. He brought her back to the mansion, but kept her a little secrets for only the other clowns to see! Jill thought she was adorable, Candy Pop didn’t know what in the fuck she was, and Grande officially claimed her as one of the Circus freaks<3 (this was before Jason and Nathan arrived.) sadly, Slenderman found out and took her away. (If yall want more info on that I’ll be glad to share!)

|Laughing Jill| She’s pretty neat! She reminds Sally of a doll, she is also considerably one of her Caretakers.

|Candy Pop|

He finds her a funny little critter. He likes all the cool shit she can do, and he’ll sometimes do her make up like a clown or jester would when she asks! He knows she’s more than some little sweet innocent girl. Cause he can see right through the act. In reality, she’s a eldritch horror, more powerful than Slenderman, and possibly even Zalgo.

|Nathan the Nobody|

He’s chill with her, and she’s chill with him. They don’t interact with each other often, but when they do, Sally’ll just kind of cling onto the guy innocently. he doesn’t really mind. She reminds him of his sister anyway….

|Crystal Lux| Speaking of Nathan’s sister, we have, well- Nathan’s sister! She’s like an older sister to a bunch of ghosts and spirits, like Sally, Lifeless Lucy, and more.

|Brian / Hoodie| She’s fine with him. He gets her candy every time he visits her. All he’s gotta do is follow her boundaries and he’s fine! And he does. He’s respectful.

|Tim / Masky| ehhh, she doesn’t really like him.

|Lazari| She misses her. A lot. And whenever Blake is around, she’ll ask him how Lazari’s been!

|Kate the Chaser| Big sister!

That’s all for now! Who next?