#monarch beta

[ghostedgrim]

So there are like hundreds of interpretations of merfolk. One of my favorites is the Monarch Beta. Mostly because they tie in beauty and danger.

So it is a subspecies of mermaid that are known for being rare and elusive. I like to imagine they'd live around an isolated and extremely deeps coves, making their homes in underwater cliffs. The Beta Monarch can live to be thousands of years old, and can grow to be 20ft long (human upper body takes up 2ft-3ft obvious smaller if baby).

Monarch comes from their sheer size, regal look, and the fact that they prey on smaller species of merfolk. (Don't worry they enjoy clams, fish and other stuff). Beta comes from the appearance of their tails. The average tail of an adult ranges from 16-20ft, most have vibrant iridescent colors and their tails are somewhat covered with many long and wide (3-5ft) whispy fins, (like a beta fish and all their dramatic fins).

Culture wise, very territorial, and they love collecting trinkets (like crows) and braid said trinkets into their hair, or into handmade sachels or articles of clothing worn around the waist and arms. They tend to be curious, mostly while young. When pregnant (lasts about 9 months) the female will build a nest and during the last 4 months she will not leave the nest, or her home cave, until after birth. During that time, the mate is constantly hunting to bring food and nest materials to their mate. Because of this, most Beta Monarchs interested in a female will present shiny and pretty trinkets as a form of courting to show how well they are at hunting and scavenging.

Powers: The Monarch Beta can change their gender and sex at any time, however the ability is kinda like a muscle so unless they're genderfluid, the ability will slowly weaken and fade the longer they stay as their chosen gender. Some can also turn into human.

I also kinda find the idea of their human or fey lover struggling to carry them. Like the mermaid is in their arms bridle style, or over their shoulders and the tail is like wrapped around the lovers waist and neck, with the tailfin still dragging on the floor and the poor lover struggling to ensure they don't step on the fins.

[sentigabrielapologist]

We could see him fighting Ladynoir with the dragon miraculous sword. But not yet since he is so dumb and doesnt have any brains 🤤

[derww]

DAY 18: EXPLOSION

CW: Death, violence

That's what Minute feels when Wemmbu, realizing that he is no longer immortal, rushes to run: superiority.

His last week has been a sequence of failures to the extent that it has destroyed all desire to protect everyone in him. He was crushed, and the only way he knew how to deal with it was to take up the sword. The plan was complicated, but he put everything on the line to bring it to fruition – and oh, fuck, it's worth it. Because only for a moment, but fear flashes in Wemmbu's eyes.

He is not used to getting satisfaction from the weakness of others – he killed people, but it was a task and a job, something detached and infinitely sterile, not deserving of special emotions. In a way, this month has turned him inside out and stitched a new man together.

At first, Wemmbu is sarcastic and ironic, even in such a situation, even being on the verge of death, and he clutches the spyglass tightly in his hand, and explosions rumble from above, but they do not reach them. At one point, no longer able to pretend that the situation is not serious enough, Wemmbu goes quiet.

He dies pitifully, infinitely deep underground, surrounded by obsidian, to the laughter of Minute and his allies, and at the moment when Pentar pierces his stomach and the blow goes through, and Wemmbu suffocates in blood and, it seems, tears, a pulling hum sweeps through the server.

Still smiling, he turns to his friends – and hey, they finally defeated the evil god! The one who took away his presidency! Who messed up the server and pushed his friends into betrayal! What a fitting death for someone so pathetic. He is finally satisfied.

They return to the spawn: Wemmbu is here, frozen in one place at point zero, staring at the wall and desperately trying to move, but being pushed back to his place by an inexorable force.

He should be dead – like everyone else – because it's hardcore, and he was killed. But his divine essence seemed to be trying to argue with the universe itself for the right to continue.

And Minute would never be the same, but he could breathe deeply again, and even though he wasn't working for the future of the entire server, he still had people he really cared about. And they were there, not like those who had spent many months with him only to betray him later.

Trying to find a way to finally get rid of him here and now, they walk around looking for a working way to kill him again. But Wemmbu, even if absolutely helpless, does not drown, does not burn, and is not wounded by the sword – as if, bad thought, he were immortal again, but Minute easily calms himself down, saying that this is impossible.

Wemmbu stares at Pentar in front of him. Even in such a situation, he continues to grin. An unknown force does not allow him to say a word, and they rightly laugh at this. There is no doubt: they have the opportunity to finally deal with this today, and they don't want to wait another minute. And push Wemmbu outside the spawn chunks and bookban him? After all that he had to go through to get here, it sounds like an easy walk.

From time to time, Wemmbu twitches, turns, and shifts his gaze, but they quickly get used to it because he is still unable to really move. What difference does it make that he's struggling if he never gets out? Once upon a time, infinitely long ago, Minute was his friend. He did not understand well what could lead to the current situation.

They're relaxing. It's easy because there's no one else on the server who can beat them. They chat, continuing to come up with ways to simplify their work, to smash Wemmbu's stupid head, finish off the remaining Players and finally go to celebrate the victory. Wemmbu looks at them with a terrible stare. He tries to touch them �� to punch them; he wants to punch them. He fails.

"He shouldn't be immortal," Ash mutters. "I disabled his immortality; he should be equal to an ordinary person for the server. Then why is he-"

Minute is deafened with the heavy and multiplying and pressing to the ground and so loud hum of bans. Right before his eyes, Jumper, Pentar and Asha are being torn to shreds. Not even a body part remains of any of them. But Minute, even if stunned, even if cut, even if almost blinded, but he survives-

Minute survives Minute survives Minute survives Minute survives

A desperate howl bursts from his throat.

Still not fully realizing reality, he looks down, completely dumbfounded. Wemmbu still doesn't move, but his gaze is fixed on Minute. He's not smiling. His hand clutches a spyglass.

[kochengnoir]

Meanwhile me and AI Adrien:

From now on I promise to be nicer to my sunshine boy because Monarch is a b*tch

[pinemartenstudios]

I made another one of these! This time featuring the deep sea Cookies u.u

[silveretta]

Beta request: Monarchs x 21 fic

Dunno if anyone here does beta reads :3 but I could use a 2nd set of eyes on this it and some help punching up the dialogue.

Fic is a little over 6.5k. DM me here or on discord Silveretta2867 if you wanna help. Happy to do beta 4 beta or whatever

polyamory, 5+1, fluff, fluff and feels, getting together, first kiss. takes place through S6/7. SFW.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Centaur King

Yandere Centaur King x Gender Neutral Royal Elf Reader CW: Noncon, kidnapping, massive centaur dick, belly bulge from massive centaur dick, belly bulge from massive load of cum from said massive centaur dick, general yandere behavior. Word Count: 425 (Not beta read and barely edited but I hope you all enjoy, it isn't anything special I just had a centaur craving.)

Being made the centaur ruler's prisoner. You never saw it coming. Peaceful relations had been in place between the centaur kingdom of Crestwood and the elven kingdom of Fallfeather for over 20 years. Resentment between some individuals lingered, but most people were amicable. 

You had been the royal ruler of the elves. A fair monarch who had reigned since your father had perished in the great war before the current treaties with the centaurs had been put into place. 

But the highborn horse-men were playing the long game. If they couldn't take the realm with might and magic, then it would be theirs by other means. 

They had long since gotten your court wizard Elyrifel, the most trusted advisor to the crown, to serve them in their ambitions. 

When King Farendale of the centaurs made his first nonviolent bid for dominion over the elven lands it was through a marriage proposal. Though Elyrifel pushed hard for your acceptance, you refused to hear it out. A merger of two kingdoms wasn't something done so flippantly and you had scarcely met him outside diplomatic functions. 

Though at those functions he had always given you his undivided attention. Much to your annoyance, you thought it was likely feigned to get you to accept one of his many offerings of marriage. 

But a marriage for power wasn't all King Farendale had been after. He had genuinely wanted you for years, ever since his first fell upon your elven form, and his patience had run out. Your grace, regality, and devotion to your subjects had captured his heart even easier than he had captured you.

You had gone to sleep in the safety of your chambers and had woken up in his. Elyrifel had whisked you off to the centaur's kingdom with his magic.

Farendale knew everything would have been better had you been willing. But it was clear that the willing part would just have to come later. As long as you were his to treasure and fuck silly for the rest of your days and his.

You had been forced to marry him with your close allies and friends threatened if you didn't comply in a public ceremony.

And then you were utterly his. 

King Farendale's cock slid into your conveniently stretchy and pliant elven form almost daily. The massive dick leaving a perfect stretched outline in your belly every time it was sheathed within you. His large nuts filled you until it filled your inside and bulged out your belly, dripping everywhere when he finally pulled out.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Opening Night.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Heavy Dissociation, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Manipulation, and Implied Stalking.

Distantly, you could remember how excited you’d been to be invited to the showing.

You’d opened the invitation at your desk, surrounded by a small group of your more friendly coworkers who’d go on to clap and cheer and promise a round of after-hour drinks after you finished reading out the snippet of text scrolled across the cream-colored cardstock. You weren’t special - a small legion of journalists would be invited to write puff-pieces on all the new models and decide which androids were going to be in fashion next season - but you’d loved Teyvat as long as you could remember, spent more of your free time than you cared to admit doing research on robots you’d never be able to afford, not on a salary like yours. It wasn’t a world-changing, earth-shaking accomplishment, but it made you happy. It was something you wanted, and it was something you’d finally gotten your hands on after years of waiting.

You couldn’t remember when your excitement had started to wane. You were still wide-eyed and slack-jawed when you stepped into the venue, an old opera house restored and decorated to better suit the Fontaine Collection’s high-luxury theming. You hadn’t been able to bite back your smile as you kissed the back of a refitted Focalors’ hand (or, Lady Furina’s hand, as she told you to call her in a tone you could only compare to that of a newly-crowned monarch still drinking in her subjects’ attention), and watched Clorinde’s fencing demonstration with the sort of rapt attention most people would save for famous idols and athletes. Even after you lost your photographer in the crowd, your heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette (the brooding, stoic type of this line, you were sure to note when you next found a minute to yourself) offered you a flute of champagne that you readily accepted, and when a roaming Lyney-droid pulled you to the side and offered to show you magic trick with an irresistible glint in his eye, you didn’t think twice before looping your arm through his and letting him guide you to an all-but abandoned backstage area. You thought you might get something exclusive, something to separate you from the crowd of influencers and tabloids who weren’t afraid to promise features that the approachable beta models only half-confirmed. You thought you’d be safe with a premium-grade android hanging off your arm.

Maybe your excitement didn’t wane at all. It’d been there one moment, then gone the next, replaced with a dark coil of dread and some kind of dizzying, vision-blurring nausea. The sharp corner of the vanity bit harshly into the backs of your thighs, the mirror pressed into your back slowly sapping the warmth from your skin and replacing it with something else, a numbing chill you couldn’t seem to shake. Your clothes had been torn to shreds, left to scatter across the dressing room floor, but Lyney was still fully dressed, fully composed; the palest blush painted across his cheeks and his lips ever so slightly parted but all other signs of arousal, of embarrassment absent. You made a mental note to work that into your article. The new models seem to have a shared sense of unwavering confidence– a stark contrast from their more reserved predecessors from Mondstadt and Sumeru. Maybe you’d be able to get a quote from their handlers, if you ever made it back to the show floor.

You’d have to give Lyney his own section, titled something your boss would have to talk to HR about: Teyvat's New Magician is Good With More Than His Cards. You could only feel half of what he was doing to you, shock dulling your already limited senses, but the fingers drawing loose patterns in your clit was near-overwhelming, the feeling of his synthetic cock splitting you open inescapable, unrelenting. He didn’t need to breathe, to worry about things like soreness or bruising or cramps, to do anything but thrust into you at a pace so erratic, so unyielding that it left little room for you to do anything but lie there and take it. His hips were pushed flat against yours, his tip grinding against something soft and unprotected inside of you and drawing out a ragged gasp, a cracked moan. Out of reflex, your hands shot to his shoulders, nails digging into whatever you could reach, and he let out an airy laugh, leaning closer and encouraging you to hold him tighter, to see if you could tear through the faux-skin Teyvat so often advertised as ‘invincible’. That would make headlines, even if it wasn’t likely to cast you in the best light.

His free hand drifted from your hip to your side to your cheek, his knuckles brushing underneath your chin before he cupped your cheek and pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. His saliva was flavored, though you couldn’t say what it was supposed to taste like. Cotten candy, maybe – so cloying and sugary, all specifics were lost to the sweetness. It suited him. If you’d been able to use your hands, you would’ve applauded his developers for their attention to detail.

When he pulled back, he was smiling. There was another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the corner of your jaw. Finally, he settled against your throat – his grin so broad, you could feel his perfect teeth resting against your jugular as he spoke. “They told me I’d be able to find a master tonight. The others aren’t ready yet, but I am. They worked the hardest on me.” He was bragging, transparently and unabashedly. In any other situation, you might’ve thought he was trying to impress you. “I knew it had to be you the moment our eyes met. So cute, so easily impressed – I knew you just had to be mine.”

He seemed to perk up, to catch on something. He pressed the pad of his thumb into your clit, and your entire body jolted. “No, no, that’s not right,” he went on, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be yours.I keep getting that mixed up.”

Faulty programming? It’d be a scandal if it got out, and moreover, it’d be a massive payout if Teyvat decided they preferred to handle things behind closed doors. You bet they’d done it before. Maybe you’d look into that, later on.

Your back arched violently, another pitchy whine bubbling up from some forgotten cavity of your chest. As if in response, he inhaled sharply, buckling against you in the throes of simulated pleasure. His pace sped up, his teeth latching onto the curve of your neck, but any pain it might’ve caused was lost on you, blurred and distorted by the thick rope of tension pulling taut and snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your climax washed over you in slow, throbbing waves, and Lyney was kind enough to pretend he was lost in the same agonizing bliss, to act like that was the reason he was bucking into you so violently.

To act like he had an excuse to do this to you.

He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually stilling inside of you. With his body slotted against yours, his teeth still buried in your skin, he lingered there, only drawing back once your breathing had started to slow and deepen, once you’d stopped shaking underneath him. Even then, he didn’t let you go, didn’t leave you to cry your eyes out in an empty dressing room. Rather, he pressed a quick, fleeting kiss into your forehead before beaming at you - the light in his eyes so bright, you could almost forget it wasn’t real. “I’ll introduce you to my sister. I’m sure she’ll like you, too.”

Right, his sister, Lynette. You hadn’t seen her yet.

She and her twin brother weren’t supposed to be revealed until the show at the end of the night. You doubted anyone had even thought to power them on, yet.

“She’ll be as happy as I am to know we’ll be leaving with such a lovely master.”

[tamayakii]

Fathers Love

notes: honestly i went in so hard without a plan this kinda fell through so I'm so sorry if it sucked, i wrote this in like, an hour with no beta reader or breaks. Sorry homies, this is all u get until i get more inspo <3 tags: @inuyasha330 warnings: angst, daddy daughter angsty, the way i was tempted to make this emotionally incesty but i DIDNT- thank me for that. anyways, dives over the pier.

The atmosphere felt thick around you, sitting in an unfamiliar environment. Your only comfort was your older brother but even then he felt distant, you saw the stars of the galaxy and more; you saw things that amazed you. 

“So this is what I missed out on?” whispering to him, when you had gotten your powers he had offered you a trip through the stars but you had rejected it; terrified of the powers granted to you through your DNA. 

Days before the incident in Chicago, your father had forced you to get a superhero suit when he found out that you too were blessed with the viltrumite powers, promising that he too would train you as he did Mark but; that no matter what you were still his little girl. 

You were always his little girl, when you came into this world Nolan had shed the first tears he ever would shed; he was so fearsomely protective of you. Never letting you go out alone, finally seeing the purpose of the backpack leashes marketed towards parents, always always kept you close to him. Growing up he was your hero, he was your everything. 

Now the suit feels uncomfortably tight with the memory of his words when he saw it on you for the first time, “just like me” he said, back then it was a compliment but now it was your fear.

“Yeah.. it’s amazing. Isn’t it?” Mark replied in turn, looking at you. There’s a pause before he puts his hand on your shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay.” he answers, you want to believe him. You wanted to but your gut told you otherwise but you stifled it. “I hope so.” 

The rest of the flight passed by quickly, with sleeping and eating orange-coloured goo there wasn’t much else to do besides daydream. After a while; all the stars looked the same, passing you by like blurs. 

You wondered about where your father went, leaving Chicago a mess, beating your brother to near death- Leaving the world without a word to you or your mother. How many stars away was he? You were left no time to wonder before Nuolzot announced your arrival, waking your brother up. 

The skies were pink turning into blue, and purple buildings and large arches decorated the sandy planet. The spaceship hummed as it slowly landed, a horde of blue bug people awaited your arrival. 

Cautiously you followed Mark, so close that you were practically his shadow. While he stared in wonderment, you looked for the meteor showers that were supposedly destroying the planet, but there was no sign of them. Only clear skies, no orange fiery balls of death. You held onto Mark's forearm, your gut twisting as Nuolzot took you further from the ship. 

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” Mark questions, you let out a small breath. So he noticed too, you stared at the alien from behind Mark. Face twisting when he answers, forgetting about his own planet's demise that he had cried out about in your backyard before finding your brother at college.

Mark stopped, “The ones that kill billions?” He questions slowly. Stepping in a way that covered you from Nuolzot, as if he was gonna attack as an answer to Mark. But only to leave you two in confusion about his answer, 

“The Monarch will explain all.” You begin to wonder who the Monarch was, what it was. Was there no one else to help this planet? Why come all this way when there must be nearby planets that could help? 

“Your Majesty!!” The alien calls out, pulling you out of your thoughts, “May I present, Invincible and His sibling, Of Earth!” You and Mark stammer before bowing, figuring it was the most respectful thing to do. 

“Hello, Kids.” Shock runs through you like a viper, making your heart drop and your limbs go numb. “It’s been a while.” Your bottom lip quivers and you look up- Dad. There he is, tears fill your lash line as you rack your head for answers, 

“Dad?” Marks voice sounds like the wind, moving farther away. Your brows further, shaking your head as you watch Mark approach him. Memories of childhood and happiness flood through you like a dam broken, the love for your father washes over you before something else hits you. Anger, Despair, Sadness. 

It was like looking the devil in the eye, the same one that had killed thousands. Your fists clench as you step back, lowering your head as you gaze at him through your eyelashes. Body quivering with the amount of power it takes to not scream at him, to hit him, to ask him why he ruined everything. 

And Mark hugs him. He fucking hugs him. It’s like a knife in your heart, biting your lip so hard you taste the iron in your blood. The longer their embrace goes, the longer your heart squeezes. Emotions wrap around you like an old friend amidst the eye of a hurricane, words become distant as you remember all of the pain he put you through, put your mother. Your brother. 

You’re brought back to reality when Marks hand touches your shoulder, Nolans eyes catching yours making you flinch from his gaze. “Guess they don’t know you like we do… Fuck you.” Thats the last word your brother says before he takes off, for a few seconds you look back at him. The man that is your father, he goes to reach out; mouth opening and you take off just like Mark. Catching up to him, tears being blown away by the harsh oncoming wind.

But despite all that, he catches up to you; “you’ll never make it home on your own!” You speed up, leaving Mark and Nolan behind. You wanted your silence to hurt him, to cut him deeper than he cut you but it wasn’t possible because he made a hole in your heart. 

Mark catches back up to you and Nolan follows again, bargaining with Mark. Promising a ship back home, that Nuolzot wasn’t lying. That they do need help. You let out a yell of frustration; can’t they leave you alone? If you had to fly back to earth on your own you will.

You keep flying, even when Mark doesn’t follow anymore. You keep going until you feel your body adjust to the lack of oxygen, till your tears float in the endless void of space.

“Wait! Wait up!” You stop at your brother's voice, lips quivering. “Please. Wait.”

“Look.. just five minutes-” He bargains “What?! No! Absolutely not! I- No! Are you insane?!” You push him away, but he floats back, angering you more. He grabs your forearms, 

“Just five minutes is all. Is there is actual trouble; then we’ll help them out. If not, we can leave. It’s just five minutes.” Mark explains, his dark eyes are wide and begging. 

“..fine. But i’m not saying anything to him.” Mark nodded, before pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay,” he answers gently before flying with you beside him. 

“Five minutes.” Mark orders, Nolan looks at you but you don’t look at him,

 “don’t you wanna say anything to me?” Nolan asks- arms out in defeat. He expected this, expected hatred, expected yelling or anything. Anything but silence. He hated silence. Especially from his little girl, that hurt him the most.  Both you and Mark flew down to the civilization in response, following Nolan through the building. Mark and him made small talk- more like argued. 

You spaced out, trying to bide back the pain that holds you tight, you look up to see another bug alien approach your father and kiss him. Your mouth flies open; Words are exchanged but they’re tuned out. 

Seconds feel like hours, Nolan walks to a crib and realisation hits you hard. You feel sick, he made a new family. You’ve been replaced. You’re not his little girl anymore, you were nothing to him. Bile rises through your throat, 

“I’m gonna be sick” You shout, turning and sprinting out the door to barf into a potted plant, Mark storms out afterwards and Nolan goes chasing, his bug mate as well. “Oh dear- are you okay?” She asks, holding the baby in one arm and the other rubbing your back. You feel bad, normally you would be thankful for any pity when you barf but now her touch makes you wanna scream. Shrugging her off, you sneer at her before storming off as well. 

You see your father and brother, rage making you see red. “What I did on Earth was..” Your fist connects with Nolans jaw as he speaks but it only makes him stumble a bit. 

“Fuck you! Just fuck you!! You get to come to earth and make a family- make us love you as if you loved us and then you fuck off to make a new one!?” You cry out, your voice breaking from the strain on your vocal cords. Nolan rubs his jaw, his eyes hold anything but anger, but youre blind to it. 

“Please... It’s not what you think.” He pleads, holding his hands out. You slap them away and push him, 

“You put me into this fucked up world! You promised me you’d never leave me and look what you did! You left me! You almost killed Mark! Mom cries every night and i don’t know what to do with myself!” You hit his chest, “you said i was your little girl but you left and made a new family like we were nothing! Well fuck you!” You hit his chest over and over again, to no avail. 

“Please. Listen.” He grabs your wrists, “You have to listen. You and your brother need to help these people; if not, viltrumite will kill them. They already know i left my post.” Tears roll down your cheeks,  and you lean your head back and thrust into his nose. 

“Post!? We were just some fucking post to you!? Why do you care about them? Why not us? What about me!?” Headbutting him made no difference, you struggle in his grip. The sight of his babygirl crying broke him; he was supposed to protect you and all he did was hurt you.

“Look i.. I needed you and your brothers' help. They’re good people. We need to save them” 

“What about me dad? What about me? Where were you when i needed saving?” your words fall more gently, and you press your forehead on his chest. You wanted to be his little girl again; giggling in his arms as he swung you around.

“I promise, we can talk about all of this soon. But you have to help me save these people.” 

And like the little girl who did anything for her daddy's approval, you caved. You hung onto that promise, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to keep it but for now, it comforted you, warm like your father's love.

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 4 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 8k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @iweirdthingsblog @huachengsbestie01 @glintneon123

And a huge, huge thanks to my beta @daesukiii !!! Without them, this wouldn't be as good lol

Part 3 &lt;; | > Part 5

***

A large crowd gathered at the pavilion in the middle of the lake. A man-made island, the tall white and red structure was usually the site for banquets, where the ruling monarch entertained guests. The only way on or off was the bridge crossing over the lake around the island, which fit three to four people abreast. Sookmyung’s palanquin barely fit through it, which meant you trailed behind the footmen carrying her across. Several nobles dressed in their finery turned their heads as their queen approached. Nobody cared about the handmaiden coming up behind her. 

"Announcing," the herald cried as his men drummed and blew their horns, "Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong, Duchess of Gyeonggi-do, and Protector of Korea."

The people bowed to her as she reached the pavilion steps, smiling proudly at them. You hurried to fix her long red and gold train before she noticed the wrinkles, and then followed a few feet away. All eyes remained on her until she reached the place of honor at a long table. Usually the royal advisors would be attending a function like this, hoping to put forward their own sons as suitors for the young queen. Yet, when you looked around, you saw not a single one in attendance. You supposed they may come later in the evening; they had important work to do. You did not see Queen Jisoo either, which you found odd considering she arranged this gathering. Sookmyung took her place amongst fellow ladies of the court, and you began serving her a small plate of food. 

"I'm not hungry," she told you right when you set it in front of her. "Bring me wine. I'm parched."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

It was the sort of royal gathering you expected: lords and ladies enjoying a rich spread of food and drinks, listening to musicians play and catching glances of the fish and birds around the scenic lake. You stood in the shadows behind Sookmyung most of the time, only approaching when she called for you. Seeing the other ladies in their silk and satin hanboks, their hair done up in expensive adornments and wearing fine jewelry on their wrists and fingers, you imagined yourself amongst them. You could sip fine wine while talking to other court ladies about who is courting who. You can flirt and dance with handsome lords all vying for your attention. But, that can only be a dream. 

You're nobody. You're a servant, a slave. You are not meant to have dreams at all. 

"It seems the old woman was right after all."

You felt a presence shift on your left and you turned to see a man dressed in black and gold standing nearby. You knew by his high voice and long hair that it was Hongjoong. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Out of all her flowers, Hongjoong is the one you’re forbidden to speak with. Immediately, you turned away from him. You knew better than to talk to her flowers. If she caught you, she'd lock you in her dungeon for sure. You remembered Lady Seulgi, and shuddered. Yet, Hongjoong did not leave your side. 

"Don't worry, I convinced one of the ladies to keep her occupied," he told you. You did not respond to him, too afraid your voice may carry to Sookmyung a few feet away. "You truly are frightened of her, aren't you?" 

You still did not speak, despite the urge to engage in the conversation. Hongjoong radiated a security and comfort not very common in people. Yet, Sookmyung’s presence kept your lips sealed together. What if there's a change in songs and she hears a whisper of conversation? What if she happens to turn around to see you? You tried thinking of a way to leave, but nothing came to mind. 

"You shouldn't be here," you muttered to him under the wave of music and chatter. "She is meant to be searching for a husband. If you’re here, she will be too distracted." And if she does not choose a husband by the end, Jisoo shall choose for her and that can only end badly. "I suggest you scurry off before she sees you."

"But why would I leave a party I was invited to?" He asked amusedly. 

"You were invited?"

"Yes, by Jisoo."

"Why would she invite you? That defeats the purpose of this entire thing then," you thought out loud. 

"Perhaps The Queen Mother wanted us to entertain someone else," he grinned playfully.

The tips of your ears burned at the grin. "Us?"

"The others came too."

"They didn't announce your arrival. You're supposed to arrive after her."

"I doubt she will complain about it," he said. "She hasn't even noticed we're here yet."

"She will if you keep standing there," you imagined what awful thing she'd do if she caught them here, "You all should leave before she sees you. It'll end badly for you if she does."

"YN," he said fondly, "Always thinking of others and never about yourself."

You turned to look at him, "Your meaning?"

"That you should worry about yourself a bit more," he explained simply. "She might favor you above most at court, or anywhere as a matter of fact, but you're not exempt from the dungeons."  

"That's partly the reason I'm telling you to leave," you hissed. "If she sees us speaking, she'll assume the worst and throw us both in there."

"'Partly'," he repeated. "Well, I have no intention of leaving, and neither do the others. We've been promised an exciting night." 

Another cryptic response. "Do not say you weren't warned. Enjoy the party."

You left his side to refill Sookmyung’s plate. You hoped distracting her with food gave him time to leave, and when you turned to check, he'd gone. 

"YN, tell the singers I hate this song," she told you over her shoulder. "Tell them I want them to play something more jovial, upbeat."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

You moved deftly through the crowd towards the musicians in the corner of the pavilion. That was when you noticed the guards. At most functions, you saw at least three or four, especially at an intimate gathering. Yet, as you walked, you spotted more than four. You saw several: two by the entrance, a man at each corner of the pavilion, three more patrolling the island area and four patrolling the outer banks. They stalked the grounds with swords sheathed on their belts. It unsettled you. Everything about the queen’s banquet seemed off. First, no advisors. Secondly, no Jisoo. Thirdly, concubines and lastly, a strong guard presence. You sensed a disturbance underneath the surface, watching and waiting to strike, and you didn’t know where it’d come from first. 

You reached the band of musicians, and told them Sookmyung’s request, which they obeyed immediately. When you turned around, you saw Wooyoung, San and Yeosang crowded together. Since anyone who values their life won’t speak to them, the three concubines talked to one another instead with drink cups in their hands. Hongjoong mentioned them being promised an exciting night. You wondered what it might be as you made your way back over to Sookmyung. Pleased at the change in song, she continued enjoying the company of the other ladies while you stood behind her. You stood by one of the pillars, your stomach growling from hunger and wishing Sookmyung let you leave. Then the herald called out in a booming voice, more drums and horns drowning out the musicians. 

"Announcing, Han Jisoo, Queen Mother of Hanseong."

People stepped aside and bowed as the queen moved through the crowd. You saw your mother pushing her from behind, neither speaking or smiling. However, Jisoo beamed and nodded at people she made eye contact with. Jisoo glowed with a kindness her daughter never inherited. You saw her in her olive green and white hanbok, her hair in a bun with a floral hairpin. She looked like a true queen, particularly when she was in front of Sookmyung, who tried hiding her hateful scowl. 

"Mother," Sookmyung stood, but did not bow, "I am so glad you managed to make it this evening. I thought your health might keep you."

"I wanted to be here to support my lovely daughter,” she said, being wheeled around to a place beside Sookmyung. “This is a very important night for her.”

“If it’s so important,” Sookmyung began when they both sat down, “Then why aren’t the old men here? I thought they’d want to see all their sons and nephews put themselves forward.”

“Don’t fret over them, love,” her mother replied, being served food by Chaewon. “They will be here soon.” She turned her head to see you nearby, and you bowed your head to her. Jisoo gave a look of concern, “YN, you look peckish. When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning, Your Majesty.” 

“But it’s been hours since then,” she said. “Come and eat, child. You’ll pass out if you don’t.”

Sookmyung snorted, “I remember the harvest festival when we were little. YN fainted in front of everybody and fell into a puddle of mud.” 

“A queen doesn’t laugh at the misfortune of others,” Jisoo scolded. “YN, come sit by me and eat.”

“She’s a servant,” Sookmyung argued, “She isn’t supposed to sit here with us.”

“She can because I said so.”

“I am the queen,” she retorted, “And YN listens to only me. YN, you stay where you are. I might have need of you.”

“And I am the Queen Mother,” Jisoo told you, “Come now.”

You looked between the two queens, and then to your mother worriedly. If you disobeyed Sookmyung, you’d receive a harsh scolding later. If you disobeyed Jisoo, you’d be hurting her feelings. Jisoo always seemed to favor you over the other palace servants. She went out of her way to make sure you’re properly cared for; she always offered you space in her home. You stepped forward carefully, and stood at the chair beside Jisoo. Your eyes flitted up to Sookmyung, who stared daggers into your face. By the amount of wine she’ll be having, perhaps she’ll be too drunk to properly punish you. She may even forget this moment if she finds a man she truly likes. Taking the seat, your mother serving you a hefty plate, you knew your hopes were too high. 

"I am sorry you had to witness that argument," Jisoo told you. "It will be the last time you do, I promise."

"It is nothing I am not accustomed to," you told her. You ate a bit of rice with savory meat and chewed quietly. "Sookmyung is very against the idea of marriage. She will not make it easy for you."

"And what about you, YN?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Sookmyung made a fair point, in her own twisted way," she began. "You are a beautiful young woman. You would have your pick of any man you wanted, yet you show no interest in it."

"I am far too busy to think about such things," you said. "The Queen takes up a good amount of my time."

'Sookmyung will never let me marry unless she chose them herself.'

"That's preposterous," she scoffed. She took a sip of tea your mother poured for her, and said, “Sookmyung has plenty of other handmaidens. Surely, she can tolerate them long enough for you to pursue any interests you may have.” She then gave a sly smirk, “You might even find someone favorable tonight.”

“Your Majesty, please,” you giggled with hot cheeks, “These are all men of nobility. Their families would never accept it even if a man did want me.” 

You didn’t dare mention they’ll likely take you as a concubine rather than a wife. 

“That may change after tonight.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted someone in the crowd, “Hongjoong looks particularly handsome tonight, don’t you think?”

“What?” You searched the crowd around to find him standing with Seonghwa and Yunho, the three men in deep discussion together. “Um, well, I suppose he does.”

“You suppose?” she furrowed her brow. “Put aside your fears for a moment, YN, and tell me what you truly think of him.” 

Your eyes finally met hers, seeing the sincerity in them, and you looked back at Hongjoong. While you both rarely spoke directly, he still showed care for you. Yesterday, he’d occupied Sookmyung for the day so you may spend time with your mother. He’d taken your place in the torture chambers, so you can sleep free of nightmares. Hongjoong might fear Sookmyung’s wrath like anyone else, but that seemed to fade in your presence. You knew the face underneath that veil: the short narrow nose, the prominence of his cheeks and soft lips. He’d been a prince once, and he still looked the part even now. He must’ve felt your stare, because his eyes glanced over to you and the room suddenly became warm. Seeing him there, you wished you could speak to him again. 

“He is everything a prince should be,” you whispered, not concerned if she heard you or not. “He is the sort of man you hear about in stories and songs: a chivalrous, courageous prince who comes to save the day. Even if we don’t speak, he shows his concern and care in different ways.” 

“If we speak technically, he is a king,” she noted. “His father is dead. His family is dead. Anyone with a claim to Wonju’s throne is deceased apart from himself.”

“Which is the precise reason Sookmyung covets him so much. She will never release him.”

“Let us not speak of the future as a fact,” she ate a few vegetables from her stew, and said. “The future can change in a single minute.”

“You speak as if you know something I do not,” you didn’t realize how accusatory that sounded until you’d said it. “Forgive me-”

“-Perhaps I do, little YN,” she smiled serenely, “Perhaps I do.” 

Drums sounded from the pavilion entrance, and the herald called out, “Chief Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik, with Advisors Kim Heechul, Park Taeyong, Do Daewook, and Jung Junhan.” 

All five of Sookmyung’s advisors walked into the pavilion to more head bowing. Wonshik walked ahead of them to Sookmyung’s table, and gave her a bow. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, “I am glad to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Your Majesty.”

The people sitting at Sookmyung’s table fell silent at once, even with the music continuing to play onwards. She kept her eyes directly on the elder, that familiar dislike showing on her face. You feared what might happen next. 

“What did you say?” she drawled, hands slowly curling into fists. 

“The council and I have been in discussion for some time,” he informed her. You saw the other advisors' stiff lips and stern faces. “We have argued back and forth and back and forth on this issue for several days, and finally we have all come to an agreement.”

“This is not the place to discuss politics, Advisor,” she said. “I am in the middle of a banquet, if you have not noticed.”

“I’m afraid this news cannot wait any longer. Han Sookmyung, by power invested in us by the people of Korea and The Crown, the Royal Council and I have declared you unfit to rule and have decided to strip you of your titles and crown.”

Sookmyung immediately shot up from her seat. Now, they had the full attention of everyone in the room. Every nerve in your body froze, and you braced yourself for what would happen next. 

“You cannot do that!” she howled. “I am the queen-”

“-Any fool who has to keep saying she is the queen is not a true queen,” Wonshik continued, unbothered by her temper. “As Master of Law, I will give Advisor Do the floor-”

“-You old bastards! I am part of the monarchy. I am a queen. You cannot arrest or depose me without just cause-”

“-According to paragraph three in section C3 of the Bill of Laws,” Advisor Do spoke, fixing the spectacles on his nose, “A monarch may be incarcerated if there is sufficient evidence that said monarch has committed crimes against the people. During your conquest across Korea, there are witness testimonies and hard evidence to prove Your Majesty committed several war crimes-”

“-You have no proof-”

“-These war crimes include,” he withdrew a scroll and he read out loud, “Intentional destruction and appropriation of property not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully. Intentional attacks against civilian populations. The torture and subsequent murder of prisoners of war; the taking of and enslavement of hostages. The murder of combatants who’d laid down their arms or have no means of further defense-”

“-These don’t apply to me! I am the ruler! I decide-”

“-The penalty for these crimes is the immediate removal from office, as well as stripped of all lands and titles-”

“-I decide what laws go into place! I decided who is charged and who isn’t-”

“-The Royal Council decides which laws are passed,” Wonshik intervened. “Your grandfather put this into practice before you were born, and it still stands today. Your Majesty was always welcome to take her place on the council and come to terms with us, but you felt that beneath you. Due to the crimes Advisor Do has just read, Her Majesty, Queen Sookmyung, shall be placed under arrest-”

“-What?!-”

“-Until such time as she is tried in a court of law and properly sentenced-”

The guards you’d seen before came forward to Sookmyung’s seat. She looked at Wonshik, unafraid of the men coming her way, “I am the queen. I am King Siwon’s only heir. Who could you possibly replace me with?”

“That is easily resolved.” It was Jisoo who spoke, and Sookmyung rounded on her. 

“How? What, you will sit on my throne? You are the King’s widow. You have no right or claim to my throne.”

“I might not, but your sister does.”

“My sister?” she asked in disbelief, “What sister? I have no sister!”

Chaewon turned Jisoo to face her daughter, “Yes, you do. Your father and I kept this information from court to avoid a succession crisis upon his death. But, seeing what you’ve become and the violence and destruction you’ve dealt out, I think it was a mistake to keep her hidden this entire time.”

“Who is she?” she glared at Jisoo, and you worried she might hit her. “Where is she? I’ll run her through!” She grabbed a knife from the table, and held it out at Jisoo. Sookmyung began looking about the room as if she expected this secret heir to appear from the shadows. “Who is she? Who?!” The guards drew out their own swords, ready to fight if she resisted. You remembered all those years in the training yard. Sookmyung is far too good with weapons for one’s liking. Jisoo, however, was not afraid of the blade in front of her. “Where is she, you snake?!”

“She’s right behind me,” Jisoo shrugged. 

A gasp escaped your throat, and Sookmyung turned to you. Nervously, you searched for anyone behind you but you quickly realized she meant you. You looked over to your mother. 

“Mother?”

“YN?” Sookmyung spoke before your mother, and said, “That’s ridiculous! YN is a lowly servant’s daughter. She’s not a princess, let alone a queen. If she was my twin sister, she’d look like me.”

“You’re fraternal twins,” Jisoo explained. 

“Fraternal…” she breathed out the word, her eyes landing on you. “Why…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know!” you squeaked. “I swear, Your Majesty, I didn’t know! I am as surprised as you!” 

And equally embarrassed. All eyes landed on you once the words were spoken, and you wanted to run and hide. Everyone stood in complete shock and awe. You saw some people whispering behind their hands, and others awkwardly looking away from you. 

“Liar!”

“Guards!”

Sookmyung lunged for you, knife raised in the air, before a guard stood in her way. Her eyes never left yours. Nothing but scorching hate burned within her brown eyes, that primal need to unleash her fury making her more and more desperate to reach you. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears, and you couldn’t stop your feet from taking you backwards. You’d walk all the way to the city and beyond if nobody stopped you. 

“YN…” 

His voice, low and deep, reached you right as your back bumped into his front. Seonghwa. You knew from the voice alone. Warm hands squeeze your biceps tenderly to keep you in place. 

“You little bitch!” Sookmyung screeched, “I will get you! I will get all of you! You will rue the day you tried taking my crown from me!”

Two guards took her by the arms, but they did not act quickly enough. Sookmyung pushed one of them away, and unsheathed the dagger from his belt. Stabbing it into his chest, panic went throughout the room as Sookmyung shoved him to the floor and turned on his comrade. Seonghwa stood in front of you, so you only heard the commotion going on several feet away from you. 

“Seonghwa, get YN out of here,” Jisoo ordered. 

“Come, YN.” 

He took your arm and started leading you away. You looked over your shoulder to see Sookmyung’s wig casted onto the floor and the overcoat of her hanbok discarded onto the ground. In the distance, you saw Sookmyung fighting off guards with a stolen sword. You’d never seen her in battle, but you’d seen her in the training yard in her youth. Sookmyung cut through men easily, using her hands and feet to keep them back. Then, you realized some of the guards did not fight her, but rather aided her. Soldiers fought as Sookmyung made her way out of the pavilion. When a lord tried stopping her, one of the guards cut him down to give her a clear path. As you ran across the bridge leading to the south, Sookmyung ran to the one leading towards the north where she fought men guarding the lake side. Seonghwa lifted you up onto a horse awaiting you by the bridge, and Sookmyung had the same idea on the opposite side. You gasped audibly when she stabbed the rider and took his steade. 

As you began riding with Seonghwa, you worried Sookmyung might chase after you. Everything in your body turned numb, and the only thing you felt was fear. You listened for more clopping hooves, and faint threats carrying through the air. You expected her to pull up beside you, sword in her hand, and the blade swishing at you and Seonghwa. Yet, as you crossed over another bridge to the southern part of the palace grounds, you realized she must’ve retreated. 

“We’ve been betrayed,” you heard Seonghwa curse to himself. “They said they’d be on our side.” 

“Seonghwa, what’s going on?” you asked him. 

He didn’t answer you, but instead rode towards the concubine residency. No guards stood at their posts nor any servants lingering nearby. Seonghwa dismounted first, then helped you off the horse before leading you into the house. Once you both entered the main room of the house, it felt as if the world was shut out. You walked into the middle of the room, replaying the events in your head. 

You’re a princess? Impossible. King Siwon could not be your father. Park Hyungshik had been your father. He’d been a stablemaster, handling the King’s horses for him. He’d died from pestilence when you were twelve, the sickness nearly taking your life as well before you recovered. Queen Jisoo could not be your real mother. Park Chaewon was. She’d nursed you in infancy, cared for you and loved you unconditionally. It sounded insane. If you were a princess, then you would’ve worn crowns and worn pretty dresses and danced with handsome lords. Not standing by Sookmyung’s side as she tortured and murdered people. 

“YN?” Seonghwa’s voice couldn’t pull you from your thoughts. 

King Siwon separated you to avoid a succession dispute? Why would there be one? If you and Sookmyung were twins, surely the council would have chosen the elder over the younger. Then, you remembered the crimes the council charged Sookmyung with and understood.

You studied the law and judicial system more than Sookmyung did. Everything Advisor Choi and Advisor Do said was true. The council had the power to remove the current monarch if they had just cause, and in Sookmyung’s case, they certainly had one. Hearing her crimes be listed out loud brought them into perspective for you. She’d raped, tortured, and killed so many people. She’d put entire villages to the torch, spreading fear and oppression throughout the kingdom. She continued to harm her subjects through her high taxation on the poor, causing many of them to go hungry or turn to unsavory means to avoid it. You’d hoped one day she may be stopped, but you never imagined yourself taking her place. 

“YN,” Seonghwa called to you again, coming up behind you, “Are you alright?”

“No,” you answered. Sookmyung will not let this ‘betrayal’ stand. She will come for you and anyone else involved in this coupe. “Where did she go? Did you see where she went?”

“She was running towards the northern gates,” he said. “I imagine she plans to escape that way, and if what I suspect is true, she’ll manage to get out of the city by the morning.” 

You looked out a nearby window to see the sun already setting. Footmen already lit the braziers around the grounds, and you saw lights inside the various buildings being lit. You did not have a view of the pavilion from the garden house, but you saw floods of lords and ladies being escorted by their retainers off the premises. Several palace guards moved quickly throughout the grounds, hands on their swords as they searched for the runaway queen. No doubt they’ll set up groups of men to go into the city soon. That won’t stop Sookmyung. She’ll find her way back into the palace, and if she had help, she’d find you for sure. 

“She’ll find me,” you said, keeping the trembling out of your voice. “She’ll find me, torture me and then kill me.”

“No, she won’t,” he assured you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “I wouldn’t let her.”

“As if that would stop her,” you rolled your eyes. Watching men moving past the house, you pictured her lying in wait in the bushes. You saw her waiting until dark to sneak into your bedroom, and plunge a knife in your throat. “She’ll never give up. Never. When she manages to get her throne back, she’ll punish every single person she deems responsible for this. It is stupid. It is foolish and in vain.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said. Gingerly, he turned you to face him and you tensed in his embrace. Thoughts of Sookmyung’s fury made you step away from his touch. “She is not the queen anymore,” he told you, sensing your hesitancy, “She holds no power.”

“Yes, she does,” you told him. “Just because the council has dethroned her does not mean the people outside these walls know of this. It will take days to inform the dukes of the other cities, and by then, Sookmyung will have likely sought refuge with one of them. There may even be a simple farming family who shelters her because they’re under the impression she is queen.” You envisioned the very scenario, and it only ended with blood and tears. “Nobody is going to accept a new queen, especially one who was the former queen’s handmaiden. I mean..” you took a deep breath, “I am no queen. I am not royalty. I am a small, simple woman who walks next to palanquins and serves other people and takes care of everyone and everything and-”

“-You may not have been raised as a royal, but you are one,” Seonghwa interrupted you. “Word will spread after tonight. It is why the council confronted her in front of the entire court instead of somewhere private. People like to talk, and they’ll talk about how Sookmyung was deposed and her handmaiden is actually her secret sister.” 

“And they will say that I am not a queen and will likely try to put someone else in my place.”

“The only people who can truly make that decision are the advisors,” he said, “Nobody else.” 

He stepped forward again, his hand sliding across your jaw and cupping it. Sookmyung would’ve flogged you both for such a gesture. When you tried moving away, he kept you still. 

“The people may not know you, but I do,” he began. “You are a kind, generous, compassionate person. You sympathize and empathize with others. You always try to do what is right and protect as many people as you can.”

“I cannot protect anyone.”

“You’ve tried, and that counts. The other servants used to talk about how you maneuvered Sookmyung’s anger to keep her from harming others-”

“-I wasn’t always successful,” you admitted sheepishly. “She could be hard to handle when she is seriously upset.”

“But you managed. Also, it isn’t as if you’re a complete fool. You can read, write and do arithmetic. You know the politics, the law, and culture.” He gave a soft smile, “You should not doubt yourself so much. You are capable of great things, YN, and you’ll have people there to guide you along the way.”

You shook your head and moved away from him and the window. “No, no, this is insane,” you kept shaking your head, “There’s no way. This must be a trick or a joke.”

“Why would it be a trick?”

“Sookmyung likes to play games. This would just be another elaborate game for her to play on me,” you nervously wiped your palms on your skirt, “She’ll come back, laugh at me for reacting this way, and then tell me that ever dreaming of being more than what I am is pointless. It is the sort of thing she’d do. Yes, and being one of her ‘flowers’, you’d be forced to be in on the game.”

“YN, this is not a trick or a game. You truly are Jisoo and Siwon’s child; you are an heir to the Han dynasty-”

“-No, I’m not. No. I’m not falling for it,” you crossed your arms and plopped down onto a sofa. “I’ll sit here and wait for her to come and laugh at me like she always does.”

“YN-”

“-YN!” 

Your mother came rushing into the house, her footsteps thumping lightly until she reached the beaded curtain. She saw you sitting on the sofa and gave a sigh of relief. 

“YN, there you are!”

She knelt in front of you, cradling your face and checking for any injuries. You looked at her. You truly looked at her now. You tried finding a scrap of yourself in her face; you thought about your father’s face and did not find resemblance there either. Not in the nose, eyes, lips, ears, cheeks, neck, or body. Nothing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked her softly. “Why didn’t you tell me that Queen Jisoo was my real mother and not you?”

Chaewon’s eyes filled with guilt. Her shoulders sagged and she stopped touching you. You saw the conflict going on in her mind, a struggle between honesty and lies. She sat beside you on the sofa, and held your hand gently. 

“I think that is a conversation for later,” she told you. “A lot of things have happened very quickly, and you must be very confused right now.”

“Exactly, so please explain the first part to me: how can I be a daughter of King Siwon, and not know it until this very day?” you demanded. 

Chaewon looked over at Seonghwa, the discomfort clear on her face. She stayed silent for a moment before she said, “Because we didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The Queen and I,” she answered. “Well, us two, Siwon, and Wonshik. Like what Jisoo said, Siwon had seen kingdoms be torn apart by a dispute over succession and he knew having two twin daughters may cause that. He’d planned to send you far away into the countryside where nobody would see you, but Jisoo pleaded for you to stay in the palace.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t want to be away from you. She wanted to see her daughters grow up together.” 

“Why did she pick you?”

“Because she and I have been together since our girlhood in Daegu,” she explained. “We both suffered from similar fertility issues after our marriages: she had a delicate womb; Hyungshik did not produce enough sperm for a pregnancy. When you and Sookmyung were born, and Siwon declared there can only be one, she offered you to me.” Your mother smiled warmly, taking both your hands in hers, “And Hyungshik and I loved you as if you were ours all along. The moment I held you in my arms, YN, I felt as if you were meant to be mine. It was as if the gods intended on giving you to me."

"You could have told me at any time."

"And what good would it have done then?"

"That perhaps we might not be in this situation at all," you reasoned. "The king and queen both saw what kind of person Sookmyung was; they saw her viciousness and callousness and still allowed her to be queen.”

“They believed she may grow out of it-”

“-Grow out of it?” you huffed. “What could possibly make them think that? Sookmyung used to chase around the palace cats and hang them from trees. She used to start fires in the stables and tormented her nurse. She only started paying attention in studies when she was told she’d be the queen one day. Do you know why she wanted to train in the yard with the men? Hm, do you?” you couldn’t keep the anger from rising in your voice. “Because then she’d learn how to kill people. She’d learn how to hurt people in the most efficient way. It did not occur to them then that perhaps their eldest child is not fit for rule? All this pain and torture and murder could have been prevented if her parents stepped out of their delusion and saw her as she truly was.”

You pictured every person Sookmyung ever tortured. Their faces haunted your dreams and kept you awake some nights. The stench of blood, bile, and other fluids clung to your nose even when outside the dungeons. They did not know. Her family never knew her true nature. Queen Jisoo might’ve suspected or been told by others, but she’d never seen it. You’d seen everything. You shut your eyes as visions of men being impaled on pikes across a battlefield came to you.

“No parent ever wants to admit their child’s faults,” your mother told you gently. “It was not until she came into rule that Queen Jisoo saw her daughter for who she is.”

“Someone should have said something,” you said, “Someone should have told me.”

“To tell you would be telling Sookmyung,” she soothed you, running your braid through her hands delicately. “You saw what she did to the other claimants. I never thought…YN, you must believe me, I never thought this day would come.”

“Did you ever plan on telling me? Ever?”

“Your father wanted to tell you,” she admitted, “When he was dying. We both thought you’d join him, so he wanted you to know the truth, but I disagreed. I feared telling you the truth would worsen your condition at the time.”

“I feel it now regardless of my health.”

“I know, and I do not expect you to forgive me right away. I only want you to know that I did this for your safety. Even if they did not want to admit it, I knew Sookmyung as well. If she learned you were her sister, she would’ve tried killing you at some point, and she proved that today.” 

Because she believed you’d betrayed her. The room felt hot. You realized then Seonghwa still stood nearby, listening even if he pretended otherwise.  

“Please, you must understand,” your mother pleaded. “We did what we thought was best at the time. None of us knew what Sookmyung would turn out to be later on in life, but we knew if Siwon died and had two heirs instead of one, things could be ugly very quickly.”

“Obviously it would have been Sookmyung. She was the elder of the two of us.”

“But anyone who saw her grow up would’ve petitioned to have you take her place,” she said. “Purists would say Sookmyung is the rightful heir, and Realists would say you are the appropriate heir. It would’ve caused chaos and uncertainty. It’d been during a very tremulous time in the kingdom: we’d recently gotten out of a war with a nearby nation, and were recovering from the financial losses. Siwon did not want to see his kingdom plunged into war.”

“And look how that turned out,” you said, playing with the red threaded ornament attached to your hanbok. On the red loop was a golden medallion with a crane etched into it. Sookmyung gifted it to you after her first victory. “It led to Sookmyung creating her own war in an attempt to seize control of the entire country; power and control she already had as the ruling monarch. It left us in a country depleted of hope and peace led by a madwoman who pulled out fingernails for fun.”

“We admit that we made a mistake,” Chaewon answered, “You’re right. We should never have lied to you. It is something we both deeply regret.”

“Yes, particularly in light of recent events.”

Your mother put her hand on yours, grasping the ornament. “We know it will take time for you to fully soak all of this in, so we do not expect immediate forgiveness from you. But, I want you to know that even if I didn’t carry you myself,” her hands went around yours, “I still love you as if I did. The moment you opened your eyes, YN, I knew you were mine.”

“Would you have told me?”

“If circumstances had been different, I would have.” 

You had difficulty believing her. If she lied about this, what else is she lying about? 

“YN, are you alright?” 

It was Jisoo, followed by Wonshik and the other advisors, all of them concerned. You turned from your hiding space to see them all standing by the door, watching you from afar. When you saw Jisoo, you couldn’t see her being your mother either. The only traces captured in her features was Sookmyung, her trueborn daughter. Then, you thought back to King Siwon. He’d stood lean and broad even in his old age. Thinking back to the warm, wrinkled face that always smiled at you, you saw yourself. You saw bits and pieces of yourself in that face. 

“I look more like him,” you said without thinking. 

She nodded, “Yes, you do. I used to tell him that whenever I saw you both together.” She wheeled herself closer to you, “Forgive me, YN. I did not want to keep this from you, but my husband forbade it. You must understand we did this to prevent war and-”

“-Sookmyung brought war and devastation on us,” you argued with her. “I don’t see how keeping my birth a secret prevented anything. If anything, it has made things worse.” 

“Yes, we see our mistakes now,” she faltered. “I’d seen it for a long time, but not Siwon. He had trouble admitting that he’d made a mistake in separating you both. I wanted to tell you, YN. We should have told you, and dealt with the consequences afterwards. This is the time to correct those mistakes.”

“You told Hongjoong and I that the other dukes would be on our side,” Seonghwa stepped in, looking at Wonshik. “I am not sure if you noticed, a few of them took up arms against us instead of with us.”

“Yes, it appears we’d been betrayed,” Wonshik nodded. “Sookmyung might’ve already known a coupe would be staged, but the shock of YN being her sister distracted her long enough for us to act.”

“Do we know who went over?”

“The Dukes of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo, as well as their bannermen,” Advisor Jung, a stern looking man with a balding head and long mustache and beard, spoke up. “I told Wonshik that trusting Daegu and Gongju would be a mistake. They benefited the most when Sookmyung took power, and know their continued wealth counts on her being on the throne. Ulleungdo was a surprise, though. They typically stay out of wars.”

“The son of Ulleungdo recently married the duchess of Daegu,” Jisoo told him. “They will need a proper fleet, and Ulleungdo has dozens of longships.”

“How did they find out?” exclaimed Advisor Heechul, a rotund man with salt-and-pepper hair. 

“Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow, gentlemen?” Jisoo intervened. “Her Majesty has learned far too much too quickly. She needs time to process these new changes.”

“It is important to act now, Your Majesty…”

‘Her Majesty’. They meant you when they said this. Not Sookmyung. Despite all the little fantasies you had, you never believed it would happen. You couldn’t possibly be a real princess, but the longer you sat there amongst these people, it sounded more plausible. It explained why the king and queen treated you so well. You saw the other servant girls learning practical skills such as cooking, sewing, cleaning and washing. You sat beside Sookmyung learning languages, geography, arithmetic, philosophy, and culture. You’d never cooked anything before or needed to sew. It was the other household servants who did that; you merely managed them. King Siwon showed particular interest in you. He even called you affectionate pet names. 

‘How is our little blossom today?’

‘Don’t wander too deep into the forest, okay sunshine? We don’t want you and Sookmyung getting lost.’ 

Queen Jisoo showed you nothing but kindness and concern. She appeared happier when she saw you in comparison to when she saw Sookmyung. You must be special to them, and what other reason do they have outside of being their child? You felt yourself stand up from the sofa, and begin walking away. They want to make you a queen. Your feet carried you throughout the harem, bypassing bedrooms and sitting rooms until you reached the outdoor veranda over the garden pond. Night time came over the garden fully, with the lit lanterns resembling stars amongst the dark trees and bushes. 

You spent your whole life believing Chaewon and Hyungshik were your parents. If you’d learned you’d been adopted from an orphanage or given to them by relatives, you might understand it better. You may not feel so bad. But learning your birth parents are a king and queen, and you are a princess worsened the shock. You gripped the wooden railing tightly, your fingers pressing into the painted wood as you imagined Sookmyung learning of this. It stunned her, and angered her like most surprises had done. You knew Jisoo and your mother were right: if you’d grown up as sisters, you wouldn’t be standing here. But, then you’d have grown up prepared to ascend the throne. 

“YN?” you recognized Seonghwa’s voice again, but felt nothing for it. 

You did not know the first thing about being a monarch. Yes, you might have come up with solutions to problems you heard from citizens, but you had no power to carry them out. You didn’t understand politics or diplomacy or sword fighting like Sookmyung did. You are a servant, a follower of people higher than you; you’re not a queen. You’re not a leader. 

“YN,” he took light steps over towards you, “I know this is far too much to take in at the moment. You must be so confused. I’ll admit, I felt the same when the Queen Mother and Advisor Wonshik told me of their plan.”

“Why would they tell you?”

“Well, I suspect they hoped I’d be of some use to them,” he stood beside you and looked out over the water. “My father was Park Jiwoon. He was the Senior Advisor to The Duke of Haeju for years. Before Sookmyung killed the ruling family and installed loyal lackeys to the seat, my father counseled the duke in all manner of politics. My father was brilliant. It’d been him who’d suggested that it be a council that makes the laws alongside the duke, instead of giving the monarch ultimate power."

He saw your worried expression. Your eyes fell closed when he gently touched your cheek, and made you look at him. He's beautiful. Undeniably beautiful. Round eyes gazed into yours lovingly, glancing down to your lips before looking back up. He was Sookmyung's, you thought. He's hers. Not yours. None of them could ever truly be yours. Especially not Seonghwa or Hongjoong. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, and he stood closer to you before the sound of wheels running over wood broke you apart.

Jisoo appeared with your mother. They both stopped when they saw you and Seonghwa alone. Neither woman said anything, and Seonghwa bowed his head.

"I must go speak with the advisors," he said. He gave you one more fleeting look, "Goodnight, Your Majesty."

It was when he'd gone out of earshot that you said, "I've only been a monarch for less than an hour and I already hate that. I'm not a queen."

"This is our chance to make things right," Jisoo said, continuing your conversation from inside. "The people need a leader who is compassionate, generous and caring. They need someone who understands their struggles, and would do their best to relieve them. You are that someone, YN, whether you believe it or not. There is a reason I ordered you to be tutored alongside Sookmyung.”

“I hardly remember any of those lessons now," you scoffed. "They weren’t important to me-”

“-Name the five major clans of Korea.”

“What?” you finally looked over at her. 

“Name the five major clans,” she repeated. “There is the royal family, the Han clan. Who are the other four?”

“Kim, Park, Choi and Jung,” you answered. 

“Han controls the middle plain region,” she said, coming up beside you, “Who controls the west, east, north, and south?”

“Kim controls the west, Choi controls the east, Park controls the south, and Jung is in the north.”

“What are their principal exports?”

“Clan Kim is famous for their gem and gold mines, as well as their silk and cloth fields,” you said. “Clan Choi are known for their expansive seafood industry, while Clan Park send spices and wines from their vineyards and fields in the south. Jung sends lumber, paper and stone blocks for building.”

“Sookmyung did not know that.”

“Of course she did.”

“She pretended to know,” Jisoo informed you. “I knew that because she never attended council meetings. Sookmyung only went to meetings when it concerned her money or her power. She did not know how to bring peace to people, or how to maintain it. I think you can do it.”

“I know you can do it,” your mother said, coming up beside you at the railing. When you did not reply, she continued, “You do not need to make a decision tonight-”

“-Chaewon-” Jisoo said incredulously, but your mother ignored her. 

“-Take your time with this. It is a big decision and there are more to come.” She put her arm around your shoulders and hugged you, “Let us take this one day at a time, hm?”

“I’d like that.”

You allowed her arms to comfort you as they’d done your entire life. Basking in the warmth and scent of her, you could not find it in you to think anymore. Jisoo decided you’d stay in the harem where there’d be plenty of people to watch over you until Sookmyung is apprehended. You couldn’t find it in you to care. Seonghwa offered you his chambers for the night, but you politely declined. You took the spare room, which was oddly untouched by anyone else. You undressed yourself, thinking about what you would be doing now if nothing happened. You’d be undressing Sookmyung instead, and leaving her in a warm bath while you turned down her bed. After applying creams and salves to her body, you’d help her into bed and make sure the room remained warm through the night. 

Instead, you stripped to your undergarments and took up the black silk robe left on a chair. Sookmyung’s robe. You recalled every time you slipped it over her shoulders, and tied it because she could not be bothered to dress herself. Tossing it aside, you slid into the bed amongst the soft sheets. Sleep likely will not come, but you’d force it to. If you slept, perhaps when you woke up tomorrow it'd have been a dream. 

An awful, confusing dream.

***

A/N: oooh the drama!! Thanks so much for the support and love you're giving this fic <3 it's my baby lol thanks also for being so patient with these chapters. I'm not going through the best time, but I wanted to put out something for you guys <3 hope you like this one

[birinboom]

The Luck-Bringing Cat

Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader; a shy former imperial concubine

The Apothecary Diaries-esque AU (I am kinda-sorta stealing this plotline from ep. 3), arranged marriage, budding romance, domestic fluff, pet names (JY calls Reader my dear, my love), Reader is also referred to as ‘my lady’ 🌸 3.162 words

Jing Yuan, a famed general and childhood friend of the emperor, has yet to take a wife. The emperor decides to solve this by giving one of his least favorite concubines to his best friend. Even though Jing Yuan is against this practice, he can't help but fall head over heels in love once he meets you.

Thank you so much to @a11eya for beta-reading this for me!

Only one man had managed to stay at the emperor’s side through most of his life. Jing Yuan, the son of imperial scholars, made friends with the crown prince early in their lives, and they quickly became inseparable. As they aged, Jing Yuan became an asset to the newly crowned emperor; a seasoned warrior, an accomplished general, a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people who dared oppose the monarch when needed. 

The emperor loved him like a brother. And it worried him that Jing Yuan never seemed interested in taking a wife. The general was far from blind to the longing gazes of the women of the court, he accepted their offers on occasion but he never seemed to want more than one or two nights with any woman. The emperor did not see anything wrong with this as he himself split his time more or less equally between his favorite concubines. But any man who was less fortunate than the emperor should surely want something more stable, especially a man who was slowly getting through his best age.

When Jing Yuan was pressed about why he did not want to marry, he stated with a lazy smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of the general’s lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend. 

I have neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But I desperately wish I did.

The emperor thought deeply about this issue. Then he remembered someone in the inner court. A concubine who had fallen from his favor at their first meeting. He had never spent time with you after that. Why, he had barely thought about you in years. Still, you were a beautiful woman, well-educated, and, from what he had been told, quite quick-witted. You would make a good gift for his best friend.

Now he just needed to convince Jing Yuan that he would not take no for an answer.

Jing Yuan was still unable to fully understand how everything had come to this. He could not fathom why the emperor suddenly wanted to give him one of the imperial concubines as a wife. Giving an unfavored concubine to a newly appointed officer as a reward was far from an uncommon practice, Jing Yuan was well aware of that. But he had never expected it to happen to him, not after so many years in service of the emperor. He had been lucky to manage arranging a meeting with you before the wedding. 

This practice seemed so wholly unfair in his mind. Unfair to you and any other concubines affected by the custom. You had already been given as a gift to one man, now you were being given to another, neither of whom you had chosen for yourself. Jing Yuan knew there was little he could do about the situation, but he did not feel right accepting another human being as a gift.   

He continued towards the palace gardens which had been chosen as the meeting place, still in deep speculation about whether he had any chance of changing the emperor’s mind. 

Turning a corner, he was torn out of his thoughts when he came upon a small gathering of women, all of them wearing identical robes. One held a folded-up parasol. They were all calling out to someone in voices too hushed for Jing Yuan to discern any words. 

Ladies-in-waiting, he thought, paying them little mind. Then, his eyes fell on you.

The emperor had shown him a painting of you, commissioned shortly before you had begun your journey to the palace. Even if some years had passed since then, Jing Yuan still instantly recognized you.

You stood at the top of a small bridge crossing one of the many creeks in the garden, your face tilted up towards a nearby tree. The setting autumn sun fell upon you at an angle that made your skin and hair glow. Tearing his gaze away from you, Jing Yuan looked towards the tree as well, his trained ears picking up the song of finches. For a moment he wondered if it might be the same flock that visited the small garden of his own residence. Turning his eyes back to you, he watched as you lifted a hand, holding it up towards the tree. A finch took off from a branch and landed on one of your outstretched fingers.

Until now your face had been mostly devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the tree. But when the finch landed on your hand, looking calmly at you with one black eye, your features softened, a fond smile gracing your face like the sun appearing from behind rain clouds. 

Jing Yuan watched you lift the bird closer to your face, whispering to it, your other hand coming up to gently scratch the top of its head. He unconsciously raised a hand to his lips in an attempt to hide the smile blooming there. If this was how you behaved with one of his beloved finches (and he was certain at this point that the bird was indeed from the flock he possessively thought of as his), if you acted so kind and loving towards the smallest of creatures with no prompting, then marrying you could quite possibly be one of the best things to ever happen to him. The thought of having you gifted to him still felt wrong, but… perhaps he did not need to dread it as much as he had at first.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, trying his best to school his features into a pleasant, if slightly detached, expression. 

You gasped, raising your arm to hide your face behind your long sleeve. The finch took off, frightened by your sudden movement, and the rest of the flock followed it. The flapping of their wings filled the air, drowning out your greeting as you and your ladies-in-waiting bowed to him.

Jing Yuan felt another smile tug at his lips. He managed to hide it behind his hair as he returned your bow.

Your ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to one side of the walkway, letting him pass. He looked at you as he ascended the bridge. The way you peeked shyly at him over your still-raised sleeve made his heart clench. He sent you what he hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded towards the path on the opposite side.

“Shall we, my lady?”

The two of you strolled along the garden path for a while, Jing Yuan filling the air with what idle conversation he could think of, and you giving brief, shy answers.

Then, he heard the flap of wings and felt the touch of tiny claws digging into his hair, brushing against his scalp. Soon, he felt a small tug as the finch began to preen him. He could barely help but chuckle when another finch landed on his shoulder. He felt your gaze on him, then your eyes moved to the bird on his far shoulder.

“Oh!” you exhaled.

Raising his opposite hand, he gently encouraged the bird to hop onto one of his fingers, then moved the hand -with bird- closer to you.

“I have worked quite hard on taming them over the years,” he said. “The most recent brood is the tamest yet; they are the only ones so far to actively seek my presence. Though I suspect they only come to me in hopes of food. Would you like to hold it again?”

You looked away, your sleeve rising once more to hide your face. “Again…” you said, sounding very put on the spot.

Jing Yuan tried to quell his laughter. “I must admit that I was watching you for a moment before making my presence known. What I saw was very… endearing.” 

You were silent for a while, then you peeked at him over the top of your sleeve. “May I be frank with you, General?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Staying quiet for a few seconds, you then drew in a deep breath. “I was rather nervous about this meeting. I have heard quite a few rumors about you, about your excellence at anything you do. And I was worried that I might not be able to live up to the expectations of the august general. But… You handle these birds with such tenderness and care. They trust you. Maybe they can trust me too, in time.”

Looking off to the side, you finally lowered your sleeve, clasping your hands in front of you. “I am very fond of small animals. My family owned a couple of tame nightingales when I was a child; I used to love falling asleep while listening to their singing.”

He felt another smile tug at his lips. He too had pleasant memories of falling asleep to the sound of bird song as a child. Though in his case it had been the wild birds outside his windows lulling him to sleep. Sharing such a similar memory with you only made him feel delighted.

Briefly peeking at him, as if to judge his reaction to your words, you then continued, “I have always yearned for a cat too, but my parents would not allow it because of our birds. And I never mustered up the courage to request permission to keep a cat after I arrived at the inner court. Though I doubt the emperor would have indulged me.” You sighed ruefully. “I suppose even now, since birds are favored once again, a pet cat will be impossible. The birds will be enough.”

Jing Yuan looked at you for a moment, stroking his chin. “A cat is a pleasant idea. As the saying goes, ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Though if I had my way I should like a lion instead!” When he saw your eyes widen, your mouth starting to open in surprise, he could not stop himself from laughing once more. “I jest, I merely jest! A house cat will suffice! Perhaps we can teach it to leave the birds in peace, or keep it indoors at all times.”

The thought of keeping a cat locked inside, though he doubted it was truly achievable, brought his thoughts back to the way you had been hidden away in the inner court for years. His smile faltered. Would it be right for him to mention his hesitation? Would it assuage you to know that he was far from satisfied with how the situation was handled?

“If I may be so bold, my lady… You were not the only one who had a certain level of apprehension about this meeting.”

You shrank back a little, shoulders slumping. “I… see.”

Jing Yuan saw you raise your hand again, he could only assume to hide your face once more. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he reached out to take your hand in his.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, my dear! It is not because of you, it is the entire situation. I do not much like being given another person as a gift. And I find it wholly unfair to you to be given away once again.” 

He had so much more to say on this subject, so many points to make about how the former concubines nearly always came out as the losers in these circumstances. And yet he felt his mind go blank. He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Your hand was softer and more delicate than he could have ever imagined; so different from his own strong, calloused hands. It took every last shred of self control to not raise it to his lips. 

Releasing your hand with great reluctance, he forced himself to finish his thoughts. “I am loath to receive a wife under such circumstances, even if she is one I should have quite liked to court of my own volition, had I been allowed to. But in the end it is His Majesty’s decision. Even so, I can promise you this, my dear: No matter what may come, I will always do my utmost to ensure that we are both happy with this union.”

You grasped the hand he had held with your free hand, rubbing the skin, your head bowed enough that he could not see your expression.

“I-I…”

Then you raised your head again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I must admit, I am quite relieved that you feel that way. That you understand the situation from my point of view too.”

Jing Yuan returned your smile. “As much as I am against this entire circumstance, I must admit… the more I get to know you, my dear, the more I am looking forward to you becoming my wife.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, then Jing Yuan escorted you and your ladies-in-waiting back to the inner court. Seeing the gate leading to the inner court left him with a sense of melancholy he could not quite place. Perhaps he had already grown so accustomed to your presence that the thought of being without you left him empty. It made him look forward to your wedding day even more.

One early morning, some six months later, Jing Yuan was found crouched over a rosebush in the small garden of his residence, pruning shears in hand. It was something he refused to give up, no matter how many people told him it was below his rank to tend to his own garden. Gardening was one of the few things that truly cleared his mind, one of the few still moments of the day that allowed him to relax. And today, he needed it.

He had already spent several hours lying awake, tossing and turning, his mind whirring, until finally giving up on sleep once he heard the first birds singing outside. Rolling over, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, then left the bed to start his day.

The air outside was cold enough that his breath created little puffs of mist, the remnants of frost biting his cheeks. He paid it little mind; it helped clear his head. And so, he crouched over the few bushes that needed pruning this early in spring, settling into a calming rhythm as the world around him slowly grew from a milky gray to pink and orange.

His rhythm was disturbed as something brushed up against his knee. Looking down, he spotted the white kitten he had presented to you on your wedding day, just a few days before the new year began. You had been infatuated with the cat (as had he, as were both of you even now), and you had aptly named it Snowmoon in honor of the full moon hanging in the sky, casting lambent light over the snow-covered ground of the garden outside your windows.

The memory of that night still made him smile.

Snowmoon raised itself on its hind legs, the little bell on its collar jingling. It propped its front paws against his knee, and chirped imploringly. Jing Yuan could only assume that he had been so engrossed in his gardening that the sound of the bell had gone unnoticed.

How did you get out? he wondered as he picked up the kitten, holding it up in front of him. 

The kitten returned his gaze evenly with its brilliantly blue eyes and began to purr. Cradling it to his chest, he stood, intending to put the cat back inside. It had yet to learn that the birds of the garden were off-limits. And the birds had yet to learn what the sound of the bell signified.

But as he stood, he caught sight of another figure in the morning light. You were bundled up in several layers of clothing, seemingly ready to spend a while outside.

Jing Yuan frowned. “What are you doing out of bed, my love?” he asked. “It is still so early.”

You looked away, trying to hide the shy smile forming on your lips. You were still not used to the terms of endearment which he favored.

“I wanted to lend you a hand,” you said.

He appreciated the sentiment. But he found it difficult to imagine you crouching in the dirt like he had been. 

“There is no need, my dear, I am almost finished.”

Your mouth set in a stubborn line. “Then I will help with the last of it.”

The firmness in your voice made his heart flutter. He enjoyed all the work you put into getting to know him better. And he made sure to return it tenfold.

“Very well, my love. Let me just put this little rascal back inside.”

As he came outside once again, he found you crouched over the rosebush he had been working on, your long sleeves almost trailing in the dirt.

That will not do.

Jing Yuan pulled out the long ribbon holding his hair as he moved closer. Crouching behind you, he deftly wound it first underneath one sleeve, across your back, then underneath the other sleeve, tying it at your shoulder. His actions left your arms bare, sleeves far out of harm’s way. 

You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps forming on your newly exposed skin. 

Jing Yuan rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into your body. “You are still free to go inside.”

You huffed. “I will not.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Handing you the pruning shears, he showed you where to prune, guiding your hands. The two of you chatted idly about the roses for a while, when he expected them to bloom and what colors he had planted. Then the topic moved to the future as a whole.

“Tell me, my love,” Jing Yuan said, wrapping his arms around you, “I know you have only been with me for a few short months, but how do you like it so far?” 

You leaned back against him, nestling further into his embrace.

“I enjoy it so very much. I appreciate the freedom I have, compared to the inner court. And…” You turned enough to meet his gaze, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “I have grown quite fond of the master of this house.”

He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to be jealous of this man?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a smile lingering on your own mouth. “He has been very kind to me.”

“I suppose I shall have to be even kinder, then,” he said, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

Maybe there really was something to the saying of ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Jing Yuan was certainly feeling very fortunate at that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Em 💖

[sentigabrielapologist]

Weeeeee

[creature-wizard]

Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler: Two Of The Most Dangerous Conspiracy Theorists Most People Have Never Heard Of

Fritz Springmeier is a conspiracy theorist who has written a number of absolute doorstoppers (the content of his books is poorly arranged and highly repetitive) claiming the existence of a global satanic cult that secretly controls the world - basically, your typical Protocols of Zion redux shit. Some of his books were written with Cisco Wheeler, a(n alleged) multiple system he claims to have deprogrammed from Illuminati mind control in 1994. Their work has been deeply influential on today's general belief in alter programming. Even if you've never read Wheeler and Springmeier's work directly, you may have come across their ideas. If you've seen anything about jewel programming, flower programming, alpha/beta/delta/epsilon programming, etc.? That's from them. Writers such as Unwelcome Ozian and Svali get their material from their work (in fact, Unwelcome Ozian's book Chainless Slaves literally copypastes some of their material), and people such as Ellen P. Lacter and Alison Miller of the ISSTD/RAMCOA-SIG frequently cite Svali. Furthermore, their work has had a huge impact on David Icke's reptilian alien conspiracy theories.

Here's a selection (yes, seriously, the following wall of text is only a small sample) of their claims from their trilogy series on Illuminati mind control (They Know Not What They Do - An Illustrated Guide To Monarch Mind Control, The Illuminati Formula Used To Create An Undetectable Total Mind Controlled Slave, and Deeper Insights Into The Illuminati Formula), which they wrote/published in the mid to late 1990's:

The Illuminati is a multi-generational satanic cult made up of thirteen elite bloodlines, who are working behind the scenes to enthrone the Antichrist in the year 2000. (It's been over twenty years, still no Antichrist.)

The Illuminati is behind the French Revolution and the Abolition movement. (Conspiracy theories invented by people who were pro-monarchy and pro-slavery.)

The Illuminati is pushing for gay rights as part of their plan to bring the Antichrist into power.

The Illuminati creates effeminate gay men by dosing pregnant mothers with progesterone and estrogen.

The Illuminati practices "trauma-based mind control," which in this context refers to an alleged (and very unsubstantiated) practice of inflicting brutal tortures to trigger the formation of alters, which will be programmed for various tasks, and made accessible to programmers via special codes and triggers.

TBMC practices often (though not always) take the form of satanic rituals. (Evil is always very, very theatrical in the minds of conspiracy theorists.)

The Illuminati's rituals are "based upon the most ancient mystery religions," because "one of the secrets of the Mystery Religions, especially the Egyptian Isis mystery religion was the ability to use drugs and torture to create multiple personalities." (Citation needed, Fritz.)

The European witch hunts were actually justified, because Europe was full of satanic practitioners of trauma-based mind control. (Seriously, what kind of ghoul claims the witch hunts were in any way justified?)

The Nazis' eugenics program wasn't actually about eugenics. It was actually a front for researching mind control, and that Project Monarch was based on research conducted by Dr. Josef Mengele, whom they claim was an "adept in Caballistic magic" assisted by "Askenazi hasidic black magic adepts." (This is a variation on the claim that Jews actually orchestrated the Holocaust)

Groups that are part of the Illuminati and practice Monarch mind control include (but are not limited to) The Catholic Church/Jesuits, Mormons, Assembly of God churches, the Watchtower Society, Hasidic Judaism, modern witchcraft, Druidry, Santeria, Freemasons, Golden Dawn, NASA, and professional baseball. (I think we can agree that some of these groups are very harmful, but that doesn't mean they're part of this conspiracy he's talking about.)

There are many different types of Monarch alter programming, including but not limited to gem programming, elemental programming, flower programming, color programming, Gumby programming, beehive programming, sex kitten programming, Greek letter programming, carousel programming, demon programming, alien programming, Mensa programming, Atlantis programming, paper doll programming, tumbleweed programming, waterjar shaking programming, Cinderella programming - it goes on.

"Body programs" can be installed to cause hearing problems, circulation issues, headaches, digestive problems, heart failure - basically, all those health problems that people who aren't conspiracy theorists would explain through allergies, stress, mental illness, or just common flaws of the human body.

Most slaves have "end-time programming," and will be activated to round up and kill opponents of the NWO when the time comes from the Antichrist to take power. (Again, it's been over twenty years.

Cisco Wheeler was programmed to be part of the Antichrist's elite imperial guard.

They claim, and I quote, "drugs, torture, hypnosis and MPD all work to enhance memory" and "most slaves have some photographic memory capability." They also claim that systemwide photographic memory can be created through brain stem scarring. (Conspiracy theorists literally made this up.)

The brains of Monarch slaves are more active than normal people's brains, because both sides of the Monarch slave's brain work simultaneously. (Both sides of everyone's brains are working all the time, that is literally how brains work.)

Mind control implants have been a thing since the 1960's. One woman had an implant disguised as a pubic hair. JZ Knight had an audio implant in her teeth that activated her to become a New Age leader. Microchip implants can affect DNA growth. "Fiber optic" mind control devices can be shot into the skin from a distance. (You can tell they rely on their audience to not understand anything about electronics in addition to neuroscience.)

Switching alters can literally change the color of your eyes. (It's impossible for someone's eyes to instantly switch color in the same way it's impossible for their skin to instantly change color.)

Fairy tales, fantasy media, movies, and television shows are full of deliberate programming. Some (but not all) of the media Springmeier and Wheeler implicate includes The Wizard of Oz, The Chronicles of Narnia, Alice in Wonderland, Disney films in general, A Little Princess, Star Trek, Star Wars, E.T., Tiny Toons, The Simpsons, Frankenstein, Bewitched, and Labyrinth.

Basically, any piece of entertainment that isn't morally pure from a far right Christian perspective is part of the Illuminati's plan to corrupt the youth and lead them down the patch of witchcraft and into satanism.

The story of the Golem is actually about a mind-controlled slave, and that "the main goal of the Cabala is to create a mind-controlled slave called a golem." Also, the Brothers Grimm were "Cabalistic Jews." (For a guy who insists he's not antisemitic, Fritz Springmeier sure likes to accuse people of being Jewish and demonize Jewish stuff.)

Famous Illuminati slaves include (but are not limited to) Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Roseanne Barr, Bette Midler, Madonna, and the Beatles. They claim Charles Manson was programmed with Beatles music.

(List break here because this whole thing was longer than Tumblr's allowed block length. Again, I emphasize, I am only posting a small sample of the BS they put in their books.)

The Illuminati's intelligence agencies have programmed "thousands upon thousands of slaves." The Naval Ordinance Test Station at China Lake was actually a Monarch programming facility, where thousands of babies were kept in cages. "Lots of 1000 babies was a small batch," and "many batches were 2000 or 3000 babies."

The average Monarch system is programmed with 1000 alters.

The Illuminati prefers to program blond, blue-eyed children without visible body defects or scars. (Funny how these conspiracy theorists keep claiming to hate white supremacy, then insist blond, blue-eyed children are special targets.)

The Illuminati has no trouble finding sadistic torturers because, and I quote, "essentially all human males can be taught to engage in sadistic behavior." In fact, the Illuminati's Mothers of Darkness are often necessary to make sure the male torturers don't go too far.

The Illuminati used chimpanzees to physically torture children. (The pair of them clearly do not understand how strong chimpanzees actually are.)

Babies can learn to read by six months old with the use of subliminal tapes.

Learning to write backwards makes you more likely to dissociate. (Bizarre variant on old 'Satan does things backwards to mock God' canard.)

Failed Monarch programming/TBMC causes autism. Autism is when children withdraw from the world and retreat into themselves. (If there's two things we know about autism, it's that it's not traumagenic, and it's not about withdrawing from the world to retreat into your own mind.)

If you hang someone upside down long enough, they will begin to reverse pain and pleasure. Yeah, supposedly, if you physically reverse a person's body, their mind will start reversing, too. This, apparently, is how we get kinksters who like pain.

Scars can be made more visible via hypnotic command, and this has been a thing in the occult world for centuries. (Modern version of the Devil's Mark/witch's tit myth.)

Moles are a sign of prior electroshock torture. (Another modern version of the Devil's mark/witch's tit myth.)

King Hezekiah - yes, the Biblical King Hezekiah - was a child victim of satanic ritual abuse. (Of course the Bible chapter they cite - 2 Chronicles 29 - mentions nothing of the sort.)

Direct quote, "Vice-President Al Gore is a vampire and carries a briefcase of blood with him." (Modern conspiracy theorists love to sling blood libel at Democrats.)

Hillary Clinton is an Illuminati Grand Dame and programmer. (Gotta accuse those Democrat women of being witches.)

Roma people practice cannibalism. (Pure anti-Romani racism.)

The Illuminati has the cure for AIDS.

Adrenochrome is a secret black market drug. (This is a modern form of blood libel.)

Snuff pornography is a real thing. (It's really not.)

Being on Prozac makes you susceptible to becoming homicidal or suicidal if you're exposed to certain electromagnetic frequencies. The Illuminati is deliberately exposing people to these frequencies to increase these behaviors in order to get anti-gun legislation passed.

Cellphone towers emit electromagnetic frequencies that can control people's minds.

Putting one's hands behind one's head is a secret Illuminati hand signal meaning "I'm master." Folding one's hands is a secret Illuminati symbol for "you can't break the circle." Thumb-twiddling is an Illuminati hand signal for S&M. Other normal, everyday hand positions/gestures/movements are given equally conspiratorial explanations.

The "Vulcan peace sign" is an Illuminati/occult greeting. (This claim isn't just demonizing Star Trek - it's antisemitic.)

High-ranking members of the Illuminati hold fancy cannibal dinner parties and feed children to lions and tigers.

Lots and lots of child sacrifice happens. There's even rituals where children sacrifice other children and eat their hearts.

The shape of your skull affects your personality, and the Illuminati creates permanent personality changes by changing the shapes of people's skulls. (This is literally phrenology, which is pseudoscience.)

The Illuminati implants real, actual demons into victims, which can only be removed through Christian deliverance. Also, accepting Jesus as one's Lord and Savior is the only way for victims to truly heal, no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes.

Down's Syndrome can be cured with cranial manipulation. (Craniosacral therapy is quackery.)

Many people diagnosed with schizophrenia have actually been given implants by the government.

Ronald Reagan is "our future president." (Yes, Fritz Springmeier wrote these words during the Clinton administration.)

The US government has built 140 massive underground bases for various purposes, including housing "several varieties of aliens."

The Illuminati has been creating human clones and biological robot doubles for years, and has created such doubles for politicians such as Jimmy Carter. (Allegations of clones and duplicates goes back to the witch hunts, where witch hunters would claim Satan conjured up doubles for witches so their families wouldn't miss them while they went to the witches' sabbath. Also, it's a form of dehumanization.)

Therapists treating victims of alter programming/trauma-based mind control should separate their clients from their programmer (read: isolate them from friends, family, and acquaintances) and hold multi-hour therapy sessions to help them remember their abuse and discover their hidden alters (read: make sure they're constantly exposed to this narrative so they'll start to internalize it and begin "remembering" what you want). Wheeler outright says that the "better therapists" will wear down their clients with lengthy question and answer sessions. She recommends having a team of therapists to work on a single client, with a female mother figure and male father figure.

Depression is a sin that comes from a lack of faith.

Trance-Formation of America is a good example of how mind control victims are treated. (Trance-Formation of America is also part of the Project Monarch/alter programming conspiracy theory.)

Full quote, "All Illuminati victims of mind-control have been terrorized by their abusers about how God hates them and how God will punish them for their badness." (In other words, much of what these people are chalking up to alter programming/TBMC can very easily be explained by religious trauma from being brought up in a conservative Christian environment.)

Again, these are the types of claims made by the two people from which all of this stuff about all of these specific types of alter programming, body programs, etc. originate. Whether or not people on RAMCOA sites acknowledge Springmeier and Wheeler outright, much the stuff they're claiming can very much be traced back to them.

Now, some of you reading this might still be wondering whether the alter programming could more than a conspiracy theory; like, maybe there's actually people out there who are really doing this, even if they aren't involved in some grand sinister conspiracy. And the answer is still no.

First, this conspiracy theory effectively proposes that there was an epidemic of people engaging in this very specific practice back during a time period when the most that people knew about DID (if they knew about DID at all) came from from the Sybil book or movie (and the real "Sybil" never had DID); or even before that point, if we include the people who claimed they were programmed in the 40's-60's. The idea that all of these unconnected people all independently came up with this is simply beyond absurd. If this was a real practice being done out there by any significant number of people at all, extensive technical literature describing the procedures in full detail would have to exist. This literature would at some point have been found in the homes, workplaces, etc. of programmers. Alter programming has allegedly been practiced since at least the 1940s, and not a single piece of this literature has ever been found anywhere; not on the most depraved 4Chan user's computer, not in the edgiest occultist's library, and not in the home of any child molesting priest. The only literature that describes these supposed practices comes from conspiracy theorists, and they aren't nearly detailed enough to constitute any kind of actual manual. It's very telling that when Fritz Springmeier et al name books that supposedly contain this sort of information, the books either contain nothing of the sort (for example, old grimoires), or have no evidence of ever existing in the first place.

And while it's true that extreme trauma can cause dissociation and the formation of alters, that's about the only thing this conspiracy theory gets right. Everything else is like some kind of edgy sci-fi take on it, about as accurate to real neuroscience as Jaws is to real sharks. The people who thought they saw evidence of "structured DID" back in the day made a similar error to the people who look at natural hills and mountains and think they're seeing ancient pyramids, or look at Bimini Road and actually think it's a real man-made road rather than a natural rock formation. People would look at someone having literally any trauma response or distress behavior (which may or may not have actually involved DID or OSDD), and think they were seeing the work of some diabolical mastermind. Basically, it's a form of pareidolia. The therapists would share their beliefs with their patients, who would internalize it in their own minds, and come back with stuff that seemed to confirm their therapists' suspicions.

What's going on here is a pretty straightforward case of confabulated memory cultivation. This kind of thing happens all the time in places like the New Age starseed movement, where people start learning New Age mythology and what kind of alien beings they supposedly could have been in a past life. Whether through hypnosis, vivid dreams, or even incredibly vivid flashes of mental imagery out of the blue, people begin "remembering" supposed lost memories that simply cannot be real because real historical evidence contradicts them at nearly every turn. You can see examples of this for yourself over here and over here.

Confabulated memory cultivation isn't really practiced on purpose, per se; at least, not typically. What happens is you have people who legitimately believe that they can retrieve lost memories, whether from their childhoods or from a past life. And unlike literature that tells you how to program alters, literature that describes methods to supposedly retrieve lost memories exists in abundance. People have made jobs out of allegedly helping people retrieve lost memories ever since people believed that was a thing they could do.

The alter programming conspiracy theory was part of a mental health fad where people believed that repressed memories were the root cause of many ordinary mental and physical health problems. Symptoms of anxiety, depression, chronic stress, PTSD, C-PTSD, BPD, schizophrenia, bipolar, autism, ADHD, allergies, mast cell activation syndrome, fibromyalgia, and more are all chalked up to repressed memories and alter programming. Very, very tellingly, many of the symptoms described in this type of literature are exactly what you'd expect from religious trauma in a conservative Christian environment. In fact, the alter programming conspiracy theory implicitly denies that it would be possible to develop serious trauma from the kind of abusive parenting that conservative Christian culture encourages and condones.

Also, the fact that the ISSTD/RAMCOA SIG continues propagating the claims made by Springmeier and Wheeler definitively shows us that the purpose of ISSTD/RAMCOA-SIG is repackaging Satanic Panic and far right conspiracy theories more generally, and that the very term "Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, & Organized Abuse" is in fact a Trojan horse intended to slip all of this stuff back into legitimate psychological discourse and discussions of systemic abuse, religious abuse, human trafficking, etc. The fact that people cannot question RAMCOA without being accused of denying these things shows that this is working out really well for the the ISSTD/RAMCOA SIG right now.

I'd like to emphasize that I am not trying to say that people who were led to believe they were victims of alter programming haven't been severely abused in some way, or that none of them have DID. This conspiracy theory is very much built to prey on these sorts of people. The point I am making is that it is indeed a conspiracy theory, and that it harms many people, both with and without DID.

Now, I know there's some folks out there who have been led to believe that real evidence of widespread alter programming or even widespread ritual abuse (ie, the practice of abusive occultic rituals) were found, but conservative Christians simply co-opted real events to attack the people they didn't like. And that simply isn't what happened. It was the conspiracy theorists - people like Dr. Lawrence Pazder and Mike Warnke - who positioned themselves as ritual abuse experts and instructed police and therapists on what to look out for. It was always a literal witch hunt from the very beginning.

If you are looking for any kind of mental health support, or wish to talk about real forms of abuse, I strongly recommend avoiding terms like Satanic Ritual Abuse, Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, & Organized Abuse, Organized Abuse, Organized Extreme Abuse, Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, Trauma-Based Mind Control, and so on, because these are all terms created and used by conspiracy theorists. We have other terms to talk about real abuse, including spiritual abuse, religious abuse, systemic abuse, institutional abuse, sexual abuse, sex trafficking, and so on.

Likewise, if you see someone using these terms, you know that their information is downstream from conspiracy theorists, and therefore, is highly suspect. If you're looking for any sort of mental health/trauma support whatsoever, be very wary whenever you see someone using them. Even if they mean well, what they're putting out there is still contaminated by the myths and misinformation of the Satanic Panic, which will never support actual healing.

[spectrum-spectre]

oh man... I just experienced A Thought™ again

I'm never gonna write this, so if someone else wants to, go right ahead (preferably with credit, please):

Everyone thinks that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are alphas, but they're actually hiding their true designations--not because they're scared omegas, but because they're both secretly betas.

They're mimicking! You obviously can't choose what you present as (unless you go through bitching or studding, but this is rural Indiana in the 80's; nobody in that town has ever even heard of these things)--

BUT! Your designation can be partially influenced by your environment! That's why Steve's dad made him join three different sports teams; to encourage his body to develop into that of an alpha. Except, well... Steve doesn't really want that. He hates the culture surrounding alpha males, but he also sees how the world treats omegas of all genders, and he doesn't want to play a part in any of that bullshit. So his body decides to present as something else entirely.

Eddie's story was much the same, but he also went through a different kind of pressure from his family. His parents fought a lot, so he would play the mediator in a desperate attempt to keep them together (and so his dad would target his anger at him instead--just like he does with bullies at school).

Steve sees alphas as assholes, and Eddie sees alphas as abusive, but they both recognize they would be granted a certain level of safety and social standing if everyone thought that they were alphas instead.

That's not even getting into the fact that betas aren't exactly a hot commodity; Steve is terrified that people will find him boring--or worse, undesirable.

They came up with the plan together. Steve was a sophomore, and Tommy had dared him to try buying weed from the weird junior who still hadn't presented *yet. Eddie had just seen his last client for the day, but as soon as Steve approached the picnic table, both their presentations hit at the same time. There's no beta equivalent of a heat/rut, they just... suddenly Know™ that's what their designation is.

It was actually Steve's idea, at first. He remembered reading a book about mimicry in elementary school, and when he mentioned Monarch Butterflies, Eddie came up with the nickname King Steve (it only stuck because other students overheard Eddie refer to him as that while snarkily muttering under his breath). He helped Steve flesh out the details of the plan, and the two came to an agreement: they'd try to prevent targeted harassment from their respective cliques, under the threat of mutually assured destruction.

*in my mind, they go through their initial puberty around ages 11-13, and then their presentation/second puberty hits around ages 14-16. I imagine Steve was freshly 16, with Eddie just a few weeks shy of turning 17, so he was a bit of a late bloomer.

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Masterlist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

Warnings: this fic will contain mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, smut, angst, fluff.

A/N: I’d like to thank @joshsindigostreak for always believing in my AUs and helping me workshop them to find the plot, and a big huge thank you to @earthlysorrows for helping me write through all my brain funks and beta-reading/editing. I truly don’t know what I would do without you!! 💖

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

“Does the prince not charm you?” Danny asked, the firelight dancing across his tanned skin. You bristled slightly, your memory pouring through the letters you had exchanged with the monarch. 

“He,” you paused, finding the right words. “He is not as verbose when it comes to the written word as I would like.” Danny smirked, knowing the rumors the prince was a dud were proving themselves true. 

“What would you want him to write?” Taking a sip of your ale, you almost snorted into the pint glass. 

“Anything other than the acres of land I lived on or how the castle in Farrynden is one of the best in the world.” you made a face, rolling your eyes. “I once wrote him a letter, telling him that thinking of our upcoming nuptials had my bosoms heaving.” 

“And what was his response?” Danny asked softly.

“His response was to ask if my father had any cattle.” Danny’s smirk fell, his eyes darting over you. His iris's darkened, his tongue licking his lips before he spoke again.

“If you had written me a letter about your heaving bosoms I would write you one back telling you all the ways I would touch them, tease them.” your cheeks reddened as your breath caught in your throat, watching as Danny leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose nearly bumping yours. Feeling a ghost of his breath upon your lips, your eyes fluttered shut, heart pounding calling to him to move just a few more inches so his lips would touch yours.

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammykiszkamyass @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr

@musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling @peaceloveunitygvf @wrldabomination @gretavfreaky @kakejiszkas @brujamagik

[yaut-jaknowit]

New Feelings

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader(Platonic)

Word Count: 3057

Summary: During this time, We'ar-ow takes a momentary step back from ruling to care for you. Just in the confinements of her private room though. You come to realize how different she acts in front of company.

Author Note: Had a bit of a mix-up on the masterlist but it's resolved now! I've also got the next chapter finished about to finish the one after that so I'm getting back to writing book. Not beta read. If there is something confusing or stupid, let me know and I'll fix it.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

In We’ar-ow’s throne room, many Yautjas have come to report to their leader. It was a short line at first when she had originally dragged you from the safety of her room early this morning. A regular amount of people, you had thought at first. It doesn’t just take one person to lead a clan like this. But more later filled the throne room that it finally hit the door.

It’s not like you paid a great amount of attention to them. Just enough to see each of their faces and file them away for a later date. All for sake of one of them being your stalker. Whoever hunted you through the halls of this very ship could possibly be in this room with you. Would they slay you before the Monarch? And what would their thought process be? Cleaning the ship of scum? Disturbing We’ar-ow?

That had you rolling your eyes, head bowed to hide away your emotions. We’ar-ow did not care that much about you to have your death disturb her. Just a fucking pet. Your senses still completely open for an attack. Anyone of them could slip out of line and slaughter you without remorse. These are hunters. Born, bred, built to maim anything in their way. A shiver ran its course through your body.

The tablet in hand was momentarily discarded mentally. The thoughts of decapitation or dismembering filled your head. None of them would blink an eye about it. Just your blood staining the like-carpet material blanketing the stairs and floor. Or the cushion gifted to you. All would be brushed off. Their day would continue like normal. You sighed heavily through your nose and tilted your head back to stare at the strangely decorated ceiling.

A mural of sorts had been painted over the expanse of the ceiling. Only spots of flush lights broke the illusion of how intricate. You shook your head and focused back on the line.

Someone bypassed the entire line and marched up the stairs that lead to We’ar-ow’s throne. Your back tensed at the sight, on the verge of snapping in half. This Yautja, male by his shorter stature, ignored you and stopped before her seat. A nearly playful look twinkled in his sea green-blue eyes. He gave a polite bow to his leader then begun to discuss with her, short, sweet.

“May I?” he questioned and motioned over to you. Your heart dropped to the floor. Instantly, you rapidly shook your head to deter him or her from getting close to you.

We’ar-ow nodded her massive head and returned her attention back to the figure before her. Your jaw dropped at her abandonment. A week ago you had almost died! Maybe, possibly. You didn’t know if death was going to happen that day but it made it all the scary of not knowing.

The new figure smiled with his alien mandibles and spun on his heel to face your sitting form. Terror ran cold in your blood at his first step. The next had you trembling. He knelt down a step just before yours. He wasn’t a young Yautja anymore. The lines and many scars the decorated his skin were an indication. What caught your eye like shining gold was his right arm. The elbow and below was gone, poof. Just a nub and gnarly scars. A well decorated hunter who’s earned his title by the looks of it.

You swallowed thickly but stayed seat on the cushion. Somehow. The Yautja huffed, the lightest of smirks playing his face. He reached out with his only hand and plucked the tablet from your grasp. “Whatcha got here?” he questioned and began to scroll through the page you were on. An article about Yautja Prime, their home planet.

He snickered and gave a look that ‘really?’. The device was tossed back into your lap but your attention was solely on the potentially dangerous figure before you. But… We’ar-ow seemed at ease around him and allowed him to approach you. Something you hadn’t expected after that night and the following days.

“If ya wanna know about home world, you could get it from the source,” he spoke in a voice that gave you smoker vibes. It almost drowned out the translator tucked underneath your skin, behind your ear. Automatically, you glanced over at We’ar-ow hard at work. A light tap to your knee had you snapping back to him. “Not her, ooman. Me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Him? You just met him. Not even completely! He hadn’t told you his name. He saw the puzzle look on your features and snorted. “Monarch may say she could care less if I dropped off into the space port but she cares, doesn’t she?” What was his point? His angle? What did he want? And why was he being so friendly to you? Did he get knocked up side the head far too many times?

Plus, why did his last two words sound like there was an underlying tone in his voice. “I don’t, don’t even know your name,” you stuttered and gave him a look as if he was crazed. Curse the stutter!

“Oh, right. Thought she would’ve said a thing or two about me. Hurts the heart a little.” You just kept staring at him, puzzled on this whole attitude. He was completely different from any Yautja you’ve met before. Even if the list is fairly short. They’ve never acted so… carefree. Was this the crazy old man of the ship?

“Call me Xilo, short for Xilomere,” he finally introduced. Still tensed painfully, you stiffy nodded your head and murmur a ‘okay’, hoping it was enough to get him to leave. It wasn’t. “And you’re the Monarch’s pet. An ooman who’s been talk of the town for the last half solar cycle! You don’t realize the uproar you caused when the newly blooded brought you here. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have survived to see the next day.”

He said it so causally. You could’ve died when Dwainet brought you here… death. This was all a horrible mistake with consequences hard to live with.

We’ar-ow stopped them from killing you. She allowed you to stay. Why?! Your eyes drifted back over to the hard-working Yautja ensuring her ship and community don’t collapse on itself. Did… did she want you back then?

A hunter at their core must be patient.

That what it is to be a hunter. What did this all mean?! You gnawed on your bottom lip when the green Yautja before you patted your knee. “She didn’t tell you? Whoops.” Then, he leaned in close to whisper something of importance. “Don’t tell her I told you. Act natural.” All you could do was blink dumbly at him.

‘Act natural’? ‘Act natural’?! He was just as irritating at We’ar-ow with their up front, uncaring, idiotic words! How could you just go one knowing that if it wasn’t for her you would be dead!? Or the fact she might have been wanting you for her own pet this entire time?! Just waiting like the hunter was born to be for the right moment to snatch you up.

All of this was a mistake. You wanted to breakdown all over again. The wounds still fresh enough to ache in your poor heart.

Xilo pulled back with that same cocky smirk. “If you ever need to chat, dear ooman. My contact has been inputted into your toy. Now, I should dip before I spill more than I should about our lovely Monarch.” He pushed back up into a standing position, knees popping with the action. He gave you a two-finger salute, spun on his heel, and left through the way he came.

On his only hand, he was missing his entire pinky and the tip of his ring finger. Something you realized after he already left. You grumbled underneath your breath for a few minutes after the interaction and messed around on your tablet. He didn’t need to announce to the whole throne room what you were doing on the tablet. Yes, you were gathering information about their planet. It’s not like you freely look for ways to escape the mothership right in front of her. You were on the steps, before her throne though to the side. One turn of her head could expose your whole plan.

To be honest, you’ve thought about this. She has to have some knowledge of you wanting to escape. But if she’s not worried… that means she is confidence there isn’t way to escape. But there is. At least to get off of here. Away from being her damn pet.

The like-leather encasing your throat is a feeling you’ve started to grow accustomed to. At nights, We’ar-ow allows you to take it off. Thankfully. But in the morning, it’s back on; with complaints almost every time. It’s a loosing battle at this point. The only way to gain back what you’ve lost is to escape. Away, far from this place.

So, you learned, research what you could about Yautjas. From their planet to the motherships they use to roam the universe to the different subspecies to hunting styles. Everything. To know your enemy is the way to defeat your enemy. To outsmart them, her. It’s the only way to escape.

But is that what you want?

.

Once the day ended, in the middle of the afternoon, the two of you retired back to her quarters. The safety away from prying eyes and possibly danger. Though, to be frank, this was the lions den you not only eat and bathe in, but also sleep and relax in. You ran your fingers through your hair after the door seal shut, leaving you alone with We’ar-ow.

Said salmon pink Yautja strolled across the living room and into her room. Door left open. That struck you. The door always shuts after her. Why leave it open?

Curiosity may have killed the cat… and now you.

You tiptoed across the length of the main room and peered around the entrance of her door. You’ve been in here before. With her permission. She’s never left the door open before though. You didn’t dare take another step into the bedroom.

For a moment, you couldn’t find her until a light flicked on and caught your eye. We’ar-ow’s back was to you as she stood in the doorway of another room to the right wall. The new light shone on what looked to be clothing. She has a walk in closet, what else did you expect from her?

Then, the Yautja began to strip. You felt your eyes bulge out from your head at the sight, but unable to peel your sight away. Its not like you hadn’t seen Dwainet naked before… plenty of times, plenty. He had bulk similar to We’ar-ow but she has honed in to be able to be agile and lethal. Move faster than you could process sometimes.

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes partially glazed over. Her muscles weren’t well defined as some you’ve seen. That didn’t mean thickly corded muscles didn’t lie underneath her thick, pink skin. No wonder many Yautjas looked at not just respect/fear of her being Monarch but for her beauty as well.

Her thumbs shimmied under her waistband and began to push down. This is where you slam your back against the wall outside of the room and slapped a hand over your mouth.

Boiling heat flushed to your cheeks, eyes clenched shut. Why had you done that?! That… that-

“You are missing the show,” We’ar-ow’s voice funneled out into the main room where you were. Your knees nearly gave out right then. She knew. Oh my god. She fucking knew! “Come on out, pet.” She used a honeyed voice as an attempt to coax you out from hiding. She already knew that you were right there.

With whatever courage you still had after all this time, you stepped back into the doorway with your head bowed. She would have to rip your head off to make you look at her.

Pink feet entered your vision. A knuckle tried to tilt your head up at first before you felt her lean down, mouth close to your ear now. “Did my pet enjoy the show?” she whispered softly into your ear. Your spine locked up, chest heaving with unsteady breaths. “Calm, little one. I asked a question.”

Anger flashed to life in your veins was quickly stomped out from the embarrassment. She wanted you to speak! Why does she keep doing that? You felt on the verge of crying. “S-sorry,” you sputtered then pressed your lips tightly against each other. Her knuckle was still firm against your chin, not relenting. But neither were you.

We’ar-ow softly huffed and corralled you to the nearest wall. Her free hand wrapped around your neck and locked you against said wall. “That is not the answer I was looking for, pet.” You best believe she could hear how wild your heart was pounding in your chest. On the verge of jumping out into her hands.

From past experiences, you knew she wasn’t going to stop until she got your answer. Lying was off the table too. Yautjas have a keen sense of smell. They know. You swallowed the lump down, feeling her hand twitch slightly around your throat. “Yes,” you murmured just above a breath. She was able to tilt your head up and you met her eyes.

Far from anger. We’ar-ow looked down at you with an alien smirk gracing her face. Your heart stuttered, but not from fear. She wasn’t furious, not at all. It’s like… oh my god, she wanted you to look, to watch even. It was all a setup. Your face soured. You had nowhere to go though. We’ar-ow had you trapped to the wall.

“Smart ooman.” She read you like an open book. You scowled at her. “I am glad that enjoyed what I offered. I will know what to do for next time.” Then, her body heat left you as she pulled away. “Go eat. There are some berries in the cooling containment for you.” Sometimes the translator wasn’t the most accurate about words.

Blindly listening to her, you unsteadily stumbled your way into the kitchen-like room. In the refrigerator, you pulled out the bowl and berries then added a couple of fruits to it as well. You were still dazed while sitting down on the one-seater in the living room.

A berry was tossed into your mouth. The taste bursting over your tastebuds. They were delicious, not something you expected from a species that looked like they had a stick always stuck up their ass. You scoffed and curled up more on the couch. Your legs tucked underneath your body with the bowl placed in your lap.

As you sat peacefully on the couch, you couldn’t help but remember what We’ar-ow had said earlier. Something on the lines of knowing what to do for next time. Next time? Why would there be a next time?! She… fuck, you couldn’t deny the fact you were watching her, curious on what lied below her clothing. Though, there wasn’t much fabric she used to cover herself. None of the Yautjas did. Nudity wasn’t frowned upon like it is for your species.

Your brows furrowed the more you thought about it. They way you watched… and she wanted you to. She set you up and you enjoyed it!

All thoughts came to a halt… Enjoyed? Did you enjoy it? You didn’t dare answer that. You frowned and shifted once more to have your legs over the arm rest, back to the other side. Another few berries were tossed into your mouth, mindlessly munching on them.

What is wrong with you? You sighed and curled more in yourself. This was all wrong. After Dwainet, you sworn to never feel a thing for any of these monsters. That’s what they are. Dwainet took you from your home, away from everything you knew and promised you love that he clearly lost for you. Now, look where it got you. In the worst place possible. Escape was hard enough but if she was interested in you… that was a whole either situation you had to worry about. At a later date. Today, you had to survive the stalker.

Warm arms scooped you up from the couch. You yelped and scrambled to right yourself but the limbs tensed and kept you firmly in place. When a familiar pink flashed in your vision you stilled, eyes wide and glancing up at the Yautja holding you. “What are you doing?” you questioned, voice faltering.

We’ar-ow held you close to her, against her bare chest, turned around, then stole your spot. A grumpy look fell over your features as you were ready to flail around to escape. The Yautja chuckled and patted your cheek. “You look cute when you are pouting,” she teased and plucked a piece fruit from your bowl. There was nothing you could do to fight her.

Stiffly, you hesitantly relaxed into her lap once realizing there wasn’t a chance to wiggle free. She let a slackened arm fall over your lap. You tensed but returned to your former position, half-mindlessly munching at the berries she snacked on as well. The Yautja didn’t say anything else and seemed to enjoy your company.

Despite the will to fight her, to fight this; after the last week living in the terror of being hunted down by a Yautja has worn you down. She was there. She willingly protected you. She carried you to her room, set you down in her bed, and locked you in her room. For your protection. She cares. To what extent is a great question you would love to answer.

For the time being, you would enjoy her warm body and food she provided. Though, it came with an unfortunate title: pet. Your lips pressed against each other at the reminder. There was always a trade off and maybe it had to come with that title to live a life worriless.

You’ve yet to come to terms with that though. The pain still far too fresh to think of lying and rolling over for her. Or anyone for that matter.

Special tag: @michellefoster12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18