#moonlit-destiny

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

[laraibbukhari]

It could all be in the palm of your hands but still not written for you.

—Destiny

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

ngl...it is kind of nice thinking of an f/o being fiercely protective of you. Keeping watch of you when you feel unsafe, glaring at people who make you feel uncomfortable. Saving you from people who put you in danger. Always checking up on whether your boundaries being met. Always listening to you setting those boundaries. And most importantly, you and them, in a comfortable spot, with them holding you in the most loving, tender, gentle way possible.

[theversevoyager]

In the realm of the Moonlit Grove, where magic blooms, A character discovers an ability unheard of, and creatures dance in harmony. Whispers echo through time, guiding their steps toward destiny. The stars align, as secrets unfold, and the tale of newfound power is woven with threads of wonder. This is the summary of your work so far: A short Sci-Fi poem based on a character discovering a hidden talent or ability in a magical realm, featuring fantastical creatures and minimal formatting was created.

[sleepy-kitten-of-mine]

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

Listen up, I have an important message for you. Whatever you do, DON’T imagine your f/o dripping wet. Hey. HEY! What did I just say? Don’t imagine their hair dropped down, sticking to the side of their face, with little water droplets falling off every so often.

[dunebrat]

THE PEOPLES PRINCESS

Reader x feyd rautha smut

Summary: you get married off by your father to secure alliances. Despite you knowing your new husbands reputation, you finds yourself drawn to him.

➽─────────────────────❥

As you stepped onto the arid planet of Arrakis, the sun beat down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the shifting dunes. You, a princess, were escorted by your father, the ruler of your home planet, to marry the infamous Feyd Rautha. Your first encounter with Feyd was chilling. He stood tall and imposing, his eyes cold as they met yours. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

Throughout the preparations for the wedding, Feyd remained distant, barely acknowledging your presence. Amidst the bustling preparations, your father sought you out, his regal bearing softened by a look of paternal concern. He approached you with a tenderness that belied his stoic exterior, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"My dear," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with gravity, "today, you embark on a new journey, one that will shape the course of your destiny."

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions churning within you. "Father," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know not what the future holds, but I will face it with courage and grace."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grasp your hand. "You are a beacon of strength and resilience, my child," he said, his voice filled with pride. "No matter what lies ahead, remember that you are never alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you embraced him.

Your wedding gown, made from the finest silks and embellished with gorgeous lace and brilliant gems, was a vision of grandeur and elegance. Its flowing procession, glistening in the intense desert sun, followed you like a moonlit river. As you stood in the grand hall, waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that once the ceremony commenced, there would be no turning back.

But amidst the fear, there was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this union with Feyd would bring you the happiness and fulfillment you had always longed for. But you know the man that will soon be your husband is no kind man. But as you stood before him at the altar, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce determination. When he leaned in to kiss you, you felt a rush of lust.

On your wedding night, as the grandeur of the ceremony faded into the intimacy of the chambers, you found yourself alone with Feyd. The flickering candlelight casting shadows across the room, adding to your senses heightened.

Feyd, with his usual air of confidence, approached you. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the facade you tried so desperately to maintain. He noticed the tremble in your hands, the uneasiness that lingered in your of your gaze.

"You're scared," he observed, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to deny the truth of his words. "I am," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Feyd closed the distance between you, his presence startling in its intensity, his lips twisted into a knowing smile. He said, "Fear can be a powerful motivator," with an a hint of humor in his voice. "But it can also be mastered."

With a swift yet gentle motion, he reached out to cup your face, his touch surprisingly tender against your skin. His eyes bore into yours with an unwavering gaze, as if daring you to challenge him, to defy the inevitable.

Feyd's eyes raked over your body, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts.

His voice was low and husky, his words a command.

"Strip." The word hung in the air like an order, leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation. You hesitated briefly before complying with Feyd's demand. You unbuttoned your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Underneath you wore nothing but lace underwear and stockings that accentuated every curve on your body.

Feyd's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I want you to know that I am not a man who will be gentle with you," he said in an even tone as if it were simply stating the obvious.

"I will take what I want, and you are to do as I say." The words hung in the air like a threat.

His gaze was intense, his voice commanding. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the way he spoke to you. The words were harsh and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what he had just said. The weight of his words hung heavy on the air between us and for a moment | felt trapped by them.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I will do as you say." The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's hand was on the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding.

He pulled you closer to him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. His tongue invaded your mouth with an almost brutal forcefulness as he claimed it for himself.

His other hand found its way to your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting the nipple until you gasped in pain.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it also sent a strange rush of pleasure through you. You found yourself responding to his touch in ways that surprised even you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice as if he were mapping out a territory. He pulled you closer to him until his hardness was pressed against the soft folds of your sex.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his desire for you palpable. His hands moved down to your hips and he lifted you up so that only the tip of his cock was inside you.

He held you there, teasingly close to the edge of pleasure. "Do you want this?" he asked in a low voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want me to take what I need from you?" The words were a command, not a question. The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's grip on you tightened and he thrust into you with a force that left you gasping for air. He fucks you hard and fast, his hips slamming into you with a force that left your body trembling. The pain was intense but it only seemed to fuel the fire of desire burning within him as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, a testament to how turned on you were by his rough treatment.

His hands roamed over your body, leaving bruises and marks that would be a reminder of this night for days to come.

Days passed after the wedding night, and you found yourself adjusting to life as the wife of Feyd Rautha. One evening, as you sat alone in the grand hall of the palace, Feyd approached you with a quietly. His usual stoic demeanor softened slightly as he took a seat beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“May I join you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface.

You nodded, surprised by his sudden display of openness. "Of course," you replied, unable to hide the shyness in your voice.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of activity within the palace walls. And then, with a hesitant sigh, Feyd spoke, his words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I know I am not what you expected," he began, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. "I am not known for my warmth or compassion, but know that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe from harm."

"I believe you husband," you replied softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

[officialdaydreamer00]

𝙴𝙻𝚈𝚂𝙸𝚄𝙼

"The final resting place of heroes and the virtuous.

When the concept of reincarnation gained currency in the classical world, the two Elysian realms were sometimes tiered — a soul which had won passage three times to the netherworld Elysium would, with their fourth death, be transferred to the Islands of the Blessed to dwell with the heroes of myth for all eternity.

Blessed be, the destination of two fated lovers..."

finally closing the book, you let out a soft sigh. it wasn't that you didn't enjoy mythology stories like such, far from it exactly. yet somehow, it always gave you a sense of familiarity, as if you had been through it before.

you shook your head. mythology were just stories people of ancient civilisations made up for their beliefs, of course. that was just a silly thought you had, right?

... right?

you felt a pair of arms snaked around your waist, warm and gentle as if you were made from porcelain. a familiar scent that belonged to your beloved, the comfort of which your confused soul sought for. lips leaving a fleeting kiss to your tensed neck, murmuring a voice, beautiful and soothing, you yearned to hear.

"i'm home."

right, you smiled. it didn't matter much, as long as he was still by your side.

"welcome home."

as long as your bond still prevailed.

your fated, your beloved.

𝙴𝙻𝚈𝚂𝙸𝚄𝙼 — 𝙰 200+ 𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃

(From 20th to 30th of November)

— by Lovejoy Studios

A Twisted Wonderland AU sets in an inestimable timeline, where the gods are very much real. And you, dear one, and your beloved are reunited at last, after centuries old of godly tragedies.

𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝:

In Elysium, you may decide who shall play the god, and who shall play the human. Of course, both can be gods, or both can be humans.

I unfortunately cannot stop the tragedies you might have faced in your first lives, though, for Greek mythology shows no mercy for its heroes. That, dear one, you have to figure out yourself.

𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜:

• You have to reblog this post, and spread the word to the best of your abilities. The more people who knows, the more effective it shall be.

• Seek the Oracle of Delphi and tell her your wishes. You may need to specify your beloved one, and a scenario you had in mind, else the Oracle would tell you a... less than appeal vision. However, if that is what you wanted, then I will not stop you.

• Examples of what your ask should be like:

"What is my destiny with Malleus Draconia? Would it end with us happily in love and dancing the night away under the night sky?"

or

"Tell me my destiny with Jade Leech. Would he truly be my fated one, had we ended up like Theseus and Ariadne?"

Be as creative and detailed as you wish, dear one. I am not here to hinder you from finding your destined end.

May the Fates be kind to you.

format is inspired by the great mage of misery, @ceruleancattail

🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @siren-serenity @dove-da-birb @shinysparklesapphires @vioisgoinginsane @shyhaya @hisui-dreamer @axvwriter @names-are-dumb @leonistic @iseethatimicy @cecilebutcher @moonlit-midnight @krenenbaker @ryker-writes @cookiesandbiscuits @minimallyminnie @xen-blank @cave-of-jade @mermaidfanficlibrary @taruruchi @thehollowwriter @edith-is-apparently-a-cat @wordycheesecake @enigmatic-pers @jaylleoo14

note: i might not write for characters i find hard to characterise correctly (i.e. pomefiore trio, jamil, leona) but i will try my best to

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

Imagine your usually quite cold or grumpy f/o coming to you for comfort. They tend to keep to themselves but something happened today that made them need support, and of course they went to you. They often don't express a lot of their emotions but today they show you it all raw and even enjoy getting a hug from you

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Main masterlist

Series Summary: Instead of navigating the galaxies, Din is navigating his new home life with Grogu on the ourskirts of Nevarro. In doing so, he meets you - a seamstress in town. The two of you form a beautiful bond through helping him adjust to domesticity in his secluded cabin. Throughout the time you share together, the bond you have flourishes into something more that can no longer be contained.

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Series Warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, yearning, simp!Din, domestic!Din, dad!Din, soft!Din, lil bit of OOC!Din, masturbation (female + male), eventual smut, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), oral (f and m receiving), reader has a birth control implant, breeding kink, spitting, fingering, Din is an ass man, possessive!Din, so much fluff, aftercare, lots of pet names, some POV switching, post-season 3, breaking the rules of the Creed, probs inaccurate star wars info, Din Djarin is referred to as Din and i’m not sorry, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, may change as I write (:

A/N: this whole idea struck while i was with my bff a while back. we were listening to “Slow Burn” by Kacey Musgraves and we both agreed that song is so Din coded so… here we are lol. i began writing domestic!Din back in October, and then i saw this STUNNING moodboard by @wildemaven and it fueled my brain rot even further! this will be divided into a few parts, and include an epilogue. i’m such a sucker for mutual pining slow burn 🫠 i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼

Divider by the lovely @saradika

Chapters

Chapter 1: Stitching Serenity

Chapter 2: Cosmically Sewn

Chapter 3: Unraveling Tapestry

Chapter 4: Moonlit Stitches

Chapter 5: Threads of Destiny

Chapter 6: Celestial Whispers

Epilogue: Etched in Stardust

[urdnotstxrm]

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Reader

AU: The Targaryen family dynamics are a blend of political intrigue and personal emotions. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the strong-willed and fiery daughter of King Viserys, is caught in a dilemma. Her father has decreed that for her to secure the Iron Throne, she must marry your brother, a match designed to solidify alliances and secure her claim. Despite this, Rhaenyra's heart belongs to you.

Continuation from here

In the guest chamber provided by your family, Rhaenyra paces restlessly. The room, though opulent, feels like a gilded cage. She can still feel the warmth of your embrace, the comfort of your presence, and it contrasts sharply with the cold reality of her situation. Her father’s decree rings in her ears, a constant reminder of the price she must pay for the throne.Rhaenyra sits by the fireplace, staring into the flames, her thoughts consumed by you. She grapples with the unfairness of it all—the love she feels for you versus the duty imposed upon her. She contemplates her options, the rebellious spark within her urging her to defy her father, to claim her own destiny. But the repercussions of such defiance weigh heavily on her mind. She fears the chaos and bloodshed that might ensue if she were to follow her heart. She thinks of you, your noble sacrifice, and it fills her with both admiration and sorrow. She knows the burden you carry, the conflict between your honor and your love for her. She wonders if there is a way to change her father’s mind, to make him see that her happiness lies not in a strategic marriage but in a union of love. As the days pass, Rhaenyra’s resolve hardens. She is a dragon, after all, and dragons are not meant to be caged. She vows to find a way to be with you, no matter the cost. For now, she clings to the hope that love will prevail, even in the face of insurmountable odds.

In the solitude of your chamber, the nights seem longer and the days, more burdensome. You sit by the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape, replaying every moment with Rhaenyra in the stables. Her words, her touch, her desperation—they haunt you. The weight of your responsibilities presses down heavily. You recall your decision to yield your right to leadership, a choice made out of duty and honor, and now it feels like a chain binding you, preventing you from following your heart. You think of your younger brother, his strengths, and the trust you placed in him. You hope he can understand the depth of your sacrifice, even if he never learns the true reason behind it. Your mind drifts to Rhaenyra’s plea, her tear-filled eyes begging for a future you cannot promise. You wonder if there could ever be a way to reconcile duty with desire, a way to find happiness without shattering the delicate balance of your world. The sound of the festivities from the great hall below echoes faintly in your chamber, a reminder of the life you are expected to lead. But your heart remains in the stables, with Rhaenyra, in that fleeting moment of shared love and sorrow.

The night was quiet and cool, the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape. Unable to sleep, you stared out of your window, thoughts of Rhaenyra filling your mind. Suddenly, you noticed a solitary figure slipping out of the house and making their way towards the river. It was Rhaenyra. Curiosity and concern took hold of you, and you quickly decided to follow her at a safe distance. You moved silently, making sure not to alert her of your presence. Rhaenyra walked with purpose, her cloak billowing slightly in the gentle breeze. She reached the riverbank and paused, glancing around to ensure she was alone. Satisfied, she stepped into the water, the moonlight reflecting off the rippling surface. You remained hidden, watching her from the shadows. She waded deeper into the lake, the water lapping around her, a serene look on her face as she sought solace in the cool embrace of the water. Your heart ached with longing, knowing she was so close yet unreachable.

As you watched from the shadows, the night air seemed to grow thicker, more charged. The sight of Rhaenyra's clothes being shed before she stepped into the lake played over and over in your mind, each piece of fabric falling away revealing her form. Your heart pounded harder, the quiet stillness of the night doing nothing to quiet the thoughts invading your mind. You tried to focus on her safety, on the purity of your concern for her well-being, but it was impossible to ignore the stirring of desire within you. The moonlight accentuated her every movement, casting a soft glow on her bare skin as she moved through the water. You imagined the feel of that skin, smooth and warm under your fingertips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. The ache of longing mixed with a deeper, more primal desire. You found yourself gripping the edge of the tree you were hiding behind, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was filled with images of her—her body, her touch, her breathless whispers in the dark.

As you watched Rhaenyra in the moonlit water, your thoughts shifted from longing to a burning sense of injustice. The idea of your brother, destined to have her, filled you with a rage that was difficult to contain. He would be the one to hold her, to be by her side, to share her life in ways you could only dream of. The thought of him touching her, loving her, and claiming her as his own made your blood boil. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to maintain your composure. It felt profoundly unfair that duty and circumstance had placed your brother in a position to be with the woman you loved. Every fiber of your being rebelled against the idea, and the jealousy and anger gnawed at your resolve. Rhaenyra, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continued to move gracefully in the water, a picture of serenity that only intensified your anguish. You wanted to be the one beside her, to be the one she turned to, the one she loved openly and freely. The knowledge that you could not change your fate or hers filled you with a helpless fury.

As you watched Rhaenyra, the vision of her in the moonlit water became too much to bear. Despite your efforts to stay composed, your body betrayed you. You felt the growing hardness in your trousers, a physical manifestation of the desire that had been gnawing at you. You glanced around once more to ensure you were alone, and your hand drifted down almost of its own accord, coming to rest on your erection. The sensation was immediate and intense, and you rubbed slowly, your mind flooded with sinful thoughts of what it would be like to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Every movement of her body in the water fueled your fantasies. You imagined her turning towards you, inviting you to join her, her lips whispering your name with desire. The thought of her hands on you, her body pressed against yours, drove you to rub yourself harder, the pleasure and the torment of it mingling in an almost unbearable way.

Each stroke brought you closer to the edge, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a groan. The need for her was overwhelming, a burning ache that seemed to consume every part of you. You knew it was wrong, that your thoughts were a betrayal of your duty and your honor, but in that moment, all you could think about was Rhaenyra and the forbidden desire that she ignited within you. Your hand moved faster, driven by the images in your mind, the sight of her bare skin, the imagined feel of her under your touch. The tension built and built, your breathing growing ragged as you approached the brink. Finally, with a stifled gasp, you reached your climax, your body shuddering with the release. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left with a profound sense of guilt and longing. The night air felt colder against your skin, and the reality of your situation came crashing back. Rhaenyra was still there, just out of reach, and you were once again left with nothing but your unfulfilled desire and the painful knowledge that she could never truly be yours.

[ezekiel-krishna]

Message From Your Future Spouse ✉️

Memories linger, whispers in the air,

Longing for that someone, always there.

- The Poet

Please remember that this reading is not personalized, so only take which resonates with you.

For Personalized Readings, Message Me

Pick a Pile

Close your eyes for a quick moment and take a deep breath in. When you open your eyes slowly, pick the one that stands out to you the most!

|| 1 > 2 > 3 ||

Pile 1

As I look up at the night sky, my dearest, I am reminded of the everlasting connection that binds us together. Much like The Star, our love radiates brightly, guiding us through life's uncertainties and lighting up our path.

When I gaze into your eyes, I witness the reflection of my dreams and ambitions, a ray of hope that guides me towards a future overflowing with love and happiness. My heart overflows with gratitude for the privilege of having you in my life, with every passing moment. Together, we face the challenges that cross our path, fully aware that our love is a wellspring of strength and resilience.

As we venture through life hand in hand, let us continue to treasure and nurture the bond that unites us, for it is a love that surpasses all barriers of time and space. Always remember that you are my guiding star, my eternal source of inspiration and solace. Countless adventures await us, and I eagerly look forward to them, knowing that with you beside me, everything is possible. Forever and always, I am yours.

Pile 2

Our connection goes beyond the boundaries of this world, as if our destinies were aligned in the cosmos. In your presence, I find solace and strength, a sanctuary where I can truly be myself. With each passing moment, our love grows deeper, like the roots of a mighty tree that withstand the test of time. We are two halves of a whole, perfectly complementing each other.

Your touch ignites a fire within me, a passion that burns brightly and never fades. Together, we navigate the ups and downs of life, hand in hand, facing challenges with unwavering faith in our love. In your embrace, I find peace and understanding, a sanctuary where I am embraced and cherished for who I am. My love for you knows no boundaries, transcending the limitations of this world. You are my rock, my confidant, my partner in all things.

With you by my side, I feel complete and ready to embrace whatever the future holds. Please know that my heart beats for you, my soul yearns for you, and my love for you will endure for all eternity. You are my everything, my one true love, and I am grateful every day to have you in my life. Together, we are bound by a love that is pure, deep, and everlasting. I love you now and forevermore.

Pile 3

Looking up at the moonlit sky, I am reminded of the mystical and captivating connection that we share. Like the ever-changing phases of the moon, our love ebbs and flows, exploring the depths of our souls with a sense of awe and enchantment. In the darkness of the night, I find comfort in knowing that you are my guiding light, illuminating the path towards our intertwined destiny. Just as the moon reflects the hidden truths and emotions within us, our bond is built on a foundation of trust and understanding.

Amidst the uncertainties and shadows, your presence shines like a beacon of hope, leading me towards a future brimming with love and endless possibilities. Your intuition and wisdom navigate me through life's twists and turns, offering solace and reassurance during moments of uncertainty. Together, we dance under the moonlight, embracing the mysteries of the universe and the depths of our hearts. Our love transcends the constraints of time and space, weaving a tapestry of dreams and desires that bind us together in a cosmic embrace.

In your eyes, I see the reflection of my soul, a mirror of love and acceptance that fills me with a profound sense of belonging and purpose. As we embark on this journey through life's phases, know that my love for you will never diminish, for you are my moon, my guiding star, my eternal companion. May our love continue to radiate brightly, like the moon in the night sky, casting its gentle glow upon our shared path. I am forever grateful for the precious gift of your love, and I eagerly anticipate a future overflowing with infinite possibilities and boundless love. With you by my side, I am whole, I am complete, I am home.

Check out my Masterlist in My Profile for More!

[xivou]

木星／ dr ratio x fem. reader < 🧷' AUG (2024) > # potential angst . not proofread . perhaps, ooc ratio ( a scholar, and his assistant ) ✷ you watch him sacrifice himself, for his thirst of knowledge.

( jupiter—my heart who was meant to be a star but failed. )

Doctor Veritas Ratio’s life was a cup that brimmed with intellect, moulded with turmoil and self-deception.

( for knowledge is a cursed orbit of orderly chaos, where its striders are all disturbed. )

And you’ve witnessed it all unfold—how the woman of destiny wove her threats into an embodiment of candidness, blessed him with unparalleled aptitude, and paved a contentious, starlit orbit to cure the ignorant.

( and that same orbit, is the orbit Nous never looks upon. he persists in treading upon it. )

And you watch, as asteroids chart their courses, the planets worship the sun, and the universe expands itself, whispering proses of it's confines— how Doctor Veritas Ratio came into being.

How each flick of his chalk, and each utterance that fell off his lips seeped confusion into his students. how applause echoes in the chamber, and he steps forward pridefully to acquire yet another doctoral degree. how his name became pronounced on the lips of all— of those who loathed him and those who acknowledged his achievements, till he made his name distinguishable among the tattered volumes of history.

‘The Genius Society is hosting a collaboration with the Intelligentsia Guild. they voted for you as a representative.’

your fingers cradle through his violet lock, whilst he lies on your lap, fixated on reading a passage from a philosophy book.

‘as long as it does not clash with my schedule.’

you nod, heavily weighting and savouring this moment; this is one of those mere hours, where he is allowed to be eclipsed from the eyes of the world and slip into your warmth. a smile tugs at your lips.

‘You know I love you, right?’ you utter those words, and they are almost like a cry, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

in people's eyes, Ratio is a star that emits a rich luminescence.

( and it saddens you how stars are doomed to dim as a lifetime frays upon it. )

but no sooner will they concede; Ratio is a no star, bound to never seize ‘deity’, and bound to remain among mundane, mediocre planets, those who live in supreme idiocy.

( “Perhaps, he realized he would never be accepted into the Genius Society...” you’ve heard that say sometime before. )

and yet you observe as he distributes bits of his radiant soul to the cosmos, a blessing coiled with a masquerade of self-assurance, and you observe as those detached geniuses confine their knowledge to themselves.

( and yet no one gets to detect that white alabaster sculpture crack; you wonder if it is ever bound to. )

Ratio chuckles, and you think it echoes with self-deprecation. His fingertips intertwine with yours, and you feel his soul through these edges—it's desperate and coiled in vacant arrogance.

‘i told you, there is no use to dawdling on this matter...’ he shuts his book, and turns towards you, pulling you closer.

his head rests at the crook of your neck, and he inhales your aroma.

‘If this day I have not gained the recognition of Nous,’ he kisses your neck. ‘it stands to reason that I never will at any point in the future.’

‘you're still my genius, you know?’ your fingertips draw little stars on his back. ‘my star...’

Akin to a moonlit sonata, a final waltz of a melancholic medley. You bestowed the radiance of your soul to myriad starless nights, where dusk settled and he would remain awake to preserve this research. You eclipsed him and taught him respite. You acknowledged he was a star, and you chose to orbit around him—a moon crafted of Saturn's rings.

──© xivou . please refrain from reposting . plagiarizing . copying . translating . without prior consent.

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter two: of blood and fire

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 6.6k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, tending to aki's wounds, but things don't all go to plan. warning: a few small mentions of blood / wounds / a knife

notes: we're in aki's perspective this time! reader & aki's relationship is off to an interesting start... hope you enjoy this one hehe. next chapter will be a bit longer and include multiple scenes!

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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Aki awakes to the sound of a crackling fireplace. 

He blinks, his eyes still tired. His blurry vision slowly begins to come back into focus. When it does, he is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in a room he doesn't recognize. Candlelit shadows dance above him. The cottage, right. Relief washes over his mind, his body, and his weary muscles, the sensation as strong and comforting as the warmth from the nearby fire. The forest was cold. Rain soaked into his bare skin, until every droplet felt like ice in his bones, bitterness in his boiling blood. But now, he is warm. Safe, at last. 

He remembers first spotting the cottage in between dense trees and pouring rain. Every step grew harder and harder to take, his legs becoming heavier by the second. By the time he reached the doorstep, he knew he was at the end of his rope. Now, his fate was no longer in his own hands. He recalls knocking on the door, seeing it open, falling, fading — 

Yeah, he needs to apologize for that. He has a lot he probably needs to say to you, actually. 

Aki listens to the fire flicker and fizzle, while he continues to idly watch the ceiling's pirouetting shadows through heavy eyelids. He's alive. His heart pounds forcefully against the caged walls of his chest, as if reminding him, taunting him. Attempting to recall the moments before he lost consciousness, his thoughts can't help but wander back to you. 

You were moonlit, the serene glow of the stars shining in your eyes and your panicked expression. Aki felt his throat go dry. His hands shook. His breath took on a tender hitch, despite the pain still splintering through him. He plays that moment over and over again in his mind, and Gods, he knows he's already messed everything up. He probably scared you. No, he definitely startled you. Arriving at a stranger's door all blood-soaked and weary, before proceeding to pass out on them doesn't make for the most positive of introductions. 

Of course, all things considered, getting off on the wrong foot with you was perhaps inevitable. He can only wonder how long it might take now, to try and get the two of you on the right foot. 

With a steady breath in, and a moment to prepare, Aki pushes himself up. Instantly, he winces, grunting in pain. The still-fresh wound on his side sends pain tearing through him like sharp, icy daggers. A heavy ache settles over his spine, then his limbs. 

He glances around; you have him resting next to a stone fireplace, on what seems to be a makeshift wooden cot. His shirt is laid out, drying by the fire. You've washed the blood from it, for the most part. When he examines himself, he sees his torso wrapped in cloth, torn and tied together to make bandages, fabric closest to his side stained a dull, dried red. 

"Don't move." 

The sound of your voice gets him to glance in your direction. With your back turned towards him, you're standing at the kitchen counter. You are preparing something, your knife chopping smoothly, echoing a firm noise each time it hits the cutting board. Aki huffs the start of a rebuttal, but you don't let him get very far. 

"I'm fine, I-"

"You risk tearing your stitches if you move," You scold, tone stern, your movements halting. Aki feels the anticipation heighten in his veins, the room briefly going silent, save for a persistent echo of rain hitting the roof. 

You glance over your shoulder to look at him, and proceed to shoot him a particularly harsh glare. "So please, lay back down." 

The intricate features of your face are just as captivating as Aki remembers. 

Slowly, without taking his eyes off you, he leans back, the cot creaking once he's settled. You breathe an annoyed-sounding sigh before returning to your work. A drizzle hums outside steadily, softer than the earlier downpour. The storm is passing, thankfully. 

Your stone pestle knocks and grinds against a wooden bowl. The fireplace crackles, calm flames flooding Aki's body with a comforting sense of heat. It casts him in gentle light, lambent sparks reflecting off his eyes, and in the smooth metal of his earrings. 

Once you've finished grinding the herbs, you unscrew the cap of a nearby flask, and you pour a generous amount of water into the bowl. Each scrap of vegetation dissolves almost immediately, leaving behind a thin mixture, colored in shades of green and muddy purple. You have the bowl held in both hands when you finally walk over to him, careful not to let anything spill. 

You kneel down beside the cot, eyeing him nervously. Your lips press together to form a taut line. Awkward seconds pass in droves, before you manage to say something at last. 

"Tilt your head up," You're instructing. You have the cadence of someone who isn't used to their own voice leaving their lungs, Aki notes. When he does so, propping himself up a bit, your free hand hesitantly shifts to rest underneath his head for support. He swears he can feel your uneasiness. 

"Drink this." 

You've let his hair down, and the long, messy strands brush your palm; they lightly tickle the back of his neck, and fall to frame his pointed ears. Orange light caresses him, flickering over old scars and freckled skin. Aki breathes deeply, his gaze locked with yours. You're so close. Close enough to make him feel as though the stars themselves are burning in his heart. 

There's fear in your eyes. The sort of fear he's come to recognize on others, countless times before. The same fear that would've taken over him when he was much younger. But there's gentleness, as well. A genuine concern, as you watch the choppy rise and fall of his chest from the corner of your eye. 

He owes you everything, and more than that, still. If it wasn't for you, he surely would have died out there. When he was running, rain pelting his back while he sprinted as fast as his weak legs could take him — fruitless, for the devils were already following his blood trail — he thought he was definitely going to. 

What a terribly awful, terribly stupid death that would be. Aki always imagined his end would come at the clawed hands of a devil. It was the fate he accepted, when he swore to hunt them. With no mercy, they will end him someday, just as they've taken his family, and each of his peers. Yet, to die there, from such a foolish mistake, to perish because he merely fumbled with his weapon when he should have been focused — In whatever afterlife he stumbled into, kind or cruel, he would never have forgiven himself. 

His mind has been wandering elsewhere quite often, as of late. From now on, he needs his focus maintained if he wants to survive. Between his troubles, his training, and his responsibilities, it's like his brain hasn't rested in weeks. And then there's this damned forest, the devils, and you. Something tells him he won't be finding his composure any time soon. 

Aki's nose wrinkles up on instinct when you bring the bowl to his lips. You tut, shaking your head. 

"It smells bad, I know," You're scoffing, "But it isn't going to taste any better. Drink it all, it'll help." 

With his eyes screwed shut, you begin to tilt the bowl back, and he forces himself to down the entirety of the mixture. It sticks to his throat, thick and unbelievably bitter; it makes him cough once he tries to breathe. He swallows dryly, allowing the taste to gradually dull. Satisfied, you rise to your feet. Empty bowl in hand, you're finally heading back towards the kitchen. 

"Demons got you good," You hum, sweeping stray scraps of herbs from the counter into your palm. Glass jars line the back edge of the counter, and you pop the lid on one, carefully brushing the corresponding traces inside. "You'll heal though, in time. Shouldn't be left with another scar, unless you keep messing with your stitches." 

Aki leans back into the cot, his messy hair fanned out around him. He runs his fingers over his torso, feeling the outline of the ragged bandages. They're wrapped tightly to protect the wound on his side. The gash underneath stings slightly when he touches it, still. 

"Thank you," He murmurs, turning his head to glance at you. His voice is low, breathy. Honest. "If you hadn't brought me in, I think I would have bled to death." 

"You definitely would have," You grumble under your breath, a bit louder than intended. You exhale a small tsk, your nails rhythmically tapping against the side of the glass jar. "You're heavy, very heavy. I had to practically drag you inside. And you talk in your sleep, too." 

Aki snorts, breathing something of a dry laugh. He props his head up, resting it on top of his arm. "What was I talking about?" 

Briefly, you hesitate. "How am I supposed to know? It was gibberish." You set the jar back into place, and carefully straighten the entire assortment. "At least I knew you were sleeping and not- you know. Dead." 

At last, you're starting to sound sure of yourself. He hardly minds your harshness; he's the one who nearly barged in, he certainly deserves to be met with a hint of vitriol. Aki finds your sudden ray of confidence to be pleasant, in fact, like standing in the shimmer of a rising sun. Perhaps he can make amends with you after all. 

"I was lucky," Aki starts. "I wasn't expecting to find anyone all the way out here. You saved my life. I don't plan on forgetting that." 

Busying yourself with cleaning your kitchen knife, you pour water onto a towel before using it to hastily polish the blade. 

"Where are you from?" You ask him, changing the subject entirely. "The city?"

He shrugs. "I suppose you could call it that." 

"The city's awfully far from here." 

"It is," Aki responds calmly. He distracts himself by watching you, his gaze flickering over your form: bathed in shadow, and touched by the slightest lamp glow. Your back is facing him again, and your shoulders are tense, wound up. Your hooded cloak has holes here and there, with the bottom edge of your cape distinctly ragged from tear marks. The deep blue color of the cape's fabric matches the makeshift bandages around his torso. 

"But you're from there," He continues, eyes narrowed, "Aren't you?" 

You pause. Just barely, he hears you take a shuddery, uncertain breath. "I've never been." 

Aki concentrates on the idle drum of raindrops — tapping against the roof, the windows, and the ground outside. Nourishing each blossoming tree, and every overgrown blade of grass. The sound is low, yet calming. 

"That's a shame," He says. "The weather in the kingdom has been so much nicer." 

Suddenly, in one smooth, quick movement, you're turning around. You're dropping the towel and the knife down on the counter with a faint clatter, and you're twisting to face him head on. Your cold glance is immediately interrogating him, flickering up, and then back down. 

"Has? So you've been there recently?" You snap, the bridge of your nose forming a disgruntled knot. Your arms cross tightly over your chest. "Thought you were an adventurer. The kind that doesn't like to stay in one place, the kind that goes out searching for treasure and jewels and monsters- that sort of thing. Why don't you explain what you were doing in the kingdom, then?" 

Aki frowns. "I was born there, if you must know." 

"Yeah, I must," You counter sharply, a brow raised. "And that still doesn't answer my question." 

Aki's teeth grit slightly when he sits up, a hint of stinging pain promptly sparking in his side. Firelight frames his face in amber hues and pockets of shadow — his expression is unreadable, but soft. Desperate, almost. If you were planning on telling him he should lay back down, the annoyed twitch in your brows is the most you let on. 

"I'm an adventurer, just not the kind you're thinking of. I'm… I'm a devil hunter. That's what the people in the kingdom call it," He explains; the ache spreading through his body leaves him a tad out of breath, and his next words are spoken between a subtle wince. "I'll venture far from the kingdom to kill them, but I also take care of anything lurking too close to the city's outskirts. I came here to practice. The devils in this forest were reported to be weaker. At least, compared to the hunts I usually go after." 

"Really?" You roll your eyes, huffing in exasperation while your arms go loose at your sides. "And I'm supposed to believe you came here to fight demons, without a weapon on you?" 

"Devils, you mean." 

"Whatever you call them." 

Aki presses a palm against his side, and matches your stern gaze with a composed one. "I had a sword. The devils disarmed me, and when they did, they all but destroyed it. I left my things behind when I ran, to make it easier to escape. Hence why I showed up empty-handed." 

You're quiet as you think, eyes glancing between him and his torso. "You're awfully terrible at coming up with excuses. Either you're a trained demon hunter, or you're an idiot who nearly lost his life to a bunch of demon-sprat. So, which is it?" 

"Devils are ruthless," He explains hastily, "They can easily overwhelm their target if they attack in numbers, and I know you're aware of that, you must be. The storm- I think it was causing them to flock together. I'm telling the truth, there's no need for this. You don't have to keep trying to intimidate me." 

"Shut up," You mutter through a scowl. Your hands have clenched into tight fists. Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is locked tight. "You already deceived me once. I'm not going to sit idly while you do it again." 

"I'm not lying. If you would just listen, please just calm down and-" 

Quickly, without tearing your fierce gaze from his, you're reaching behind you to snatch the kitchen knife. You point the sparkling, sharpened end right at him. Thunder booms, and the sky alights with sparks that fleetingly bathe the room in a blinding flash. Aki goes quiet, his heart in his throat. In the darkening afterimage, he finally sees the whole of you — A raging flame, a thorned heart. The fire in your eyes is near engulfing. Your fear runs far deeper than he ever could've known. 

He watches, as your arm trembles just barely, unease concealed behind a struggling steadfastness. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip. Your knuckles protrude from your hand, your grip on the leather hilt rigid and unacquainted. 

Aki lets go of a long, deep breath. "Put that down." 

"Give me one good reason, then." Your gaze is sharp, honed enough to cut through him all on its own. "Give me one reason why I should believe any word that comes from your filthy mouth." 

Allowing his palm to slip from his torso, he carefully puts both hands up. It seems to do little to put you at ease. 

"The knife," Aki murmurs, his gaze darting to you, then to your unsteady hand. "You don't know how to use it." 

"Would you like to put that statement to the test?" 

Aki tenses. "Devil hunter sounds far more intimidating than adventurer. I was trying not to scare you, that's all there is to it." 

"Liar," You chide, "Serpent." 

"I'll show you, if you'll let me." He speaks in a level tone, attempting to stay collected. His voice comes out quieter, his words are slow and deliberate, and he remains as still as he can possibly manage. Regardless, his chest gently rises and falls, falling in line with the relentless pound of his heart inside. Low light dances across his bare skin and faded scars. 

"Once the storm clears," Aki continues, "I'll head back out, and I'll retrace my steps to find everything I dropped in the woods. You can come with me. Hold a knife to my throat the whole time, if you must. I'll lead you right to where the devils attacked me. My sword will be there, and my bag. Devils like to snatch whatever shiny gold pieces they can get their hands on, but if there's any gold left in my bag when we find it, it's yours. How does that sound?" 

A conflicted expression dawns on your face — your brows knotted, eyes dark, lips pressed together. You stay focused on him, not yet answering. You're refusing to look away, with stress present in your form, stiff like a statue. Aki's chest aches, from something other than the wound's persistent pain. 

"I'm sorry," He apologizes, mumbling earnestly, his voice soft. "I shouldn't have- I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm just-" 

"Don't." Your next breath trembles, it is shaky, weak. The knife's silver point, aimed towards his chest, glitters with his own reflection: warm and fire-lit. "Don't make promises you can't keep." 

Through your frail gaze, locked with his, Aki can taste the bitterness on your tongue. You remind him of the wolf, and the deer. The spark to ignite the flame, and the pyre, woefully made to be burned upon. You are shrinking up, your hand shaking ever-so slightly — and he can't help but feel as though he has just taken one step forward, and a thousand steps back. 

He should feel frightened. Anyone else in his shoes would be. Truthfully, he doesn't think you'd hurt him; it's this keen intuition he's held onto, ever since he first wound up at your doorstep. And although he knew it was foolish of him to push his luck, to underestimate you, when you helped him, when you saved him, he realized he was always right. 

Just like when he found himself deep in those devil-filled woods, he's come face to face with something — someone — who he's sure could destroy him. Everything he's ever known is telling him you could do so quickly, fiercely, in a tempest of crimson blood and vivid ash. He'd be lucky if he managed to take one final breath, before the heavens came down to greet him. Or, perhaps, you'll opt to destroy him slowly. Softly, waves of built-up hopes and intentions building until they're complete, deep enough to drown him in a sea he could never escape from, because he's never quite learned how to swim. 

Fortunately, Aki isn't frightened by fate. Nor has he ever been scared by the things he really ought to be scared of. 

Silence stretches on, and so too does the hum of the rain. All at once, you break it; Aki glances at you with a little less apprehension as you turn away, clumsily tossing the knife back onto the counter. You sigh listlessly, and you rest your elbows on the surface, leaning against it. 

"This is pointless," You scoff, seeming defeated. "We're never going to get anywhere." 

Aki slowly drops his hands into his lap. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. He almost speaks a handful of times, before finally settling on something to say. 

"I've- I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" Glancing down, he doesn't meet your eyes. "For what it's worth, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I know this is my fault. I won't take advantage of your kindness or your hospitality. It wouldn't be right. Come morning, I'll leave as soon as I can." 

"No, you can't," You're suddenly arguing, turning around to face him. As he expected, your words sound sharp as ever, but your gaze on his is different, somehow. "You need to rest, for at least a few more days. Otherwise, your wound might leave lasting damage. You'll have to give up your whole demon hunting thing for good." 

"I'll be fine." Aki stretches, bringing his arms over his head, then rolling his shoulders back. He rests his palm back on his side, and he uses his free hand to push his bangs from his eyes. "I've been through worse. Besides, I think whatever you gave me is working already." 

You roll your eyes. "It's just numbing you, you fool. Please, didn't I already tell you to lay back down?" 

Aki tries not to let too much guilt show on his face. With a hand on your hip, you glare at him expectantly, until he's slowly settling back into the cot. Once he's fully lying down, you take it as your cue to snatch the flask and towel from the counter behind you; the knife is distinctly pushed away, out of your reach, and out of the realm of worry. You make your way over, kneeling down next to him. After quickly unscrewing the cap, you reach out to offer him the flask. 

"Here," You hum. You gently shake it, making the liquid inside slosh back and forth. "It's just water. Prop yourself up a bit, so you don't choke." 

Hesitant at first, Aki props up slightly on his elbow. He takes the flask from you, careful not to let your fingers brush. He only has a few small swigs, but it's plenty refreshing. It immediately relieves the dryness in his throat, and chases away the last few bitter hints of medicine. 

Once he hands the flask back to you, you're pausing, taking a moment to get a clear look at him. You focus on his face, his ruffled hair. His pointed ears, decorated with sparkling earrings. He can't help but feel his chest tighten, your gaze locking onto his. You hold his stare for merely a second or two, but your eyes; they transfix him, like they're a sanctum he should be praying to. 

Then, you're looking down, and Aki watches while you silently inspect his torso. Idly, he wonders what you might've seen to make your brows furrow, and to cause your lips to form the slightest pout. 

"You were angry enough to hold a knife to me mere moments ago," Aki murmurs, before breathing a short, light-hearted sigh. Your gaze meets his own once more, your brow raised in curiosity. "And now, you're asking me to stay." 

"Yeah, I am. Would you prefer I toss you out?" You proceed to pour a generous amount of water onto the towel. You set the flask aside, and then, you reach up, bringing the towel to his nape. "Hold still."

Aki tilts his head to the side, the water cool and damp when it touches his skin. "Not really," He answers; you dab the towel onto a small, fresh scrape just above his collarbone, and you wipe off the traces of dirt and dried blood. "Unless you think that'd be best." 

You lean over him a little, giving a quick once-over to his adjacent side and shoulder. "Your legs, let me see them." 

Aki shoves the thin blanket you'd covered him with aside. The moment it's gone, you're rolling up the legs of his trousers. You clumsily push them up to his knees, until he can feel the warmth of the fire, lapping at his bare skin. 

Both legs have a few sets of scrapes, but his knees are the worst offense. They're bruised and raw from falling, firstly after those stray devils had managed to topple him. He recalls rushing through the forest, hearing their howls from behind him as they gathered in numbers. Vision growing dizzy, he tripped over overgrown roots and rocks obscured by the darkness, just to force himself to his feet over and over again. The sight clearly displeases you, getting you to breathe an annoyed tch, and you press your damp towel to the knee closest to you. It stings, slightly. 

"I wasn't going to hurt you, just so you know," You huff, focusing on your work. "My mind was made up from the moment I brought you in. There would be no sense in going back on that now." 

"I know. But I wouldn't have blamed you," Aki remarks. "You have good reasons not to trust me." 

Those words get you to freeze, briefly. Aki eyes you, calm and straight-faced. Diligently, you apply water to a new corner of the towel, and you reach over to clean the scrapes on his other leg. 

"You're to stay right here for the next few days, and not move. Got it?" You instruct; you lean back, and he nods, pulling the legs of his pants back into place. In spite of your assuredness, you seem to falter, staring down at your hands and pondering to yourself. As if, while you think, you've momentarily forgotten he's even here. Each breath, once, and then another, you take on edge. He almost asks if you're alright — before abruptly, you return to busying yourself. 

Your towel is discarded onto the floor, as you murmur, "Sit up. Slowly, please." 

Aki pushes up all the way, straightening his back. You shift until you're able to reach his side. Your touch is gentle, and your fingertips begin to softly evaluate the bandages around his waist. 

When he fails to hold back a wince, you ask calmly, "Does the wound still hurt?" 

"A little," Aki manages. He keeps most of his weight rested on his arms, his palms pressed flat to either side of the cot. "The pain is dull, though. It isn't as strong as it was before." 

Your touch is feather-light and foreign. He isn't used to being fretted over like this; his shoulders and the back of his neck feel hot, and he can feel the delicate brush of your fingers faintly, even through the fabric. The weak ghost of your touch on his sensitive skin is enough to make his spine tingle. 

"You've got those herbs to thank for that," You remark, pulling away. "Once you're rested and healed, and only then, you'll be free to leave. I'm not sending you back out there just to be demon food. Not after I've used a month's worth of medicine on you." 

There's a small beat of silence, as you search for the cap you'd set aside, carefully screwing it back on the flask. You rise to your feet. You neatly spread the damp towel out by the side of the fireplace, next to Aki's drying shirt, like it's a task you've performed a thousand times before. He grinds his teeth together — an action you don't notice — but inevitably, he isn't able to stop himself from speaking. 

"If it's alright," He starts, waiting until you've turned back towards him to continue. "Could I ask you something?" 

Your arms cross. "Possibly." 

"Why did you help me?" Aki swallows, and he feels his jaw start to grow tense. His gaze wavers, shifting between you and his lap. "You could've turned me away, thrown me out, swore at me- You could've done anything, besides what you did. I hardly understand it." 

Expression softening, you laugh — You actually laugh, lips upturned, the corners of your eyes crinkled, and Aki fights against his own heart as it threatens to burst from his chest. 

"I wasn't aware I needed a reason," You retort, shrugging. 

"You don't need one. I was just wondering if there was one." 

"If you must know," You mumble; mocking him, he thinks, as you put on some horrible, deep impression that he can only assume is meant to be his own voice. You clear your throat after that, glancing away, quieting. You hold your own arm, and you rub it in a nervous sort of motion. "I wanted to, I suppose. End of story." 

"You- You wanted to?" 

"Of course," You're answering dryly, "What, are you saying you don't believe me? I can't save some stupid lying adventurer out of the goodness of my own heart?" 

"No, I believe you." He answers you calmly, smoothly. "That's a fine reason." 

"Is it?" You hesitate, gaze tearing away from his own to focus on the ground. Aki watches you take in a subtle, steady breath. "Sorry, I didn't expect- I'm not sure how I should explain it. I think I…" Suddenly, you sigh, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "I guess I've seen too much death to just… let you die." 

I've seen too much death to let you die. 

Oh. Aki stalls, the sound of his own heartbeat and the echo of steady raindrops working in tandem to play a tune in his ears. Your previous lightheartedness dissolves with the room's building silence, and with those words. They remind him of himself. You remind him of himself — Scared and alone, a herald of death, despite all your efforts to wash its stench from your skin. And Aki, he has been followed by so, so much death. 

It's impossible to know exactly what you're burdened with, but he knows what that sort of weight feels like. Death is a heavy thing. The tolls of both people and devils alike have long since sunk into him with fangs bared. Necessary evils, his colleagues would say: the men who trained him, the men who died beside him. To meet your end protecting this land is an honor, to slaughter devils is an accomplishment. By now, blood and death and slaughter are practically burned into his palms and the back of his eyelids. Grasping the hilt of his sword feels as natural as breathing. He can't remember the last time he dreamt of anything pleasant. 

In the quietness to follow, Aki tries to picture himself in your place. How much have you lost, to make you so distrusting? How strong and how good is your heart, to still have offered him a safe place to land? Sure, if you were dying, bleeding out, the sight filling his lungs with embers, his head enveloped in the scent of blood and petrichor — Even if you needed him, he shouldn't be saving you. Saving you would go against everything. But he would. In much the same way, he wouldn't let you die. And he knows he wouldn't hesitate. 

When it was all said and done, his path at your side would have led in the same direction. Perhaps because it was meant to. Perhaps, if he defies everything, he can keep that path on its course, and he can deserve your efforts to save him. 

Realizing you've opened up a little more than you would have liked to, or maybe discerning that you've been standing there gawking at the puzzled, wide-eyed look on his face for far too long — Abruptly, you stand up straight, righting yourself. You stride over to him, taking quick, certain steps. Aki can't help but tense when you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Your eyes narrow, your glance traveling over him with quiet contemplation. 

"And if we don't want you to die," You start; you're standing up again, with liveliness finally returning to your tone. A faux liveliness, maybe. "You need more medicine. I'm fresh out, so I'll need to gather more if you're to fully recover. Damn," You study him, your hand coming to your chin. "Bandages, too. I almost forgot. I'll need to substitute them- Leaves? No, I'm sure there's some clothes I don't need somewhere…" 

Aki's brow raises once you start to trail off. "Are you sure I should stay?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am, I already told you." 

Leaving it at that, you head back to the kitchen, taking care of the last few steps needed to clean up. While you're busy, he decides to have a proper look around for the first time since he awoke. 

The cottage is small, but well lived-in. There's a bowl of chopped fruit, and a vase of fresh flowers sitting atop a rickety-looking dining table. Asters: flowers with purple petals, and a bright yellow center. A few candles line the table and the kitchen counter, flickering with light and dripping with wax. The shelves in the living room are filled with dusty books and interesting nick nacks. He recognizes various creatures hand-carved in wood: a bird, a Great Elk, a kelpie. You've carved lots of birds, actually. You have a whole shelf dedicated to them, large and small and mystical alike. 

A book is left sprawled open over the arm of a wooden rocking chair. As if whoever was reading it needed to mark their page in a spur of the moment, and they'd left it there, planning to return to it shortly. 

Aki recognizes the cover; a knight, with armor and a shining sword, holding the blade up to a painted sun. The Holy Knight, the story is called, if Aki remembers correctly. Some tale about a knight rescuing a princess, saving the land from a curse, and marrying her to become the king — awfully traditional, for a fairytale. 

Not that he minds. Books rarely interested him when he was a kid, but his brother loved those sorts of stories. Aki would read them to him, when their parents were away. Have you read this one as many times as he has, he wonders? 

"You're sure I'm not- ehem," Aki clears his throat, turning his attention back towards you. "Overstepping? Feels like I'm intruding on your home." 

Your response is quick, sharp, and immediate. "This isn't my home." 

"Really?" Aki questions innocently. 

You freeze up for a moment, before returning to washing the bowl in your hands, scrubbing the inside with a tattered rag. "I mean- for now, it is. This place was abandoned by the time I got here, I'm only passing through. I'll be leaving once I'm done gathering what I can from the forest. The demons are becoming too much lately." 

Immersed in thought, he can't help but restlessly chew on his bottom lip. He won't press you, it'd be best not to. Although, the current plan he's thought of isn't exactly the smartest of choices, either. 

Damn it all. 

"I understand," Aki hums. He brings a palm to the back of his neck, nervously running his fingers over a mismatch of scars there. "We should leave together, then." 

Immediately, you turn around on your heels, your cape fluttering, and give him your most agitated glare yet. "Why are you so insistent on dying?" 

"I didn't mean 'leave right now,'" Aki corrects, matter-of-fact. "We can head for the kingdom once I'm healed, and once you've taken care of everything you need to do here, however long that might take. I can keep myself busy. You said you've never been, right? I know the way, I can take you." 

You scoff, shifting your weight from heel to heel, "They aren't letting anyone in unless you come with a letter of admission. It's been that way for years now." 

"I grew up there. I know how to get you in," Aki replies. Firelight dances in his eyes when you catch them: blue hues, warm and earnest, sparkling like sapphires. Such riches have always been out of your reach, until now. "I can show you around too, if you'd like. It'll be to repay you. For everything you've done for me." 

"I don't have any interest in going to the kingdom." 

"Why not?" Aki shrugs, tilting his head. His pointed ears give the slightest curious twitch. "It isn't as bad as you might think. If you'd let me talk to you about it, maybe I could end up convincing you." 

"You'd sooner convince me to toss myself to the demons." You half-roll your eyes, leaning against the edge of the counter. You turn to watch the dying rain pelt the dining room window: cascading droplets on colorful stained glass. 

"Either way," You're continuing, "I have plans. There's somewhere else I need to be, somewhere far away from here- Close to the north mountains, that's where my hometown is. The kingdom is in the exact opposite direction, if you recall." 

"That's fine," Aki pivots, after a slight pause. He follows the line of your gaze, trying to discern what you're looking at. Droplets race on the window, before disappearing once they've chased each other too far. "You're still welcome to leave when I do. It'll be safer that way, traveling out of the forest together. As long as you're alright with that, of course. By then, I'm sure I'll be fine enough to head out alone. I want you to be safe. But I don't want you to… feel like you have to listen to me. Or something like that." 

He feels like a damn fool, stumbling over his sentences as if he's got no clue what he's trying to say. Aki's jaw tenses, but thankfully, you don't seem very fazed. 

"Let's just figure it out later," You huff, "Alright?" 

Aki eyes you, up and down. You stand in place, your arms crossed, tapping your foot. Finally, you quit leaning on the counter, standing up straight, and you approach the dining room table. He watches as you reach up, deftly untying your cape and pulling it from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a wooden dining chair. 

"I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" Aki starts; you stare at him from the corner of your eye, and you're moving in his direction while he's continuing. "You can call me Aki. I'm glad to be acquainted." 

He has his hand extended for you to shake by the time you're stopping in front of him. Though, instead, you give him a once over, before immediately striding to the nearby fireplace. Aki awkwardly lowers his hand into his lap, and you proceed to grab a log, tossing it into the fire, where it becomes swiftly accepted by the flames. 

Aki clears his throat. "Could I know your name, as well? I'd like to know who I have to thank for saving my life." 

You dust your hands. Without giving him a passing glance, you head towards a door on the room's opposite end. The wood is engraved with an intricate design: twin birds, and blossoming flowers. 

"I'm going to bed," You tell him, and Aki stares at your back and tensed shoulders, somewhat dumbfounded. You turn the doorknob slowly, allowing the door to open with a creak. It's far too dark to make out anything inside, besides the light of the moon, shining onto some shelves from a small set of windows. 

Tone unreadable, you spare him one last look from over your shoulder. "I'll be waking up at sunrise to gather herbs for your medicine. I'll try not to wake you when I do. If you're hungry, I chopped some apples for you earlier. They're on the dining table. I suggest you get some rest, you won't regain your strength without it." 

He still doesn't know your name. He still doesn't have your trust — but that's alright. The kingdom is days away, isn't it? And besides, if anyone followed his trail, he doubts they'd be able to find what they're looking for. This cottage is well-hidden. Nearly too hidden for him to find, actually. As long as he's here with you, treading this line, there's time. Plenty and plenty of time. 

The Gods can watch, as he defies everything his wretched people once prayed for, once sought to destroy, while letting himself get swept under. 

"Goodnight," Aki murmurs, before you can finish closing the bedroom door behind you. "Sleep well." 

The fire crackles. Rain taps against the roof in fading whispers, and Aki watches your door shut with an inferno in his heart. 

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes, seer!Mirko, blood

Summary: the Earl sought counsel from the seer, seeking guidance after Shoto's proposition to send him and Touya on a mission to the north. Concerned about the rumors surrounding the mission, you resolved to extract information directly from Shoto

Word count: circa 6.5k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT III - SEEKING ANSWERS

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the rugged hills as earl Endeavor rode toward the dwelling of the renowned seer, Mirko. His thoughts were consumed by the intriguing proposition his youngest son, Shoto, had presented regarding a land rich in goods. The idea of sending his eldest son, Touya, to oversee this promising territory crossed the earl's mind, a strategic move that could secure his settlement's prosperity.

Upon reaching Mirko's abode, the atmosphere seemed to change. The air grew thick with an otherworldly aura, and the eerie silence made the settlement's seer even more intimidating. Mirko was a young woman with a fearsome reputation, her presence alone sending shivers down the spines of those who sought her guidance. Mirko was not beautiful in the conventional sense; her appearance held an unsettling allure. Long, wild locks framed her face, and her eyes, intense and piercing, seemed to hold secrets of both past and future. Tribal markings adorned her skin, marking her as a conduit to the spiritual realm.

Earl Endeavor, a man hardened by battles and strategic decisions, felt a twinge of uncertainty as he approached the seer.

Mirko's dwelling, draped in dark fabrics and adorned with symbols, exuded an aura of mysticism. She welcomed him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "My lord," she spoke, her voice a haunting melody, "what brings you to seek the guidance of the unseen?"

Endeavor hesitated momentarily before speaking. "I come seeking counsel, Mirko. My youngest son has spoken of a land rich in goods. I contemplate sending my eldest, Dabi, to oversee it. What do you foresee in the tapestry of fate?"

Mirko, seated in the midst of her mystical domain, gestured for Endeavor to sit.

Endeavor unfolded his plan, explaining the potential prosperity and influence this land could bring. "I intend to send Dabi to ensure our dominance over this territory. What do your visions reveal?"

The air thickened with an unspoken power, and her haunting hums echoed through the room. The earl observed, a sense of unease settling over him as he witnessed the seer's transformation.

Her eyes closed, Mirko began to sway rhythmically, her body guided by an unseen force. The haunting melody of her hums intensified, creating an otherworldly atmosphere within the sacred space.

Endeavor found himself being on the precipice of something beyond his understanding.

Her voice carried a spectral melody, and the room seemed to pulse with an unseen heartbeat. Mirko's eyes, still closed, painted visions of impending doom with her words.

"In darkness veiled, the land awaits, Echoes of sorrow, at destiny's gates. A wolf, fierce, prowls in the night, A dance with death, a sinister delight."

The seer's hands moved gracefully through the air, as if conducting an unseen symphony of fate. Her words painted vivid images of a land consumed by shadows and the imminent clash between two primal forces.

"An eagle, majestic and bold, Descends from heights, its destiny foretold. A battle fierce, 'neath the moonlit gleam, In shadows cast, where spirits teem."

The eagle and wolf, symbols of opposing forces, danced in the tapestry of Mirko's vision. The room echoed with the weight of her words, each rhyme a forewarning etched in the annals of fate.

"Blood on feathers, and darkness entwined, A struggle unfolds, destinies aligned. In the land cursed, where choices are made, The echo of battle, in shadows will fade."

"What does it mean?!" The earl growled loudly. "Tell me, now!"

As Mirko's body moved, a voice emerged from her lips, yet it seemed detached, as if another entity spoke through her. The words, laden with an eerie resonance, foretold a grim fate awaiting those who ventured into the land Shoto had spoken of. "The path you tread is bathed in blood, earl Endeavor. Death dances upon the horizon, and shadows darker than the night itself await those who dare to grasp the threads of destiny."

Endeavor felt a chill coursing through him. Mirko's words seemed like a macabre prophecy, a dire warning wrapped in a melody that resonated with the spirits of the unseen.

"Blood will stain the soil, and death will be the echo that reverberates through the ages. The spirits speak of a land cursed by the choices of the living," Mirko continued, her voice carrying the weight of the ethereal.

Endeavor, despite his stoic exterior, couldn't shake the disquiet settling in his chest. Mirko, in her trance, spoke as if guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The grim portrait she painted clashed with the earl's visions of conquest and prosperity.

As Mirko's humming reached a haunting crescendo, she opened her eyes, the once vacant gaze now piercing through the fabric of fate. The trance lifted, leaving the seer standing before Endeavor, a conduit between the living and the unseen.

"The spirits have spoken, my lord. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and the choices you make will echo through the very essence of time," Mirko uttered, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken decree from the spirits themselves.

Endeavor leaned forward, his expression stern. "Speak plainly, Mirko."

Mirko's voice carried a weight beyond the present. "The flames may consume not only the intended but all who stand too close. Choices shape destinies," the woman replied mysteriously.

Endeavor emerged from Mirko's dimly lit hut, the weight of her prophecy hanging in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. The pale light of the moon bathed the settlement nearby in an eerie glow as the earl took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Silence enveloped him, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Endeavor closed his eyes, reflecting on the words Mirko had spoken. Despite the foreboding visions, a resolute determination burned within him. He knew the risks, but the allure of wealth and power beckoned him forward.

Turning to Mirko, he offered a nod of gratitude. "Thank you for your insights, Mirko. May the spirits guide us through the shadows." As a token of appreciation, Endeavor gently took Mirko's palm in his hands and pressed a grateful kiss upon it.

The seer's eyes, still veiled in the mystery of her visions, met his with a knowing gaze.

Mounting his horse, Endeavor set forth, determined to confront the future that awaited him. The night held its breath as Endeavor rode back to the settlement, a lone figure against the canvas of the darkened landscape. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the ember of ambition burned brightly within him, lighting the path toward the destiny he sought.

Dabi sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, his presence almost like a shadow against the flickering candlelight. The rhythmic sound of a whetstone against his sword filled the air, a comforting repetition that matched the beat of his troubled thoughts.

The raucous atmosphere of the tavern buzzed around him, but the glances thrown his way were not ones of admiration or desire. The courtesans, usually attentive to potential patrons, seemed to cast him disgusted looks. Even though he was the heir to the earldom, the one who would sit on the throne after his father's eventual passing, they all were disgusted by him. His status brought him no favors in this realm of longing and fleeting connections.

Dabi's eyes occasionally flickered across the room, catching those disdainful glares. He couldn't deny the sharp pang in his chest — a mix of frustration and a longing for a connection he had been denied for so long. He had grown accustomed to rejection, so much so that he had stopped actively seeking companionship. Still, the yearning for the warmth and softness of a woman's touch lingered, a desire he had learned to bury deep within.

As he took a swig of ale, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the bitterness that had settled in his heart. Dabi continued to polish his sword, the repetitive motion a way to distract himself from the disapproving looks that haunted him. In the midst of the crowded tavern, he remained a solitary figure, surrounded by people but untouched by the warmth of human connection.

The loud thud echoed through the quiet walls of the Great Hall, jolting you awake from your shallow slumber. Concern etched across your face as you rushed out of the room you shared with Hilda, following the source of the commotion. The dimly lit corridor led you to Dabi's chamber, where you found him struggling to regain his balance, a victim of the ale's intoxicating effects.

"Easy there," you said, your voice soft but laced with genuine concern. "Need a hand?"

Dabi looked up at you, his turquoise eyes momentarily clouded with confusion before recognition set in. He grunted in agreement, accepting your offered help. Together, you steadied him, and he leaned against the wall for support. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on both of you, creating an unexpected intimacy in that late-night encounter.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his usual aloofness momentarily giving way to a hint of vulnerability. The moment was fleeting, but it lingered in the air as you helped him back into his chamber.

You assisted Touya onto his bed. The warmth of the hearth seemed to soften the edges of the usually stern and enigmatic man. However, as you turned to leave, his hand shot out, gently grasping your wrist. When you met his eyes, you were met with a vulnerability that seemed to pierce through his usual façade.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

You hesitated. The rules that governed your roles in this Viking settlement were clear, and getting too close to someone of higher standing could invite trouble. Yet, the sadness in his eyes and the unspoken plea tugged at your empathy.

"I… I shouldn't," you started, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Please," he whispered, his tone a mixture of loneliness and longing.

In that moment, you found it difficult to resist. Against your better judgment, you stayed, settling on a bed beside him. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Touya's eyes never left yours.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon you and Touya in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

With a hesitant yet genuine smile, Touya broke the silence. "Tell me about your homeland," he requested, his eyes showing a glimmer of curiosity.

His request hung in the air like a delicate thread, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh before responding. "You want to hear about the place you tore me away from? Like a flower ripped out of the life-giving soil?" Your words held a weight, a mix of resentment and sorrow.

Touya met your gaze, his expression carrying the burden of understanding the pain he had caused. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

In the flickering glow of the fire, you began to weave a tale of your homeland. Your words painted a vivid picture of quaint cottages with thatched roofs, their walls weathered by the salty breeze that swept in from the sea. The narrow cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing and the rhythmic sounds of craftsmen honing their skills. "Near the shore, where the cliffs stood tall and proud, we built a small chapel—a haven of solace and prayer. Its stone walls echoed with hymns, and the air was filled with the scent of incense," you recounted, your voice carrying the nostalgia of a place left behind.

As you spoke, Touya's piercing eyes remained fixed on you, absorbing every detail of this distant world he never truly understood. The contrast between the harsh Viking settlements and the idyllic Christian village seemed stark.

"The coastline, painted in hues of blue and gray, witnessed the ebb and flow of tides. Fishing boats set sail at dawn, their sails billowing in the morning breeze, while the cliffs provided a vantage point for the villagers to gaze upon the vast horizon," you continued.

Touya's features softened as he envisioned the serene landscape you described, a world far removed from the tumultuous life he had known. Touya's eyes closed, a faint smile gracing his lips as he absorbed the essence of your words. "You must have been missing the place ever since," he pointed out, the words carrying a gentle understanding of the yearning that comes with reminiscing about a home left behind.

You nodded quietly, the flames of a fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "Indeed. The memories are like whispers of a distant melody, a reminder of a life that once was. I can almost feel the salt-laden wind against my face, hear the distant hymns in the chapel. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home."

Touya's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression, as the echoes of your quiet sobbing reached his ears. He opened his eyes, and there he found you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

His heart constricted with an unexpected ache. A flicker of empathy illuminated his usually guarded gaze.

"But it is all gone. All gone. You and your people took everything from me. And now I'm here, locked in a cage of a shadow of something once called life. Apparently, this was God's plan for me," your voice carried a weight of bitterness and sorrow.

His gaze softened as he watched you, the firelight casting shadows on your tear-streaked face. "Gods have their own way of weaving destinies, entangling lives in threads that stretch across time and space. Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a reason our paths crossed in this tumultuous journey."

You gave Touya a searching look, the flickering firelight dancing in your eyes, and asked, "What do you mean? Why would the God bring me here, to this… place of captivity?"

Touya looked at you with a glint of intensity in his eyes. "Our gods are different, you know. Freya, Odin, they're not like your Christian God. They're not confined to a single doctrine. They're free, just like the wind that sweeps through these icy lands. And I believe, with all my heart, that the Allfather sent me to your village for a reason, and that reason was you."

You couldn't help but snort at his words. "You're drunk, Touya. Those gods of yours aren't guiding anything. I'm here because of the whims of men, not gods."

Touya locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotions. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You're beautiful."

His breath sent shivers down your spine, and before you could fully comprehend his words, his lips boldly found yours. Shock coursed through you at the unexpected kiss, your first taste of such intimacy. The heavy scent of alcohol lingered on his tongue, but amidst the surprise, you felt a strange warmth. You hesitated at first, unsure of how to respond, but the gravity of the moment pulled you in.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself brushing your lips against his, a hesitant exploration of uncharted territory. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, bearing witness to a connection that transcended the roles you were assigned in this harsh world.

The following day, Endeavor summoned Dabi to his side, his face stern and determined. The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken gravity as Dabi approached his father. "Touya," Endeavor began, his voice cutting through the silence, "I have a mission for you."

Dabi's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of mission?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Endeavor.

Endeavor's eyes bore into his son's, revealing a mix of authority and expectation. "You, Shoto, and a selected group of warriors, including Hawks, will be sent to the northern part of Sweden. There's a land there with potential, rich in resources. It's time to expand our influence, and you're crucial to this endeavor."

Dabi nodded, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead. The mention of Shoto and Hawks in the same mission stirred a sense of unease, but he kept his emotions in check. "Understood," he replied, his tone resolute.

Endeavor continued to lay out the details of the mission, his plans unfolding as a complex web of politics, power, and strategy.

Little did Dabi know that this journey would lead to unforeseen challenges, testing not only his strength as a warrior but also the bonds that held his family together.

Hilda approached you with a furrowed brow, a concerned expression etched across her features. The flickering light of the torches in the chamber cast shadows that danced upon the walls as she spoke. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," she said in a hushed tone.

You looked up, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "What is it, Hilda?" you asked, your eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

She took a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "I think I just need a listening ear. Touya is going on another mission. But what worries me more is that Shoto, his younger brother, is being sent alongside him."

You furrowed your brows, recognizing the tension between the two brothers. "Isn't that a cause for concern? They don't exactly get along, do they?"

Hilda nodded solemnly. "No, they don't. The earl's decision to send them together is raising suspicions. It's a risky move, and I fear it might not bode well for the stability of the mission."

Concern etched across your face as you contemplated the potential consequences of such a decision. The dynamics between the two brothers were already strained, and sending them on a mission together seemed like a recipe for conflict. Hilda's worry mirrored your own, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on both your minds.

You finished brushing your hair, the strands flowing smoothly through the comb. The flickering candlelight in your chamber created a soft ambiance, but your thoughts were far from the present moment. Hilda's words echoed in your mind, and the worry for Touya settled like a heavy stone in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Hilda, who was quietly arranging some furs in a corner of the room. "Hilda," you began hesitantly, "is there really nothing we can do for Touya? I can't shake off this feeling of unease."

Hilda paused, her gaze meeting yours. The lines on her face spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Y/N, sometimes the currents of fate are beyond our control. All we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. Right now, the best course is to stay vigilant and hope for the best."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The unpredictable nature of the situation left you feeling powerless, and it frustrated you. "But what if something happens to him? What if Shoto…"

Hilda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can't predict the future, dear. All we can do is be prepared for whatever comes our way. Keep an eye on the situation, and if there's an opportunity to help, we'll take it. For now, focus on your tasks and be vigilant."

You sighed, acknowledging the wisdom in her advice.

Hilda observed you with a shrewd gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. As you finished your nightly routine and settled onto the furs, she couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in her mind. "Y/N," the woman began, her voice gentle yet probing, "forgive me if I overstep, but your interactions with Touya have been minimal. Why this sudden concern for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your words carefully. The truth was, your initial reservations about Dabi were not baseless, but something about Touya's vulnerability had stirred a different emotion within you. You looked at Hilda, deciding to share a part of your thoughts. "I may not like him, but I can't shake off the feeling that there's more to Touya than what meets the eye. The way he spoke about his past, about losing everything, it resonated with me. It's not pity, Hilda, but a sense of understanding, maybe empathy. And now, knowing he's going on this dangerous mission alongside Shoto, it's hard to ignore the worry."

Hilda's smirk widened as she spoke, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear, I can see your cheeks flushing when you speak about him so fondly. You're having a crush, am I right?"

Hilda's smirk didn't go unnoticed, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Her teasing words struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation danced in your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hilda. It's just concern for a fellow human being," you retorted, your tone defensive.

Hilda chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Concern, my dear, often wears a different face. There's no shame in admitting you care for him. After all, this world is full of unexpected twists, isn't it?"

You pursed your lips, attempting to maintain composure. Deep down, you knew there was a kernel of truth in Hilda's words. The concern for Touya had indeed taken a different form, and your heart acknowledged a connection that transcended mere worry. Yet, admitting it to yourself felt like navigating uncharted waters.

Ignoring Hilda's knowing gaze, you turned away, feigning disinterest. But within, a storm of conflicting emotions raged, and you couldn't deny the impact Touya had made on your guarded heart.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in your simple bed, a peculiar yet potentially useful idea began to form in your mind. The notion of extracting information from Shoto about his plans took root, and you found yourself contemplating the details of how to execute this risky but potentially advantageous scheme.

The flickering light of the dim chamber barely illuminated your face as you hatched a plan to subtly and strategically approach Shoto. The urgency of the situation and the looming mission compelled you to consider taking matters into your own hands, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of deceit. With a determined resolve, you prepared yourself mentally for the intricate dance of conversation that lay ahead.

In your best dress, adorned with the finest that could be salvaged among the thralls, you made your way to the tavern after learning from Natsuo that Shoto was seen going out with a warrior named Hawks. As you stepped out, the cool breeze of the late afternoon caressed your face, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

Arriving at the tavern, you could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking mugs seeping through the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, revealing the warm, dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the low hum of conversations. You scanned the room, finally spotting Shoto and Hawks in a corner, engaged in a conversation.

Shoto's two-colored hair caught the wavering light as he raised his tankard in a toast. "To power and the thrill of the hunt," he declared with a smirk, taking a long swig.

Hawks leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

The duo seemed engrossed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the low hum of the tavern. Female thralls, drawn by their presence, attempted to engage in conversation, but the exchanges were marked by a darkness that hinted at their underlying intentions. Shoto and Hawks were having fun in the company of two thralls with exotic features that hinted at a southern origin. The air was charged with an unmistakable tension as the men engaged in flirtatious banter.

One of the thralls, feigning coyness, asked, "What brings you to our humble company tonight?"

Shoto, with a sly grin, leaned in to the thrall seated by his side, and said, "Oh, just the usual – seeking a bit of warmth in this frigid place. Perhaps you ladies could provide some, hmmm?" He mused, running his hand up and down the girl's shoulder.

The other thrall, playing along, responded, "Warmth, you say? Well, you might need to work hard to earn that from us."

Shoto frowned a little, yet his voice stayed low and smooth, "You seem to be unaware of my position, woman. I am the heir to earl Endeavor, and I demand that you address me with the respect befitting my status," he forcefully grabbed the other woman by her shoulder, causing her to tumble off her chair and land on the floor next to him. "So, I suggest you watch your manners, for I am the best you can find in this establishment. Consider your words carefully before opening that foolish mouth of yours next time."

Hawks nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the gentleman here is right. Shoto, don't scare the lady."

The conversations continued in this bold and wry manner, each word dripping with innuendo as the men skillfully navigated the delicate dance of desire. The atmosphere in the tavern buzzed with anticipation as the thralls played their part in the seductive exchange, the one that previously ended on the floor now sat quietly, letting Hawks wrap his strong arms around her shoulders as his hand was playing with her breasts from time to time.

Summoning your courage, you approached them, the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. As you drew nearer, you caught Shoto's eye, and a subtle smirk crept onto his face. Hawks, on the other hand, eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The atmosphere shifted as you prepared to enter a world of alliances and secrets, uncertain of what the outcome might be.

"Well, well, what brings you to this den of sin all alone? Where's your precious Touya? Couldn't keep up with his demands?" the youngest Endeavorson taunted, his tone laced with amusement.

You brushed off his wry remark. "I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet. Our relationship didn't start on the best note, and I believe we can find a way to coexist peacefully."

He looked at you, seemingly surprised by your suggestion. Shoto considered your words, and after a moment, he offered you a seat with them.

Throughout the interaction, Hawks observed the scene. You gave him a brief smile, trying to maintain a cool demeanor in the company of the two men.

Shoto turned to you with an air of faux politeness, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe we can have a civilized conversation, don't you?" His eyes darted towards the thrall who had been seated beside him, and with a dismissive gesture, he uttered, "You, leave us."

The thrall shot you a cold glance before complying with Shoto's request and vacating the space.

Now alone, Shoto leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "There, much better. Now, let's chat, shall we?"

You took a deep breath before speaking, "I must admit, despite the fear you instill within me, there's a certain charisma about you. It's hard not to notice."

Shoto's grin widened, appreciating the acknowledgment. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. And by the way, I quite like your accent. It adds a certain charm." His compliment was laced with a hint of mischief as he reached his hand out to briefly rub your shoulder.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Shoto's hand landed on your shoulder. Suppressing a wince, you decided to play along with his casual demeanor. When he asked about the real reason for your visit, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, I just wanted to get to know you a little better, my lord."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, considering your words. "Interesting choice of words. Here, have some mead." He poured some into a wooden mug and handed it to you, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You accepted, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

Hawks, with a twinkle in his golden eyes, couldn't help but comment, "Quite a beauty you have here, Shoto. Earl Endeavor's thralls are indeed a treasure."

Shoto, taking a sip of his mead, glanced at you and replied wryly, "All Christian women have this softness within them. I just happen to enjoy breaking it." His words were delivered with a certain darkness that sent a chill down your spine.

Trying to maintain composure, you played along, responding with a forced smile, as you looked at Shoto's companion, "Well, thank you for the compliment, sir."

As Shoto continued to drink, you couldn't shake off the unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As more mugs of mead were emptied by the men and the atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at your thoughts. Leaning in, you addressed Shoto, "Forgive me for intruding, but I overheard that you and Touya are going on a mission. Is it true?"

Shoto's eyes, a mix of icy determination and something unreadable, met yours. He took a moment, swirling the remnants of his mead in his mug before responding, "Yes, a mission to the north. Father believes it's a land rich in resources, and he wants us to secure it for the settlement."

Hawks, who had been listening attentively, chimed in, "Aye, a mission of great importance. The north can be treacherous, though. Many dangers await those who venture into the unknown."

You nodded, though a lingering concern for Touya flickered in your eyes. "What kind of dangers are you talking about? Is it just the harsh conditions of the north, or is there something else we should be aware of?"

Shoto's stoic expression betrayed little, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of the mission and what it might mean for both brothers.

Hawks took a sip from his mead, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and wariness. "The north is a wild place, full of untamed landscapes and creatures. Wolves, bears, and more roam freely. Not to mention, the weather can be brutal, especially this time of year."

Shoto's gaze never wavered as he observed your reaction to Hawks' nonchalant explanation.

You sensed there might be more to the story, but both men remained guarded in their responses.

Shoto's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, his hand landing on your knee with an unexpected boldness. He began to rub your knee casually, his gaze steady as he threw a question your way. "Let's change the topic, my dear. The ruggedness of our upcoming mission might be a bit too much for a delicate female mind like yours to comprehend," he remarked, his fingers tracing small circles on your knee, playing with the hems of your dress. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, his tone low and almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, has my older brother had his way with you yet?"

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance at his audacity, but you tried to maintain composure. "That's none of your business, Shoto," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And the mission—"

"Oh, don't play coy," he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm genuinely curious. After all, I'd hate for you to miss out on experiencing the full range of pleasures in our little settlement."

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself navigating the conversation with a mix of caution and defiance, unsure of where Shoto was leading with his intrusive inquiries.

You met Shoto's audacious question with a bold response. "No, my lord, I haven't been with anyone, ever," you asserted, trying to maintain a sense of control in the conversation.

Hawks chimed in with a cryptic comment, "Well, isn't that a rare treasure in these parts. A thrall with untouched cunny, how intriguing."

You shot a wary glance at Hawks, uncertain about the implications of his words.

Shoto, however, seemed more amused than surprised, his smirk widening as if he had expected such a revelation. "You're missing out on experiences, thrall. I could show you what it's like. I doubt my older brother knows how to please a woman. Look at him, covered in scars, a truly disgusting sight. No normal woman would willingly lie with such a damaged man."

You felt Shoto's hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, making your breath catch in your throat. His audacious suggestion hung in the air, and the atmosphere became charged with tension.

You pulled away, a mix of surprise and discomfort evident on your face. "Maybe… Nut I didn't have enough mead yet, my lord," you asserted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

Shoto, undeterred, leaned in with a sly grin. "Afraid of a little adventure? I promise you, it'll be an experience you won't forget," he whispered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

As Shoto poured another mug of mead for you, you discreetly took small sips, ensuring that the majority of the liquid found its way into Hawks' cup while the two men were engrossed in conversation. The effects of the mead were beginning to show on Shoto, but you remained clear-headed.

The conversation in the tavern continued, filled with laughter and raucous chatter. You observed Shoto's growing inebriation and wondered if this was the opportune moment to extract information about the mission.

As Shoto, in a visibly inebriated state, decided to make his way back to the Great Hall, Hawks was more than willing to accompany him. However, seizing the opportunity to gather more information, you stepped forward and offered to walk Shoto back on his behalf. Hawks, busy with the two other thralls he managed to lure, readily agreed.

With Shoto leaning on you for support, you began the journey back to the Great Hall. The night air was crisp, and the sound of distant revelry echoed through the settlement. As you walked, you subtly steered the conversation toward the mission, aiming to extract any valuable details Shoto might unwittingly reveal in his inebriated state. As Shoto stumbled beside you, you ventured to ask, "Shoto, why do you harbor such resentment toward Touya? It seems like there's a lot of tension between you two."

Shoto's response was punctuated by occasional hiccups, and he spoke with a slurred cadence, "Touya… he's always been the favorite. Father sees him as the rightful heir, even after he attempted on killing him… When he was a baby… I'm just… the spare. I've had to fight for every scrap of approval, every shred of acknowledgment. It's fucking infuriating."

His words were tinged with a mix of bitterness and vulnerability, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of their strained relationship.

Shoto's alcohol-laden breath hung in the night air as he delved deeper into the caverns of his animosity. His words spilled out, laced with venom and a fervent desire for retribution. "You see, Y/N… Touya has always been the golden child… Father dotes on him, oblivious to the struggles I faced. I fought tooth and nail, but in his eyes, I'm still the disappointment." His voice resonated with a toxic blend of envy and resentment. "I wish he'd disappear, fade away… It would be so much easier without him overshadowing me at every turn… Fucking Touya. Father might finally see my worth."

As he spoke, you couldn't help but sense the profound wounds that fueled Shoto's disdain for his older brother, wondering if there was any way to mend the frayed bonds between them.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the huge, wooden door to the Great Hall. In the dimly lit hallway, you guided Shoto with careful steps, avoiding any unnecessary noise. As you reached his chamber, the weight of your question hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "My lord… Do you plan to harm your older brother during this mission?"

He paused, his drunken demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a serious glint in his eyes. "Hurt him? No. But if fate has other plans for him, who am I to intervene?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if Shoto's words held any truth or if they were merely intoxicated ramblings. As you opened the door and let go of his waist, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that there was more beneath the surface of his seemingly casual response. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, adding an enigmatic air to the entire exchange.

The sudden force of Shoto's grip on your waist surprised you, and before you could react, his lips collided with yours in a messy, drunken kiss. The taste of mead lingered on his breath, making the encounter less pleasant than you might have imagined. You winced, feeling a mix of discomfort and confusion as the moment unfolded.

Shoto's hand slipped beneath your dress and moved up your leg, resting between your thighs. As he pulled away, his eyes were glazed, and he chuckled under his breath, resting his back against the wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," he slurred, releasing his hold on you and stumbling into his chamber. "I'll make sure you're mine, not his." The door closed behind him, leaving you standing in the hallway, processing the unexpected exchange with your palm pressed against your mouth.

As you turned around, your heart sank, its rhythm momentarily disrupted - there, in the corridor, stood Touya. His expression held a mixture of surprise and shock as he observed you, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Touya's harsh words hung in the air, stinging like a bitter truth. "I can't believe you're like that, Y/N, letting my brother touch you this way. I thought you were different, not like every other thrall, but I guess I was wrong."

A lump formed in your throat as you desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand, but before you could utter a single word, Touya turned on his heel and left, the resounding crash of the door slamming shut echoing through the dimly lit corridor.

Now, you found yourself standing alone, the weight of his accusations settling in. The corridor seemed colder, lonelier in the aftermath of his anger. You replayed the scene in your mind, the hurt etched on Touya's face, the disappointment in his voice. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The truth was, you never intended to betray or hurt Touya. You considered chasing after him, explaining that it wasn't as it seemed, that your intentions were never to betray him. But the finality of that slamming door weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A lone tear traced the contours of your cheek, a delicate testament to the waning emotions within. It was as if you had relinquished something profoundly vital, a precious fragment of your life slipping away, leaving behind a poignant void.

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