#or some other factor like a betrothal

[dirtytransmasc]

... she never made an effort... she only ever furthered herself from her siblings... she only made herself look like a threat, having it made clear viserys would always favor her, protecting her lies at the risk of others, after abandoning her mother when she needed her most, and used and lied to her, hurting her more than she already was from Viserys, for her own benefit (not to mention her manipulative father buried those thoughts deep in her mind while she was still a CHILD herself)... she had every reason to "hate" (fear) Rhaenyra and in her attempts to protect her children, extend that fear/hatred to them. even then, outside of Aemond (justifiably, considering she felt entitled to his eye and wanted to have him tortured) none of them even really hated her until the dance, at the very most, they felt resentful because their father loved her 10x more than he loved all 4 (including Daeron) of them combined, and at the very least, they felt nothing as she was never there, never mattered to their lives outside of court and politics.

this take is shit. Rhaenyra never cared. she never wanted her siblings in her life. she felt entitled to Aemond's eye, and you want to tell me she gave a shit, not even enough to spare her 10 year old brother, over an insult?

(and before you bring up her call for her siblings to come bend the knee, we know how she can kiss up and lie through her teeth in times of need, her words hold little backing. see it as truth if you want, but I can't trust it, not with how she's acted previously.)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Devil in a Dark Wood

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader Historical AU

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): Witch AU, Historical AU, early colonial America, Puritanism, biblical themes & scripture, suggestive themes, brief descriptions of injury, arranged marriage, loss of virginity, brief descriptions of sex, horror/suspense

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Requested by @ferns-fics for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Witch AU) A/N (2): Enjoy my religious trauma!

Arriving to new shores a married woman, you find happiness with the man you're betrothed to without ever first meeting him. But beyond the place you call home is a dark wood. And in that dark wood, something waits for the perfect opportunity.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Pendle, Massachusetts, Late April, 1662

The earth speaks to you.

Back home, the ground is alive with the song of faeries, elves dwell within the trees, and kelpies call from the waters. Nature is alive there. A buzzing that wraps around all living things.

But it is different here in the New World.

Here—there is an echo. There are no nymphs. No sweet songs to lull the wayward wanderer into dancing.

There are teeth here. Teeth in the dirt. Teeth in the bark of the trees.

And a thrumming.

A thrumming that sounds like a thunderous heartbeat.

You hear your name. It is called like a command by a stern, male voice. Eyes opening, you disconnect from the unyielding noise of the ground, and focus on the man in front of you.

A man of the cloth. Reverend Shepherd—if the letter in your haversack is correct.

There is no smile on his face but a sternness etched into every crease and wrinkle. His mouth is a thin line turned downwards, with a balding head, and a slight swell to his belly that reminds you of the one your father grew when he began favoring drink.

Your father.

The reason you’re here.

The reason you stand on the very edge of the New World a newly married woman.

"Reverend Shepherd?" you ask, inclining your head in submission.

The motion is painful. You are not like him. You are not like the people who have settled here. You were raised to be wild and barefoot. Raised by a woman who taught you to listen. To put your ear to the ground. To sense the world sitting just on the other side.

“Child,” he says, gaze narrowing. “Your hair.”

Frowning, you reach up. Some of your hair pokes out from beneath your white cap. “Pray pardon me,” you murmur, discreetly tucking it back.

“I am Reverend Shepherd,” he confirms with a brief nod. “I bid you welcome to Pendle.”

“Thank you, Reverend.”

“And the journey?”

“Pleasant,” you reply, keeping your gaze downcast. “Calm seas.”

“A blessed crossing then. God’s favor came with you. Pray that it stays.”

Your stomach twists at the jab. It is clear what Reverend Shepherd means. You are an outsider. An unknown factor. A disciple that he believes may not fall in line. God’s chosen are already here, and you do not belong.

“Are you to be my escort?”

“Indeed,” he sighs as if the notion bothers him. “And we have much yet to walk. God favors a quick step. We best be off.”

Clutching the haversack to your chest, you nod. “Of course, Reverend.”

This is just an exchange, a way for your father to rid himself of you and to pay off his drinking debts. Your father is no man of God. Wives are needed in the New World. The crown paid handsomely to bring you and other women to these shores.

Grief is a sour thing.

It is a weight upon the living.

Your mother, a woman so wonderful that the world couldn’t contain her, sent herself up to the stars, leaving you with only your father for company.

He is just a man.

Simple. Kind.

And then a poison.

Grief wove its way between bone and blood until he no longer wanted to see your face. The remembrance pained him. And that pain led to long nights away, only for him to return with liquor on the breath and empty pockets.

It is why you were sent away, why you were sent far across the sea. Sold off to a husband you’ve never met. All because of a man who cannot control his grief.

How will your memory be written?

Are you simply your father’s daughter in the King’s ledger? Not even a name. Just…daughter.

Perhaps. That is how it is after all. A history of a woman is rarely written.

Reverend Shepherd turns away and starts walking. You almost slip in the mud as you follow. He passes the docks, moving further away from the center of Pendle.

“Are we not to stay in town?”

“In town?” Reverend Shepherd’s frown deepens. “No, child. Your husband lives beyond the township.”

“How far, pray tell? Are we not to take horses?” you ask, a little breathless.

Reverend Shepherd scoffs. "Why should you require such a convenience? Walking allows for reflection and penance. Do you know your prayers?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Child?” prompts Reverend Shepherd.

“I do,” you nearly bite out.

“Let me hear them. A good wife can recite the Lord’s prayers when prompted. Scripture will help us pass the time.”

As the two of you walk, your voice becomes monotone, reciting but not listening. Every word is like an empty scallop shell. Mud sucks at your boots, threatening to relieve you of your shoes. Reverend Shepherd remains ahead. Never slowing down. Always keeping a few paces forward.

“Good,” says Reverend Shepherd. “Now, I shall begin and you shall continue. I have no master but You. Now law but Your—”

“You’ve yet to speak of my husband,” you interrupt, frustration growing by the lack of information.

It’s not in you to be obedient, especially around bothersome men.

Reverend Shepherd turns abruptly, the middle of his brow creased in severe displeasure. “Prayer, child. I have no master—”

“His name, Reverend. At least allow me that.”

“Disobedience of woman is an act against God. Your father assured me of your obedience. Of your purity and piety. Is he mistaken?”

Yes. I do not belong here.

“He is not,” you mutter.

Reverend Shepherd holds your gaze until you turn yours downward. When he sets out again, you scowl at the back of his head, reciting perfectly all that you were taught before departing for different shores.

Outside Pendle, the road twists between clumps of trees. Farms stand between, but Reverend Shepherd stops at none of them. He rattles off scripture, keeping his back to you as he does so. It only dampens your mood.

"The Lord is my—"

At the bend in the road, you pause your recitations. A peaceful buzzing surfaces up from the ground, slithering into the soles of your feet, traveling upward into the crown of your head. A sturdy wooden fence lines the road, sectioning off the homestead from travelers. The main gate sits open, a dirt path leading inward toward the cottage. Corn lines the path, and you hear the gentle bleat of a goat in the distance.

Reverend Shepherd turns, his mouth pursed in annoyance.

"Pray pardon, Reverend," you say before the chastisement can leave his lips. "Is this..."

The irritation retreats slightly, his gaze turning passive. "Is it home? Indeed." Reverend Shepherd glances across the farmstead. "The Riley family owns this land. The eldest son, Simon, tends to it."

Simon.

Your husband's name.

Only a name. Nothing else.

The entire journey across the sea was rife with your swirling imagination. What kind of man did your father sell you off to? What might he look like?

Reverend Shepherd presses on. "The younger son lives in town."

You don't reply. It's best not to. Women are expected to be seen and not heard, and you have already overstepped your limits.

Following at the proper distance, you keep silent. Reverend Shepherd walks quickly, eager to be rid of you.

The thwack of an axe piercing wood echoes in the air, drowning out the bleating goats. You clutch the haversack against your chest, the weight of it finally catching up, arms heavy with the load. Reverend Shepherd moves with purpose, following the sound of the thwack and the subsequent clatter of splitting wood.

Beyond the cottage, divided by another wooden fence, is the forest. The trees are tall, towering over everything, pointing toward the grey sky like arrow points. From them, you hear whispers, faint and unclear. A soft chill cools your skin, and you shiver, the whispers disappearing as you and Reverend Shepherd walk around the side of the cottage.

The two of you come to a stop next to a large pile of wood.

Before you is a man with no shirt or doublet to be seen. His back is to the both of you, and your breath catches at seeing so much bare skin. Old scars mark his flesh, yet you're unsure if they're from some accident or from grislier means. The man's shoulders are broad, giving way to muscled arms and a tall frame. Of what you can observe, his figure is thick, honed from hard labor.

Lifting the axe above his head, he brings it down on the log in front of him. The wood splits cleanly.

"Simon." Reverend Shepherd's voice is smooth with authority.

At the sound of his voice, Simon straightens as if struck. Just his head turns, glancing over his shoulder, gaze sweeping over Reverend Shepherd and then landing on you. His eyes widen slightly, and then he fully pivots in your direction, giving you a clear view of his face.

Simon has scars here but they only add to his features. He is handsome with a strong jaw and prominent nose, and his eyes are a golden brown that remind you of sun rays through amber. The hair on his head is slightly askew from the gentle wind.

"Reverend," greets Simon.

While your husband addresses Shepherd, his gaze is entirely fixed on you. There is no smile, but there isn't a frown. You're unsure of Simon's first impression or what he might be thinking.

"Your wife arrived."

Reverend Shepherd makes you out to be little more than an object. A thing delivered.

"Thank you for escorting her here," replies Simon. "Had I known, I would have fetched her myself."

Reverend Shepherd holds up a hand. "Think nothing of it. The Lord values hard work, and her delivery is but His reward for all you do."

The corner of Simon's mouth twitches. He's still holding on to the axe. "Allow me to see you off, Reverend."

"I can see myself. A blessed day to you, Simon. And to an... easy marriage."

Easy. Obedient. Subservient.

You are to bow your head and grovel at your husband's feet for the rest of your days.

"God go with you, Reverend," replies Simon, taking a step forward in your direction.

The two of you silently watch Reverend Shepherd disappear beyond the cottage and down the path. Neither of you speaks, the air heavy with an unresolved tension. The wind kicks up, and you smell pine. A goat bleats, and you shift on your feet.

"Good morrow, Simon," you murmur, arms tightening around the haversack.

Simon blinks, shoulders relaxing, a warm smiling spreading across his face. It's genuine—full of kindness. Even the edges of his cheeks darken with color.

"Good morrow," he replies. "I—" He glances down at himself. "Forgive me. My appearance is unbecoming. Not how a husband greets his wife upon their first meeting."

You take in all the exposed skin and an itch forms in the tips of your fingers. A carnal desire floods upward, seizing your heart and mind. The urge you feel begs you to touch, to step forward and run your hands over that slick flesh. This man is your husband now. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him.

The Reverend would beat these thoughts out of you if he could read your mind.

But he cannot. The Good Reverend isn't here.

And your husband is half-undressed and blushing before you.

"Unexpected," you say slowly. "But nice."

His blush deepens.

Perhaps God has sent you someone you can be yourself with. Not completely,as any mention of the voices from the trees or the teeth in the ground would send you straight to a pyre, but someone who might listen. Truly, kindness and patience are all you want. If Simon is that, then you'll be happy.

Flustered further, Simon glances around like he can't quite look at you. Running his fingers through his hair with his free hand, he finally settles, resting the axe against the stump.

"I should bathe," he says, but not in response to you, more like he's simply speaking to the air.

You take a step forward, moving toward him, taking in more of his muscles. It is clear he has not been without. His largeness isn't from hard labor alone. Simon is eating well and often.

"Allow me." In seconds, Simon is before you, hands grasping the haversack.

"Thank you," you murmur softly as he tucks your belongings under his arm like it weighs nothing at all.

"Would you like to stay here? I won't be long."

"Where are you off to?"

Simon heads for the cottage and you follow. "Just on the other side of the fence is a stream."

You glance beyond the fence line. "May I join you?"

Somehow, Simon's face grows brighter. "I—join me?"

"The ship—"

"Of course," he says quickly. "I imagine there are few opportunities to bathe aboard a vessel. Fewer even for privacy."

You follow Simon to the door of the cottage. He enters but you linger a moment, hesitation halting your momentum.

Like a thunderous stampede, reality comes crashing down around you. There is no ship take you back. No mornings spent in the mist. This place is your home now, this man responsible for you until your death or his.

Simon emerges, shirt on but doublet unbuttoned. In his arms is a small basket. "This way," he says with a grin.

At the back of the property, Simon opens up a small gate and leads you to the stream. The forest is just beyond. Now that you're closer to the towering trees, that thrumming from earlier returns, and a sense of gnashing as if a wolf nips at your heels comes with it. Your gaze narrows as a dark shape moves between the trees. It is tall, and at first, you mistake it for another tree. Whispers rise up again, and is that—horns?

"I do not know your name."

You inhale sharply, hand pressed to your chest as Simon holds the small basket in front of him. You tell him, and then glance back at the forest.

"Something amiss?" he asks, matching your stare.

"No—I." You lick your lips. "The forest feels strange."

Simon nods. "It is. Most avoid it."

"Do you?"

Simon shakes his head. "No. Rosie always wanders off. Wish she'd just go down the road to John's but she favors the forest."

"Rosie?"

Simon laughs. "Apologies. Rosie is one of the goats."

"I see," you giggle.

"She’s a sweet thing. Sanderson favors her."

"Is that another goat?" you ask with a smile, reaching back to untie your apron.

"It is. John gave him to me as a kid. Raised him myself. He's a strong buck now. Hates everyone but me." He shrugs, and then leans forward as if to tell you a juicy secret. "Once bit Reverend Shepherd in the arse."

You burst out laughing, and then quickly cover your mouth. "I should not. God will punish me."

Simon's grin is wide and sweet. "In death, maybe. But as your husband, it's my responsibility to punish you."

"And pray tell, what would befit such a punishment?" you tease, undoing the buttons of your waistcoat.

Simon's smile falters, his gaze lingering on your chest. Your waistcoat hangs open, and the ties at the top of your shift are loose, revealing bare skin. Simon swallows, clearly enraptured by this small reveal of flesh.

A nervousness slips in, but it's not fear. A desire swirls low in your belly, a feeling you haven't felt since you were a young woman and a village boy you favored gifted you flowers.

This is your husband. He will know all of you eventually. You will share the same bed and give him as many children as your body is capable of. There is no need to be nervous.

"Simon?" you prompt, removing your waistcoat.

He coughs, clears his throat. "You're correct. The forest is strange. You are not to go in unless I'm with you." His change in demeanor briefly startles you.

"Is it dangerous?"

Simon shakes his head. "No. But folks in town are…fearful of what they don't understand. I don't want—I don't want anyone believing things about you that aren't true."

Witch.

"Why would they?" you whisper.

Witch.

"There's a tree,” continues Simon. “Large. Dark bark. Not like any other tree in the forest. At least none that we've seen. Reverend Shepherd and his wife wanted it cut down. Said it was a sign of the Devil. But Pendle's blacksmith took axe to tree. The blade broke upon impact. Not a scratch on the bark." Simon sighs and offers you soap from the basket. "Rosie tends to wander near it."

"Woods always hold strange things. Might be a nearby plant she likes chewing on."

"Perhaps. But I'll go after her if she does. It's not a place for you."

The water in the stream is incredibly clear, flowing steadily. Simon produces two washing cloths, offering you one before taking his, dipping it into the stream. It is not truly bathing, but it is refreshing, the cool water a calming entity against the slight burning beneath your skin.

There is silence afterward, and once clean, the two of you return to the cottage. Simon shows you your new home, already built to accommodate a family. There is a small barn for the animals, and coop for the chickens. You meet Rosie, an all-white beauty that constantly chews on your apron. Sanderson is big, black beast of a buck with grey horns curled backward and away from his head with eyes so pale they’re almost white.

Sanderson does not bite you, but he follows Simon around the homestead, lightly tapping Simon’s outer thigh with his horn like he wants attention.

The first night—that very night—Simon does not touch you. At least, not at first. He allows you your space, keeping his distance. But he observers silently, his gaze lingering on those flashes of bare skin. There is nothing harmful in his gaze, only a deep appreciation, and a longing you can’t quite place.

From what you were told to prepare you for this moment, you expect Simon to flop on top of you. For you to remain silent and still. To thank him afterward whether or not you enjoyed yourself.

Simon is patient. He is gentle. And above all, kind.

“May I touch you?”

You slip into bed in nothing but your shift. Simon is without, only wearing loose breeches that have seen better years.

You curl up next to Simon, facing him. Reaching out, Simon’s fingers lightly brush the curve of your bottom lip and then your jaw. Descending, his fingers find your throat. Then collarbone. He traces the neckline of your shift, and then his fingers tangle in the ties at the front, pulling them loose until your shift opens further.

“Do I tread too far?” he asks, softly.

His touch is awakening something. You sense a tingling, coiling outward.

“No,” you reply. “Continue.”

Simon’s hand slips between shift and your body. His palm is warm, and then he’s guiding it over one shoulder, exposing it to the cool air. Leaning in, Simon’s lips press to the curve of the joint. It is a small thing, but this one bit of contact causes you to shiver, for the tingling to further travel outward.

As he draws back, you tilt your head. Then it is Simon kissing you, and you accepting him. He is not forceful here. There is no claiming. It is exploration, and you find yourself reaching out, hands gliding over his chest.

He is all hardness, and yet nothing about him terrifies. Strength resides within him, but he is ever so gentle. Taking his time. Savoring.

The shift lowers as Simon pulls it downward. He palms one breast, and you gasp, breaking the kiss.

With a soft groan, Simon’s head dips, trailing kisses along your neck, moving over collarbone, descending down until his mouth explores the valley between your breasts, and then further still.

The tingling explodes outward into the tips of your fingers and toes. You are buzzing—the restlessness of the world coming with you.

The shift is over your hips. Down your thighs.

Gone.

Utterly gone.

Your legs part as Simon continues to trail kisses downward. His hands squeeze your thighs, and then he’s kissing you between your legs, lingering there as the buzzing ascends into a crackling that sucks all air from your lungs.

“Simon,” you gasp, fisting his hair.

He abruptly lifts his head, lips shiny in the light of the hearth. “Have I harmed you?”

Harmed you? No. Hardly.

“No,” you gasp. “I—this is unexpected.”

Simon places a kiss to the inside of your thigh before leaning on an elbow. “My understanding came from observing the farm animals.” A small smile spreads across his face. “But after service one Sunday, Reverend Shepherd rounded up all the unwed men. Told us the King was sending us wives.”

“Were you happy when he told you?”

“No,” chuckles Simon, absently stroking your thigh. “I was scared.”

“And now?”

“Still scared.”

“Do I terrify you?”

Simon gives a small shake of his head. “No. I am scared of how my heart feels.” You gently place your hand against his cheek. Simon turns into the touch. “Reverend Shepherd explained. Made this sound like a duty. A chore.” He sighs. “But I do not see how.”

Shifting, Simon drapes himself over you, gaze intense. “My heart is full but my mind is confused. God demands duty but I see no duty here.” He closes the distance, lips brushing over yours. “A wife is not a chore.”

Your fingers find the band of his breeches. They surrender easily under your touch. Legs widening, Simon settles between. There is a small tangle—a clumsy back and forth as the two of you adjust. It stings at first, but quickly fades, leaving you boneless as your bodies meet repeatedly.

You whisper his name, and Simon groans yours.

He shudders, burying his face against your next. Warmth and wetness blooms in your womb. You tangle yourself around him, holding Simon close.

Inside your chest, something cracks. Splits. Fractures.

Part of you believes it is just this moment between husband and wife, but a whisper runs beneath, and a slithering like that of a serpent. The forest is creeping in—pushing in. Making room where there is none.

But it is quick, and it is fleeting.

It is after the first night that the two of you truly begin to explore. Simon starts with simple touches, and you accept them all, wanting to understand to be close to someone. He is happy you’re here with him, and you’re happy to be his.

Unlike the rest of the men in town, Simon listens, and values your opinion. His jokes are terrible, and his willingness to subvert and ignore Reverend Shepherd’s doctrine makes him the pariah. The only time the two of you make it into town is for Sunday service, and while townsfolk are friendly, they don’t interact with him unless they have to.

Between it all, you help out on the farm, tending to the animals, and whispering sweet encouragement to the crops when Simon isn’t looking. They all flourish under your care, the land bountiful and beautiful. When others suffer, you and Simon’s land remains strong and steadfast. He is quick to share in the wealth—to take care of others.

A home is built.

Love flourishes.

And for three years, life is peaceful.

The forest hardly whispers. The teeth do not gnash. There is quiet in the wood, and you see no glance of horns.

Simon's hand rests upon your stomach. He turns on his side, pressing a kiss to a spot just above your navel. As he descends, you playfully shove his head away.

"I cannot," you laugh. "I am sore everywhere."

Simon grins and then pushes up, stealing a kiss before rolling over you and heading to the mantel above the hearth. Retrieving his bible, Simon returns, settling back in beside you. The leather cover is worn in places.

His gaze takes in your nakedness. “Stay like that for me.”

You are uncovered and bare before him. Simon’s seed rests heavy between your thighs.

Opening the bible does not result in reading scripture. Simon picks up a charcoal stick. Turning the bible vertically, Simon starts to sketch.

Neither of you read from it. There is nothing to be read. The pages are covered with Simon’s sketches. Most of them are of you—of pieces of you—even the place that is well-loved even now. There are less lewd images etches across the parchment. All of the animals are there. So is the cottage.

If someone—anyone—were to discover these drawings, they’d blame you.

A hex. A curse. A spell.

You have turned him from God.

But Simon doesn’t think so, and you care not. God has given you nothing but this man. Everything the two of you are is only because of the effort and love the two of you have brought. God did nothing but drop you at Simon’s feet.

You thank Him for it, but nothing else. And if that will send you into hellfire, then that is where you will reside.

In silence, you observe your husband. Simon’s gaze darts from the page to you and back again. His bottom lip is between his teeth, and the middle of his brow is creased with concentration. You remain as you are until he turns the bible around to show you.

There you are, sketched over a page of Leviticus.

“Your talents are lost on farming.”

Simon chuckles and then he closes the bible, placing it upon the small bedside table before returning to you. His hands explore, reaching. Then you're opening again, allowing him in.

Sleep is peaceful, and Simon does not wake you in the morning when he leaves to check on the animals.

It is his firm hand shaking you awake.

“Simon?” You rub at your eyes, yawning.

“Rosie is gone.”

“Again,” you groan, digging around in the bedding to find your discarded shift. “That’s the third time this week, Simon.” Finding it, you slip it over your head, retrieving your stockings.

“Keep finding her near the tree.”

A whisper of a voice brushes against your ear and you swat at it like a pesky fly.

You frown. “All three times?”

Simon sighs, and nods. “I’ll go for a look.” Kissing the top of your head, Simon retrieves his musket. “Be back before supper.”

Simon does not come back before supper.

The food grows cold.

And when it’s entirely dark, and the whispers from the wood become overwhelming, you take a lantern, and rush up to road to John Price’s homestead.

John takes a horse to town. Returns with a small party of men.

“It’s best you not go with us. Won’t know what we’ll find.”

“He’s my husband, John. I’m going.”

With lanterns lit, and hunting dogs are your heels, you enter the woods.

The moon is swallowed up as if eaten by a beast, plunging everything around you into utter darkness. The only light you have is that of your lantern and of the other lanterns carried by the menfolk.

And yet, it does not seem like enough.

The darkness here is eternal, and all around you is a dreadful silence.

“Simon!”

“Can you hear us, Simon!”

The only response is the echoing of your collective voices. No insect buzzing. No owls hoot. Nothing scurries underfoot. Even the leaves and twigs you step on are absent of sound.

The forest is consuming, eating away all noise until the only thing you hear are the thoughts in your head.

At the back of the pack, you do not see the tree. Don’t hear the cries for help.

It isn’t until John is approaching you, urging you away that you know something is wrong. Dreadfully and utterly wrong.

There are teeth in the New World. Teeth in the ground.

Jaws. A maw.

It has eaten your heart.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Licked the tips of its fingers.

The forest has devoured. Consumed your husband for a meal.

Reverend Sheperd prays for three days over Simon's body. When he leaves, the women gather around you. Each day, one or two depart, and by the end of the second week, there is no one but you holding vigil.

Simon does not stir though his breathing remains steady. The town likely whispers of the Devil's work, that Simon's long sleep is a curse.

Do they blame you?

Perhaps.

Maybe.

You cannot form enough resolve to care what the townspeople think. If they do blame you, they'd have to drag you from your home by the hair. You’ll draw blood and break bone if anyone attempts to remove you from Simon’s side.

Tucking the blanket in, you curl up next to your husband, cheek resting against his shoulder. He smells of the forest—damp leaves, crushed berries, and sharp pine. Breathing deep, you commit your husband's scent to memory.

Life is a fragile, fickle thing. The thought of growing old here, of giving Simon children, of watching them grow and have families of their own filled you with such purpose again after your father’s betrayal. It is not the future you expected for yourself, but it is the one you’ve found happiness with.

"Come back to me," you murmur, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. They fall, dampening Simon's skin. "Come back, my love. Come back."

Simon remains silent and still.

Night arrives and then departs, bringing the morning with it. No one comes to visit. No one comes to check on either of you. Responsibility is on your shoulders now. Without your guiding hand, the farm will fall into decay, the fencing will rot, weeds will overtake the crops, and animals will starve. A part of you wants to hand it over to God, to allow him to lead.

But God did not protect your husband. He looked away, leaving Simon to his fate.

A deep sigh escapes you, gracing the air with your accepted reluctance. Slowly, you lift your head from Simon's shoulder. He has not changed in these two weeks. Without food or water, Simon should show signs of wasting. But there is no hint there is anything amiss.

"I will fix this," you say, addressing Simon as if he'll answer.

You rest your palm against the side of his face. Warmth radiates from him, but your touch does not rouse him from his sleep.

A sharp howl pierces the air.

It is not a wolf or dog. This sounds like agony. Like despair. Like a dark creature pulling itself from the earth.

Turning abruptly toward the door, every limb solidifies, turning your blood to stone.

Something is out there. Something that does not belong.

Slipping on your shoes, you creep toward Simon's hunting musket. Grasping it, you reach for the blackpower and musket balls, preparing it like Simon showed you. The howl ceases, but your blood remains chilled like morning frost. The hunting musket is heavy, and the sweat in your palms makes holding it difficult. You can hardly keep it upright.

Grasping it, you hold it in the way he showed you, heading for the door. Pressing your ear to the door, you hear nothing. Not a sound.

Reaching out, you unlatch the door, guiding it open just enough to point the barrel outward and to glimpse the morning.

Nothing stirs. Nothing moves but the tall grass and the corn stalks.

Opening the door wider, you cautiously step outside. Your gaze scans the dirt. No footprints of animal or man.

The air vibrates, and beneath your feet, you sense a creeping static. Tilting your head, you listen—not with your ears but with all your senses, tapping into the ground like your mother taught you.

A tug comes. A gentle pull that lulls your attention leftward.

You take a step in the direction of the feeling, the creeping static intensifying until it suddenly disappears, as if pulled from existence.

"Child." The voice—no, voices—speak with two tongues. "How fares thy husband?"

Turning slowly, you glimpse not man or animal but a combination of the two. The creature stands at nearly twice your height on two cloven hooves. Its head is that of a black goat with red eyes and horns so dark they resemble the night sky. Draped in black robes, and hands clasped in front, you notice they aren't hands at all.

Not human hands, but claws. Talons. Long and spindly like thin twigs.

"Devil," you whisper, because what else could this creature be but a servant of Satan.

The creature only blinks. "To the Good Reverend Shepherd and his flock, I am devil and demon," it says, imitating the voice of the stern religious leader. Switching back to its natural voice, the creature continues. "To others, a guardian. A friend. A god."

You aim the firing end toward the creature. "How do you know of my husband?”

"He came to my tree looking for his goat." The creature’s head cocks to the side as if listening for something. “Rosie. That is the name he called before all went silent.”

The tree.

The one made of dark bark.

The one that breaks the axe on first strike.

"Was it you that harmed him?" you accuse, voice shaking. Sweat pools in your palms, the metal of the musket slippery in your hand.

"Wouldst thou like revenge?" it purrs.

“Answer me! Was it you that put hands upon my husband?”

"It is not Godly to accuse thy neighbor of treachery when proof is lacking.”

"But you don't deny it?" you snap.

The creature is silent for a long moment as if frozen in ice. “No,” it finally says. "I did not cull your husband.”

"Who?" When he doesn't answer, you ask again. "Who?"

“A man of flesh.”

“Which man?”

"Wouldst thou like revenge?" the creature repeats, the dual voices reverberating in your chest.

“Answer me, demon. Or be gone.”

“Does my appearance offend?” it asks slowly. “You…puritans seem bent on burning.” It unclasps its spindle-fingers. “Would you prefer a change?”

"Whether devil or guardian or beast, my ears do not wish to hear more. Be gone."

"No."

No.

Startled, you hesitate. And then your resolve bleeds back into bone. Raising the weapon higher, you plant your feet into the ground, squaring your shoulders. "I said—"

The creature raises its hand, palm upward, forming a fist. The barrel of the weapon bends skyward. Fires. Smoke and ash fill the air.

Blinded, you cry out, falling upon the ground, arm over your eyes protectively. The musket falls from your arms.

"Again, child," comes its voice—a whisper in your ear. "Wouldst thou like revenge?"

You swing your arm outward and only meet air. With a touch of hysteria, you swipe your arms out and around you, expecting to meet solid flesh.

There is nothing. Nothing.

"Be calm, child. Calm."

Chest heaving, you blink through the pain, searching for the house.

Simon. You need to go to him. To protect him.

The world is in color but it is fuzzy. Unclear. The dirt beneath your palms is rough as you crawl, digging into your skin, stinging until you know blood blooms in the wounds.

"Go away," you whisper. The creature does not answer. "Leave. Leave my husband and I in peace."

As your vision clears, a dark shape steps in front of you. The creature towers, hands outstretched placatingly. "Listen, child. Listen."

"Simon," you whisper, every limb shaking as you try to push yourself up to a seated position.

"God abandoned Simon. Abandoned you."

Your arms give out, and you collapse. With every remaining morsel of resolve, you start to drag yourself through the dirt.

"Simon."

"A shadow darkens your door. Not that of any devil—but of human suspicion. Townsfolk consume gossip like plague consumes a newborn babe."

Dirt collects under your nails.

“Suspicion. Godly suspicion. Devil-spun no doubt but by human tongue.”

You drag yourself a little further.

“Witch.”

“Leave us,” you murmur, voice weak and cracked.

Your vision clears a bit more—the sting receding. It is enough to push up to your knees.

“I hear all,” the creature says. “No wooden board or stone or packed dirt can hide a whispered word.”

Witch.

Witch.

“There is nothing the Godly despise more than a woman alone in the world.”

Its words cut deep. They tear into you, ripping out the dreaded truth. The townsfolk will lay blame. And what a perfect perpetrator you are. Why would Simon Riley, one of their own flock, befall such a fate unless someone had done it to him.

Witch.

On shaky legs, you face the creature before you. Its red eyes have softened. Pity rests there, and you do not know what to make of it.

The goat head shifts, gaze moving to somewhere within the house. You glance behind you and only see the open door. When you glance back, the creature is gone.

"Wouldst thou like revenge?"

You spin and find the goat standing inside the doorway. He's too large to fit. He's bent in half, peering out at you.

"Get out of my home, demon."

It only blinks, and steps out of view. You rush toward the door, charging inside, finding no one. The room spins as you head for Simon. All you want is to be beside him. If this is a punishment, then so be it, but you will weather it at his side.

Kneeling beside your bed, you grasp Simon’s hand. You bring it to your lips, placing a kiss against his knuckles.

"I'm seeing things, Simon," you whisper.

Spindle-fingers slide over your shoulder, the creature’s palm coming to rest against the joint. It is no hallucination. There is no iciness, but warmth. Not hot—not an inferno as Reverend Shepherd always preaches—but a comforting one. Like a burning hearth in the middle of winter.

Closing your eyes, you listen.

There is no static. What assails your senses is this creature’s age. There are stars and dust in his aura—of sleeping beneath mountains—of a time before trees when there were only teeth.

“I can heal him,” comes its two-toned voice. “Make him whole.”

In this, you hear the truth. There are no lies. The words weave around you, spinning and encasing you like angel wings.

“Pray tell me, stranger. What price for such an offer?”

“Stranger,” muses the creature. “Thou hast named me.”

“What price?” you prompt.

A beat.

“You.”

“Me?”

Stranger bends until it’s crouched next to you. “I shall heal your husband. Ward him from harm and illness. He will live to an old age. Pass peacefully in his sleep.”

“A nice thought,” you murmur, gazing on Simon’s face.

“But in return, you shall come with me.”

You turn to face Stranger. It gazes at you intently, waiting for a response. As you peer into its red depths, something dark—tentacle-like—slithers in the red and promptly disappears.

“I have nothing to offer.”

Removing its twig-like claws from your shoulder, it presses the point of one to your forehead. At contact, the air comes alive, coursing through vein and bone until your skin glows with a deep radiance of brilliant white light.

“A blessing doth dwell,” its two voices sing. The power surges and then recedes as Stranger removes its claw. “Join me. Be my bride. Walk the forests.”

“Agreements are not freely given. I come from a world where the Fae walk. Bargains favor wing and wit. Not mortal flesh.”

“I am Elder,” purrs Stranger. “Trickery is foul tasting.”

“But after you heal him? After I agree to go with you? What then?”

“You shall see him not. Never know his touch. All memory of you will be erased. He nor the townsfolk will remember you. A hint, maybe. A feeling. But it shall always slip away.”

A life without Simon. A life without his gentle touches and drawings by candlelight. You will bear him no children. Never again enjoy the carnal rite that is your most sacred vow.

Yet, he will live.

Simon will thrive.

You detect no deception. The air is still and calm. No tension.

“What must I do?”

Stranger turns and you follow its gaze.

Upon the table is a large book. Ornate. Shiny. Gold-plated. Open.

You swallow. “I’m…poor with my letters.”

“It needs not names but blood. Just a drop.” Stranger elongates. Still too small for the space, it bends its upper half to accommodate, its back scraping against the ceiling. “Sign the book,” he prompts.

“Forgive me, Simon.”

Pressing your lips to the back of Simon’s hand, you send forth a silent prayer. Pushing up, and leaning over him, you place a second kiss to his forehead. You breathe him in, infusing the memory until it resembles vines, tangling the essence of Simon into your brain.

Retreating, you offer up your palm, splaying your fingers in extension.

Stranger gently takes it, bringing it over the golden book.

Pointed claw meets human flesh.

A sharp sting.

A pause.

A bead of blood wells.

Hovering. Hovering.

Then—

The dark bead lingers on the blank page.

Silence.

And then a sucking sound as the parchment absorbs the blood.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@xxkay15xx @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @randomgurl2326 @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[sunderwight]

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan's younger sister does a villainess transmigration.

The world she ends up in was originally a dating game and visual novel with some light RPG and crafting elements. Playing as purehearted main girl Qiu Haitang, one could choose any number of routes to pursue, from dashing Liu Qingge, to scholarly Mu Qingfang, sexy ice demon Linguang Jun, cute-but-domineering younger half-demon Luo Binghe, and so on. It was an interesting game, though it notoriously inspired some frustration when some of the more interesting side characters (like Yue Qingyuan) were completely unavailable as romantic options, and inspired at lot of rumors about hidden content and demands on future DLC expansions.-

Shen Meimei hadn't particularly liked the game. Sure, she played every route to 100% completion, bought all the extras, the official soundtrack, and the merch (fanmade as well as what slim-pickings existed officially), but that shouldn't be mistaken for approval. Much of that was in fact a desperate quest to figure out what the hell was even going on! Ignore the play time listed for this scathing Steam review, everyone! It shouldn't be factored into any assessments!

The game had several problems, in Shen Meimei's opinion.

The main issue was the lack of follow-through on the buildup of the backstory. Qiu Haitang's whole family was killed one night, maybe-probably by her sketchy as fuck ex-fiancee, who was also a hostage being kept by the Qiu family as leverage against a rival family. Which begged so many questions! Shen Meimei had suspected all along that there was more to it than met the eye (not just because the evil family shared her surname) but it was never deeply delved into. The whole thing only even got resolution in some of the routes, and the most thorough was Luo Binghe's. Luo Binghe had a huge vendetta against Shen Qingqiu, Haitang's sketchy former fiance, which left a lot of room for doubt about his investigating the issue. Was Shen Qingqiu really to blame? Or was Luo Binghe just taking advantage of an opportunity to pin SOME crime on him, since he couldn't really get him for the shit he actually did to Luo Binghe himself? What about the hints regarding that Wu Yanzi guy? Why did those never seem to amount to much? Were the Qiu family really stupid enough to betroth their only daughter to a hostage, or was something else going on? And what about Xiao Qi, the slave boy servant of the Qiu who was mentioned a few times as another possible survivor or witness, but who never comes up again?

Shen Meimei played through everything, certain that there had to be some way to actually solve or gain clarity on the Mystery of the Qiu Family Murders, but even after completing the main routes and unlocking and completing the hidden ones -- nothing! It was all just swept aside in favor of tepid romance arcs, made all the more insufferable because of the compelling subtext between the male love interests. Like, why were any of these guys even interested in Haitang when they so clearly had more going on with each other?

Annoyance over a game Shen Meimei lost too many hours of her life to was one thing, of course.

Transmigrating into the younger sister of notoriously sketchy ex-fiance Shen Qingqiu was another!

Bad news: in the routes where Shen Qingqiu is prosecuted for his crimes, his whole family goes down with him. So if this goes poorly, not only will he be punished, but so will Shen Meimei!

Worse news: this fictional version of her family is almost identical to her actual real family. To the point where she would be checking everyone else for transmigration, except that no one but her seems aware that anything is odd. Shen Qingqiu acts exactly like her older brother, right down to his particular flavor of prickly social behavior and cynicism. And their middle brother is a chronically ill nerd who hate-reads trash novels and is completely fascinated by weird monsters (a much more worrisome trait in a world that actually has a lot of those...)

In short, her life is on the line, and so is her family's!

Damn you, Veiled Heroine Games! If you hadn't abandoned so many plot threats, Shen Meimei might actually know what was going on and be able to neatly circumvent everything! But now she has to figure out how to win the protagonist back over, rescue her brothers, and solve (and possibly further cover up...) the mysterious Qiu family murders, all while keeping Luo Binghe away from Shen Jiu, and preventing Qiu Haitang from completing any of the romance plotlines that will cause troubles for them! Which is most of them!

[jacaranda-bloom]

THE LOST LIST FIC REC

I recently came across a list of fave fics that I thought I’d lost. It’s from years ago when I first started reading fic and I’ve been going on a wonderful trip down memory lane re-reading them all, so I thought I'd share 20 of them with you.

Some of these were well-read at the time they were posted, but haven’t been making it onto more recent rec lists. Some are tropes that aren’t as popular anymore. And some of them are pretty obscure with low readership, but each one holds a special place in my fic journey.

Hope you find something new and enjoyable, or get to revisit an old fave xx

*Please ensure you read the tags and author's notes for all fics.

(quiet like a fight) fingers laced together | decadent | E | 17k

Louis is a kitten hybrid in a cruel world. Harry's family is worried he's lonely and buys him Louis as a companion. Or the one where it's a whole new world for them both.

infinitely all for me | swallowsmateforlife | E | 10k

The Alpha Louis has been betrothed to since he was 14 finally comes of age and Louis is delivered to his home. Or the one where they figure it all out.

No Turbulence Please | wetdandelions | E | 5k

It's just Harry's luck that his rut hits right before his concert when he's stuck on an plane where his best friend is the only omega. Or the one where Louis doesn't mind helping Harry out.

trusting things beyond mistake | sarcasticfluentry | E | 10k

Harry wants to see if he can come without touching his cock, but things don't go as he'd planned. Louis, his flatmate, comes home and finds him in a compromising position. Or the one where Harry ends up getting more than he bargained for.

river flows in you | sarcasticfluentry | E | 10k

Louis goes into heat early and part of their tour gets rescheduled. Or the one where Harry fucks him through it.

Make Tea, Not War | howdoyouwhisk | E | 21k

"Is he the messiest?" "Yes." "Does he do the washing up?" "Never." "Does he make his bed?" "Never." "Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?" "Nope!" Or the one where Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.

let me make a thing of cream and stars | missandrogyny | E | 25k

Louis and Nick host the most popular show on BBC Radio 1. The audience loves their shenanigans, which is why Louis is currently trying to interview singer (and frequent star of his sexual fantasies) Harry Styles, while Harry planks over him. Or the one where Harry is a rock star who is infatuated with Louis' bum, among other things.

you burn with the brightest flame | sarcasticfluentry | E | 34k

Harry and Niall are betas, Louis and Zayn are omegas, and Liam is an alpha. At least Harry thought he was a beta. When Louis goes into heat in the X Factor House, everything Harry thought he knew is turned upside down. Or the one where everyone gets more than bargained for.

Always Come Back To You | whoknows | E | 29k

Three years after 1D split the hysteria has died down somewhat. People don't care as much when Harry and Louis catch up for lunch, like good friends do. But when Louis publicly comes out and says he has a boyfriend (which he doesn't), he's naturally expected to present this mysterious boyfriend when he shows up to an LGBTQ+ charity event. Or the one where Harry volunteers to be Louis' pretend boyfriend and there might be a lot less pretending than either of them expected.

Unraveling | D1ona30 | E | 10k

Louis' birthday wish comes true. Cue the chaos. Or the one where Harry can read Louis' mind.

led by your beating heart | missandrogyny | E | 34k

He should delete. He should really delete the number. He and Louis shared nothing but brief small talk in the bathroom, nothing significant, nothing worth risking his career over. The smart move here is to just delete, forget about 'Cute Lou from the Loo' and move on. Of course, Harry hits call. Or the one where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.

In Dreams | dolce_piccante | E | 24k

When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat comes with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbour, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face. Or the one where Harry's a teacher, Louis is a tattoo artist, and being neighbourly takes on a whole new meaning.

Special Topping | LoadedGunn | E | 13k

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens. Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who. Or the one where Harry delivers pizza, fashion student Louis creates chaos in his flat, and it's totally inevitable that Harry finds himself drawn into the middle of it all.

One Day To Believe In You | mediaville | E | 8k

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?" "Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out. "Often?" "Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?" Or the one where Louis can't lie.

Is This Seat Taken? | Lainy122 | E | 36k

A borrowed suit from Zayn, a cigarette and the right attitude, and Louis went from security breach to misplaced celebrity instantly. He could practically see the wheels in the security guy’s head switch from ‘could be dangerous’ to ‘could get me fired’. L.A was so predictable. Or the one where Louis poses as a seat-filler and Harry is a superstar at the event he sneaks into.

Breathe Me | elsi_bee | E | 26k

Louis is forced to attend a week long meditation retreat. The meditation coach is not quite what he was expecting. Or the one where Louis and Liam are songwriters, Harry might be a giant hippie, Niall plays guitar, and Zayn is dark and mysterious.

Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion | whoknows | E | 9k

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees. Or the one where Louis lives with Liam, Harry is Liam's annoying hipster friend who Louis can't stand, and there's a fine line between love and hate.

Foolishly, Completely Falling | dea_liberty | E | 8k

Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag. Or the one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.

Hiding Out In The Kitchen | LittleMousling | E | 28k

Harry's in an internationally famous boyband with his three best mates, he gets laid on a pretty regular basis, and he's headed to Australia in a week. He doesn't need anything else in his busy life, and he certainly doesn't need a boyfriend. Or the one where Harry likes coffee, Louis works in a coffee shop, and maybe having a boyfriend wouldn't actually be a bad thing at all.

Hate Me To The Moon | harrystylesandstuff | E | 84k

The last thing Harry wanted was to spend his entire summer stuck with his dad's new fiancée and her kids, especially when he learns she's a very religious dictator, raising a sixteen year old nun and a clean cut potential priest ass kisser. That is until Harry finds out his future step-brother is actually the rude stranger he caught sucking off a guy in a pub. Or the one where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel.

Hope you find something to enjoy!

[calciumdeficientt]

what do you think context was behind justin's dialogue "derby told me last night i was his best friend"

Ohhhhhhh I’ve been ruminating on this ever since i listened to all the quote videos (please dont ask me why i did that i really really dont know) i pride myself on being somewhat of a stickler for the most inane and pointless background stuff.

Today i plan to answer the question:

WHY THE HELL DID DERBY SAY THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

The easy answer here would be to say that Derby was drunk, and simply feeling very loving(that sentence feels so insane to me for some reason).

Harrington house feels very much to me the hotspot for “gatherings” of the bullworth’s brightest, best and most sickeningly rich. The little guest list on the desk as you enter, as well as Bif on the door in the weed killer mission, and obviously the general worldview of the preps points towards a general pickiness to guests, likely not accepting anyone by on their own social circle. Another key background factor to consider is the little bar that derby cowers behind in Glass Jaw during his bossfight and also the bar in the beach house, leading me to believe that the events hosted at Harrington house are usually organised with the intention of drinking copious amounts of excessively strong and exceedingly expensive alcohol.

There’s bound to be a few contentious objectors to drinking, at least excessively, on school grounds and on school nights and i think the ever-pining proto-jock Justin probably doesn’t partake as much as Derby “I’m too rich to bother attending class” Harrington. All this to say, Justin was 110% more sober and therefore 110% more receptive to derby’s drunk babblings than any other partygoer, prep or otherwise.

In my mind, Derby Harrington, despite having everything he could ever conceivably want at the snap of his fingers, is one of the loneliest students at bullworth academy. He mentions being beaten by his father for fraternising with a nanny, and shows a general disdain for his betrothed, pinky, by not even bothering to show up for their dates. He cannot truly get close to anyone because of his position as an heir to a pretty substantial oil empire. Great care is needed to avoid being sliced right out of the will and being condemned to hush money by his father. Bif is great, but he’s not all that much emotionally, at least not in derby’s mind anyway. He’s far far beneath Derby, that’s made abundantly clear when Bif loses his boxing match to Jimmy; he’s sneered at with the kind of vitriole that can only come from someone who views himself as king of his own private universe. Justin is in the same boat just presumably with a lot less petty cash at his disposal. He’s a weird ass bitch who’s so incredibly desperate to expand his social circle into the Jocks’ because he feels somewhat inadequate in his own. To use his verbage, he’s a peon in the prep hierarchy. He’s weak and scrawny and of little use in the stature department, at least not when compared to Bif anyway.

This night, Derby is drunk out of his mind, as usual, and Justin is beside him, a little buzzed but not enough to put him off his studies for the next day. They are sat on opposite ends of a chaise longue in the drawing room. Well… Justin is sat, Derby is more slumped, folded over the armrest in a way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. He’s telling a story from a recent trip to Europe, about a girl he met in a city that his drunk brain just can’t seem to decide on the pronunciation of, gulping scotch out of a crystal glass like its going out of fashion. Justin is listening actively, trying to piece the story together amongst the many asides derby seems to be wandering off into. That’s when the bomb drops “know, i like to think you’re my best friend here Justin” “what?” “You heard me….. anyway this damn woman”

Safe to say it was the best night of Justin Vandervelde’s life.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

what do you think could have been some ripple effects if the dance was somehow delayed by 7 years? what do you think the ripple effects could have been in favour of/against the greens as well as the blacks?

I admit to jumping the queue in my ask box for this question because it's really interesting!

The first thing that comes to mind is that Lord Corlys would almost certainly be dead. This, I think, is the biggest factor. He dies in canon only 3 years after Viserys and he's 79 at that point, so I'm going to assume he would have died around that age regardless. So if Corlys dies, there might legitimately be a Driftmark succession crisis before there's one for the Iron Throne. Now Lucerys presumably has the support of his family and can probably win any conflict, but at what cost? It's also true that this could give the realm a preview of what might happen were Jace to attempt to succeed Rhaenyra to the Iron Throne. And that's if Luke remains the undisputed heir after taking the Driftwood Throne, which I don't necessarily think is a given. Luke is inexperienced and the men of the fleet are going to resent him. At the end of the Dance the other side of the Velaryon family tried to overthrow Alyn, but he and Baela managed to reconcile with them, but with Luke? I think there's a chance that most of Corlys' fleet defects to the greens the moment Viserys dies.

Over on the green side, Aegon's kids are older and that's two more potential dragonriders in Jaehaera and Jaehaerys. Both Sunfyre and Tessarion would be larger too. Daeron and Aemond have almost certainly made marriages of their own, or at least betrothals, with brides to be married as soon as Viserys died.

There are also a lot of wild cards, like Daemon. In 7 years his sons are in their late teens and it might be harder to watch Jace inherit over them when they're promising young men than when they're little kids. How likely is he to get bored and shit stir? How likely is it that things have soured between him and Rhaenyra? Does Jeyne Arryn still die in 134? If so, the Vale is facing it's own succession crisis at that point. Does the Winter Fever still hit at the same time? The demographic that seems most affected by that seems to be people in their 30s-50s, so do Daemon, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Otto, all survive it?

I think that overall things do not look as good seven years down the line for the black faction. There are a lot of problems festering with their allies that have simply not come to a head yet when the Dance breaks out in canon. On the other hand, the greens have 7 more years to shore up alliances, for their baby dragons to grow, and for Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron to mature. The wild card factors mostly don't bode well for Rhaenyra's cause either.

[syndrossi]

In Resonant, do you think Alicent will convince Viserys to marry Helaena to Aegon or Jon (she likes Rhaegar too, of course, but he potentially won't inherit the Runestone). On the one hand, marrying Aegon would give him more legitimacy (because she's a princess and his own sister). And on the other hand, Helaena obviously likes Jon a lot more and Alicent seems to be very affectionate towards her daughter to ensure she has a happier marriage. Plus I'm sure she still secretly detests Targaryen tradition and would be much happier for her favorite daughter to avoid marrying her brother.

I expect Alicent's feelings on the matter are complicated.

I agree that not-so-deep down, Alicent is grossed out by the Targaryen marriage traditions and would rather her children not be forced into once.

OTOH, politically, it's a powerful message if Helaena marries Aegon. It reinforces "hey, these are the REAL Targaryen heirs, following REAL Targaryen traditions, unlike those bastard Strong boys." Aka it strengthens Aegon's claim, vs Jace's cousin betrothal, which is fairly tame by Westerosi standards.

On the other-other hand, a part of Alicent probably wants her daughter to have a happier marriage than hers, where she isn't just a political puppet. Helaena's happiness is at least some small selling point. So her showing interest in Jon or Rhaegar might be taken by Alicent as a sign from the gods that it's meant to be.

On the anatomically unlikely third hand, dragons are a factor. We can't discount Otto's influence, and his favorite belief is that a woman's loyalty is to her children, which would mean giving up Helaena and a potential dragon to the Blacks. Once the four Green kids have claimed their dragons, this will be even less attractive a prospect: giving up one of his four dragons to the Blacks, who have a lot.

[bbygirl-aemond]

Jaehaerys was such a shit dad he fucked up all of his children thank god for Alysanne

anon i am so sorry to ruin this for you, but alysanne really wasn't a good mom or grandmom to specifically the women within her family. she didn't have as much power as viserys, but she managed to use her power to control her female descendants' marriages to straight up ruin most of their lives 😬

she allowed 16yo daella to be married off to a 36yo rodrik arryn (she did give daella two other options, but they were both fully grown men). teenage daella soon fell pregnant and wrote to her mother saying she was scared for her life. she died in childbirth.

she betrothed 15yo viserra to the already "old" and "very stout" lord manderly, who'd already gone through four wives, and who viserra made clear she did not want to marry. she did this even though viserra was young because she disliked that viserra was currying favor with men due to her beauty. this directly pushed viserra to slip her guards and try to enjoy some freedom before being married to a fat old grandpa, which led to the accident that killed her.

maegelle was kind of alright but she was raised to be a silent sister from birth, she never had a choice in it. alysanne decided her entire life's course for her as a baby and she was never allowed to consider any other path.

gael honestly had a very clingy relationship with alysanne because by the time she was born alysanne had already lost several children. i think alysanne using gael as an emotional crutch for losing children directly contributed to gael later killing herself at 19yo after losing a baby.

alyssa was allowed to marry baelon when she was just 15yo. some people say it was nice of alysanne to let alyssa marry who she wanted, but given alysanne's track record i think alyssa's wants didn't factor into this decision as much as baelon's did. and regardless, allowing alyssa to marry and become pregnant so young put her at risk for the childbirth complications that later killed her.

saera i could write an entire essay about. she was constantly ignored by her parents since she was the ninthborn and a girl, and was punished when this neglect made her act out for attention. jaehaerys was willing to let saera marry one of the three men she favored, but alysanne refused. when saera was found to have kissed and possibly slept with these men, alysanne said she should be punished, and stood by while saera was forced to watch from afar as her own father killed one of her male companions. she then forced saera to join the faith, where she was abused for over a year (her head was shaved, she was physically beaten, etc.). i don't blame saera for running away and remaining no contact with alysanne for the rest of alysanne's life.

alysanne even did her grandchildren dirty. she allowed 11yo aemma to be married to viserys, and later allowed viserys to consummate the marriage when aemma was just 13yo even though maesters warned them it would irreparably damage aemma's reproductive system and body. this caused aemma lifelong health issues that later killed her. like this is literally what happened with daella, only much worse, and they absolutely knew better but didn't care enough about poor aemma's safety.

listen, i appreciate the things alysanne accomplished as jaehaerys's advisor. she was definitely the biggest force of good for women that we ever got under the targaryens (save for daenerys). but it's not a coincidence that alysanne's relationships with all of her daughters ended in tragedy when her relationships with her sons did not.

she is complicit in the unhappiness and death that faced her descendants like daella, alyssa, and aemma for allowing them to become pregnant so young. she was slut-shamey towards both viserra and saera for daring to have agency over their sexuality, even more so than jaehaerys which is really saying something. she had a talent for alienating her daughters and making choices for their lives without regard for their happiness. contrast this to her relationships with her sons, whom she allowed the agency she never granted her daughters: she allowed both aemon and baelon to choose their own wives, rather than following precedent that would dictate aemon marry alyssa.

basically, alysanne was definitely a feminist when it came to policy, but her internalized misogyny jumped out HARD when it came to her family's affairs. and her female descendants paid the price for it, with their happiness, with their lives, or both.

[eliteseven]

How would Shadowheart and Tav react if they got caught while doing the deed by Shadowheart’s parents? Or by the companions before they settled down?

Haha I knew this was coming at some point!

Getting Caught by Emmeline and Arnell:

It's the end of the world for Tav! It's worse than the Netherbrain, it's worse than that one time she literally died and came back. She probably instantly starts like...apologizing lmao.

"I'm sorry, we weren't...I would never...she fell onto me!"

Like a teenager caught red-handed with their (not so) innocent daughter (who is at least 40 lmao). It's just how she was brought up. She scrambles to cover them both bc ✨chivalry✨, but internally she's just dyingggg. Can't look at Arnell and Emmeline in the eye for a while after.

Tav is dramatic af afterwards:

"My honor is forever ruined"

"...Tav, we're betrothed."

Emmeline surprises them all at supper by making an offhanded comment about Hallowleaf women and their insatiable desires, and how she and Arnell were just the same, in their youth. I like to think everyone at that table comes away equally mortified, except for Emmeline, who just shrugs and eats her bread roll bc it's the truth. Arnell probs used to lay it down 🤷🏻‍♀️ Shadowheart got there somehow, right?

As for Shart's reaction:

Shadowheart is mostly: 1. annoyed at the interruption (things were just getting good and she has needs) 2. amused by Tav's reaction. It's funny! She's grown. They're her parents. They love Tav. They aren't clueless and frankly, they've probably seen worse from their time in captivity. She probably reacts faster than Tav. I think life in the cloister made Shadowheart a little more relaxed about these things. Tav was always taught to save face and project the best possible image. While she did leave home, she was around 19 so these lessons probably stuck.

At Camp:

Look, it's canon that Shart is always down™️ (source: "Oh, has the mood struck you, love? I suppose we could try, if you think the others won't stir...")

I'd say the camp has heard them "building sandcastles" quite a few times. They usually try to put some distance between themselves and camp- but sometimes they end up getting intimate right there in Shadowheart's tent. What the camp can't hear, they can probably see in silhouettes against the tent, if Shadowheart doesn't cast darkness.

And lbr, their companions have probably gotten an eyeful on one of the evenings where they're having a camp party. Shadowheart was cooler with being something of an exhibitionist in the past, but Tav is so soft and intimate that it's different, now. She wants Tav's love and affection all to herself, away from prying eyes. Their love (and really, that is the key factor here, it's not just sex) is for them, and them only.

If some unfortunate soul were to happen upon them like that, interrupting their private time together, I think they might be on the receiving end of one of Shadowheart's death glares and some choice words.

[americasass81]

Finding Her Calm In The Chaos

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Smut {f/f), Oral {female giving and receiving], Fingering, Implied Multiple Orgasms, Fluff.  Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.  Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Author’s Note 1:- A totally self indulgent Fic, this came about after a mutual tempted me into watching House of The Dragon (thank you @targaryenvampireslayer ) and I discovered what a badass Rhaenys is.  This may take some liberties with regards to the show, but then this is fanfiction after all.

Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- Throwing her lot in with Rhaenyra in the hopes of protecting the boys betrothed to her beloved granddaughters, as well as the peace her grandsire and cousin had presided over during their lifetimes, Rhaenys now finds herself planning for the future while hoping to survive a litany of mistakes from the past.  So where then do you fit into all of that?

Pairings:- Rhaenys Velaryon x Female Reader.

Word Count:- 4,003

Diving out of the sky and penetrating a cave mouth you never even knew was there given the dragon’s speed, Meleys seemed to take up every inch of space available as she lay down on the ground to allow you and her rider to dismount.  Standing out of the way then as your feet readjusted to the feeling of solid ground beneath them again and your insides realigned themselves after the flying experience, your attention was torn however between watching Rhaenys instruct this wondrous creature on what to do and trying to figure out what exactly you were doing here.  Never mind where here actually was.

Having served the princess faithfully now for almost four years, while silently admiring from afar her strength, courage and loyalty, not to mention her beauty, all that time, her invitation to join her for a ride through the skies on dragonback was not something you could refuse.  Hell, she was your princess after all and you had sworn to serve her faithfully in every way you could.  But this?  This whole situation simply baffled you.

Sure Meleys was one of the older dragons in existence, but even soaring through the skies and bursting through the clouds with two people on her back she should easily have been able to fly you and the princess on this trip and then return both of you to Dragonstone or Driftmark without ever having to set down here in this remote location.  She was still after all one of the swiftest dragons in Westeros and it's not like the weather was a deciding factor.  Having already soared above the clouds, you had seen with your own eyes, once you had opened them that is, how calm and peaceful the day actually was.  Which meant there was no chance of any storm brewing here to force her to land and take refuge, except her rider's instruction.  So what then was really going on here?

Turning your focus back to your two companions now as The Red Queen settled down while simultaneously blocking out most, if not all, of the natural light entering the cave, you would have asked this question along with how Rhaenys could possibly see where she going or what she was doing, but thought better of voicing that particular question however.  After all, here was a Targaryen, a family whose very blood supposedly tied them to these magical creatures, who had spent more time in the depths of dragon pits than anyone else currently alive.  Of course she could navigate in diminished light where others might not.

Sure for all you knew she could even see in the dark.

Then again, as she took your hand and led you down a flight of previously unseen carved out steps, the scene before you temporarily distracted you from these questions and the informal actions that seemed to be occurring and told you that this was a place Rhaenys had been before and knew her way around intimately.  In more ways than one.

Walking with your princess now to a rundown wooden cabin built into this very rockscape with a forest to the front and her loyal stead sleeping above, the structure and clearing really didn't look like the type of place one would expect to find a high born Targaryen princess.  But then again it seems that was the very image she was trying to convey to those that stumbled across its location as the inside painted a totally different picture.  Bigger than it appeared from the outside having somehow extended back into the mountain, the fire, table, books and seats would have been more than enough to convince you that Rhaenys came here often, but it was the bed positioned against one wall that blew all the mystery away however and revealed to you what this place truly was ... her refuge.  Her secret hideaway far away from the loss and responsibility she carried with her without complaint on a daily basis.  And she had chosen to bring you here.

But that then raised the question of why she would do such a thing.  You were nobody special after all, and certainly not someone worthy of being singled out like this.

She however seemed to sense your confusion.  "I discovered this place when I first flew out with Meleys years ago and have fortified it well over the intervening time in concert with the natural elements all around it," she clarified as your hand now rested on the book sitting open atop the table while Rhaenys removed her gloves and seated herself upon the bed.  "Castles come and go you see, being that they are the easiest and most desirable of targets.  But here," she continued as you at last looked in her direction, "no one's going to expect a princess and her dragon to hang out in a cave or a forest.  For that's all anyone sees unless they look closer," she finished with a smile that knocked years of her visage and gave you a glimpse of the woman she must have been all those years ago.  "Join me?" she quickly added then while patting a spot on the bed next to her before you had a chance to look away.

And how were you supposed to respond to a request such as that?

After all, back on Driftmark she was to be obeyed.  Not because of fear or because she demanded it, but simply because of who and what she was ... a kind person when treated with respect, the lady of the castle and someone who, in her husband's absence, had proven herself a worthy leader.  A descendant of Old Valyria through and through.  But here it seemed all semblance of regency was cast aside and she was giving you a choice as if you were her equal.  Stating it more like a question, as she had that morning when she first asked you to ride out with her, her hand remaining where it lay still conveyed her invitation as her eyes beseech you to accept once more.  But to what end?

To sit on a chair beside someone of Rhaenys' standing was one thing and something that still made you feel a little uneasy.  But to ride on dragonback with her?  To sit on a bed beside her?  These two things had taken you so far out of your comfort zone you didn't see how you would ever find your way back there again.  And yet she seemed to sense this conflict within you too.

Remaining still on the bed, her hand now rose out towards you palm up as her voice broke the silence filling the space between both of you once more.  "It's all right, I promise to be gentle," she reassured as your feet began to respond all on their own and move your body towards her.  And gentle is exactly what she was.  Far gentler in fact than you thought a dragonrider ought to be, for the second your arm got within reach, her fingers closed around your wrist before your brain could even register her skin against yours and used your forward momentum to bring your body down on the bed where her hand had just left.  A hand that released your wrist now and joined the other as they slowly roamed freely over your heaving form, removing every layer of fabric while your brain tried frantically now to figure out how it should respond.

But it seemed Rhaenys here too had experience you had not accounted for.  "Is this your first time with a woman?" she asked as her fingers slipped down your body towards the final piece of clothing hiding you from her while your eyes looked anywhere except where they longed to focus.  Not that she allowed you to continue ignoring her for long however as she stopped what she was doing, spoke again and shocked you with a revelation you thought only existed between you and the night, "and is this not better than all those scenes your own fingers conjured up as you watched over me while I slept?" she questioned, and your teeth silenced your response here too as they always had in the past.  But your body betrayed you and told a different story.

Naked before your princess now, as you were the day you first exited your mother's womb, her fingers, teeth and tongue brought forth the truth it seemed you were too shy to confess however.  You longed for her to claim ownership over you in the only way she had not yet done.  And it seemed she wasn't one to shrink from the task.

Releasing her hold on you now as you panted frantically from her initial assault, years of service and the air in your lungs suddenly kicked back in however when she rose from the bed, raised her hands and stood in a manner you were all too familiar with.  Even if the circumstances now were far removed from anything you had ever experienced before.  For undressing her now would be totally different than anything the last four years of service had taught you.  And the consequences would change everything.

But still, you couldn't deny her.  Leaving the bed behind you now, as she had just done, and standing before her like you always had, sans clothes of course, your fingers trembled slightly now however as the weight of what was about to happen settled over you and altered the present from anything you had ever done in the past.  And it seemed Rhaenys felt that shift too.

Reaching out her hands again, her fingers now twined with yours before her voice, soft as a whisper, captured your attention once more and set your mind at ease.  "It's all right if you don't want this.  I'd simply be content to spend a night asleep beside you," she reassured, until her eyes and the words that followed told you she wasn't finished, "but my instincts are telling me you want more.  So why not simply reach out and take it?"

Silenced by the force of her conviction now as her eyes and words somehow held sway over you, the next few minutes passed in a blur as you stripped off every article of clothing she wore and placed it lovingly on a lone chair situated in the farthest corner before walking back to stand now before her naked form.  And you couldn't believe what you were seeing.  After all, it wasn't as if you hadn't helped her undress before, you wouldn't have lasted four years as one of her ladies if you had refused daily such an integral part of your job.  But before, you had simply worked through the motions.  Remove an item, move on to the next.  Copy and repeat, copy and repeat until the task was done.

Here, now, in this place however things were very different.  Here there was no Baela, Lord of The Tides or other ladies-in-waiting to get between you and your wandering eyes.  And what a sight they got to witness.

Whispering to you now that the dragon she rode was named after the old Valyrian goddess of love and fertility, their bonding now made total sense and her more muscular body seemed to confirm this.  For as gentle as she was, Rhaenys was also forged of something stronger.  Oh sure, her two now deceased children, her feminine attributes and the obvious assets which kept her off the Iron Throne screamed that she was no different from you, Rhaenyra or any one of the countless women throughout Westeros who suffered endlessly for the cruel greed of man.  Except for one difference ... her muscles were a bit more defined.

Of course, training with your brothers back home before ending up in your current position, you too had managed to hone your body and shape its composition, but dragon riding?  That took strong arms, legs and bodies that no woman would ever possess simply by sparing or attending court and smiling at any man who paid her a passing interest.  And the proof now was evident beneath your wandering fingertips.  Running them along her arms now as her own fingers reached out and pulled your bodies closer, you explored every inch your imagination had never before done justice to until her patience finally ran out however and the Lady of Driftmark tossed you back upon the bed and allowed years of sexual experience to take over as her gentleness slowly gave way to her passion.

Placing her body over yours now while still not crushing you beneath her, her mouth next began the task of claiming you as she had previously told you to do with her.  And it was better than you dared to dream of.  Kissing here and biting there, you knew now her plan was to leave signs of your coupling upon you that would last as long as possible, but as her teeth latched on to your left nipple while her strong fingers stretched your right, you realized you didn't care.  Screaming out her name now as the pain gave way to pleasure when her tongue took over and soothed the nerves she had skilfully awakened, your mind wondered now if your flower could withstand the same attention as she began to make her way towards it.  But it seemed your worry was misplaced.

Teasing you gently now with licks and kisses in a way your breasts had recently just been denied, her fingers working your entrance bit by bit was a method you yourself would later turn on her to the same effect she now had on you.  Moaning and writhing feebly beneath her now as her fingers skimmed your inner walls and her tongue made contact with the little bundle of nerves hidden away where only those educated in a woman's body would ever find it, your fists grasping for the sheets was all you could seem to do now as the orgasms she worked from you stole your voice and your strength.

Eating you out a few more times now until you cried out for her to stop, her kneeling on the bed above you and smiling triumphantly as she ran her tongue along her lips would be a sight you thought could never be equalled as you waited for sleep to claim you, but it seemed you weren't as worn out as you had actually thought.

Remembering your training now and all the times you had thought yourself defeated, you waited for the final aftershocks of your releases to recede and taking a firmer grasp of the sheets, you moved your body down the bed and surprised Rhaenys now when your head appeared between her knees while your hands grabbed hold of her powerful thighs.  Smiling now as it seemed she hadn't thought you capable of such a feat, her eyes locking on yours and a very noticeable nod of her head was all the confirmation you needed however to know she was ready, willing and waiting to see what you could do.

But ready it seemed was an understatement.

Lowering her body to meet your mouth now as your tongue snaked out as if it had taken on a life of its own, the first touch of your muscle against her entrance and you knew her desire was as strong as yours ... for her garden was absolutely dripping.  Recalling now in vivid detail all that she had just put you through, your tongue swirled, your lips sucked and soon after breaching her entrance more times than you could possibly count, your combined orgasms found both of you buried beneath the sheets now in each others arms while her back rested against your front and your leg thrown atop hers completed the connection.

But unfortunately duty still seemed determined to find her here and ruin even this special moment.  "Listen to me carefully now, for now is all we have," she suddenly started some time later, breaking through your bliss as her body now turned to face you and the mask of the Targaryen princess fell back into place once more while she tried to find the words to explain to you what lay ahead from here.  And the reality of that frightened you far more than all that had gone before and what you had just done.

For now here she was, The Queen That Never Was, lying in your arms after the most amazing love making session of your young life and she was telling you that she was going to die.  Not because she possessed the gift of foresight or some prophet had told her so.  No.  She knew because there was no other way given the forces at play and how things were shaping up.  She was just too gifted at reading the situation.  Even if Rhaenyra for example should fly into battle, as heir to the throne she couldn't just challenge her half-brothers in the hopes that she would end up victorious.  As her own son Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had rightly pointed out, her allies backed her claim so she, and by extension he, had to be protected, while Rhaenys as always would be expendable.  After all, was it not the one defining trait that marked her whole existence?

Forged of a stronger temperament than her cousin and better suited to rule, she had been cast aside at the great council in favor of Viserys simply because she had been born a woman.  Had been denied a possible place on his small council for the same reason even though, as ill health visited him in later life, his own wife Alicent Hightower would grace that very hall in his stead.  Hell, even her eyes and ears had provided ample proof that her own husband had strayed and abandoned her to carry on alone despite his claims that she was everything to him.  And with Daemon currently uncommunicative from his base in Harrenhal, well she really was the Blacks only other experienced option.

Her and her loyal dragon.

Oh sure, with the peaceful reigns of Jaehaerys and Viserys, Meleys, like most of the dragons in existence with the exceptions of Vhagar and Caraxes, had only known minor skirmishes if any real fighting at all.  But like her rider, she was still fearsome and cunning when roused and had proven herself more than capable of fending off attacks in The Gullet since the blockades had been set up by her husband's forces on Rhaenyra's behalf.  Still somehow she had always known when the two of them rose out of the dragon pit at Aegon's coronation, it would fall on her shoulders to lead the dragons to actual war.

After all, Lucerys had fled from Vhagar rather than engage the huge beast in battle, just as his mother had made him promise.  And Aemond, well he was nothing more than a child riding a weapon whose full power he still did not truly understand or appreciate.  Neither one of them could be held completely responsible for the tragic accident that had really pushed this conflict beyond the reach of human intervention.  And since then Rhaenyra had been doing everything to hold a fragile peace together.  No in truth, it was Daemon's reckless actions that had blown all hopes of maintaining that peace to smithereens and now it fell to Rhaenys and Meleys to defend their allies and claim whatever victory might present itself to them.

Which was a sobering realization really.  The possible deaths of countless people.  The introduction of dangerous and destructive dragonfire into a world that had never really seen the true power of these fearsome creatures.  If she was being honest with herself, it was why she had even counseled her husband time and time again over the years against all of his harebrained schemes to remove Viserys and install her in his place.  For she had accepted the terrible price a war within the house of the dragon would cost.  And so she did now what she always had, planned for what she could control while leaving the rest in the hands of the gods of Old Valyria.

Which brought her back to you and the message she needed understood should her worst fear come to pass.  You were to live here now in the safety of this cabin and the bounty that nature and the land provided.  Should you require anything extra, well she informed you while pointing to the chair that now held all of her clothing, hidden beneath it and the floorboards was an underground area that housed more than enough coin to see you through the rest of your life along with a tunnel to escape through..  All she asked in return was that you protect her treasures and never forget your time together.

Taking a moment now to look around the cabin while this request sunk in and once more take in the items she spoke of, the hidden truth you had missed earlier finally hit you ... these were her personal items.  Things passed down through her family that she wanted preserved and had somehow chosen you for that task.  And how could she not?  After all, as you had fully accepted, you were no one special.  Her descendants, such as they were now however, consisted of her husband Corlys Velaryon and her granddaughters Baela and Rheana.  All three you knew, as did Rhaenys, were well and truly entwined with Rhaenyra's cause which meant their futures were uncertain.  You however could disappear while still undertaking the task she requested.

And yet, her goodness still shone bright as her next words brought your focus back to her.  She didn't expect you to remain celibate.  Should fortune favor you with a love worthy of your trust and value, she fully expected you to seize it, despite your protests that your heart belonged only to her, as long as you promised to keep a watchful eye on her descendants and pass on her gifts should a time and opportunity present itself.  For it seemed despite what lay ahead she still had hope.  Hope that whatever catastrophe befell the House of Targaryen, and Westeros as a whole, that House Velaryon at least might be spared.

So what then could you say?  'Sorry, but no.  I won't do it.'  That was never really an option you silently admitted now and it had nothing to do with who she was.  It had to do with who you were and was quite possibly the reason she had trusted you in the first place.  After all, had you not just professed your love for her now through both word and deed?  No, it was so much more than that.  You wanted to offer assistance if it was in your ability to provide it.  You were a good, kind, decent and honest person who only wanted to spread love and kindness to all who happened to cross your path and no matter how life might treat you, you still only ever wished the best for even those that had wronged you.  But you were also stronger than these gentler attributes portrayed you to be.

You were fiercely loyal, trained in the use of weapons, though Rhaenys had never asked why and, despite your innate goodness, you also possessed an almost self-preservational instinct of liking everyone while trusting no one.  It was why now, as you accepted her request while Rhaenys drifted off back to sleep in your arms, that she knew she had made the right decision, just as she had the day she had asked you to join her house ... you would serve her without fault as you always had.  Knowing this she could now face whatever tomorrow brought, secure in the knowledge that her Valyrian heritage would be protected and what might be her last night beneath the stars had been spent with someone who loved her for her heart instead of a crown.

[butterflypeatea3456]

Yandere! Alicent x Yandere! Rhaenyra x Reader x Yandere! Criston

Part 2 (There will probably be a 3rd)

As the years went by it’s be a lie to say it was all smooth sailing. Though in the present you lived a more than comparable life. Between the lavish gowns of emerald green and ruby red. All gifts from Alicent and Rhaenyra, often they loved to personally dress you in. And a large chamber right between theirs. That you and Ser Cole often shared.

When Alicent and Viserys married, you ended up spending more time with Rhaenyra. As Alicent became more busy with matters of the kingdom, that concerned the young Queen. As much as you tried to mediate the tension between the two. It pushed you further into Criston’s arms. Not that he minded, using the situation to his benefit. Often you spent time with him, especially during meals. He tried his hardest not too bad mouth Rhaenrya in front of you. After she rejected his plan of the three of you running away together.

Little did you know you are a big chunk of what caused these tensions. As a married woman, Alicent was not permitted to spend as much time with you. Always in the corner of her eyes, she saw Rhaenrya you around without her. She and Ser Cole agreed that you were getting too far away. More and more often you started being called to the Queen’s champers. With Alicent’s reasons stemming from only liking the way, you brewed her tea. To help her dress for the day. During these times in her chambers, she’d send all the other servants away and Ser Cole would be the only guard present.

The ever going rift between the three disheartened you. They were really the only people in the castle that made your stay enjoyable. But the issues they had with one another were things you couldn’t remedy from your perspective. You were growing ever aware of how close by the Queen, Princess, and Knight kept you. Not you minded, as odd as the behaviors struck you at time.

They made you feel important, more than a mere Lady could ever dream of. But it also made you afraid, if you lost favor between them it could very well be a factor. In when your maidenhood would end and you would have to wed. If you no longer seemed to wield influence to your family or proximity to the throne.

It seemed like one day the problems between Rhaenrya, Alicent, and Cristion came to a full stop. Much to your confusion, one day the two women were icy towards each other. And the next you all walked the Red Keep arm in arm. With Alicent on your left, Rhaenrya on the right, while Cristion followed closely.

What you didn’t know is that Rhaenrya overheard a conversation between her father, your's, and Otto Hightower. She was simply going to speak with her father at another time till your name was mentioned. She already had a strong dislike of her father’s hand. But his suggestion made her want to feed him to Syrax as a mid-day snack. He was trying to convince them to betrothed you to his son. Her only friend left under the control of that man. She was convinced that you’d be treated terribly, so much so that she immediately went to tell Alicent.

When Alicent heard the news she felt a flurry of emotions. You were one of the only things untouched by her father. But in a sense, you’d be closer to her. But what if your marriage made you as unhappy as she was? Rhaenrya put a comforting hand on her old friend’s shoulder. An olive branch, Alicent realized, that you would be soon be married off. If not to her brother then some other lord. That would surely keep you away from her, and Alicent could not stand this, she wouldn’t.

Ser Criston was then brought into the conversation. She was aware that he, she, and Rhaenrya felt strongly about you. And that Criston and Rhaenrya had spent some ‘time’ together. Alicent never held any of those feelings for her guard, or men in general. But she felt a growing need for you. Rhaenrya devised a bold plan to keep you with them. That Ser Cole would ‘convince’ your suitors or betrothed to change their mind. While Alicent convinced the King to allow Criston to marry. In particular, marry you. And you would continue to live in the castle between the three of them.

Criston could almost not believe what he was hearing. That he could continue to be a knight but have you forever. Granted he knew that he wasn’t the only one between the Queen and Princess. But you would be his to love, worship, protect, sire children with. All he had to do was get his hands a little dirty, but Criston was sure the mother would forgive him. After all, it was out of duty and protection.

[presidenthades]

In your ficVerse do you think the TargBros would still have fallen for their princesses if they had been fathered by Harwin Strong or Daemon Targaryen.

If they’re Harwin’s kids:

Aegon: Yes, and Alicent’s disapproval would probably make him even more interested in Jace tbh. Jace would feel more pressure to keep up appearances with the bastardy allegations on top of everything else, so she might try to keep a distance from Aegon when they’re older. But she would retain her core personality traits of kindness and caring, which is like catnip to Aegon. It would be interesting to see which adults are for and against a Jace/Aegon match in this universe, since she’s still Rhaenyra’s heir.

Aemond: He’s a bit trickier. He may enjoy playing with Luce as children, but he might adopt more of Alicent’s attitude as he gets older. Unfortunately I could see him acting like a dick toward Luce ☹️. She still wouldn’t take his eye, so that helps a little. 99% sure Luce is betrothed to a Velaryon cousin to pacify Corlys so there’s still Velaryon blood ruling Driftmark. (Or maybe Corlys is convinced by Rhaenys to name Baela heir instead? Could be interesting.) Aemond might explode in a jealous rage anyway, even though he’s telling himself he doesn’t want to marry her.

Daeron: Like Aemond, he probably plays with Joff as a kid but is affected by parental influence when he gets older. He would be discouraged from corresponding with Joff when he goes to Oldtown, so that probably causes their relationship to wane a lot. Joff isn’t the kind of person to pursue someone when she knows she isn’t wanted, so she might not try super hard either ☹️.

Reading this over, I realize this falls into the pattern of Aegon seemingly loving his girl more than his brothers do 😅. But mothers usually have a lot of influence on their kids, and Alicent is very bothered by Rhaenyra’s kids’ legitimacy, or lack thereof. Of the three Targbros, Aegon is most likely to rebel and ignore what his mother wants, so he’s willing to open the door to falling in love. It’s possible for Aemond and Daeron to do the same, but it may require some other factors in the story to be changed.

I am very willing to be convinced otherwise! It’s hard to speak with 100% certainty about an AU of an AU.

If they’re Daemon’s kids:

First, we have to consider under what scenario Daemon is able to father the three girls.

Let’s say Daemon is married to Rhaenyra (maybe after the brothel scene), so all the girls are legitimate. Daemon would be less willing to let his daughters grow up with Otto’s grandsons, so he might try to move them to Dragonstone, or at least separate them in the nursery. Otto and Alicent’s wariness about Daemon probably rubs off on the Targbros, so the boys might hesitate to seek out the girls. But if the boys were able to bond with the girls, I think they would all still fall in love. Daemon intensifies his “sitting on the front porch holding Dark Sister like a shotgun” vibes.

If Rhaenyra marries Laenor but has an ongoing affair with Daemon, who’s decided to stay at Westeros and is married to Laena, it’s probably very similar to the above scenario. The main difference would be Daemon doesn’t have a say about the girls’ upbringing, so they probably grow up in the nursery with the Targbros. The girls would look very Valyrian so the bastardy allegations are weaker, although Alicent and Otto definitely have suspicions.

…For some reason, now I’m thinking of another cracky AU where Daemon marries Alicent, their kids are the Targbros and Helaena, and Daemon is coaching his sons how to seduce Rhaenyra’s daughters 😂😭.

Thank you for this fun thought exercise. This totally wasn’t your intention, but now I can’t stop thinking about Daemon being a wingman to the Targbros.

[esther-dot]

Isn't it more Aery's fault than Rhaegar's that Elia and her kids were murdered? Because they were being kept in King's Landing instead of Dragonstone where they belonged? Not necessarily defending Rhaeger but we don't know the whole story yet.

You know, even with the contributing factors, the agency of other characters, Rhaegar is at the bottom of it:

They wouldn't have been slaughtered without the war

We wouldn’t have had the war of it weren’t for Aerys demanding Robert and Ned’s head after murdering his father and brother (+others!)

Aerys wouldn't have done that if Brandon didn't show up screaming for Rhaegar

Brandon wouldn’t have gone to KL if he didn’t believe he had to save his sister from Rhaegar.

Rhaegar's choice to crown and then kidnap/run away with Lyanna is what started the mess which eventually resulted in the death of his wife and children.

So, yes, I do blame Rhaegar.

Rhaegar’s calculation that everything depended on the prophecy baby, the disaster that befalls procuring it not withstanding, was wrong, and no matter how much anyone romanticizes the man, we all know, Martin is criticizing that kind of blind acceptance/obedience to prophecy which means, even in the most charitable of readings, it's ultimately a Rhaegar critical story.

I’ve mentioned before that you can have a sympathetic view of what prophecies do to a person (the girl in grey prophecy messing with Jon in TWOW seems pertinent), and Martin is likely going for a more nuanced take with Rhaegar than I care for considering his position of power and privilege, but all the same, Rhaegar's choices started the mess. And bear in mind, those choices came after he knew how fallible he was, switching from believing the prophecy was about himself to thinking it was his son ie he was willing to risk everything even knowing he'd already fucked up the interpretation of the prophecy .

Furthermore, we can't argue that he trusted his father and was shocked by the man's inability to handle the situation when we have quotes that tell us, their relationship had deteriorated which is prolly something we don't incorporate into readings of pre canon events enough:

Meanwhile, King Aerys was becoming ever more estranged from his own son and heir. Early in the year 279 AC, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was formally betrothed to Princess Elia Martell, the delicate young sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother's wedding. When Prince Rhaegar and his new wife chose to take up residence on Dragonstone instead of the Red Keep, rumors flew thick and fast across the Seven Kingdoms. Some claimed that the crown prince was planning to depose his father and seize the Iron Throne for himself, whilst others said that King Aerys meant to disinherit Rhaegar and name Viserys heir in his place. Nor did the birth of King Aerys's first grandchild, a girl named Rhaenys, born on Dragonstone in 280 AC, do aught to reconcile father and son. When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly, but King Aerys refused to touch or hold the child and complained that she "smells Dornish." (The World of Ice and Fire - The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

and

The Red Keep had its secrets too. Even Rhaegar. The Prince of Dragonstone had never trusted him as he had trusted Arthur Dayne. Harrenhal was proof of that. The year of the false spring. The memory was still bitter. Old Lord Whent had announced the tourney shortly after a visit from his brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent's tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together. Aerys had not set foot outside the Red Keep since Duskendale, yet suddenly he announced that he would accompany Prince Rhaegar to Harrenhal, and everything had gone awry from there. If I had been a better knight … if I had unhorsed the prince in that last tilt, as I unhorsed so many others, it would have been for me to choose the queen of love and beauty … (ADWD, The Kingbreaker)

If that was all Aerys' paranoia, it should have told Rhaegar his father was in no condition to handle a crisis, and if it was true that he planned to depose his father/ act against him:

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return." (AFFC, Jaime I)

well, then there is no excuse for Rhaegar throwing everything into turmoil and abandoning his wife and kids to the care of others when his father already distrusted him, and he didn't trust his father.

And yes, Aerys insisted Elia and the children be in KL, but Rhaegar secreted Lyanna away to Dorne. It's a bit much to swallow that he took Lyanna that distance for her safety, to his wife's homeland, and took no special precautions for his wife, heir, and little girl. It's especially unforgivable when we know Aerys was not only increasingly paranoid, but was a racist, abusive POS, so there were additional reasons why it should have occurred to Rhaegar, he needed to do more regarding their safety.

Obviously, neither Rhaegar nor Aerys knew Tywin would betray them or unleash a monster on innocents, but even when I employ a very sympathetic reading of Rhaegar, I don't think it lessens his responsibility. Rhaegar knew too much, risked too much, to achieve his own ends without the necessary regard for those depending on him:

He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. (ASOS, Tyrion VI)

[agentrouka-blog]

Oh wow I never considered that Olenna might have had a grudge against Sansa for originally being betrothed to Joffrey. That's interesting.

It's so Tywin-esque. Yeah obviously Margaery is an excellent match and if Robert had chosen her for Joffrey, nobody could argue that she wasn't suitable.....

But like anyone with half a political brain cell could understand why Sansa was chosen. She was the daughter of the man who helped Robert win his throne. The Tyrells did nothing. Sansa is also closely connected by blood to three Kingdoms (the North, Vale, and Riverlands) Classism isn't a good thing obviously but it would be a deciding factor here too. The Starks are of a line 8000 year strong and have ruled Winterfell, and they ruled as Kings. The Tyrells on the other hand were stewards that the Targaryens raised up and who have ruled the Reach for 300 years. 300 years is a long time to us but for Westerosi it's basically last week.

I can't think of a different reason.

I don't think it's terribly rational, deep down. The sheer determination to get Some Kind of Crown is both a very Tyrell desire (they were never kings in the olden days) and a Very Olenna desire, as well.

Back before Summerhall, the Targaryens snubbed four prominent families by ignoring marriage contracts: the Baratheons (who rebelled and got a replacement out of it, Rhaelle), the Tullys, the Tyrells and the Redwynes.

Olenna Redwyne-turned-Tyrell claims she "put and end" to her betrothal to Daeron, but the history books tell a different story. Why lie about that, unless it was a HUGE blow? Cersei is still obsessed with Rhaegar, so why should Olenna have been different after marrying her "oaf" of a husband?

So her son marries Allerie Hightower (who has Valyrian ancestry and the silver-haired look, is that an accident?) and after Robert ousts the Targs, her granddaughter is meant for the throne, in Olenna's eyes. Margaery is to fulfill Olenna's thwarted ambitions of royalty.

But Robert picks Sansa for Joffrey. Snubbed again. So maybe Olenna can supplant Joffrey by offering Marge to Robert and help reveal Joff's bastardy? No? Then it's Renly who wages war for the crown (at whose instigation?). No? So it's Joffrey again, ousting Sansa. Or better yet, it should be Tommen. RIP Joff.

And if Sansa, whose claim Olenna may or may not have seriously wanted for Willas, takes the fall for it alongside her husband Tyrion, whom Olenna can't seem to stop mocking, either? Well. That's simply tragic.

[intoxfolklorex]

Open to males 25+ (please read my rules and her bio before replying. please don’t like my starters. this is a beta post. based on the plot in the source.)

There was supposed to be an upside to not being in the main royals, and that upside was supposed to be being exempt from everything like this. Not put in a situation where her father and uncle had agreed to marry her off to some other foreign royal. Of course they’d never factored in how good Zara had become at being invisible and hearing about things that people didn’t want her knowing about. Which was why she had reached out to the man, smiling and gesturing for him to take a seat in front of her. This was a dinner, it wasn’t supposed to be a date. “Thanks for coming. Thought you might want to discuss our upcoming nuptials. That is if you’ve already been made aware it’s happening. If not, you’re welcome. Someone thinks so low of you that they’ve betrothed you to the spare of the spare of the spare and so on.”

[papermatisse]

False Pretenses || W.JH

♗ pairing: merchant!wen junhui x f!reader

♗ genre: angst, fluff, regency

♗ word count: 19.5k

♗ warnings: none (period piece, historical anecdotes)

♗ synopsis: Wen Junhui was the epitome of perfection. Tall, handsome, intelligent, kind, a gentleman, and the list goes on for miles on end. So it is only expected that this man of everyone's dreams was regrettably taken already, right? Betrothed to another, and so condemned from being pursued by any other? But what's to happen if he himself begins the pursuit with another?

♗ (a/n): lol surprise the reason I rewrote my regency beomgyu fic was bc I was reminded of it whilst writing this one lmao.

funny story: this was supposed to be 8k words lmao. but then I kept writing and here we are jskfjsjf. idk how or why but yeh I wrote. please enjoy!

main masterlist

The symphony of strings filled the atmosphere with their delicate and transcendent melodies. Candle lit chandeliers dangled above the attendees beneath them, the lot waltzing together as one fluid mass. Plethora of shades and hues meshed together, blurring like a Monet to form this masterpiece of motion. Mirrors lined the walls, only adding to the grandiose image before her with its decadent lights and colors. Gold trimmings adorned the area they resided in, intricate carvings swirling and writhing together like vines as they stretched up to the ceiling above, revealing this scene of the heavens opened to gaze down upon the people basking in all of the splendor and extravagance of the scene.

A sight most would envy her for, a rarity amongst others yet something so incredibly common and recurrent in her life. The music was nice, yet felt tedious after some time. The people dancing, once a spectacle so wondrous to her as a child now a bore to gaze upon. Even the venue they resided in, a tribute to the baroque era and all of its grandeur, was yet another tacky and bothersome factor upon her life.

Perhaps it was because she had been trapped in this room, standing against the wall for the past hour or so, that she was filled with such spite. Or perhaps it was merely because life was beginning to feel repetitive and empty in its whole. Perhaps she was merely tired at the moment and it would all pass after a good night's rest.

Whatever may be the case, she desperately wanted out. Yet she remained rooted where she was, because her father was elsewhere speaking with the other gentleman at the party, her mother was prancing about socializing with every living thing she could find, and her brother was heavens knows where.

Her cold exterior was enough to ward off any prospective partners seeking a dance with her, and her unladylike stance against the wall had frightened any women from mingling with her. All she had to do was wait and she'd soon return to the comfort of her home.

"(y/n), dear!" Her mother's frantic shouts carried above the orchestra's next piece, drawing some onlookers who spared her a moment's glance before continuing with their own endeavors. "(y/n), my lovely (y/n)."

"Mother, what is it?" She huffed out as her mother had finally reached her, already tugging the girl into a standing position.

"There is a fine gentleman speaking to your brother right this moment." She rambled on as her hands darted to and fro, fixing her hair, adjusting her dress, smudging away any imperfections in her makeup. "Tall, young, handsome, and perfect for my beautiful daughter."

"And his name?" (y/n) raised a brow at the daft woman before her, who merely smoothed away the wrinkles in her daughter's irate expression before glancing back in the supposed direction of said man.

"That's for you to find out on your own once you go over and talk to him." Her mother's hands grasped at her shoulders, attempting to tug her away from the safety and comfort of her corner, but before she could make it even a foot away from her spot, (y/n) raised a hand to her mouth. With one exhale, a loud whistle expelled from her, briefly garnering the attention of passersby who glared her way for a second before returning to their party. The attention span of the average noble will never cease to amaze her.

Moments later, as her mother berated her for her indecent act in public, her brother came strolling over.

"You called?"

"Joshua, mother would like to know who your new acquaintance is."

"I just want to know if he's single or not." She sighed, seeing how she wasn't getting anywhere with her children's mannerisms. Joshua chuckled, rolling his eyes at the usual dilemma of his mother playing matchmaker for the two—an occurrence the two siblings were far too accustomed with.

"His name is Wen Junhui. He's a merchant who's just recently settled here in town for the time being. We've been discussing matters of supplies for father's business, and–"

"Oh, a merchant, (y/n), how splendid!" Her mother whispered enthusiastically.

"–he has a betrothed awaiting him back home." Joshua finished, biting back a grin as his mother's shoulders immediately slackened in defeat. (y/n) nodded with a smile, thanking her brother before he left to return to Mr. Wen.

"Don't be too saddened, mother." (y/n) began. "There's plenty of fish in the sea. I'm sure with your resilience, the next one will surely be the right one." She patted her back mockingly, earning a vexed scoff from her mother who grumbled to herself indignantly. (y/n) could only hear some utterances regarding her mother only wanting the best for her daughter, as well as silent curses for birthing problem children.

The tendency of her mother to scour the premises for prospective marriage partners was a habit that (y/n) had unfortunately gotten used to. Perhaps yet another reason to loathe parties, as it merely exists as another breeding ground of men (y/n) could potentially marry. Wen Junhui was yet another victim of mother's unabashed ogling, and yet another man on the ever growing list of disappointments in the marriage spectrum.

And so she was led to believe that the ordeal was done and over with, as were most of these marital occurrences that so frequently disrupted the stability of her life. That was until the day after said ball came to greet her, or more specifically a certain Wen Junhui strolling into her family's parlor in all of his elegant glory.

As described by her mother, he was quite the fair gentleman. Tall with broad shoulders and a slim waist, long legs that seemed to extend for days. His hair was light and blonde, sort of similar to the dusty yellow shade of one of the gowns tucked away in the back of her armoire. His features matched the rest of him, that being unrivaled beauty to any man she's ever seen. And to make matters worse, his manners were impeccable, already having her mother swooning by the first minute of his entry as he introduced himself to her.

"And over here we have the last of the family, my sister (y/n)." Joshua led the man over to where she rested.

"My lady, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He bowed his head whilst extending his hand towards her, to which she slipped her own gloved one into his as response. He leant down further, pressing his lips against her knuckles momentarily before slowly standing to full height once more.

Though still considered proper etiquette, it was a rarity in their day to greet someone as such. So whilst her mother and father simply continued on with familiarizing themselves with their guest, (y/n) had quickly tucked her hand atop her lap once more, turning her head away in embarrassment at the action. She could feel the warmth of his touch still penetrating through the cloth of her gloves, sending tingles up her arm. Such an old fashioned, traditional practice that she herself was well aware of, yet it was the act of a handsome man performing such a deed that sent this delightful warmth coursing through her veins.

"Mr. Wen, please take a seat anywhere you'd like." (y/n)'s father insisted, gesturing to the many availabilities they had scattered about the room. Her brother seated himself in the chair to her right, and instead of taking the seat beside him, Junhui had planted himself at the other end of the chaise lounge chair that (y/n) was situated on. And like nothing ever happened, the lot continued their discussion, leaving (y/n) to simply deal with her own internal panic.

'He's married, he's married,' she repeated to herself in her head, a mantra which was meant to have quelled some of the nerves alight in her body, yet it had done little of the sort. Junhui's presence alone seemed to completely affect her in such a way that she had little to no knowledge on what else to do.

As if through the blessing of sibling telepathy, Joshua leant closer to (y/n) as Junhui regaled some traveling tale to their parents.

"Is everything alright?" He asked. She nodded, leaning closer to him to continue their silent conversation.

"Yes, though I feel slightly overheated and tired." He nodded, backing away and waiting for the next opportune moment before joining the discussion.

"My apologies for interrupting, but (y/n) isn't feeling too well, may I escort her to her room for the time being?"

"Why, of course," their father insisted. "Send a maid for some water, as well."

"Yes, father."

He helped his sister up, guiding her to the entry of the parlor. Before they could make their exit, however, (y/n) found herself turning to face Junhui once more, his eyes already trained on her as if having never left in the first place.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wen."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady."

"I apologize for having to cut our meeting so abruptly."

"No need for apologies. Please feel well soon."

She offered one last smile before allowing Joshua to guide her up to her room, summoning a maid for some water before retreating back downstairs. Through the thin walls of their estate, she could hear the resounding echoes of the company downstairs, more distinctly that of Junhui's voice carrying through the air and into her room. This low timbre, comforting and mesmerizing even through the obscured resonance from where she lay. It had that same warmth from before blooming in her chest, seeping into her body with this tranquil feeling alongside it.

A smile soon made its way unto her face, yet she chose to ignore it for the time being, burying herself further into her pillow to disregard the incessant flutter in her stomach.

"(y/n), are you okay today?" Juliet peered over from where she walked alongside the girl, pouting when she had blinked in confusion, as if having not listened to a word she was saying at all. "You're usually so attentive. I've already said about a dozen things that would have had you cackling in the most unladylike of ways, yet you haven't spared me anything more than a hum of acknowledgement. And even that feels generous to mention since I do not even think you actually are acknowledging me."

"I'm sorry, Juliet." She sighed, stopping in the middle of the trail they walked. Her friend solemnly gazed upon her, taking pity on the person who is usually so attentive and thorough.

"May I ask what has you so distracted on our outing?"

"Well," (y/n) nervously bit her lip, eyes darting about as if making sure no one were around to hear her admit her shame aloud. "There's this boy."

"A boy?" Juliet gasped, rushing towards (y/n) until she was face to face with her, barely any space between the two as she gaped in awe. "A boy has captured your attention? I didn't even think that was possible. You're usually so reserved no matter the person you talk to. Who could be so extraordinary enough to have won over your intrigue?"

"Well, that's the thing, you see." (y/n) brought her hand up, shielding her mouth as she leant into her friend's ear. "The man who I can't stop thinking about is married."

Juliet backed away, eyes blown wide from shock, yet an amused smirk settling in place.

"You have such an interesting set of standards. Why is it that the one thing you have ever desired is something not attainable?" (y/n) rolled her eyes, continuing with their walk and leaving Juliet to follow close behind. "Is it the fact that he truly is something you're not allowed to have? Like an impudent child who sets their eye on the most expensive of toys? Or perhaps it's the satisfaction you'll receive from having snatched away another person's treasure, like a seafaring pirate."

"Please, you're beginning to vex me with your nonsensical deliberation."

"Why, you can't blame me for being curious. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to tease the almighty lady of the Hong household." Juliet finally reached (y/n)'s side, linking her arm with hers as they continued on. "Or the lady of the Hong house currently, should I say?"

"Still harboring that crush on my brother, lady Juliet?" (y/n) rolled her eyes with a grin as her friend let out a childish squeal.

"Oh, you can't hold it against me. Joshua is the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life. And he's so polite and warmhearted and everything a girl can dream of." The girl sighed, tilting her head to rest on (y/n)'s shoulder. "I'll marry him one day, I swear upon it. And we can then be sisters. Isn't that exciting?"

(y/n) hummed in thought, resting her head against Juliet's as she faux considered for a second more.

"Perhaps it could be fun to have a sister such as yourself."

"You're such a coy thing." (y/n) laughed when she felt an elbow nudge into her side, earning a chuckle from the other girl in response.

The trail stretched on for a while more, the girls whispering and giggling in secrecy as they wasted away their day together.

For the past few days, Junhui had been all (y/n) could think about. Like a fresh wound, ever so slowly healing with its immediate pain and such, yet remaining even as the days stretched on; an irreversible scar meant to forever mar her skin. At least until she grows accustomed to the constant, that being the fact that Junhui truly does reside in her mind at all times, and she is to just grow used to this new presence.

She had begun presuming that her thoughts were manifesting themselves into some sort of self deluded hallucination when at one point, she saw a head of light blonde hair some distance away. Perhaps this withdrawal was assuming itself with consequences, such as imagining the man when he is nowhere in sight. Though that idea soon proved false when a head of black hair turned around, waving his hand upon spotting his sister.

"(y/n), oh heavens, it's Joshua." Juliet muttered, standing upright and separating herself from the girl. "Who is that beside him? Have I lost the battle in winning Joshua's affections?"

"No. You haven't." (y/n) responded, eyes not straying from said man as the two made their way towards them.

"How are you so sure?" Juliet asked, waving back to Joshua when she saw (y/n) frozen in place.

"Because Joshua's current company is already a married man."

It took only a second for Juliet to put the pieces together, head turning to stare at (y/n) in shock. Though she quickly schooled her expression once more when the boys had finally met with them.

"Good afternoon, ladies." Joshua began, bowing his head in acknowledgement to them. Juliet already had her hand extended before Joshua could offer his own, earning a chuckle out of him as he briefly held hers in greeting. "What brings you two all the way out here? I thought you said you'd be having a picnic with Juliet. I presume that would entail some sort of feast at her estate."

"We wanted to take a walk beforehand." (y/n) answered him, eyes glancing to Junhui every so often, only to find him staring back at her unabashedly. The attention flustered her greatly, and she found herself nervously opening up her parasol which had been previously dangling by her wrist. She hoped the contraption would at least shield her expression somewhat from the man's gaze, as she found it hard to hide how much he affected her at this point.

"Ah, I see." Joshua nodded in understanding. "We came to discuss some business matters with Juliet's father." (y/n) smiled at this, a subtle gesture of showing familiarity when not using proper titles towards people. Something the other two most likely didn't pick up on, but (y/n) knew her brother well. It was his way of showing his closeness to Juliet's family—his way of showing his closeness to Juliet. "Though we've arrived earlier than intended. I do enjoy being ahead of schedule, but it seems too early to be acceptable for our intended rendezvous, unfortunately."

"Then perhaps would you care to join us for our picnic?" Juliet asked, eyes brimming with anticipation. "For the time being, that is."

"Thank you for the invitation, Lady Juliet. We'd be delighted to accompany you two, if you'll have us."

"We'd be nothing short of honored to have you join us. Wouldn't you agree, (y/n)?" Juliet turned towards her friend, hopeful smile unwavering as she awaited her answer.

Truthfully so, (y/n) herself was conflicted.

On the one hand, there was the budding romance between her closest friend and her own brother. It was a relationship that felt both inevitable and yet so very impossible, purely for how oblivious the two were to one another's very real emotions for the other. Something so attainable, yet seemingly exhaustive in their efforts. A slight push in the right direction couldn't hurt anyone, (y/n) supposed.

Yet there was also the one concerning factor in the midst of all this; that being (y/n)'s own sprouting affections for a married man.

There really was no alternative to this. She could either stamp out her feelings entirely, or she could ignore them. Either way, she mustn't act upon them, as just the image of his doting wife awaiting her lover's return seemed to ground (y/n) into reality, forcing her to stray from those daydreams that seemed to occupy her consciousness on the daily.

Yet it felt so very uncomfortable to pursue that latter option. To simply push aside one's feelings as such felt so inhumane. It was upsetting how a simple infatuation could feel like such a taboo thing. But with everything considered, at this point it truly was.

The wise thing would be to reject the offer. Insist that the picnic be kept between the two friends whilst the boys head over to the business meeting. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so Juliet and Joshua would fair well. And it would allow her space from Junhui to sort out those pesky emotions that seemed to continuously provoke her. In this case, distance making the heart grow weaker. The juxtaposition made sense in her head for now, at the least.

She looked up at the company before her, taking in the expectant expressions of her brother and her friend. And then she looked to Junhui.

His eyes were so beautiful, just like the rest of him. Round with this innocent glint in them, merely observing her as he would a performance. Yet there was this indescribable quality deep in his gaze, reeling her into their warm depths whether she wanted to or not. Drowning in this dark, unending sea of ember. Perhaps that's what led her to subtly nod her head, locked in this stare down with Junhui, too preoccupied to see the pitifully concealed excitement of the two others.

"Lady Juliet, may I be your escort this afternoon?" Joshua held out his arm, to which Juliet gladly accepted, the two already making their way down the path the girls had just come from.

"My lady," (y/n) blinked away her stupor to see Junhui approaching her, lips tugged into this effortlessly attractive smile. He offered his arm to her, head tilting as his gaze softened. "May I escort you to our eating arrangements?"

"You may," She responded, tucking her free hand into the crook of his arm, her other still nervously gripping the parasol resting over her shoulder.

She hadn't been in close proximity to Junhui before, merely a brief distance away from one another during his prior visit to her abode. She was reminded of his gentle kiss on her hand, as well as the incredible display of power he held over her as she couldn't stop thinking of him since. Considering their former encounter together lasted what felt like no more than five minutes, she felt this current situation was no good for her feeble heart.

"I apologize if my question is rather frank, but Joshua and Juliet… They are courting one another?" (y/n) snorted at this before immediately gasping and covering her mouth, parasol balanced precariously between her arm and her bodice. She looked up at Junhui with a mortified expression, though this only caused him to also burst into laughter, this delightful titter that had his eyes crinkling from how wide his smile stretched. Soon, she herself bubbled into laughter, having to lean on the man beside her for support.

"Heavens, I apologize for that," She spoke between chuckles. "I did not intend to release such a discourteous sound before you."

"No, I quite enjoyed it, my lady. I hope I can hear more of it from you." Her gaze dropped to the path below them, hoping to conceal her perturbed facade from Junhui at his implication of there being more joyous moments like this between the two. Perhaps she was overthinking it. Perhaps he meant nothing more than hoping she continues feeling happy as such.

Though the thought still felt nice to explore. Of simpler times spent beside him, spending days such as this one walking together. He'd whisper sweet nothings in her ear, his breath tickling the thin skin of such an intimate area and spiraling her into another set of giggles for only him to hear. And he'd gladly accept her jovial antics with a heart full of unadulterated love for her and her alone.

What a silly fantasy. One she'd have to stow away for later in her delusional daydreams of the man.

"To answer your question, they have yet to officially court one another." They watched as the duo they spoke of strolled peacefully together, a picturesque romantic scene of two lovers enjoying themselves on such a sunny afternoon. It brought a smile to (y/n)'s face. "Though I presume it won't be long before it truly is official. They are meant to be, you see."

"I do. Indeed I agree with you, my lady." Junhui's voice had lowered, so quiet that only (y/n) could possibly hear him, creating this atmosphere of sorts where only they resided. "And on that note, wouldn't it be nice to perhaps speed up the process some."

"What do you have in mind, Mr. Wen?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I not?" Junhui chuckled at this, a deep rumble in his chest that (y/n) could feel on her arm pressed against his torso.

"My lady, I hold nothing but good intentions."

He slowed their pace some. It was barely detectable, though she was acutely aware of his actions at the moment, curious as to what he had in mind. Soon enough, Joshua and Juliet grew more faint in the distance, carrying on their conversation without having noticed the other two members of the party had severely lagged behind.

"As suspected." Junhui noted, turning his gaze back down to (y/n). "Now they can enjoy their picnic on their own."

"You are a schemeful man, Mr. Wen." (y/n) noted, though she couldn't even finish her sentence without a smile on her face.

"So I've been told before. Come, guide me around Lady Juliet's estate for the time being."

(y/n) found herself willingly doing just so, redirecting him off the main path and deeper into the scenery circling the manor. Lavish greenery surrounded them, a viridescent landscape which seemed to stretch on for miles. At some point, she had given up her parasol, closing it so to feel the warmth of the sun once more. Her heels dug into the earth with every step, giving her a clumsy gait as she ambled through the residence, though she didn't mind one bit. Not when Junhui was there, balancing her with a gentle hand along her back and a thunderous laugh to coincide with it.

At some point, she found the garden maze. It was quaint, serving more as a divider than any sort of complex labyrinth. It's common knowledge to her, yet should have been a cautionary sight for Junhui, yet he seemed to dive in just as eagerly as she, as if having put all of his faith into her as their navigator.

"You know, my mother would not approve of you right now." (y/n) spoke, allowing him to trail behind as she navigated through the hedges.

"I find that hard to believe." Junhui hummed in an amused tone. "I hear she's rather smitten with me." His presence suddenly grew nearer until he was only just behind her, mouth lowered to her ear. In a low voice, more breathy than anything, he continued. "Wants me to be her son-in-law."

(y/n) felt warmth surging to her face, scuttling forward quickly as she waved him off of her, earning more arrogant laughs from the man.

"Perhaps you're right. I presume Joshua and you have been talking matters outside of business?"

"A natural occurrence between friends, yes."

"Though I don't say this in regards to your character itself. You are undoubtedly a gentleman suitable for any mother-in-law."

"You flatter me, my lady."

"However," she started, glancing behind her to where Junhui watched her closely, soft gaze trained on her as (y/n) came to a halt. "Have you forgotten one of the cardinal rules of etiquette?"

"And pray tell what that could be?"

"A lady and a man should never be left alone in the same room?"

It was a simple jeer towards him. Both a means of teasing the supposed gentleman arc he carried, though also a way to test the waters. To take a gander into the mechanics behind his thought process. Catch him in a moment of weakness as he tried to explain why a married man was willingly, and in her honest opinion seemingly ambitious, to be left alone with someone like herself.

She had expected perhaps a flush to cross his features, shaky pupils attempting to find an answer somewhere in the depth of the brush they were plunged in, perhaps even a stumble in his cadence as he tried to explain himself and his intentions, yet she received nothing of the sort.

Junhui grinned, biting his lip to conceal the act, though not fully committed to such a deed. He lazily stepped closer until he stood before her once more, perhaps becoming far too comfortable in her personal space, making himself a home in the metaphorical bubble designated for her and her alone.

"Of course, you are correct, as always, my lady." He started, eyes slowly straying from her own to take in the rest of her features at the proximity they stood in. "Yet you seem to have forgotten one minor detail in such a rule." Her head tilted in curiosity, not knowing exactly where he was going with the conversation. He straightened his posture and gestured grandly about the area, as if the answer was somewhere in the air. "A man and woman should never be left alone unless they are in motion. And if I recall, we are indeed in motion as of right now."

She slapped a hand over her mouth as laughter ensued afterwards, her eyes falling shut at the sheer audacity of the man before her. Never before had she met a man with such gall. A man who strayed so far from the stereotypical gentleman trope yet at the same time clung to such an image. Most men around her showed some form of fear or arrogance, yet Junhui showed none of the above.

His arrogance wasn't rude or disrespectful, but more humorous and casual. The only fear he seemed to display in front of her was in regards to herself, the wary glint in his eye that seemed to mistakenly shine through his facade as she left prematurely upon their first meeting.

He was quick witted and audacious, yet unbearably considerate to those around him. And these were only mere observations upon first impressions within their ten minutes of alone time thus far.

"Ah, there's that lovely sound I've been yearning to hear for a second time." His hand rose to her face, brushing back a hair that had fallen from its place as her giggles had diluted some. "My lady, you should be more liberal with such glee. It looks absolutely splendid on you. I'd love to see it more often."

"I'll only show it when you've earned it." She remarked, turning around and continuing down the maze so as to hide the smile that still etched itself in her expression.

At the end of the brief maze, the hedges lowered in stature until they were merely shrubs, allowing them to look past what they once obscured from their sight. A garden with white stone paths, flowers littering the grounds in unorganized patterns. The speckles of color surrounded the marble decorations populating the scenery. A statue of a lady, the vines of the plants licking at her podium as they accepted her as one of their own. Fountains with cherubs pouring out of a pitcher, a seemingly endless supply of water that trickled down into the base of the structure, filling the air with the hypnotic murmurs of water. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted to and fro, flying past the two spectators as they pursued their next floral conquest.

And past the grandeur of the seemly garden was a river. It was narrow and shallow, allowing a person to safely wade in its waters without even getting their hair wet. (y/n) and Juliet would spend far too much time playing there when they were younger to the point that (y/n) could still remember the sensation of the cool stream numbing her skin, the feeling of the smooth rocks beneath her feet, even the exact spot where a root had plunged out of the ground and tripped Juliet, causing her to plunge her entire body into the water.

This entire place brought back fond memories, warming her heart and reminding her of simpler times. It was a place that was near sacred to her and her friend. So why did she so willingly bring Junhui here? He was practically a stranger, not a person deserving of such a nostalgic haven to her, yet she slid her hand back into the crook of his arm so easily and allowed him to guide her through the area.

It was quiet between them, this peaceful tranquility that soothed away the tensions in her heart. As if momentarily in this instance, in this little pocket of heaven away from the eyes of the world, everything was okay. That warm feeling in her chest, the way her heart beat so apparently, the undeniable comfort that came with being so close to Junhui. None of it was shameful.

She didn't flinch as his free hand rested on top of her own holding him, thumb softly brushing over her gloved fingers. Her head rested against his side, lips tugging up at the corners of her mouth as she embraced whatever fleeting contentment she could derive before the moment would eventually be revoked from her. Before she'd have to settle back into reality and accept that Junhui is not someone she should be doing any of this with.

She shouldn't be falling victim to her own fantasies, succumbing to the temptations conjured by her own psyche, betrayed by her own being as she fell for a man she was not allowed to pursue. A cruel and unfair jest on the universe's part, and one she'll forever hold a grudge against. Offering such a perfect man to her like a carrot on a stick which she'll never capture, only existing to desperately chase after.

And just like that, the day seemed to pass by as if in mere seconds, this warm orange glow settling in the sky as the sun dipped beyond the horizon. The once crystal blue river was now like molten honey as the day waned, and the only indicator she had was Junhui finally speaking.

"It seems it's gotten rather late, my lady." Surveying her surroundings, (y/n) nodded, shocked by how obvious the change had been and she hadn't been made aware at all. "Allow me to escort you home."

She held no form of protest, allowing Junhui to retrace their route and head to the carriage he and Joshua had arrived in.

"Would it not be rude to abandon Joshua here?" (y/n) asked, climbing into the body of the coach with the assistance of Junhui's hand in hers.

"We're merely granting him a viable excuse to spend even more of his time with Juliet. I'm failing to see the issue here."

Junhui was such pleasant company, silly in his mannerisms yet able to hold intelligent conversation for long periods of time. (y/n) was completely enamored by his intellect, a side she knew had to have existed with his merchant background, yet something she had failed to truly anticipate the extent of such information as he began discussing his business matters with her.

"You are well versed in this subject, my lady." He noted with a curious tilt of his head and a fond smile.

"Should I not be?" (y/n) riposted, a coy grin slipping past her facade as Junhui hummed in amusement.

"On the contrary, I find it to be refreshing." (y/n) met Junhui's genuine gaze, his intimidatingly honest eyes seemingly concentrated on (y/n) and (y/n) alone. "Many ladies are condemned from learning such proceedings. It's nice to share such discussions with someone outside of these matters; gain a perspective with no bias."

"I see." She tore her stare from him, instead opting to admire the passing surroundings as they neared her family's estate. The world was slowly growing darker, though there was just enough orange in the sky to make out minor details and simple silhouettes of the trees and buildings which they encountered. "Well as you've said, women are often condemned from learning such things. My parents have never outright forbade me from pursuing such knowledge, but I am keenly aware of the connotations of our day and age. However, I feel the library is just vague enough of a gray area that I can escape the gender restraints subjected unto us."

"So you've your library to thank for such intel?"

"Indeed. A grand library with shelves stretching to the ceiling, completely stocked with every variety of book. And what else is a lady to do in her spare time than to waste away her life reading everything she can get her hands on." Junhui smiled at this, teeth on display and his eyes crinkling as he listened to her speak.

"I'd ought to visit such a place one day." He inquired, voice lowering in volume as if sharing a secret with her. A secret of a married man insinuating a second rendezvous with a young lady he should not be affiliated with. (y/n) cleared her throat, fiddling with the embroidery of her gown as she attempted to bypass his lax mannerisms in speech.

"You must. I'm sure Joshua would be delighted to give you a tour of our home upon your next visit." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, her subtleties flying out the window as the day waned. She dare not look at Junhui for fear of his expression revealing his truth. Of yet another factor to add onto her already ever growing list of reasons to question her reality and everything she had grown to know. Though even with her futile attempts at avoiding his honest expression, she failed to take into account his equally honest intonation he used in every word he spoke.

"I'm sure he would, ever the gentleman he is." Junhui began, voice undeterred by her initial evasion. "Though I'd like someone with proven familiarity to show me about the library, wouldn't you agree? Someone who has shown their validity in this realm to me?"

Finally she met his gaze once more, flustered by how direct he has always been. And he hadn't an ounce of shame from his words, that same smile stretched across his face as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if asking his business associate's sister for a personal tour of their home was a matter that came so often and so common that there was no need for courtesies to be regarded.

But this was not what the world was like.

A man and a lady should always bear some decency in their actions. Unless they are courting one another, they should not be left in the same vicinity alone. A married man should not pursue a lady outside his matrimony in such a way that it can be mistaken for adultery. The two of them have delved into dangerous waters. They've foregone the initial area of concern and have instead been thriving in this forbidden area that they should have never passed in either of their states. And strangely enough, (y/n) felt to be the most victimized in the situation.

The misogynistic tendencies of news outlets to paint the mistress as the villain who broke a perfectly stable marriage, yet here she is thrust into the role of potential mistress with no means of escape. Every fiber of her being cried to run away, leave everything behind, abandon Junhui where he stood because he was no different from a devil tempting her in malicious ways and luring her into a sinful rapture.

Yet this idiotic part of her yearned for him. Desperately sought out his attention in any form he'd grant her. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers when they had walked in the garden. She could hear his laugh playing repeatedly in her head, his voice serenading her as she thought about everything he's ever said to her. He was so kind and witty and funny. Everything a girl could dream of. And she soon understood the mistress in all of those articles, because she truly was on the brink of becoming one herself.

The carriage stopping was like a godsend, an answer to her prayers as she all but scrambled out, hopping down at a mind boggling speed that had Junhui leaping out of his seat to rescue her had she fallen. But instead, she merely brushed off her dress and turned back to Junhui, staring in awe at her after her sudden burst of movement.

"Thank you for today, Mr. Wen. I truly enjoyed our little walk and I appreciate what you've done in regards to my brother and my best friend's prospective marriage. I'd love to hear about how it's gone once my brother comes home, but you really must return to the estate, as I'm sure your business meeting is soon to start. Thank you again." Her words came out rushed and jumbled, sentences threading together with barely a moment's breath spared. Before Junhui could even respond, she was rushing into her home and up the stairs before anyone could question her and see how absolutely perturbed she had become in the past hour or so because of Mr. Wen Junhui.

When she had said she'd love to hear how the matters regarding the soon-to-be couple had gone once Joshua returns, she had intended it to be a sign to Junhui that rather than he tell her himself, her brother instead tells her, thereby cutting off any necessity for the two to ever speak again.

Yet Junhui in his spectacular ways of skirting around the issues of formalities and such had taken it upon himself to skew her words to his benefit.

His first letter had come quite literally the next day when her brother had gotten back, Joshua himself handing it to her before going off to do whatever he does in the day. It was a simple envelope, her name written in swirled ink at the front to show who its intended reader was meant to be. A red wax seal concealed its contents; a simple design of a cat pressed into the seal. From the looks of it alone, it seemed to be devoid of any nefarious purposes. Love letters tend to be doused in perfumes, blue seals with rose and heart imprints. Yet this one seems to lack any sense of personal touch, aside from the cat seal, which (y/n) could only assume was a mere preference on Junhui's part.

My lady,

I hope this letter gets to you swiftly. As swiftly as it takes Joshua to arrive home, as you had made clear to me.

As intended, the two seem to be smitten with one another. Joshua had almost forgotten his entire purpose for arriving at the manor had I not returned after our carriage ride. They seem closer than they originally were, and I believe we've achieved our goal! Though I expect nothing less from such a savvy and clever lady such as yourself. You truly must show me those business books of yours so I may learn from them as you've done.

Jun

Upon reading the first part of the letter, (y/n) couldn't help but to roll her eyes at Junhui's sarcasm, though slowly but surely, she ended the letter with a smile that she couldn't contain. And she made sure to note her distaste for such a letter in her reply, biting back her giggles as she wrote about how discourteous Junhui was and how he lacked in any sort of manners.

With a circular red wax seal, she handed the envelope to Joshua, asking him to deliver it to Junhui whenever he was able to. And what started out as a simple letter with a response became a full fledged exchange of letters on the daily, and perhaps the highlight of (y/n)'s day whenever Joshua would return home.

Junhui was as funny in writing as he was in person, chiding her for using a golden seal once as if he were a lady she was exchanging letters with. Though he forgave her once she changed from their usual formal red seal to a green one—an indicator of friendly relations between the two correspondents.

He also rather obviously insisted she begin referring to him as Jun, as indecent as it were. From his first letter merely ending with the name, 'Jun' slowly grew more and more apparent, from growing in size to becoming bolder compared to the other words to even taking up the entire bottom portion of the page once.

And (y/n) couldn't help but continue the exchange, as wrong as she knew it was. She reasoned it under two friends merely talking to one another, opting to forget the circumstances between them and instead revel in whatever form of Junhui her conscience would allow her to accept.

And for the most part, as stated, it truly was friendly relations. He'd ask what she'd done that day, discuss things he'd seen since his prior letter, even send doodles and newspaper clippings to her. The times he'd seemingly grow more coquettish were times she'd chastise him almost immediately, before then continuing on with where they left off. And it seemed she'd have to do the same thing now, as Junhui supposedly never learned from her admonishments.

"(y/n), dinner is being served." The family's maid announced from beyond the door.

"I'm on my way." Even though she responded, she could sense the woman still lingering in her spot.

"The madam also insists you make yourself presentable."

"For what purpose? Not like we have a guest over." Silence. (y/n) raised her brow, pushing back from her writing desk to finally open the door. The maid still stood there, offering an apologetic smile. "Who is here?"

"Supposedly a prospective marriage partner your mother has been eyeing for you."

(y/n) nodded at this, thanking and dismissing the woman before closing the door. Back in the sanctity of her room, she groaned aloud, begrudgingly making her way to her armoire.

Although (y/n) has been distracted with her internal battle revolving around Wen Junhui, her mother has seemingly long forgotten the disappointment of the failed courtship and has once more prowled for yet another eligible bachelor she could lure home in hopes of having her daughter wed. It was a common occurrence, though nevertheless uncomfortable every time she had to endure it.

Her eyes landed upon that same dusty yellow dress that Junhui's hair had reminded her of when they first met. It brought a smile to her face, at first gentle in nostalgia and remembrance, though then shifted into a sly smirk, opting to remove the gown from its hanger as her own personal gag. To wear a dress that reminds her of another whilst she rejects whoever resides downstairs.

Perhaps through spite alone, her energy came bounding forth when she made her way downstairs, excited to send home yet another man, until she entered the parlor and came face to face with none other than that same head of yellow that inspired her current look.

Junhui turned his head up to her, his grin stretching from ear to ear once she had come into view.

"My lady," he had stood up from his place, reaching for her gloved hand to place yet another kiss onto her knuckles. "You look as lovely as you did the day we met. Your beauty seems to be unwavering."

"Mr. Wen," (y/n) bowed her head, ignoring the rapid warmth seizing at her heart from where Junhui still held her hand in his. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"Mr. Wen? Have we not moved on from such formalities at this point in time?" Her eyes widened at his statement, glancing around in hopes that her mother wasn't around to hear of such nonsense. Though luckily it seemed the only other person in the room at this moment was Joshua, who laughed at his sister's reaction.

"Junhui, stop tormenting (y/n), you know how she is when it comes to holding proper etiquette."

This seemed to silence the imp of a man, though it hadn't stopped the mischievous glint in his eye as he continued to stare at her. Or more specifically, her dress, attempting to absorb as much as he could without blatantly gawking at her. Though still, it was enough to have her dismissing herself from the two boys, scurrying away to the kitchen where her mother was currently discussing meal plans with the chef.

"Mother," (y/n) muttered, shuffling to a closer proximity to her parent to keep her voice low, lest there be stray ears listening about.

"Oh, my dear, you look absolutely lovely." Her mother gushed, nodding to the chef one last time in confirmation before closing the distance between her and her daughter.

"I look this way because you urged me to dress as such."

"Yes, Mr. Wen is just in the other room. Go greet him, I'm sure he'd feel flattered to have such a pretty hostess."

"Mother, might I remind you that Mr. Wen is indeed a married man. Not only is he a married man, but you as well are a married woman. I suggest you cease with your blasted fawning before you manage to upset someone." Her mother sighed, eyes shifting up to the ceiling in consideration at the words spoken.

"I understand where you're coming from. However, he has not directly told me such. So I'd like to continue this potential courtship between you two until he says otherwise." (y/n) clenched her jaw. Not in anger at her mother's words, though rather also considering what she had just said.

It's true that Joshua is a reliable source, as he is their very own son and brother, but Junhui doesn't know Joshua told them. Her mother's reasons, though highly improbable and immature as they are, made some sense in the grand scheme of things, and (y/n) had nothing more to say but to nod at her mother and scamper out of the kitchen.

Luckily, the boys remained as they were in the parlor, laughing freely at whatever was being exchanged between the two. Junhui's voice always carried itself throughout the house, drifting in the air easily and reaching (y/n) where she stood. She wanted to go back in. She had grown more accustomed to Junhui through their letters, though meeting him again in person felt like an entirely different circumstance she wasn't fully prepared for.

Her mother's words remained in her head, the arrogance reminding her of the sole reason her and Junhui first exchanged letters. How the two parties both seemed to ignore implications in words and actions and instead pursued their own endeavors through sheer intended miscommunication. It was funny in a way, though still terribly irritating, especially when she sat at the table and realized how swimmingly the lot got along together.

Banter flowed easily, her mother and Junhui bonding well as they ate. Father was much more reserved, though still seemed rather taken with their guest. Joshua equally so, though as his friend, it was a given that he'd be invested in whatever Jun had to say.

And to (y/n), it felt like the obvious was just lingering in the air, dangling precariously above them all like the sword of Damocles. All it took was a mere mention of marriage for that thread to snap, to have the sword barreling down into mother's dreams of having Jun join the family through marital relations with (y/n). Yet no one dare mention it.

A topic her mother was so seemingly obsessed with was never uttered. Joshua and father likewise danced around the subject, avoiding it as if it were the plague. And funnily enough, (y/n) found herself doing the same. The words felt forbidden, like poison on the tip of her tongue. And when spoken, this entire fantasy concocted by her family would dissolve away before her eyes. For the time being, it felt alright to accept the delusions set up by them all.

Dinner soon came to an end, and by the time they had all finished eating, the sun had long set, the entire outside world blanketed in darkness with only the obscured half moon to offer some reprieve. Her parents deemed it right to invite Junhui to stay for the night, not wanting to cast out their guest on such a dark and dreary night. And as if it were a sign from the gods themselves, some time after Junhui had accepted their invitation, the heavens began releasing this dreadful onslaught of rain, heavy enough to have the roads flooded within minutes of it starting. As such, (y/n) herself couldn't even find any fault in their suggestion, thoughts of Junhui getting hurt and abandoned out in the rain keeping her from even jokingly casting him aside.

The thoughts remained long after she had retired for the night. Images of what could have happened had Junhui rejected their offer of staying for the night. Some righteous part of her brain insisted she'd take the role of some fictitious hero and brave the storm to save him herself. Another part of her brain attempted to rationalize that former statement, saying she'd have done the same had it been Juliet or Joshua out there. Yet that reasoning did nothing to quell the fact that had very well made itself known at this point—that Junhui had nestled himself comfortably in her heart right beside those who she held nearest and dearest.

Junhui was as dangerous a man as one could be. It was concerning how quickly (y/n) had grown so familiar with him in such a short span of time. It was unnerving how happy his letters made her and how she cherished every scrap of paper he sends her. She dotes upon his script as one would a lover, noting every detail of his writing and filing it away under Junhui. She brushes her fingers over his letters to the point that they seem already worn by the time she's done reading, as if she could feel that burning touch of his through the parchment he'd slave over, if his careful and intricate penmanship were any sign of the attention he puts into every message he sends her.

Eventually, it had grown rather late, to the point that she didn't even have to count the chimes of the grandfather clock, as a singular ding sounded through the house. It was futile to even attempt to continue pretending to sleep when all she could think of was everything Junhui. Whether it was one in the afternoon while she busied herself with books and household chores, or one in the morning when she was once more on her own with no other companion than that of the moon, Junhui seemed to remain a resolute entity in her thoughts. Even as she wandered outside her chambers, Junhui was still at the forefront of her mind, and she found that her feet had naturally taken her to the library.

It was indeed a grand archive of books and documents, and she must have read most of them by this point. With a candlestick in one hand, she held its light up to the shelves, browsing through the selections of novels at her disposal, all the while still with Junhui plaguing her thoughts, especially when she reached the business section, nestled in the corner right beside one of the windows of the room. It was a cozy area that offered seating on its large pane, and the angular bay window brought in the perfect amount of sunlight to read for the entire day. She was just about to sit at her usual reading area when she suddenly heard the door click open.

As quickly as she had fled the carriage beforehand, she leapt into the darkness away from the window, blowing out her candle and praying for the shadows to obscure her enough to stay hidden.

As if a cruel and sinister ploy on her part, the tall mahogany doors pushed open, unveiling the blonde newcomer as he padded into the library. His hair was tousled some, though still retaining the general shape of his usual styling. Gone was his coat and vest, instead displaying his flowy white undershirt, neckline untied and parted, revealing a rather generous portion of his collarbones to her eyes.

He looked near ethereal. The candle in his hand flickered with life, casting its warm honey glow across the planes of his face. And in the contrasting cerulean ambience of the moonlight seeping in through the window, Junhui stood there as the outlier. The eccentric oddity he has always been. And it seemed as if he were near beckoning her to emerge from her place of hiding, calling to her like a beacon to a mindless moth.

She couldn't tear her eyes from him, helplessly standing there in this futile battle with herself. He had caught her at her weakest point, after having been assaulted by thoughts of him and nothing else for what has felt like days on end, as well as with her weakened resolve at such a late hour. It was a miracle in itself that she still stood firmly where she resided and hadn't fallen victim to her own inhibitions, so desperately wanting to fall into his arms and let him embrace her. To hide away from the rest of the world, push aside those worries that had hung over her for so long, as if Junhui's hold would erase it all, protect her from the outlash she so feared.

He stood there like an angel, his mere presence enough to weaken her to the point that she shook from her restraint, though beneath this facade, he was more like a snake in her garden of Eden, tempting her into pursuing her personal transgressions.

His back was to her as he browsed the selection of books, fingers skimming the spines as he perused about. (y/n) was tentative with her steps as she mirrored him, ensuring she remained out of his sights. The closer he came to the window, the further she got. She had nearly reached the door when her foot pressed upon a weakened floorboard, the squeak which came from it near deafening in the otherwise silent room. She grimaced as Junhui had also come to a halt, too afraid to turn around and verify for herself.

"Is anyone there?" His voice was low and stoic, unflinchingly rigid, and whether it be from lack of use over the past few hours of nightfall or true hostility, she remained as is, too wary to find out for herself.

Perhaps if she stood as still as she possibly could, he'd dismiss it as the house settling and she'd be able to slip away without him ever noticing. Yet unfortunately, she underestimated Junhui and his perceptive abilities, as he had immediately rerouted to head in her direction. She had no hope from the very start.

She saw her silhouette slowly come to life as his candle grew nearer and nearer, until she was now facing a perfect outline of herself in an orange aura, and beside hers was Junhui's own shadow.

"My lady!" All initial signs of malice in his voice dissipated, replaced by that same saccharine timbre he has always used with her. It was enough to coax her into finally facing him, eyes trailing up to meet his unabashedly joyous smile upon seeing her. Who else would be as elated to see her if not Junhui, whose eyes darted to every feature of her face, cheeks warming and smile widening under the heat of the candle illuminating his expression. "My lady, what are you doing out here? It's far too late for you to be reading, and much too cold!" His free hand patted his chest, as if forgetting he came out of his room without his coat to offer her. His immediate regretful countenance brought a smile to (y/n)'s face, the tension in her body melting away the longer she gazed up at the boy in front of her.

"I'll be alright, though I thank thee for your concern nevertheless."

His expression was so unbearably tender. His soft eyes filled with mirth, dark like cocoa and ever so inviting. She was grounded in her spot, helpless under his gaze. It was as if she were staring directly into the universe held within those deep, brown orbs that seemed unwaveringly fond of no one else but her—as if she was his universe.

And it was frightening. How easily she found herself falling into this world made of only themselves. As if nothing else existed or mattered, as long as they were by one another's side. It was frightening how right it all felt.

It had taken every ounce of her being to tear her eyes from his, head turned to the door she was so close to slipping out of.

"I really must be on my way." She attempted to step away from him, but she froze. His hand wrapped around her own, gently tugging her back to him. His skin was warm against her own, and that heat seemed to slowly trail up her arm, keeping her rooted in her spot, effortlessly allowing him to reel her back to him.

"My lady, please forgive me for my indecent manners, but… Perhaps you may keep me some company?" Junhui's expression faltered some, eyes wavering as they flicked from her to the ground beneath them. "For a few minutes is all. I still have yet to see this business section we've been discussing."

How had he been reduced to such a vulnerable state in mere moments? His usual bravado, that could oftentimes be mistaken for arrogance and the like, seemingly vanished without a trace, instead leaving behind this boy who trembled under her touch, eyes glazed over with this pleading look that was near impossible to deny.

With a minute nod so subtle that it could have been missed if one had blinked, Junhui burst into that same smile that (y/n) found herself more enraptured by day after day. She shuffled ahead of him, softly towing him along behind her as his hand remained in hers, appearing to have no intention of slackening his grip any time soon.

She led him to the window sill, where adjacent to them stood the bookshelf of business and political books she had delved into the previous summer. Some were older classics with yellowed and torn pages while others were the latest edition of recently published novels. She took a seat at the window, knowing that with such a large collection, Junhui would be bound to browse the selection for some time.

Yet instead of the shelves before them, Junhui's attention remained on (y/n), sitting beside her immediately as to not disconnect their hands. At this, (y/n) looked to him, bewildered by his eagerness to remain attached to her.

A fool. There was no better word to describe the way he looked. Mouth agape in wonderment, breathing slowed and steady as if in a trance. Eyes hooded over and glassy, looking as if he were in desperate need of shut eye, yet refusing to close them for not even a second.

In any other circumstance, (y/n) would've corrected his posture and snapped him back into reality, but instead she remained as is, equally captivated by him and his close proximity. Her eyes traced along his features, greedily absorbing any and every detail she could before the moment passed. His candle sat behind him, the light long forgotten as his broad back blocked the glow from her eyes.

They sat there together, under the watchful gaze of the moonlight above them, completely and utterly and unashamedly taken by the other.

"My lady," Junhui whispered, volume dropped until he spoke in nothing more than a breath. He paused, allowing the words to stir in his mind before slipping out. "I truly do hope you aren't entirely irate upon my abrupt request. Especially since I had already questioned you as to why you were out of your chambers at such a late hour."

"You are forgiven." (y/n) responded with a smile, gaze descending to their conjoined hands resting together. It felt so right. It felt as if she were born for this very moment with how destined it seemed for them to be together. How her heart mended together in mere moments, and she hadn't even realized how fractured it had become on its own before meeting Junhui. Yet even with the stars aligning above them, nothing could prove this to be moral.

Not Junhui looking upon her as if she were his sun and his moon, with such earnest fondness pooling in his eyes the longer he's with her. Not the way his hands ceaselessly quake no matter how much restraint he believes he holds, holding her so desperately as if she'd disappear if he lets go, yet also hesitant, afraid of harming her in any way possible. Not the way her entire body seems to be betraying her code of ethics; heart pounding forlornly for him, arms itching to hold him and never let go, stomach fluttering with butterflies and flower blossoms as if spring had come early.

Because in the back of her mind, like an ink stain drenched into the rug, forever there no matter how many items you stack upon it to conceal it—Junhui has a beloved back at home, waiting patiently for his inevitable return.

"Perhaps now that you've found the books, you won't be needing me any longer." She laughed softly at her remark, hoping it would conceal the pain in her voice. The agony that she is the one that has to do what's right. She's the only one attempting to correct these wrongs that have transpired over Junhui's stay.

"Perhaps it's not the books I want." She stiffened at Junhui's words. No implications. No nuances. No underlying meanings at all. "Perhaps it's you that I want. Perhaps it's always been you." His thumb ran back and forth across her knuckles as he spoke, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight, afraid of what honesty his expression held now. "Perhaps there will never be a time when I no longer need you."

Her mind was near throttling her, an internal frenzy taking place, demanding she run far away immediately. As far from him as she can. No good could come out of this. She'd be shunned as a mistress, her family would fall into disgrace because of her impulsive actions, Juliet would even be ridiculed by high society for even being associated with the likes of her. And instead of getting up and fleeing, instead of pushing back against Junhui and refusing his advances, she sat there.

She sat there, eyes glassy with unbridled emotion, lips trembling from the impending tears coming her way. Junhui had raised her hands up closer to his view, fingers interlocking almost naturally. The sight brought a smile to his face.

"I love the way your hands fit in mine. Don't you agree?" Silence on her part. Not that she could even speak if she wanted to with this lump in her throat from the cries she's holding back with all her might. Yet this didn't deter Junhui in the slightest as he continued on. "Ever since the first day we met, I've dreamt of this. Feeling your hands without any obstructions." He brought their intertwined hands to his face, pressing the back of hers to his cheek endearingly. "To feel your touch without those infernal gloves." He slowly dragged her hand down from the side of his face to his lips, shutting his eyes as he gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "To feel your skin against my lips." She wanted to yank her hand away, his touch so warm it practically burned into her nerves, yet it was near addicting. She was slowly becoming more and more obsessed with his touch, in any way she could get it.

He littered soft, mindless kisses all over her hand, having released his hold on her to cradle his face against her palm, lips pressing into the center in the most tender manner possible. The moment was tranquil and calm, everything she had ever dreamt of experiencing, and it was undeniable at this point how absolutely enamored she had become with Jun.

A harsh creak sounded through the library, startling the two who bounded up to their feet in moments. (y/n), who had wanted to run away like prey from a predator, was prevented from doing just so as Junhui grabbed her, spinning the two around and bringing her to his chest. His back faced the door, alert as ever as his arms kept (y/n) safely tucked away against him. And after some seconds passed and nothing came of the noise, they slowly relaxed, tension slipping away as they begrudgingly departed.

"Our house is rather old, it settles at times." (y/n) stated, eyes trained on Junhui's torso.

"Ah, makes sense. I just grew nervous. I didn't want you to be seen in your nightgown."

"Everyone in this house has seen me in my nightgown. I'm sure the only worry we had was you seeing me in my nightgown." She had chuckled at this, momentarily lowering her defenses and gazing up at Junhui. It had shocked her some to see that dazed look in his eyes still remaining. That warm, loving smile still etched into his face as he brushed back stray strands of hair from her face, his touch lingering with every stroke. And she savored every last bit of it she could, memorizing the way the pads of his fingers skimmed across her face, leaving behind undeniable heat in its wake like matches against a surface.

But eventually, it all had to end.

Junhui walked (y/n) back to her room, bidding her goodnight with a kiss to her hand and a charming smile alongside it. She closed her door, standing there for a moment more, still feeling his presence on the other side. That comfort that seemed to radiate off of Jun in waves, granting her one last reprieve of the night, because as soon as he had finally walked away, her reality quickly came back, settling upon her shoulders heavily. This burden that seemed to endlessly torment her wherever she resided.

Her chest grew tight, squeezing into her as if this insurmountable pressure was against her. Those tears she held back finally broke free, the first few drops cascading down her face before a broken sob finally caught up. And in this mind-numbing, monotonous like frenzy, she began moving about her room.

She grasped the letter that was meant to be delivered to him and tore it apart. The dress which reminded her of his golden locks was shoved under her bed, hopefully never to be seen again. The parasol from the day they walked in the garden together was tossed deep into her armoire, in hopes of it never resurfacing and bringing with it memories of him.

Though she finally collapsed in on herself as she reached her drawer of his letters, weak and numb whilst leaning against her desk for support. The beautiful words he'd write to her, the tedious flourishments in his calligraphy in a feeble attempt to impress her, his humor that translated into his writing so effortlessly.

Such minuscule sheets of paper felt like the world to her, clutching them to her chest like a remedy to her maladies.

Like the only piece of Junhui she could allow herself to keep.

The next day, she stayed in her room, long after Junhui had left. Under the guise of an illness, she was able to hide away for a few days more. Though when the doctor cleared her of any disease she could possibly have, she left the confines of her room, opting to remain within the borders of the estate.

Junhui would come occasionally, and she'd sneak off into her room before he spotted her, or she'd be at Juliet's when his visits were confirmed beforehand.

Joshua would hand her his letters. Everyday. Everyday without fail, Junhui wrote to her, neither discouraged nor put off by her lack of response. And as if routine at this point, she'd toss the unopened letter into her Junhui drawer.

It pained her to be so cruel to him. He's been nothing but caring and affectionate towards herself. Selflessly putting her before anyone else, proving she remains in his thoughts even if he's busy, pouring his heart out to her without any form of regret or denial in him. As much as she knew she loved him, she knew he loved her. But what else is she to do? Force him to divorce a lady to be with her? Commit blatant adultery in front of their friends and family as if nothing were askew? How would she feel if she were in that woman's shoes? Allowing her husband to go about traveling as a merchant, with only hopes and prayers that he'd return to her at the end of each visit.

To fall in love with Junhui truly was a divine privilege, an inevitability yet one that felt utterly sublime to delve into. He was as endearing as he was handsome, a dangerous combination to any weak-hearted imbecile out there. And to be loved back was just as much a delight as was loving him.

(y/n) couldn't ruin Mrs. Wen's marriage for her own selfish endeavors.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and in her case, this proved far too correct for (y/n)'s liking as she accepted her fate.

She'd often find herself seated against her door, head leant against the wooden frame to hear Junhui's muted voice talking to her brother. She'd allow herself at times to be more vulnerable in front of Juliet, a rarity that neither of the girls expected from the likes of someone such as (y/n), yet nevertheless went along with it to allow her an outlet to freely yearn over Junhui. And at night, long after everyone had fallen asleep, (y/n) would lay beside her desk, thumbing through those letters, rereading his words, tracing his cursive, more often than not falling asleep with one cradled to her chest.

She longed for him, more than she ever had before. Her feelings hadn't waned in the slightest as she had initially believed them to do. They remained as is, with her heart tugging forward in hopes of searching for Jun and reuniting with him. Though she feared ever meeting him again. Feared what would come of her if she truly did have him once more in her grasp. She had exhausted all of her restraint in the library that day.

Twas better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. She hoped this proved as true as the former statement. She hoped that upon Junhui's departure, she'd willingly let him go. Accept the heartache as growth, a cornerstone in her life to revisit when she was older and wiser. To perhaps laugh it off and tell it at teatime with the other ladies in town. About how smitten (y/n) had become for a married man. They'd all laugh about it, and so will (y/n). Ignore the pain that will linger in her heart for years to come and just laugh.

But how long will it take? How long does a broken heart take to recover? How many more nights of crying herself to sleep will it take for her to finally grow numb? For the wounds to cease its bleeding and begin healing? Is it more like a scar, forever residing there as a faded memory of what had once happened, or will it forever be chronic, something that will sting arbitrarily when she sees the color yellow or reads a business book?

Will Junhui think of her 10 years from now? Or will he continue on with life as is? Will he even remember the girl he had absolutely ruined with just his smile alone?

Will she be okay in the end?

Another ornate ballroom. Another orchestra entertaining the masses. Another night where (y/n) stands at the side, warding off anyone who dare approach with her usual cold stare.

She hadn't wanted to come. Her mother dragged her out, insisting she needed socialization after being in the house for so long. And just like every other party they attended, her mother disappeared to mingle, her father off to drink with the other men, and her brother gone to who knows where. Juliet was nowhere to be seen either, perhaps not even attending this banquet.

And so here she stood.

Alone.

Tired.

Dejected.

She felt an elbow suddenly nudge her arm, snapping her out of her daze.

"How can I help you, Joshua?" She asked, turning back to face the crowd after confirming the presence of her brother.

"I've come to ask you the same thing. You look absolutely miserable."

"Thank you. It is the new look I'm trying to achieve. I hear it's rather popular among the ladies of high society—"

"Will you cease with your sarcasm and be serious?" Joshua hissed, sliding into her vision to get her attention. "(y/n), do you not see how terribly worried we all are?" She didn't respond, averting her gaze so as to not feel swayed by the sincerity in his voice. "There's someone that wants to meet you. I'll go get him now."

"Oh, for the last time, Joshua, I am not interested in Soonyoung!" (y/n) huffed, the first emotion she's displayed in the night: complete and utter irritation. "He is a fine gentleman, but I feel nothing for him!"

"(y/n), that's not—"

"I am going to take a much needed breath of fresh air. Please give Soonyoung my best wishes. And with that, good day to you, Joshua. I will see you at home."

Upon finishing her speech, (y/n) stormed off, weaving through the throngs of party goers to slip out the back.

The outside was a stark contrast to whatever hell she had emerged from. The wind was cool with a gentle breeze flowing, picking up stray leaves and petals in its wake. The white stone staircase she found herself on descended into a grand garden, uniform and pristine as opposed to the more natural one she frequents at Juliet's manor. Vines were kept at bay, the grasses evened and trimmed. There wasn't a flower out of place nor a statue out of line.

It felt as miserable as she was.

Though brimming with flowers and the like, it felt lifeless. Every aspect of the garden felt staged, as if a mere facade for others instead of a reflection of its owner. She loathed it, grimacing at every gaudy decor she stumbled upon, at the statues that hadn't a sign of wear upon them, at the flowers that feared growing out of their beds lest the gardener trim those that cross the threshold.

It was perfect. The ideal garden. Not a flaw in sight. And yet she hated every aspect of it.

She collapsed onto the marble bench at the center of the garden. It resided beneath the grand fountain, the focal point of this horrid attraction. But it was the furthest resting point from the party, and it allowed her to finally drop her act of indifference.

Tears began slipping past her waterline, an occurrence which has become second nature to her. She didn't bother to wipe them away, as a fresh coat will only come to replace whatever she erases.

It had been a week since Junhui had departed. The life of a merchant was arduous, ever changing and mobile. And just as he's done for every town before them and every town after, he wrapped up his business and went on his way. The pain was constant, as if he had left town with her heart personally. She remembers sitting in her room, hearing his final goodbyes to Joshua before he left for good. While she knew it was for the better, she truly did feel regretful not saying goodbye to him. She lives with this fact, that she wasted her final chance of seeing Junhui by crying alone in her room. And yet even with the clear avoidance on her part, Junhui still never failed to think of her, as Joshua slipped Junhui's final letter to her.

One with a deep lapis blue wax seal.

Like the others, she tucked it away. Perhaps another day when she's gathered enough strength, she'll open them and read his final words to her. But she couldn't bear it in the state she was in now. She couldn't bear the reminder that she lost perhaps her one true love.

(y/n) could hear footfall nearing her. Her eyes rolled in annoyance, knowing Joshua had sent Soonyoung over anyway. Though I guess it made sense. To the others, Junhui was just another failed suitor, and it was time to move on to the next one.

Soonyoung was indeed kind and handsome, but he was incomparable to Junhui in her mind, as cruel as it may sound. Though the least she could do was amuse the boy one last time before dismissing him like the others.

She felt a coat suddenly drape across her shoulders as a presence descended unto the empty seat beside her, and she felt her heart plummet upon the realization.

"My lady, you shouldn't be out here on such a cold night."

"Junhui." (y/n) shot up onto her feet, backing away instantly as she clutched onto the coat resting along her back.

And there stood Wen Junhui in all of his glory. He looked like an angel having descended from the heavens. This image in white from head to toe with golden accents from the jewelry dangling along his body, his blonde hair gently parted at the center and framing his handsome face so immaculately. He looked as if he had just walked off his marble pedestal, standing before her like one of the many statues in this garden.

It had felt like an eternity since the last time she'd seen him, and the sight had ignited this burning sensation in her eyes. Her breaths came out in puffs of white, the condensed air obscuring her vision as it hid Junhui behind its wall of vapor. Perhaps that's why she couldn't truly take in his face until he had moved, standing in front of her with that same adoring, lovestruck gaze of his.

Her breathing was labored, heavy as if having run about the garden, and it only seemed to grow harsher once Junhui had offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" His voice was so soft, nothing more than a whisper into the night, but it held such unadulterated emotion. This lovingly yearning tone in his words as if on the brink of pleading. And at this point, every function of her body had shut down. That incessant turmoil in her that had resided since Junhui first entered her life suddenly silenced, this peace in her mind that she had seemed to forget was even achievable. With such a clear head, it made way for her body's natural intuition to kick in, and she found herself sliding her hand in his own, drawing nearer to him just as the orchestra's distant playing began a new song.

It was faint, drowned out by the murmur of the fountain before them, yet it was that soft tinkle of a tune that waded in the air around them that created such an alluring, tranquil atmosphere. Junhui twirled her about the area, the tap of their shoes against the stone pavement in unison as they melted into each other's embraces. Junhui's tentative touches that had traveled along her lower back, as if wanting to run his hands over as much as her as he could in their position, had given up their initial courtesy and instead dragged her against him, hands gripping her like his life depended on it. And his unwaveringly adoring stare had her entirely mesmerized by him. That sweet grin of his on display for her, eyes darting to and fro along her face, cheeks rounded from his delight at being reunited once more.

It was a perfect reunion. One she had never imagined she'd ever receive, yet felt like her wildest dream nevertheless.

"How are you, my lady?" He finally spoke, his voice just as honeyed as the rest of his presence. His brows curved in absolute intrigue, as if she were the most interesting thing he'd ever come across. He practically dragged her closer to him in anticipation, if that were even possible.

"I've been well." Her voice had cracked at the beginning of her sentence, prompting her to clear her throat as unnoticeably as she could muster to hide whatever feelings he had begun stirring in her. "And you, Mr. Wen?"

His hold on her had stiffened momentarily, but he proceeded nevertheless.

"I'm… not so well."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright, my lady. It's just been a rather curious past few days. You see, I met this woman." She spared him a hopeful glance, and his eyes hadn't strayed from hers for even a moment. "A fine woman. Intelligent. Thoughtful. Humorous. Fun to banter with." His gaze flickered down to her lips as his own twitched upwards at the corner. "This gorgeous smile that knocks the wind out of you, if you're ever given the privilege of seeing it." She couldn't help but to let out a helpless chortle at this, smiling widely at his words as tears began flooding her eyes. Junhui's dancing slowed some, his hand along her waist trailing up to lay along her face, thumb swiping away the moisture collecting at her waterline. "And I had fallen so terribly in love with her."

Her heart throbbed at his confession, and her head felt light as she stared into his wholly genuine gaze. It was frightening how terribly honest he was at almost all times of the day, yet it seemed even more daunting now with not a person in sight nor any motive aside from his own true feelings for her.

"However," he continued, eyes lowering away from her face as his eyebrows knitted together in thought, "I feared I may have lost her forever." His hand had retreated back to her waist, bringing her to him once more, as if a comforting action in the midst of his momentary distress. "Perhaps it had been due to my indecency one night where my feelings had gotten the better of me." He hesitatingly met her eyes once more, breath stuttering and pupils shaky. "Perhaps I've made her uncomfortable with my presence. Perhaps there's no redeeming myself. Nevertheless, I've wanted to apologize to her. Apologize if I've ever forced her into a situation she found to be miserable, or have made her discomfited in her own home. I'd like to apologize, and hope she finds it in her heart to forgive someone like myself?"

"I…"

It was strange. His words something she had to process for another minute to herself as she sorted through these weird circumstances. He had returned to her to apologize for the night in the library. A night she cherished as her final moment with Junhui, as well as the closest she'll ever come to living out her fantasy of being by his side.

It was both something he should apologize for, for giving her such a wondrous moment that she'll never truly be allowed to claim, as if giving her a taste of her favorite dessert before revoking it from her forever. Though it was also something he shouldn't feel obligated to apologize for. Because he truly did give her this wondrous night she'll never forget. Something she can look back upon fondly and remember better times. It felt almost unfair to apologize for giving her such happiness.

Yet in the grand scheme of things, he still hasn't apologized for the largest issue between the two. So with a resolute mind, (y/n) straightened her back, tilting her chin up assuredly as she pressed on.

"Do what you wish. Do whatever you believe feels right." This brought a smile to Junhui once more, his mouth opening as he was about to spew out his many sincere apologies to her, yet she continued on before he could. "However, I feel inclined to remind you to take into consideration not only you and this person, but perhaps someone else you've seemed to fail to consider." His mouth had shut immediately, brows furrowing as she spoke, as if completely and utterly lost, and this only served to irk (y/n) who held back an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Perhaps someone awaiting you back at home."

"Pardon me?"

Those were his final words before the orchestra had ceased its playing and (y/n) stepped away from him.

"I thank you for this final dance, Mr. Wen. I pray you'll find your way home safely." She curtsied to him as he remained frozen in place, expression contorted into this forced stoicism, yet still riddled with absolute confusion. "I'll be off then. Do not feel pressured to escort me as you always do. I highly suggest roaming about the garden! It's lovely tonight."

And so she once more and for the final time fled from him, hiking up her dress once she was out of view from him to quicken her steps before her tears could fall. She had marched up the stairs at a surprisingly fast rate, garnering shocked looks from those around her who murmured at her indecency, yet she couldn't care less. No one approached her irascible self as she stormed her way through the party, finally spotting her mother towards the back of the room, conversing with her acquaintances.

"Mother, I'd like to return home now." The woman was about to laugh off her words, which was something she frequently heard from (y/n) at these sorts of events, that is until she had finally faced her daughter and saw the despair written across her face. The way her eyes glossed over with a sheen of tears, her lip quivering as she forced it into as straight a line as possible, and just overall barely composing herself whilst in this public setting. Her maternal instincts had finally settled in as she dismissed herself from the other ladies, wrapping an arm around her daughter whilst leading her through the party.

She had passed by Joshua and Juliet, the two looking to her filled with concern, though neither approaching, merely looking to her with this sense of disquietude in their eyes.

Her father had almost immediately summoned their coachmen the moment he'd seen his daughter in such distress, instructing the man to return (y/n) to the manor right away.

It was such a quick ordeal that she supposed Junhui was perhaps still standing there stunned in that garden. And the whole way home, she reminded herself this was for the better.

Though she had laughed at some point upon the idea of just tossing it all away and becoming a mistress to Junhui, it wasn't until she was there being offered that very role that she realized she couldn't find it in herself to be so selfish. It was something she was not in the slightest bit prepared for, in both the case of becoming this person who'd ruin the lives of everyone around her, but also in just the mere act of being granted such a tempting opportunity.

It was unfair that everything had to have resulted in such a way. That she couldn't have just loved Junhui the way she desired. That she couldn't accept his affections for her which had felt so genuine and wholesome. That so many obstacles stood in their way, and it was near impossible for them to have ever gotten their own happy ending.

She thought this as she stumbled out of the carriage and into the manor, lazily dragging her feet along the wooden floorboards as she drowned in her self pity. Yet her body had strayed from its designated route to her room, instead detouring until she found herself standing in the middle of the library. The library where Junhui had showered her in such caring love which haunted her for weeks. A love she'd never experience again.

This was the way life was. A bittersweet exchange. Happiness is a rarity, some being blessed to obtain it so frequently and others merely hoping to stumble upon it as they make their way through such a journey. Life can hold its own humor, able to devastate a person with the slightest of inconveniences or unforeseen circumstances. And (y/n) was merely a victim to life's trials.

It would eventually all pass away. Her torments would soon drift away with the wind as she persevered through it all. It was temporary, she insisted. It was something everyone went through. The loss of a first love. The first person to awaken something in her heart. To brighten her world and show her the vibrancy in everything. The warmth of his hands would forever haunt her own, the love in his eyes something forever ingrained in her memory. And with his absence, he'd take away with him a part of her. Something that will never be there again. Something only he can ever bring about in her.

She mourned the loss of her first love, and she mourned the loss of that part of herself that would forever lie dormant. But this was a chapter in her book she'd have to close. And though it may take some time to do so, it'd eventually happen.

Leaving the library felt more like leaving the book open on its final page, but it was a small step she needed to take. Allow her to stew over Junhui some more, bid him goodbye from her heart, and let bygones be bygones. Because while Junhui couldn't be her last love, he was her first. A position no one else could ever take from him. And while it hurt her, she nevertheless would accept it as such.

The next day came, and she found herself absentmindedly getting dressed. Her head was still hazy from slumber, eyes shutting on their own as she tugged on articles of clothing one after the other. It was early, the morning condensation still clinging to her window as the sun streamed through the droplets, casting warped shadows across her floor as she moved about. The birds sang to her scampering, as if reminding her that a new day was here and it would be a good one.

And it was a relieving omen as she finally exited her room, gloves in hand while she descended the stairs rapidly. She was going to visit Juliet and spend time with her dearest friend, and the sooner the better. Her gloves and bonnet could wait until she was in the carriage to be put on.

"Lady (y/n)." The maid called to her just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes?" (y/n) asked, turning around to face the woman.

"You have a guest."

A guest? This early in the morning? As the sun was still stirring awake?

Her curiosity only grew as the maid halted her in her steps.

"Not in the parlor."

"If not in the parlor, then where would this guest have requested we meet?" (y/n) laughed it off at first, taking the time to start tugging on her gloves before she suddenly paused at the next words spoken.

"He requested you meet in the library."

She stopped, glove still dangling at the tips of her fingers as her laughter was replaced by a shocked expression. Junhui? Again?

There was a small part of her that was becoming irate at his constant reappearances every time she had prepared herself for nursing her heartbreak, though a greater portion of her that had already begun rushing to the library, heart leaping at the prospect of seeing him again.

When she had arrived at the doors, she had hesitated, breath stuttering as realization soon set in. What else could he have to say to her? She's already dismissed him as is. If she had to outright reject him directly to his face, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. Perhaps he was just here for a final goodbye—hopefully he was just here for a final goodbye.

The doors had felt heavier than they ever had as she pushed them open, sliding into the room through the generous gap offered before shutting them behind herself. She hoped for a moment to herself as she faced the closing doorway, but she had forgotten who she was dealing with for a second.

"My lady!" His excited voice sounded out from across the room, and the juxtaposition from the solemnity she had expected was quite jarring, enough to shake her from her stupor as she turned to him incredulously. And there he was, practically bounding to her with wide strides and a manic smile on his face. The sight was terrifying, prompting her to press her back to the flat surface behind her as Junhui finally stopped a foot before her.

"Mr. Wen." She responded, and this time, he didn't even flinch at the usage of his last name, merely extending his hand towards her one gloved hand. She tentatively slipped her own into his, and so began the journey back to that damned window sill, Junhui beginning to ramble the entirety of the way back.

"Good morning, my lady. I hope this wasn't too early a wake up call for you. I haven't been waiting long, if you were worried for that. I just wanted to speak with you once more." He had stopped speaking as he sat them both down, his eyes as eager as a retriever of sorts whilst waiting for her response. (y/n) had to have looked petrified, but this didn't deter him in the slightest.

"Good morning to you, too, Mr. Wen…" Her voice came out as tense as her body was, eyes darting about the room as if hoping for some sort of answers to come to her soon. Answers as to why Wen Junhui sat there so enthusiastically before her as if she hadn't already declined his feelings as subtly as she could. "I was actually already awake. You see, I plan to visit Juliet today. So I was already dressed and ready."

She hoped he'd get the message. That she already had plans and that this meeting should go as quickly as humanly possible, but yet again, he chose to pick his own story.

"Oh, how delightful!" He let out a breathy laugh, eyes still trailing across her face before finally some resolution settled in his features. "I wouldn't want to disturb your set plans, so I thank you for taking out some time from your day for me."

The guilt bit at her heart at his word choice, at how grateful he was for her having just sat down for him, but nevertheless she nodded and allowed him to continue on.

"I actually came here to continue our discussion from last night. I felt it hadn't ended the way I wanted it to."

(y/n) scoffed at this, almost amused at how arrogant his words were.

"Well, I'm sorry the conversation did not fit your standards of social expectations, but I feel it ended as well as it could regarding the circumstances." He lit up almost at the end of her sentence, smile coming back into place as she sat up.

"No, that's the thing. The circumstances you speak of are gravely misinterpreted."

"What ever could you mean?" She tilted her head at this, still failing to grasp what route Junhui could possibly be taking their meeting.

"Well, I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest. That's not to say I've lied directly to you, but perhaps the lies I've spouted to others have finally come back to bite me." He pursed his lips into a thin line, eyes wandering up in thought, as if deliberating once more on these supposed lies he's gotten himself tangled in. With a shake of his head, he returned his attention to her. "Please, allow me to explain. I know I don't deserve a moment, but please spare me a moment to try and salvage what has transpired?"

She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes before nodding at his request. He scooted closer to her, back with that enthused smile on his face as he held her hand in his, thumb softly stroking the skin beneath the glove's seam.

"So as you know, I'm rather handsome."

She snorted at this, hand slapping against her mouth as he chuckled at her reaction.

"That's how you've decided to start this conversation?"

"Yes, now allow me to continue." (y/n) nodded, granting him permission to continue speaking, though this time more lighthearted as a smile fell upon her lips.

"Go on, Adonis."

"Anyways, I am burdened by my good looks, you see? Though it is something I must live with." She bit her lip, attempting to contain the laugh wanting to burst from her, but nodding again, indicating she was paying attention. "And so when I go to places, I'm often courted by many a fair lady. I'm sure your first impression of me was something along the lines of a potential marriage partner, was it not?"

"I'm afraid so." She answered, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage. "My mother was quite smitten when she first laid her eyes upon you."

Junhui laughed, thumb slipping further into her gloves until it rested at the base of her palm.

"As most are. I am something of a mother-in-law wrangler."

This time, she couldn't help but laugh aloud, leaning on Junhui for support as he also laughed, shoulders bouncing with glee where her head rested. When things had finally settled some, he continued with his plight.

"It was around the time I had first became a merchant that I realized this. I'd go to a different town, come to know the people, get a handful of marriage requests, and I'd have to reject each and every one." He pouted, slouching against the window behind him. "I don't like hurting people. I don't like breaking hearts. But it was something that became so frequent with my job." He glanced over at her to make sure she was still listening, and when he saw he had her undivided attention, he proceeded. "So I came up with a diversion of sorts. To already be betrothed before anyone asks me. So as to not outright reject anyone anymore, but also to easily ward off future marriage prospects."

(y/n) hummed at this, realizing it truly did work that first night at the ball. Her mother had looked so defeated and downtrodden as she came to terms with Junhui already being off the market, and hadn't pressured (y/n) to talk to him at all.

But once she finally processed his words, she felt her heart skip a beat. Her eyes widened and her hand clenched around his own, jaw falling slack at the information told to her.

He's not married.

Junhui's lips twitched up into a smile when he noticed her realization at his confession.

"My lady, I am very much so single and available."

That was all she needed before she had all but launched herself at him, laughter filling the air as she tossed her arms around him. Junhui easily caught her, pulling her into a warm, tight embrace as they reveled in one another's presence.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and her arms were beginning to feel sore from how tightly she held him, but she couldn't have been happier. She hugged him just as she always imagined she would. As greedily as she had always dreamt of being. She inhaled his scent as if breathing the open air for the first time in a millennia. She hadn't realized how restrained she truly did feel until her shackles had dissipated into nothing. How liberating it was to love as freely as she so desired.

(y/n) was the first to pull away, though not by far as she sat herself atop his lap, gently carding her fingers through his hair whilst taking in his features once more. Taking in the face that, presumably, now belonged to her very own soon to be betrothed. He smiled, this cat like, sated grin with his eyes shutting under her soft touch. And she was wholly endeared by such an expression, finding herself unconsciously leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

His eyes had fluttered open upon this, though he held no surprise in them. Merely curious wonder as he watched her with his wide, observant eyes. And (y/n) watched back, just as calm as ever.

Within the next moment, Junhui had reciprocated her action, tilting his head so to press his lips against her own.

A gentle, ever so loving kiss. One which held the weeks of yearning from the two of them, yet also the passion that blazed between them. This adoration that once sparked could not be tamed in any way. And it was almost humorous to think otherwise. That a love of their caliber could have been foregone had it not been for Junhui's clarification.

Her hands cupped his face, thumbs softly brushing against his cheeks bones as his hands reached up to her wrists, holding her closer to him as he spoke every silent utterance of his love for her through his kiss, hoping that whatever superfluous words he could have possibly ever managed to profess to her in some helpless way of describing what he feels for her would be able to be conveyed in this manner; felt rather than heard.

Once more, (y/n) was the first to separate, pulling away from his warmth after some few moments later. His eyes remained shut, though his lips had absentmindedly trailed after her own, dazed from such an ordeal that she couldn't help but giggle at his antics, snapping him free from his stupor.

Serene. That was how it felt. Being wrapped in Junhui's arms, feeling the warmth of his soft lips still lingering on her own, falling deep into his sweet, dark gaze, the honey-like embers in the chocolate of his eyes enough to have her drowning in that tender stare of his. And he seemed so tranquil from beneath her, as if having no worries in the world. As long as she was there, perhaps he'd never feel another ounce of anxiety ever again.

"I love you." He spoke first, timbre smooth and delicate as he spoke such fond words. His eyes seemed glassy with emotion, prompting (y/n) to kiss him once more.

They were words she had craved to hear him utter. Something she had dreamt of happening for days to come, and something which had felt even sweeter in person. And soon, all of the turmoil she'd gone through over the past few days seemed redundant. The efforts to hide Junhui from her memories futile as she now embraced him in hopes of him never leaving again. In hopes of forever reveling in this feeling for however long she could.

"I love you, too."

"The weather is divine today, don't you agree?" Junhui spoke as he led the two through Juliet's garden once more. The vines were overgrown, the flowers plentiful and random, and the attempts at achieving perfection had been missed greatly. But it couldn't have been a more beautiful sight, especially whilst beside her love, Junhui.

Things had fallen into place rather seamlessly, as if the flow of things had been momentarily obstructed, though now was able to move about freely with no hassles. Junhui had cleared away any and all misunderstandings rather quickly once (y/n) had accepted his intentions.

Supposedly it had actually been Juliet's father whom Junhui had begun the rumor with, as he has done in every town he ventured to: planting the seed and allowing it to grow and spread to others. It was he who told Joshua, who then told (y/n). Junhui hadn't expected news to travel as quickly as it had, as silly as it sounded. But nevertheless, all was clarified, and soon everyone knew (y/n) was Junhui's betrothed.

His prior betrothed had been promptly retired, though not before having caused a momentary raucous between the two lovers.

"How long have you been doing this betrothed charade?" (y/n) had asked one night as they sat alongside each other in her library. Junhui paused from his reading, humming in thought before answering her question.

"Five years."

"Five years?" (y/n) was taken aback, jaw dropping as she drew away from him to take in all of his person. "You've been dragging this poor girl as a false betrothed for half a decade?"

"No, no," Junhui placed his book down in a panic, pivoting to face (y/n) as he sensed a new misunderstanding to arise. "I've been dragging a poor girl's corpse as a false betrothed for half a decade."

His words, as they usually tended to do, caused even more of a misunderstanding between the two, but he had swiftly explained himself, having used an unmarked grave by his hometown as a name for his betrothed, so that if anyone had dared investigate his motives, they'd come across the grave of a widow's wife, and perhaps feel an ounce of guilt for having dug into Junhui's life.

Yes, he was quite the imbecile, though it was endearing to her, especially as he scrambled over his words moments after the two had confessed their love to one another in the library that day.

She was still seated in his lap as he had begun rambling nonsense.

"(y/n), I truly am madly in love with you. My affections are entirely genuine. Everything we've experienced, every encounter we've shared, has truly been moments with which I shall cherish with my entire being. Aside from this one fib of sorts, I have not hidden anything from the likes of you, nor shall I ever. You shall always be my top priority. I'll take care of you, I'll drop everything at your beck and call. I–"

"Jun." His name sounded so lovely coming from her, as if she spoke such vibrant life into that singular syllable, and it was enough to silence Junhui who stared up at her in awe at how in love he truly was with her. "My dear, you're rambling these promises to me, yet you haven't even verified whether I've accepted them or not." He could hear the tease in her voice, feel the way her heart beat for him from her pulse where his thumb rested over her wrist. But he always enjoyed a good game, especially if no matter the outcome, he'd win. And so he gathered her hands into his own, eyes sparkling with mirth as he gazed up at her.

"My love, though this may not be the most wondrous of locales we could have chosen, nor is it the inimitable romantic moment with which I had dreamt of asking you, but I can only hope you'll forgive my inopportune choice in time and consider me nevertheless. Consider whether you'll accept my affections as they are; truly and wholly genuine in every sense of the word. Though I may lack in etiquette at times, say strange things, conjure deranged ploys that no man on earth has considered nor executed, I still find myself yearning to be by your side, if you'll have me, as your betrothed?"

And how could she say no to such an eloquent proposal? Especially from someone as undoubtedly dashing and humorous as Junhui.

He filled her days with laughter, happiness practically radiating off (y/n) whenever they were together, and he showered her in all the love he could possibly offer a person.

With the security of their now stable relationship, she had also found the strength to open those letters she had stowed away, and it was as painful an experience as she thought it would be.

The first few letters had been vaguely casual, attempting to keep the air of normalcy that had been established in their frequent letter exchanges, but had soon been abandoned upon his realization that she was no longer responding. Desperation sprawled across pages as he tried so dearly to reach out to her. Hundreds of apologies, questions as to where she'd gone, pleads of her returning to him. And that final letter on the day he left—that letter sealed with its deep blue wax—was his attempt at confessing to her before leaving, never to see her again.

"Though strenuous, it is possible for me to hide my affections for you, as I have done through the entirety of our encounters, yet hiding the tenderness I feel for you is not as viable an option for me. I cannot hide the way I naturally care for you, my fondness which reveals itself whenever I am near you. I hide my love for you, yet it seems to seep out no matter how desperately I hold it back. I only wish I could've held on a little longer, perhaps not have frightened you off. I regret my actions dearly. I am left praying for a second chance, as I fear a life without you near."

Life has been terribly cruel to them. Not only had she gone through such hardships, dealing with a love she believed to be impossible to attain, but he had gone through a love he believed to be complex and unrequited.

Yet again, life is funny that way. Life has its humorous moments that seem terribly unfair and tragic, but in the end, it all works out. Perhaps not as smoothly as one would have intended it to, but she couldn't necessarily complain. After all, here she was standing side by side with her beloved Junhui as he regaled her with stories of his latest travels.

"My love, I really must take you on one of my trips with me. What do you say? Perhaps the next one? It's only some few hours from here, I believe." He looked at her hopefully, eyes shining with hope and adoration, the latter being a rather permanent fixture in his gaze whenever she resided in his sights. He was so sappy, yet so endearing. Continuing to send letters to her no matter where he was, surprising her with gifts and displays of his affections, already searching for a manor of their own in town for once they were wed.

He was right. It was impossible to hide his tenderness for her, long before they had even gotten together. He cherished (y/n), treating her as he would his most precious, coveted object. And she splendored in the love he rained down upon her, her only complaint being that she herself seemed to falter in this little game of love of theirs as she attempted to keep up with him. She was sure he'd grow tired of the many knitwear and cross stitch she'd gift him, but he hadn't shown even the smallest signs of growing weary of them, adorning his gloves in the winter and his embroidered handkerchief at meetings.

But the greatest gift they could have ever given each other was merely themselves. In an overgrown, messy garden on a windy day with the sun beaming above them, she couldn't have asked for a better moment.

"I'll go wherever you go, my dear." (y/n) responded, resting her head along his arm and shutting her eyes peacefully. Junhui hummed in delight at this, bringing her hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her wrist, right along her vein where it pulsed against his lip.

"We could even bring Joshua and Juliet along as a double date of sorts. I'm sure they'd enjoy the scenery of the shoreline."

She chuckled in delight at the reminder of her brother and her friend, the two courting one another soon after (y/n) and Junhui had themselves. Apparently they had gotten much closer when they were attempting to get them together, perhaps a much more complicated ordeal than it had been for Junhui and (y/n) to play matchmaker with them, as Junhui was believed to have been married at the time. Though it seemed to work nevertheless.

Joshua had managed to lure Junhui back and into (y/n)'s direction. He was even the one that had cornered him about his intentions with his sister whilst being married—and so enlightened Junhui of the situation at hand, as he then confronted (y/n) the very next day in the library, delighted to realize the misunderstanding occurring.

"I believe they'd like that very much." (y/n) agreed, turning her head to look up at Junhui once more. His golden hair was much longer, pulled back with a ribbon she had tied on him herself in their carriage. He was as handsome as ever, perhaps a beauty that would never fade, with soft, charming features that seemed timeless to her. Her face would heat up whenever his dark, warm eyes landed on her, and her skin would practically burn whenever he'd press his lips onto hers, reminding her of that ageless, apodictic love he held for her; a flame in the depths of his heart that seemed to never extinguish.

"I'd love to show you the ocean." He confessed, seating her alongside him on a bench under a flower archway. That gentle smile of his melted onto his face, a sigh of relief expelling from his nose as he took in his lovely (y/n) again and again. "It's indescribable. It stretches far beyond the eye can see. The waters are cool and the winds are refreshing under the sun." He brushed back a lock of hair from her face, fingers resting at the junction of her jaw where her ears resided. "I'd love to experience everything the world has to offer with you. If you'll allow me."

"That sounds wonderful to me."

Her poor heart couldn't possibly take such tenderness, such warm devotion on a daily basis. This incessant thudding in her chest whenever Junhui held her in his arms, he could quite possibly kill her one of these days from how fatal he was to her fragile heart. But she'd die happy. Knowing Junhui had become her first love, her last love, and her forever love.