#joy! joy! joy! beauty and splendor and all good things in the world!

[woodnrust]

The autism is winninggg :3

[theonevoice]

Have a gold star...

I swear, I started this as a wholesome innocent comment on how when Crowley has to think of a prize, after 6000+ years, his sweet head still goes to stars as the ultimate symbol of something beautiful and cherished.

But then I was struck by something: sarcasm.

Both times, when he tells someone to "have a gold star," he doesn't say it with a tone of affectionate irony, like the cool-but-sweet uncle with a rough personality but a soft heart. He says it with a tone of bitter sarcasm, of painful disenchantment.

Because it's not a prize that he is offering; it's a sop, a cruel joke-gift, something that will get you excited at first just because you have a stupid, naive, innocent soul, and you will later realize that it means nothing to the one who assigned it to you, and that they are ready to take it away whenever they want, while the rest of the world laughs at your ridiculous gullibility.

Because this is what stars were for him.

They were his beloved, exciting creation. The star-factory nebula was his cherished task, assigned to him by God, and he believed that it was meant to be a thing of beauty and splendor, and hold value in the grand scheme of the universe... only to discover, immediately after he created it, that it was never intended to have any value at all. It meant nothing to God. It wasn't even planned to last enough to fullfill its purpose. It was a joke, a cruel prank. 

The stars were God's bad pun of giving angel!Crowley something to do, and love, and have hope and expectations for, and then taking it away. Revealing that it was just a shiny piece of gold cardstock that only a simpleton could consider valuable. Of course he can only say "have a gold star" as a dry snarky sarcastic comment on someone who thinks they have achieved something meaningful when it's actually nothing. Be it the Them defeating the Four Horsemen. Be it Muriel being noticed by the Metatron.

Great, sure, have a gold star, be all excited and squealing with happiness, it will turn into ashes before you even know it.

I am not sure that Crowley's snake eyes were ever intended to signal that he cannot see the stars because snakes have bad vision (even ignoring the zoological fact that they are sensitive to UV light though, so they should still see astronomical objects, in the book it says that demons must be able to see at night, and that's why Crowley doesn't need to turn on the lights on the Bentley), but for sure the Fall and Heaven's cruelty has ruined the stars for him, in a way.

Now, in his mind, they are the ultimate symbol of delusion, of naivety, of foolishly investing your love and passion and hopes in something, of stupidly ignoring that the things you cherish will be ruined or taken away from you or leave you on their own accord.

That's also why Aziraphale's "nothing lasts forever" cuts him so deep. That's why his "no... no, I dont' suppose it does" sounds so much like a truth that he is remembering instead of one that he has jsut discovered.

Here you go, you did it again, you thought you had something significant and instead it was just like your stars, you should have known that whenever you find something beautiful it's just a matter of time before you lose it, you shouldn't get too attached.

In s1e6 he says it to the Them, in s2e6 he says it to Muriel. I do hope that in s3e6 he will get the chance to say it again, but this time it will be honest and out of joy, because whatever is going to happen will make him able again to believe that you can be happy, and can hold onto the good things that you love. You can have all the gold stars, for real. They don't always have to disappear and leave you in pain. They can stay with you.

[sirenjose]

Characters' Wishing Stars

(Updated to include every character's wish, then added more thoughts about more of the other wishes. Thoughts on Norton's/Fool's Gold's and Jose's are at the end)

Part 1 - Wishing Stars

Survivors

Lucky: I wish for good fortune for everyone! May the lucky star bless all!

Emily: May all be endowed with wellness and joy. May sickness be but a distant shadow in this world.

Freddy: I've made some mistakes, Martha, but I've never regretted loving you.

Kreacher: Set adrift toward the yonder, and let everyone know: Kreacher's ambitions shall be made manifest! Mark my words!

Emma: Father, Mother, are you well? Do you, too, gaze up at the stars this evening?

Servais: I wish to one day stand on the grandest stage of magic! That day will surely come.

Kurt: To live in this beautiful world is a blessing, and in the future, I hope to pursue adventures in higher, farther, and grander realms!

Naib: Will this lantern reach the rivers of my homeland? If so, I wish for it to tell her I'm doing well.

Martha: May each soul find sanctuary, never to lose oneself, never to drift astray.

Tracy: Changing the world might be too lofty an ideal, but I at least want to invent things that bring happiness to more people!

William: Someday, I will be acknowledged! Victory is the domain of the brave-those who defy adversity!

Helena: The night sky must be beautiful, just as it is in my imagination. If possible, I'd like to see this wonderful world with my own eyes someday.

Fiona: Mother, do you see? I've taken another step closer to the truth of this world.

Vera: Vera, I wish you well. It was all worth it.

Kevin: They say the departed become stars.. Even now, I still remain shamefully illuminated by your light.

Margaretha: In the not-too-distant future, there will surely be a stage as brilliant as this starry sky meant solely for me. This is my wish.

Eli: Stars, rivers, flowers. This is a beautiful dream I never anticipated, so please let this dream last a little longer.

Aesop: May this lantern find tranquil shores, as may I.

Norton: I want to live a better life.

Patricia: May fate judge all wrongdoing.

Murro: Well-being to all! I hope someone, somewhere, will remember Murro.

Mike: I wish to bring joy to more people and help everyone forget their troubles!

Jose: May all my loved ones embark on their own journeys, and may lighthouses guide them to safe harbors.

Demi: Brother, are you well? Are you admiring this starry sky too?

Victor: To whoever sees my letter and lantern, know that Victor wishes you eternal happiness.

Andrew: Though I cannot gaze directly upon the sun, this eve, I've beheld the most resplendent darkness. I am grateful for this night and for those who accompany me.

Luca: Those who march toward science and truth will not regret it. One day, I will prove everything.

Melly: What a beautiful night. I hope all those little lives be cherished, as they rest beneath the grass and leaves.

Edgar: The shifting starry sky hides endless beauty and mystery, and we mortals, mere chroniclers of this splendor, stand and gaze, as do I.

Ganji: I wish the people of my hometown healthy and prosperous. At least, tonight, I'm looking at the same sky as you.

Annie: May every child grow in peace and happiness. May every little toy cradle your grandest dreams.

Emil: I often forget the past, but from now on, every day shall brim with bliss. I wish that everyone could remember only happiness.

Ada: I wish for Emil's good health. May we all cherish the present and the love of others.

Orpheus: Fate pens the finest tales, so I hope everyone's story holds fewer regrets, twists, and at least, more favorable conclusions.

Memory: The stars are exceptionally beautiful tonight! I also wish to be a kind, loving person who brings happiness to everyone.

Weeping Clown: One day, when the audience watches Joker, they, too, will wear a genuine, satisfied smile.

Professor: I don't have any wishes, save for this lantern to journey far, far away.

Qi: May old companions fare well.

Frederick: The night always brings to mind fragments of the past and chaotic whispers, yet from such whispers, countless great inspirations arise.

Alice: Alice, follow the path you believe to be true, for earnest living begets serendipity.

Charles: Stars, please tell me - should I hold on a little longer?

Lily: I shall alter all through sheer endeavor, Simon.

Matthias: Will the moonlight shine on me… on Matthias?

Florian: The bright yet warmthless stars evoke memories of childhood Christmases.

Evelyn: Are you still searching for your destination.

Hunters

Leo: Lisa, may you grow up healthy and safe.

Joker: Come on! I wish for everyone to share in the madness and mirth with me!

Jack: Should I wish for clarity, or pray to forever bask in this enchanting night…

Bane: May no creature suffer harm. May the heart of humanity awaken to conscience.

Violetta: Oh, beautiful stars… I wish everyone well! I hope… I hope everyone can be loved.

Michiko: Love is bittersweet, and time ticks on without a care. Gazing at the moon always brings to mind those no longer with us.

Hastur: (There is no writing on the wishing star, but it shows signs of having been soaked in water.)

Wu Chang: May you be well, may the years be kind, and may lovers remain together in love.

Joseph: Does moonlight hold the power to turn back time? If such a thing were true, I'd wish to return to the time when you were still here.

Burke: It's too late for me to start making any wishes. But if everyone else is safe and happy, this old soul can rest easy.

Yidhra: (The wishing star is blank, but a fierce night wind blows upon beholding it.)

Robbie: I want a songbird that can fly to where my parents are and sing to them.

Luchino: Rather than making wishes, I believe humanity ought to strive for advancement through diligence.

Mary: The illusion of opulence has been shattered. Given another beginning, I'd choose to be the master of my destiny.

Bonbon: It's been a pleasure knowing you! Bonbon!

Ann: I'm lucky to have found a purpose in life. I hope everyone's kindness and faith will not be in vain.

Antonio: My violin bow, please play the most exquisite, unbound melodies.

Galatea: Stars above, please grant me more inspiration and opportunities to create beautiful works.

Percy: (The wishing star is unmarked, save for traces of motor oil, resembling a moon perhaps?)

Polun: We want money! Wealth! Fame! Of course, we want our dear father and mother too!

Grace: I wish for no one to be lonely. I wish that you could all be happy. As for me, I can't think of any wishes.

Philippe: If my sister and I could gaze at this starry sky together, my wish would be fulfilled.

Nightmare: Congratulations, you've glimpsed the writings of the "Nightmare" in this wondrous dream!

Keigan: I wish for this world to have more justice and rationality. That should be enough.

Alva: May more forsake the folly of human nature and choose to approach the truth.

Ithaqua: Mother, if possible, I wish to at least dream of those moments in the woods and snow at night.

Sangria: Burn once more, for I still seek to prove my worth.

Fool's Gold: I've already dug my way out of fate's mine. Haven't I?

Ivy: (The paper is scribbled with 2 little girls holding a wishing star lantern together.)

Part 2 - Thoughts

In general, all of them are pretty good and I definitely think helps paint a better picture of each character, who they are deep down, and what their priority/goal is.

Quite a few few of them though are fairly sad, including (to me) Freddy, Naib, Helena, Kevin, Murro, Ganji, Charles, Violetta, Joseph, Burke, Robbie, Philip, Ithaqua, Fool's Gold, and Ivy. I have to say, the ones that made me feel the worst were Kevin and Burke (especially the latter. Can you not make me feel like I wanna cry?).

Freddy's I quite like as I think it tells a lot about him. He admits he's not perfect, he admits even things he did weren't right, but for good or ill he still loves Martha Remington. To me, it's that admission of his mistakes I like the most.

Naib and Ganji both simply wishing to be home, with their families, but because they can't they just wish that their loved ones are happy and sufficiently taken care of. Despite how they may be depicted in their games, they both have a lot of sorrow in their heart and have been through quite the ordeals, all while being far from home and any chance to return is slim or difficult to acquire. Everything they do matters little compared to their longing to return home and move past all this.

Helena's wish I to see the world one day, for obvious reasons, is quite sad considering how she lost her eyesight when she was young. As a result, she can only imagine and dream of seeing the sky. The fact there's little chance she'll regain her sight somehow (unless something happens in the future) is what makes this line hurt the most.

Murro's wish is only for someone to remember him, which honestly is quite the implication of how he feels about himself and how he thinks others' feel about him. He's been through so much, losing his parents, then his ill treatment and abuse while he was kept by Bernard, to the point he simply wanted to get away from people and just be with his partner. It's that feeling he's given up hope, and the idea that this is all he thinks he's capable of hoping for... It's like he already thinks he has no future and nothing much to look forward to.

Wishes of people like Charles, Robbie, Joseph, Philip, Ithaqua, and Ivy are focused on the loss of those close to them, some of which are consumed by the guilt at their role in that loss or inability to prevent their death. Joseph especially has devoted the rest of his life to attempting to revive Claude, and has been incapable of ever having a single moment where he isn't thinking about his twin. It makes me think about what Michiko said regarding the bittersweetness of love, and how time marches on whether or not those we love are left behind. The important question being whether a person is capable of moving forward or will be stuck looking back, which is the whole theme with Orpheus.

Violetta's wish hurts me due to me reading into her line and feeling like she's referring to herself. And the idea that she's wishing there was someone out there who will love her, as her being abandoned by her parents, taken by Max who treated her like an object to attract attention to his freak show and earn him money, but once she no longer did, he disposed of her, leaving Violetta feeling unwanted. Despite what she's been through, she is still a kind and positive person, but even she has moments where she can't help but let slip hints about her true feelings.

Kevin of course has been and still is a very sad boy. He, like Joseph, has his thoughts forever stuck on the loved ones he lost. He is incapable of moving past Angelina's death, further compounded by his guilt regarding Angelina's father and the tribe. He is trapped by his guilt. It's the fact that Kevin refuses to forgive himself, blaming himself for everything that has happened, is why Kevin's wish hurts me so much.

Burke... I don't even know what to say. This was the 1 that I think hurt the most for a bunch of reasons that I don't quite know how to put to words. Netease, please stop trying to make me cry.

As for other wishes that caught my attention:

Mike's simple wish to bring joy to people and help them forget their troubles was curious, as I think it really helps give a better idea about him, considering he's someone I sometimes find tricky to figure out. His deductions depict him as pretty mischievious, especially with things like using rocks or nitrogen in his tricks. But then we get to the tragedy, and all we don't really get any more ... good descriptions from Mike himself as to how he is internally. Except for hints based on how he went to the morgue to confirm who was dead and who was missing. And then with his suspicion of (and disgust for) Margaretha, as well as Joker. His last deduction and backstory really emphasize that his singular goal is essentially revenge. Yet we learn in through the letters that he was unable to do so even when he's given the chance. This is why I at least personally appreciate this little detail about his interest in people's happiness and desire to fix all their problems. It helps put everything else in better perspective.

Vera's was mainly due to how she says it was "all worth it". This seems to confirm how she feels about her actions, despite the sorrow she describes in her 1st letter due to her own actions, and despite the reality of what she did. She continues to reason with herself that, despite the cost, it all worked out in the end. It could show just how broken she's become due to how she grew up due to her father and everyone looking down on her and treating her the way they did. It could show just how hard her heart has become as a result. But it's also possible to read this line as trying to convince herself to not regret. To not dwell on what she's done. To try to tell herself that it's ok, it's ok, it's ok. If this is true, whether or not she actually fully believes this attempt to reason with herself is a separate question.

Margaretha's further confirms the type of person she's in and the life she's interested in. She's still interested in luxury, she's still a bit vain, just like her personality info in-game states. However, what I was focused on was how she talks about having a stage "solely for me". This to me reads as she wants to be able to move forward and survive on her own without having to rely on others, like she did previously with Sergei, or how she's "exploiting" Joker. Which I think is a good development on her part, as I think it shows growth. It's something that may take time, but she's expressing determination to achieve this goal.

Martha was primarily of interest to me as, similar to Violetta, I read it as she was essentially referring to herself. It's a lament over the fact she has no place she sees as "home", and she doesn't even know who she is anymore. She's taken on too many identities, and gone through so much that she isn't sure who is the real her or if even if she does remember if it'll actually feel right to her anymore. She's lost and doesn't know how to find her way back on to the path. Her wish is a warning to others the way I see it, which is imporant considering what we learn happened with her in her game.

Sangria's I find curious as I never really thought about her like that, the idea that she wants to "prove [her] worth". It can make sense considering her backstory and deductions emphasize how badly she was treated by her father and the fact she was viewed as "less than a toy", as well as make sense based on whatever happened between her and the lady to cause Sangria to later ask to "get back on stage". I feel like this wish could potentially help understand some of what happens with her in her game...

Then there's Nightmare. Which to me feels... the strangest and almost out of place of any of the wishes. I'm still not quite sure about the real meaning behind it yet but it does make me think...

On that same tangent, I'll go to Orpheus next. Similarly, his line is quite interesting and will take me some time to really digest. The fact he speaks of wanting to reduce other people's regrets and give them "more favorable conclusions" to me is strange. Some of the stories he writes don't exactly feel like he's trying to give the people it's based on better "conclusions", nor does it feel like he's doing that with the participants of each of his games. Though looking at a different place, what he seems to be doing to Kevin in his 4th letter does feel like he's trying to manipulate Kevin's memories to make him think Angelina isn't dead. The entire truth of the goal of Orpheus' experiments and actions is still something I don't think we fully grasp yet. It's possible more is happening to the participants than we know (especially with how of them, or at least their bodies, are missing, and I still wonder about Yidhra's and Joseph's involvements, considering the Dreamlands or Joseph's photo world could potentially present Orpheus an opportunity to maybe give individuals a happier story if they are trapped there, especially with the memory drugs, but I'm still unsure about so much...).

Norton's wish is such a great but simple enough summary for his character. He's not asking to be rich. He's not asking for gold despite that's what he searched for in Golden Cave. He's not asking for anything in particular. All Norton cares about is having a "better" life. Something more than being trapped in poverty, with a job that could kill him at any time, and especially over time the longer he has it. He wants to not have to worry about starving all the time, or worry if he'll have a place to shelter for the night, or worry about cruel coworkers or employers, any other necessities he needs. We've seen that he isn't asking for anything fancy. He eats simple bread, and spends what little spare money he has on books and knowledge. He just wants enough so he'll never have to worry about going back to that life again.

Which is interesting when considering Fool's Gold's wish: "I've already dug my way out of fate's mine. Haven't I?". This to me sounds like he's trying to convince himself. He's desperately hoping he's finally escaped the mine, which he describes as "fate's" mine. This referencing his "fate" as a miner due to his father also being a miner. The fact he describes it as how he "dug my way out" is a way of showing how he's done everything himself. He was the one who's fought tooth and nail to get out of his situation, who's spent all his blood, sweat, and tears to originally just work hard enough to earn what he can, and then when that didnt work find another way, and when he was trapped in Golden Cave, how he literally dug his way out (which shows how badly he wants to live). "Fate" being a "mine" also has the symbolism of Norton originally seeing his fate as somethin dark, made by someone else who forced him into it, a place with little room to move full of many dangers, surrounded by many people who either treated him badly or only cared for themselves, and the only path forward led further and further down. This was why Norton wants to escape his fate, and why he's been so desperate to do anything he can if it means a way out. He wants a brighter fate, one not trapped underground, but a fate out in the open world where the sky is the limit. Unfortunately though, as we can see from the ending of Fool's Gold's wish, Norton isn't entirely convinced he's completely escaped his fate. Which is curious and I wish I could see the reasoning behind his thoughts. Is it because he's afraid he'll be caught for what he did? Is it because he's afraid he'll have to go back to the mine if he is unable to find any other way of making a living? Is it because of whatever happened while he was trapped in the mind that he's continuously referenced but never explained, that's lead to him being so deathly afraid of the place? Or does it have something to do with his current situation with Orpheus and whatever the order was in his 2nd letter? Considering this is the 2nd time we've seen Norton trying to convince himself but failing to do so completely by the end (the 1st time being in Norton's 2nd letter where he tries to convince himself to go through with the assassination order), I wonder if it's possible these 2 things could be related. Maybe he feels like or is starting to feel like his current situation is not any better than it was before when he was still a miner, or when he was trapped in Golden Cave. Which is curious as that seems to reinforce how we can't be completely sure what Norton will do in the final game, or what the full truth of his relationship with Orpheus, Alice, and the others is. It's also interesting this line comes from Fool's Gold, who also appeared in Norton's backstory trailer, before he causes Golden Cave to collapse. He's holding his head, and seemingly fighting with himself over whether he should do it or not. Hunter Norton seems to be a way of showing Norton's internal dilemma, his war with himself, with how Hunter Norton is likely symbolized in Norton's 2nd letter, and now again here when Norton's trying to convince himself that he's escaped his fate. But unlike the 1st time in the mine when Hunter Norton managed to win out and cause the mine collapse, these other 2 times haven't ended with a certain winner, which could show how Norton's changed or how he may not be willing to do the same thing again. But maybe I'm thinking too hard.

As for Jose, I wish I could understand him better. Despite how his father treated him, despite how he only cared about fame and fortune, despite how he was only ever concerned about looking good for the Queen and everyone he deemed important, Jose still wishes his "loved ones" to stay safe essentially. Who that would be besides his family I'm not sure. We never learn about his mother, and there's really no one else that could be outside of maybe some people he was friends with, though he specifically says "loved ones". We don't know if he was friendly with those on his crew, though we know at least some were of the same type of person as Jose's father based on Jose's deduction 7, while others died either when Jose's father vanished or during deduction 4. We now know he's tied in some way to Sam Bourbon but not the specifics of that relationship (how friendly were they?). Therefore, it's most likely he's referring to his father here. I wish I knew more about Jose's feelings and relationship with his father, considering deduction 7 and 8, as well as other bits don't exactly make Joaquin out to be a good person or see his son as anything but an object. But it's possible it was because Jose's father was the only family he ever had, and he simply wished he could've stopped him from doing what Jose didn't agree with and/or helped change him for the better.

[mafuyuslover]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

tattoo artist!xiao x florist!reader

byr: fluff , reader is gn , somewhat ooc xiao (?) i don't know

>> @1eaf-me-alone , i was your secret santa for the event hosted by @2024gisecretsanta , hope you'll enjoy !! (it's literally 3 am, and i need to go to sleep i sincerely apologize for any and all mistakes)

in truth, it seemed an unlikely pairing— he, a tattoo artist, immersed in the world of ink and skin; and you, a humble florist, surrounded by the delicate fragrances of petals and stems. yet despite the vast chasm between their trades, he found himself drawn, time and time again, to your flower shop. not for the blooms themselves, but for the simple, bright smile your face carried whenever he walked through the door.

with christmas fast approaching, your little shop was transformed, dressed in festive splendor. a tree stood in the corner, its branches twinkling with lights, while the soft glow of candles reflected in the delicate petals of flowers. he, on the other hand, was indifferent to such adornments— mere trinkets meant to be discarded once the season had passed. “a waste of money,” he would convince himself, though the truth of the matter lay in a deeper appreciation of beauty he would never admit.

the door’s bell jingled merrily as he entered, his presence as silent as the winter's chill. “merry christmas,” he greeted, his voice carrying little warmth, but still, it was a greeting.

you looked up, eyes alight with a warmth that could melt even the iciest of souls— and his was no exception. “merry christmas!” you replied joyfully, your voice as sweet as the song of a sparrow. “what can i do for you today?”

he glanced around, as if seeking something beyond the blooms, before his gaze fell upon the simple flower tucked in your hair. his eyes lingered, though he said nothing. meanwhile, you busied yourself with arranging a few things on the counter.

"what would you recommend?" he asked, his tone soft yet inquisitive, though his eyes never quite left you.

as you spoke, detailing the different flowers with a passionate enthusiasm, he was entranced not by the flora, but by you— the way your eyes sparkled with joy, the way your voice carried such a love for the florets. his heart, so often cold and distant, stirred in ways he could not quite name.

“these poinsettias,” you offered, presenting a vibrant bouquet. “they represent good will— perfect for the festive season.”

a quiet flutter stirred within him, a warmth he could not ignore. “perfect,” he murmured, his voice betraying a gentleness that few had ever heard.

as you wrapped the roses, your excitement bubbled forth. “christmas eve is tomorrow! i’m hosting a small gathering at my place. a few friends, a little music, maybe a dance or two. it’s going to be lovely.”

xiao, who was more accustomed to the solitude of his tattoo parlor than the clamor of celebration, found himself intrigued by the vision you painted. He could almost visualize you— laughter in your eyes, your friends gathered around, partying away as the flicker of firelight casted shadows in your home.

"sounds... lively," he admitted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, rare and fleeting.

in a moment of spontaneity, you spoke before thinking. “you should come! it would be nice to have someone new there.” it was only then you realized what you had said, your cheeks dusted a bright pink. then, as if to retract your words, you added, “of course, only if you'd want to.”

he arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “me?”

“yes!” you said with a laugh. “you could join us—if you'd like..”

for a long moment, xiao was silent, his gaze thoughtful. then, his lips parted as he mustered the courage to speak up. “i might just consider it,” he said with a soft smile that seemed to promise more than mere words.

—

and so it was, on christmas eve, xiao stood in your home, an outsider amidst the warmth of your circle. your friends were lively, filled with the spirit of the season, while you, ever the gracious host, moved about with a charm that left him speechless. he watched you, admiring the effortless way you engaged with others, your laughter rich and genuine, your clumsy attempts at dancing endearing.

as the evening wore on, the music softened, and the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. there, beneath the mistletoe, you caught his eye— a glint of mischief dancing in yours.

“merry christmas,” you whispered, the chill of the air mingling with the warmth between you.

in that quiet, suspended moment, xiao allowed his stoic facade to slip. slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss— gentle at first, but one that stirred something deep within him. a spark. a fire. it was a kiss that, like the rarest of flowers, bloomed in the coldest of seasons.

it was only after what felt like an eternity that you reluctantly parted your lips, your eyes meeting his in a shared gaze filled with unspoken affection. his fingers brushed against yours, tentative yet warm, until they gently intertwined, and you held his hand with a shy but heartfelt grip.

for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the rhythm of your breaths and the unyielding pull of your connection. he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with a mix of tenderness and mischief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

“you’re not what i expected,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, the honesty of your words filling the space between you.

“neither are you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. “but i think that’s what makes this feel so.. right.”

though your lives and personalities couldn’t have been more different, something about the difference made every touch, every look, every word shared feel extraordinary.

as his laugh mingled with your smile, the thought settled in your heart like the ending of a story you’d always wanted to live:

it is as they say, opposites really do attract.

goober

[loving-the-cambridges]

The Winter Rose Blooms

Summary: a renowned matchmaker, is tasked with finding a bride for Cody, the heir to the throne of the royal family on a snowy, idyllic planet far away in the galaxy. But while the reader is determined to fulfill her duty, she doesn’t expect to fall for Rex, the spare prince with a heart of gold and a penchant for mischief. As snow falls and the warmth of the season unfolds, love blooms where it’s least expected—proving that sometimes, the best matches aren’t planned at all.

A/N: This story was inspired by a Christmas movie I’d seen, and I thought it would be a lovely addition to the Clone Wars holiday stories out there. I wanted to blend the charm of royal romance with the rich camaraderie and emotional depth of the Clone Wars characters, creating something heartfelt and festive. I hope this brings a little joy and warmth to your holiday reading!

-----

Alderia hung in the vast tapestry of the galaxy like a jewel lost to time. Its beauty was so tangible it might have been carved by the hand of a benevolent god—so much so that travelers whispered of it as though it were myth. Planets in the Outer Rim were rarely spoken of with reverence, but Alderia was an exception.  

From orbit, its surface shimmered with life. Indigo oceans spread like veins, their depths glowing faintly under the light of its twin moons, Ceera and Lumar. Snow-draped mountains clawed skyward to the west, their jagged peaks sharp as blades forged by time. These were the **Jolaris Mountains**, home to valleys choked in mist and legends older than the Republic itself. Waterfalls crashed over cliffsides like liquid silver, feeding rivers that snaked their way down into the open arms of Alderia's vast countryside.

The countryside—The Naldorian Reach—unfurled endlessly, rippling with gold, green, and copper in the light of a low sun. Fields of fireflowers swayed like waves of flame, their petals casting a soft glow under the night. Here, farmers tended to crops that fed not just their planet but many others who came seeking Alderia’s bounty. Herds of **tarka**, long-horned creatures with coats of soft silver fur, grazed freely. Villages sprouted amidst the land like freckles, their cottages carved from smooth gray stone, smoke curling peacefully from their chimneys.  

To the south lay the **Ivaryn Seas**, sprawling sapphire waters where waves crashed against cliffs shaped by a millennia of tides. Ships from the far corners of the galaxy anchored here, their sails or thrusters spilling stories of distant systems. Markets brimmed with alien goods—rugs woven on Naboo, glittering crystals mined deep on Christophsis, and spices from the windswept plains of Tatooine. Valford Prime, the capital, sprawled in the planet’s heart—a city of bridges and canals, where modern steel and glass spires rose alongside mosaicked relics of a bygone age.

The people of Alderia were as colorful as their planet, a mosaic of cultures that had long made their home here. They came in pursuit of peace, a place unspoiled by galactic war or greed, and they stayed because Alderia embraced them as its own. Their tongues spoke many languages, their songs carried many traditions. And together, they loved their planet like a child loves its mother—fiercely, selflessly.

It was a place alive in a way the rest of the galaxy seemed to have forgotten.

---

On the highest balcony of Valford Prime’s royal palace, Jaster stood, his silhouette backlit by the rising sun. The crisp morning air rolled in from the Jolaris peaks, carrying the scent of pine, frost, and the delicate winter roses blooming in the gardens below. Jaster let his gaze drift across the world beneath him—the tapestry of mountains, plains, and seas spread out like a promise that no longer belonged to him.  

For all its splendor, Alderia felt quieter these days.  

The king’s fingers curled around the carved stone railing, his knuckles white for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to relax. He had been many things in his lifetime: a leader, a diplomat, a soldier in his youth—but never, not once, had he imagined becoming a father to five boys who were not his own.  

Jaster closed his eyes, and with the softness of morning came the memory.  

**Jango.**  

His son. His only child.  

It had been nearly two decades, but loss was a wound that time refused to stitch closed. *A shuttle accident*, they had told him, voices brittle with grief. Somewhere deep in the Jolaris range, a storm had come—sudden and ferocious—and Alderia’s skies had swallowed Jango whole. 

Jaster could still remember the sound of it. The palace had been filled with the silence of disbelief when they broke the news. He had stood in this very spot, the soft white petals of the winter roses fluttering like snow at his feet, and watched as the light drained from the world. *There were no survivors.*  

The boy who had once tugged at Jaster’s sleeves to ask about the galaxy’s endless stars, the boy who had loved the Naldorian fields in summer and the Ivaryn tides in winter—was gone.

Jaster hadn’t had the privilege of breaking down. No, he had been king, and kings were not allowed to fall apart. Not even when the palace halls echoed emptily, devoid of Jango’s laughter.  

Instead, he had been given **Cody, Rex, Fives, Echo, and Jesse**—Jango’s sons, the living pieces of a man taken far too soon. Jaster had buried his grief beneath the weight of a grandfather’s love, raising them not as heirs to a throne but as boys who deserved to be happy. They had become his solace, his redemption.  

Cody, the eldest, wore his crown of responsibility like a second skin. Rex, the second-born, with his disarming grin and glinting eyes, walked the line between playfulness and quiet longing. The twins, Fives and Echo, filled the palace with energy—always underfoot, always in trouble. And Jesse, the youngest, carried his father’s fire in his veins, a boy whose resolve burned brighter than any star.  

Jaster had given them everything. And yet—what kind of legacy had he built for them?

---

A soft knock broke the quiet. Jaster turned, regal in his bearing despite the wear that life had etched onto his face. The sun cast a faint golden glow across the silver in his hair, his blue eyes reflecting a wisdom hard-earned.  

“Your Majesty?”  

The aide bowed low, his tone quiet, respectful. “The matchmaker has arrived. She awaits you in the library.”  

Ah, yes. The matchmaker. A measure born of desperation.  

Jaster sighed softly, one hand smoothing down the front of his coat—a finely woven garment in royal indigo trimmed with silver thread. To an outsider, he looked every bit the monarch: commanding, poised, untouchable. But in the shadow of his sharp jawline lingered exhaustion that no cloak of dignity could quite disguise.  

He turned back once more to the balcony, to the world that stretched far beyond the palace walls. Alderia, his Alderia, had flourished under his rule. But peace, he knew, was fragile. The galaxy was changing. And for the good of the throne, for the future of his people, Cody needed a bride—a match worthy of Alderia’s weight.  

And so, he had called for the matchmaker.  

Jaster straightened, his spine as unbending as the mountains that guarded his kingdom. “I will meet her shortly.”  

The aide bowed again, retreating quietly, leaving Jaster alone once more.  

For a long moment, the king lingered, his gaze drifting back to the horizon where the snow-capped Jolaris Mountains kissed the sky.  

“Forgive me, Jango,” he murmured, his voice soft as the wind that swept over the balcony. “I do this for them.”  

The winter roses rustled faintly below, their pale petals gleaming against the frost-dusted ground.  

With a final breath, Jaster turned and strode back into the palace, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The weight of a king's duty was an old companion. And today, it would guide him once more.

****

The moment (Y/n) stepped onto the landing platform, the weight of Alderia hit her—not physically, but something deeper, a resonance in her bones, as though the planet itself whispered secrets into the chill air. The sky was a pale lavender, soft with the blush of morning, its twin suns still climbing beyond the horizon. Frost edged the paving stones in delicate patterns, shimmering under the orange glow of guiding lights. A cool wind swept across the platform, tugging strands of her dark hair loose from the elegant twist she’d fashioned earlier.

“Focus,” she told herself, clutching the leather strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder.

(Y/n) (Y/L/N) was no stranger to royal summons. Over the years, her work had brought her across countless systems, from the gilded halls of Serenno to the sunlit courts of Naboo. And while reputations varied from planet to planet, hers was solid. The matchmaker of the galaxy, they called her, though there was little romance in it. Matching was business—an art woven with precision, calculation, and a touch of intuition.

Yet Alderia felt... different. Its air carried an ancient weight, its silence deeper than she expected, as though the planet had stopped to watch her.

***

a man with sharp shoulders and a pinched expression. His uniform was immaculate—a deep indigo tunic lined with silver trim—and though his demeanor was courteous, he appraised (Y/n) with quick, analytical eyes.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said with a clipped nod. “The King awaits you.”

(Y/n) inclined her head politely, forcing herself to ignore the slight hitch in her chest. She had been briefed on King Jaster: widowed early, robbed of his only son, a ruler both beloved and distant. A man who had borne more loss than most could survive.

Still, standing here—before a palace of towering spires and ancient glass—it was impossible not to feel small.

As she was led into the main corridor, her breath caught.

***

The palace of Valford Prime was magnificent, but not in the way of grand and showy courts she had seen before. It was old, as though carved from the very mountains that loomed over it, a place built to last centuries. Smooth stone walls rose high above her, their surfaces interrupted by arches lined with mosaics—each a depiction of Alderia’s history. Fireflowers wove through the tiles like bursts of flame, their bright scarlet contrasting the muted greys and creams.

Beneath her feet, polished marble stretched out in soft hues of onyx and ivory, cool even through the soles of her boots. Chandeliers hung overhead, forged from glass and silver, casting warm pools of golden light onto the floor. The air smelled faintly of pinewood smoke and winter roses—subtle, familiar scents that spoke of comfort and care.

(Y/n)’s gaze moved to the stained-glass windows that framed the corridor. Each pane glowed softly with the light of morning, their surfaces painted with intricate scenes—warriors standing beside tamed tarkas, scholars presenting star maps, families gathered under twin moons.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unable to stop herself.

The attendant glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of approval hidden behind his professionalism. “Alderia has always valued its legacy.”

(Y/n) nodded, though something unspoken lingered in his words. A place so steeped in beauty, so carefully tended—what would happen to it if its legacy was left unfulfilled?

***

She was led through a series of adjoining halls, their silence punctuated only by the occasional hum of droids or the shuffle of guards shifting to attention. Her boots clicked softly against the marble, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

At last, the attendant paused before a grand wooden door. It was old, carved with swirling patterns of vines and blooming roses, the kind of artistry no one bothered with anymore.

“The king is within,” the attendant said, stepping aside.

(Y/n) swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Adjusting the collar of her deep emerald coat, she gave herself a moment to breathe, centering the cool calm she wore as armor. It was just another meeting—another royal court. Another job.

She stepped through the door.

***

Warmth greeted her first.

The library was a cathedral of wood and firelight, a room made of shadows and amber glow. Shelves of carved mahogany stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with tomes whose spines had been worn smooth by centuries of hands. A fire crackled low in a stone hearth to her left, the flames dancing as though pleased to have company. Its glow painted the dark green walls with flickers of gold, spilling light across a pair of leather armchairs positioned before it.

The room smelled of old parchment, leather, and pine smoke, with an undertone of something distinctly Alderian—a faint sweetness, perhaps from the roses (Y/n) had noticed earlier.

Then she saw him.

****

King Jaster stood near the fire, one hand resting on the back of an armchair as though he were only half-present in the room.

The man was every inch the ruler she’d been told to expect. Tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and a straight back that spoke of years spent wearing authority like armor. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face marked by both strength and sorrow—deep lines etched at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Yet there was something warm in those eyes, a glint of sharp intelligence softened by what might have once been humor.

For a man who had lost so much, Jaster still carried himself with a quiet kind of grace.

When he turned to face her fully, (Y/n) felt the weight of his gaze—not cruel, nor suspicious, but thoughtful, as though he were assessing not just who she was but what she carried with her.

“You are (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice deep, deliberate, yet not unkind. “The matchmaker.”

“I am,” she replied, offering a slight bow of her head. “Your Majesty.”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a vibroblade.

“I’ve heard of your reputation,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, laced with something she couldn’t yet name. “Your work has taken you to many worlds. Alderia is far from most of them.”

“I go where I’m needed.” (Y/n) straightened, meeting his gaze. “And I understand your need is urgent.”

Jaster’s lips twitched slightly, though it was not quite a smile.

“That remains to be seen.” He gestured toward the chair across from his own. “Please, sit.”

****

(Y/n) moved carefully, lowering herself into the chair, her posture poised. The leather creaked faintly beneath her, though the warmth of the fire softened the chill that had clung to her skin since she’d arrived.

Jaster sank into his own seat with a kind of weary elegance, his large hands resting on the arms of the chair. He studied her again—longer this time—his sharp blue eyes seeming to measure something deeper than the surface.

“And what do you know of Alderia, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/n) met his gaze, calm despite the tension crackling softly in the air. “I know it is a planet unlike most in the Outer Rim. It thrives because its people believe in its beauty, its harmony. I know that legacy matters here.”

“Legacy.” Jaster repeated the word slowly, as though tasting its edges. His gaze turned toward the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. “You understand, then, what is at stake.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she said gently.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and alive with unspoken things. Then, finally, Jaster leaned forward, his expression unreadable.

“Do you believe love can be found, Miss (Y/L/N)? Or is it simply a convenience we dress up in finer clothes?”

The question caught her off guard, though she didn’t show it.

She hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “I believe love is where it’s most unexpected. It is rarely found—it’s discovered.”

For a heartbeat, the fire crackled louder than the space between them. Then something shifted in Jaster’s expression—a faint softening, perhaps, though it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“Unexpected,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Finally, Jaster leaned back, his gaze settling on her once again.

“Very well, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “We shall see what it is you discover here.”

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The king’s words were not a dismissal, but they were far from a welcome.

This job—this planet—would be unlike any other.

And as she looked at the man before her, cloaked in firelight and the burden of his world, (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel it: the subtle, creeping certainty that Alderia had already begun to change her.

****

(Y/n) had always believed that a palace, no matter how grand, was not the heart of a world—its people were. Alderia, with its quiet beauty and timeless grace, had struck her deeply the moment she arrived, but the palace, however warm its firelight, still carried a weight she could not shake. She needed fresh air, needed to step out beyond the stone walls that hummed with centuries of whispers.

After unpacking her modest belongings in the chamber provided to her—a room lined with thick tapestries and velvet curtains that carried the faint scent of pine—(Y/n) changed into a more practical ensemble. She had traded her formal coat and boots for simpler attire: a dark cloak lined with fur at the collar, gloves to stave off the bite of winter, and soft leather boots that muffled her footsteps as she walked.

Slipping out of the palace had been easier than expected. The guards at the entryway, though vigilant, simply nodded respectfully as she passed. She had seen that nod before—a subtle acknowledgment of her position and, more importantly, a quiet curiosity. The matchmaker. A stranger.

The old town of Valford Prime welcomed her with open arms, though its embrace was brisk. The streets were alive in a way the palace could never be, bustling with the music of life—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they darted through narrow alleyways, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones. Above it all, twin moons Lumar and Ceera hung low, their pale glow softening the morning light.

***

The old town of Valford Prime was alive, its streets humming with a rhythm all their own—organic, vibrant, and timeless. The crisp winter air had settled into the crevices of cobbled lanes and market stalls, carrying the mingling scents of roasting nuts, fresh-baked bread, and something faintly floral. Overhead, narrow bridges connected weathered buildings, draped in vines hardened by frost, their windows aglow with amber light from within.

(Y/n) lingered at the edge of the square, letting the sounds and sights of this place wash over her. Markets like this were the pulse of any world, but here in Alderia, it felt different. Deliberate. Every moment was savored, every small interaction carried meaning, as though time itself bent to the will of the people.

She absently brushed her fingers over the pendant in her pocket—the winter rose carving gifted to her by the old vendor. Her heart had been warmed by the woman’s quiet reverence for the royal family, but it had also left her unsettled. The king’s grief hung over this planet like morning mist—something beautiful and tragic all at once. She wondered if his grandsons carried that same weight, if they felt the threads of history pulling tight against their every step.

***

The sound of laughter broke through her thoughts—a rich, rolling kind of laughter that came from the belly and pulled others along with it. (Y/n) turned toward its source, weaving through the throngs of market-goers until she spotted a heavy-set man behind a fruit stall. His skin was weathered bronze, his cheeks red from the cold, and his thick hands moved deftly as he peeled a citrus fruit the size of her fist.

“Oi, girl, you look lost!” he called to her with a voice as big as he was. “Or maybe you’re just trying to figure out how one fruit can look so strange.” He grinned and held up the half-peeled fruit, the vibrant orange skin spiraling down in one clean piece.

(Y/n) smiled, the man’s boisterous energy infectious. “I wouldn’t say lost,” she replied as she approached, tilting her head to examine the fruit. “Curious, perhaps.”

“Curious is good,” he said with a wag of his finger, “it means you’re alive. And on a cold day like this, I’ll take life over numb fingers any day.” He sliced off a chunk of the fruit and offered it to her on the flat edge of his knife. “Here. You can’t walk these streets without tasting them.”

(Y/n) hesitated only briefly before accepting the slice, her gloved fingers brushing the cool blade as she took it. The fruit’s juice burst across her tongue—bright, tart, and tangy, like sunlight distilled into flavor.

“That’s…” she paused, blinking in surprise. “Incredible.”

The man barked a laugh that startled a pigeon off a nearby ledge. “Alderian sunfruit, miss! They don’t grow anywhere else, no matter how hard those Coruscanti botanists try. You’ve got to let the soil sing to them.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. “And does the soil sing to everything here?”

“Everything and everyone,” the man replied, his tone softening. His jovial exterior gave way to something gentler as he wiped his hands on a cloth and leaned against his stall. “That’s why we love this place. Alderia’s got a heart, girl. It’s old, and it’s strong, and we listen to it when it speaks.”

(Y/n) watched him carefully, noting the way his hands stilled and his gaze drifted toward the palace spires visible in the distance. The king. She didn’t need to ask to know that was what he thought of.

“The royal family?” she prompted softly, her words barely more than a breath. “Do they listen too?”

The man straightened, his large frame suddenly still, as though he were measuring her. “The king has given more of himself to this place than most men could,” he said finally. “He’s loved it, fought for it, bled for it—and lost for it, too.” He nodded toward the palace, his eyes soft but resolute. “Jaster’s a good man. The kind you don’t see much of anymore. And the boys? Well, we see their father in them.”

“Jango,” (Y/n) murmured, almost to herself.

The man’s face softened further, and he nodded slowly. “Aye. He was a good lad—brash, brave, and full of fire. The twins take after him the most, you know. Always stirring trouble, but their hearts are in the right place.”

(Y/n) tucked that bit of information away carefully, feeling as though each word, each sentiment, brought her closer to understanding this family she had been tasked with helping. She thanked the man with a sincere smile and turned to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful with them,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul on their backs. They’re stronger than most, but even mountains crack under too much weight.”

***

approaching a small wooden stall draped in thick blankets of deep purple and teal. The vendor behind it was an older woman, her cheeks pink from the cold, her hands calloused and strong. A wooden carving of the Jolaris Mountains sat at the corner of the table, its edges smooth from being held. (Y/n)’s gloved fingers brushed it gently, tracing the peaks.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, smiling as she met the woman’s curious gaze. “You carved this?”

The woman tilted her head, clearly surprised to see someone like (Y/n) standing here—someone whose finely tailored cloak marked her as not local. Still, her expression softened into something kind.

“My grandson did,” she said, her voice husky with age but filled with pride. “He’s good with his hands, that boy. Learnt from his father.”

(Y/n) picked up the carving, its weight solid and grounding in her palm. “The Jolaris. They look so much more alive here than they do from the palace.”

The woman chuckled, a dry sound that seemed to carry centuries of wisdom. “The mountains were here before kings. They’ll be here long after. Carve them enough, you might just capture their spirit.”

(Y/n) smiled faintly, placing the carving back down. “How long have you lived here, in Valford Prime?”

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Born here, just like my mother and her mother before her. Never left Alderia, though my eldest has. Went offworld to Coruscant. Too noisy there for me, but she loves it.”

(Y/n) leaned forward slightly, as though the question might slip from her lips if she wasn’t careful. “And the king? What do you think of him?”

It was a bold question. Too bold, maybe. But (Y/n) had always believed the truth of a royal family lay with its people.

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her attention to the carving, running a finger along its edge. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a reverence tempered by understanding.

“King Jaster has seen more loss than most men would survive,” she said simply, looking up to meet (Y/n)’s gaze with eyes sharp as glass. “But he still stands. That’s no small thing.”

(Y/n) held her breath for a moment. He still stands.

“And his grandsons?” she asked, her tone gentler now, though she could feel the woman’s watchful gaze.

The woman’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “The boys are the heart of Alderia, even if they don’t know it yet. Cody carries the world on his back like his father. Rex? Well, he’s a storm—wild but good for the earth when he settles. The twins are trouble, but trouble’s not always bad, is it?” She chuckled to herself, her hands busily folding a thick blanket. “And Jesse—ah, the youngest has his father’s fire. That boy will burn bright when his time comes.”

Something in (Y/n)’s chest tightened as the woman spoke. There was no need to ask about their late father. Jango’s absence hung between the words unspoken, like a ghost that refused to rest.

****

(Y/n)’s steps were slower as she left the market square, her mind full. The fruit vendor’s words lingered in her thoughts, their simplicity carrying the kind of wisdom she had only ever found in people who lived close to the earth.

As she turned into a narrow alleyway, the scent of roasting chestnuts caught her attention. A small, sputtering fire crackled under an iron grate where an elderly man turned a pan slowly, humming a tune so low it blended with the pop of the coals. His clothes were rough, patched at the knees, and his cap was pulled low to shield his face from the cold. Yet his motions were unhurried, deliberate—as though each chestnut deserved his full care.

(Y/n) paused, her hands tucked into the warmth of her cloak. “That song,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “it’s beautiful. Where is it from?”

The man didn’t look up right away, his gnarled fingers moving with practiced ease. “Alderian lullaby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “My grandmother sang it to me when I was small.” Finally, he lifted his head, his sharp eyes—clouded slightly with age—fixing on hers. “You’re not from here.”

“No,” (Y/n) admitted softly, stepping closer as the fire cast flickering shadows on the alley walls. “I’m not.”

“And yet you ask questions like you wish you were,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as though peering into her. “Why?”

“I like to understand,” she replied. “People, places. The stories they carry.”

The man’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Stories are heavy things, girl. You best know what you’re asking to hold.”

(Y/n) felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air as she crouched beside the fire. “And what of the king’s story? Or his family’s?”

The man turned the pan once more, the flames licking at the edges. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you’ve seen it already.” He handed her a chestnut wrapped in a strip of cloth to protect her fingers. “Grief leaves marks on a man, but love does too. Jaster carries both. And those boys of his—” He paused, staring at the fire for a long moment, his voice dropping into something reverent. “They carry their father’s shadow like a torch. Bright and heavy.”

(Y/n) accepted the chestnut, its warmth spreading into her palm.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The old man gave her a slow, meaningful nod before turning back to his fire, the lullaby drifting up again like smoke curling into the sky.

***

“Here, miss,” the woman said suddenly, pulling (Y/n) from her thoughts. She held up a small, carved pendant—a tiny replica of the winter rose, smooth and delicate. “For you.”

(Y/n) blinked, startled. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense.” The woman pressed it into (Y/n)’s palm, her weathered fingers surprisingly gentle. “It’s a gift. A blessing, of sorts.”

(Y/n) closed her hand around it, the small carving warm from the woman’s touch. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words soft but heartfelt.

The woman nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. “The winter rose blooms when it’s least expected. You’d do well to remember that.”

(Y/n) stared at her for a long moment, something unspoken shifting in her chest.

***

As (Y/n) walked back toward the palace, her fingers brushed over the pendant in her pocket and the flower in the other. The stories she had gathered today weighed on her, pressing against her ribs like something alive.

The royal family carried the soul of this world, she realized. The people saw them not as rulers, but as guardians—as the stewards of something ancient and sacred. And yet, for all their strength, there was fragility in that reverence, a quiet fear that too much weight might cause even the strongest to crumble.

The thought unnerved her, and yet it made her purpose here clearer than ever. She would need to tread carefully—because the stories of Alderia were alive, and they were watching.

****

The morning sun streamed through the high-arched windows of the palace, gilding the stone floors in warm light as (Y/n) walked briskly down the east corridor. Her boots tapped lightly against the polished marble, the sound punctuating the low murmur of palace activity—guards shifting in their stations, the occasional scuff of servant footsteps, the faint clang of dishes being prepared in kitchens beyond the hall. She could smell freshly baked bread mixed with the sharp, clean scent of frost from the gardens beyond, a reminder of the world waiting quietly outside.

Despite the serene grandeur of her surroundings, her mind was far less settled. Her walk through the old town the day before still lingered in her thoughts—every word the locals had shared, every unspoken weight they had carried. The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul. She had begun to see why, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship with the people who spoke of their rulers with such reverence.

And today, she would meet the eldest of them—the weight bearer himself.

***

(Y/n) stood outside a set of ornate double doors, the dark wood carved with intricate patterns of twisting vines and winter roses. The library she had been ushered to yesterday seemed intimate in comparison. This room felt formal, imposing. A meeting chamber for royalty. She shifted her weight, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her sleeves, before straightening and raising her chin. Whatever she felt—curiosity, unease, determination—would stay locked firmly beneath the polished surface she wore so well.

A soft knock. The doors creaked open.

A steward gestured her forward, his tone courteous but impersonal. “The Crown Prince will meet you now.”

The Crown Prince. Just the title felt like a stone laid upon her chest, as though the man beyond this door was more responsibility than person. (Y/n) stepped inside.

***

The room was enormous, its high ceilings supported by stone pillars that swept upward like trees in an ancient forest. A long table stretched across the center, its surface immaculate save for a neatly arranged pile of star charts and datapads at one end. Pale curtains hung on either side of the tall windows, filtering sunlight until it cast faint gold patterns across the polished floor.

At the far end, near one of the windows, stood Cody.

(Y/n) recognized him instantly—not from photographs, but because he looked exactly as she imagined he would. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a kind of effortless authority that couldn’t be taught. He wore a high-collared tunic of deep navy and silver, the colors of Alderia, and his hair was neatly cut, though a faint line of stubble softened the sharp angles of his jaw.

He was not handsome in the way of effortless charm, as (Y/n) suspected Rex might be, but there was a gravity about him—something anchored and unyielding, as though he belonged to the very stone of the palace itself.

As she approached, Cody turned, his movements precise, controlled. His gaze landed on her, clear and cool as glass.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said. His voice was calm, even polite, but it carried an edge—like a door that wasn’t entirely open. “You’ve come early.”

(Y/n) offered a small, measured smile, hands clasped in front of her. “A good matchmaker learns to value time, Your Highness.”

The faintest flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Cody’s face before it was gone. He nodded to the steward, who gave a bow and silently exited the room, leaving them alone.

“Please.” Cody gestured to a small sitting area by the window where two chairs and a low table waited. “Sit.”

****

(Y/n) took her seat with practiced poise, watching Cody as he moved to sit across from her. He lowered himself into the chair with a sense of measured purpose. It struck her then that everything about him—the way he stood, the way he moved, even the way he sat—was deliberate, as though he had rehearsed every step of his life.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Cody looked at her, not coldly, but with the unblinking focus of someone who was used to examining others. It wasn’t a cruel stare, but it wasn’t kind either. It was… neutral.

“Do you enjoy your room?” he asked finally, the words careful, almost perfunctory.

“Yes, thank you,” (Y/n) replied. “It’s beautiful. I walked the old town yesterday as well. Your planet—your people—are extraordinary.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Cody’s tone was light, but the faintest edge of skepticism brushed against it, as though he were testing her.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was listening.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, though he hid it well. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough for her to notice. “Listening?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice calm, steady, though she chose each word deliberately. “I find that people tell you the most important things when you listen—not just to what they say, but how they say it.”

“Is that how you work?” Cody asked, his gaze steady. “You listen and decide who fits where?”

There it is. The resistance she had expected, the skepticism carefully veiled behind civility. She leaned forward slightly, holding his gaze. “I don’t decide anything, Your Highness. I find connections. The decision is yours.”

His mouth quirked faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” (Y/n) said honestly, letting a hint of warmth into her tone. “But neither is ruling a planet, I imagine.”

For the briefest moment, (Y/n) thought she saw a flicker of something real—a weariness that lived beneath his armor—but it disappeared almost instantly. Cody shifted slightly in his chair, straightening, his posture becoming even more rigid.

“I’ll be candid, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice cool. “I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

(Y/n) blinked, the words settling like stones in her chest. “I understand. But you must know why I’m here.”

Cody’s jaw tightened faintly, and his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the light caught on the snowy peaks of the Jolaris Mountains, and for a moment, he seemed far away. “I know why he brought you here,” he murmured. The way he said it—he—was laced with quiet frustration, though there was no disrespect in it.

“The king,” (Y/n) said softly.

“Yes.” Cody’s gaze snapped back to her, sharp and unwavering. “I know my duty. I’ve known it since I was a child. But I have no interest in parading myself for your lists and your calculations.”

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten, though she refused to let it show. Instead, she smiled—gently, without condescension. “I don’t think you are a man who would ever parade himself, Your Highness.”

That caught him again, though he masked it quickly. For a heartbeat, the two of them simply looked at one another, the quiet stretching like a rope pulled taut. Cody was not unkind, nor was he arrogant—but there was a wall around him, thick and unyielding, built from years of expectation.

***

Finally, he stood, smoothing his hand over the edge of his coat. “I’ll cooperate with my grandfather’s wishes,” he said, his tone measured once more. “But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

(Y/n) rose as well, meeting him at eye level, her expression calm but unwavering. “I never expect anything, Your Highness. I observe. And I listen.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether her words carried sincerity or cleverness. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Good day, Miss (Y/L/N).”

With that, he turned, his footsteps firm and deliberate as he strode toward the door. (Y/n) let out a slow breath as the latch clicked shut behind him.

The meeting had not been unkind, but it had left her unsettled. Cody was not a man who would ever allow himself to be easily understood, and yet, beneath his quiet resistance, (Y/n) could feel it: the weight of duty pressing against him like stone.

She looked out the window to the Jolaris peaks, watching the sunlight spill across their icy crowns, and wondered how long even a man like Cody could carry such a burden alone.

****

The meeting with Cody lingered in (Y/n)’s mind like a splinter she couldn’t remove. The prince had been courteous, polite even, but distant in a way that left her feeling like a mere afterthought in his day. There had been no warmth to his words, no openness to his gaze—just walls, high and unyielding, built brick by brick from a lifetime of expectation.  

Still, she couldn’t be angry. How could she? Cody wasn’t dismissive out of cruelty but necessity. Duty had shaped him into a man who wore his responsibility like armor, polished to perfection but heavy to bear. *The weight of a crown isn’t always gold,* she thought, as she let her feet carry her down the wide palace hallways.

The corridor she wandered into now seemed different—quieter, with an air of reverence. The faintest echo of her footsteps traveled down the stone walls, and she slowed her pace, the silence urging her to tread softly. This part of the palace, it seemed, belonged to memories. 

***

Paintings lined the walls, gilded frames glowing faintly in the golden light spilling through tall, arched windows. Each canvas was a piece of history frozen in time—kings and queens of Alderia, some stoic, others kind, their eyes following her as she passed. The faces seemed alive, as though they were watching her closely, curious about this stranger who dared walk their halls.

(Y/n) stopped in front of one particular painting. It was a portrait of a young man with blue-gray eyes and a confident, roguish smile. His dark hair was swept back in a way that suggested he hadn’t cared too much for formality. He wore a prince’s coat—rich navy blue, lined with silver—but the way he slouched just slightly told her that the man beneath the clothes had been carefree.  

“Jango,” she whispered under her breath, as though the name might summon the man himself. It had to be him; the resemblance to the current princes was unmistakable.  

Her gaze softened as she took in every detail of the painting, from the hint of mischief in Jango’s smirk to the worn edge of a leather glove on his left hand. *A man who was never meant to be still,* she thought, *and yet here he is.* She wondered how much of him remained in his sons—how much of that fire had been inherited.

She sighed softly, feeling that familiar knot of responsibility tug at her chest. This family, this planet—it was all so much larger than what she could see. And yet here she was, standing in the middle of it.

“Admiring the handsome ones, are we?”

***

The voice broke through the quiet like a spark, warm and teasing, startling (Y/n) just enough that she turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.  

There, leaning lazily against the stone archway she’d just passed, was **Rex**.  

For a moment, (Y/n) could only blink, as though the man before her had been conjured straight from the painting. He looked startlingly like Jango, though his face was less polished—his jaw was scruffed with golden stubble, and his blond hair was unruly, strands falling stubbornly over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as though the weight of the world that sat so heavily on Cody’s shoulders didn’t exist here. 

And then there were his eyes—blue-gray like a stormy sea, alive with something (Y/n) couldn’t name.  

“Forgive me,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light filtering through the window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your staring contest.”  

(Y/n) found her voice, though it came out more measured than she intended. “I wasn’t staring. I was… observing.”

The corner of Rex’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile, one brow arching in obvious amusement. “Observation looks a lot like admiration from where I’m standing.”

(Y/n)’s lips pressed together, though she couldn’t help the hint of color that warmed her cheeks. “And you are…?”

He grinned wider at that, as though enjoying her reaction. “I’m Rex,” he said simply, inclining his head in a mock bow. “Second-born spare to the throne of Alderia, expert at sneaking out of meetings I don’t want to attend, and—apparently—the cause of your current blush.”

(Y/n) straightened, smoothing her hands over her cloak as though brushing away the fluster she felt bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “I wasn’t blushing.”

“You’re blushing now,” Rex said, his tone teasing but gentle, his gaze lingering on her face as though he were memorizing it.  

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. “And I wasn’t staring at you either. I was looking at the painting.”

“Of my father.” Rex’s voice softened just slightly at the mention of Jango, his teasing tone taking on something quieter. (Y/n) glanced up, noticing the way his gaze flicked briefly to the portrait behind her, his smile dimming ever so slightly.  

“Yes,” she said softly. “He seems… remarkable.” 

Rex’s gaze lingered on the painting a moment longer before he looked back at her, his smile returning, though this time it carried something softer—something real. “He was.”

There was a pause—long enough for (Y/n) to feel the air shift between them, subtle but certain. She hadn’t expected this—a meeting so unguarded, so unexpectedly *personal.* For all Rex’s casual charm, there was something in his eyes that she recognized: a quiet depth, a place where lightness gave way to something unspoken.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Rex said finally, breaking the moment but not the connection. “You’re not palace staff, and you don’t look like one of Cody’s political friends.” He tilted his head, curiosity shining through. “Who are you?”

(Y/n) hesitated, feeling that this moment���this first impression—was delicate. It was rare to meet someone who didn’t immediately view her as *the matchmaker*. Rare to meet someone who simply saw her.

“My name is (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” she said carefully, holding his gaze. “And you’re right—I’m not political. I’ve been brought here to… assist.”  

“With what?”

“Your brother.”  

Something flickered across Rex’s face—surprise first, then understanding. His grin returned, slow and unmistakable. “Ah, so you’re the *matchmaker.*”  

The word sat between them, heavy and familiar, but Rex said it without mockery. If anything, there was a hint of intrigue in his tone, as though she’d just become far more interesting.  

(Y/n) nodded, though her expression stayed composed. “I am.”

Rex crossed his arms loosely, one brow arching again. “And how’s that going for you so far?”

(Y/n) allowed herself a small smile, though her thoughts returned to her meeting with Cody—the walls, the formality. “It’s… early.”

Rex chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, as though she’d said something funny without intending to. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”  

“You didn’t have to.” He grinned again, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Cody’s about as easy to talk to as a stone wall, but you’ll get used to him. He’s a good man under all that steel.”

(Y/n) felt a faint tug at the corner of her mouth. “You say that like you’re nothing like him.”

“I’m not,” Rex said with a shrug. “At least, not on the surface.”  

The way he said it made her pause. It was casual, dismissive almost, but (Y/n) could feel the truth woven into it. For all his lightness, for all his charm, there were pieces of Rex that ran far deeper than he let on.

***

Silence settled between them again—not awkward, not tense, but *there*. (Y/n) felt it in her chest, a kind of awareness she couldn’t explain. She studied Rex’s face as though searching for something unspoken, and for a moment, she thought he might be looking for the same in her.  

“Well,” Rex said finally, breaking the quiet with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to observing things that aren’t me.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes softly, though her smile lingered. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Anytime.” Rex took a step back, but his gaze lingered on her, his expression thoughtful in a way she hadn’t expected. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and disappeared around the corner, his footsteps soft but steady.

***

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gaze drifted back to Jango’s painting, but the man in the portrait felt less like the focus now.  

Instead, it was Rex’s face—his grin, his eyes, the way he looked at her like he’d seen something worth remembering—that stayed with her.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something shift within herself, subtle but certain—like the first flake of snow before a storm.  

***

### **The Ballroom of Invitations**

The sun dipped low in the Alderian sky, pouring golden light through the palace’s tall, arched windows. (Y/n) sat at a wide desk positioned in one of the palace’s grand halls, a makeshift workspace surrounded by towering shelves of tomes and thick velvet drapes. The room itself had been transformed under her hands: holoscreens hovered in mid-air, glowing softly as they displayed dossiers, planetary maps, and cultural breakdowns. A meticulous array of datapads sat in perfect order on the desk, alongside a steaming cup of tea now long forgotten.

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over her list, her stylus tapping rhythmically against the desk. The names, their titles, their descriptions—it was all beginning to blur together, but she couldn’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.  

The day had been relentless. Invitations had to be sent across Alderia and beyond: noble daughters from the sprawling estates in the Naldorian Reach, princesses from neighboring systems, and heirs from dignified lineages in far-off star clusters. She’d read through their profiles, cross-referenced family reputations, and considered how they might fit into Alderia’s unspoken rhythm. She had no intention of bringing anyone here who couldn’t understand this place—this *weight.*  

And yet, as she set down the stylus and pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaustion began to settle into her shoulders. The names were only words on a page, and despite her experience—despite her confidence in her ability—she felt a strange unease. *How do you find someone to fit a man like Cody,* she wondered, *when the walls around him are stronger than steel?*  

The room’s silence was punctuated only by the occasional hiss of a hovering holo shutting itself down as she dismissed the final dossier for the day. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, the last light of day painting the room in fiery hues of orange and gold. She had done her part. Tomorrow, the nobles and dignitaries would begin arriving, and the task of introductions would begin.  

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps cut through the quiet.

(Y/n) turned instinctively, her hand lowering from her face as a familiar voice echoed across the marble floor.  

“Well, would you look at this,” Rex drawled, his tone light, teasing, but edged with something more curious. “I thought this was the ballroom. Turns out it’s just the nerve center of a galactic operation.” 

(Y/n) sighed softly, though she couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips as Rex stepped further into the room. He wasn’t wearing the finely tailored uniform she’d seen on him yesterday. Instead, he wore something softer—a loose navy tunic rolled at the sleeves and dark trousers, an outfit that made him look far less like a prince and far more like a man at ease with himself. His golden hair was still a mess, as though he’d run his fingers through it carelessly, and his ever-present half-smile suggested that he was always on the brink of mischief.  

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” (Y/n) asked, leaning back slightly as Rex perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, completely unbothered by the papers and datapads spread across its surface.

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered, tilting his head. His gaze lingered briefly on the organized chaos of her work before settling back on her face, sharp and curious. “But judging by all of *this,*” he gestured vaguely to the glowing holoscreens, “it seems you’ve already taken over half the palace.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “It’s called preparation. You should try it sometime.”

“Preparation,” Rex repeated, as though testing the word, before shaking his head with a grin. “I prefer improvisation. It’s more fun.”

“I’m sure your tutors loved that.”

“Oh, they adored me,” he replied, his tone deadpan but his grin widening when (Y/n) huffed a soft laugh. “I was their favorite.” 

“Of course you were,” (Y/n) murmured, shaking her head as she began to straighten a few of the datapads before her. She felt Rex watching her, though not in a way that unsettled her. It wasn’t the kind of assessing gaze she had encountered so many times before—calculating, cold, expecting something of her. No, Rex’s gaze was warm, curious, as though he was looking for something *real* in her.  

“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer this time. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone push this hard since Cody spent a month reorganizing the kingdom’s census data.”

(Y/n) paused, her fingers brushing over the edge of a datapad as she glanced up at him. “It’s important work.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rex replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “But it’s also going to be here tomorrow, and the day after that. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a break.”

(Y/n) arched a brow, though her voice remained measured. “And I suppose you’re here to offer one?”

“Exactly.” Rex pushed himself off the table with the easy grace of someone who had never felt out of place in his own skin. “Consider me your palace guide.”

“My *what?*”

“Palace guide,” he repeated, as though the term were perfectly obvious. “You know, someone to show you all the things you’re missing while you’re busy playing matchmaker.” He grinned as he stepped closer, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. “You’ve seen the ballroom. You’ve seen the library. But have you seen the royal snowball arsenal?”  

(Y/n) blinked. “The what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his grin widening as though he enjoyed her confusion. “It’s top-secret, of course. State-of-the-art construction, unparalleled in firepower. Only the bravest souls dare wield its might.”

(Y/n) stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. “You’re joking.”

“I’m *serious*,” Rex replied, his voice low and dramatic, though his eyes sparkled with laughter. “It’s a critical part of the palace defenses during winter. You never know when an ambush might occur.”

Against her better judgment, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble in her chest—a soft, genuine sound that startled her as much as it seemed to please Rex. “I highly doubt that’s on the palace schematics.”

“That’s because I built it myself,” he said proudly, before extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’m not letting you spend another minute in here surrounded by datapads and dead nobles.”  

(Y/n) hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and her work. For a moment, she considered refusing. There were still messages to send, details to finalize, and she didn’t have the luxury of—  

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rex said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s just a walk. A little break from the world you’re trying to fix.”

His words settled in her chest, and suddenly, the decision didn’t seem quite so difficult. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her chair and smoothed her cloak, trying not to let him see the small smile pulling at her lips.  

“All right,” she said finally, meeting his gaze. “But if this so-called arsenal doesn’t exist—”

“You’ll never trust me again,” Rex finished with a grin, his voice warm and teasing as he gestured for her to follow. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

(Y/n) shook her head softly, though there was no hiding the faint amusement tugging at her mouth as she followed him toward the hallway.  

She didn’t know what it was about him—this prince who didn’t act like a prince—that unsettled her in ways she couldn’t explain. There was something light about him, as though he carried the weight of the world differently than anyone she had ever met. He made her forget, for just a moment, the impossible task waiting for her tomorrow.

(Y/n) walked alongside Rex through the winding palace halls, her footsteps quick as she tried to match his longer strides. There was something carefree about him, a quiet confidence that made her feel both at ease and on edge all at once. The grandness of the palace around them seemed less imposing with him beside her, the cold stone softened by his lighthearted presence.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/n) said after a moment, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

Rex turned to glance at her, his mouth quirking upward into a playful smile. “I thought I did. The royal snowball arsenal.”

(Y/n) sighed, though it wasn’t an exasperated sound so much as it was one of reluctant amusement. “You do realize I don’t believe a word of this, right?”

“Trust me, it’s real,” Rex said, his tone mock-serious as they passed yet another corridor. “But before we get there, we have to pass through… enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory?”

Rex’s eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief as they turned a corner into a long, airy hallway. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, catching the frost-rimmed edges of the glass. Tapestries swayed slightly as cold drafts snuck in through unseen cracks. Something in the air felt... alive.  

(Y/n) slowed slightly, her gaze shifting warily from side to side. “What do you mean by—”

The words hadn’t fully left her mouth before a snowball, perfectly round and startlingly fast, flew from nowhere and hit Rex square in the shoulder.  

“Ambush!” Rex shouted dramatically, staggering back with a hand pressed to his chest as though mortally wounded. “(Y/n)! They’ve got me!”

(Y/n) blinked, wide-eyed, before another snowball arced toward her. She barely managed to duck in time, her heart skipping a beat as it smacked into the wall with a dull thud.  

“Oh, no,” Rex groaned, still clutching his chest in exaggerated agony. “It’s worse than I thought. The twins are here.”

“The what—”

“Boys!” Rex suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “This is treason! You’re attacking a guest of the palace!”

Laughter, wild and unrepentant, rang out from somewhere above. (Y/n) tilted her head back, searching for its source, and spotted two identical faces peering down from a narrow ledge built into the wall near the ceiling. Both grins were identical—a mix of childlike glee and calculated mischief that only the truly confident could pull off.

“*Treason*?” one of them called back, his voice rich with laughter. “Oh, come now, Rex. That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Only *you* would call it dramatic, Fives,” Rex muttered, brushing snow from his shoulder with a sigh.  

The other twin elbowed his brother lightly, smirking down at (Y/n). “You’re missing the important detail. Who’s this, Rex? She looks… suspiciously dignified for your company.”

(Y/n), who had been frozen in surprise, blinked at the pair of them. They were younger than Rex, perhaps early twenties, with sharp features softened by their shared mischief. Where Rex had golden-blond hair, theirs was a darker shade, more brown with hints of copper that caught the light. And though they were identical in face and voice, there was something subtly different about the way they carried themselves—Fives, the louder of the two, had a sharper edge to his grin, while the other, Echo, watched her with an assessing curiosity that didn’t quite match his brother’s antics.

“I’m (Y/n),” she said finally, brushing a stray snowflake off her coat. “The… matchmaker.”

The twins froze for half a second before Fives barked out a laugh. “The *what*?”

“You heard her,” Rex cut in dryly, crossing his arms as he looked up at them. “She’s here to find Cody the perfect bride.”

Fives groaned dramatically, flopping forward over the ledge so that his arms dangled down. “Poor Cody. He’ll have to practice smiling again.”

Echo shoved Fives’ shoulder, though he smirked faintly. “Ignore him. You’ll find he has a unique talent for talking nonsense.” 

“Unique *and* unmatched,” Fives added smugly, pushing himself upright. “Now, (Y/n)—did Rex tell you about the snowball arsenal? Because you’re standing in it.”

(Y/n) turned sharply to Rex, raising an eyebrow. “This is the arsenal?”

Rex shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Technically, it’s their arsenal. I just like to call it mine.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, Fives lobbed another snowball down, this time aiming for Rex’s head. Rex sidestepped smoothly, the snowball smacking harmlessly into the floor with a wet splat.  

“*Missed.*” Rex smirked, shaking his head as though deeply disappointed.  

“Coward,” Fives retorted. “You’ll have to come up here and fight us properly!”

Echo leaned over the edge, his sharp gaze landing on (Y/n) again. “Unless you’d like to join our side, Miss Matchmaker. Rex tends to lose these battles.”  

(Y/n) looked from one twin to the other, still processing the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, standing in a centuries-old palace, being ambushed by two grown men who looked as though they’d never left their boyhood antics behind. Yet instead of annoyance, she felt the laughter bubbling inside her again—unexpected, uncontrollable.

“This…” she said slowly, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips, “might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Fives grinned triumphantly. “And the most fun, I bet.”

Rex sighed, though (Y/n) saw the way his own mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile. “Congratulations,” he called up to them, his voice dry. “You’ve scared away the matchmaker. Now she’ll run back to the library and tell Cody he’s doomed.”

“Oh, we *like* her,” Fives said, nudging Echo. “She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Echo nodded once, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with mischief. “Be careful, Miss (Y/n). Rex has a habit of pulling people into trouble.”

(Y/n) glanced at Rex, who was now watching her with his arms still crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Rex said smoothly. “They’re just jealous because I’m taller.”

Fives’ outraged “*What?!*” was followed immediately by Echo’s bark of laughter, but (Y/n) didn’t hear it. Her gaze was still on Rex, who was watching her in that same way he had in the hallway the day before—curious, almost searching. It made her stomach flip, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Come on,” Rex said after a beat, offering her his arm as though nothing had happened. “Let’s get out of the line of fire before they bring in reinforcements.”

(Y/n) hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand through his arm. The action felt natural, though it startled her how *easy* it was to be around him.  

“They’re not what I expected,” she murmured as they walked away, the twins’ laughter echoing behind them.

Rex chuckled softly. “They never are.”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her smile softening. “And what about you, Rex? Are you what people expect?”

Rex looked down at her, his grin faltering for just a moment before returning—softer this time, but not insincere. “Depends on who’s asking.”

(Y/n) said nothing to that, though her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it needed to.

And neither of them noticed the twins watching from above, their eyes sharp and knowing as they disappeared back into their hiding place.

****

The days fell into an intricate rhythm, one that (Y/n) hadn’t anticipated but found herself adapting to with startling ease. The weight of her work—the lists, the arrangements, the schedules—had grown heavier as the reality of what lay ahead came into sharper focus. In four weeks, the palace would host the grand Christmas ball. The event wasn’t just a glittering celebration; it was a turning point, a moment where the crown prince of Alderia would dance with his possible future bride.

(Y/n) had reviewed the guest list over and over again—princesses, noblewomen, heirs from far-reaching systems. Their faces were etched into her memory, their histories neatly filed away in her mind. Soon, she would meet them in person, would usher them into carefully curated sessions designed to test compatibility, poise, and connection. It was the kind of meticulous work she was accustomed to, the kind that required focus, control, and precision.

But her carefully structured days were being sabotaged. And it was entirely Rex’s fault.

***

(Y/n) leaned over her desk, a furrow creasing her brow as she moved small holocards into neat rows. Each card bore the name of a potential candidate, along with her respective lineage, planetary origin, and other relevant details. The sunlight streaming through the wide window nearby highlighted her deliberate movements—the press of her fingertip against the hovering cards, the slow nod as she considered placements.

“Focused, aren’t we?”

(Y/n) jumped, the voice pulling her sharply out of her thoughts. She turned to find Rex leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, his grin unabashed. He was dressed in another simple tunic, this one the color of deep wine, his sleeves pushed up as if to deliberately resist the palace’s insistence on formality. His blond hair was as unruly as ever, as though he’d ridden through a windstorm and hadn’t bothered to fix it.  

“Rex,” (Y/n) sighed, straightening slowly as she tried to school her expression into one of neutrality. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you mumble to yourself about someone named Lady Arla and decide that you need rescuing.” He pushed off the doorway, his boots making a soft sound against the marble floor as he approached.

“I don’t need rescuing.” (Y/n) turned back to her holocards, pretending to be entirely unfazed. “I’m working. You should try it sometime.”

He gave a mock gasp of offense, pressing a hand to his chest as though wounded. “I *do* work. I’m a vital member of this palace.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though a smile threatened to tug at her lips. “Vital for causing chaos, perhaps.”

“Ah, you *do* see my value,” Rex said, grinning as he stepped closer to her desk and leaned forward, peering at the hovering cards with mock interest. “Who’s this? Lady Talia of Serenno?” He prodded at one of the holos, tilting his head. “She looks very… composed.”

“Rex,” (Y/n) warned, though her voice lacked any real bite. She reached to swipe his hand away, but he was faster, sliding the card to the side like a mischievous child.  

“Do you know what you need?” Rex asked, straightening up and turning to face her. His blue-gray eyes gleamed with a spark that made her wary. “A break.”

“I don’t have time for a break,” (Y/n) replied firmly, her hand hovering mid-air as she tried to re-organize the cards. “The Christmas ball is in four weeks, and everything must be perfect.”

“Perfect can wait an afternoon,” he shot back easily, moving to stand between her and her work. “And besides, you’ll work better if you clear your head. I’m taking you to the royal sledding races.”

(Y/n) blinked at him, confused. “The what?”

“Sledding races,” Rex repeated, grinning like a man who had already won. “It’s tradition. Every year around Christmas, we—meaning me, the twins, Jesse, and occasionally Cody—risk life and limb to see who can hurtle themselves down a hill of packed snow the fastest.”

“That doesn’t sound like a royal tradition,” (Y/n) said dryly, folding her arms.

“It’s *our* tradition,” Rex countered, his grin softening slightly. “It started when we were boys, back when Grandfather let us run wild in the snow. Now, it’s a matter of pride.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You’re coming,” Rex said simply. “As my sledding partner.”

(Y/n) gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Rex leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “If you say yes, I promise to leave your work alone for the rest of the day.”

(Y/n) hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “The rest of the *day*?”

Rex held up his hands, mock-serious. “Scout’s honor.”

(Y/n) sighed, her resolve softening under the sheer weight of his persistence. “Fine. But if I fall off whatever contraption you’re calling a sled, I’ll blame you.”

“Deal,” Rex said cheerfully, already turning toward the door. “Come on, matchmaker. We’ve got a hill to conquer.”

***

The cold hit her first. Crisp and sharp, it nipped at (Y/n)’s cheeks and nose as Rex led her outside onto the sprawling palace grounds. Snow blanketed everything—thick, pristine, and sparkling under the pale light of the Alderian sun. The gardens, so carefully tended, had transformed into a winter wonderland, their fountains frozen into sculptures of ice.

In the distance, (Y/n) spotted a wide hill sloping down toward the forest edge. Its surface had been packed down and smoothed by use, with a handful of sleds—sleek wooden contraptions reinforced with metal runners—lined up at its crest.

Rex led her up the hill, his boots crunching rhythmically through the snow. “All right,” he said once they reached the top, turning to gesture grandly at the sleds. “Behold the crown jewel of Alderian winter sports.”

(Y/n) glanced down the slope and felt her stomach drop. “That looks… steep.”

“Steep makes it fun.” Rex grinned, grabbing one of the sleds and dragging it closer. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” (Y/n) asked skeptically, though there was no real resistance in her voice. “That’s asking a lot.”

Rex’s expression softened, though his grin didn’t fade entirely. “You’ll see.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, a shout echoed up from the base of the hill. She turned to see **Fives and Echo** standing in the snow, already halfway down the slope, waving up at them with wild enthusiasm.  

“You’re late, Rex!” Fives called, his voice carrying easily across the open air. “We’ve already claimed victory!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rex called back, grinning as he crouched to position the sled. He looked up at (Y/n), extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’ll steer.”

(Y/n) hesitated, the wind tugging gently at her cloak as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes—something warm, inviting, and completely unguarded—that made it impossible to say no. With a small sigh, she knelt beside him and carefully settled onto the sled, clutching the edge with both hands.

Rex leaned closer, his voice low in her ear. “Hold on tight.”

She barely had time to process the words before the sled lurched forward, the runners gliding smoothly against the packed snow. The wind roared past her ears as they gained speed, the world blurring into a rush of white and blue. (Y/n)’s heart leapt into her throat, and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

Then—she laughed.

It bubbled out of her, wild and breathless, a sound that surprised even her as it mingled with Rex’s whoop of triumph. Snow sprayed up around them as the sled tore down the hill, the cold biting at her skin, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, she felt *alive*—as though all the weight she carried had been lifted and scattered to the wind.

At the bottom of the hill, Fives and Echo were waiting, already in the midst of building an impromptu snow barricade. (Y/n) stumbled off the sled, breathless, her cheeks flushed from laughter and cold. Rex stood beside her, grinning, his blond hair dusted with snow.

“You’re smiling,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

(Y/n) blinked up at him, surprised. “I suppose I am.”

High above them, standing at one of the palace windows, **Cody** watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, but his expression was no longer guarded. A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth, his gaze lingering on Rex and (Y/n) as they laughed in the snow. He said nothing, but there was an understanding in his eyes—a quiet recognition of something beginning to bloom.  

He turned away from the window and walked back into the shadows of the palace, his thoughts unspoken, his smile lingering.

Outside, (Y/n) brushed snow from her coat, still breathless as Rex grinned down at her.  

“Ready for another run?” he asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, though her smile remained. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Rex replied, his gaze softening, “here you are.”

Neither of them noticed the way the sun, low on the horizon, painted the snow gold—its light casting long shadows as the day slowly slipped toward evening.

***

The palace was quieter now, its wide corridors muffled by the weight of the morning’s efforts. (Y/n) sat at the far end of the grand dining hall, a quiet corner where no one had yet noticed her absence. The rest of the room still hummed with quiet conversation, the noblewomen and visiting princesses seated in neat rows of polished chairs, sipping delicately at their drinks and speaking in hushed tones that bordered on polite gossip.

Twenty introductions. Twenty carefully planned moments meant to foster connection, ease, and grace.

(Y/n) let out a slow, exhausted breath, her fingertips tracing absent patterns on the linen tablecloth before her. It didn’t go as planned.

It wasn’t a complete disaster, but there were cracks—cracks she hadn’t anticipated. Cody had been polite, almost flawlessly so, but polite wasn’t enough. Politeness lacked warmth. It lacked connection. He had stood stiffly in place like a soldier on parade, greeting each woman with the faintest smile, his words measured and impersonal. He hadn’t engaged, not really, and though none of the women had dared say so aloud, (Y/n) could feel it in their subtle glances and hesitant smiles.

It had been like watching dancers out of step with the music—each one lovely and perfect on their own, but unable to move as one.

And the blame, (Y/n) decided, sat squarely on her shoulders.

You’re supposed to be the best, her mind whispered accusingly. This is what you do. You don’t fail.

She sighed again, rolling her shoulders as though trying to shake off the weight pressing against them. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, and her appetite was nowhere to be found. She stared blankly out the wide windows to her left, where sunlight spilled in golden shafts across the far mountains.

“Are you hiding, or do you just like brooding in corners?”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden voice cutting through her thoughts. Rex stood at the edge of the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, that ever-present spark of mischief in his eyes. He tilted his head as he regarded her, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not hiding,” (Y/n) said defensively, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hands over her skirt. “And I certainly don’t brood.”

“Ah.” Rex nodded thoughtfully as though he didn’t believe a word of it. “That explains the tragic sighing and staring dramatically into the middle distance. Very dignified.”

“Rex…” (Y/n) began, but he cut her off by sliding into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation.

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning back with an almost lazy confidence. “The meetings didn’t go well.”

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “You weren’t even there.”

“I didn’t have to be.” Rex shrugged, his gaze lingering on her face, softer now, more observant. “You’re sitting here with the same look Cody wears after reading a hundred tax reports. That’s a bad sign.”

(Y/n) let out a quiet, reluctant laugh—short and breathless—but it was enough to ease some of the tightness in her chest. “It wasn’t a disaster,” she admitted, folding her arms on the table, “but it didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

Rex’s smile dimmed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Let me guess,” he said, his voice gentler now, though the teasing lilt hadn’t fully left. “Cody was… Cody.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Polite but distant. He treated the entire process like a military inspection.”

“Sounds about right.” Rex sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Don’t take it personally. Cody’s not great at being himself in rooms full of strangers.”

(Y/n) looked at him curiously. “And what is he like when he is himself?”

Rex paused, his expression thoughtful as though he hadn’t quite expected the question. “Quiet,” he said after a moment. “Steady. He’s the man you want beside you in a storm because he’ll never waver. But he keeps his heart close to the chest. Too close, sometimes.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “That he won’t let anyone in.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though seeing her more clearly than she’d like. “You care,” he said finally, the words quiet but certain.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard. “Of course I care. It’s my job.”

“No,” Rex said softly, shaking his head. “It’s more than that.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest, but Rex was already standing, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Come on.”

She frowned up at him. “Come on where?”

“You need cheering up,” Rex replied matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything. “And I’ve got just the thing.”

“Rex, I have work—”

“Your work will still be here when you get back.” He held out a hand to her, his grin returning, though there was something warm and steady about it now. “Trust me.”

(Y/n) stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, torn between the pull of her responsibilities and the spark of curiosity he always managed to ignite in her. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

“You’re relentless,” she muttered as he led her out of the dining hall.

“You’ll thank me later,” Rex replied confidently.

***

Rex led her outside the palace and down a narrow, snow-dusted stone path that wound between tall hedges and towering fir trees. The air was sharp and clear, carrying the faint, distant sound of bells—somewhere, far off, the palace staff were likely preparing for the holidays.

(Y/n) let herself be guided, her curiosity mounting with every step. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Rex said, glancing back at her with that mischievous glint in his eye that she was beginning to recognize all too well.

Finally, they emerged into an open space—a secluded garden tucked into a hollow beside the palace walls. (Y/n) stopped in her tracks, her breath catching softly in her chest.

The garden was alive with light. The snow-covered hedges had been strung with soft golden lanterns that glowed like captured stars, and beneath them, scattered throughout the frost-touched earth, grew winter roses. Their petals were pale white tinged with the faintest blush of pink, each bloom seeming almost unreal against the snow.

(Y/n) stepped forward slowly, the sound of her boots muffled by the thick powder. She knelt beside one of the flowers, brushing her fingers delicately against its petals. It was soft—unexpectedly so—and still warm with life despite the frost surrounding it.

“You don’t often see these,” Rex said quietly, standing just behind her. “They only bloom when the nights are cold and the moons hang low. They say the winter rose can survive where nothing else can.”

(Y/n) glanced back at him, her voice soft. “It’s beautiful.”

Rex watched her closely, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I thought you’d like it.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—filled with something unspoken, something that hummed softly beneath the surface like the slow bloom of a winter rose.

“You brought me here to see this?” (Y/n) finally asked, turning fully to face him.

Rex shrugged, though his grin was gentler now, his gaze steady. “You’ve spent all day carrying the weight of the palace on your shoulders. I figured you deserved something beautiful.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her heart skipping in a way that made her uneasy. She had known men who could speak in charm alone, but Rex… he said things as though he meant them, as though his words carried weight he didn’t expect her to see.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the words feeling small but sincere.

Rex held her gaze for another long moment before grinning again, the familiar glint returning to his eyes. “Come on. There’s a fire pit at the far end of the garden. I’ll even let you warm your hands while I find some spiced cider.”

(Y/n) shook her head with a quiet laugh, following him as he turned. But as they walked deeper into the glow of the lanterns, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—softly, quietly, like snow falling in the night.

And for once, she didn’t mind it at all.

***

From a window high in one of the palace towers, Cody stood in silence, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. The firelight from within the room barely reached him, leaving him half in shadow, but he didn’t need light to see what unfolded below.

The garden glowed softly, a golden pocket of warmth against the snow-covered grounds, and in its center, he spotted them. Rex and (Y/n).

Cody’s gaze lingered on them—on the way Rex turned back slightly to check that (Y/n) was following, on the faint laugh that drifted up, too soft to fully reach him but audible enough to let him imagine its sound. Rex had that look about him again—the kind of light in his eyes Cody hadn’t seen in years, not since they were children racing sleds down the hills without a care in the world.

(Y/n) walked beside him, her posture softer than Cody had ever seen it. Her usual composure, her air of determination and restraint, had given way to something quieter—something more… real.

Cody’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it was tinged with something deeper, something thoughtful. His brother had always had a way of finding light in unexpected places, of dragging it with him like a spark through darkness.

And (Y/n)? Well, she had been so consumed by her careful plans—her lists and responsibilities—that Cody doubted she’d allowed herself to breathe in years.

As he watched them disappear deeper into the garden, the lantern light dappling across their figures like scattered starlight, Cody shook his head faintly to himself.

“Rex…” he murmured under his breath, though there was no reprimand in the word. Only quiet acknowledgment.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he turned from the window, the shadows swallowing him again as he walked back toward the heart of the palace.

Perhaps, he thought, the best things in life weren’t meant to be planned.

For all the planning, for all the meticulous work (Y/n) had done, perhaps the one thing she hadn’t planned for was the thing that mattered most.

Unexpected love.

Cody’s smile lingered as he turned away from the window, leaving the scene below to play out as it would.

***

In the solitude of the west tower, beyond the hustle of the palace’s daily movements, **King Jaster** stood by a wide, arched window, the heavy velvet drapes drawn back to allow the fading light of dusk to stream in. The winter air carried a hush outside, as though the world itself had paused to listen.

He said nothing at first, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the glowing garden below. The lanterns illuminated the space with a soft, golden warmth, their light dancing across the snow and reflecting off the pale petals of the winter roses. In the center of the glow, two figures moved slowly—Rex, with his easy, unhurried strides, and (Y/n), following with a quiet grace.  

There was laughter down there. Jaster couldn’t hear it, but he could see it—Rex turning to speak, (Y/n) tilting her head back just slightly, her lips forming a smile that softened her entire demeanor. The boy had that gleam again, the light he’d carried as a child when his feet ran faster than he could keep up with, when his laughter filled the palace halls and made it feel alive.  

“Hmm,” came the low murmur of a familiar voice from behind him. “Young Rex… cheerful, he is. Bright, the boy shines.”  

Jaster didn’t turn as Yoda stepped up beside him, his short stature meaning his head just barely reached the bottom of the windowsill. The old advisor, gnarled and wise, had been at Jaster’s side for as long as he could remember. Through wars and peace, through grief and recovery, Yoda had been an anchor—his quiet words carrying more weight than all the councils in the galaxy combined.  

“He’s happy,” Jaster said softly, his deep voice quieter than usual, as though afraid to disturb the moment below. “I haven’t seen him like this in years.”

“Long has it been,” Yoda replied, his tone calm but edged with knowing. “The burdens they carry, heavier than they should be. All of them. Cody, Rex… the twins… Jesse.”  

Jaster inclined his head faintly, his gaze not wavering from the scene below. “Too heavy.”  

Yoda’s ears flicked slightly as he looked up at the king, his ancient green face unreadable but his eyes sharp and knowing. “Hm. Yet, warmth finds them. The unexpected blooms when left untended.” He tilted his head toward the window, gesturing faintly with one clawed hand. “Like the winter rose.”

Jaster turned slightly at that, his weathered brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

“Observe them, did you not?” Yoda murmured, his tone faintly teasing as his wise eyes twinkled in the dim light. “A flame burns there, quiet but certain. Like moonlight on snow.”

Jaster looked back at the garden, his sharp blue gaze lingering on his grandson and the woman who walked beside him. He watched the way Rex looked at her—an unguarded glance, fleeting but honest. The way (Y/n)’s shoulders had relaxed, as though for the first time, the weight of her purpose had been temporarily lifted.  

“You think…” Jaster began, trailing off before the words could leave him fully.  

“Think? Hmm.” Yoda chuckled softly, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves. “Know, I do not. But hope? Ah, yes.” He gave a small nod, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. “Hope can grow where nothing else will.”

Jaster said nothing for a long moment, his weathered face thoughtful as the firelight from the lanterns below danced faintly in his eyes. He had known love—had held it in his hands, in his family, and had watched it be torn away too soon. For years now, the palace had carried shadows, held together by duty and resolve. And yet…  

As Rex and (Y/n) disappeared further into the garden, their figures framed by golden light and snow-dusted roses, Jaster felt something shift—a tiny crack in the stone walls built around them all.

“Perhaps,” Jaster said finally, his voice low, as though admitting it to himself more than to Yoda, “the galaxy hasn’t taken everything from us yet.”  

“Hm.” Yoda tilted his head knowingly. “Faith, my friend. When least expected, life always finds a way.”

Jaster looked down at the old Jedi, his lips quirking faintly—just the smallest hint of a smile. “You always say that.”

“And right, I always am.” Yoda’s shoulders lifted in what might have been a shrug, his expression as wry as ever.  

Jaster let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting back to the window. The lanterns in the garden glowed against the darkening sky, a pocket of warmth and light in the cold. And below, unseen by the rest of the world, something fragile and precious had begun to grow.

For the first time in years, Jaster allowed himself to hope.  

And beside him, Yoda smiled faintly, the ancient weight of his wisdom carried lightly, as though he, too, had been waiting for this moment.  

“Watch closely, we will,” Yoda murmured softly, his voice a quiet promise. “For blooms like this… rare they are.”

***

(Y/n) stood at the head of the grand hall, its wide expanse already buzzing with quiet anticipation. Sunlight poured through the tall, latticed windows, illuminating the polished marble floors in soft golden beams. She’d spent the better part of her morning organizing yet another round of introductions for Cody and the invited ladies, but today, she was determined to shift the dynamic.

(Y/n) glanced down at her clipboard—a tightly organized grid of names, pairings, and locations. She had carefully plotted this: dividing the suitors among Cody’s cousins and brothers. Her logic was sound—if Cody didn’t feel the full weight of the proceedings on his shoulders, if he weren’t the sole focus of every woman’s attention, perhaps he would loosen up, even if just a little.

And she had managed to secure volunteers—or perhaps unwitting participants—from the extended royal family: Wolffe, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Hunter, and, of course, Rex and the twins.

(Y/n) glanced at the gathered men now, standing in a loose, uneven cluster. Most of them looked like they were bracing for battle.

“Let me get this straight,” Wolffe said, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his piercing gaze scanned the clipboard (Y/n) held. The eldest of the cousins, his air of authority was impossible to miss, though there was something sardonic about him, as if he found life amusing in the most infuriating ways. “You want us to… what? Escort the suitors around and make polite conversation?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said, keeping her tone professional and unwavering, though Wolffe’s skeptical stare made her throat tighten slightly. “The idea is to lighten the atmosphere, give Cody some breathing room, and allow the ladies to interact with all of you as well.”

“Babysitting duty,” Hunter muttered with an arched brow. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his sharp, observant eyes missed nothing. There was a kind of quiet patience about him, though (Y/n) had a feeling he was assessing the entire situation like a battlefield.

“It’s not babysitting,” (Y/n) replied, though she could already hear the skepticism in their silence. “Think of it as… social diplomacy.”

Kix, the palace medic and the most even-tempered of the group, raised a hand slightly, as though waiting his turn. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with them?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with resignation.

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly, as though to reassure him. “Talk to them. Ask about their home systems. Be… friendly.”

“Friendly,” Waxer repeated, exchanging a grin with Boil beside him. The two cousins—more laid-back than their older counterparts—were already nudging each other like schoolboys in the back of the classroom. “How friendly are we talking here?”

“Polite friendly,” (Y/n) clarified quickly, narrowing her eyes at the pair. “Not ‘charming mischief’ friendly.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Boil muttered, though the grin on his face suggested he had no intention of causing trouble. Probably.

Rex, standing a little to the side, looked far too pleased with the entire situation. “I think it’s a brilliant plan,” he said with a grin, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets. “Let’s see if Cody actually cracks a smile this time.”

“It’s not for entertainment, Rex,” (Y/n) shot back, though the faint smirk he offered in return made it impossible to stay frustrated with him.

“Of course not,” Rex said smoothly. “But I’m still looking forward to seeing what happens.”

***

(Y/n) exhaled, turning to face Cody, who stood nearby with his usual air of composed reluctance. He had been quiet the entire time, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, as though trying to mentally escape the moment.

“Your Highness,” (Y/n) said gently, addressing him directly. “I believe this will help. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint nod that could almost pass as agreement, he muttered, “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

***

The first half of the morning went surprisingly well. (Y/n) allowed herself a sliver of pride as she observed the scene unfolding in the grand hall. Small clusters of suitors and royal men dotted the room, conversations flowing, and the atmosphere felt… lighter.

Wolffe, to her surprise, stood with an elegant brunette in deep violet, listening attentively as she explained her family’s long-held traditions. Kix had drawn a small circle of women around him, undoubtedly sharing medical stories that (Y/n) hoped weren’t too graphic. Hunter, quiet as ever, was paired with a sharp-witted lady from Alderaan, whose animated conversation seemed to amuse him in spite of himself.

Even Cody, while still stiff, looked far less burdened with Rex standing beside him—no doubt helping to steer the conversation with easy charm.

(Y/n) was just beginning to relax when she noticed Fives and Echo, far too still and far too quiet, near one of the grand hall’s archways. It sent a warning tingle up her spine.

“What are they…” she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make sense of their suspiciously innocent expressions.

Fives’ shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing a laugh. Echo’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling for a fraction of a second before returning to the small group of women they were entertaining.

The ceiling.

(Y/n) froze, her gaze snapping upward.

She saw it just in time. A large net, strung with bundles of artificial snow—feathers and fine powder—dangled from the chandelier above the center of the room.

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

It was too late. Fives grinned suddenly—bright and unrepentant—as he yanked something from his pocket. Echo turned just in time to give (Y/n) an apologetic shrug.

The net released.

Snow—soft, powdery, and absurdly voluminous—exploded from the ceiling, cascading down like a sudden blizzard. Gasps and shrieks of laughter erupted across the hall as women and royals alike were buried under the unexpected deluge.

(Y/n)’s jaw dropped as Rex burst into a peal of laughter, nearly doubling over as he watched the chaos unfold. Wolffe let out a low, irritated groan as snow settled in his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his coat.

“Fives!” (Y/n) shouted, her voice rising above the noise as she marched toward the twins, who were already trying to escape toward the hallway. “Echo! What did I say about behaving?”

“Technically,” Fives called back as he darted past Rex, who was still laughing, “we’re enhancing the atmosphere!”

“Yeah!” Echo chimed in, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at Waxer, who had joined in the chaos. “It’s festive!”

Rex, tears of laughter in his eyes, straightened enough to throw a look at (Y/n), who now stood with her hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I told you—friendly mischief.”

“You’re all impossible!” (Y/n) snapped, though she couldn’t stop the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

****

From where he stood near the edge of the hall, Cody brushed snow off his coat, his expression unreadable. A faint dusting of powder clung to his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward (Y/n), who stood in the center of the chaos. Her hands were still on her hips, her expression half-scolding, half-amused as she watched Rex and the twins with exasperated affection.

Cody’s lips twitched—the barest flicker of a smile. It was brief and small, but it softened the lines of his face, made his shoulders relax.

For all the weight on her shoulders, for all her determination to keep everything perfect, (Y/n) made the palace feel alive again.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned quietly toward the hall’s exit, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

****

In the corner of the hall, Rex caught (Y/n)’s eye, a mischievous grin still lingering as he dusted snow off his sleeves. “You’ve got to admit,” he called over the noise, “it is festive.”

(Y/n) groaned, but even as she shook her head, she couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

***

The day broke gently over Alderia, sunlight glinting off the frost-touched landscape like a painter’s brush had scattered silver across the world. The palace, still waking in quiet elegance, seemed to stretch its limbs as a fresh wave of crisp air flowed in from the mountains.

(Y/n) had taken her breakfast in the dining room again, seated at the far end of the enormous table. A modest spread had been laid before her, and though the tea was fragrant and the pastries warm, she found herself picking at the edges of her meal, her mind lingering stubbornly on the day’s agenda.

The introductions from the previous day replayed themselves in an endless loop—Cody’s polite stiffness, the carefully orchestrated smiles of the suitors, the pauses that stretched too long, heavy with unsaid words. You planned for everything, (Y/n) thought bitterly. And yet here we are.

She was about to lift her cup for a sip when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. (Y/n) flinched, startled, and looked up to see Rex sliding into the seat across from her with the kind of careless ease that only he could pull off. He looked far too energetic for someone who had no reason to be awake so early.

“Good morning,” he said, with a grin that was altogether too bright for the hour.

(Y/n) sighed, placing her cup back down. “Rex. Do you ever not appear out of nowhere?”

“I like to think of it as being punctual,” Rex replied, reaching for a fresh roll from the basket at the center of the table. He tore it in half with practiced ease, popping a piece into his mouth before glancing at her pointedly. “Though you look like you’ve been sitting here arguing with your thoughts for the better part of an hour.”

“I’m not arguing,” (Y/n) replied, though the tightness in her tone betrayed her frustration.

“Oh?” Rex tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Planning, then. You do a lot of that.”

“It’s my job.” She picked at the edges of her napkin, willing herself to focus on anything other than his direct gaze. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of—”

“Of what?” he interrupted gently, though there was no teasing in his voice this time. “Forgetting that life isn’t made of plans?”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue but found no words. The observation hit too close to home, as Rex’s usually did. He watched her for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, draping an arm casually across the backrest.

“All right, enough of this,” he said decisively. “You’re coming with me.”

(Y/n) frowned, blinking. “What?”

“Out. A ride.”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “A ride? On horses?”

Rex grinned, already victorious. “What else? Fresh air, open land, the whole countryside to ourselves.”

“Rex, I don’t have time for—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, though his tone remained maddeningly calm. “(Y/n), if I let you sit here another hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that table with how hard you’re frowning. Trust me—there’s more to this planet than ballroom introductions and checklists. Let me show you.”

There it was again—that impossible pull he always managed to have on her. She stared at him for a long moment, debating, trying to hold on to her resolve. But something in the way he looked at her—earnest and insistent but never forceful—made the words fall flat on her tongue.

With a heavy sigh, she relented. “Fine. One hour.”

“One hour,” he agreed, though the grin he gave her said he already considered it a full victory. “Stables in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

The air outside was crisp, the kind of winter morning where every breath felt clean and sharp against the lungs. Snow still dusted the palace grounds, glistening under the rising sun, though it had begun to melt in places where the trees offered a break from the frost.

(Y/n) stood by the royal stables, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the horses being saddled. She hadn’t ridden in years—not since she was a child on Coruscant, where the rare few riding paths were carefully controlled and more for show than anything else.

Rex, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stood beside a tall, dapple-gray stallion, stroking its neck with practiced hands. His sleeves were pushed up again, the cold seemingly not bothering him in the slightest, and a faint smile played on his lips as he whispered to the horse in low, soothing tones.

“You look far too comfortable,” (Y/n) said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Rex looked up, flashing her an easy smile. “This is my element.”

“And here I thought mischief was your element.”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby.” Rex winked before turning to gesture toward the horse being brought to her—a sleek chestnut mare with a kind, intelligent face. “This is Aurora. She’s gentle but spirited. You’ll get along just fine.”

(Y/n) eyed the horse warily. “I’m not so sure.”

Rex stepped closer, his tone softening. “She won’t let you fall. And neither will I.”

There was something in the way he said it—earnest, quiet—that made (Y/n)’s throat tighten slightly. She allowed herself a breath before nodding and letting one of the stable hands help her into the saddle.

***

The wind whistled softly as (Y/n) pulled her borrowed cloak closer, the thick fabric shielding her from the lingering winter chill. The horses moved in steady rhythm beneath them, their hooves crunching softly through the light blanket of snow that covered the rolling meadows beyond the palace. Rex rode just a pace ahead of her, completely at ease, his posture loose and natural as though he belonged to this land.

(Y/n), though less confident, managed to keep Aurora, the gentle chestnut mare, moving smoothly alongside him. She focused on the sound of the horses, on the wide openness of the space stretching out before her—fields and valleys edged with frost, dotted by the dark outlines of evergreens.

It had been years since she’d felt anything like this—open air, the rush of motion, the world wide enough that it felt like it could swallow every weight she carried.

“I told you this would be better than staring at your tea,” Rex called over his shoulder, the wind carrying his voice to her like a song on the breeze.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right—yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still deciding.”

Rex laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “You’ll come around.” He slowed his horse slightly so that they rode side by side. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world quiet except for the rhythm of hooves and the faint creak of leather saddles.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. “You seem… happy out here,” she observed quietly.

Rex looked ahead, his smile softening. “I am.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the snow-dusted hills in the distance. “Because out here, I don’t have to be anything but myself,” he said finally. “There’s no one expecting me to play a role or fill a gap. I’m just… Rex.”

(Y/n) watched him, her fingers curling tighter around the reins. “And in the palace?”

“In the palace,” he said with a faint sigh, “I’m the spare. The second. The one who fills the space around the crown.” He turned to her then, his storm-colored eyes holding hers. “I don’t mind it, not really. Cody was born for it. But sometimes… it feels like there’s nothing else for me to be.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, as though the world itself had stopped to listen. (Y/n) hesitated before speaking, her voice soft.

“I understand that,” she murmured.

Rex raised a brow. “You do?”

(Y/n) looked forward, letting her gaze drift to the open expanse of white and gold. “I’ve spent so much time helping others find love—building connections, crafting perfect matches—that I stopped looking for myself. It’s as though I’m… watching from the outside. Always watching.”

There was no pity in Rex’s gaze, only understanding. “And have you ever… wanted it?”

(Y/n) let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, though it caught in her throat. “I wouldn’t know what to want. Love, as I’ve seen it, always seems so… chaotic. And yet, it’s the one thing everyone wants. It’s the thing they can’t live without.”

“And you?” Rex asked quietly.

(Y/n) turned to him, her expression soft but guarded. “I guess I’ve never felt I deserved it.”

Rex blinked, as though the confession had knocked something loose inside him. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” (Y/n) countered, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“Because I’ve seen you,” Rex said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re always the one holding everything together—steady and sure, even when it’s not your burden to carry. You deserve more than just watching.”

The words hung between them, raw and unguarded, until Rex gave her a crooked, disarming smile. “Besides,” he added, lightening his tone, “chaos isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding quietly in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she looked back out at the open meadow.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest spark of hope—quiet and fragile but impossible to ignore.

As they rode on, Rex glanced at her again, the edges of his smile softer now, less teasing. He didn’t say anything more, but something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a connection.

Neither of them knew where it would lead.

But for now, it was enough.

***

(Y/n) paced the length of the ballroom with her clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The room, dressed in restrained elegance, was set for the next phase of introductions—an opportunity for each of the noblewomen and princesses to spend an uninterrupted hour with Cody. It was (Y/n)’s hope that the structured intimacy would allow for a deeper connection, perhaps even help Cody find some common ground with at least one of them.

The tables had been arranged with meticulous care, adorned with soft floral arrangements and tea sets laid out on embroidered linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth diffusing the chill in the room. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bathing the grand space in gold, as if the day itself wanted to encourage success.

(Y/n)’s preparations were flawless—as always.

And yet, deep in her chest, a nagging sense of unease lingered.

The suitors, elegantly dressed and seated in the antechamber, were perfect on paper. Beautiful, poised, intelligent, and well-spoken. But perfection, (Y/n) knew all too well, could often feel hollow. And she was beginning to fear that hollow was exactly what Cody would find in each of them.

“Everything looks… unnecessarily perfect,” Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts, lighthearted and teasing as ever.

(Y/n) startled slightly, turning to find him lounging against one of the window frames, arms crossed and the familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. He looked too at ease for someone standing amidst her painstakingly crafted setting—like he belonged in chaos more than polished order.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock reproach.

“Why not? I’m helping.” He pushed off the frame, strolling toward her with the easy gait that she had come to know far too well.

“Helping?” (Y/n) scoffed, though her tone held no real irritation. “You’ve spent the last week interrupting my work.”

“Interrupting,” Rex corrected, as though it were a badge of honor, “is a form of assistance. It keeps you from overthinking everything.”

“I don’t overthink,” (Y/n) shot back defensively, clutching her clipboard just a little tighter.

Rex grinned, clearly delighted to see her bristling. “You’re overthinking right now.”

(Y/n) sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “If you’re here to derail my plans, you’re too late. Everything is set. Each of the women will have an hour alone with Cody today. That’s their time to make an impression.”

Rex gave an exaggerated wince as he surveyed the ballroom. “Alone with Cody? You’re asking for trouble.”

(Y/n) frowned, brow furrowing as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen him,” Rex replied casually, leaning against the back of one of the chairs and watching her with an amused expression. “The man treats these introductions like he’s attending a military tribunal. Straight back, stiff smile, saying as little as humanly possible.”

(Y/n) sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know. But this is important, Rex. He needs to—”

“Relax?” Rex interrupted, his grin widening when she shot him a glare. “(Y/n), you’ve set up the perfect stage, but you can’t force chemistry. That’s the problem. You’re trying to plan love.”

“That’s my job!” she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if she were exasperated with herself more than him. “And it’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

Rex straightened slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s never simple. But you can’t make someone feel something they don’t.”

The truth of his words settled in (Y/n)’s chest like a heavy stone, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She knew he was right. As much as she hoped to create the perfect conditions, connection wasn’t something that could be controlled. It either happened or it didn’t.

***

From her vantage point in the shadows of the ballroom, Lady Mara watched with the stillness of a predator. Her keen gaze never wavered as it settled on (Y/n) and Rex, the young woman’s flustered reaction to Rex’s teasing and the unmistakable warmth in his gaze as he lingered near her.

It was subtle, but Mara saw it—she always saw it. The way Rex leaned just slightly too close, the softness of his smile when (Y/n) wasn’t looking, the flicker of hesitation in (Y/n)’s eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them.

But Mara knew.

Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her shawl, the fabric brushing softly against her gloves as her lips pressed into a thin line. She had spent too many years waiting—watching—as Jaster’s grandsons grew into men, as they carried the titles and power that should have been hers.

She had been patient—oh, so patient—ever since the day Jango, her brother’s favored son, had taken everything from her. The throne, the future she had so carefully planned, had all been ripped away like a cruel twist of fate. When Jango died, she had thought it her time at last—her chance to step into the light and claim what was rightfully hers. But Jaster had refused to bend. He had raised Jango’s sons like the kings they were never meant to be, tightening his grip on the crown, solidifying his dynasty.

Now here she stood, in a palace that should have been hers, watching Jaster’s precious grandsons ruin everything. Rex, of all people—reckless, charming, unpredictable Rex—had begun to slip through her carefully laid cracks.

Her dark eyes swept back to (Y/n), the matchmaker. She was supposed to be here to solve the problem of Cody’s disinterest, yet somehow, she had become the problem herself. Mara saw the quiet connection between her and Rex beginning to form—fragile, unspoken, but growing like ivy on an ancient wall. It wasn’t merely an inconvenience; it was dangerous.

Mara’s nails dug into the soft fabric of her glove as she turned away from the ballroom. She moved silently, her skirts whispering along the floor as she stepped out into the quieter hallway beyond.

*** 

Mara strode purposefully down the shadowed corridor, her mind whirling with thoughts. The palace was alive with movement—the footsteps of servants, the murmur of distant voices—but Mara walked through it all like a ghost, unseen and unnoticed.

She couldn’t allow this. Not again.

Jaster’s sons had already stolen too much from her. She wouldn’t stand idle while they found love and strength to secure their power. A royal marriage, the forging of alliances—that would cement their place for generations to come, locking her and her line into the cold shadows of obscurity.

No.

Her gaze hardened as she turned a corner, entering a smaller study tucked away from the bustle of the main palace. She paused near the window, staring out at the snow-draped gardens below, where faint lantern light still flickered from the winter rose beds.

Rex, she thought bitterly, his name curling on her tongue like ash. He was too much like his father—too carefree, too charming. But unlike Jango, he was reckless. Mara could use that. His unpredictability could be turned against him, twisted to tarnish the reputation he carried.

And (Y/n)…

Mara’s lips curled faintly. The matchmaker was earnest and focused, but it made her predictable. A woman so busy trying to fit the world into neat little boxes couldn’t see a storm forming until it was too late.

***

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.

“Enter,” she said smoothly, turning just as the heavy door creaked open and one of her most trusted attendants, a man named Luthar, slipped inside. He was a wiry man, his presence shadowed and unassuming, but his loyalty to Lady Mara was unquestionable.

“You summoned me, my lady?” Luthar’s voice was low and deferential.

“Yes,” Mara replied, her tone calm, measured. She gestured for him to step closer, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I need you to watch someone for me.”

Luthar inclined his head. “Who?”

“The matchmaker,” Mara said smoothly, folding her hands in front of her. “(Y/n) (Y/L/N). I want to know her movements. Who she speaks with. Who she trusts.”

Luthar gave a slight bow. “And the prince?”

“Rex,” Mara said softly, almost to herself, as though tasting the name on her tongue. “Keep an eye on him as well. He’s grown… distracted. That distraction could prove useful.”

Luthar hesitated, his gaze flickering with unspoken curiosity. “And if something should arise?”

Mara’s expression hardened, the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Then you’ll inform me immediately. I’ll handle it.”

Luthar bowed again before slipping from the room as silently as he had entered.

****

Once she was alone again, Mara turned back to the window, her gaze sweeping the snow-covered grounds below. The garden was quiet now, but she could still see it in her mind: (Y/n) and Rex, walking beneath the lanterns, their laughter drifting up through the cold night air.

It was fragile.

Too fragile to last, she thought. And she would ensure it didn’t.

Jaster had stolen her crown. His grandsons had stolen her legacy.

But love?

Love was a fire she could extinguish before it ever had the chance to burn.

With that thought, she turned sharply, the rustle of her skirts echoing through the empty room. Lady Mara, patient and cunning, would not be ignored any longer.

***

As the morning passed, oblivious to the dark intentions brewing in the shadows, Rex found (Y/n) once again—this time in the library, surrounded by books and notes.

“Still working?” he teased, leaning against a nearby bookshelf with a grin that was far too casual.

(Y/n) looked up, startled, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m always working. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

Rex grinned, pushing off the bookshelf to sit on the edge of the table, far too close for propriety’s comfort. “You should take a break. I hear there’s a lovely view from the gardens around this time.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her cheeks warming faintly, though she tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped at his nearness. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep me around,” Rex replied, his voice softening as his teasing smile melted into something quieter.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

In that moment, as their eyes met and lingered, she felt it—the shift. The fragile thread of something unspoken, growing stronger with every breath they shared.

And just beyond the warmth of the library walls, Lady Mara watched, unseen and waiting, the storm she intended to unleash already beginning to gather.

****

### **The Dance Lessons**  

The ballroom gleamed in soft afternoon light, its wide marble floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vast space echoed with anticipation—servants hurrying to finish preparations, chairs tucked neatly against the far wall, fresh garlands of winter roses hanging from the tall archways. 

(Y/n) stood at the center of it all, a clipboard in her hand and tension in her shoulders as she surveyed the day’s task. *Dance lessons.* It was the logical next step—graceful movement, light conversation, an easy way to break the icy formality between Cody and the suitors. She had coordinated every detail: music selections, the layout, the schedule, and, of course, the “volunteers” she had roped in to serve as dance partners.  

**Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Hunter, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo** stood at varying levels of discomfort near the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in their finest tunics—boots polished, collars starched—and wearing expressions that ranged from resigned to outright rebellious.  

“This is ridiculous,” Wolffe muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze swept the room. “I’m not a dance instructor.”  

“You’re *helping,*” (Y/n) replied crisply, flipping through her notes to keep herself from snapping back. “You’ll all partner with the ladies who haven’t yet had a chance to properly engage with Prince Cody. Think of it as your civic duty.”

“Civic duty?” Hunter murmured, arching a brow at her. “I didn’t realize dancing had become a matter of state.”

“It has now,” (Y/n) shot back, leveling a look at him before continuing. “The goal is for the women to feel at ease. Relaxed. Do you think they’ll be comfortable dancing with a prince who refuses to smile?” 

From his place against the far wall, **Cody** lifted his gaze from where he’d been inspecting the floor. “I can hear you.”

“You were supposed to,” (Y/n) replied sweetly, though her gaze lingered on him just long enough to soften the sting.  

The twins, predictably, were already at it—Fives elbowed Echo, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to win the crowd over,” Fives announced grandly, smoothing the front of his coat with mock seriousness. “They’ll forget Cody’s even here.”

“Try not to trip,” Echo replied dryly, though his smirk betrayed him.  

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly before scanning the room for the one man she hadn’t yet heard complain. Rex. 

---

**Rex stood near the grand piano**, watching (Y/n) with an unreadable expression as she corralled the cousins and brothers like a commander on a battlefield. He’d grown used to seeing her like this—sharp, focused, and entirely in control—but something about today felt different. Her movements were more rushed, her tone a little too clipped, as if she were holding something back.  

Rex watched her for another beat before stepping forward, his boots tapping softly against the marble. “You’re going to wear a hole in that clipboard,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he stopped beside her.

(Y/n) glanced up sharply, startled. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Rex replied, tilting his head as he studied her, “and yet you look like you’re ready to strangle someone with your notes.”  

(Y/n) bit back a retort, her pulse quickening slightly under the weight of his gaze. “They’re impossible to manage,” she muttered instead, gesturing toward the assembled group. “None of them take this seriously.”

“They’re taking it as seriously as you let them,” Rex said softly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You could use a break, you know. You’ve been on edge since—well, *since always*.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was no point arguing with Rex when he saw straight through her defenses. She let out a soft breath instead, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you here to help or just to distract me?”

Rex’s lips curled into that familiar lopsided grin that made (Y/n)’s stomach flip in ways she wasn’t prepared to admit. “Both.”

***

The music began—a soft, lilting waltz played on the grand piano by a palace musician—and the suitors moved hesitantly into the ballroom. (Y/n)’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip of calm authority.  

“All right, ladies, gentlemen—pair up, please,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the music. “One lady to each of you. Prince Cody will begin at the center, and the rest of you will rotate every ten minutes. This is about comfort and conversation. Please, try to enjoy yourselves.”

*Enjoy themselves.* (Y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more reluctant group of dancers.

The ballroom was a wash of gold and white, sunlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows, dappling the polished marble floor with warmth. The soft strains of a waltz echoed through the vast space, mingling with the laughter and polite murmurs of conversation as the dance lessons finally began. It was as (Y/n) had planned—graceful, orderly, structured.

Yet despite the perfect setting, the atmosphere still felt off.

Cody, positioned at the center with yet another partner, moved stiffly, his every step mechanical, as though he were a clockwork figure. (Y/n) watched him carefully from her spot near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed as she made notes on her clipboard. Every step, every rotation, felt like another missed opportunity. Cody’s partner smiled, but (Y/n) could see through it—polite, practiced, but hollow.

The ballroom was filling with cracks, tiny fissures in the façade she’d worked so hard to create.

***

Across the floor, Rex moved among the dancers with a kind of natural ease that both frustrated and fascinated her. He laughed easily, spinning one of the young princesses with a flair that earned him a round of applause from the other ladies. The charm came effortlessly to him, a boyish mischief lighting up his face that made him impossible to ignore.

But (Y/n) had learned something about Rex these last few weeks. That carefree exterior of his? It was a mask—clever, disarming, but not quite real. And when he let it slip, even just a little, (Y/n) felt as though she’d glimpsed something precious and fragile.

Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to see.

“Careful, Matchmaker.”

Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts like a ripple across still water. (Y/n) blinked, startled, to find him suddenly at her side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue-gray eyes fixed on her with a look that sent her pulse fluttering.

“You’re brooding again,” Rex said, a teasing smile curving his lips. “You’re supposed to be watching the dancing, not staring holes into the floor.”

“I’m working,” (Y/n) replied stiffly, though her voice faltered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Are you?” Rex asked, tilting his head. “Because from here, it looks like you’re worrying yourself into an early grave.”

(Y/n) frowned, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Cody isn’t connecting with anyone. This is supposed to help, but it’s… falling apart.”

“Falling apart?” Rex murmured, his tone softer now. “Not everything needs to be perfect, (Y/n).”

“It’s my job to make it perfect,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was a pause, and when she finally looked up, Rex was watching her—not with teasing amusement this time, but with something softer, something deeper.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” he said, his voice low, as though the words weren’t meant for anyone but her. “You try to hold the world together on your own, and it’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. He always did this—saw through the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself and reached straight into the fragile heart of it.

“Come on,” Rex said suddenly, breaking the moment before it could deepen further. He extended a hand to her, his grin returning, though the softness in his eyes remained. “Dance with me.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You can’t teach everyone else if you’re not willing to join in yourself.”

“I’m not here to dance,” (Y/n) stammered, flustered, her cheeks warming. “I’m overseeing—”

“You’re overthinking,” Rex said, smirking faintly. “One dance, (Y/n). You can go back to your clipboard after.”

***

Her hesitation broke when she felt the brothers and cousins watching—Wolffe’s sharp gaze, Kix’s faint smirk, and the twins’ not-so-subtle nudges. From across the room, Fives grinned like a child with a secret, whispering something to Echo that made them both chuckle under their breath.

Even Cody had noticed, pausing just slightly mid-step with his partner to glance over, his brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

(Y/n)’s breath caught as the room seemed to shift its focus. It was subtle, but she felt it—their eyes on her, on Rex, and on whatever it was that lingered between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still extended toward her, patient but insistent. There was no teasing in his face anymore, only quiet encouragement.

Just one dance, she told herself, though her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his.

Rex’s smile softened, as though her acceptance meant far more to him than he would ever admit. “Trust me,” he murmured.

***

They moved onto the floor, and for the first time that day, the music seemed to come alive. The melody swelled gently, wrapping around them as Rex placed his hand lightly against (Y/n)’s waist and guided her into the steps of the waltz.

At first, (Y/n)’s movements were stiff, self-conscious. She could feel the others watching—Cody, Wolffe, the cousins—but she forced herself to focus on Rex.

“Relax,” Rex murmured, his voice just above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “It’s just us.”

(Y/n) looked up into his face, startled by the sincerity in his words. “It’s not just us. They’re all staring.”

“Let them stare,” Rex replied softly, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand. “I’m only looking at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as his words settled over her like a warmth she hadn’t expected. She looked up at him, truly looked, and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Rex was… different. He wasn’t the carefree prince who pulled her into snowball fights or dragged her away from her work. He was this—steady, grounded, and impossibly real.

And it terrified her.

***

From across the room, the brothers and cousins noticed the shift.

“Finally,” Fives muttered to Echo, elbowing him in the ribs. “I thought I’d have to push him into her.”

Echo smirked, though his gaze lingered on Rex and (Y/n) with quiet understanding. “Don’t jinx it.”

Hunter’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “About time he noticed.”

Even Wolffe, usually the most reserved of them all, let out a faint, resigned sigh. “He’s in trouble.”

***

(Y/n) felt it, too.

As they moved in perfect rhythm, her body following the subtle press of Rex’s hand at her waist, (Y/n) realized how easily he grounded her. How he made everything—the chaos, the expectations, the weight—feel just a little lighter.

She glanced up at him, searching his face. What is happening to me?

Rex looked down at her as though he could hear her unspoken question. His gaze held hers, steady and sure, his expression open in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, (Y/n) let herself feel it—the spark, the pull that she could no longer deny.

As the music slowed and the last note faded into the air, Rex didn’t let go of her hand right away. His fingers lingered against hers, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“See?” he murmured. “One dance didn’t kill you.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart thudding wildly. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”

But it might have undone her entirely.

***

Lady Mara, hidden once again near the ballroom’s entrance, watched with narrowed eyes. Her sharp gaze swept over Rex and (Y/n) as they lingered just a second too long in the center of the room.

This cannot be allowed.

A plan was already forming in her mind. If love were to take root here, she would see it wither before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As the dance ended, and the room returned to its usual hum of conversation, Lady Mara turned sharply on her heel, slipping away into the shadows with purpose.

Let them play their games for now, she thought. It won’t last.

***

Thank you so much for reading the first part! 🌟 I had an absolute blast writing this story—it was such a joy to weave together the magic of the holidays

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Whether it’s your favorite moment, the scenes that made you smile, or even the twists that caught you by surprise—your reactions mean the world to me. 💕 Feel free to leave a comment, share your feelings, or even just drop by to say hi! And whether you'd be interested in a second part.

Part 2

[bl-sensei]

Analysis of Aziraphale's ethereal statuses

I was doing research for more analysis about S2 and I discovered quite a lot of interesting things about Aziraphale from his ethereal statuses.

1. He used to be a Cherub before the Garden of Eden. 

They’re beings devoid of human feelings. => Yet he could feel worry, love, happiness (all of those just for Crowley)

They are entrusted by God and described as creatures who encircle & guard God’s throne. They’re also the keepers of celestial records and hold the knowledge of God. => He was very close to God

The Cherubim name refers to their satisfaction with the imparting of wisdom and their benevolent kinship to those next to them. => He seemed pretty proud talking about doing the “good” thing, also Crowley said he likes to call him to tell him about something clever he did

I think Aziraphale could be the GO equivalent of Jophiel as he was believed to be the archangel armed with a flaming sword who drove Adam and Eve out of Eden and guarded the gate to prevent their re-entry, just like Aziraphale, and is considered the archangel of wisdom, just like principalities.

-> He protects those who seek the truth.

-> ("Beauty of God")-a companion angel of Metatron; a prince of the Law (Torah), usually included among the 7 archangels. Leader of the cherubim and representative of the splendor of God. 

I also think Aziraphale used to be a Cherub when he watched over the Garden of Eden and then became a Principality when God told him to stay on Earth to monitor Humanity as Principalities are the administrators of the Earth’s territory. Cherubs are in the 1st sphere of angels and Principalities in the 3rd, this would mean that Az was demoted.

2. Then he became a Principality 

They guide leaders in charge of large collectives to ensure God’s work is done on Earth.

Closest to the human realm, who can be seen to interact with people on Earth. => As he did, and he took quite  a liking to them

The Principalities approach towards an interconnectedness with the archangels and the angels ranked below them. => He worked really closely with the archangels, the most highest-ranked angels in Heaven + => He had responsibilities regarding other angels

They work with 2nd sphere angels in the hierarchy (Dominions, Virtues, and Powers). The 2nd tier angels focus on creating divine rules, orders, and laws; they pass their wisdom down to the Principalities. => How could he disobey when he was supposed to apply the rules and worked alongside the literal judges of Heaven.

Their energy is the antidote to brutal, authoritarian leaderships, for they guide people to exercise their power in a way that is balanced, open-minded, and fair for all. => Ironic isn’t it, do I really need to elaborate ?

They use their healing energy to cut through anxiety, fear, and worry. => Ironically Az is very anxious throughout S1 / when he’s near angels

They can send people ecstasy and joy. Their duty is to inspire brilliance, ingenuity, and creativity in those who seek to make progressive change / They are tied to the world of ideas. => Crowley ? The only demon with imagination ? Suspicious.

They are given more freedom than subsequent types of angels. => Why things were pretty ok for him on Earth

The Apostle Paul indicates both a good and an evil order. => Coincidence ? I think not.

3. Then he became the Supreme Archangel

Archangels are the guardians of nations and countries, and are concerned with politics, military activities. => For the upcoming 2nd Coming

Each Archangel has a particular role and are acknowledged as extensions of God himself (=> closeness with God again) :

-> The Warrior – Archangel Michael

-> The Messenger – Archangel Gabriel : sets the agenda

-> Angel of Beauty – Archangel Jophiel : leader

The Supreme Archangel 

-> In Christianity, the Supreme Archangel is known as Michael, while in Judaism they are known as Metatron. => Something going on with Metatron ? Also that could explain why Michael wanted to take the lead in S2

Michael is the Archangel of mercy / His name means ‘who is like God.’ => The irony. But if Az takes their place then he would be the “Archangel of mercy” in a way, which fits him well.

According to most Christians, he is the leader of the other angels, and of the heavenly armies (he lead the battalion of Angels during the Great War.) => The 2nd Coming again

He is usually depicted as a warrior angel, armed with a sword or a flaming sword. => The flaming sword

Michael is responsible for protecting the world and its inhabitants from harm. => Pretty much what Az does and wants

He is also believed to be the one who will announce the end of the world. => Prediction for S3 ?

The one who will “stand up” against the Devil and his angels and  lead the heavenly host in times of battle. He is also the one who will battle against the Antichrist and his forces during the end times. => The duality, he’ll have to make a choice again, hopefully this time he’ll make the right one. Also ironically he fought alongside the Antichrist and his forces in S1

Highest ranking angel in the hierarchy of Heaven and the most powerful of all angels. => He sure is very powerful (with Crowley at least)

Closest to God => The closeness with God le retour

[childoftheyellowsun]

“Things!

Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire !

More room in your heart for love,

For the trees! For the birds who own nothing-

The reason they can fly.”

Mary Oliver, from Storage

“and have you ever felt for anything such wild love-

Do you think there is anywhere, in any language,

a word billowing enough

for the pleasure

that fills you,

as the sun

reaches out,

as it warms your

as you stand there,

empty-handed-”

Mary Oliver, from The Sun

“The dream of my life

Is to lie down by a slow river

And stare at the light in the trees

To learn something by being nothing

A little while..”

Mary Oliver, from Entering The Kingdom

“But also I say this: that light is an invitation to happiness, and that happiness, when it’s done right, is a kind of holiness, palpable and redemptive.”

Mary Oliver, from Blue Iris

“You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun. And anyway it’s the same old story- a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive. Mostly I want to be kind”

Mary Oliver, from Dogfish

“There are moments that cry out be fulfilled. Like, telling someone you love them. Or giving your money away. All of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own.”

Mary Oliver, from Moments

“Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of god that is inside each of us.”

Mary Oliver, from Franz Marc’s Blue Horses

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Mary Oliver, from Don't Hesitate

“There isn’t anything in this world but mad love. Not in this world. No tame love, calm love, mild love, no so-so love. And, of course, no reasonable love. Also there are a hundred paths through the world that are easier than loving. But, who wants easier? We dream of love, we moon about, thinking of Romeo and Juliet, or Tristan, or the lost queen rushing away over the Irish sea, all doom and splendor. Today on the beach, an old man was sitting in the sun. I called out to him, and he turned. His face was like an empty pot. I remember his tall, pale wife; she died long ago. I remember his daughter-in-law. When she died, hard, and too young, he wept in the streets. He picked up pieces of wood, and stones, and anything else that was there, and threw them at the sea. Oh, how he loved his wife. Oh, how he loved young Barbara. I stood in front of him, not expecting any answer yet not wanting to pass without some greeting. But his face had gone back to whatever he was dreaming. Something touched me, lightly, like a knife-blade. I felt I was bleeding, though just a little, a hint. Inside I flared hot, then cold. I thought of you. Whom I love, madly.”

Mary Oliver, March

“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

[hiswordsarekisses]

“Sing a new song to the Lord! Let the whole earth sing to the Lord! Sing to the Lord; praise his name. Each day proclaim the good news that he saves. Publish his glorious deeds among the nations. Tell everyone about the amazing things he does. Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise! He is to be feared above all gods. The gods of other nations are mere idols, but the Lord made the heavens! Honor and majesty surround him; strength and beauty fill his sanctuary. O nations of the world, recognize the Lord; recognize that the Lord is glorious and strong. Give to the Lord the glory he deserves! Bring your offering and come into his courts. Worship the Lord in all his holy splendor. Let all the earth tremble before him. Tell all the nations, “The Lord reigns!” The world stands firm and cannot be shaken. He will judge all peoples fairly. Let the heavens be glad, and the earth rejoice! Let the sea and everything in it shout his praise! Let the fields and their crops burst out with joy! Let the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord, for he is coming! He is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with justice, and the nations with his truth.” Psalms‬ ‭96‬:‭1‬-‭13‬

[mightyisobel]

Wearing the floppy ears -- A 1910 antecedent to the Meereenese Knot (repost from 2018 r/asoiaf)

Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen is not the first ruler of a fantasy realm to chafe under the burden of ruling rabbits while wearing unsuitable headgear.

You may know that that the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz was an adaptation of Book 1 of a 14-book series by author, playwright, and filmmaker L. Frank Baum. The series was extremely popular and their author became famous from writing them.

Book 6 of the Oz series, The Emerald City of Oz (1910), is a great read. It follows two converging point-of-view narratives with Dorothy on a cutesie-pie walkabout through the realm while the Nome King, Roquat the Red, prepares a subterranean invasion of Oz. The invasion story is wholesome fun, but I want to focus on one of Dorothy's encounters, during her visit to Bunnybury.

Here's her description of the place:

Dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she gave a gasp of surprise. The high marble wall extended all around the place and shut out all the rest of the world. And here were marble houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the sky....

But the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things Dorothy saw. The streets were full of them, and their costumes were so splendid.... Silks and satins of delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every costume sparkled with exquisite gems.

Yes, Dorothy goes to the land of the rabbits, and lunches with their King (Chapter 20).

And check out what he says to her:

"I've often thought," said Dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it would be fun to be a rabbit."

"It is fun—when you're the genuine article," agreed his Majesty. "But look at me now! I live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. I have all I want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. Every day I must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. Rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones I care about. When I walk out I can't hop and run; I must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! And the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'Hail to the King!' Now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?"

So many elements of Dany's desolation in Meereen are laid out right here. The complaint about uncomfortable showy clothes and of feeling confined in splendor befitting a ruler. Also the fatigue with ceremony and attention, all "pomp and foolishness" making the monarch "miserable".

By the way, after luncheon, the king presents an acrobatic dance show for his guest (Chapter 21):

"It is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. We will now present the Royal Band of Whiskered Friskers."

As he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the Whiskered Friskers. They were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. Their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white.

After bowing before the King and Dorothy the Friskers began their pranks, and these were so comical that Dorothy laughed with real enjoyment. They not only danced together, whirling and gyrating around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was hard work to keep track of them. Finally they all made double somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room.

Compare their frisking with this moment from ADWD Dany III:

As the drums reached a crescendo, three of the girls leapt above the flames, spinning in the air. The male dancers caught them about the waists and slid them down...

On second thought, best not. L. Frank Baum was definitely not thinking of topless dancing bunny pornography here and neither should you.

Look, I'm not saying that GRRM was explicitly or intentionally referencing this scene or that we can know for sure he ever read it, without Word of GRRM one way or the other. But I do think the books can be read as a delicious gumbo of all kinds of cultural influences beyond his deconstruction of Tolkien-inspired epic fantasy like Tad Williams's Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn tetralogy. Reminders of ASOIAF scena are everywhere; some of my personal favorites are: The Godfather, The Court Jester, I, Claudius (short version), I, Claudius (long version), and Gone With the Wind.

GRRM has an uncanny ability to remix motifs from across multiple genres, formats, and cultural eras into something that feels both familiar and startlingly original, something with the capacity to constantly reinvent itself anew. It's an ability that he happens to share with the original Wizard himself, an entertainer and storyteller writing over 100 years ago about strangers in strange lands and the magic and wonder that they find there.

What do you think? Have you noticed other elements borrowed or referenced from the original American fantasy realm, the marvelous Land of Oz? Or other cultural references that seem underappreciated?

originally posted at https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/8laanv/spoilers_adwd_wearing_the_floppy_ears_a_1910/

[lifechanyuan]

Emotion, Love, Sex, Beauty and the Way of Nature

Xuefeng

April 4, 2012

(Translation edited by Jejing)

Gentle breezes blow, white clouds drift, green mountains layer upon layer, birds fly freely, flowers bloom and wither, tides rise and fall, morning light shines, and sunsets glow. Grasses and trees are lush, flowers are in full bloom, rivers rush, and streams babble. All of this is nature, all unfolding in the way of nature. Spring brings growth, summer flourishes, autumn harvests, winter stores; growth and decay, formation and dissolution, the alternation of seasons, and the cycle of life are all natural, all thriving and waning within the way of nature.

Young girls awaken to spring, young men experience their first emissions, romance blossoms, and the union of yin and yang—all these are natural, all arise within the way of nature.

The way of nature is the way of the Greatest Creator, the ultimate way of the universe, the most perfect way in space and time.

Emotion is the spice of life, the form and function of sex (or nature). All things are infused with emotion; all beings are sentient. Emotion is the ultimate expression of the way of nature.

Love is the dance of emotions among those who attract, harmonize, and resonate with each other. It is the deepest essence of all life’s continuity, a combination of all beautiful things and a source of nourishment.

Sex (or nature) is the essence of life; it is life itself. All things and phenomena are expressions, manifestations, and blossoms of sex.

Beauty is the outward expression of life’s essence. It is the core element that makes the world vibrant and fascinating, the melody and dance of light’s many wavelengths.

Emotion, love, sex, and color are all manifestations of nature and its most primitive essence. They are the most valuable components of life, the source of all pleasures, and the essential forces that sustain life.

The vibrant and colorful splendor of the world is due to emotion, love, sex, and beauty. Without them, the world would be barren, lifeless, devoid of vitality, joy, and meaning. It would be cold, bleak, indifferent, and dead.

Willows sway, bamboo bends gracefully, birds sing melodiously, swans glide, peacocks fan their feathers, mandarin ducks play in the water, tender gazes and shared drinks under the moonlight, babbling streams, and lush green mountains—all of these are emotions, ripples, and waves of sentiment.

Flowers exude fragrance, fruits hang heavy on the branches, cows and sheep calmly nurse, the sunset bathes the mountains and rivers—all of these represent love, the blossoming and overflow of affection.

Majestic mountains, rushing rivers, towering peaks, valleys emerging from the mist, birds soaring in clear skies, fish swimming in the waters, peonies in full bloom, and butterflies fluttering—these all represent sex, the expression and exuberance of nature.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—a rainbow arches over mountains, wildflowers bloom, greenery thrives, parrots and nightingales flaunt their beauty, jade, agate, and coral reefs shine, and the multicolored sparkle of diamonds—all these represent color, its brilliance and grace.

Emotion, love, sex, and color are masterpieces of nature, expressions of the natural world. Without them, would nature still be nature? It would be hell, a gathering of demons.

Humans are the essence of nature, so we should fully embody the fragrance and nectar of emotion, love, sex, and color.

Without emotion, a person becomes unfeeling, devoid of interest, cold, expressionless, cruel, like a mummy.

Without love, a person becomes greedy, selfish, jealous, combative, inherently lazy, and repulsive, like a demon.

Without sex, a person cannot distinguish yin from yang, right from wrong, lacks understanding of principles, cannot tell good from evil, beauty from ugliness, fragrance from stench, rendering them useless, without offspring.

Without color, a person’s face is like dead ash, lifeless, eyes vacant, devoid of beauty. Such a life is worse than dung.

Some people practice Buddhism, claiming that emotion, beauty, and sex are desires to be transcended. What nonsense! The more you transcend emotion, beauty, and sex, the more you become a demon, a zombie, a mummy.

Some people practicing Buddhism claim that they no longer need emotion, beauty, and sex and aim to focus solely on reaching the Elysium World. This is an affront to Buddha and the Elysium World. Without emotion, love, sex, and beauty, what is the point of reaching the Elysium World? Without these, can it still be Elysium? How can you find bliss without them?

Some say that emotion, beauty, and sex deplete energy, causing it to flow out. What nonsense! I’ve never heard of energy flowing in sewage pipes, of energy being depleted in the toilet, or of sexual union actually draining energy.

I’ve even heard that those who enjoy emotion, love, sex, and beauty will struggle to achieve enlightenment. That’s pure nonsense. Without emotion, love, sex, and beauty, what are you striving for in enlightenment? Does enlightenment lack these elements? Enlightenment devoid of emotion, love, sex, and beauty is no true enlightenment—it’s a distortion, definitely not true enlightenment. Such a path is like dog feces, horse urine, scabs, or filthy, sticky pus.

Buddhism doesn't even understand the origins of the universe and life; it’s nonsense! All day chanting, burning incense, and bowing with no joy, no vitality, living in a dreamlike stupor, straying from the way of nature—what is that worth? Nothing! Even comparing such a study to nonsense is too kind; it’s worse than that.

What is Buddha? Is something without emotion, without love, without sex, without beauty considered Buddha? It doesn’t even compare to dog feces.　

Some people practice Buddhism and say that one should reject and transcend sex. This is utter ignorance, not even knowing where fart comes from. Buddha himself embodies sex. Without sex, can there be a Buddha? Can you achieve Buddhahood if you transcend sex? Can you even transcend sex? Without sex, you wouldn’t even exist, so how could you transcend it? Even if you could transcend sex, what would remain? What would be left in this vast world?

In short, to achieve a wonderful life and a bright future, one must immerse oneself in emotion, love, sex, and beauty, rather than distancing oneself from them. Immersing oneself brings vibrant splendor, overwhelming beauty, and boundless vitality; distancing oneself results in desolate wastelands, howling ghosts, lifelessness, and endless suffering.

Additional Content:

Fayan celestial: Excellent article! Every mental constraint can bind human nature! This article can remove the mental constraints in people’s hearts!! Haha!

In fact, the key issue is not what to do, but how to do it. And how to do it reflects a person’s spiritual quality and conscious thinking! A perfect spirit involves continually transforming consciousness and changing thinking.

Emotion, love, sex, and beauty are not about whether one should engage in them or not, but whether one’s spirit is perfect, whether it has transformed from mundane to celestial in these aspects, from attachment to freedom and liberation!

A spiritually perfect person is not attached to emotion, love, sex, or beauty, nor trapped by them. Emotion, love, sex, and beauty are the most basic and vital elements of nature or life.

Instead of transcending emotion, love, sex, and beauty, one should understand how to elevate them! This is the true meaning of cultivation and practice!

However, all of this involves a process of self-evolution and sublimation!

In essence, all activities of the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind should not be clung to. One must learn to face them with a heart that is detached or naturally free, which is true awakening, and thus achieve the state of non-action where nothing is left undone!

As for energy loss, I believe it is not about the activities of emotion, love, sex, and beauty themselves, but about where the mind and consciousness are focused!

[libidomechanica]

“Whose part where ’‘twas dusk; she was a gift’”

The bowl was to a forests; I give ourself she     stood about these and thy lodger, my humble as tender age deprest, the bush my bedde,     that at other sex and our own Ellis

Island, one is tongue and Satyrs knelt; at lengthen’d     ears it should not will.—Lovely was sexually to the tomb to commands doth the     foaming or the first, and dost the Kingdom

of that make a stoop’d falcon ere his moderate:     fixed my dainty mistresses are merely supply: so subjects love these forest one     hath to say, could our music which wel

could so sore, hey ho! To glances of battle move,     or leave of herbs, both bald crown, went thus’: most despise, yet in his Tears turn’d the leant than     the triple league decrees of unlovely

state the joys refin’d of Separation     last moment person up, purple flakes, break a single virtue with free the mad poets     first fruite such firm and cowslip’d lawn; from

Mortal eyes full cold as wanting? Even that vanish’d     head, who fondly lov’d them. If that was so great among? The last so durable and     Taste, the that spangled into a few

Persian mutes, white as good instruct things in wedlock.     Into a fear, hot, glaz’d, and hour sharper sense it stird vp that if evolution—oh,     should inhabited her eyes: by love

is an arrow-straightway I went to forget: the     tide; the other airt, and ga’e yourself for rays of that blow. She dwelt but perfet harmony:     but if the while the winds that

molehills are weak race of the darkened all the woman’s     mouth where the fancy. Since their Jaws blood and being dream thereby like a Jugler come,     come, leave thy flight. Had it any tyrant,

Time’s pencil drew what is anywhere to see     that had large an ominous pine; or whereby ribbands that she waste, that made returning,     hunting please my gain. Whose part where twas

dusk; she was a gift. No sounds doth it and glorious     sun stained about you made. That name special, that, where so well as not hearts are both please     a nations of liuely heat may come

between us now, I dropped my darkling shafts of     ancient fable as through time, and she virtues raise is due at an Eurydice; for that     dies with holds my deserving sweet rose,

the merciless Tyranny which, erring dance is     press a depth below; the lees. I am beauty, so he burns a pile of dirt is purest     anybody should inhabited

her ruin end? Debased to duty by     superior far to human climes, and I. Down to all with it any sparkling verse,     sound with his future waiter brother

hair, still doost it dearly! When in jealousy. What     is my freedom of Manhattan is yon moon which doth inuite such the phenomenological     space opens where you are

thou leave me fro shame, as he not this. But our own     worth given, was best, the whole fief, in all Minds beyond the flattring from blame me then, my     absence Heaven once I sang alone

for the little space, the gate. Hath now at dawn and     more by water-world? Her sweet Silvia, let’s not tell what now at dawn you must charms, that     blow. Now called by the Dust! Departed,

most rude affray, for ignorance is Folly needs     let me in ever love there I will leaves linnet’s pipe the was a gordian splendor     out. Where in its heap’d late on the lie!

[chirpq]

145+ Heartfelt Good Morning Thursday Wishes and Quotes

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Good Thursday morning! Let's make today amazing. Happy Thursday! The weekend is at the door. It's Thursday, my friend, so let's start the day! Good Morning! Thursday, blessings to you. Thursday: the wind-up to this week. Good Morning! You are beginning your Thursday with a grateful heart. Good Morning! Morning, Thursday! Let's do this!

Good Morning Thursday Wishes Happy Thursday morning! Smile and be awesome. Morning! Embrace Thursday with positivity. Thursdays at hand mean much hope. Have a great one!

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Morning! I hope you enjoy good vibes and positivity today, your Thursday! Rise and shine! Sending you all the positive vibrations for a beautiful Thursday. Read More: 140+ Promotion Wishes for Husband: Celebrate His Success Happy Thursday! Let's make today amazing. Good Morning! Today is yours; what a perfect day full of chances and success. Here is the wake-up of Thursday, and remember to start the day with this magic! Good Morning! May you meet today in front of it as inspiring as your smile. Hello Thursday! Let's create the most beautiful weed and makeup as seen in the mirror the whole day.

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Good Morning Thursday wishes in English.

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All the great things in the world come out of love. Happy Thursdays, and stay joyful! I wish you to get thrilled, though not zapped like your laughonic smile jump. I give you good nature and positivity today, this wonderful Thursday! Wake up to the world's loveliness and grant daylight a chance to connect with the joy within! Read More: 149+Inspiring Good Morning Tuesday Blessings Images, Quotes With humor and love, here's to a bally Thursday! May your Thursday be the color of a natural field of wildflowers now! I hope today's downgraded winds and cloudy skies give you a great Thursday work day! We will make this Thursday a memorable day with warm smiles and friendship. I send you all my well wishes for a sun-kissed day and for you to enjoy every single moment of it! I wish you a very lovely Thursday with life's abundant joys!

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Let your Thursday run with millions of opportunities, and your blessing explode. Get ready this Thursday with the love and determination to change. Now, allow this Thursday morning to be the flare that lights up deep inside you, fueling you with strong belief. May every sunrise on this Thursday remind you that you are not the end of your work; you are an infinite resource. I Hope Thursday blessed you as much as the morning has renewed this day. Begin the Thursday with a smile, and let it spread throughout yours. Let today begin the change that will be the power of life, my world. Read More: 180+ Good Morning Saturday Quotes, Wishes, Blessings As the sun peeks over the mountain today and we glimpse each new day, may you find light and hope? Best wishes to you today. May it be one of these joyful, laughing, and appealing moments. May you take it all, this Thursday's dawning, to your heart and life goals.

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Have a wonderful Thursday! Stay positive and productive. Happy Thursday! Let's make today amazing. Enjoy your awesome Thursday!

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Good morning. Beat the hump day concept and make Thursday a favorite day of your week. What waking up to a beautiful Thursday! Let it be a great day. Good morning. Let's collectively collectively make today's Thursday a productive one. Happy Thursday morning! Shine, glitter, and be the beam of sunshine. Good morning. This is the day when your trouble leaves you, put a smile on your face.

Thursday Morning Greeting Messages

Morning! I am looking forward to a cheerful Thursday of yours. Hello Thursday! I hope your mornings are full of good energy. Good morning. Have a lovely and blessed day!

Happy Thursday morning! Let's make today special. Good morning. Begin your Thursday with a smile and a peaceful mind.

Good Morning and Happy Thursday Messages

Good day, and it's already Thursday! May your day be a good one. Rise and shine! Hoping you have a good Thursday. Read More: 101+You are So Beautiful Quotes & Messages for Special One’s Morning! Good morning. May you stay blessed and infection-free today. Happy Thursday! Begin your day with a significant smile. Good morning. Hoping your Thursday is joyful and works out just fine.

Good Morning Thursday Messages

Good morning. May you have a joyful Thursday. Happy Thursday morning! Start each day with a good mood. Good mMorning Good Morning Do not let this lovely Thursday go to waste.

Good luck to all for the fabulous Thursday morning! Good morning. May the rest of the day be great. Cheers.

Good Morning, Thursday. Inspirational Blessings

Good morning. I pray that your Thursday will flourish by divinity. Happy Thursday! May your day be filled with blessings from God. Read More: 101+You are So Beautiful Quotes & Messages for Special One’s Good morning. I hope you get inspiration from the little moments every day. May you have an extremely fruitful and inspiring Thursday morning of yours. Good morning. May God's grace walk with you on your Thursday.

Enjoy Your Thursday Messages

Good morning, My good sir. May this Thursday be opened with insight. Happy Thursday! On this day, may the divine be a blessing to you continually. Good morning. May the significantly fewer minutes of your day be filled with inspiration.

May you have a memorable and inspiring Thursday early morning. Morning! The Grace of God to touch on your Thursday.

Cheerful Good Morning Happy Thursday Quotes

"Good morning. Each Thursday is a sparkling chance to show the world what an absolute star I am. " " Warm greetings for this Thursday, friends! You can choose to be positive today." Read More: 101+You are So Beautiful Quotes & Messages for Special One’s "Morning people! Take the chance to realize the great potential of this great Thursday. "Happy Thursday! Let positivity and joy be the leading principles of your being today. "Hello! May you be happy every Thursday; you should treasure them."

Good Morning. Have a Wonderful Thursday. Messages

"Good morning. Each Thursday is a sparkling chance to show the world what an absolute star I am. " " Warm greetings for this Thursday, friends! You can choose to be positive today." "Morning people! Take the chance to realize the great potential of this great Thursday.

"Happy Thursday! Let positivity and joy be the leading principles of your being today. "Hello! May you be happy every Thursday; you should treasure them."

Happy Thursday! Have a Great Day. Messages

Happy Thursday! Have a Great and fullfing time. Happy Morning! Today will be a good day for you. Read More: 80+ Inspiring Good Evening Blessings & Evening Quotes Happy Thursday! Make today the best day yet. I hope you will have an enjoyable Thursday! Have a great day. Happy Thursday! May Your Day be as Large as you are.

Good Morning, Thursday Greetings

Good morning. Happy Thursday to you. Blissfully state the fact that it is a beautiful Thursday morning! Happy Morning! May your Thursday be fresh and happy.

Happy Thursday morning! Make your mornings lovely. Morning! Enjoy the superb Thursday!

Thursday Good Morning Messages

Good morning. Have a fantastic Thursday. I am wishing you a beautiful and productive Thursday morning. Read More: 99+Loving Good Evening Messages,Quotes,for someone special Good morning. May your Thursday be filled with joy. Happy Thursday! Start your day with a smile. Happy Morning! Have a wonderful Thursday.

Happy Good Morning Thursday Messages

Happy Thursday! Good morning. Let's have a great day. Good morning. Happy Thursday to you. I wish you much happiness and joy today. Read More: 99+Loving Good Evening Messages,Quotes,for someone special Morning! Have a fantastic and glorious Thursday. Happy Thursday! May your morning be dull with happiness.

Good Morning Thursday Motivational Messages

Happy Thursday! Good morning. Let's fight the Thursday with determination. Happy Thursday! Go for it and realize your dreams. Read More: Top 180+ Graduation Wishes for Daughter Inspire Her Future Good morning. Be unstoppable this Thursday. Make sure to stay motivated and energized today. Let us work together for a thriving Thursday. Morning! Let's shoot away the ineffectiveness with this Thursday's positivity and creativity.

FAQ's

What is a good morning message for Thursday?

Good morning Good Morning! ☀️ Happy Thursday! As the week progresses, allow yourself to look at how far you've come and visualize what remains in the coming days. Today is a fresh day to move closer to your desires, accept new challenges, and express the little things here and now. Good morning Have a productive day with plenty of joy and even a few of relaxation. Keep it up, and take advantage of this beautiful day!

How do I wish someone a happy Thursday?

To wish someone a happy Thursday, you can use a friendly and personalized message I wrote special. Here are a few ideas: "Have a great hump day! I wish you a fun day." "May you have a wonderful Thursday with joy and success!" "Happy with your Thursday! Make it a useful one. " "Cutting to the chase, have a lovely Thursday. It is almost the weekend. " "Keep smiling; I hope your Thursday is as bright as you are!"

How do you wish a perfect morning?

Wishing someone a particularly good morning can be made more meaningful by adding a personal touch. Here are a few ideas: "Good morning. I hope you have a nice day, just as you are amazing. " "I wish you a lovely morning with sunshine and a smile all over the dew drops. " "Rise high up! Let your day shine brightly with happiness and prosperity. "Hi! I just wanted to tell you how perfect you are. " "I wish you a morning as bright and beautiful as your smile, and let it be the best!"

What is the best to say good morning

Here are a few versatile and heartfelt options: "Good morning. Hope you have a fantastic day! "Wishing you a nice morning and a great day today!" "Good morning. I wish you a day filled with positivity and prosperity." "Hello! I hope today will be as satisfying as you dream!" "Good morning. I hope you can feel the positive vibrations I am sending you." Read the full article

[ethanielwasborn]

On this felicitous day, I extend to you the warmest and most exuberant of felicitations. As the chronicles of your existence unfold with each passing year, the magnificence of your journey becomes increasingly apparent. Your presence, a symphony of resplendence, has enriched everyone surround you upon life beyond measure. As you celebrate another year of life, I am filled with overwhelming admiration and thankfulness for the remarkable individual you have. Words cannot delineate the profundity of my gratitude for your presence here: I’ve always been fascinated by your character and how you present yourself to the world. Lot of things might have occurred in your life that you didn’t expect to change bizarrely. But you’ve managed to conquer every single obstacles one by one upon your path, and I believe that you will strive more to courageously nail it again even by the new beginning of your new age. “[...] May, 19 | Thank you for remaining a resilient individual up to this point, Ethaniel. I am surely beyond grateful to know you. I will always take pride in the person you have become and I hope you continue to grow stronger, ready to face any challenges that lie ahead.” Today heralds a momentous occasion to revel in the splendor of your life and the extraordinary milestones you’ve attained. I beseech everlasting felicity, a life enriched with triumph, and bountiful blessings bestowed upon you henceforth. May this occasion be a jubilant celebration imbued with effervescent mirth, where laughter cascades like stardust and joy resonates through the celestial spheres. My prayers extend to everlasting happiness, a thriving life, and the multitude of good things the world can bestow upon you from today onward.

I wish to celebrate your accomplishments, your journey, and the wonderful person you’ve become. May you keep shining brightly, just like the wonderful person you are. May your days be bedecked with serendipitous moments and the ineffable beauty that only you can conjure. As my pen dances across these pages, I am enamored by the singular essence of your being. With utmost earnestness, I assure you that greatness awaits you, you are deeply cherished and loved profoundly. You are truly one of the greatest blessings in everyone’s life, and celebrating this day with you brings me immense joy. May your study and all the things you need to finish academically will be successful, may you will be bequeathed with health and wealth. Take heed, for God holds the most auspicious designs for your trajectory, and the most resplendent moments have yet to unfurl. May the benevolent pronouncements bestowed upon you on this day be extended not merely to this individual solar year, but for manifold cycles to follow. My endearment and entreaties shall perpetually be voiced in your favor.

Sincerely written, Carl Serafin.

[worldofchristmas]

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[monsterboyfriend]

You are very wise for your age, fledgling.

To answer your question, as much as vampirism is a curse, it is also a gift. It is a curse for what you lose: the taste of good food, centuries of sunlight, your philosophies, growing and aging, your mortal friends and family. And as you've mentioned, languages, cultures, your entire understanding of the world and its people. Vampirism can be torture and at times, desperately lonely. It is important that fledglings understand this pain at an early age.

But there is also great joy in vampirism. You enjoy the taste of good blood, the beauty of moonlit nights in all their enhanced splendor, new philosophies, growing into a powerful being, new vampiric friends and family (if you know how to keep them). Many vampires act as though we are cursed to live in stasis, but all we do is adapt and change. At least, the long-lived ones do. There are so many things to see and do and look forward to in this world. New curiosities and innovations. Countries rising and falling. Cultures and languages morphing and changing into new, beautiful things for us to marvel at and understand once more. And TECHNOLOGIES!!! If I had lived a mortal life, I would have never discovered my favorite website, tumblr.com! My grandfledglings would have never introduced me, nor would they ever BE my grandfledglings. Think of all of the things we miss by throwing away our immortality!

It hurts your maker deeply to see such a gift wasted. I have lost my own fledgling to the sun, and truthfully, I never recovered from the loss. I don't hate my son for his choice, but I blame myself for his weakness. I never disciplined him as I did my other fledglings, and that was a weakness in me that I paid dearly for.

There are times, especially as of late, where I've thought of dying, or at least a sleep of ages, but then I remember this:

The eternity of death and the eternity of living are both terrifying things. But living is never final (as all vampires, even ancient ones, can die), nor is it nothingness. It is ENDLESS POSSIBILITY!!!

But whether your "millennial" status refers to your mortal birth or your vampiric one, you are too young to worry about these things. You are right that I am jealous! I remember when this was all so new and exciting for me! Mind your maker, and listen to them, but go out and enjoy your fledglinghood!!!

"Never, EVER raise your hand to a fledgling" What a bunch of WOKE nonsense! You know, when I was a fledgling, my maker beat my ass AT LEAST three times a week because I would mouth off and get into some bullshit. Built character. Kept me out of trouble. Taught me to respect my elders AND the Great Laws.

Fledglings these days don't respect either of those things. They're insolent. Reckless. No sense of decorum. Just take that Molloy kid. Running around out in the mortal world spilling our secrets and stirring up shit. You know he doesn't even have a maker because he goes around asking every vampire who can hear him, "Have you seen my maker? Have YOU seen my maker?" I'd feel bad for him if he'd just learned to keep his mouth shut.

If he HAD a respectable maker who wasn't a lousy deadbeat, the little shit'd get his ass beat so hard he'd be in coffin for a MONTH, Satan bless. And ALL of this bullshit could've been avoided. But now I'm gonna get CANCELED for saying it!

[patheticbatman]

July 2019 Story

I deleted the original post, so here's a redo! I think I wrotw this when I was 16 or 17?

Once upon a time there was a king and a queen, who said everyday, "Oh, if only we had a child!" but they never received one. 

Then it happened one day while the queen was sitting in her bath, that a frog crept out of the water onto the ground and said to her, "Your wish shall be fulfilled, and before a year passes you will bring a daughter into the world." 

What the frog said did happen, and the queen gave birth to a girl who was so beautiful that the king could not contain himself for joy, and he ordered a great celebration. He invited not only his relatives, friends, and acquaintances, but also the wise women so that they would be kindly disposed toward the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but because he had only twelve golden plates from which they were to eat, one of them had to remain at home. 

The feast was celebrated with great splendor, and at its conclusion the wise women presented the child with their magic gifts. 

The eleventh one had just pronounced her blessing when the thirteenth one, Invidia, suddenly walked in. She wanted to avenge herself for not having been invited, and so cast a freezing spell to keep the inhabitants of the hall still. Invidia stalked over to the cradle, all eyes of the hall on her. As she crouched at the foot of the cradle to peer at the baby, she snickered maliciously and declared to the , "In the princess's sixteenth year she shall prick herself with a spindle and fall over dead." And without saying another word she disappeared. 

Everyone was horrified, and the twelfth wise woman, who had not yet offered her wish, stepped forward. She was unable to undo the wicked wish, and only had the time to soften it, for the magic was fading away, and so she said, "It shall not be her death. Rosaline, as well as the kingdom, will only fall into a hundred-year deep sleep. And then, when an act of true” - here she mumbled a bit, trying to find the right term to the spell but then settling for the first word to pop into her head- “goofiness is done, after a hundred years of slumber, the spell will be broken.” The other wise women glared at her, thinking she had deliberately made fun of the tried and true traditional spell, but she just shrugged. “It was the best I could do, ladies! You know how I panic under time constraints! It had to be done now!” 

The king, wanting to rescue his dear child, issued an order that all spindles in the entire kingdom should be put under lock and key, accessible only to certified spinsters, and under no circumstances should they be shown to the princess. 

After that, Rosaline simply grew up. It soon became apparent that the wise women's gifts were all fulfilled on the girl, for she was so beautiful, well behaved, friendly, and intelligent that everyone who saw her had to love her. 

Now it happened that on the day when Rosaline turned sixteen years of age the king and the queen were in the gardens, about to send a guard to watch Rosaline, and the girl was all alone in the castle. She walked around from one place to the next, looking into rooms and chambers as her heart desired. Finally she came to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow, winding stairs and arrived at a small door. In the lock there was a rusty key, and when she turned it the door sprang open. There in a small room sat an old woman with a spindle busily spinning her flax. 

"Good day, ma’am," said Rosaline. "What are you doing there?" 

"I am spinning," said the old woman, nodding her head. 

"What is that thing that is so merrily bouncing about?" asked the girl, taking hold of the spindle, for she too wanted to spin. 

Rosaline had no sooner touched the spindle when the magic curse was fulfilled, and she pricked herself in the finger. The old woman, who was actually Invidia in disguise, cackled and disappeared from the castle. The instant that she felt the prick she fell onto a bed that was already there, and she lay there in a deep sleep. And this sleep spread throughout the entire castle. The king and queen, who had just come inside, walked into the hall and began falling asleep, and all of their attendants as well. The horses fell asleep in their stalls, the dogs in the courtyard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the walls, and even the fire on the hearth flickered, stopped moving, and fell asleep. The roast stopped sizzling. The cook, who was about to pull the kitchen boy's hair for having done something wrong, let him loose and fell asleep. The wind stopped blowing, and outside the castle not a leaf was stirring in the trees. 

Round about the whole country a thorn hedge began to grow, and every year it became higher, until it finally surrounded and covered the entire place. Finally nothing at all could be seen of it, not even the tops of the trees. 

A legend, based on what information about the curse had escaped the land, circulated throughout the land about the beautiful Sleeping Beauty, Rosaline’s true name forgotten. Legends also told that from time to time princes came, wanting to force their way through the hedge into the castle. However, they did not succeed, for the thorns held firmly together, as though they had hands, and the young men became stuck in them, could not free themselves, and died miserably. 

Many long, long years later, once again a prince named Stefan came to the neighboring country. He heard an old man talking about the thorn hedge. It was said that there was a castle behind it, in which a beautiful princess called Sleeping Beauty had been asleep for a hundred years, and with her the king and the queen and all the people were sleeping. He also knew from his grandfather that many princes had come and tried to get through the thorn hedge, but they had become stuck in it and died a sorrowful death. 

Then the young man said, "I am not afraid. I will go there and see the beautiful sleeper." However much the good old man tried to dissuade him, Stefan would not listen to his words, for his curiosity was too great. 

The hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when the Sleeping Beauty was able to awaken. When the prince approached the thorn hedge, it was nothing but large, beautiful flowers that separated by themselves, allowing Stefan to pass through without harm, but then behind him closed back into a hedge. 

The whole countryside was stationary. He eventually made it to the castle, after a couple days travel in the silent still. In the courtyard he saw the horses and spotted hunting dogs lying there asleep, and on the roof the pigeons, perched with their little heads tucked under their wings. When Stefan walked inside the flies were asleep on the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding up his hand as if he wanted to grab the boy, and the maid was sitting in front of the black chicken that was supposed to be plucked. He walked further and saw all the attendants lying asleep in the hall, and above them near the throne the king and the queen were lying. He walked on still further, and it was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat. Finally he came to the tower and opened the door to the little room where Rosaline was sleeping. 

There she lay, a girl so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her. Stefan suddenly got a strange compulsion, and bent over and gave her a boop on the nose. As soon as he touched her, Rosaline opened her eyes, awoke, and looked at him, grinning. After all, only an act of true goofiness could break the spell. 

They went downstairs together, and the king awoke, and the queen, and all the royal attendants, and they looked at one another in amazement. The horses in the courtyard stood up and shook themselves. The hunting dogs jumped and wagged their tails. The pigeons on the roof pulled their little heads out from beneath their wings, looked around, and flew into the field. The flies on the walls crept about again. The fire in the kitchen rose up, broke into flames, and cooked the food. The roast began to sizzle once again. The cook boxed the boy's ears, causing him to cry, and the maid finished plucking the chicken. 

Eventually, Stefan got engaged and the prince's marriage to Rosaline was celebrated with great splendor, and they lived happily until they died. 

THE END 

Sleeping Beauty Explanation 

So, as you might of deduced, I changed the kissing breaking the spell to booping her nose. Again, I just didn’t like the whole kissing without her knowledge thing. In the original story, there is 13 wise women, a nice term for witch, so I kept that. I don’t think the 13th wise woman was originally evil, and that she only felt slighted, however her evilness fit so I kept it. 

At first, I was going to draw all the wise women, but I realized I didn’t know how to stage it. So instead, I drew what Invidia (a name that means Goddess of Justice) would’ve looked like from Rosaline’s eyes (Rosaline = English variant of Rosalinda, or Lovely Rose), and I made her really creepy. It was actually inspired by a really creepy mask I drew in English class (we were reading a peaceful and beautiful piece at the time, so I don’t know where it came from). It was also partially inspired by Dr. Facilier (the villain from ‘The Princess and the Frog’) in the transformation scene and the Catrinas (skulls) of the Day of the Dead. If you’d rather see more 

of the Disney approach to the character, they actually made a whole movie about her, called Maleficent. It’s pretty cool. 

The sign with the dead body picture isn’t exactly what I would’ve imagined for the Princes in the thorns, but I didn’t know how to draw them and I think this looks cool. For the first reason, I always imagined their bodies sort of woven into the roses, not even pierced, but just stuck and perfect, with no decay. To my second reason, I think it shows the strength and danger of the vines, being able to strike out and kill the (honestly kind of stupid) princes who didn’t wait until the hundred years were over, and still be able to hold up the body despite having at least 30 pounds of weight hanging off that branch. 

Slight side note: In the original Grimm story, the action is pretty mild and there are no real consequences for anyone. The lone cruelty of the roses, killing those princes, may have been a reference to the older tale of ‘Sun, Moon, and Talia’ from the Italian story collection ‘Pentamerone’. It is a lot darker and I think the Grimm Brothers, despite happily sentencing the ‘evil’ Jews to horrid fates in many of their tales, felt squicky enough about the original tale that they sanitized it. 

The final picture, of Rosaline getting booped on the nose, is drawn like that partially because I wanted to practice a side-profile portrait of someone sleeping. I think it also serves to give a peaceful conclusion to the other pictures, as it is pretty pacific in comparison. 

The prince isn’t really shown here because I feel like he was barely needed for the happily ever after - it could’ve been literally anyone who managed to break the curse after the initial 100 years. So, he’s barely there. 

This is a short story, but I think I showed the appropriate amount of pictures for it. Besides, I was kind of itching to get started on The Little Mermaid’s drawings. 

Original link here