#my skin? cleared. hair? volumized. life? lived a quarter mile at a time

[scienceismygirlfriend]

i can feel it... it's happening..... i'm becoming..... faster...... furiouser...... vroom........

[chu-ni]

miscommunication – ljn.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au

word count: 19.6k (uff the most ive EVER written...)

warnings: jeno is a lil bit of a dickhead, sorry if the ending is a lil rushed bc i just wanted this fic GONE, hope its not as tedious for you to read as it was for me to write! this whole fic was inspired by this post! happy reading!

In a bid to preserve the future safety of their neighbouring kingdoms from the growing dangers of the northern empire, your parents, rulers of the southern isles, had you betrothed to the immediate heir of the southern mainland, Lee Jeno. You were 8 years old, and quite frankly didn't even know how to spell betrothal, let alone define it. True to tradition, Jeno, with his glasses, bowl cut, and stuffed cat toy came to stay with you for the next four years before he'd have to return to take up responsibilities as future ruler.

Upon first meeting, you thought Jeno was probably the nicest person you'd ever met, if a little boring. He was quiet, soft-spoken, giggly, and a little shy; you'd realised after he'd barely said more than 2 words to you that it would take you a while to bring him out of his shell. You dragged him on various mini adventures as kids (stealing cookies from the palace kitchens, watching the knights train from a bush just beyond the sparring grounds, playing in throne room and impersonating your parents when nobody else was there), and although at first he was reluctant, he became almost as bubbly and loud as you were -- while you preferred to live in the moment, saying and doing whatever you wanted, you were kids after all, he tended to think before he did things, always thinking about what could happen later on. In that sense, despite your differences, he became your moral compass of sorts, stopping you from being too reckless and bailing you out whenever you got into too much trouble. Did Jeno think he'd probably go bald before he turned 20 because of all the stress you put on him, whether that be you ditching tutoring to go climb trees and him reluctantly tagging along, or him having to practically drag you away from the stables before your parents found out and scolded you for the fourth time that week, or even that one time the two of you got locked in the kitchens at 3am with flour everywhere and the two of you had to clean it up and find somewhere to hide until the morning? Yes, and despite his constant state of anxiety and his frequent joking expression of his wish to go home already so he could finally get some peace and quiet, he still cared about you. Would probably jump in front of a carriage for you. Still considered you his best friend above all. Still appreciated you for bringing him out of his shell and changing him for the better. You and Jeno, as best friends would, spent all your time together. Getting married, the betrothal… it was in the backs of your minds, but at 11 ("Almost 12!!" "Shut up, Jeno,") years old, you liked to pretend you at least had the freedom to explore your romantic options (even if you both always managed to find flaws in every girl and boy. "His hair's too long," "She's too short!" "He looks mean," "She looks too nice,"), that you lived a different life, where royalty and alliances and all that jazz didn't exist for the pair of you. Where you were just two kids, two best friends who could do whatever they wanted and never have to worry about the consequences.  As much as you liked to pretend, however, it was just that. Pretend. An imaginary scenario that only went on for a limited amount of time before you inevitably had to return to reality. The two of you returned to reality 3 days before Jeno's 12th birthday, when your parents received a letter dating his return to the mainland. It was less than a week before he left you for,  well, ever. You had 5 days to say goodbye to your best friend, your closest confidant, your reluctant partner in crime. And you had no idea what to do. Jeno didn't like talking about leaving, so the two of you avoided the topic and hung out just as you'd always done.You were both in the library, his last day before he left, helping Jeno find a book he wanted when you brought up the topic. "Jeno." You murmur, stopping your search to look at him. At first glance, he seemed fine, but you knew he wasn't really. At least, you hoped he wasn't. Not in a bad way, no, never; but you hoped you'd made a strong enough bond as friends for him to feel something about leaving you for whoever knew how long. He replies with a nonchalant "Hm?", eyes still focused on the rows upon rows of literature in front of him. "Do you-" you clear your throat, trying to build confidence. "Do you think we'll see each other again?" He's silent for a moment, lips pouting and eyes to the ceiling, as if in thought, before stating, with confidence: "I know we will." You're not fully convinced, and it must show because the way Jeno smiles as brightly as possible calms your worrying heart. Jeno leaves the next morning, and you say goodbye with a tight hug that Jeno is 53% sure is the reason he wouldn't stop coughing on the boat home, and a pinky promise to write to each other every day, week, month, and so forth. He makes you promise not to cry. You break it as soon as he boards. You keep breaking it every night he's gone for the next 3 weeks, after which your parents are basically forcing you to make new friends. They've arranged playdates, tea parties, dances, balls; but absolutely nobody was going to replace Jeno, which is exactly what you thought your parents were trying to do and as such you made every effort not to let that happen. Did you deliberately cause trouble? Yes. Did you think Jeno would agree with what you were doing? No, but you were doing it for him and you were sure he'd understand anyway. So the next 2 months are littered with failed playdates, ruined tea parties, messy dances, and disgraceful balls, and even though you felt a little bad when you overheard your parents relentlessly apologising to the other adults, a bigger part of you was happy you wouldn't have to talk to any more stuffy noble children. At least not for the foreseeable future. It was only when your parents gave up trying to make you make friends that you, ironically, made one. You met Haechan while exploring ("Trespassing, more like," "Shut up, Haechan!") the knights' quarters one day. You'd overheard shouting and insults, so you peeked through one of the doors to see a kid who looked around your age, eyes pinned to the floor and fists clenched at his sides as the imposing man who stood in front of him spewed swear words and other things  you weren't sure you could repeat anywhere else. At that, you immediately stepped in to defend the boy, using your status to take Haechan back up to your own quarters in the palace, where the two of you properly spoke, or at least tried to before a handmaid had burst into your room, panting slightly, saying you'd both been summoned by your parents to the throne room, at which point your heart had leapt into your throat. The throne room, much like the rest of the palace, was lined with windows to let as much light in as possible. The walls were a pastel yellow, with paintings of previous rulers across the walls, and the floor was covered with rugs various shades of verdant green. The thrones themselves were nothing special; the only thing that denoted their specialty was the engraving of your family crest at the top of them. Seated upon them were, of course, your parents. Your mother was tall, lithe, and with an imposing gaze she often intimidated those she came into contact with. Behind all that, however, she was the goofy mother who'd sung made up lullabies to you as a child, who'd laughed when you stamped everything in your parents study with the royal seal, who'd nearly jumped out of her skin when you used flour to 'teleport' in front of her at the age of 6; she just hid it very well. Your mother had always taught you the importance of controlling your emotions, given you irreplaceable advice on the topic, advice you rarely ever put to use, but took in anyway. Your father, by contrast, was short -- well, not that short, but most people looked short when put next to your mother -- on the heavier side, with a trimmed beard and an open smile. Contrary to your mother, he was often the stricter, more disciplined one of the two. He nagged you often, something you didn't think you'd ever not find annoying, but he had your best interests at heart. The two of them, with their almost opposing personalities, made a good match for each other, and you saw the love they had for one another every day; with the way they looked into one another's eyes, the way your father, even with his short stature, would step in front of your mother at the first sign of her feeling threatened, the way they worked together to solve every problem that ever appeared like magic, and you wished someone would look at you like that one day. You and Haechan, gazes fixed to the floor and hearts beating so fast you were sure anyone in a 50 mile radius could hear them, both trembled slightly as your father, who you'd hoped wouldn't be the one scolding you today, let his voice, low and commanding, travel across the room. "Y/N," His tone is expectant, quiet in volume, and you know what that means. You look up at him, and although he appears straight faced, the slight scowl and squint of his eyes betrays his annoyance. You could tell this was going to be another long-winded lecture. "Do you know why you've been summoned here?" He continues, re-adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You mumbled a reply, hating the fact that Haechan would be witnessing what was basically a daily occurrence. He says your name again in warning, and you speak up this time. "….My insolence," At that, he descends into a tirade that you stopped taking seriously once he mispronounced one of his words, at which you and Haechan made amused eye contact and hadn't stopped doing since. You tuned in and out of his rant catching bits of the same old same old story about "Fixing your manners!" And staying out of "Knightly affairs," until  your father couldn't be bothered to speak any more and simply brought in the knight you'd scolded yourself earlier. At much pressure from your father and mother, you apologised, not without gritting your teeth and sending an icy glare your father's way. Seeing as your father had summoned both you and Haechan to the throne, you'd naturally assumed he'd also be scolded, but you had to fight your jaw dropped when your father simply apologised to Haechan for the whole affair and sent him on his way. He was midway through opening the door to exit when you interrupted, "But father--" he'd raised a hand to cut you off, already being done with the conversation. "Who is the princess here, Y/N?" You snarled a "Me," under your breath, a part of you knowing you'd lost the argument before it'd even started. "So that makes it your responsibility to control yourself around others." He turned to go, before whirling back around, a finger pointed directly at you. "Especially the knights, damn it!" At that, he left, your mother following behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room. You waited till they were out of sight before releasing a frustrated groan, trudging back to your room, desperate for some alone time to sulk in your own emotions. You groan again when you find Haechan reading through one of your books on economic development (not like you'd ever read it anyways), not even bothering to acknowledge you until you stamp over to him and snatch the damn thing out of his hands, "Don't touch my stuff." You hiss. He pouts, disappointed, before rolling his eyes. "Thanks," he sighs, blasé. "For earlier." You open your mouth to reply, but judging by how he gingerly sits at the edge of your bed, you wait for him to continue. "If you hadn't come in then I probably would've said something I'd regret, and then my parents would be super mad, and then I'd probably have to start something stupid, like alchemy or something. God, I hate alchemy--" As bad of a mood as you were in, you couldn't help but to laugh. His deadpan yet relatable way of expressing himself reminded you of yourself a little, and you smiled softly to yourself. The sound of him whispering an accomplished "Yes!" under his breath causes you to look up at him in question. "That's what I wanted." His gaze softens as his eyes fall on yours, "You looked a lot worse before. I didn't think it was fair, given what you did for me. So that was my way of saying thanks." The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you also noticing that Haechan's gotten more comfortable on your bed, as you both stare at the ceiling. You break the silence a little while later. "You're welcome." You'd originally planned to end the conversation there and go back to staring at the increasingly mundane ceiling of your room so you could seem cool and aloof, but you had a feeling Haechan wasn't the kind of person to care about things like that. "And….thank you, also." The tables turn. This time, it's Haechan who's looking at you, brows furrowed, lips curled, in question. "I'm not very good at knowing when to shut up, which you've probably noticed," he visibly scoffs at that, and you playfully glare at him in return. "I'm not very good at acting like a princess, either, so I find it hard to relate to other people in my, um, circle?" You question, mainly asking yourself, but he interjects anyway.  "Don't you have any friends?" You swallow, gritting your teeth. "I was getting to that," Embarrassed, Haechan slowly turns to face the window to his left. You sigh before continuing, "Anyway, I had a friend, but he moved away. And I hate the other noble kids; they're all the same, with their ugly clothes and weird hairstyles and the fact  that they're only nice to me when their parents are around--which is barely, by the way-- and how stupid they all are--" Haechan has turned back to look at you at some point during your rant, and there's a mysterious glint in his eyes as he smirks at you. "You're funny. Like me," he studies you for a second, his smirk growing into a grin. "We should talk more sometime," He sighs, then stretches as he stands from his position on your bed. He says nothing as he opens the door, turns to wave at you, and then disappears, closing the door behind him. To say you were a little confused was an understatement. Not only had you inadvertently revealed more about yourself than you'd learned from him in an attempt to get him to open up, your kind-of acquaintance had also simply up and left in the middle of your conversation. Haechan kept to his word of talking more to you, though, as he'd come to find you whenever his assigned knight (who'd been switched to someone nicer after the incident) gave him a break. Over time you'd managed to find out more about him; that he was born and raised a noble, but had always wanted to be a knight, so had begun his squire training this year in the palace -- it was why you'd never seen him before then, that he  was actually a lot like you but a little more ("A lot," "Shut up, Y/N!") sharper-tongued. He liked to express himself through jokes and humour, which was a plus as all the time you spent  shedding tears of laughter helped take your mind off of Jeno's departure. Like you, Haechan liked to talk about anything and everything-- sometimes this led to irritation between the two of you because you both always had something important to say and you were both the only people who'd listen -- but you liked hearing what he'd talk about as you knew you'd learn something new from him every time. You meet your second new friend at your 13th birthday ball, something you vehemently opposed the second you heard the idea…except you didn't hear the idea, you were just told it was happening 2 hours before it was supposed to start. To make matters worse, you didn't even have the energy or the time to try and sabotage it given the fact that your parents had someone watching over you at all times, be it a handmaid, a guard, a servant; practically anyone your parents could get their hands on. The ball itself wasn't even that bad, even though you'd never say that out loud. The ballroom was decorated to look like the sun your people worshipped so much; fabrics of yellow and gold were draped across the room in every hue; tables were filled to the brim with fruits, confectionery, and other foods you couldn't pronounce the name of. Musicians were seated in the corner of the room, playing pieces you recognised from your lessons but never really remembered all that well. Did you appreciate the effort? Yes. Did you care for it all, though? Absolutely not. To make matters worse, there was no sign of your current confidant, Haechan, anywhere -- the whole place seemed to have been populated with the same noble children you hated and their equally as annoying parents. Leaving clearly wasn't an option, given the servant currently offering drinks was doing a really bad job at subtly watching you from their position within the group of noble parents. Sighing, you left the buffet table and all of its tasty comforts to explore the floor, taking great care to avoid the group of obnoxious 13 year olds in the centre of the room.  

You'd be lying if you said you discovered some amazing secret that would change your life forever in between the designated tables and their vases filled with flowers, the overwhelmingly sweet smell of which was beginning to give you more than a headache. Almost the entirety of the ballroom was the same no matter where you went-- the same old stuffy adults in one corner, the  same stuffy disrespectful kids your age in another, the member of staff assigned to you changing every quarter of an hour the only constant, ironically. If anything, you'd say the only thing you'd discovered during the increasingly painful amount of time you'd been here was the fact that you hated birthday balls, and you would be all too happy if someone told you you never had to have one again. Uncaring for whoever it was that was watching you this time, you storm towards the exit, a scowl marring your features. Someone's arm slinging itself over your shoulder and a slightly terrified whisper of "Keep walking, please," spurs you on for the moment, but when you successfully get out of the ballroom (to your own surprise), you fling the arm off your shoulder, stop walking and whirl to face your temporary escapee. Judging by the boyish timbre of his voice earlier, you'd expected someone a little different than whatever the kid currently sheepishly grinning at you was. He was dressed in robes that looked like they'd come from somewhere far away; his face was both adorable and yet belied almost the same air of mischief you'd noticed around Haechan upon your first meeting with him, but there was something different about this one. Unconsciously, your eyes narrowed as you studied him some more, failing to notice the fact that his previous grin had dropped, been replaced by a concerned gaze. You also failed to notice that his mouth had been moving for quite some time now; it's his hand, again on your shoulder, that breaks you out of your trance. "Hello? Are you okay?" He shakes you slightly and you nod before he can cause too much of a fuss. This time, you didn't really care to know who the unnamed boy was or why he'd even snuck out with you in the first place, thoughts of finding Haechan and ranting to him the at the forefront of your mind, but the boy decided to tell you anyway. You'd begun walking, hoping he'd get the hint that you had somewhere to be, but he simply fell into step beside you, continuing his life story. When you bothered to tune in, your mind still set on finding Haechan, and giving little hums here and there to at least give off the vibe you were listening to your unwanted guest, you'd found out a multitude of things. One, that he'd come from the Eastern continent, somewhere you'd only read about in the few books you liked reading, and that he was rich enough to practically be royalty. Two, that the succession crisis over there and the accession of the new ruler caused his family to move to the southern isles to avoid persecution. Three, that his parents own a "nice restaurant in town. You should visit sometime!" Oh, and four. The kid just wouldn't shut up. But you could've guessed that from the moment he started talking anyway. You also found out he was younger than you  "Wait," you're cut off by Haechan, eyes widened in recognition. "You're Zhong Chenle? That kid with the huge house?" You look over to Chenle, analysing his reaction "It's not that huge, I mean--" Haechan cuts him off again, and you tune out of the conversation as soon as they start talking about Chenle's apparent neighborhood popularity. You never do find out why Chenle wanted to leave that party so badly, and the thought of asking always slips your mind. What you do know, is that you see Chenle around a lot more often, but that's only cause after trying some of his mom's restaurant's food you haven't been able to stop making orders to the palace for it. There had to be something in that braised beef of hers that made it so addictive, and Chenle delivering it was a plus, cause it meant the three of you could talk and do whatever for as long as you wanted. So you had friends, at long last. The three of you grow up and mature together, Chenle, offering knowledge far beyond his years despite him being the youngest of the three of you, Haechan, getting a lot better at holding his tongue and being less mischievous, and you, though still a little rebellious at times, have managed to ultimately, tone it down. You still stress out your tutor, Taeyong though-- every time you trick him into letting you go early from your lessons and he finds you in the midst of climbing some tree with Chenle, or beginning to mount a horse with Haechan when you really should be studying he swears he loses more and more years off his life. You're less outspoken, more articulate when you speak; You choose your battles more carefully now, instead of blowing up whenever you disagree with someone -- by around a year or so, and called Chenle. During the course of your one sided conversation, punctuated by monotonous hums of agreement from you here and there, you found yourself in front of Haechan's quarters at long last. Unsurprisingly, Chenle followed after you, even as you opened the door to find him half dressed. "Oh my-- Do you know how much I hate it when you do that!?" Startled, Haechan drops to a crouch, trying to salvage some modesty. "You're acting like I haven't seen it before," you sigh, dragging your tired feet over to his bed, flinging yourself down onto it and closing your eyes. Pulling his tunic over his shorts, dragging a palm down his face, he snaps, "That's when it's just you, idiot," he nods at Chenle to come further in (the poor boy had been awkwardly standing in the doorway throughout your exchange,) "At least let me know if you're going to bring guests." He whines, sitting directly on your stomach, using as much force as possible. "Haechan you-- Ow!" You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. Struggling against the fabrics of your dress, you finally manage to shove him off, kicking him in the process, and not missing the red tinge to Chenle's face and his extremely poor attempt at hiding his laughter. You look to Haechan, glaring, and see him smirking back at you; you make a note to beat him up properly for it later. You take a deep breath, willing your annoyance away, and introduce the two. "Haechan, this is Chenle, Chenle, this is--"  that doesn't mean you don't still rip people to shreds if they have a wrong opinion, though (Your parents are still apologising to the western continent's representative after you cursed him out over his 'inflammatory comments', ( "He said women were inferior beings and that it was amazing I could read, given my smaller brain, mother!" "I don't care what he said, Y/N. he is a guest of ours and you will respect his beliefs!" "….") Jeno, while back home, matured as well. He chilled out (he's still a little weird, but only around his friends) in the sense that he's kind to everyone, respectful to everyone, the epitome of the perfect prince; because he has to be. His parents were stricter than yours were, exponentially so due to the growing threat of the northern continent. And although he finds the continuous prim and proper prince act a little tiring at times, and wishes he could be himself (A goofy, weird, sometimes airheaded, huge cat-lover) all the time, he knows his parents would never allow it ( "That's not how a prince should behave, Jeno."). As a result,  he's secretly irritated a lot of the time, anger bubbling beneath the surface. No-one would ever know, though; he's just that good at hiding it (Until, of course, he meets you again 6 years later and snaps at you by accident). As the years went past, you'd never really forgotten Jeno; in fact, you still thought of him from time to time-- but it was a lot less than when he first left. You'd first exchanged letters every week, but as time passed and the two of you became busier and busier, him with his preparations to be king and you with your own preparations to take over, the letters went from weekly, to monthly, to barely any at all. Sometimes he'd cross your mind and you'd wonder how he was doing, what he looked like, whether he'd grown even taller, if he was still the same old giggly boy you'd dragged around the palace 6 years ago -- but then Chenle or Haechan would be doing something that you just had to see -- and the thought would be gone. You didn't think Jeno would be returning to your corner of the southern isles any time soon, anyway. Life on the southern mainland, for Jeno, at least was hopelessly, mind-numbingly, boring. Those 4 years he'd spent in the southern isles had gone too fast for him, for now he was stuck back with his controlling parents that never let him just be, and it only got a little better the older he got. Jeno had returned home, to his bland room with its white walls and paintings of old men the only decoration his parents would allow. He'd been practically thrown in the deep end when it came to his royal duties; he was supposed to greet this lady, bow to this lord, smile at this diplomat, pretend, pretend, pretend -- because emotions were never becoming of a prince, of a 'future king'. He'd come to hate those 2 words in coming years. -- Seoyoung was the closest thing to a replacement version of you that Jeno could get. It had been a year since he'd forced himself back into the perfect box his parents had always  pressured him to fit into, a year since his unwanted goodbye to freedom and the Southern Isles. The letters exchanged with you had slowly but surely died out, and being left with your own company in a palace as big as the one he lived in was like his own personal hell. Being forced to be a certain way all the time, never being allowed to truly express emotion, along with a clear lack of understanding from his already closed off parents had led to him slipping away from the high walls of the palace and out into the bustle of the local towns beyond. It was there, after running away from some moody teenagers he'd unwittingly bumped into, hiding in the nearest open door available to him, that he'd met her. "Hey!" Jeno whips round, chest still heaving, back pressed into the wooden ridges of the door he'd just shut. "Who the hell are you," she growls, advancing towards him with a pan that looked more and more threatening by the second, "And what are you doing in my house?" Soon enough,  he can feel the cool edge of the pan pressed into his neck, and, grimacing, he pleads, "Please, please don't kill me," and he hates how he very loudly whimpers as the girl presses the pan deeper. Her laugh, a tiny giggle that sounds like addictive music to his ears, changes the mood. “Relax,” she snickers, a sly tear coming out of her eye, “I’m not gonna kill you! What kind of person do you think I am?” She’s thrown her head back now, laughing louder, and Jeno can’t find it in himself to get angry. “I wouldn’t know?” he probes, "We just met, so.." Jeno peels himself off the door, standing awkwardly as the girl drags a chair, flinging herself onto it. Rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down, she asks, "Seriously. Why are you in my house." "Oh, I just, like, bumped into the wrong group of people.... I guess I got on their bad side, cause they chased me through town. This was the nearest open door to hide." She starts laughing again, and Jeno's confused once more. His explanation wasn't *that* funny, was it?  And the longer she laughed, the more he was beginning to suspect Seoyo was laughing *at* him, not at what he said. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't good. "I can't believe," she wheezes, "You got chased...by Minho's gang!" she sputters. "Are you new here or something? Everyone knows Minho and his crew are a bunch of boneheads, they were probably just playing with you," Upon reflection, perhaps the smiles those 'moody teenagers' were sporting as they followed him were less menacing and more...welcoming. But he wasn't going to take his chances either way. "So what if I am new here?" He retorts, "They didn't look very friendly when they starting running after me down the street!" She looks at him for a long moment, before mocking his words and laughing again. "Hey!"  he snaps, but his voice breaks as he says it and it sounds more like a childish whine.

Pushing herself off the chair, she begins rummaging through cupboards and drawers, pulling out various ingredients as she goes. "You must be hungry," she snickers, but she can tell that any more of her incessant mockery would genuinely offend him, so keeps it to a minimum. "Sit down, and I'll make you something to eat." Tentatively, Jeno sits at the table, round, chipped at the edges, and worn from years of use. An aroma soon fills the air, drifting to his nose. Whatever it was, it smelled better than any of the stuff from the palace kitchens- and when she placed the bowl of soup and vegetables in front of him, it tasted much better, too. "So, where are you from?" He chokes on a carrot. "You said you moved here recently, right? Where from?" Now, it was at this point where Jeno hated the fact that he was never that great at lying, because he now needed to come up with a believable backstory and actually stick to it without giving  himself away as the freaking crown prince, for goodness sake. "An island." He states, and hopes she'll be satisfied with that.

"Near the, uh," he downs a spoonful of soup to buy thinking time, "the Southern Isles?" Sounding confused was definitely not going to look believable, but he still prayed to all the gods in the universe, even the ones he didn't believe in, to help him out here. Just this once.  "Okay," she sounds suspicious, he notices, but he's thankful enough she doesn't press further and leaves the thought at that. "I'm Seoyoung," and Jeno inwardly screams as he knows what question is coming next, "What's your name?" What was his name? Meaning, what was his fake name going to be? Like an idiot, he almost gives himself away, "I'm Jen-- Jen. Yeah, Jen." He can practically feel the disbelief in her expression, and quickly goes back to the soup to avoid her gaze. "What about your surname?" 'Are you serious?' Is what he wants to say, but plays along for the sake of hiding his identity. "Uh," he notices the material of the table, and blurts out a "Wood. Jen Wood."

"So your name is Jen...Wood." "Yes." She sighs, gets up to wash her own bowl, and shakes her head. "I didn't think you'd lie for that long." Yeah, he's busted. "I know you're the prince, by the way. Nobody eats soup with a spoon around here unless they're a noble, and you gave yourself away when you basically said your name, Prince Jeno."

His shoulders sag, half in relief, and half in an apathetic resignation to the fact that now that she knew who he was, so would everyone else. And then word would reach his parents that he'd snuck out of the palace and he'd have to say goodbye to any sliver of a chance at freedom until he either ascended the throne or died before then.  "Do you think, you could, like, maybe, not tell anyone?" Being unsure of yourself and not even putting up a fight was not how his mother had taught him to negotiate, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?" He begs. "I won't say a word. In fact, you were never here," Oh, yes! Freedom was still a possibility- "On one condition." Never mind. "You keep coming here. To see me." Honestly speaking, there was no true reason why Jeno would have to go see Seoyoung on a regular basis, aside from avoiding the wrath of his parents, but even so, hanging out with her more often seemed like an attractive concept on its own. So he agreed. "It's a deal," and it was. From that point on, Seoyoung became his, well, your, replacement. He finally had a friend he could pour out his emotions to, one that wasn't handpicked by his parents to make worthwhile connections with, who he could be the same Jeno from the Southern Isles with, not the uptight prince from the Mainland. The addition of Jaemin, the son of rich merchants who sometimes made Jeno question why he was a prince when Jaemin seemed so much better suited, and Renjun, a noble who understood Jeno's struggles even if he was a little too blunt for his liking,  altogether made Jeno, for the first time in a long time, feel at home in his own home. And so life continued like that; going out with Jaemin and Renjun to meet with Seoyoung. Games of tag and hide and seek in the woods soon turned into intense chess battles, mock swordfights, in depth discussions about literature, learning more about the subjects Jeno would soon rule over - there wasn't a single way life could get any better. It's the end of a day spent just with Seoyoung for Jeno. They're sat in their usual spot, across from each other on the same wooden table they had their first meeting on. A candle, mid-burnt, sits in the middle, its wavering light hitting all the right points on her face. Her eyes, a warm brown, are illuminated, her hair, a deep burgundy, looking so silken Jeno's afraid to even breathe in its direction so as not to disturb it, and the curve of her lips, forever locked in a halfway point between the smirk he's grown to love so much and a simple pout, look more appealing now than they ever have done. Locking eyes with her, he moves the candle to one side and leans in, asking for consent. There's a nod of her head and a coy wink and suddenly his lips are on hers and it feels so, so amazing- and then she pushes him away.

"You're a prince, Jeno. We can't do this," she whispers. "What if someone sees you?" He looks at her for a long moment, throwing all thoughts of you out of his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again anyways?  "I don't care," he grins, "I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters." He leaves Seoyoung's house that night with swollen lips and a heart so light it could float off into the distance and Jeno wouldn't even notice. He arrives home, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, parading around his chambers like a lovesick fool, when he sees it. Sealed with the usual blue wax stamp of his parents, resting on his desk, lies an envelope. Tentatively, he opens it, skim reading the contents until he finds the sentence that shocks him so much he has to read it twice: 'You shall be returning to the Southern Isles within the next 3 days. Prepare accordingly.' After removing all thoughts of you from his mind, the memories he has with you return like opened floodgates. The heaviest thing on his mind is how to tell you about  Seoyoung- the right thing, the noble thing to do would be to break up with her - but that would break her heart, and telling you about her would break yours. He could always not say anything and spare both of you the pain...Yes. Yes, he could do that. He was going to do that. -- When you got the news that Jeno would be returning to your kingdom, you were, not to sound like a cheesy young adult novel or anything, beside yourself with excitement. You'd rushed to your chambers upon hearing the news, penning letter after letter while also throwing letter after letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least. 

Gone was the Jeno whose height you'd always make fun of - now he was taller, had grown into his features - which had gone from rounded cheeks and a soft profile to harsher lines, a defined jawline and an aura that gave off the feeling that he was now more royal than anything else.  He was lean yet built, his previous bowl cut, now changed into straight black locks, strands of which fell across his forehead in the best way you could imagine. You were sure that if you looked up the definition of 'prince' in a dictionary, a picture of Lee Jeno would be right beneath it. The fact that you were betrothed to him had never been an important aspect of your thoughts, never something you even deigned to think about, but when he looked like that, you were beginning to enjoy the prospect of seeing him every day in your near future. You walk up to him and curtsey, trying your best to fight the grin arising on your face. "Your Highness," you breathe, eyes sparkling. "Princess," he nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a half smile, while you try your hardest to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. His eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so intoxicating  could stare into them forever, and for what felt like it, you did. You took a step forward, but a quick eyebrow raise from Jeno and a nudge to your side by your mother soon reminds you of your apparent duties as a host, guiding your betrothed to his rooms being one of them. On the way there, you ask him as many questions as you can; how he's been, what he's been up to, what friends he made - but his answers are all short sentences and one worded, a haughty mix of 'yeses', 'no's' and 'I don't know's'. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, you wondered when he'd become so closed off. His expression looks downcast and yet apathetic; like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. You ask him if he received your last letter, and he barely replies with anything more than a noncommittal "Mm." The walk continues, silent and uncomfortable, and when you do finally arrive at his chambers he storms in without a thanks or a goodbye. You're left confused, unsettled, and more than a little hurt. After all, this was supposed to be 2 best friends reuniting at last, not two strangers meeting for the first time. Dinner goes worse.  Multiple times you try to make conversation and multiple times he letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least.  completely ignores you. You look at your parents, who are engaged in their own conversation, and you roll your eyes - at how oblivious they are not to notice their own 'son-in-law's actions, and how frustrated you are at said son-in-law as well. You go to sleep that night even more confused, and you wake up disgruntled and unimpressed. At breakfast, you attempt to make eye contact with him sat directly across from you only for him to, again, blatantly ignore you. Clearly irritated, you stab at your food, making your emotions (however childish) known. "Y/N, do you have something to say?" Your intense eating caught the attention of your parents, while the one person's attention you wanted was still engrossed in his meal. Great. "No, Father. Just hungry." You try your best to control your tone, not in the mood for another lecture about your attitude at dinner. While they had become less frequent over the years as you matured, times like these, where your temper got the best of you, still arose. "It doesn't look as though you are just hungry. What have I told you about your attitude when eating, Y/N?" ...This couldn't be serious. Much to your distaste, your mother decides to join the conversation, "You should really try to be a little more considerate, Y/N. It's not polite to be so... aggressive around your betrothed." Knowing your mother to be the more relaxed one of your parents, it's hard to say you don't feel a little betrayed at her taking your father's side. Luckily, your father changes the subject and you hold back sighing in relief. "Speaking of aggression, have you heard about the Northern Empire's movements lately?" "Ah- yes, I did hear from one of my advisers - their leader is claiming one of the western border towns as their own - troops are already stationed there, apparently," You look between your parents as your mother shakes her head, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, the crease in your father's brow deepening as he frowns in worry. "It seems the the threat of the Northern Empire is manifesting sooner than we thought, dear." The Empire's occupation of the Western border towns meant it would only be a matter of time before they invaded the Southern Mainland, and soon enough the Isles - bad news for you, and even worse for Jeno. "The question is now, what to do before we find them at our doorstep - Y/N, what are your thoughts?" You clear your throat before speaking. "Wouldn't the obvious thing be to send diplomats to work out a deal, but prepare troops at home for when they do arrive?" It made sense in your mind; you had the best of both worlds - peaceful talks with protection if worst came to worst.  Your father shakes his head, pursing his lips. "That would take money, resources, and most importantly, time." Looking towards you, he adds, "Time we don't have!" For emphasis. Your lips curl, annoyed at his blatant shutdown of what you thought was a great plan, but school your features into neutrality when he glares at you briefly. "What do you think, Jeno? This is a matter that concerns you the most, after all." Your ears prick up at the mention  of his name, mildly intrigued to hear his take - if he even bothered to reply. "I actually agree with Y/N," he says. You hear your mother squeal in joy and fight to keep the cringe off your face. "Darling, how cute," she whispers, "Husband and wife agreeing with each other!" Your father coos along with her, while you look on, unimpressed. You look across to see Jeno blush, and are pleasantly surprised to see that even after 6 years, he still blushes just the same as he used to -- eyes cast down, lips turned up in a shy smile, hand reaching to run through his hair before it stops mid air and falls down again, anxious not to ruin it. Breakfast finishes with no further interruption- that is, until your parents stop the two of you as you're leaving to recommend (read: force) you both to take a walk through the gardens to see how things have changed. -- He's ignoring you. Again. Why you thought there'd be a sudden change in the pattern of Jeno blatantly blindsiding you every time you were alone was beyond you, but the feeling doesn't get any less uncomfortable every time he does it. Having had enough, you pull to one side, the force almost throwing the two of you off balance and into some bushes, but you ask - no, demand - just what exactly his problem is, and his reply isn't what you expect. "I don't have a problem, Y/N." Oh, please. "Someone who doesn't have a problem wouldn't pretend their childhood friend doesn't exist after not seeing them for 6 years, Jano," You hiss, "So I'll ask again. What is your problem with me? What have I done?" You hate the pleading lilt that infects the tone of your voice in the second question, and you hate that you can't help it when he still looks so stoic. His expression breaks though, shoulders sagging for what you notice is the first time since his arrival, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "You didn’t do anything, Y/N,". "I- I guess I'm just used to acting a certain way back home-- it's hard to adjust," "You were never like this before," "That was then. This is now."

You felt a sense of regret at not sending more letters after Jeno left - as his best friend, you should've done more to let him confide in you. Then, at least, you wouldn't have this uneasy feeling in your chest that you needed to get to know him all over again. "Sorry, though." He continues, "For acting so cold towards you - I guess I was taking out my frustration at always having to be a certain way out on you - you didn't deserve that." "I know we haven't really spoken for a long while, but I'm still your best friend. You can tell me anything." There's a look shared between you both, and you get the feeling that Jeno understands. "You're in my kingdom, now, not yours. Things are different here, remember?" You tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. The two of you chuckle at that and continue walking, simultaneously falling into step and into the easy, free flowing conversation you'd wanted to have since he'd arrived, It's dotted with reminiscing and head thrown back laughs at old inside jokes - and it's finally like nothing had changed. You listen in rapt wonder as he goes into depth about the adventures him and 2 other boys named Jaemin and Renjun go on, you smile in adoration as he describes his 3 favourite cats he's forced to keep in the servants quarters due to his allergies and the wrath of his parents if they discovered 'vermin' in the palace, as they described it, and you heave a sigh of nostalgia as he complains about not being able to have intense flour battles in the palace kitchens in the early hours of the morning, like the 2 of you used to, when he was here. He listens in content as you tell him about the situations that led you to meet Chenle and Haechan, as you giggle to yourself while describing them, watches the way your expression lights up as you tell him about all the new hobbies you'd picked up, the new places you'd discovered and had quickly marked as yours, and jumps as you grab his wrist and drag him along, through winding paths and bushes of flowers sculpted into arches, into an open spot, surrounded by flora. The vibrance of them almost blinds him, their beauty enough to render anyone speechless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smile at him, pleased at the astonished look in his eyes. "I come here when I want to relax," you continue, understanding his silence. "It's amazing," he breathes, before looking at you with a smile so bright it throws you a little. When you grab his wrist a second time to lead him to other places, the slip of his hand into yours doesn't go unnoticed. -- Jeno was only meant to be staying for a few months this time before it was your turn to visit his lands for the impending wedding. The past 2 months of his stay, although awkward at first, had been just like old times, with the exception of various instances that were more reminiscent of a couple and less of 2 best friends. 

It was one instance in particular, though, that signified a shift in the air between the two of you. It was humid in the city - the air hot and sticky and the typical royal wear the two of you wore, although thin, seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling that dominated you both. You'd been sent on an outing through the town to greet the people and make a good impression, as your father had put it, for once leaving his study to speak to the both of you. The humidity you felt wasn't just because of the weather, though - for the entirety of your walk, every face you smiled at, every conversation you made, every cat you'd be forced to stop and pet - Jeno's hand had been firmly clasped in yours. The only time you were apart was when Jeno had left to 'get something'. What it was, you didn't know. Walls painted a pure white to reflect as much sunlight as possible, Shelves around the shop filled with touches of domesticity - a picture here, a souvenir there - and the slightly irritating smell of the flowers, displayed around the room in bouquets of varying sizes are what welcomed Jeno as he stepped into the flower shop. The florist, a middle aged lady with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, waves as Jeno walks in, him nodding in return as the two make small conversation before she turns to work. "Take good care of her," she calls, busying herself with various bits and bobs here and there, shaking Jeno out of his brief gaze around the store. "I swear to," He replies, running his fingers over the petals of the various bouquets. "Are you sure? The people would have your head if you didn't." He turns to face the florist. Her back is towards him, but her tone of voice commands his attention. It's a beat too long before he replies. "Of course I'm sure!" He smiles, as wide as his cheeks sill let him - the florist turns to face him, her expression mimicking his. He hopes her eyes, seemingly searching for something in his gaze, don't notice the guilty pang in his chest. She seems satisfied with whatever she finds there, breaking the stare and taking a weight off Jeno's shoulders as a result. Busying herself compiling flowers together,  a bouquet, she speaks again. "Y/N..." she begins  forming a bouquet , picking flowers here and there to add to it. "She's like a beacon to us, you know? She's our princess," the florist pauses for a second, looking nostalgic. "When she was born, the country celebrated for 3 days and nights. I still remember it like it was yesterday." He can see her eyes getting glassy, and he hesitates whether he should make an effort to comfort her or leave her alone. He chooses the latter. "And now... now she's all grown up! Betrothed, to be married! So take care of her," she leans forward, near-pleading. The bouquet is done, and she hands it to him. "I- I will. I promise," Jeno declares, his clasp on the bouquet tightening with his words. The guilty pang returns as he leaves, and increases in intensity as you come into view.  The promise he made in there sounded as real as ever - because he'd forgotten about Seoyoung for a second. The closer he got to you, however, the better he saw your eyes light up at his presence, your features breaking into a relieved smile, widening further once you noticed the bouquet in his hands, the clearer it became that he was playing you for a damned fool. -- There's a comfortable silence in your carriage home. Feeling tired from walking around so much, you find your head leaning towards, and then resting on, Jeno's shoulder. It was less than comfortable considering the texture of the road caused your head to bump his shoulder a little too hard every now and again, but you didn't mind. He calls your name, breaking the quiet. "Y/N." You grunt a reply, flitting in and out of consciousness. "Y/N," he calls again, a whine to his voice this time. You grunt again, wanting to stay in your reverie just a little longer. "Y/N~" You look up at him, exasperated. "What?"  You cry out, before his lips are on yours and then suddenly gone. It was a quick peck, a mere meeting of the lips, for lack of a better phrase.  Short, sweet, but oh-so meaningful. He says nothing for the rest of the ride, but the strawberry flush across his cheeks tells you everything you wanted to know anyway. Yes, Jeno kissed you - just to get his mind off Seoyoung. But the heat he felt bloom across his face and the sharp increase in his pulse made him question if his feelings for Seoyoung were as intense as he thought they were if just one kiss with you made him feel this way.

-- You have to hide the obvious shock in your expression when he starts sitting next to you at breakfast the next morning. "Jeno." "Hm?" "What are you- Why are you here. On this side." "Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" "No, it's just- never mind." You have to hide the embarrassment when he asks himself when you'd become so breathtaking loud enough for you to hear. "You're so beautiful,"  He breathes. He's sitting a table away from you, in the palace library. "What? What did you say?"    "Nothing! Nothing," You have to force yourself not to bury your head in the nearest pillow, fabric, hell, cloth - when he starts sneaking kisses from you at every opportunity. "Y/N, my leg hurts." He's draped himself over the chaise longue in your chambers, preferring to spend most of his time there rather than anywhere else. You’re stood over him, hands on your hips. You found his presence a welcome occurrence, happy to get closer with him. "...Okay, let's go to the infirmary together. I'll walk you," "No, no! Not the infirmary." You frown, suspicious. "I think I need a different kind of treatment..." He looks at you expectantly, batting his lashes. "I don't understand." You hear him grumble under his breath, before his hand snakes around your waist and drags you so close your nose s are touching. "Do you understand now?" He whispers, eyes locking yours into place. His lips brush yours, still holding that gaze, and you almost lose the strength to stand as he kisses you properly, smoothly, before pulling away with a cursed wink. You start as a servant bursts through the doors, chest heaving, running towards Jeno and pressing an envelope, sealed with the familiar blue wax stamp of his kingdom, into his hands before running right back out again. The two of you share a look, then focus on the letter as Jeno opens the envelope and you lean over to read it's contents. The Northern Empire has invaded. Return at once. Concise. Clear. Just like the king and queen of the Southern Mainland. At the news, he immediately turns to leave your room, you following, but struggling to keep up. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm coming with you, obviously," you say, a little breathless. You stumble, bumping into him as he abruptly stops. "No, you're not," he says, looking confused. "Yes, I am," you reply, daring him to challenge you on the matter. "If you think I'm going to let you put your life at risk-" "I won't be putting anything at risk, because we'll be together." You caress his jaw, a thumb rubbing circles onto the skin. "I can't protect you all the time. You're safer here," he presses, frowning in worry. "Stay," he begs. "Please?" You take a deep breath, looking directly at him. "Jeno. I'm going with you." You shake your head at his open mouth, stopping him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say. "We're going," your hands move to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly, "to solve this, together. Because that's what a future king," you say, raising your eyebrows at him for emphasis, " and queen do." You continue, still holding his gaze. "And as my future husband," Neither of you can deny the increase in the pace of your hearts at that phrase, "You should have faith in me to defend myself. Okay?"  He releases a breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. "Okay," He whispers. "Okay." He says, louder, as if confirming something within himself. -- The first thing you noticed when you stepped off the boat was how fundamentally different everything was. Where the Isles had streets, although a little less than clean, filled with housing that never looked alike, due to the owners having free reign in how they built it, the Mainland had rows upon rows of identical houses, streets so pristine the suns rays practically reflected off of them. Where the Isles had a mixture of well established shops and stalls that the city's residents would set up and put away each working day, the Mainland had stores  on every corner. The whole city was organised, like everything and everyone had a place to be. It was mesmerising, to say the least. The palace, and its inhabitants, gave ample reason as to why the city looked the way it did. Matching the overall aesthetic of the city, the Mainland Palace was tall, angular in shape, with white, grey, and blue dominating the overall colour scheme - not a hair out of place - a stark contrast to the golds and greens of the palace back home. The people, especially Jeno's parents, were exactly as Jeno had described in the short months you'd  been together and gotten to know each other even better than you did as kids - uptight, stiff, and closed off, even more so now there were northern empire troops; the same troops your parents had betrothed the two of you together to avoid, now stationed further out in the country. You didn’t know whether to feel offended or not when they simply nodded in return to your greeting of them, but an explanation from Jeno as he guided you to your chambers soon let you know that the nodding were his parents actually being nice, for once. Your heart sank as you wondered if this was the kind of atmosphere Jeno had to deal with when he’d returned here 6 years ago, and how he’d even managed to survive it that long. “I know what you’re thinking,” he states, a smirk in his voice. He’s looking directly ahead, but he sensed the change in your mood the second you went silent. You look at him, studying his profile, the same profile you adored looking at so much; studying the length of his eyelashes, the slight to-and-fro sway of his fringe, the natural pout of his lips, and wonder again how a boy so perfect could’ve been subjected to somewhere like this. A place that looked perfect, but seemed far from it. “Don’t feel bad for me,” he warns, turning the handle to your chambers as he stops outside of it. “I’m fine now. I have you, don’t I?” you look at him a beat longer, studying his face for any sign of restraint, of sadness, and slump in relief as there is none.  You nod, half-smiling, "Yes. You do," and walk in.

-- It was amazing, you thought, just how fast the Northern Empire had managed to take a quaint little town on the edge of Jeno's kingdom, once filled with the typical repeated angular structure of housing commonly seen in the Mainland, and turn it into a home of their own - every roof of every house was plastered with the angry and intimidating red and black flags of the Empire, a reminder who had control, who would gain more of it if you and Jeno didn't get them out by today. The first thing you noticed, as the two of you trekked up the hill to the Empire's camp, were the fire-lit torches. The smoke they emitted smelled vulgar, the wind that blew never once affected their flame. You could see the opening of the town they'd invaded the closer you came, managed to get a glimpse of a citizen being roughed up by one of the guards, before a figure clothed in red and black, wearing a mask disguising their face, appears. "Royalty," they murmur, their voice travelling along the wind, barely noticeable yet just loud enough to understand. You feel the visible shiver running down your spine, the strangeness to their voice making you uncomfortable. Jeno's clasp on your hand, pulling you backwards behind him doesn't go unnoticed by the figure. "Cute." They chuckle, before lightly beckoning the two of you to follow,  heading further into their camp with an unnatural smoothness to their gait. Jeno tilts his head, sure some notes to that quiet whisper of the stranger's voice were familiar to him, that he'd heard them before - a different time, a different place, perhaps. He's so engrossed in his thoughts he barely notices you dragging him along, trying to keep up with the stranger while simultaneously avoiding the harsh gazes of the Empire's guards stationed everywhere. He bumps into your back, and you stumble as you stop in front of what you assumed to be the captain's tent, the stranger who greeted you at the gates clapping twice outside the flaps before disappearing. Mystery seemed a recurring theme amongst the soldiers of the Northern Empire, all including the Captain, hiding every feature but their gaze with the same red and black mask. Personality wise, the Captain spoke in circles, sometimes cryptic, sometimes misleading - but it was worth it when you and Jeno left the tent with a stamped agreement that would soon get the Northern soldiers out of Jeno's lands. "I'm proud of you, you know."  You're the first to break the silence, beaming at him as you get nearer to the carriage. "You did really well in there - like a king," you add, elbowing him for emphasis. He scoffs and smiles, a slight tinge to his cheeks at the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without you, though," he steps aside to let you board the carriage first, climbing in after you, "Queen," he teases, mimicking your movements from earlier.  The ride back to the castle was uneventful, and neither of you failed to notice the gradual steady slump in each others shoulders the further away you got from the unsettling loom of the Empire's camp.

News of the agreement was music to everyone's' ears - especially those of the rulers of the Southern Mainland. Both you and Jeno have to force your jaws from dropping at the announcement of a ball to celebrate your combined success, but only one of you has to strategically hide his fingers curling into fists, taut with fear at the secret in danger of being revealed from the roving gaze of his parents. -- The palace did not look so different from its usual appearance when sculptures, fountains, and tables you hadn't seen before decorated areas around the ballroom floor. You'd spent the first few minutes of the ball with Jeno; you'd followed with him as he greeted nobles, nodded in his parents direction, and introduced you to his friends, the ones he'd told you about when you were in the humid heat of the Isles, before quickly disappearing off, summoned to his parents side to 'discuss courtly matters,' he'd said.  You had no issue; after all, a peck on the forehead from him was a sufficient goodbye until he found you later. Jeno was right in his description of Na Jaemin; the man was beautiful, truly no other way to describe him - and, for the son of merchants, exuded a royal air far stronger, far more used to, than any other royal you'd met prior. Where Na Jaemin was kind words bordering on a flirt, smiles bright enough to melt the coldest of hearts, Huang Renjun was, despite being born into nobility, as you'd learned, more rough around the edges than anything else. It was a wonder, you'd noted, that the two boys hadn't been switched at birth at some point long ago, given the stark difference in their personalities. A contrast to Jaemin, Renjun was blunt, had jokes that sometimes made you question whether he meant them maliciously or not, but overall carried himself with an adult sort of grace that you'd come to respect in your short conversation with him, before both him and Jaemin had been dragged off to dance with ladies neither of them knew of. Jaemin and Renjun seemed like good people - this you knew - but why did their eyebrows raise, why did a look of surprise - however fleeting - mar their faces as Jeno introduced you to them? It was that thought you pondered on, had your forehead lightly pulsing with pain as your brow became more and more creased the further into thought you went, when you found him. Found Jeno, or his silhouette, at least, dancing with a girl whose features you couldn't quite place. Well, dancing wasn't a crime - you could go and say hello, tell him how you were feeling about the ball, about his friends - in fact you'd even taken around 4 steps towards the two, hope rising in your chest, when you saw it. Jeno's forehead leaning against the girls, the two of them sharing a longing stare you'd never seen directed towards you, as they, in the presence of all on the ballroom floor, like they hadn't a care in the world, kissed. Kissed. There's a heaviness in your body, a visceral pang in your chest; you aren't sure if you can even take another step - but you carried on, pressed on, towards their dreaded spot, determined to confront the liar who had been your betrothed through all these months, weeks, years. The girl is the first to notice your presence, and you try not to get to caught up in the fact that  your own husband to be was so wrapped up in someone else that he couldn't even deign to notice you. "Oh, hi!" She waves. "Are you a friend of Jeno's?" She didn't even know who you were. Of course she wouldn't.  Why would he tell her he was betrothed to marry a girl from a different kingdom and had been for the past decade. You nodded in reply, swallowing to try and get the lump out of your throat. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed how he'd visible stiffness to his posture,  like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The problem was that he had. He had been caught doing something wrong, and that made it worse. Why? Because it confirmed that he knew. The whole time since he'd returned to you, he'd known. You didn't think the pain could get any worse. "Who are you, if I may ask?" You can barely get out more than a choked up whisper. Your eyes heat up as her perfect smile widens. "Oh, I'm Jeno's girlfriend!" Four words. Four excruciatingly painful words. Love was never a familiar concept to you, at least not in the romantic sense, but you felt that you'd begun to learn what it was during your time with Jeno. She introduced herself as Seoyoung. The longer you stood there, forcing yourself to act as though you weren't feeling your heart break into pieces, the more you saw the appeal. An angelic smile, a kind voice with an addictive country twang to it - safe to say it did wonders for your own self confidence. Introducing yourself afterward, you curtsied and left as quickly as you could, trying not to be rude but at the same time not really caring. You brushed past Renjun on the way out, eyes hot with tears, and the pitiful look on his face you saw -  albeit a little blurry - confirmed everything once more. Just how stupid could you be? How stupid did he think you could be? To lead you on, to make you fall for him, to feed you false dreams while he was living them with someone else the entire time? How could he? Not caring about where you went, just that you needed to be alone, opened the first door that seemed unlocked. What a coincidence, then, that the first door you opened led into the room of the last person you wanted to see. Forest green bed sheets, stark white walls, everything organized and in its place.  Vanilla and nutmeg permeated your nostrils-- of course the room would smell like him, it was his room after all. You walked around, finding paintings of him and his family on the walls, papers, organised into neat piles on his desk, a black leather-bound book on his dresser. You had an inkling of what it was, and against your better judgement, you opened it. You read line after line of somewhat mediocre poetry dedicated to Seoyoung, scattered journal entries about Seoyoung, drawings of Seoyoung. Everything was about Seoyoung. And if it wasn't about her, it was about everyone else but you. His parents, his servants, his tutors, his friends-- it was as though you didn't exist. Had you meant anything to him, at all? You hear footsteps, the door opening and closing, and freeze. A hand rests on your shoulder and you whip round, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

"Y/N." he calls, tentative. You have to clench your hands into fists to avoid slapping him across the face. "Can we- Can we talk?" You've never felt more hurt, more saddened, but most of all, embarrassed - the last thing you'd ever want to look like is a fool and yet here he is, someone you thought you could trust more than anyone else, playing you for one. "Why." You reply, cold. As the two of you stand in uncomfortable silence, you begin  to connect the dots. "Because I need to explain. Listen, I-" "Was it a lie?" You cut him off, and Jeno hates how defeated, how quiet you are - like he's made you into a shell of the person you were. "What? Was what a lie?" "The explanation. Was it a lie." It made sense, when you thought about it. He wasn't closed off because of his parents, because of the life he had to lead - he was closed off, blunt, rude, every disrespectful name under the sun; because by not getting close to you, it would make it easier for him to go back to his little girlfriend back home and pretend his little stint with you in the Isles was nothing more than a trip for princely activities, if she ever asked. "No, of course not. I could never lie to you about that, Y/N." You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh please." You say, having had enough. "You didn't want me to come here because you were scared I'd see her. You only let me come here because you thought you could somehow keep her a secret, have your fun with her and then come back to me and lie to my face. You didn't leave me to talk to your parents. You left me to go and find her. Because you don't care about me, Jeno. You never did." You push past him at that, heading for the door, ignoring his cries after you. "Y/N, will you just wait! Please," He grabs your wrist, forcing you to a stop. "Jeno." You warn, "I want nothing to do with you." At that, he lets you go, and you storm off, through the hallways into your own room, wincing as you bark at a handmaid to begin packing your things, readying to leave. You were over the Southern Mainland. You just wanted to go home.

A crash and a scream break you out of your sombre mood. Opening the door a sliver, you peek out of your room to see absolute chaos - members of the royal guard shouting and yelling at people to be calm, gentry, nobility, and everyone else running to find an exit in panic, and men you don't recognize in familiar uniforms locked in battle with knights clad in the white and grey of the Southern Mainland. Creaking the door wider, as you watched more and more southern mainland knights fall one by one, you realised why the uniform seemed so familiar; because it belonged to the Empire. They'd disregarded your agreement and come to attack anyway - and there's a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach as you consider the implications of it.

Opening the door wider, you break into a run, heading back to Jeno's room, despite your mind screaming at you not to. Irrespective of how much you hated him right now though, you needed to know if he was okay - if there was anyway you could both try and fix this mess. You find him before you get there, sword in hand, locked in battle with an Empire knight, and you wish you had a weapon of your own to fight with. There - peeking out amongst the mix of the fallen and injured, you grab a sword from a fallen enemy and slam it's pommel into the head of someone behind Jeno, the thud of their collapse alerting him to your presence. "…You saved me," he says, voice heavy with gratitude. "Don't mention it. Where are your parents?" You demand. "I don't know," he admits, "Haven't seen them since I left the ball." A pregnant silence falls. "…I haven't seen her either, if that's what you were gonna ask." "I wasn't." You grit out, picking up the sword again and swinging at another attacker with it. The knight meets the blow with a shield - he stumbles with the impact, but the blow isn't hard enough as he moves to attack again. This time it's Jeno who saves you, subduing the attacker permanently. He looks at you expectantly, but you brush him off, dropping the sword, and break into a light run, signalling him to come along. "We should keep moving. Find your parents and figure out what to do," He nods. You don't say anything else. He doesn't either. Both your minds are too preoccupied with the growing destruction around you - the yells and battle cries, the groans of pain, the screams of civilians -- it almost gets too much, but you shove those feelings away. You can't afford to be weak right now - you have people to protect damnit and you'd sooner die than let anything get in your way. The two of you check a multitude of places in the palace as you look for Jeno's parents - the ballroom, the study, the library- all empty. Its when you check the throne room, however, that you find what you seek. Surrounded by countless soldiers all bearing the northern empire  emblem, there Jeno's parents knelt, unable to move. Luckily, you hadn't been discovered just yet, but you could tell from the corner of your eye that Jeno was going to ruin it. Digging your nails into his wrist, you shoot him a look - his eyes burn with protest at first, but he submits as you strain your ears to listen in. The voice you do hear, spitting venom, sends a visible chill down Jeno's spine.  The previous bubbly lilt had gone, replaced with a hard, rough growl. Uncomfortable, in disgust, you watched as she kicked, pushed, and laughed at jeno's parents, and you felt Jeno himself shake in anger, ears getting red as he tried to hold it in. Angrier and angrier you felt him become; until he just... stopped shaking. Like a heavy calm overtook him, like he was on the border of extreme anger and extreme apathy. There was no question that you were a hair's breadth away from saying you despised Jeno right about now, but the sight of Seoyoung, someone he obviously trusted, blatantly disrespect his parents made your own blood boil - but so far you'd managed to stay composed. It was only when she asked - no - demanded the king and queen kiss her feet that you broke your silence. "That's enough." Your heart leaps into your throat as you say it, a sliver of regret already entering your mind, and you gulp as she languidly turns to look at you. "Oh? Looks like we have guests." She makes some kind of signal to her guards, you don't know what, but you do know it results in the king and queen being removed from the area, through doors and into a room you don't know the contents of. Your arm begins to ache with how hard you have to grip Jeno to stop him from going any closer to Seoyoung, and it gets worse as he speaks. "Lay a hand on them Seoyoung and I swear-" "-Oh I won't do anything to them," she grins, catlike. "As long as you do something for me." Eyes narrowing, you step back, apprehensive.  Seoyoung looks at Jeno stepping in front of you, hand on his hilt, and laughs - quite familiarly, you note, to the figure that greeted you when you went to the Empire's camp a few weeks prior. "Why so afraid? It's fairly simple…. I should hope." "All you have to do," she continues, voice lowering to an unsettling purr, the contrast to her earlier persona still throwing you off, "Is kneel before your queen," she preens, ascending the steps and positioning herself comfortably on the queen's throne. Jeno grunts in frustration, Seoyoung simply grins in satisfaction. "What is it that you want?" He pleads, strained. As slowly as she sat down, Seoyoung rises, making her way to and around Jeno, her movements serpentine. "Oh, I just want what every young girl wants," she sighs, dreamily, trailing a finger down his arm as she circles the room, "True love and a reckoning, blood, fire, a pony…" She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear, "the precious little crown you're going to inherit."

Eyes aflame with anger you shoved between them, "The people would never accept you as their queen." You spat, and with an unnerving tilt of her head, Seoyoung's gaze met yours, lips curved into a half smile. The next second, as she continued to stare, you saw a flash of something flare up in her gaze. You realised what it was as your legs were suddenly screaming in agony, a sharp pain forcing you to kneel and a dark aura radiated from her. Looking to Jeno for help, you tried to get his attention, only hearing his grunts of pain to tell you he was in the same boat. "With all due respect, darling," she purred, bending to your height, her half smile widening into a complacent simper, "I think they will." She nodded at her guards, and together they left with a flourish, the slam shut of the door you and Jeno had entered through finally allowing the pain to stop. Bodies exhausted, dregs of agony still refusing to leave your bones, you help each other up and set off to find Jeno's parents. The walk is rightfully silent, the clack of your shoes against the floor the only sound permeating the air. You find them, thankfully okay, just unconscious and tied up, and the two of get to work undoing the ties. "We should wake them up," you grunt, back towards Jeno, "Tell them to get somewhere safe." "I think we should leave them here. Let them rest and wake up in their own time." "There are people dying as we speak, Jeno, and you want to leave your parents here? To rest?" "At least I'll know where they are. I can send a guard to stay with them-" "Every guard is in battle with the Empire's forces right now! And if we leave them here, you forget that Seoyoung will know where they are as well." You pinch the bridge of your nose, progress to rubbing a thumb back and forth across your brow. "Do you- do you want her to find them?" Jeno is silent as you turn around, looking directly at him. "Are you working with her?" "Y/N, no. No, I would never do that, ever, not in a million years! You know me, Y/N," You give him a long look, taking a deep breath. "No, Jeno. I don't." A part of you feels like you shouldn't have doubted him that much, but a larger part of you knows you were right. You don't know Jeno. At least, not anymore. Once you get both parents awake, you give a brief summary of what went on and warn them to leave - and they do, albeit sceptically. Jeno's worry shows clear on his face, but you say nothing of it as the both of you continue to go through the palace, trying to find an exit that isn't barred by enemies, avoid Seoyoung and at the very least, find Jaemin and Renjun to regroup with all at the same time. Thankfully, you arrive at the palace courtyard in one piece, and find Jaemin and Renjun messily defending themselves against 4 other knights, who's swords kept dangerously close to Renjun's arm and Jaemin's neck. Exasperated, you huff, find another sword to use, and ram it into the nearest soldier - his choked out groans of pain combined with the coppery tang of his blood as it leaked out was enough to make bile rise in your throat, but you force it back down as you and Jeno join the battle to help take the weight off of Jaemin and Renjun. After subduing all of them, plus some extra who had appeared, the four of you leave the palace courtyard, running continuously until you're sure you're safe, and there's another awkward silence, everyone pointedly avoiding your gaze. You feel Jeno's hand still clasping yours, and shake it off, his touch uncomfortable. "So…where do we go from here?" Jaemin's the first to break the quietude. "We go home," you state. Renjun looks at you and then in the direction of the castle, confused. You huff, rubbing your temples. "My home." -- The four of you board a boat to the Isles early the next morning - after barely getting any sleep in the palace stables you'd had to take refuge in the night before - to avoid detection. You'd had no idea whether the Empire's forces had overrun the whole kingdom yet, and didn't want to take any chances by leaving later on when there was currently a bounty on the heads of those travelling with you. You all arrive home in one piece, and go your separate ways upon arrival; you and Jeno towards the palace, and Jaemin and Renjun towards the city to find a place to stay. You blatantly ignore Jeno for the first few days back -  you return to sitting across from him at breakfast, you barely reply to his questions most times, and generally act  like he doesn't exist. It works - but you know you can't keep it up for long. You conveniently hid the piece of information about Jeno practically cheating on you from your parents,so you knew you couldn't keep ignoring him forever without them noticing at some point and asking questions. It seemed that Jeno had come to this realisation also, as he cornered you in your room on one day that you'd been especially ignoring him, brushing him off whenever he even so much as breathed in your direction. "Jeno, get out of my--" "We need to talk. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out." You folded your arms. "There's nothing to talk about. You led me on, I fell for it, I found out, and now I hate you. What more is there to say?" His face fell. "You really hate me?" You sighed. Of course you didn't. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw the image of him kissing her again - so would it really be such a lie if you said you did? "…Just get out of my room, Jeno." He turned to leave, looking at you one last time, before going, shutting the door behind him as he went. Sighing, you threw yourself back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, happy to be alone, when the door opened once more. It was Jeno again. "I'm sorry I just--I can't leave without telling you the truth,"

"What truth? That you loved her all along and now that she's shown herself to be some evil villain you think you can just come in here and- and use my feelings as some way to make yourself feel better?" Your voice began to shake, the lump in your throat appeared again, and your eyes watered and you hated that you were crying in front of him, that he'd made you like this because it wasn't fair, Goddamnit.

It wasn't fair that you still hurt so bad, while he didn't seem that hurt at all. If anything he seemed inconvenienced. Inconvenienced that everything had to come out like this. "I'm--I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice was a little rougher, a little choked up, and you could tell he was on the verge of breaking. He sat down at the edge of your bed, placing a hand on yours, tentatively. You don't pull away. "I met Seoyoung a year after I left. My parents didn't tell me when I would see you again; I didn't even think this would happen this soon," You nod, signalling him to continue. "I was lonely, and I found it hard to adjust to the way I used to be when you'd shown me so much more. Nobody but her really understood how I felt. She gave me an escape." A little smile graces his features, and your heart chips at the fact that if you weren't sure he loved you before, you could be certain he didn't love you now. Either way, you were finding this all a little hard to process - some girl he'd barely met when he moved home became his only friend due to his weird relationship with his parents. "I guess I just wanted to live as freely as I could before I was tied down forever." Tied down? Is that really what he thought being married to you would be like? Had he forgotten how close you were as children? "What about the ball," you whisper. "Huh?" his eyes flick over to yours and you meet his gaze. "I said. What about the ball. When I saw you," you struggle to get the final two words out, coming out as a reluctant mumble "….kissing her." He stiffens at that. "I didn't mean to kiss her," You cock a brow, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Not in there, at least!" "So you meant to kiss her somewhere else? So I'd never find out?" You exclaim, scandalised. "No, no, that's not what I meant-- just listen to me--" "--I am, Jeno. And I'm struggling to see the point." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "I was going to tell her then. That we couldn't be together, that I was betrothed. But she kissed me and I--I don't know. I don't know anymore," "Then why lead me on? Why kiss me, why make me think that you wanted this, why use me?" "Because," he breathes, leaning towards you, "I love you, Y/N. I always have," For a moment you felt as though your heart could explode with joy. Your childhood friend-turned-crush-turned-lover confessing his love for you. If this was a different situation, it would've been everything you'd ever wanted. But you knew better. "Oh, save it. You're just saying that to make me feel better. You don't love me, Jeno. You just think you do." "I meant it, Y/N. I really do love--," You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "You love Seoyoung. Not me. We need to focus on stopping her anyways," The two of you make eye contact, Jeno's intense gaze meeting your stubborn one. Wordlessly, he goes to the door once more, saying one sentence before leaving. "I meant what I said. I'll prove it to you." You knew he didn't,at least you thought so.  You thought you knew him better than anyone and you were clearly wrong about that so maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about this. But you had enough faith in yourself to know you were right. You avoided Jeno for the rest of the day aside from dinner when you absolutely had to be around him, and all through that he'd smile at you and pretend everything was okay. It made you sick to smile back, but you pushed through, determined not to let your parents suspect anything. Events in the Mainland and the issue of trying to protect the Isles already commanded most of their attention - letting them know that the practically lifelong betrothal they'd arranged had gone horribly wrong wasn't something you wanted to disclose just yet. Besides, if staying with Jeno meant the safety of your people, a little sacrifice of your happiness wouldn't be too much of a price to pay, you thought. The knights quarters had always been a second home to you - it was where you first met Haechan, where you made friends with Chenle, where you gave advice, got advice, told stories, played pranks, shared secrets - and now you were going there to share the biggest secret of all. You find Haechan's door, and you're about to enter when you pause. You can hear Chenle's signature laugh, Haechan's teasing lilt; that was fine - but why were Renjun and Jaemin's voices mixed in with them? You wouldn't call yourself childish, and you wouldn't call yourself petty either, but hell, you couldn't care less if people called you those things and more because the idea of Jaemin and Renjun making friends with your best friends made you feel more than slightly ill. Your parents had insisted Renjun and Jaemin stay in the palace once you'd told them all that had happened back on the Mainland - at first you'd been somewhat indifferent about it, but seeing them through the crack of the door - heads thrown back in laughter, eyes turned into crescents from their wide smiles - makes you suddenly wish you hadn't told your parents about them at all. You stand at the doorway, swing the door fully open, and wait for them to notice your presence. It's almost laughable, really, how fast Haechan and Chenle brighten even more when they see you, and how fast Renjun and Jaemin lose the smiles and clear their throats, trying to make a quick exit as Chenle grabs your wrist and drags you further in. "Y/N!" He beams, his smile easing the suffering in your heart a little. "Come sit!" You stand, uncomfortable, as Renjun and Jaemin's eyes are both suddenly pinned to the stone tiles of the floor. The grin slowly falls off of Chenle's face as he notices the cooling of the room's mood. "...Uh, guys?" He says, hoping someone other than him breaks the silence and soon.  "I think we should go," Renjun suggests, sheepish, him and Jaemin both leaving before Chenle can even ask why. Throwing yourself onto Haechan's bed, just like you used to, you let out a defeated sigh. "Something you need to tell me about?" He jokes, lying next to you. "There are many things I need to talk to you about," you reply. "Hey, what about me?" Chenle chimes in, standing over the two of you. "The both of you," you correct, "There are many, many things I need to talk to the both of you about." And so you vent. You tell them everything, from beginning to end, and by the time you're done, it's a struggle trying to get the two of them not to go and give Jeno a piece of their minds. Chenle can do nothing but sink to a crouch, mouth open in disbelief. "I just don't get it," Haechan breathes. "You seemed so close, how could he- do something like that?" He grabs your hands and pulls you into his arms. "Y/N, I'm so sorry." Face half smushed into his chest, half not, you smile to the best of your ability. "It's ok," you mumble, defeated, "Well it isn't, but it's ok as it's going to be. I guess." Haechan's embrace is warm, tight, reassuring. As his hand rubs circles into your back, slightly rocking back and forth, you wonder if life would've been easier if you'd never been betrothed. If you'd somehow, by some weird stroke of fate, fallen for him instead of Jeno. At the very least, the biggest thing you'd have to worry about when marrying Haechan would be getting him to shut up. Being talkative was one of the traits the both of you shared, to a fault. You untangle yourself from him and meet his confused gaze. "Haechan, I need you to promise me something." "Of course." He nods along, wary. "Please, please don't bring this up to him," you wince as you say it because you can feel his judgement. "Y/N, you can't be serious." "Please, Haechan. I don't- I don't really want to hear about my husband cheating on me any more than necessary, you know?" The way your voice trails off in the latter part of that sentence loosens Haechan's resolve. "Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms. Chenle puts an awkward hand on your shoulder - he'd never really been one for physical contact - finally gathering some words to say. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we'll support you." The two of you nod at each other, and for once, the plague of Jeno on your mind is lifted, as you appreciate just how lucky you are to have friends as priceless as these. The reprieve is temporary, though, as two knocks in quick succession and a push at the door reveal Jeno, looking a little more exhausted than the last time you'd seen him. Chenle moves in front of you, and Haechan stands, the both of them stony-faced. "Is it okay if I come in?" Jeno asks, still standing at the threshold of the door. "I don't know," says Haechan. "Is it okay if I let a liar into my room?" You try to get his attention, to tell him to relax, but his focus is firmly fixed onto Jeno. "You can come in," whispers Chenle, and Haechan's head whips round to glare at him in shock. Chenle ignores it, and continues speaking. "Why did you come here?"

"Because," Jeno begins, "Because I wanted to know if I could make things right. If she'd let me." He tries to meet your eyes, and you can feel him looking at you, but you ignore it. He'd done enough damage, and you didn't even want to give him the time of day. Haechan seems to notice this, and speaks for you. "You want to know how to make things right? Get out of here," Jeno's expression goes from hopeful to crushed - you're glad he hasn't noticed you started looking at him. "Stop walking around here as though everything is fine, and go fix the mess in your own kingdom- a kingdom you're supposed to be future king of - before trying to save a marriage you ruined. What kind of king abandons his country in need?" The ire in Haechan's voice is so palpable you've never been more thankful that you weren't on the receiving end of it. There is a long silence after his speech of sorts, and all you hear from Jeno is a simple "Thank you," before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. "Before you get all angry at me, you never said I couldn't say anything about him, right Chenle?" Haechan begs, looking back and forth between you and Chenle, looking at you to make sure you don't kill him, and at Chenle for moral support. "He is kind of right there, Y/N." You groan at the both of them, rolling your eyes. -- You couldn't be angry at Haechan - because you agreed with what he said. He was right in what he said to Jeno, which was why you were angry at yourself for  the fact that you were currently chasing Jeno down the hallway, for reasons you'd probably address when you were alone in your room at night - or any other time that wasn't right now. "Jeno!" You call, and chuckle, mirthlessly, at the irony of how it was now you doing the chasing and not him. His hair flutters and settles beautifully as he turns abruptly, and you almost, almost, forget you're supposed to be angry at him when you see the innocent widening of his eyes and slight opening of his mouth as he turns to your calling of his name. You catch up with him, taking a minute to catch your breath, and cursing yourself as you still have trouble comfortably speaking. "I just," you wheeze, "I just wanted to tell you...not to listen to Haechan...he's angry for me," For all that tree climbing you did as a child, it was crazy how you wouldn't be at least somewhat more fit than you were now. "He's right," he replies, and you raise an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath. "I have a plan - Haechan said I needed to fix things, and I will." Before you can even get out a 'How?', he cuts you off. "Just trust me." He doesn't give you any more information than that, and goes back to borderline running through the hallways, leaving you alone, having caught your breath too late to call after him. -- You're greeted at breakfast the next morning by an empty seat across from you and questions from your parents that you can only make just about believable answers to. A quick search and some asking around leads you to find that Jeno is gone, having only left a note for Jaemin and Renjun notifying them of his departure - meaning if you wanted to know where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do (though you already had a pretty solid idea), you'd have to talk to the two people you most definitely had more of a dislike for than anything else. It's Jaemin who notices you first, unsure of what to do or whether to go as it becomes clear that you're actually approaching the two of them, and not just taking a walk around the palace courtyard. "Y/N," he smiles, and you can tell he's just trying to be polite by the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his smile looks more and more like a grimace the longer he holds it. "Is there anything we can help you with?" A corner of your lips quirks a little as Jaemin nudges Renjun to turn around. "Did Jeno tell either of you where he went? I can't find him," Its Renjun who tells you that all Jeno left for them was a note with five words: I'm going to fix it. And with that, your suspicions are confirmed; Jeno had most likely gone back to the Mainland, to 'fix' the problems that plagued it there. However now, and only now, was when you felt angry at Haechan for his outburst a day earlier - because now Jeno was gone, and you still had questions that only he could answer, whether you liked what you would've heard or not. "Um...while you're here," says Renjun, breaking you out of your reverie, "I-" a sharper nudge from Jaemin, one that actually looks painful, causes him to correct himself. "We, wanted to apologise. For the ball. As Jeno's friends, we should've stopped him as soon as it started." You disliked Renjun and Jaemin for their role in the whole Jeno being a cheater debacle, but truth-be-told, you weren't all that angry at them, because they had no real loyalty to you. Jeno was supposed to be your best friend. By principle, he would've been the last person you'd expect to ever betray you. And yet, he did. So you weren't angry at Jaemin and Renjun for siding with their own friend. You felt hurt, by Jeno. "It wasn't your fault." You mutter to the pair of them, before turning to leave. -- It was sickening. Sickening, Jeno thought, how easily he'd let himself be fooled for so long, by someone he trusted so much. As he mounted the steps two at a time into the palace, he wonders if that's how you had felt, when everything had fallen apart just over a week prior. He still felt a pang in his chest every time he pictured the look on your face from that day; hurt, betrayed, disbelieving. As he entered and saw the Empire's flags strewn all over the previously pristine castle interior, he wondered just when he'd lost himself this much. Haechan was right - what kind of king was he? He'd barely any idea of where his parents had gone after that night; if Seoyoung had taken them again, if they were safe; he hadn't even bothered to find a way to check up on his kingdom, which was already beginning to lose its shine and lustre at the occupation draining the life out of its veins. He felt like a waste of a king - no, he was one. But at the very least, the least he could do as a king in its own right was save his kingdom from the invaders that plagued it - he had a plan, and it was going to work. It had to; he had no other choice. Seeing the door of the throne room again brought back memories Jeno didn't really want to think about; it simply reminded him of his own horrible, horrible mistake - but he steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. It's entirely too laughable how Seoyoung is sat in the same place she was when he left - perched on the queen's throne, red hair tied back, and eyes that looked dull and soulless. Was that what he'd allowed himself to fall for? "Jeno!" She croons, beckoning her guards to bring him closer. "I missed you," Her patronising manner of speech, like a mother to its child, felt like nails scratching down a chalkboard to his ears. But he pushed through it, put on the best smile he could muster, and began to execute the first step of his plan. "Really?" He asks, eyes coy. "I thought you would've wanted me gone." He's directly in front of her now, can see in detail just how much the old Seoyoung, the one he used to know, was gone. But was she ever really there? That was a question Jeno had been asking himself since he'd arrived at this place. "Oh Jen," she purrs, and its a struggle not to narrow his eyes at the old nickname, "I wanted everyone else gone," She rises off of the throne to meet him face to face, slinking around him to put her hands on his shoulders, lips brushing his ear as she speaks. "But you and I, you with your crown and I with my power," It's somewhat frightening how absorbed she sounds, "Jen, we could rule the world! You and me," How stupid did she think he was? It was all too clear to Jeno what she was doing; the nickname to soften his resolve, the enthusiasm in her words, the closeness to try and distract him from what she was really saying - that she wanted him to give up his throne to let her rule the world, not them together - but just her. So he agreed. "We can rule the world," he breathes, realisation tinging the edges of his voice. "Together," he half asks, half states. "Yes," she sighs, "Together." -- There are a lot of things Jeno comes to find out, the longer he stays with Seoyoung. One; He was right - ever since he'd agreed to joining Seoyoung's side, she'd taken the lead in everything, and had gotten strangely irritated whenever Jeno tried giving his input (not that he did often, of course). Two; His parents, thankfully, were still safe. From keeping his ear to the ground and bits and pieces of information he'd managed to scrape from the servants of the palace, he'd found out that they were in hiding, and that Seoyoung already had guards looking for them. "To bring them home and keep them safe," she said when he'd asked. But he knew what she really wanted to do with them. Three: You were right - when you said she'd never be accepted as Queen. Jeno soon learns that the only guards who truly respect her are the ones left from the crew she stormed the palace with - and that the original palace guards were still loyal to him. --. They're in the throne room when it all comes together; the planning and secret preparation he'd been working towards for the past 3 weeks. This time he would put Seoyoung away, once and for all - especially now that he'd learned that his parents had been found and that they were locked in the dungeons, courtesy of Seoyoung, of course. "Promise me you'll stay with me forever," she whispers, and Jeno's stomach turns as her lips graze his. "I promise," he says, opening his eyes to find Seoyoung's still shut. It's in this moment where his chance arrives - he clicks his fingers 3 times, and lets out a low whistle; the code he'd devised with the guards a few days prior to summon them. As the guards file in, coming closer and closer towards the two, Jeno's hands rise from her clasp to cup her face - which, from this angle, Jeno thinks, almost looks innocent. He offhandedly wonders what may have happened to make Seoyoung such a contrast to her features. "Jeno." She mumbles, eyes still shut, forehead still leaning against his, a hand rising up to cup his. "What are the guards doing here?" He hums, voice low. "Just trust me," A sliver of a smirk graces his features as he continues, "I have a surprise." He takes her hands and lowers them, still holding them - trying to make it as easy as possible for the guards to slam the restraints on as fast as they can. Slowly, delicately, he steps away from Seoyoung;  a tilt of his head signalling one guard to come forward and do the act - and, like a cliché flash, it happens. He lets go, the shackles come down, and Seoyoung's eyes finally snap wide open; the same flash from that night occurs again in her gaze, but it does nothing. The shackles were made of iron - specifically to block her from using any of her tricks to get away. At her inability to inflict harm the way she desired, Seoyoung's expression crumples into a horrid mix of anger and shock. "Jeno," she calls, tone shaky, uncertain. "What are you doing?" He says nothing - simply allows himself to giggle loud enough for her to hear as the guards drag her down to the dungeons. As she should be. As she should've been all those months ago. -- "I'll give you whatever - money, power, control - freedom from your parents I know you hate so much - all you have to do is join me, Jeno." She'd been down here for over a week, allowed no contact with anyone while he tried to restore order in the kingdom above. It seemed, from the borderline feral look in her eyes and the fatigue that plagued her very being, that being in the dungeons was taking its toll. No, it didn't seem so; the longer she spoke, Jeno knew it was so. "What happened to ruling the world, together?" She pleads. Trying to appeal to him using his own words, he notes. He says nothing, simply keeps eye contact with her and lets her continue. A guard barks at her to keep quiet - she glares at them, grunting as the shackles on her wrists prevent her from doing what she so desires, and returns her gaze to Jeno. "Jen, stop being stupid and tell them to let me out, please." Again with the nickname, he thinks. Before, long ago, when he'd first met her, his heart would've fluttered, cheeks would've reddened at her use of the name. Now, though, all it did was send an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "Jen? Jeno, tell them to let me out." She's less desperate and more irritated now, his silence, his blank, uncaring, stare making her ever angrier. He wonders, as he's done so many times he's had to be around her, as she nags and scolds and patronises, just who Seoyoung even was. If he ever knew her. He wonders, for the second time, if this was how you felt. She's gone back to being desperate now, but with some emotional guilt-tripping to really try and pull at his heartstrings. "If you love me, Jeno - if you ever loved me - you'd let me out. Please," He's silent. "If you love me, you'll do the right thing! Jen, please!" If he loved her. He inwardly scoffs at the thought. What he had for Seoyoung, he realised, wasn't love. No - maybe it was love, at one point. But now, now he realised that it had turned into infatuation. And after her big reveal, that infatuation had quickly left, leaving nothing but disgust in its wake. "You don't get to call me that name. Not anymore," He says, brows furrowed, lips curled into a sneer, as Seoyoung grips the bars of the cell, tears rimming her eyes.  "I never loved you, Seoyoung. And I am doing the right thing," he spat, leaving her to rot in her cell, her calls and shouts sounding like static the further away he got. -- With Seoyoung out of action, Jeno uses her as ransom to get the Empire troops to leave - and they do this time. Once they're gone, he stays in the mainland for a while, working on re-establishing the monarchy. For once, he thinks, maybe the title of king truly belonged to him. His parents, since being freed, had done nothing but pull Jeno into a tight embrace, and had then kept mostly to themselves. The embrace was probably the most amount of affection Jeno had ever received, but it was a start. At last, he felt, things were beginning to change. -- You were anxious. More than anxious, you were worried. You'd heard a little here and there of the events that had happened, of Jeno supposedly joining forces with Seoyoung to betray her in the end, and safe to say, your own feelings about him were now a mess of emotions. On the one hand, a part of you was still angry at him for leaving, for putting you through all this, for practically breaking your heart - on the other hand, you had to respect his diligence; he said he was going to fix things, and he did. He also showed that he was done with Seoyoung; he'd had the girl imprisoned, for goodness sake. But still... were you really ready to forgive him? It's these thoughts that have you deep in the trenches of your mind before the doors to the throne room, where you're so nervously pacing, open and shut. You look up, suspicious of who it may be; maybe a handmaid, maybe Jaemin or Renjun wanting to have a chat, maybe- "I fixed it," he breathes. It's him. You're speechless, lost for words, can barely function as Jeno's arms engulf you, as vanilla and nutmeg overpower your senses, as his grip on you becomes just a little tighter, like he couldn't ever bear to let you go. You pull away, putting some distance between you. You missed him, *yes*, but there were things you needed to discuss. You almost rush back into his arms at the flash of hurt that graces his features, but steel yourself. There were things you needed to say, this you knew - so why was it so hard for you to speak? There's a weird silence between you both; Jeno clearing his throat, you fiddling with your dress - you're almost there, have almost found the right words to say, but as usual, Jeno seems to beat you to it. "I wanted to give you a proper apology," he starts. His hands are shaking, and he balls them into fists. "There's no excuse for what I did, at all. And-" he stutters, "And if you've decided you don't want to be with me anymore, then I understand. I'll tell our parents everything. You deserve a lot better than me, Y/N." Your heart finally feels somewhat at peace. All the turmoil, all the heartbreak; It was only an apology, but you felt like you could start to build something with Jeno again. "I do deserve better," you acknowledge, and Jeno swears his heart chips a little at the thought that he really had lost you forever. "But I don't want better." You breathe slow. "I want to give us another try." Jeno  grins so wide his cheeks ache, then takes a step towards you. "Also," you continue, "I need to apologise. I shouldn't have doubted you, that time with your parents. I went too far, and I shouldn't have." Jeno shakes his head vigorously, "No, no! I deserved everything I got. If anything, I'm happy you're even willing to have me," He takes your hands in his, leans his forehead against yours, and feels the tension in his shoulders that had been there for who knows how long, finally release. "Could I- Would I be able to-" He sighs in annoyance at himself, and you feel a genuine smile begin to form for the first time in what seems like a long time. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, hesitant to overstep a boundary. You close your eyes, look into his, and see no secrets there. "Yes," you whisper. Jeno kisses with emotion - like you're a fragile thing he simply mustn't break, but also like he'll never see you again. Jeno puts everything he couldn't put into words into this kiss, as though its your own secret language - a language you had no difficulty understanding. As he cups your cheeks, leans back a little, and simply looks, deeply, into your eyes, you catch the second of his unspoken  messages. I love you, his eyes say. I love you, say yours.

[xmenwickedgame]

Here’s to the New Year (drabble)

//So I wrote this last year around this time. I just didn’t have a blog to share it on. Although some things have changed for my muses in a year I thought I’d upload this anyway. 

Happy New Year!

___

Sometimes ten years makes all the difference. 

That was the thought running through James Xavier’s head this evening. He was seated in the family room—distinct from the living room as this was smaller and almost exclusively reserved for his family as opposed to the growing student body. One of the many changes made over the last decade but not necessarily a bad one. The Xavier family and all extended members had a rough and rocky history: they deserved a space to let their hair down or however the saying went. Be the man and/or woman behind the curtain and just...unplug. On the off-chance someone somewhere needed something, well, that’s what telepathy was for. Mister Xavier to the rescue in record time. James smiled to himself, nestling further against the sofa he currently occupied. He remembered a time his powers caused more trouble than solutions. Another welcomed change in the last decade.

“What’s so funny?” Ventured a voice. James met the gray eyes of the woman seated beside him.

“Ahh, nothin’ Em,” he replied with a lazier grin. “Just reminiscing.”

Emily Clearwater was his best friend and significant other: she was one of if not the first major change in his life all those years ago. When he’d been a boy of fifteen and she a girl near-about that age—her Time Lord DNA made it difficult to tell. It worked out though, he mused, because he too aged at a slower rate. They’d been through hell and back, he and Emily had: sometimes hand in hand, others with teeth bared and bleeding hearts. Here they were now about to start a family.

Warmth filled James’ yellow eyes—eyes like his mother’s, but only the pupils—and he shuffled up just slightly.

“Reminiscing?” Emily echoed as he wove an arm around her shoulder. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you use that word.” She laughed as she spoke, a warm, hearty sound. He couldn’t help but echo it.

“Oh yeah?” James asked, kissing the crown of her auburn hair. “This mean I get some kinda prize?”

“Oi!” A loud and deliberately obnoxious voice belonging to the Doctor cut in. 

“Whatever you’re gonna give ‘im you give in your own private quarters. ‘s nothin’ anyone here wants to see.” The elder Time Lord waved his hand at the two in what looked like a scolding motion. James fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was unable, however, to fight off a blush and by the way Emily’s skin warmed up beneath his chin she’d apparently failed as well.

“Shite dad,” she grumbled and James was very sure he heard an eye roll in there. “We aren’t kids anymore.” Emily slid a hand over her baby bump. At four months, she was just starting to show. “Are you gonna keep the lectures up once the baby’s born?”

The Doctor scowled and leaned forward in the loveseat he currently occupied. 

“I will if you two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Seriously, Doc?” James jumped in. He had, in the last decade, managed to score good graces with the older (way way older) Time Lord but that didn’t mean they always saw eye to eye. James placed his hand over Emily’s before continuing. “You don’t think we’d actually—“

“Okay that’s enough of that.” Announced the unmistakable voice of Raven Darkholme. All heads turned as she entered the room, a tray of finger foods balanced in each hand. Haha, James thought and while it was juvenile he couldn’t help himself: mom to the rescue.

“Need help, love?” Asked the Doctor, grabbing the arm rests as if prepared to stand. Raven shook her head: James didn’t miss the slant in her scaly brow.

“You stay put, Mister.” She said, crossing into the center of the room. An oval coffee table with a protective glass top sat there and it was on this glass she at last set down the trays. It was then James noticed she’d dressed up slightly for the evening: nothing flashy but the dark collared shirt and skirt combo (with accessories) were a step above her usual attire. Weird. Not necessarily a bad weird; it was New Year’s eve after all. They’d all gone the extra mile in one way or another. Himself more a half than the full but hey, he was among family. If combed hair and a button-down with jeans didn’t fly, why bother staying in? There were more than a few places around accepting that kind of attire. If James wanted to, he could spend a casual night in a smoke-filled bar, entertaining strangers who gawked at his eyes and marveled at his ‘magic tricks.’ Maybe in another life he did just that. The current James, however, would much rather his present company. He fit right in among the mutants and aliens. A soft laugh dropped from his lips and this caught Emily’s attention.

“What are you smirking about?” She asked, a bemused look on her face.

“Hm? Ah nothing. Nothing important.” Emily poked his shoulder. “Come on, you already used that one tonight. Tell me.” James‘ eyebrow stayed put but his smile widened.

“Fine,” he said. “I was thinkin’ how cute you look with your nose all wrinkled.”

“You were not.” Emily said, a touch of color in her cheeks again. She laughed as well now, a laugh she hastened to muffle behind her hand, lest (he guessed) she subject herself to more paternal embarrassment. The Doctor however no longer seemed interested in monitoring their PDA: attention refocused almost solely on Raven. It used to bother James and Emily both—wasn’t there some kind of rule against courting your son’s-girlfriend’s-father? (Or your daughter’s-boyfriend’s-mother?) Ten years really made a world of difference.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Asked the Doctor again when Raven returned to the door. She paused, arms crossed beneath her breasts.

“No. Thank you. I’m just waiting on the boys.”

“Oh yeah?” James chimed in, peering over Emily’s head. “Who’d you rope into helping this time?”

Now it was Raven raising a brow. And people assumed he’d inherited that trait from his father. “Why? Looking for a stand-in while you go crusading across the galaxy?”

Way to play left field there. James blinked, temporarily at a loss for words. If the surrounding silence was any indication, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Wh—no.” He sputtered. “I was just—“ and then he caught the smile playing on her lips. That victorious maternal smile when she knew she’d gotten through to him. “...sorry, mom. Wasn’t fair to leave you alone with the holiday stuff.”

“No it wasn’t,” Raven agreed. She paused, yellow eyes roving from what looked like face to face. “Lucky for you all,” she went on suddenly. “I wasn’t alone.” 

Raven looked to the doorway again. “Logan! You said you were right behind me.”

”I am right behind ya,” came the graveled growl of a one Logan Howlett. James ducked his head as the burly Canadian entered the room. The grin he wore would’ve all-too-easily caught Logan’s eye. Was he too old to call his mom a super-hero? Because damn, the way she commanded their rambunctious rag-tag family suggested nothing less.

“Put the bottles over there,” Raven said, nodding to the coffee table and when she did James noticed he was in fact carrying dark glass bottles. At a glance they all looked like champagne, but that was a lesson James didn’t need relearning: since he could remember, or at least for as long as they’d been close, sparkling cider—the kind free of alcohol—was included for the celebration. This year was no exception and thank goodness for it: he might’ve long since reached drinking age but champagne did no good for a mom-to-be. Half Time Lord or not, they’d agreed to play it safe. Besides, his father didn’t drink either.

Speaking of my dad, where is he? James sat up straighter, clearing his view of the doorway. No sooner did he then in limped Charles Xavier, his dad and apparently another extra set of hands. The older man carried with him several champagne glasses. Okay, that was new. Charles slowed as he crossed through the doorway, glancing shyly at Raven as though waiting for instruction. James’ parents had made as much peace with one another as they could but seeing them work together, when had that started? Or had it already and he in his ‘crusading ’ simply missed it?

“On the table, Charles,” said Raven gently and the elder Xavier bobbed his head. James tried his best not to stare. Charles had gradually emerged from his frightened shell since coming home but guilt and self-loathing, these took longer to overcome. Was ten years the time needed to heal all that? To heal the pain between his parents? James felt a finger that wasn’t his push his chin up. He took the hint, closing his mouth.

‘Thanks for that,’ he told Emily telepathically. He felt that same hand slide across his arm.

‘You’re welcome.’

The last two members of their family—Hank McCoy and Alex Summers—entered soon after. Alex almost immediately on Charles’ heels with the rest of the glasses in tow and Hank a little while later with a pretty but very athletic-looking woman James didn’t recognize.

“Hope it’s alright.” He said to Raven. She smiled, patting his shoulder.

“Of course it is, Hank. You don’t have to ask.” She slipped around him as he led his date towards them, closing the living room door. There was a sense of accomplishment in that, James felt it from his seat: a satisfied finality that now, together at last, they could ring in the new year.

‘All set mom?’ James asked, using his powers again. She looked over at him and though she said nothing at first, she didn’t need to: her eyes spoke volumes by themselves.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m all set, James.’ Then she joined the group right as Logan turned the TV on. Dick Clark’s face materialized before them, preparing for the Count Down as he always did. Some things never changed. For the most part though...for the most part they did and, James decided, watching his family interact, those changes often came for the better.

See you later, ‘87. Can’t wait to see what’s gearing up in 1988.

[shayla-ct0407]

Pirate!Theodosia

So... this is something I whipped up because a very favourite blogger of mine suggested that I do *cough* @menaceanon *cough* and, well, here it is I guess. It’s split into two parts because I got a bit carried away with the scenes and a little too involved with the writing.

Anyways, here goes.

WORD COUNT: 3,453

WARNINGS: Small bit of abuse.

THEME: Pirate!AU because I’m trash af for it

PART: 1 out of 2

There was a sound of children’s laughter that filled the air, joyous and playful as the sound of bare feet ran along the floorboards. An older brother was playing tag with his younger sister, a large grin on both of their faces as the older brother chased his younger sister. They ran through to the kitchen where their mother was making lunch.

 “Watch out, mama!” cried the youngest daughter as she ran in front of her mother to get away from her brother.

 The mother – a beautiful woman with ebony black hair and copper skin – let out a noise of alarm as her children ran amok while she was preparing a meal, nearly causing her to drop what was in her hands as she stumbled back.

 “Children, how many times have I told you,” she chided as she set a bowl of ingredients down on the counter and began to cut them up. “No playing inside. Go play in the garden.”

 A low chuckle came from the doorway and the woman looked up briefly to see her husband enter the room. “Leave them be, my dear. They are young and full of spirit, so allow them to enjoy it while they can.” The husband walked behind the woman as she prepared the food, cutting and dicing with swift movements as the stored the chopped-up ingredients in a separate bowl. “Besides, we’ll have our hands full with a third one in a few months’ time.”

 The husband stood behind his wife as he reached around and gently placed his hands on a cantaloupe sized bump on her stomach. The woman sighed and let her shoulders sag, placing the knife on the counter and turning around on her heel to face the man who had stolen her heart. His hands momentarily left her belly as she moved to face him, only returning to the bump with gentle hands as he rubbed his thumbs over the area.

The woman looked up at her husband, taking in the details of his face like she had done thousands of times before and let out a soft breath of air.

 “I love you,” she muttered, her voice low and quiet. “I love you so much it hurts.”

 A small smile etched itself onto the husband's face as he pulled his wife closer towards him. “And I love you, my dear.”

 They kissed, soft and sweet but the spark of their desire for one another was still there, burning brightly as if it would never die and flicker out.

*****

 “Theodosia, are you listening?”

 The sharp voice ripped Theodosia from her daydream, the fantasy of a domestic and simpler life fading away and going out of reach. She stood aboard The Ocean’s Plague, a pirate ship the size of a schooner as Theodosia stared out the back window in the captain’s quarters, watching the ship drift along the ocean waves, no land for miles to see. Her hands were behind her back as she eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the reality she so desperately wanted to escape from. Theodosia let out a small sigh.

 “Aye, I’m listening, sir.” The tone of her voice was hard but tired as if she wanted to be anywhere else then where she was.

 “Then repeat what I just said.” The captain of the ship, Jacques Marcus Prevost, looked expectantly at the woman before him, and eyebrow raised as he waited for her answer, suspecting she hadn’t paid attention to what he had said.

 Theodosia let out another sigh as she took a deep breath. “You were telling me the plan for the sugar plantation warehouse in which you were hoping to raid.”

 “Good,” Caption Prevost grunted, standing up as he straightened his posture and began to walk around his desk, the sound of the floorboards creaking under his weight. “Now what is the plan?”

 Theodosia mentally cursed herself as she pursed her lips and shut her eyes, bowing her head in shame to show the captain that she had not listened to him.

 “I do not know, sir,” she muttered, her voice low but still audible. “I hadn’t heard it.”

 Now it was the captain’s turn to sigh as he groaned and shook his head. “And why is that?”

 Theodosia opened her eyes as she exhaled. “Because… I…” She was lost for words, not able to come up with an appropriate excuse as to why she had ignored him in the first place.

 However, the captain had a brief theory as to explain Theodosia’s actions, and it wasn’t the first time she had done it.

 “You were thinking of life beyond that of a pirate’s.” The captain stood directly behind Theodosia as he made his statement. “You were picturing what it would be like if you weren’t standing right here, right now.”

 Theodosia remained silent, and the captain took her silence as a way of her confirming his theory. He let out a loud sigh.

 “My dear, why would you ever think of a life like that?” he questioned, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s dull and boring and there’s no excitement in it.”

 Theodosia lifted her head and whipped around to face the captain, her braid nearly hitting him in the face as he removed his hands from her shoulders and placed them by his side.

 “Well, it’s the kind of life that I want, Jacques!” Theodosia exclaimed, her voice rising in volume slightly as she used his proper name. “I want a life that’s dull and boring, nothing like the one that I’ve got now. I want a life that’s simpler, more domesticated, not a life that has me killing and stealing from people and constantly on the run from the law.”

 Captain Prevost clenched his jaw as his stare hardened. They had had this argument several times before, and quite frankly, it was getting tiring hearing the same thing repeatedly.

 “We’ve discussed this, Theodosia,” the captain said, his tone low and sounding slightly irritated as he kept himself calm. “As my wife, you are to stay by my side and live this life with me. Whether you like it or not.”

 “I am not some animal that you can just keep on a leash!” Theodosia spat. “I am a human being, and I have the right to live my own life as I please.”

 “For God’s sake!” Jacques' voice rose as he got more agitated at his wife’s attitude. “You are a woman, Theodosia. You have no right to anything and you have no say in what you can and cannot do with your life. Your life is here with me on this ship and you will follow my orders no matter what I say.”

 “I am entitled to control over my own actions!” Theodosia snapped, refusing to hold back her anger. "And to Hell with whatever you say about—“

 A sudden force cut Theodosia off as Captain Prevost grabbed her roughly by the collar and shoved her up against the window, his grip tight as he held her in place, their faces only mere centimetres away from each other.

 “Shut. Your mouth.” Jacques spat, his voice low and threatening as his hot breath blew on Theodosia’s face, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “You are to follow my orders and comply without question. You are to remain here on this ship as a member of my crew and as my wife until you die, and you are not allowed to question my authority any further. Is that clear?”

 There was a silence in the room between the captain as his reluctant wife, the only sounds were the footsteps of the other crew members and the passing of the waves as the ship sailed onward, the masts creaking faintly. Theodosia could feel her heart rate increasing and beating faster than normal as she was pinned up against the window, not daring to make any sudden movements as she faced her husband. She kept a brave face on, but inside, she was terrified of what he might do with the right motivation.

 Theodosia remained silent, which only aggravated the captain more. “I said: Is. That. CLEAR?!”

 Theodosia flinched as Captain Prevost screamed in her face, droplets of spit flying out of his mouth as Theodosia shut her eyes and pursed her lips, holding her breath.

 “Yes, sir. Crystal clear,” Theodosia whimpered, trying to make herself as small as possible.

 Captain Prevost let out a satisfied sigh. “Good.” He released his grip on Theodosia and straightened his coat as Theodosia opened her eyes, fear reflecting in them as she avoided eye contact with the captain. “Now, we’re going to go over the plan, so pay attention this time. Understand?”

 Theodosia just nodded, refusing to move from where she stood. Captain Prevost rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh as he wandered back around the other side of his desk. Theodosia let out the breath she had been holding, her breathing was shaky and uneven, but she did her best to control it.

There was no escaping her husband’s tyrannous rule, and Theodosia wanted more than anything to get away, but she knew that there was no chance of escaping.

The night was warm as a full moon lit up the night sky, accompanied by the stars that flickered and danced peacefully. Theodosia and a group of seven other men were huddled in the shadows of the trees behind a line of bushes as they scouted the sugar plantation in which they were to raid. However, there wasn’t much to scout. The sugar plantation had looked almost deserted at a first glance, but upon closer inspection, torches were lit around the place and there was some movement in the buildings from silhouettes moving past windows. Theodosia had found it slightly suspicious as sugar plantations would usually have more guards patrolling around the place and still some slaves working in the fields.

Something didn’t add up, and a nagging feeling at the back of Theodosia’s mind kept telling her to get out while she still could, but she ignored it.

 After looking at the semi-deserted plantation, Theodosia turned around to face the pirates who were aiding in the mission. “So, here’s what we’ll do,” Theodosia whispered, picking up a stick and beginning to draw a square on the ground, the crew members watching intently. “We’ll split into three groups: two groups of two, and one group of three. One group will flank left, and one the will flank right. The group of three will spread out along the tree line and watch for any sudden movement, and if anything is to happen that will jeopardise the mission, they’re to whistle and warn the rest of us.” She drew a line and three circles spread out evenly along the line to symbolise the three pirates who would stand and watch.

“The other two groups will flank their appropriate ways and sneak in to steal the warehouse key and make their way to the sugar plantation warehouse, where they’ll unlock it and start hauling the goods.” Theodosia drew two circles on either side of the square with arrows directing where the groups would go. “Once you’ve got enough goods piled up, make an owl noise and signal the last group to make their way to the warehouse where start we’ll taking stuff back to the ship.” Theodosia set down the stick once she had completed her diagram and looked up at the six men. “Does anyone have any questions?”

 For a moment, no one said anything, until a voice at the back piped up. “Yeah, I have one. Why are we taking orders from a woman?”

 Theodosia glanced to the back of the group to see a scrawny, greasy red-headed boy who looked just under eighteen with enough acne and oil on his face to light a lantern. He had a long, pointed nose and slight buck teeth with a gap between his two front teeth, and he dressed like he tried to make himself look intimidating but failed miserably. To Theodosia, he looked like a greasy rat in over-sized clothing.

 “And just who might you be?” Theodosia asked, cocking an eyebrow at the boy.

 The boy smirked smugly as he adjusted his jacket. “The name’s Vince Cragg, but everyone calls me Ratface.”

 Ratface. How fitting.

 Theodosia showed off an obvious fake smile. “Well then, Ratface.” She spoke his name as if it was acid on her tongue, and in the blink of an eye, before anyone could comprehend what had happened, Theodosia unsheathed her dagger that she kept at her belt and held it at Ratface’s throat, just above his Adam’s apple.

 Ratface recoiled slightly as his eyes were suddenly panic stricken as he looked as if he was about to piss himself, his smug demeanour instantly falling away as the tip of the dagger was just millimetres away from piercing his skin. Theodosia’s expression was hard and unreadable, her eyes looked black in the faint moonlight as her body language was alert and ready to pounce, like a predator with its prey. It was rare to see a woman such as Theodosia like this, but when you did, it was a terrifying sight to see.

 None of the other crew members dared to make a move on Theodosia as she aimed her dagger at Ratface’s throat. “The reason you’re taking orders from a woman,” she spoke in a haunting and calm tone, unable to tell if she was about to burst or not. “Is because I’m the most qualified one here to not screw things up, unlike a miserable seadog like you who is bound to be too clumsy and get us all killed.” Theodosia’s words hissed in the darkness, careful not to be too loud as to alert the enemy of their position. “So that’s why you’ll be staying behind and keeping watch, God forbid you mess that up, because if you do, your head will be on a spike, courtesy of me and a warning to never underestimate a woman. Clear?”

 Ratface just nodded feverishly. “Yes, ma’am,” he squeaked.

 “Wonderful.” Theodosia removed her dagger from Ratface’s throat and sheathed it. “Now, everyone, move out.”

The plan over before it even began.

As Theodosia and three other crew members paired up and split down opposite sides of the plantation, they were unaware of the spies who had been hiding further in the trees, listening in on the plan. Once Theodosia and the three pirates had moved away, the spies ambushed the pirates who had stayed behind – Ratface included – and knocked them out, disarming them and dragging their bodies away.

Oblivious as to what had happened, Theodosia and her partner silently snuck their way around the left of the plantation, using the shadows to their advantage and knocking out anyone who deemed a threat to their mission, which was nearly no one. However, Theodosia still hated it. She had never wanted to hurt anybody, which is why she didn’t kill any of the people they knocked out. She had even felt a small pang of guilt from holding the dagger at Ratface’s throat, but she tried to brush it off and focus on the task at hand, ignoring that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was still wrong about this place and the fact that barely any guards had been seen.

Something wasn’t right, but Theodosia wasn’t going to sit around and wait to figure out what it was.

As they neared the warehouse where all the sugar was assumingly being kept, the other group that had flanked right caught up with Theodosia and her partner as they positioned themselves at the back entrance of the warehouse.

 “Okay,” Theodosia exhaled as tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get the key?”

 One of the pirates nodded and held up a brass key that shone faintly in the moonlight. So far, everything had gone to plan and Theodosia let out a breath of relief, although there was a twisted feeling in her gut that she always had when she did something like this. She hated stealing and living the life of a pirate, it was something she despised and wished she was never a part of. However, years ago, when she had first met Jacques, he had charmed her with promising her a more fulfilling life than the one Theodosia was previously living, and she couldn’t seem to refuse. So, and with her young naïve mind, they eloped together and fell too fast in love. Only then did Theodosia find out that her newly wedded husband was a pirate and had taken her from the only home she had known.

It was one of her biggest regrets.

Now, she had pillaged, killed and done unspeakable things that she wished she had never done, and there seemed to be no way of escaping from it. Her devil of a husband had kept her on a short leash and controlled most her life that she wished she could have control of herself. So here she stood, about to rob a sugar plantation, which she knew wasn’t the first and certainly wasn’t the last.

Theodosia and the other three pirates snuck towards the warehouse, their movements quick and swift as they moved under the cover of darkness. They each moved with haste as they reached the back door to the warehouse, the pirate with the key moving forward and slowly unlocking the door so that they could get in. With slow and cautious movements, Theodosia went in first, her senses alert as she scanned the area to make sure the coast was clear. The other three pirates followed suit after Theodosia as they shut the door behind them, throwing off any signs that they were inside.

 “Right.” Theodosia straightened her posture and spoke clearly, letting her guard down. “Start gathering the sugar and anything else that looks of value. Dunway, head back outside and signal for—“

 A sudden thundering of feet cut off Theodosia as men in red coats jumped out from behind boxes and crates, some even jumping from the roof beams and landing with their weapons raised, aimed at pirates who had invaded the plantation. Theodosia froze with her hands curled into fists by her sides, taking a step back as her and the other three pirates crowded together, the red coats surrounded them. Their weapons aimed at the pirates’ throats as the tip of the bayonet was just millimetres away from slitting Theodosia’s neck.

They had been ambushed.

Theodosia’s heart thudded against her ribcage as her jaw clenched, her stare hardening as she scanned the crowd of British soldiers. Theodosia counted about twenty soldiers in the room, each of them alert and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Theodosia hissed a curse and took a deep breath, slowly raising her arms to her head.

 “Weapons on the ground!” a soldier commanded, not removing his bayonet from Theodosia’s throat. “And keep your hands where we can see them.”

 Reluctantly, the other three pirates showed signs of surrender, tossing their weapons on the ground as they raised their hands above their head. Theodosia remained motionless, not breaking under the pressure and showing as much resistance as she could in the situation.

 “I said: weapons on the ground. Now,” the soldier ordered, barking like a mad dog and spit flying out of his mouth.

 With a heavy sigh, Theodosia cautiously moved her hand to take her dagger out of its sheath and tossed it on the ground in front of her. It was the only weapon Jacques would allow her to have because he didn’t trust that she was capable with any other weapon, and she needed to defend herself somehow.

Theodosia quickly glanced at the weapon she had discarded on the ground, it’s blade reflecting the moonlight peeking in from a hole in the roof. Theodosia could’ve put up a fight, she could’ve taken her dagger and thrown it at one of the red coats and started fighting for her life, but she was dangerously outgunned and outmanned, and she would be dead in seconds. Begrudgingly, Theodosia tore her gaze from her weapon as the men in red coats advanced on the pirates and handcuffed them, the shackles hanging heavily from Theodosia's wrists as they yanked her out of the warehouse.

She knew this too easy and she should’ve listened to that nagging feeling at the back of mind, telling her to run, telling her to get out of there while she still could. There’s was no way to reverse it now, and she had to suffer with the consequences.

A/N: And there we have it. I hope it’s alright and not too horrible. I have a big soft spot for Pirate!AU’s and this was actually a lot of fun to write. I’m working on the second part as fast as possible and will hopefully have it up in the next few days or so, depending on my load of school work and whatnot.

Feedback is appreciated as well, and so is constructive criticism. 

Have a lovely day ya’ll!

[batwynn]

Sibylline Song