#radiant garden's best guard

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Neon Moon

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Rhysand’s sister grapples with a one-sided mating bond that has yet to snap for the Shadowsinger. When a drunken night brings the two closer together than ever, Azriel is made aware of a circumstance that could change the course of her life.

This is a one-shot that is able to be read as a stand-alone fic.

This is also a prequel to Wicked Felina and elements of this prequel will be involved in the remainder of the series. Wicked Felina Part 5

Warnings: Sexual content, alcohol, language, age difference concerns

Y/N - 19 Years Old

When the sun goes down on my side of town, that lonsesome feeling comes to my door.

Pretty moans echo through the walls of the House of Wind only broken by an ocasional deep groan.

I roll over with an aggravated sigh, pulling an overstuffed pillow across the back of my head, covering my ears. Not that it will do any good. Curse being High Fae and the exceptional hearing that comes with it.

I lay awake, taking deep breaths, trying to sink into the starry depths of my mind but Azriel’s hook-up of the week lets out a particularly loud cry of pleasure before her moans are muffled by what I assume is a gloved hand and a low reprimand.

I roll my eyes. He may as well chide her with a warning of “Shh, don’t wake the baby.” by the way he treats me.

Never mind the fact that I am an adult now. I have tits for cauldron’s sake, nice ones at that. I wouldn’t be wearing this oversized, ridiculously soft knit sweater if I didn’t.

And yet he still views me as a child.

It’s cruel to think that on my eighteenth name day, a golden thread snapped. Tethering my soul to him… and yet, he has no clue. That, or he does, and has no intention of acting on it, refusing to view me as anything other than the little sister of his best friend.

I’ve got a table for two, way in the back where I sit alone and I think of losing you.

So I grin and bear it. And if I happen to wear clothing a bit too cheeky when he is around and other males inevitably gawk at my exposed skin, thus prompting the overprotective bat to shuck his sweater off and toss it to me, and then I spend the rest of the night drinking him under the table? Well, that will have to do for now. So, I wait for the day his soul is ready to seek mine.

Y/N - 21 years old

He’s watching her again. He always does. She dances through the room like petals on a breeze, enamoring the crowd with vivacious conversation as she skirts throughout those gathered in the room. How will I ever compare to the radiant and lovely enigma that is THE Morrigan? I shouldn’t feel bitterness toward my cousin and yet I do. I get why people flock to her, she’s kind and lovely, strong, somehow both approachable and unobtainable. She’s a total pain in my ass busybody cousin-acting-as-older-sister I never wanted.

I requested that the band play Azriel’s favorite song tonight. The one time he’ll loosen up and let himself enjoy a moment. It has become a routine, our dance. The one time that he holds me a little closer. The one time I can pretend he sees me as the mature female that I am and not the child I was.

But tonight, the song plays, and it’s Morrigan in his arms, not me. It’s not the first time he’s chosen her over me. When she’s here, I don’t exist.

I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t watch this.

I spend most every night beneath the light of a Neon Moon.

I turn to leave, exiting the hall, winding through the crowd of pompous nobility from all courts. The garden. I’ll find solace in the garden, beneath the glittering stars, among the fragrant blooms. Sneaking down a quiet corridor and out a shadowed alcove, a guard opens the door for me and the warm, lavender scented breeze greets me like a friend. My steps fall swiftly, distancing myself from the evening revelry. As I wind down a path of blooming roses, a loose stone causes my sole to slip, bracing myself for the fall and the sting of rock to my palms. Instead, I am shocked to feel warm, strong arms catching me. Looking up at my savior, a few long golden locks of hair fall over the concerned, emerald green eyes staring down at me.

Y/N - four months later

“Shit, Shadowsinger. You look like you could use this more than me.”

The start of a grin tilts the left corner of his lips upward as an incredulous laugh slips from his throat. Reaching a scarred hand toward the bottle of my brother’s finer wine and swiping it from me.

Azriel’s hazel eyes assess the bottle, giving a raise of his brow. “Looks like you’ve done a number on this one already.”

“I never do things halfway.” I tease. Giving a nod toward the wine that was indeed half-empty. His dark brows rise again as I unveil a second bottle before he could remark on it. “Some Spymaster you are. You should’ve know I’d come prepared with the best selections from Rhys’ secret-” The playful jest is interrupted by the tickle of a shadow trailing up my arm and spiriting the second bottle right out of my hand, eliciting a pout of my lower lip.

“Hey, now that’s just greedy.”

The handsome planes of Azriel’s face illuminate in the twilight, causing my heart to stir. Perhaps it’s the way the night shrouds him in ominous twilight, or the way his shadows sit strewn across his shoulders but I know tonight was hard for him.

Mor had shown up to dinner as radiant as ever, a red dress clinging to her delicious curves, some male she’d picked up at Rita’s on her arm.

Now if you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely

I should leave him alone but I can feel it in my chest. Stoic and broody? Yes. A lonely soul? Also yes.

And damn, do I know I deserve better than to be the female that will never be chosen first? Yes. And yet, he’s my mate and more importantly, my friend.

“Scooch over,” my arm waives in a correlating gesture. “This grass is dewy and cold and this dress is far too thin. Your leathers can handle the chill, I’m stealing your warmth.”

With a small shake of the head, a lock of raven hair falls over his forehead, Azriel scoots, exposing the vacated patch of grass for me to sit on. “Gods, it’s still chilly.” I complain as I swipe one of the bottles back from the Shadowsinger.

“Nobody asked you to come out here.”

“And yet here I am.”

Azriel eyes meet mine, a small flicker of emotion passing behind them. “Yes.” He whispers fondly. “Here you are.”

I ignore the blush threatening to redden my cheeks and fire back at him. “Your breath smells like a vineyard. You’d already gotten started on the drinking without me?”

Recognizing the rhetorical question for what it is, Azriel presses his lips to the bottle, tilting his head back as he takes a long swig of the bittersweet wine. My breath catches as a harsh swallow bobs his adam’s apple. Heat pools through me and I quickly turn away, searching for something, anything to distract from the effect he has on me.

To watch your broken dreams, dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon

Shadows dance around us, like figures on the wind, weaving in and out of the moon’s luminescent rays.

“Y/N…” I turn to face him as a scarred hand reaches for me before seemingly thinking better of it and pulling back. “I didn’t dance with you at the ball.”

It’s my turn to laugh incredulously. “That was months ago Azriel, why bring it up now?”

That peculiar flicker of emotion crosses his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

I pause, taken back by the apology. Had he known how much it hurt to see him dancing with her? Thinking on it, I can’t seem to grasp whether it is better or worse that way.

I freeze, grappling with emotion as he ruffles his hair with a scarred hand, dragging his palm over his face. “Y/N. The conflict that wars within me, it’s… .”

Confusion conveys on my features and I resist the urge to dive into his mind and read exactly what he’s thinking. “What?” I ask as his sentence trails into a void of lost words.

He shakes his head as if he’s already pushed whatever he was about to confess aside. Hurt washes through me and I begin to turn away. A broad, calloused palm grasps my wrist. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He leans closer, his wine addled breath mingling with my own, only centimeters separate his lips from mine.

I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows.

I’m certain he can hear my heartbeat as it roars through my ears. My eyes flutter looking into his heavy-lidded hazel and onyx eyes. His head tilts, low voice barely more than a rumble.

“You’re everything.”

Azriel inhales, his gaze searching mine in a silent ask of permission, preparing to close the hairs-breadth of distance between our lips. Suddenly those lust-addled eyes go wide, nostrils flaring, and he abruptly pulls away, swiping my bottle of wine as he withdraws his hand. “You don’t need any more of this, Y/N. Go to bed.”

My mouth gapes slightly, processing what just happened. “What?”

“It’s late and I have to leave for a mission for your father in the morning.”

He stands straight, stretching out his tall body and those glorious, broad wings, stiff from sitting on the ground.

My heart is crushed, once again. The words that could change it all sitting on the tip of my tongue.

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate.

But his feelings for my cousin still run strong and we have centuries ahead of us. I refuse to be in second place.

Azriel extends a tanned arm to me, eyes now softened, a slight crease between his brows as he takes me in. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get inside.”

Taking his extended arm, we walk in silence through the grand entryway of the House of Wind, winding down the corridors within, stopping at my room, I murmur a rushed “goodnight.” before escaping behind the shield of my door, to the quiet lonesome solace of my room.

I sense Azriel’s presence outside my latched door for several moments before his steps pad down the hall opening the door one down from mine, into his room.

No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried, or how many lies that I've lied telling my poor heart he’ll come back someday.

Azriel

Azriel couldn’t take it. The way the walls closed in around him. Sleep was always just out of reach but tonight, he felt the weight on his chest in a crushing embrace.

If you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely.

He’d spent the past few years dicking around, ignoring the shift he’d felt toward Y/N. For fuck’s sake, she was Rhysand’s little sister, barely an adult. She’d always gravitated toward him in her childhood. Looked up to him. And he cared so deeply for her, like a little sister. And then soon after her eighteenth birthday something began to shift in his chest. Something that he felt so incredibly wrong for feeling - and yet something he’d buried deep within begged him to accept that it was right.

He was a bastard for it and latched onto his feelings for Mor even harder, despite the fact that they’d simmered down in previous years. And then Y/N had changed her demeanor toward him and he knew- gods, he knew she wanted him but he couldn’t do it. Rhys would kill him for it if her father didn’t first. It was so wrong.

And it had gotten harder and harder recently. He’d brought females home, spent more time around Mor when she’d visit, anything to push her away without actually owning up to what his feelings were.

And then Mor had shown up on a whim tonight with some male that she’d picked up gods knows where, he couldn’t even fall back on clinging to her, leaving him forced to face how strongly he felt toward Y/N, so he’d indulged in booze and snuck out to sit beneath the moonlight and drown in his own pool of self-pity.

To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

When she’d found him, any semblance of willpower was gone. Y/N was a goddess beneath the moonlight. Kind, strong, intelligent, and so damned beautiful and, out here, it was just the two of them. So, he’d finally given in. One kiss, one kiss would help him see how wrong this was. And yet as he leaned in, all he could feel was how right it seemed to be.

Until he’d inhaled, taking that final breath of courage to close the distance. That’s when he smelled it, the shift in her scent. Her scent was there but there was something somewhat familiar and earthen intertwined a scent so light and sweet, almost like roses. A scent that was not her own, not of her.

She was pregnant. He had no idea by whom but the realization sobered him up entirely. He swiped her wine and panicked. Did she know? Should he say something? Instead, like the older brother figure he’d once viewed himself as to her, he escorted her into the house and told her to go to bed, ensuring to keep the alcohol out of her reach.

Gods, he didn’t know what to do from here

He spent the rest of the night flying, taking in the stars and the moon as they shone brightly above, ethereal just like her.

He’d go on his mission this week, and Y/N and her mother would travel to the war camp that her father was at to visit him, and when she came back he’d talk it all out with her.

Yes, he’d support her and love her however she needed to be, whether it be as a friend, as chosen family, or as something more. It would all work out. It had to.

Come watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

————————————

Although this is a one-shot, it is also the prequel to Wicked Felina, you can read Part 1 here.

Tags

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Wicked Felina tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters @honk4emoboyz

[syndrossi]

Rhaella and Daemon telling the twins that they are going to have a new sibling.

Of course I can't do anything fully happy, but it's still cheerful enough, I hope!

x~x~x

The way her sons’ brows furrowed in determination when preparing to argue for something they knew would meet resistance never failed to make Rhaella smile, because they were perfect mirrors of one another. She knew what would follow, of course. Jon would make his appeal to reason, and Rhaegar would neatly tailor his argument to best complement it—citing precedence, or invoking sentiment.

What made it all the more endearing was that they held the greatest of power in their hands. The mere mention of their childhood in the Vale—a childhood that wrenched her heart to glimpse in moments of great stress or vulnerability—would shatter any resistance their father might think to mount. And yet neither would ever use it.

Not for the fear of his rage, which burned the hottest for those stolen years and occasionally stirred dark memories for her of another rage, fueled by vanity and wounded pride. But rather because they knew their father’s heart and sought to guard it against such pains.

It did mean that they had to employ their arguments more creatively, which is how she found herself listening to their third attempt at persuading Daemon that they should be allowed to ride their young drakes.

Jon was adamant that it would allow them to better defend themselves, to more efficiently plan journeys by dragonflight, and that it was the safest means of travel from one point to the next. Rhaegar meanwhile cited ancient dragon texts that claimed the deepening of bond between rider and dragon was most crucial when it neared drake size. Then, ruthlessly, he pointed out that Daemon’s council business left him with less time for flights with them on Caraxes.

It took Daemon a brief pause to recover from the blow. “Does the prospect of flight on Vermithor not excite you?”

Rhaegar’s gaze shifted to Rhaella, suddenly uncertain, and her stomach fluttered. He knows.

It should not surprise her. He had been present for so many pregnancies, long and short, and all of them bitter in the end. He would know the fear that haunted her. Aerys had not been cruel, at first. But with every failure, both within her womb and without, he had come to resent her. To blame her.

To join the chorus of doubts within her own mind. Had she eaten this, or not eaten that. Had she slept more. Had she endured the maester’s examinations with more grace. Had she managed to drink his vile concoctions—or tossed them out the window.

It had been so difficult to know where the poison lay, the garden or the seed.

Or perhaps she had been cursed at Summerhall itself. Or perhaps all those lives had been spent so that her firstborn could breathe.

“I shall not be riding Vermithor for much longer,” she said gently, and the faint grimace on Daemon’s face told her that he had forgotten that approaching limitation.

Jon regarded her with confusion. “Why? Is he hurt?” His gaze swept her, then flicked to Rhaegar and back. “Are you hurt?”

“I am with child,” she said, forcing her lips into a smile. This body had not devoured its young yet. Perhaps it would be different. “I shall need to be careful for a time.”

“Oh.” Jon blinked, then he smiled at her, the radiant in his elation. “Those are happy tidings.” His hand reached out, then faltered, and his eyes went to hers in question. She nodded, and he gently touched her stomach. “Hello, little sister—or brother.”

She felt the babe within kick, as though in response. “That is the hope.”

Rhaegar’s hand clasped hers. “Whatever you need, you need only tell us.”

She squeezed his hand, and took a breath, commanding the fear away. “I shall need your help in choosing an egg for the cradle.”

Jon’s smile turned sly. “If we were allowed to ride our dragons, we could more easily attend to our mother’s needs.”

His boldness startled a laugh from her, and she felt the babe kick harder. This one is strong. She pressed a palm to the swell of her belly. Out here awaits all the love and joy your heart could desire, little one.

[doodle-pops]

˚₊‧꒰აWhen You Dodge Their Kisses໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Headcanon: Amras, Argon, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol

˚₊‧꒰ა Amras ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Amras had been in high spirits that afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the gardens of Himlad. You were lounging on a plush bench beneath the shade of an ancient oak, enjoying the serenity of the moment. He had taken a seat beside you, his usual serious demeanour softened by a playful glint in his green eyes.

As the conversation meandered from topics of hunting to lighthearted banter, Amras leaned in, his lips curved into a teasing smile, clearly intent on stealing a kiss. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned slightly away just as he approached. His lips met the air where your cheek had been moments before.

Amras raised an eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious as he leaned in again, this time aiming for the other cheek. You giggled and tilted your head, dodging his kiss once more, leading him to pout dramatically. “So you want to play a game now?” he asked, his voice a playful tease.

You continued to evade his attempts, each dodge accompanied by a burst of laughter from you. Amras’s initial amusement gave way to a charming pout, his lower lip jutting out as he tried to hide his disappointment behind a mask of feigned seriousness. “When I catch you, you’ll be sorry, arimelda,” he said, his voice tinged with playful frustration.

However, he came to regret those words when you dragged out his attempts for much longer than he anticipated. The sounds of his grumbling and mutterings were far too loud, only fuelling you to frustrate him further by dancing out of his grasp and sticking your tongue out at him. “Ready to give up, or you’re not that much of a sore loser?”

“You may regret those words when I get my hands on you, love,” he exhaled before missing the opportunity to grab your arm. “I want my kiss, so you best come here.”

Fortunately, after a few more failed attempts and your laughter echoing in the garden, you relented—feeling rather pitiful for him—and leaned in, letting him plant a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. So easily did his pout melt into a satisfied smile, his eyes twinkling with affection. “There,” he said, his voice soft and content. “Caught you. I win.”

“Because I let you, otherwise you were going to cry,” you teased.

˚₊‧꒰ა Argon ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The day in Tirion was crisp and clear, with the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves as you and Argon strolled along a quiet path. His conversation was animated, full of stories from his recent scouting trips, but his eyes kept darting to you with an unmistakable glimmer of mischief.

As Argon spoke, he leaned in, his lips poised for a kiss. You, with a grin playing on your lips, deftly leaned away, causing his kiss to miss its mark. His expression shifted from playful to a feigned look of hurt. “Are you challenging me?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Undeterred, Argon tried again, this time attempting to catch you off guard by leaning in from the other side. You shifted subtly, avoiding his kiss once more, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Hey, quit being difficult,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and mock frustration.

Each time he leaned in, you managed to dodge, and Argon’s pout grew more pronounced. His usually confident demeanour softened as he pretended to be hurt by your playful rejection. “Hold still for a moment,” he said, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “Or I’ll bite you alongside all those kisses.”

“Oh, what a dreadful threat,” you mocked with your hands to your face. “I feel terror in my bones.”

“Don’t,” he strained as he missed you by an inch and nearly crashed into the bird’s fountain, “tempt me, you little rascal.”

Finally, with one last playful dodge, you relented after feeling sorry for his out of breath status, allowing him to catch you in a sweet, tender kiss. His pout immediately transformed into a radiant smile, and he pulled you into a warm embrace. “See! That wasn’t so very hard you little cretin,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close to prevent you from running off if you had any more bright ideas.

“Only because you looked like you were out of breath.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Aegnor ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Aegnor’s sea-green eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips curving into that charming smile that always made your heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to close the distance, you turned your head to the side, pretending to admire the landscape of Dorthonion. Blinking, momentarily taken aback, he chuckled softly.

“Admiring the view, are we?” he teased, his voice low and melodic, but you kept your gaze on the trees, feigning innocence.

He tried again, leaning in with a bit more determination, but you stepped away, pretending to adjust your hair. Aegnor’s smile faltered, and a small pout formed on his lips. He wasn’t used to being dodged like this, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what you were up to.

For the third attempt, Aegnor placed a gentle hand on your waist, drawing you closer. “Now, where were we?” he murmured, his voice carrying a playful edge. But just as he leaned in, you suddenly found something fascinating on the ground—a very interesting leaf that needed immediate inspection.

Aegnor groaned softly, his pout deepening. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, sounding adorably exasperated. His brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit like a sulking child.

You finally turned to face him, barely suppressing your laughter as you took in his pouty expression. "Whatever do you mean?" you asked, your voice full of feigned innocence.

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. “You’re too clever for your own good,” he muttered, but his lips twitched, unable to stay serious for long.

Before he could protest further, you reached up and cupped his face, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Aegnor’s eyes fluttered shut, and when you pulled back, his pout had completely disappeared, replaced by a look of pure contentment.

“You’re so annoying,” he murmured against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. But there was no real frustration in his voice, just a warm affection that made your heart melt.

“Only for you,” you whispered, smiling up at him. Aegnor grinned, his earlier sulkiness forgotten as he kissed you again, this time with no interruptions.

˚₊‧꒰ა Rog ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Rog, ever the patient one, had tried to kiss you at least three times that day, each time met with you deftly dodging his advances. The first time, you’d leaned back just as his lips were about to brush against yours, claiming you needed to stretch. The second time, you’d suddenly turned your head, pretending to notice something interesting in the distance. By the third attempt, Rog was beginning to catch on.

He leaned in again, slowly, as if giving you time to prepare for the kiss. But just as his lips were about to meet yours, you moved away, this time bending down to tie your already perfectly tied shoe. When you glanced up, Rog’s expression was a mixture of confusion and the slightest hint of a pout.

“Is there something more interesting than me?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with mock seriousness. He wasn’t one to get easily flustered, but there was a glint of playful challenge in his eyes.

You stood up, shrugging nonchalantly. “What you’re talking about?" you innocently pouted, biting back a grin as you avoided his gaze once more.

Rog huffed softly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his pout becoming more pronounced. “You’re avoiding me,” he accused, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You laughed lightly, pretending to be offended. “Me?! Avoid you? Never!”

He stepped closer, towering over you, and leaned in again, this time with a determined look. “Let’s try this one more time then,” he said, his voice a low rumble. But as he closed the distance, you quickly turned your head, causing him to kiss the air. Rog groaned, throwing his hands up in playful defeat.

“Alright, I surrender,” he grumbled, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He sat down on a nearby bench, looking up at you with the most exaggerated, adorable pout you’d ever seen.

Your heart melted at the sight of this usually stoic warrior looking so adorably disgruntled. Finally, deciding you’d teased him enough, you walked over and sat beside him, gently taking his face in your hands. “Okay, okay, no more teasing,” you said softly before leaning in and kissing him tenderly.

Rog let out a soft sigh of contentment, his hands coming up to rest on your waist as he deepened the kiss, savoring the moment. When you finally pulled away, he smiled at you, all traces of his pout gone.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so charming,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

˚₊‧꒰ა Thingol ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had been seated beside Thingol, engrossed in a discussion about the latest festival preparations. His silver hair shimmered in the golden light, and his deep eyes were fixed on you with an affectionate gleam. With a gentle smile, Thingol leaned in, clearly intent on stealing a kiss.

A soft huff of frustration escaped him as he straightened up, his usually regal demeanour slipping as he pouted, just a little. You bit back a smile, enjoying how this mighty King of the Sindar, tall and majestic, could look so endearing when denied something as simple as a kiss.

“Have I done something, beloved?” he asked, his deep voice laced with playful suspicion. There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes, but you shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know. Did you do something wrong?” you replied, keeping the twinkling of mischief brilliant in your eyes as you glanced up at him.

Thingol narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced, but his pout deepened when you didn’t immediately lean in to kiss him back. He was starting to look more like an annoyed child than a dignified king, and it was impossible not to find it utterly charming.

He tried once more, this time determined to catch you off guard. He leaned in quickly, but you dodged him again, your laughter bubbling up at his exasperated sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the sulking ruler who wasn’t getting his way. A little bit again, he stomped his feet.

With a soft smile, as you suppressed your laughter, you leaned closer to him, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Immediately, Thingol’s pout vanished, replaced by a pleased, almost smug expression as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Now you’re the one who’s out here doing wrong things. You’re being cruel,” he murmured, his voice tinged with playful reproach. His eyes, however, betrayed the fondness he held for you, even as you continued to tease him.

Falling into a wheeze, you tossed your head backwards at his mini tantrum. “You look as though you’re about to cry about it?”

“What if I did?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he whispered against your lips, but the affection in his voice was undeniable. You laughed softly, resting your head against his chest as he finally got the kiss he had been so eagerly seeking.

Masterlist

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[daddypascal17]

𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 |

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦.

*Probably will make this a multi part thing but idk I’ll see how it goes🙃*

You finished plaiting the last braid in your hair before continuing your peaceful stroll along the rushing river in the queens gardens.

You had been welcomed most warmly that dawn by the king and queen of Asgard, but as the princes were on a mission fighting in another realm, you were still yet to meet them.

As a light elf, you had the most radiant spirit and connected deeply with nature. You were a princess, yes, but that wasn’t always what you prioritised. You generally never dressed like one and you never cared for the politics of it all. One of the main reasons you were here now, on Asgard.

After your mother's passing, your father believed that if you spent time around this royal family, that ‘perhaps you’ll learn the proper manners of a princess’, as he had said.

You scoff at the memory. It may have only be recent, but, life hasn't been the same since your mother died. Your father is cold and distant. Life is lonely and dull.

Hour pass as you remain in the gardens, surrounded by animals and natural beauty. So lost in your own train of thought, you don’t even notice that someone has entered your presence.

“I do not believe that maids are allowed unaccompanied in the queens gardens.” The smooth voice snaps your from your trance and you turn to look over your shoulder.

You recognise the man standing before you immediately. Maid...really? Prince Loki; tall, dark, and handsome as ever. Does he really not realise who you are?

You cock your head to the side. “Oh, right. My apologies…my prince.” You bow your head slightly and he raises a brow as you stifle a giggle and run off back to the palace entrance. You decide to reside in your room reading, until dinner time.

----

"My boys. You both look rather dashing." Frigga's soft voice floats throughout the currently empty dining hall.

"Why thank you, mother." Thor replies as Loki smiles silently in response.

"So where is this.. princess.. that is going to be staying with us?" Loki asks, trying his best to hide his intrigue. His current thoughts were solely that of the princess and mysterious 'maid' he had found in the garden earlier that day that he had never seen before.

"Coming right now, and be nice to her, please. She has just lost her mother. She is delicate." Her voice is soft and there's a sadness to it. Your mother was, after all, one of Frigga's closest friends.

The guards open the doors to the dining hall. Meekly, you walk in and bow in front of the royal family before you.

"Rise, child." Odin's voice booms and you flinch slightly.

Frigga smiles fondly and gestures for you to come over. You slowly approach, curls in your hair bouncing slightly as you hold your beautiful, long, flowing dress.

"How are you, my dear?" Frigga asks as she holds your hands in hers.

You hesitate. "I'm okay, your highness."

"Good. And please, call me Frigga." She chuckles. "Here, meet my sons. Thor, and Loki." She smiles proudly.

As you reach a hand out to shake, you realise you shouldn't. Your father would whip your hand if you did that. Not that he's there, but you won't risk it this time. You settle on a curtsy.

"Welcome to Asgard, princess. We are more than happy to have you." Thor shouts kindly. You smile in return, feeling an odd sense of comfort from the large man.

You look over, making eye contact with Loki. He stares back at you, stunned, eyeing you up and down with a curious smirk. You blush and try not to laugh.

"It would seem that Prince Loki and I have actually met already."

---

The room bustled with people, eating their various foods and chatting about nothing. Small talk this, small talk that. Empty conversations will be the death of you.

"So, princess Y/n. How is your father faring?" A rough voice from beside you asks.

You groan internally.

"Quite well. Thank you." You reply through gritted teeth. You smile and silently stand there in hopes that unfamiliar man will leave. But, he doesn't.

"And how is life on Asgard treating you?" Another question you can roll your eyes at.

"Well considering I've been here barely a day, how about I get back to you on that one another time." You throw him a sour smile, handing him your drink before walking away curtly.

You find yourself standing alone in the corner as the night pursues. It seems that gossip travels rather fast here on Asgard as people were already whispering and casting judging glances. Perhaps you were too unnecessarily rude to the man. Well, who cares, maybe it means you can go home quicker.

"You do not care for dancing?" A husky voice asks from behind you.

"You do not care for approaching people like a normal person?" You don't need to turn around to know who it is.

He shrugs, no standing beside you. "I am not a normal person. It is simply part of my charm."

"Well that I sure do not care for." You cross your arms. How much longer until this is over.

"Ouch. You itch so badly to get out of here." He says quietly as he looks out onto the sea of people, who are starting to stare even more so now that you're talking to their prince.

"Don't you?" You scoff. "Look. I've been here a day and already all these people hate me."

"They do not hate you. They simply...misunderstand you, I suppose. Take your honesty as hostility." He shrugs.

"I said one thing! Just the one!" You raise one finger to emphasise and he chuckles in amusement.

"You will get over it, and I assure you, they will too." He tells you, as if he has experienced this before too.

Your eyes widen as you come to a shocking realisation. "If this news gets back to my father he is going to kill me."

Loki scoffs. "Please, with something this tame? I doubt it, princess."

His use of the words princess makes your stomach flip but you ignore the feeling and mumble incoherently back to him.

"I need to shower and organise my room with all my stuff." You say, changing the subject as you anxiously bite your nails, counting down the seconds till you can leave already.

"You do know there is maids for that, right?" He replies smugly, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Yes.. but you do know I'm not one of them, right?"

----

[hornkneebee]

Evening befalls the only stronghold of Jarilo-VI humanity, Belobog. Coincidentally, his shift had concluded early than expected. Or, that the new supreme guardian, Madam Bronya, had forcefully ordered him to take the rest of the day off.

"But Madam Bronya!"

"No buts!" she commands, looking at her subordinate with strictness before softening as she enters a more intimate, friendlier tone, "Please, Sir Gepard, your service is immeasurable but you had little rest since everything that happened."

And that's how Gepard was pushed out of the Qlipoth's Fort and into the streets of Belobog's administrative district. Walking around and doing nothing is not in his job description, or, in his life.

But with the freetime he has now, so he went to the only place he thought of right off his head; the Eversummer Florist shop.

"Hmm? Such beautiful specimen, and the smell are quite lovely as well," he says, inspecting every stems and buds and pots, each with a different kind of flora majestically blooming within the warmth of the flower garden.

To the average belobogians, flowers are few and far between, concentrating only certain places throughout the winter-bound planet. He saw it a few time throughout his lifetime, he even had a greenhouse with a bunch of them back home, but he never had planted one.

Or at least, successfully planted one.

"Mr Landau?" Vaska looks at the guard momentarily. But of course, even though the guard rarely visits the flower shop, Vaska is rather acquainted with the captain of the Silvermane Guard. No one could actually ignore his presence once he entered a room.

"Ms Vaska," the guard smiles awkwardly, sheepishly as he enquire Ms Vaska once more, "Can you... Teach me how to garden?"

He had been facing hurdles upon obstacles in matter of gardening. Despite knowing so much about gardening, he has so little of luck in making anything grow. Hence, he often bothers Ms Vaska about garden-related topics, asking how to take care of specific flowers, to which soil is best, or which fertiliser is worth it.

Of course, Ms Vaska is rather happy to help. A man of his stature visiting their humble flower shop in itself is a service to the shop.

"Gepard?" As Gepard was walking out from the store, a familiar voice calls for him. A very familiar voice, in fact, it was none other than the Trailblazer.

"Trailblazer!" Gepard could only stammers before shaking his head, his cheeks redden.

"What are you doing out?" Trailblazer steps closer, looking at Gepard with curiosity. Their height mere inches away from Gepard's, standing a bit lower than the guard.

Gepard sighs, "Flower shopping?"

"Oh?"

"Don't laugh, but I have..." Rarely does he ever spoke of his love for gardening with anyone he knew, so this was the first time he ever spoken openly about it, "...Interest in gardening..."

"Oh?"

"Oh?"

"I didn't quite take you as a garden person," Trailblazer laughs, shaking their head before grabbing Gepard's hand, leading him out of Everwinter Florist shop, "You got to see them!"

"Them?!" His gloves are enough to warm his hands, enough to fight the cold and prevent frostbites, yet when the Trailblazer partially envelopes his hand with theirs, he felt a newfound sort of warmth. A warmth that he couldn't understand himself. Their warmth is alluring, welcoming, comforting.

"The Express' conservatory! A lot of foreign flowers and plants!" the Trailblazer explains, smiling. Their smile shines as radiant as the sun above, its rays pushing through the clouded heaven above, gracing the earth beneath with warmth.

"You best believe it will blow your mind out of this world!"

[slytherinshua]

FAIRYTALES ARENT REAL

genre. brief fluff. angst. prince au. warnings. angst. lack of communication maybe? pairing. prince!joshua x fem!reader. wc. 1.8k. a/n mostly based on this look from the dream mv. credits to @shuatonin for the gif (it's gorgeous), also this turned out a lot longer than i thought lol.

“You’ll ask me to dance at the ball tomorrow, right?” You said happily, smelling one of the fragrant roses in the palace garden. Joshua tailed behind you, nerves building up in the pit of his stomach the longer he spent with you, but fortunately, you didn’t seem to notice.

“Of course.” He smiled and you turned around to look at him. He could only see pure love and joy in your face, and it made him all the more guilty.

He shouldn’t have even let this go on for this long and given you false hope. There was just no way a prince like him could end up with someone like you. You weren’t poor, but you were of the middle class, high enough to maybe marry a palace official or guard, but certainly not a member of the royal family. No one would allow it.

Joshua was glad that you didn’t seem to catch onto his anxiousness, nor did you know that he was partially lying to try to spare your heartbreak. Though, maybe that was a bad thing, Joshua thought. Maybe it would be better to break it to you now so you would at least hear it from him instead of his actions. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking of possible ways the upcoming ball could go and what the best thing to do was.

He pictured you walking through the doors with your gorgeous smile, adorning an elegant ball gown and looking more radiant than ever. He saw himself walking towards you, masquerade mask on just for show. It wouldn’t do much, as everyone there would already know who he was. Who could miss the crown prince anywhere? He would take your hand and lead you to the centre of the room, the music would play, and he would start dancing with you with everyone watching. They would watch as he ended the dance with a dip and then kissed you. Then there would be cheers from the crowd and aww’s as everyone saw how good you looked by his side. He would look up to the throne and see his father smile as well, giving him an affirmative nod.

But, no. That was all laughably unrealistic. Only in fairytales would something like that happen. Joshua sighed. If only his dreamlike sequence of the ball could become reality. He desperately wanted that, more than anything else in the world. But he wasn’t naive enough to think it was an actual possibility. He wasn’t being pessimistic, he was just being sensible, he told himself.

“-Shua?” 

“Huh?” He shook off his thoughts and looked up again, putting on a smile as best he could. You only called him by that nickname when you really wanted to get his attention. He hadn’t ever told you, but he felt as if he fell in love with you all over again whenever you said it.

“You were really stuck in your thoughts just then, weren’t you? I called you like 5 times.” You smiled amusingly, finding him to be the cutest in the world, especially when his face was scrunched up in thought, lips pouting slightly as if they were begging to be kissed.

“Yeah, I guess I was.” Joshua fiddled with his fingers, a nervous habit that he had developed since he was little.

“What were you thinking about?”

There it was. The question that made Joshua’s heart drop. He couldn’t possibly tell you. He wasn’t strong enough to watch your hopes be crushed. He didn’t want to tell you that you couldn’t be with him, that he couldn’t have you no matter how hard he wished he could. He wasn’t ready.

Joshua glanced through an opening in the hedge, feeling relieved as he spotted some guards patrolling the gardens on the other side. He grabbed your hand and quickly ducked behind another hedge. You knew the drill by now and didn’t question it. Joshua hoped that your question would also be left forgotten as you both waited in silence for the guards to pass.

Joshua peeked out from behind the hedge, pretending to spy on where the guards were at, even though they weren’t going to come close to where you and Joshua were hiding.

“Were they coming this way?” You asked in a whisper, hand still holding Joshua’s tightly.

He nodded, peering over the hedge one more time. “They’re gone now.” He lied, standing up cautiously. You stood up as well, sighing and picking at one of the details of your sundress.

“I should probably go.” You said. You always knew you had to leave if the guards were ever nearby.

As you said those words, Joshua felt as if a piece of him died. Tomorrow was the ball, which meant that this was the last time he would see you. At least, it was the last time he would see you with the freedom to express how much he loved you. As soon as you left his sight, that freedom would leave with you and never come back to him.

He quickly hugged you to his chest, holding you tightly in his arms. You were confused, but hugged him back, pressing your cheek against his chest and feeling his heartbeat, which was beating at a rapid pace.

“Y/n.” Joshua started, tone serious which was unusual for him.

“Hm?” You glanced over his face, taking note of his watery eyes and the creases on his forehead from stress. You had no idea why he was so anxious all of a sudden, but you could pick up on it easily.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.” He mumbled, smiling again. Then he leant down and kissed you, soft plush lips mingling with your own. “You should go now.” He told you, sighing. You nodded and broke the hug first, kissing him quickly on the cheek again before finally stepping back. You walked backwards to look at him for as long as you could, waving and smiling widely.

As soon as you were out of sight, Joshua let the first tears slip out. He stumbled, eyesight blurring from the water, and eventually sat on the ground, back resting against one of the hedges. He sat there until the sun went down to rest and the moon rose only to be blanketed by clouds. Still, a single ray shone beside him as if it was shielding him from his loneliness.

//

It was an hour until the ball, and the palace was bustling with people. Servants were running around getting the final touches ready, officials were patrolling the outside and Joshua was in the very centre of it all. He had to direct everyone along with the help of Seungkwan, his party planner.

“How close are we to being done?”

“About 94% done, your highness.” Seungkwan replied after looking over his list.

“Okay, good. You think you can handle it from here without me?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, Seungkwan. We’re friends.” Joshua urged. Seungkwan nodded as Joshua walked off to his seat. 

He sat on his throne, feeling more sick the longer it went on. He remembered his father’s words to single out the princess from the neighbouring kingdom and dance with her at this ball. If all went well, a marriage proposal would be on its way, and the two kingdoms would become stronger by marrying their heirs.

He sat quietly until guests began to shuffle into the ballroom, big poofy dresses and shimmering suits filling up the large area rather quickly. Joshua retreated to one of the corners, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of you before he broke your heart.

And he spotted you almost immediately, in an elegant black gown. His breath was caught in his throat and he was thankful for the mask he was wearing concealing the tears that would inevitably fall again. His heart broke for the third time in the last 24 hours as he saw your gorgeous smile and eyes searching the room, searching for him.

He stepped into a deserted room and wiped his eyes, pulling himself together. No one could know that the prince wasn’t in love with his future bride. He walked back up to the top of the room where the thrones were, standing by his father’s right hand and breathing steadily, emotions going numb.

You were approached by a surprising number of people, all commenting on how pretty you looked. You thanked each one of them whole-heartedly. An especially pretty lady came up to you, smiling friendly and striking conversation. As you examined her face, you were sure she was at least 10 times prettier than you were.

“Your dress is stunning, what dressmaker made it?”

“Langston.” You replied eagerly, “Who did yours? You look absolutely beautiful in it.” You said in awe of the golden gown she wore, hugging her figure perfectly and complementing her skin tone.

“Keswick from the neighbouring kingdom. I’m from there, you see.” She smiled sweetly.

“Oh! I see. I hope you enjoy your visit here.”

You waited next to the lady, talking with her as you waited for the dance to begin. You learned her name was Viola, and that she was a princess from the closest kingdom. No wonder she was so pretty.

Soon, the entry music came to a close, and all the guests turned their attention to the front of the room, eyes landing on the king, and next to him, the crown prince.

The king made a short speech, and then Joshua said a few words before stepping down into the crowd to choose his dance partner and also the future princess. You exhaled, preparing to dance in front of so many people. It was anxiety-inducing to say the least, but you were up for the task.

You watched him walk towards you, mannerisms much more serious and princelike than when he was ever alone with you. He stopped in front of you, and with a smile held out a hand.

“May I have this dance?” Those beautiful, fairytale words. The words that broke your heart.

In the flash of an eye, Viola was the one up there in the centre of the room, not you. Viola was the one waltzing to harmonious music with your prince, not you. And Viola was the one who he so gracefully dipped, pressing a kiss to her lips soon after, cheers and clapping following.

You couldn’t do a single thing but stand there and fake a smile that wouldn’t last for long, as it was soon replaced by tears. But not even half of your pain was for you. If this is how much you were hurt by it, you were sure Joshua was even more hurt, and he had been for a while you could only guess.

You should have known fairytales were too good to be true.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-bluehair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast

[lumisparks]

Redoing My Old KH OCs Part 1 --

Emi Kaibyo

Hello, everyone! This will be a short series about redoing my old KH OCs. I currently have 7... I think? ... I dunno, I’m losing track of how many I have “^ ^

Aaaaanyway, I’ve always wanted to share my OCs on the internet buuuut looking back... All I want to scream is a big, fat “NOPE!” when looking at their designs and stories.

I was kind of lucky not to share them especially the fact that 5 of them were cat hybrids(how I normally address half-human, half-animal characters). But now I get to upload a better version of them! So suffer with me to see their evolutions! Starting with Emi Kaibyo

--------------------------------------------------------------

1st Version(2015 – 2018)

(🚨 WARNING! 🚨 THESE TWO ARE OLD ART XP)

To start things off, she wasn’t named Emi yet. Instead; she was “Exaleme”, a nobody who used to be Eleame. Ex was the 15th member of the OG Org. Xiii. I made Ex and El when I was in 6th grade as I was new to KH at the time. Immediately, I made Ex because I thought Nobodies were cool as she was my KH self insert. So with my name “Emalee” and smack in the X... Exaleme was born. 

In a previous iteration, SHE WAS FULLY HUMAN. I don’t know why I changed her into a catgirl – but hey! I liked catgirls and now she’s a freak of nature. Now to Ex/Eleame’s backstory... 

It’s an average tragic past: her parents died, she was taken away into the castle, got killed, split into a nobody and Heartless, and she works for Org. Xiii for some -🦆- reason while her Heartless(Eleame) works for Ansem SoD for... SOME -🦆-ING REASON.

As for her personality, she’s supposed to be the shy, cutesy type. But instead in most drawings, she’s all happy or something. Idfk man

Oh yeah, did I mention I made Ex to be shipped with someone in the organization? Yeah... I don’t want to mention who though. I am too ashamed to say it and that’ll be for the best so no one will ever know.

2nd version...?(Around 2020s)

I don’t know if I would call it “2nd version”, it’s more like the processing stage. In the past, I didn’t do much to improve or redo her story because I was busy with school stuff. Despite Ex and Eleame being my first KH OCs, I kind of forgot their KH side of them. How? By going through various RPs and AUs with my friend from KH Amino to Discord.

I did manage to get some ideas though. Instead of having Ex and El being like 1 person, they’re twin siblings named “Emi” and “Elise”. Elise being the joyful older twin while Emi the cautious younger twin. Oh and their parents are alive and healthy. I still want to ship Emi with someone because... Why the hell not. Who would that be?

... ODDLY MICHAEL MOTHER 🦆-ING AFTON(In teen years) FROM GOD DAMN FNAF. IT WAS A ME AND FRIEND DOING RP STUFF THING.

... But also because I like Michael, alright? I’ll find a way to make them work in my KH story for the Kaibyo twins.

✨Final Version✨

Here she is! All human and not a catgirl. Don’t worry, I’m doing her sister next. As for her lore, she lives peacefully in Radiant Garden with her family.

Her dad Fuyu works as a captain of the castle guards while Emi, Elise, and their mother Caitlyn work at the Kupo Kafé. However, the family’s hometown will lose their peace in an upcoming darkness.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Check out part 2! → Elise Kaibyo

[it-was-written-in-the-stars]

◇Dorian Havilliard x Reader◇

♡A song for those who weep♡

Chapter one ○ ● ○

Warning(s): contains mild spoilers for Throne of Glass and Crown of Midnight by Sarah J Maas

Summary: After spending close to a year travelling across kingdoms and venturing into uncharted terrain in hopes of forgetting about your unrequited love, you find yourself back in the Glass Palace. The time you had spent journeying had done little to mend your broken heart. Perhaps facing your problem instead of running away will prove to be the solution to your anguish?

Word count: 1166

[the characters featured in this story do not belong to me]

♡♡♡

He gazed at them as they danced under the night veiled sky, they were illuminated by the moon which loomed overhead. She twirled and moved as seamlessly as a needle diving into silk. She had pealed away from his embrace only to waltz into the outstretched arms belonging to his best friend. As though moving from one dance partner to the next. The girl's hair was a river of sunlight, coiled back to sway between her shoulderblades. A beauteous smile curled onto her radiant face. She was positively glowing as her gaze melted into the deep brown eyes of the captain of the guard. It had once been him who she had danced with, he recalled with a somber sigh. Those jubilant smiles had once been reserved for him.

But now it was he who stood on the side lines. It was now he who watched on, his heart a woeful pile of shattered glass.

Dorian reluctantly tore his gaze away from Celeana and Chaol, to Nehemia who bestowed him with a tight, yet reassuring nod. "I think it's time you let them venture off on a journey of their own" She mused, offering him a sad smile. He let out another long sigh before pressing his lips into a thin line. He pivoted away from the balcony, away from the two lovers who had discovered solace in each other's arms.

◇◇◇

Your heart resembled a persistent drum, pounding feverishly as you neared the Glass Palace which overlooked the bustling city of Adarlan. The chill breeze did little to soothe your nerves as you strode in, nodding your thanks to the guards stationed at the palace entrance.

Quite some time had passed since you last plodded through the extravagant hallways of the Palace. Bile rose to your throat as memories you had frantically attempted to staunch began to resurface, spilling out of you like blood from a fresh wound. Every crevice reeked of recollections, of sleepless nights spent curled up beside the Crown Prince, both of you lost in a gripping novel, of hours spent plodding through the palace gardens. Truth is, you had decided to travel through the lands in hopes of forgetting the unrequited love you had suffered through within the Glass Palace walls. You vividly recalled the gorgeous golden haired assassin who had sauntered into your life and had stolen the heart of the Crown Prince. Of Dorian.

A tranquil melody reverberated down the winding corridor, resonating from where you presumed was the ostentatious ballroom. That could only mean one thing, yet another party being hosted by the infamous King of Adarlan. Organised primarily to bestow his son with courting options. If only the King had known that his beloved son had his gaze set on the prized champion. A sigh escapes your lips as you near the chambers you had once occupied- before you had fled. You curse yourself for having done so. For despite traversing kingdoms far and wide, you had not found the necessary ingredients to mend that gaping hole in your heart.

"Y/n?" A voice from behind you rasps, provoking a flinch out of you. You pivot on your heel, your gaze colliding with the bewitching sapphire blue eyes of the Crown Prince. Surprise marred his features. Surprise and a patent sense of relief. "I- you're back".

A smile blooms on your face, resembling a beauteous flower which blossoms under the kiss of spring. "I am". Your eyes hungrily gobble up his features, as though shaped by the gods themselves.

He takes a step closer, hesitant. His gaze refusing to leave you, as though he were afraid that if he did look away, you would vanish. Guilt embeds itself within you at that. You had vanished. You had left without a parting word.

"Do you- not have a ball to attend?" You ask, referring to the symphony resonating from the ballroom. He lets out a long sigh, casting a sideways glance towards the source of the tunes. "I'm actually in the process of running away from my persistent suitors". A sheepish grin stretches across his face. "Do you fancy escaping with me?" He asks. Heat rushes to your face as you gaze at him, your Crown Prince. A wave of nostalgia hits you with an unspeakable force, pulling you into the sea of sorrow. You are struck by the familiarity of it. "We could go to my chambers?" You suggest, tilting your head in the direction of your old rooms.

◇◇◇

"Did you find it?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe, his crown askew. You look up, eyebrows quirked upwards. "Find what?" You ask, scanning through the leather bound journals that had been piled upon your four poster bed. You were seated beside this lovely stack, your slippered feet buried in the floccose rug which provided a reprieve from the otherwise cold wooden floors. "What you were looking for" Dorian muses, cocking his head to the side, the gesture akin to a dog.

You pause, gaze snapping back to him. You had fled, hoping to fill that empty void Dorian had once occupied. Somewhere along your friendship, you had fallen hopelessly in love with him. You had been selfish to have expected him to return these feelings. But you had foolishly clung onto an unwise hope that he did. That was until you had walked in on him, his lips pressed against Celeana's. You shut away the memory.

"No" you reply, turning away from him, attempting to conceal the look of pure, undiluted anguish that conquered your face.

Dorian pushes away from the doorframe, aiming towards the bed which he reaches in four powerful strides. "You never told me what it was that you were searching for" He states, settling down beside you.

"It doesn't matter anymore- it was foolish" you respond, brushing off the question. Your fingers effluer the spine of one of the books, a deep burnished brown. You pull it out, feeling yourself fall deeper into that pit of despair as your eyes glean the title. A song for those who weep. One of the many novels Dorian had read to you, before you had parted.

The prince peers over your shoulder, acutely aware of how your shoulders had caved in. The moment feels oddly intimate, his breath fanning your ear and neck. "I seem to have forgotten that tale, would you mind refreshing my memory?" He asks, his tone teasing as his grin broadens. Your breathing turns shallow as you desperately try to hide the heat which had rushed to your face. You push away, rising from where you had been seated. You take a steadying breath before turning back to face him.

"I could summarise it for you- but perhaps a better option would be for us to read it again" you muse, quirking an eyebrow at his amused expression. "We could meet in the library, and this time- I'll be the one reading".

His answering smile is nothing short of devious. "I've missed you".

[scalacaelumxx]

Who are your top 3 favorite KH characters? ✨

I'm going to try not to ramble on this forever but thank you so much for sending this ask in! I apologize in advance for the can of worms you have opened.

Vidar (Spoilers for Dark Road incoming) Probably the least surprising thing, but currently Vidar is my top favorite. I'm fairly new to the mobile games, and full disclosure, I did not like him when I first saw him. Eraqus was so upset by Vor leaving (even though it was her own choice) that I genuinely felt for him, and therefor didn't approve of Vidar "taking" her away. But continuing the story and learning that he and his friends were so close to achieving what they had been training for for years, only for it to end in the death of not one of his friends, but four of them. And he can't bring himself to strike down what caused their deaths, because Baldr is just a kid and he (presuming that one line was about Hoder) can't bear to face her if something happened to him after she died trying to protect him His character is interesting, he's got a killer design, you can tell how much he cared about his friends, and the tragedy of risking everything to save someone for your friend, only to die by that person's hand trying to protect the friends you have left. I could talk about him for 22 hours a day.

Saix/Isa I know I don't post about him a lot, but Saix (or Isa) has been one of my favorite characters since my friend introduced me to Kingdom Hearts when I was a kid. If it wasn't for Vidar, he'd still be in the top spot! There's just something about how ruthless he was in kh2 and Days. How brutally honest and blunt his deliveries were, and how his boss fight involves catching you off guard with mechanics that don't seem to suit what you've seen of him until you really look at it and realize it does. His relationship with Axel is hilarious on surface level and depressing when you go deeper. His relationship of being Xemnas' right-hand man (next to Xigbar) while also plotting to betray him is so intriguing. And then seeing those sharp eyes and the barbed words and the ruthlessness in him and seeing those compared to the kid who made fun of his best friend and wanted to explore places he wasn't supposed to be in and help someone he had just met is heartbreaking. I loved his redemption in kh3, subtle in the background as it was, and I'm hoping to see more of him trying to be a better person and make it up to Roxas and Xion in 4.

Zexion/Ienzo This one caught me so off guard. I had gotten back into the fandom after a long while and was replaying through the old games to get caught up and Zexion blindsided me in Re:CoM. He was secretive and quiet, but really held no animosity towards Sora or Riku. Which, compared to the rest of the Organization in the castle, stood out a lot. Considering this, he really didn't deserve the death he got, which is still pretty brutal for a Kingdom Hearts death. Then he comes back and immediately throws everything he has into helping the heroes. They were more of a means to an end before, rather than true enemies, and despite their reservations about him he has no problems spending all of his time and resources into helping them stop Xehanort. He was just a kid when he helped start the fall of Radiant Garden but he still feels so guilty and wants to atone so badly. Plus you get extra angst in the "didn't have a heart for 10 odd years and now suddenly has one and is feeling" department.

Runner ups include: Baldr, Vali, Xaldin/Dilan, Vexen/Even, and Terra!

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 4: Mystery

*spoilers in the notes; read the story first to remain spoiler-free*

Julieta considered herself an organized person. She didn’t misplace things like Pepa, who was perpetually looking for one thing or another. So, when she couldn’t find her calming tea blend, she worried. It was a remedy she felt very protective of, since she knew how easily it could be abused. Townspeople were constantly asking her for some, citing a laundry list of concerns they wanted to quell. Julieta did her best to help but couldn’t always justify to herself giving them what they sought. Sometimes, she had to diplomatically turn them away. And if it involved bending the truth…well, her intentions were good.

Demand had been so high that even Isabela asked if she could help by growing more of the plants in question. It was a sweet gesture, but ultimately futile; the plants needed her nurture to fully develop their curative properties. Most of the plants she needed, she kept on the windowsill in the kitchen, watering them diligently along with the rest of the medicinal herbs in her garden. The more potent ones she kept in her room. Without them, the tea would be useless, and Julieta couldn’t risk anyone getting their hands on them.

After a few incidents in their youth where Pepa decided to partake in do-it-yourself apothecary, Julieta started guarding her remedies more carefully. Her reference book was rewritten in code to prevent others from reading it. While not a foolproof method (Julieta was pretty sure if they… she, just she- wanted to, Pepa could break the code, but she trusted her to come talk to her if she needed anything now that they were adults), it seemed to have worked out so far.

Where could it be? Her eyes swept around the kitchen. Last night she had brewed some up for herself. Planning Isabela’s quinceañera had taken a lot out of her. Mamá had so many ideas; Julieta was pretty sure she was more excited for Isabela’s quinceañera than for either hers or Pepa’s. But it was a huge success, and Isabela had looked radiant. Just when she thought she could rest, there was a spate of farming-related injuries. Of course, it fell to her to ensure there would be enough healthy men to harvest the crops for the town. It was a lot of pressure, but the tea had helped, as it always did, and Julieta now remembered she had placed it on the windowsill over the sink.

She sighed. How could she have been so careless? She would never do something so irresponsible, under normal circumstances. But the stress was getting to her…

The question was, whom else was it getting to? Julieta racked her brain. Could it be Pepa again? Maybe this crop situation was getting to her too.

Julieta managed to corner Pepa as came into the kitchen to drop off groceries (this was as close as Pepa was allowed to food preparation after a few… incidents). “Pepa,” she greeted her.

“Sorry, hermana, can’t stay. I have to go back to town and help… ay, who was it this time?” Pepa blew an errant strand of hair out of her face. She leaned against the counter, breathing deeply.

Julieta could see the exhaustion on her face. “Feeling stressed?” She ventured.

Pepa glared at her. “Obviously. These people have me running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I swear sometimes, if it wasn’t for us this town would fall apart.”

Secretly, Julieta echoed the sentiment, but never voiced it aloud. Pepa had always been the brave one that way. Julieta relied on subtler methods. “You know, if you want some of the calming tea, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yes, thank you, Julieta, I’m aware.” Pepa’s response was snippy as she got herself a glass of water.

Julieta could see she was getting nowhere. “There’s no need to help yourself.”

Pepa paused her drinking mid-cup, looking at her strangely. “You already said that. What’s going on, Julieta?”

Julieta exhaled. Guess she had to tell someone. “The tea went missing,” she admitted.

Pepa gasped, eyes going wide. “What?”

Julieta nodded. “I had it earlier today and now it’s gone. And-“

“And you thought I took it,” Pepa guessed, nostrils flaring. “You always blame me.”

“I hoped it was you,” Julieta corrected. “You’d be the best-case scenario, seeing as you’ve drank it enough to know how to do it safely.”

Pepa shook her head. “Like you said, I can ask you for some whenever I want. Why would I take some without telling you? It makes no sense.”

Julieta had to agree. “Then who could it be?”

Pepa shrugged. “I don’t know, hermana, but I have to go. I hope you figure it out.” With a hug goodbye, Pepa was out the door again.

And Julieta was left in the kitchen, alone, once again; her only lead disproven. She glanced outside, noting the sun starting to dip in the sky. It wouldn’t be too long before dinner. Sighing, Julieta started working on the food. The whereabouts of her herbs would have to wait until later.

At dinner, Julieta surveyed the table, taking in everyone’s expressions and body language. No one seemed odd. Then again, if they’d drunk the tea, they would be perfectly calm now, wouldn’t they? Or would they? Only one way to find out.

Julieta stood up.

Surprised, the rest of the family stopped what they were doing. Isabela and Dolores had been deep in conversation. Camilo had been constructing some sort of sculpture out of his food. Her sweet Mirabel and Luisa looked up at her attentively. The other adults appeared confused, except for Pepa, who gave her an encouraging smile.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, everyone, it’s just…” she chuckled nervously, “some of my herbs have gone missing, and I was wondering if anyone could help me figure out where they went.”

Confusion rippled over the other family members. They just stared at her blankly.

“I’m not accusing anyone,” Julieta quickly clarified. “I just want to know where they went because they can be dangerous if not used properly and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Still nothing. Julieta sighed. “I promise, I won’t be mad. Just tell me.”

Agustín spoke up. “It would help if you tell us which herbs went missing, mi amor.”

Right. Julieta could have smacked herself. “The calming tea blend herbs. It can be dangerous if you drink too much too often, so please, just speak up, because I don’t want someone to make themselves sick.”

The table was filled with blank expressions.

Julieta let out a frustrated exhale. Clearly this wasn’t working. “If anyone knows something, just tell me after dinner,” she concluded, sitting down defeatedly. Picking up her fork and knife, she cut herself another bite of food. When she looked up, Luisa’s eye was twitching. That was out of the ordinary. Julieta observed her as she kept eating. Although Luisa appeared calm, her eye kept twitching sporadically.

And no one else was acting strangely. Isabela was the picture of serenity, having returned to her conversation with Dolores. Camilo had finished his tower, which had toppled over onto Mirabel’s plate. And the adults were acting normal too. Honestly, Julieta thought it would be any of them before Luisa, with their adulthood worries, but she had to go with the information she had.

Figuring she’d wait until bedtime so as not to embarrass her daughter, she finished her dinner without any more commotion and carried out the rest of her evening routine. Dishes were washed, preparations were made for tomorrow, another round of ointment was administered to her husband (ay, Agustín…), and soon enough, they were off to bed.

Julieta made her rounds, wishing everyone a good night. She tucked in Mirabel and said good night to Isabela, who was snuggled angelically into her bed. Just seeing how peaceful she looked made Julieta feel better. At least she only had to worry about one of her daughters.

Reaching Luisa’s door, she rapped on it quietly. “Luisa? It’s me.”

There was a brief silence before she responded. “Come in, mamá.”

Julieta entered the room. Luisa’s room was so wonderfully her. Sure, there were weights strewn about and a treadmill built into a corner, but above an indigo trim, the walls were painted periwinkle and had a cloud design. She figured Luisa, with all her focus on being grounded and strong, needed something light to keep her from sinking into the same pragmatism that had gotten her. One of Pepa’s romance novels stuck out under the bed, haphazardly covered so only one corner was visible. She would really have to talk to her sister about not giving her daughters inappropriate reading material. Luisa was nowhere near old enough for that. She shuddered to think what else they had been exposed to.

Julieta sat down on the bed, looking at her daughter. She certainly seemed calmer now. Hopefully she hadn’t drunk too much of the tea. Luisa was her most levelheaded child; if she could count on any of them to be safe with it, it was Luisa. She couldn’t believe Luisa took it, to be honest. Clearly, she was suffering some inner turmoil that drove her to it. “How are you, Luisa?”

Luisa shrugged. “Fine. The steeple fell off the church and they needed my help to hoist it back up, so my shoulder is kind of sore, but otherwise I’m okay, mamá.”

Julieta frowned in concern. “You got hurt?”

“It’s not so bad.” Luisa dismissed her concerns. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Julieta trailed off, unconvinced. “Because if you do need any of my remedies, you know you can ask me,” she added pointedly.

Luisa rolled her eyes. “Is this about what you were saying at dinner? It wasn’t me, mamá. I didn’t take them.”

Well that was uncharacteristic of her. Eyerolls were something she’d expect of Isabela, but sweet Luisa? Was this a preview of teenagerhood to come? She sincerely hoped not.

“Luisa…”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” Luisa shifted back on her pillow, and Julieta heard a familiar rustle.

“Hand them over, Luisa.” Her voice was soft, but she was disappointed. She couldn’t believe Luisa had tried to lie to her. At the same time, what could have driven her to this? Twin pangs shot through her, both for Luisa breaking her trust and for whatever pain she was going through.

Closing her eyes, Luisa pulled out the satchel and handed it over. “Don’t be mad, mamá,” she pleaded, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“I’m not mad, Luisa.” She was more disappointed than anything else. “But why, Lu? Why wouldn’t you come to me?” She sighed, tossing the satchel from hand to hand. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

That caught Luisa by surprise. “What?”

Julieta took her hand. “I’ve been so busy lately with all the injuries and before that it was all the preparations for Isabela’s quinceañera. I know we were all excited to see Isabela become a woman, but I probably didn’t pay as much attention to you as I should have. If I did, I’d have noticed that you weren’t doing well.”

Luisa gulped, looking guilty. “It’s okay, mamá. I understand. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“So why did you do it?” She clasped Luisa’s hand tightly between her own. It was already bigger than hers. “You can tell me.”

Luisa looked away, studying her walls. After taking a minute to collect her thoughts, she began. “It’s just…I love my gift, mamá. It’s so useful and I get to help a lot of people. But it can be a lot to carry. Literally. People want me to carry so many things. And sometimes I wonder if there’ll be something I’m not strong enough to carry. And what will I do then? I’m the strongest one here. If I can’t carry it, what will people do? What will they say? I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Julieta’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She had no idea Luisa was hurting this badly. “Oh, Lu…” She hugged her daughter, squeezing her in her arms, then looked her in the eyes. “None of that is true. You don’t have to do any of this alone. If you can’t carry something alone, you can ask for help. It’s allowed. Even if you’re the strongest person around, you can share your burdens. You don’t have to carry this all by yourself. And I’m not talking about physically. This emotional burden you’re carrying…it’s a lot. It’s a lot lighter if you share it with people.”

“I guess you’re right, mamá.” Luisa cracked a smile.

“Did that help?” Julieta wanted to make sure her words had really gotten through to Luisa.

“I think so, mamá. Thanks.” Luisa hugged her gratefully.

Julieta beamed at her softly. “Did you drink any of the tea?”

“No, mamá. Promise.”

Luisa looked so earnest; Julieta had to believe her. “I can make you some, if you want.”

Luisa appeared caught off guard by the offer. “Sure, mamá. That would help. Thanks.”

They went downstairs together, and Julieta fixed her up a mug of tea.

Luisa appeared hesitant to drink it.

“It’s all right, Luisa. Go on,” Julieta encouraged her, figuring the lingering guilt was holding her back.

Luisa took a careful sip. “This is good.” She smiled. “Thanks, mamá.”

“No problem, querida.” Julieta kissed her cheek. “Sleep well.”

With that, she went upstairs, relieved that she’d gotten to the bottom of the situation.

~ ~ ~

As soon as her mother was out of sight, Luisa wiped the rim of the mug and waited a few minutes before heading upstairs. She knocked insistently on Isabela’s door, and when it opened, she held out the mug.

“That’s it?” Isabela sounded disappointed. “What happened to the rest of it?”

“Mamá found it and took it.” At Isabela’s indignant glare, she protested, “You’re lucky I got away with this much!”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.” She grabbed the mug out of Luisa’s hand and started drinking. Seeing Luisa still waiting there expectantly, she said “Thanks, or whatever.”

Luisa smiled sweetly. “You owe me,” she reminded her before walking back to her own room.

[cheynovak]

Forged - Part four 

Summary: Calista is a young woman who lives with her uncle and nephew since her parents died, one day 'the God king's' guards under the leadership of a knight come to town. Looking for young women to present to the crown prince Cyrus (Luke Evans) , who is in search of a wife before he can claim the throne. Calista meets the handsome Knight Ezra (Jensen Ackles) who doesn't seem to be who she thinks he is. Will she fall for the dark intriguing prince, or will she fall for the guidance and warmth of Ezra?  

         

Warnings: Nothing too explicitly 

English is not my first language  

Words:  7000

Part 4 out of... I'm sorry I want to put so much into it, that it is getting to long for one shot.  

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*  

-- 

Cyrus lay down beside me, his presence comforting and reassuring. He pulled me into his arms, holding me close. I nestled against him, my head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. we just lay there in silence, our breathing slowly synchronizing. When the realisation hit me.   

What have I done... 

--  

When I woke up, I noticed Cyrus had already left. The pillow and sheets still carried his scent, a lingering reminder of the night before. As I lay there, my thoughts drifted back to the intimacy we had shared. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, both physically and emotionally.  

But as the memories replayed in my mind, a wave of guilt washed over me. I had used Cyrus because I was angry and upset about the idea of Ezra dating someone else. The realization made me feel horrible. I used him to distract myself from my own turmoil. Wondering what would have happened if he didn't hold back when he did?  

Would I have gone all the way? The idea both thrilling and scared at the same time I sat up in bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I needed to sort through my feelings and figure out what I truly wanted. I couldn't continue to do this without understanding my own emotions and what Cyrus wanted from me.  

He had said this was a business deal, but last night had felt like so much more than that. Determined to talk to Cyrus honestly, I got dressed and searched for him in the castle. As I walked through the halls, I passed by a window overlooking the garden and noticed Ezra walking with a woman.  

She was beautiful, with blonde hair and a petite, graceful figure. It had to be Lady Sara. Seeing them together sent a pang of emotion through me. I caught my own reflection in the window—greasy hair, no makeup—a stark contrast to the radiant beauty of Sara. She was lightness incarnate, just like Ezra, while I looked like a dark cloud against her sunshine.  

Just then, Cyrus walked past me. He paused, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked I forced a smile and looked up at him. "Why don't we invite her for dinner?" The words slipped out before I fully processed them. I didn't truly want to know her, but at the same time, I felt an overwhelming need to understand what Ezra saw in her, to know my competition.  

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as he looked outside, clearly surprised by my suggestion. "Are you sure that's what you want?" I nodded, trying to appear more confident than I felt. "Yes, I think it would be a good idea. Besides, it might be nice to surround me with women more often, it feels like I have barely any girl friends."  

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. As Cyrus walked away to make the arrangements, I felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The dinner would be an opportunity to see Sara up close, to observe the dynamics between her and Ezra. It would also be a chance to show myself that I could face this situation head-on, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.  

Later that evening, the dining hall was beautifully set for the dinner. I had taken extra care to freshen up, wanting to present myself as best as I could. I wore a long, fitted gown that embraced my curves. It was dark green with a touch of gold detail, a colour that complemented my complexion and brought out the warmth in my features.  

I asked Marie to do my hair, and she skilfully styled it into soft curls that hung gracefully over my shoulders. I embraced the fact that I would never be a shining, ethereal beauty like Sara. Instead, I chose to highlight my own unique features, accentuating my big brown eyes and dark hair.  

When I looked in the mirror, I felt a sense of confidence and acceptance. I was different, yes, but I was also beautiful in my own way. When I arrived at the dining hall, I saw Sara sitting next to Ezra, laughing and flirting effortlessly. She looked radiant, her blonde hair cascading in waves, and her dress light and cheerful, accentuating her perfect figure. 

Cyrus and Ezra looked up as I entered, their eyes widening slightly as they took in my appearance. I had never dressed up like this for our usual dinners, and their reactions made me feel a bit more confident. A warm smile spread across Cyrus's face, and I felt a flutter of reassurance.  

Ignoring Ezra, I walked straight to Cyrus, who was seated with an empty chair next to him. "My Prince," I whispered, giving him a small, genuine smile. He stood up slightly to pull out the chair for me, his eyes never leaving me. "You look absolutely stunning, Calista," he murmured in my ear, his voice filled with admiration.  

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as I took my seat beside him. Throughout the dinner, I could feel the tension and curiosity in the air. Sara continued to engage Ezra in conversation, her laughter ringing out like a melody. Despite my best efforts to be polite, I couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't like me, and I sensed she didn't like Ezra's reaction to me either.  

Our eyes met frequently, and I could see a mixture of emotions in Ezra's gaze that only added to the complexity of the situation. Cyrus's hand rested on my thigh, his fingers gently kneading. The touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding me in the present moment even as my mind swirled with thoughts and doubts.  

When I looked at him, I saw a hunger in his eyes that he couldn't possibly put into words without making everyone blush. I wondered what he was thinking, what he wanted to say or do to me. As the meal continued, I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the conversation around me. My focus kept drifting back to Cyrus's touch and the intensity in his gaze.  

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I wish we were alone now," Cyrus murmured, his voice low and intimate. I nodded, forcing a smile while biting my lip. Across the table, Ezra noticed and shifted in his chair, looking jealous and upset. He turned his attention back to Sara as she deftly took over the conversation once again.  

Sara smiled politely, but her words carried a subtle sting. "I'm glad the brothers are finally getting along again," she said, her tone seemingly innocent. "Especially after the last time there was a girl living amongst them," Sara continued, her eyes glinting with a hint of malice.  

I looked confused as I took a sip of the wine, trying to mask my reaction. Cyrus's grip on my thigh tightened, but I chose to ignore it for now. "What do you mean, Sara?" I asked, my voice steady but curious. Sara's smile remained polite, but there was an unmistakable edge to her tone.  

"The last girlfriend of Cyrus broke both his and Ezra's hearts." The words hung in the air, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine. Cyrus's hand tightened further, almost possessively."That's enough, Sara," Cyrus said, his voice firm, a hint of warning in his eyes.  

Ezra looked visibly uncomfortable, his jaw clenching as he avoided looking at me. "It's not a topic for tonight," he added quietly, glancing at Sara, seemingly unfazed, shrugged lightly. "I just meant that it's good to see the brothers happy again. That's all."  

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sara's words pressing down on me. She continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "At least now we don't need to worry they fall for the same girl," she said, her eyes glancing at me with contempt. "Because we are clearly nothing alike.” 

“Tell me Calista, it must be nice coming from a poor village and living like a princess." Tears welled in my eyes as her words hit me. The contrast between Sara's elegant life and my own humble beginnings felt painfully sharp. I tried to maintain my composure, but the sting of her comments was overwhelming. 

Cyrus noticed my sudden silence and the glisten of tears in my eyes. His face darkened with fury. Without raising his voice, he slammed his hand on the table, causing the silverware to clatter. "Sara, you need to show respect," he said, his voice icy but firm. "Calista will one day be your queen, and she deserves to be treated with dignity."  

Sara’s eyes widened in shock, and she fell silent, her face flushed with embarrassment. The room was charged with tension as the conversation halted. Cyrus turned to me, his expression softening as he extended his hand. "Let's take a walk," he suggested, his voice gentler now. "I think we both need some fresh air." I nodded, gratefully accepting his offer.  

As we stepped out into the cool night air, I felt a mix of relief and vulnerability. After a few moments of silence, I turned to Cyrus and asked, "Is it alright if I go to my room?" He looked at me with a mixture of concern and understanding. "Of course. Do you want me to accompany you?" I shook my head gently. "No, thank you. I think I need some time alone." Cyrus's expression turned sorrowful. "I understand. If you need anything, you know where to find me."  

I nodded, appreciating his respect for my need for solitude. "Thank you, Cyrus. I will." With one last reassuring glance, he let me go, and I made my way back to my room. The quiet of the corridor and the soft glow of the moonlight outside helped to calm my racing thoughts.  

As I entered my room and closed the door behind me, I sank onto the edge of my bed, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. I sat there for a while, letting the silence envelop me, until a gentle knock on the door broke the stillness. I opened it, expecting it to be Cyrus checking on me, but instead, I found Ezra standing there, his expression apologetic.  

I straightened myself quickly, trying to wipe away the evidence of my tears. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice curter than I intended. Ezra shifted awkwardly. "I wanted to apologize for Sara’s behaviour. Her comments were out of line." I narrowed my eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and hurt.  

"You could have chosen better, you know." Ezra looked taken aback. "I’m sorry?" he said, his tone earnest. "I never said I date her." I huffed "Does she know you’re not interested?" I asked, my voice tinged with scepticism. Ezra sighed. "It's difficult to tell her. She’s very persistent."  

I laughed without warmth. "It wasn’t difficult for you to push me aside, though." Ezra’s gaze was steady. "It doesn’t seem like you minded all that much, especially with how you’ve been with Cyrus." I flared up, my frustration bubbling over. "It was you who said I needed to give Cyrus a chance, remember? You said I was PERFECT for him! Him... not you!"  

Ezra's expression hardened. "You certainly used him to your advantages, since Cyrus's smell is still lingering in the room." I felt a surge of anger. "Well, Sara’s cheap perfume is all over you!" Ezra's eyes narrowed. "At least my bed doesn't smell like her!"  

“You didn't push her away, did you, you never said you don’t want her." I shot back, my voice trembling with emotion. "You just let her hang on, like she had some claim on you." Ezra's jaw tightened. "You think it's that simple? You think I want her clinging to me? I'm trying to handle this without causing a scene." 

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "So, it's easier to string her along than to be honest with her? Just like it's easier to push me away and pretend it doesn’t matter?" His face contorted with frustration.  

"And what about you? Acting like you're so innocent when you're sharing a bed with Cyrus, flirting with him, practically eye fucking him in front of me tonight! Are you going to tell me that means nothing?" I felt a hot flush of anger rise up. "I didn’t ask for any of this! You made it clear you didn't want me, and now you’re mad because I turned to someone who does?"  

Ezra stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You think Cyrus really cares about you? He’s using you." I shook my head, tears welling up. "No, Ezra, that's not true. He might not love me, but at least he treats me like I matter. Unlike you, who just throws me aside and then reclaim me, when it suits you."  

Ezra's expression softened slightly, but the hurt and anger were still there. "You don’t understand. I pushed you toward Cyrus because I still have a kingdom to think about. I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought it would be easier for you."  

"Easier for me?" I repeated, my voice cracking. "You thought it would be easier for me to be with someone I don’t love? To watch you with someone else, while I made it very clear how I felt that night at the festival?! I'm just a pawn in both of your games. Only Cyrus told me the rules of the game before I got close to him, unlike others."  

Ezra took another step closer, his voice softening. "Calista, I..."  

"No, Ezra," I interrupted, shaking my head. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to push me away and then act like you care. It's not fair." His eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desperation.  

"And it's fair to Cyrus? You think he doesn't see what's going on? He knows you're not fully with him." I took a step too, “At least he knows my intentions just like I know his.” Ezra's face twisted with anger, and he took a step, his voice rising. "And what are Cyrus's intentions? To fuck you like a whore, show you off to the public like a new toy, and dump you back in the castle when the people aren't watching?"  

I felt a surge of rage and pain. "You're no better!" I yelled back. "I've heard the stories about you and Sara... the rumours of how she screamed and moaned your name in the night. You're just recycling her to make me jealous." Ezra's eyes blazed with fury. "Those stories mean nothing! Sara means nothing to me!"  

"Then why is she here, Ezra?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "Why do you let her cling to you if she means nothing? Is she so good in bed?” He shook his head, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "It's not like that. You don't understand the pressure, the expectations."  

"You think I don’t?" I shot back, my heart pounding. "You think I don't feel the weight of being caught between you and Cyrus, of not knowing where I stand, making a deal to marry someone who I don't love, just to make sure my family get's a proper meal? One minute you take me to meet your brother, the next you push me away, then you get upset when I listen to you. That's not what I need from you."  

Ezra tugged at his hair in frustration. "What do you want from me?"  

"I wanted you to be honest with me!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the room. "I can't!" Ezra yelled back, his voice raw with emotion. "Then leave," I answered, my voice dropping to a whisper.  

Ezra's face fell, the anger dissipating and leaving behind only pain. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine for something he couldn't find. “Leave.” I whispered again. Slowly, he turned and walked toward the door, each step heavy with unspoken words. As he reached the door, he paused, his hand resting on the handle. 

"Calista," he began, his voice barely audible. "I... I'm sorry." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and walked out, closing it quietly behind him. I stood there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.  

A knock on my door startled me, and I opened it, yelling, "What do you want?!" expecting it to be Ezra. Tears streamed down my face. Cyrus stood there, his expression angry until he saw my tears. His face softened with concern. "What did he do?"  

"Who?" I asked, wiping at my eyes. "Ezra," he said, his voice tight with anger. I needed to lie. "It wasn't Ezra," I said quickly, trying to steady my voice. "It was just... everything. I'm overwhelmed." Cyrus stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Calista, you don't have to lie to me. I saw him leave your room. I heard you yelling."  

I shook my head, trying to compose myself. "We just argued, that's all. It wasn't anything serious." His eyes searched mine, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure? Because if he hurt you in any way..." "He didn't," I interrupted, my voice firm despite the trembling in my hands.  

"It was just a misunderstanding. I need to be alone,” I said, my voice cracking. “No,” his tone firm but gentle. I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision. “I need to be alone, Cyrus, please.” I repeated, more desperately. He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you like this.”  

Frustration and heartbreak bubbled over, and I started hitting his chest, my fists weak against his solid frame. “Why won’t you just listen to me?” I cried, my voice raw with emotion. Fighting a god was foolish, but I couldn't stop myself. Cyrus remained calm, his grip gentle but firm as he grabbed my arms, holding me steady. I kept sobbing, my cries turning into ugly, uncontrolled sobs.  

Slowly, he sank to the floor, pulling me down with him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly while I continued to cry. We stayed there, in a tangled mess of emotions and exhaustion. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, the sound soothing in its constancy.  

My sobs gradually quieted, and my breathing slowed as fatigue took over. The warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heartbeat became a lullaby, and I felt myself drifting into sleep. Cyrus held me close, his presence a silent promise of support. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I felt a strange sense of peace, knowing that despite everything, I wasn’t alone.  

That night, I dreamed horrible, vivid dreams. Their father, the god king, lay dead, and I found him, his body lifeless and cold. As I tried to run, I stumbled upon Cyrus, holding a sword dripping with the purple divine and blood, a haunting glow in the night. Ezra knelt before him, and with a wicked smile, Cyrus turned to me and said, "This is for lying to me," before he decapitated Ezra in one swift, merciless motion.  

I sprang up from the dream, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding wildly. The room was dimly lit by the early morning light, and I realized I was alone. Cyrus must have placed me in bed last night, but now he was gone. The terror of the dream clung to me, and I struggled to shake off the lingering fear.  

I sat up, trying to steady my breathing, and looked around the room. Everything seemed normal, but the weight of the nightmare pressed heavily on my chest. Marie walked into the room, her expression somber and eyes filled with a haunted look. I was in the middle of getting ready, still trying to shake off the lingering dread from my nightmare. I noticed her demeanour immediately. "Marie," I said, turning to her. "What’s wrong?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, "The king... he's dead."  

The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment, I could only stare at her in shock. My nightmare from the previous night came rushing back with vivid clarity, the images of the god king lying dead, and Cyrus with the bloodied sword. "How?" I managed to ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. "They found him in his chambers this morning," Marie replied, tears brimming in her eyes. "There's talk of murder."  

My heart pounded in my chest. "Where are Cyrus and Ezra?" "They're in the throne room, with the council," Marie said. "You should go to them." I nodded, still trying to process the news. The king was dead, and if my dream held any truth... No, I couldn't think like that. I had to find Cyrus and Ezra, to see what was happening.  

As I hurried through the corridors, my mind raced. The palace was in chaos, servants and guards moving frantically, the atmosphere heavy with tension. When I reached the throne room, I found the doors guarded by two stern-looking soldiers. "I need to see Cyrus and Ezra," I said, my voice urgent. One of the guards nodded and opened the door just enough for me to slip through. Inside, the room was filled with council members, all talking in hushed, frantic tones.  

At the centre, I saw Cyrus and Ezra standing side by side, their expressions grim. Cyrus looked up as I entered, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of relief and concern. "Calista," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil around us. Ezra turned to look at me, his face a mask of controlled emotion. "We have a lot to discuss, go back to your room" he said quietly. I ignored him, moving closer to them.  

"I heard about the king. What happened?" Cyrus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're not entirely sure yet. There are signs of a struggle, and the council believes it was an assassination." Ezra’s gaze was intense. "We need to find out who did this and why. The kingdom is on the brink of chaos."  

The council chamber was filled with tension, each word and accusation adding to the mounting pressure. One of the council members, an older man with a sharp gaze, pointed a finger at Cyrus. "You couldn't get your hands on the throne fast enough, could you?" he sneered. "The marks on the king's body, they show ice burns. Who else here wields such power?"  

A murmur of agreement spread through the room. Cyrus's face darkened, his composure slipping. "How dare you," he growled, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. The council members continued to press, their voices growing louder, more accusatory. Cyrus's temper reached its breaking point, and with a sudden, violent gesture, a blast of purple force erupted from him.  

The shockwave shattered windows, splintered furniture, and sent people sprawling to the ground. The room fell into stunned silence as Cyrus stormed out, the purple fire in his eyes blazing. Ezra and I exchanged a quick glance before hurrying after him. We found him in his chambers, pacing furiously, his anger palpable.  

"I can't believe they're trying to push me aside," he muttered, his voice raw with emotion. "After everything..." The purple fire swirled in his eyes, casting an eerie glow around the room. "Get out," he snapped, his anger directed at us now. "Leave before I hurt you."  

I refused to back down, stepping closer to him. "No, Cyrus," I said firmly, grabbing his face with both hands. "You won't hurt me." For a moment, his anger faltered, replaced by confusion and something softer. But the fire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface.  

Ezra, sensing the volatility in the room, turned to leave. "I'll talk to the council," he said, his voice strained. "Try to calm them down." As Ezra left, the room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thick and oppressive.  

Cyrus's eyes met mine, the purple flames flickering. "Calista," he said, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. "You shouldn't be here." "I'm not going anywhere," I replied, my voice steady despite my racing heart. He looked away, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. "They think I killed him," he whispered, the admission hanging heavy in the air.  

"We'll prove them wrong," I said, my determination unwavering. "But you need to stay calm. Losing your temper won't help." He took a deep breath, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "You can," I insisted. 

Before I could say anything more, Cyrus pulled me into a kiss that was both freezing cold and burning hot, a whirlwind of conflicting sensations. His hands roamed over my body, kneading and groping with an urgency that left me breathless. It took a moment for me to fully register what was happening.  

He pushed me against the wall, his lips trailing down to my neck, where he kissed and bit with a force that made it hard to think. "Cyrus," I managed to gasp, "is this really the best time?" His response was a low growl, his breath hot against my skin. "I need this," he murmured, his voice rough and desperate. "I need you... I need to let off some steam."  

I struggled to keep my thoughts clear, the intensity of his touch making it difficult. "But... the council..." "Forget them," he whispered fiercely, his hands moving with a determination that left no room for argument. It took me everything to push him off me. “I say stop!”  

He took a step back angry, "So what Ezra gave you enough dick last night, you don't need me anymore?” I hit his face, it was a stupid move against a god. “Don't you dare talk to me like that!” I yelled back. Cyrus pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy, his eyes searching mine. "I can't lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not now. Not even to him."

"You won't," I replied, my own voice trembling with emotion. 

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I shouldn’t have said that." I nodded, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. "We’re all under a lot of pressure," I said softly, my voice barely steady. "But we can’t let it tear us apart." He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently touch my cheek. "You’re right. I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this. My father’s death, the accusations, marriage… It’s too much"

"I’m here," I promised. "Marriage can wait... Let's just prove you didn't do it." 

-- 

The next days brought a whirlwind of activity to the castle as preparations were made to welcome Aunt Lillian and her three sons. Lillian, a formidable woman with divine powers like her nephews, was the only remaining member of their family who shared their abilities. Her sons, Tiberius, Orion, and Castor, were strikingly handsome and appeared slightly younger than Cyrus, though they were in fact several hundred years younger.  

The castle buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the somber reason for their visit. Despite the mourning, there was an air of festivity as the council continued to refuse Cyrus’s ascension to the throne. This had forced both Cyrus and Ezra to relentlessly search for the real killer, but so far, their efforts had been in vain.  

That evening at dinner, the atmosphere was tense. The long table was filled with a mixture of mourners and council members, their expressions ranging from sorrowful to suspicious. Aunt Lillian, with her regal bearing and piercing eyes, sat at the head of the table beside Ezra and Cyrus.  

Her sons flanked her, each one radiating an air of quiet power. As I took my seat beside Cyrus, I felt Lillian’s gaze on me, cold and appraising. She leaned slightly toward Cyrus, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. "Is this the girl you’ve chosen to entertain yourself with, Cyrus?" she asked, her tone dripping with disdain. "She looks... ordinary." I felt a flush of anger and embarrassment, but Cyrus’s hand on mine under the table calmed me slightly.  

He met his aunt’s gaze with a steely resolve. "Calista is not to be spoken of in such a manner, Aunt Lillian," he said firmly. "She is my fiancée and has to be treated with utmost respect." Lillian raised an eyebrow, a small, mocking smile playing on her lips. "Fiancée, you say? Interesting choice, considering the circumstances." Ezra, sitting across from us, interjected, his voice calm but with an edge.  

"Aunt Lillian, Calista has been a great support to both of us during these trying times. I would appreciate it if you treated her with the respect she deserves." Lillian’s eyes flicked to Ezra, her expression unreadable. "Very well," she said, her tone dismissive. "But I do hope you both know what you’re doing.  

The council is already divided, and bringing an outsider into the fold will only complicate matters, they might even think you waited for the world to see her before you killed my brother." I felt the weight of her words and the eyes of everyone at the table. Dinner continued in a strained silence, broken only by occasional murmurs and the clinking of cutlery.  

Tiberius, Orion, and Castor seemed content to let their mother speak for them, their expressions neutral but attentive. After dinner, as we retired to library. Lillian approached me as we stood by the fireplace, her sons lingering nearby. "Do you know what you’re getting into, girl?" she asked, her voice low and threatening. "This is not a place for the faint-hearted."  

I met her gaze, trying to summon all the courage I could. "I know it won’t be easy, but I’m here to support Cyrus and Ezra. I won’t back down." She studied me for a moment, then nodded curtly. "We shall see," she said, turning away. That night, before the darkness fully settled over the castle, I found Cyrus still in the throne room. The grand space was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the floor. His expression was one of deep concern, his usually confident demeanour replaced by a brooding intensity. I hesitated for a moment before approaching him.  

“Cyrus,” I began softly, my voice echoing slightly in the vast room. He looked up, his eyes cold and hard. “What do you want to do next?” I asked, trying to break through his icy exterior. He sighed, his gaze drifting to the empty throne. “We need to find the killer, prove my innocence, and secure my place on the throne,” he replied, his tone devoid of emotion.  

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Has our deal changed?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He frowned, clearly confused. “What do you mean?” I looked away, gathering my thoughts before meeting his gaze again. “Since we’ve been somewhat intimate, I’m confused about your goals. Are we still proceeding with the fake marriage?”  

His confusion melted into a slow smile, a hint of warmth returning to his eyes. “Ah, I see. Even if we do this arrangement, people will expect an heir to the throne one day.” My heart skipped a beat at his words. “And what does that mean for us?” Cyrus stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “It means we need to maintain the facade, but we also need to be realistic about what’s expected of us.”  

I nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. “So, our deal remains the same, but with added complexities.” “Calista, I need you by my side, I need you to keep your end of the deal. That's it. Now leave me." His words hurt me, just tried to convince Ezra his brother was kind to you but now... he looked like the same men I met at the beginning. I bowed and walked out the door, my heart heavy with the weight of our conversation.  

As I stepped into the hallway, I spotted Ezra talking to Sara. The sight of them together sent a fresh wave of pain through me, and I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my tears from falling. But the emotion was too strong. As I passed by, the tears began to spill, and I hastily wiped them away, not wanting anyone to see my weakness. Ezra must have noticed because he excused himself from Sara and walked briskly towards me. 

"Calista," he called softly, concern etched on his face. "What’s wrong?" I tried to brush past him, but he gently caught my arm, pulling me to the side where we could talk in private. "Calista, please talk to me," he insisted, his voice low and urgent. "It's nothing," I said, my voice shaky as I tried to pull myself together.  

"Just everything happening... it’s overwhelming." I pulled my arm free, my anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "Then why are you with her, Ezra? Why do you keep hurting me like this?" He looked taken aback, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. "It’s not what you think. I’m trying to manage things, keep her at bay. But you... you’re all I think about." I shook my head, the tears falling freely now.  

"You say that, but your actions say otherwise." Ezra stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Calista, I’ve been trying to protect you. Everything I’ve done... it’s for you." "Then show me," I demanded, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Show me that you care. Because right now, I don’t know what to believe." 

Lillian interrupted us, her eyes sharp and knowing as she approached. There was a calculating look in her gaze that told me she had picked up on the tension between Ezra and me. "Ezra," she said, her tone measured, "has Calista received her education yet?" I looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?" Ezra's expression turned serious.  

"No, Aunt Lillian. She hasn't." Lillian nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "There are certain things, traditions, that need to be followed for you to become the queen and earn immortality. It's part of the process, Calista, something every future queen must go through." I felt a knot of apprehension form in my stomach. "What kind of education?" Lillian's smile widened, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It's nothing to worry about, dear. Just a series of lessons and rituals to prepare you for your role. I can help you with them while Ezra and Cyrus continue their search for the killer. By the time they catch him, you'll be ready for marriage."  

Ezra glanced at me, concern evident in his eyes. "Calista, you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with." But I knew I had to take this step if I wanted to secure my place and help Cyrus and Ezra focus on finding the truth. "I'll do it," I said, trying to sound confident. Lillian’s smile became more genuine. "Good. We’ll start tomorrow." Ezra looked troubled, but he nodded. "If you’re sure, Calista." I squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. "I’m sure. You need to find the killer and bring peace back to the kingdom. If this is what I have to do to help, then I will."  

Every day, Lillian guided me through a rigorous schedule of lessons. We delved deep into politics, learning the intricate workings of the kingdom and the delicate balance of power between realms. The teachings about the divine were the most intense and crucial, as they were the foundation of my future role. Lillian explained the significance of the divine powers, how they flowed through the royal bloodline, and the responsibilities that came with wielding such power.  

She taught me about the ancient rituals and ceremonies that maintained the balance between the mortal and divine worlds. Her knowledge was vast, and her teaching methods were both demanding and precise. As part of my preparation, Lillian brewed special teas for me to drink each day. These concoctions were meant to cleanse my body and ready it to receive the divine power that I would share with Cyrus upon our union. The teas had a bitter taste, but I drank them without complaint, understanding their importance. 

"You must be purified," Lillian would say as she handed me the cup. "The divine power is not something to be taken lightly. It requires a vessel that is pure and strong." The cleansing process was rigorous. I often felt light-headed and drained, but Lillian assured me that this was normal and a necessary part of the preparation. Despite the physical toll, I could feel myself growing stronger. asked how exactly I would receive it the power Lillian’s smile was knowing. "The consummation of your marriage is not just a formality; it is a sacred act that binds you to Cyrus and allows the divine power to be shared between you." I nodded, trying to absorb the gravity of what she was saying. The blush on my cheeks deepened. As I continued my lessons with Lillian, the reality of my future role as queen became more tangible. The divine power was a gift, but it was also a responsibility that I had to embrace fully. And part of that responsibility was accepting my bond with Cyrus, not just in the public eye but in the most private and sacred of ways.  

Each day, as I drank the cleansing teas and absorbed the knowledge Lillian imparted, I felt myself becoming more and more ill and weak. My head often pounded, and my stomach churned with a constant sense of unease. Despite this, I pushed through, determined to prepare myself for the role I was destined to play. One morning, I walked into the dining room, the familiar feeling of nausea stronger than ever. I heard Ezra talking to his nephews and Cyrus about needing to fin 

d the murderer. Their voices blurred together as my vision started to dim, and a sharp pain shot through my head. I tried to excuse myself, to make it to the door before I collapsed, but my legs gave way beneath me. The world spun, and the last thing I saw was the panicked faces of Ezra and Cyrus rushing toward me before everything went black.  

When I came to, I was lying in a bed, the room dimly lit by candles. Cyrus and Ezra were by my side, their expressions a mix of concern and fear. "Calista," Ezra's voice was soft but urgent. "What happened? You've been getting worse every day." I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down. "I don't know," I whispered. "The teas, the lessons... I thought they were supposed to help me."  

Ezra took the old teapot on my nightstand and smelled it, passing it to Cyrus. Cyrus exchanged a look with Ezra, his eyes narrowing. "Lillian," he muttered under his breath. Both got up without a word. Cyrus turned to Ezra. "You need to stay with her. If this means what we think, she is in danger." Ezra nodded. I was confused, asking, "What's wrong?" Ezra's expression was grim.  

"Lillian has been poisoning you. There is no tea in the preparation." My mind raced, struggling to process what he had just said. "Poisoning me? But why?" "To weaken you, to control you, perhaps even to kill you. without you there is no wedding, no wedding Cyrus can't be king no king... she could demand the throne by vote through the council." 

Cyrus ran off, and Ezra, seeing my fear, climbed into bed behind me. He held me close, my head resting on his chest. Hours passed, and eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep against him. I woke up when Cyrus entered the room, his voice breaking the silence. "She admitted it," he said, his tone heavy with weariness. "She even admitted to killing our father."  

He looked terrible, like he had been through a brutal fight. His clothes were torn, and there were visible scratches and bruises on his skin. I sat up, still feeling weak but filled with concern. "What happened?" I asked. Ezra, his voice tense, asked, "Her sons?"Cyrus nodded, his expression grim. "I had to kill them too. They fought back when I confronted Lillian. They were all in on it."  

A mix of relief and sorrow washed over me. While Lillian's threat had been neutralized, the cost had been high. I could see the toll it had taken on Cyrus, and it broke my heart. Ezra tightened his hold on me, his presence reassuring. "You did what you had to do," he said quietly. "You need to keep Calista safe now." Cyrus nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "We will."  

The three of us stayed together that night.

Cyrus had changed clothes and washed up before he switched places with Ezra, who now sat on the chair a crossed the room. I caught his glance when I lay in Cyrus his arms, a whirl of emotions showing, pain and sadness but also relieved and caring, maybe a hint of jealousy?

I was too tired too ill to decipher. Their protective presence a comfort amidst the turmoil made me feel at ease, knowing I'd be save. As I drifted back into sleep, I knew what soon would follow.  

Marriage.

------------------------------------

Tag list:-> I keep a different list for this story because it is different from the other stories I write. If you want to be added please let me know!

@jackles010378 @headinthemoon87

[grieverled-moved]

➤ MISC. HEADCANONS [ ; ] TRAVERSE TOWN & LEON’S CONNECTION TO KING MICKEY ©

Another thing I wanted to elaborate on, was Leon’s time in Traverse Town along with all the events leading up to it. I do have a mish-mashed version for how he arrived in Radiant Garden — how originally, there was a fall of some sort within his world within VIII where he was then torn away & separated from those he knew, waking up in the strange new world on his own.

With no idea of where to start to try finding his way back to Balamb, Squall originally tried his best to get a general lay-out of his new surroundings, of how things worked & functioned in this place. *He felt no junctioning connection any of his Guardian Forces, a strange feeling considering he’d always made sure to keep them on hand in case of an emergency. *There was no connection to Rinoa that could be felt either, the initial emotions felt being a strong, near overwhelming isolating feeling of ‘lost’ — not unlike the one felt during his time trapped in Time Compression.

Days passed, eventually the time he’d spent just simply trying to stay a temporary visitor bled into something new. No new directions opened their way for him, nothing came up to give him anything worth looking into, & so, *he’d settled for making himself comfortable. At least until he knew more, it couldn’t hurt to take a break in his search — for a while things were quiet again. Peaceful even despite his restlessness, he’d managed to carve a small, comfortable space for himself. But it didn’t last long & soon enough, that same looming Darkness would begin to overtake Radiant Gardens, slowly this time, providing the man with just enough time to arm himself, gather what he could before he’d started trying to aid in rushed evacuation efforts with Highwind & the others. He’d done his best to hold off the initial hordes of Heartless, using his old experience of being a trained mercenary to his advantage, but he’s only human.

In his adrenaline fuelled state of panic, the former commander had gotten separated in his efforts to push back against the more dangerous of Heartless, unsurprisingly leading to an ambush, nearly being overwhelmed enough to lose his own heart before he’d been subsequently rescued amidst the chaos. During the fray, he’d gotten severely injured, though Cid was able to drag him onto the ship along with the others & from there, they’d soon find themselves within Traverse Town, where they’d then take refuge in the time that’d followed.

For the first while, around a little over a month, he was was bedridden & stuck recovering. During that time & admittedly with little other options, Squall’d started to connect more with Yuffie & Aerith. At first, he fought them heavily, stubborn in his want to leave, to be active enough since that same restlessness was back with a vengeance at yet another perceived failure in preventing a world from falling — another home. At being useless yet again. ( I’ll ramble properly about this more in another post, but this is around where he decides to change his name to *“Leon”, a simpler acknowledgement / last remaining tether to his lost past, while renouncing who he’d once been after all the loss & failure on his end. ) Despite his very vocal protests, the others kept him from leaving until he was fully healed.

When he did eventually heal enough to wander, he’d started to make sure things within Traverse Town were properly secure with what he’d learned during his last few attempts in fending off the Heartless, also taking time to note the sudden increase in newcomers who’d arrived just as they had. *More time passed as he learned to juggle between making sure their newfound haven would remain as safe as they could make it, that people were prepared, setting up regular guards to patrol & fight the odd Heartless that’d invade.

*To also making sure housing & supplies were carefully managed. He’d once again fallen back into old habits, the memories of the times he’d spent leading Balamb during the battle had against Ultimecia plagued him, but he found comfort in the fact he’d been able to help as he had using all his prior experience.

Eventually, with Cid’s approval, using the old & repaired Gummiship they’d arrived in, *Leon then leaves to perform research of his own into what happened. To how the worlds fell, what signals to look out for in advance, to how long they took so he knew how much time he had to evacuate. He also began to search tirelessly for ways to counter the Heartless, scouring for any hopeful ways to reverse the falling of a world. He’d started to travel around, between continuing his upkeep of Traverse Town, journeying to ones that were falling to follow Cid’s footsteps in helping to evacuate as many people to safety as he could.

*Its during one of those self assigned missions that he manages to bump into King Mickey, someone else looking into the sudden disappearance of the stars & ways to reverse whatever phenomena was happening. Over the span of their friendship, the pair had relayed what info they’d come across to one another, working together alongside the others up until Sora is introduced into the picture & things are officially kicked into high gear.

In summary, that’s my personal take on how Leon got to where he is in Kingdom Hearts, along with a bit of frantic connecting the dots on my messy lil corkboard to explain why he knows as much as he does & why he’s the guide character who mentors Sora in KH1. It just explains why he’s so passionate about trying to keep the Heartless problem under control, along with his name change, & his dedication to helping others.

[drsteggy]

This was somehow easier when he was a boy. Slipping through the guards around the Castle Garden used to be fun. Now, under Zelda's rule, they were much more attentive. Their patterns were harder to find holes in. No doubt this was the point. He wondered if the guards would let him through if he just asked.

It wouldn't be the same. Malon had asked him to steal from the garden, not buy or barter for. She also said to 'grow in their own garden', which meant the plant might need to be as whole as possible. Link wasn't sure he could steal a whole bush or vine- so roses were out. Most of the garden was roses. Granted, he had seen Malon work miracles of nurturing plants from the tiniest snippets, but her hands were blessed anyway. She raised calves and foals and saplings and chicks and children with the same two hands.

Link almost got caught, too busy dreaming about his wife to hear the steps of a guard too close. Sure, no one would see him, the stone mask made sure of that, but if he bumped into them, they'd raise alarm. If they saw his shadow they'd raise alarm. If they saw a flower magically float up out of the earth, roots and all, they'd raise alarm. If he sneezed trying to find the flower that smelled the best, they would bless him as common courtesy, then raise alarm.

The inner courtyard had all the most radiant and rare flowers that flourished in good Hyrulean soil. He hadn't noticed them much when he came the first time- he was too busy meeting Zelda. This time, the princess ascended to Queen sat on the other side of the glass.

"You've gotten better."

Link jumped. It took a moment to remember that he was not in the old time, but a stream of the river in which his memories were the only ghosts. "Morning, Impa."

"It's afternoon, now." She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Even without seeing it she did not miss. Her tone deepened, hardened. "Are you here in a matter of urgency?"

Link shook his head. "No, peace holds."

She sighed relief. "Then I will be dragging you out by your collar, old friend."

"Wait," Link shrugged out of her grip. There was no helping how his boots crushed the grass. There was no hiding from Impa. "Just need a flower for Malon."

"Oh forest boy," Impa wagged her finger at seemingly empty air. "City folk, even rural ones, buy flowers from the market."

He was glad she could not see the heat in his face. Malon had requested his slight of hand in a most intimate moment, and there was no denying her intention. There was also no way he would relay such a thing to an old friend. An excuse helpfully bubbled up to the surface. "She deserves better. You know that."

She laughed at him. Hushed but genuine. "Oh fine, but I will be reporting the theft the moment you choose one, so be quick, little hero."

The lingering notes of an arcane instrument floated about the shallow hole in the ground among the Mother of Thyme. The guards threw up their hands. They would be subject to another long session of protecting the castle of false ghosts.

SAPH DID YOU WRITE ME A FIC FOR VALENTINES DAY

Thank you, I love it very much. I hope Malon can grow it in her garden!

[bstroobery]

“You’re kidding,” I mumbled as I looked up at the two officers in front of me. “Why would you guys choose me? I mean, I’m a sad pathetic guy that no one would-”

“Oh.”

I guess it all made sense. No one was exactly trustworthy of this new peace treaty. If the alien empire did in fact end up killing the prince of the humans to destroy moral or something, then it would be best to send in a nobody that lives completely alone in his apartment. I was that nobody.

But I actually didn’t complain much. It’s better than remaining in that run down apartment. You know, I could die and no one would notice until a neighbor began complaining about the smell from my place. So, possibly being killed by an alien princess would exactly be too bad.

The problem was convincing them. I wasn’t exactly the “royal” type. The governments all came together and decided to choose some random schmuck to get this stupid war possibly over with.

Things moved by quickly as they got me ready. Pretty soon, everything I had was packed and I was on a ship to a neutral planet that had been selected for the ceremony. It was going to follow the empire’s customs. So… I’d have to be schooled on that.

It was… weird, honestly. To think a week ago I was just living my boring average life. Now I’m named the Prince of Humans and betrothed to an alien I’d never even seen before. No one had actually seen what the aliens in the empire looked like. Not out of armor anyway.

Before I knew it, we were there. I made my way through the square with the officers by my side. Everyone looked at me. Aliens from different species all watching us curiously. Earth was an outlier planet, apparently. Every other known planet had been in contact with one another before.

The Empire soldiers stepped forward, with them a dark slimy creature. To be honest, if this was my bride-to-be, it could be worse.

But then he cleared his throat, clearly seeing the nervousness on my face as I watched him. His skin was made of that black goo, and it moved around unnaturally as he simply stood there. Actually… I guess it technically would be natural for them.

“So,” he said, speaking through a universal translator, “you’re the prince?”

I had been handed one too. I nodded. “Um… yes…” Damn that was the least confident answer I could have given. One of the officers gave me a dirty look. “Yeah. Uh… my name is Simon.”

The creature nodded. “I’m the leader of this empire. You’ll be marrying my daughter,” he said as one blue eye looked me over. “Sadly.”

I nodded. “Um… when do I meet her?”

The Emperor smiled at me. “I’ll actually be relieving you if you guards. Don’t worry. We honor our peace treaties. No harm will befall you.”

I gulp down my fear and press myself forward. Something in his eye told me he could feel that fear deep within my soul. The officers didn’t actually bother following as soldiers began talking with them.

The Emperor led me to a hotel of sorts, where we were greeted by many… friendly people. They were extremely nice. They’d asked how my journey was, if I’d had a long day, needed to rest, or if I needed any refreshments. I was surprised by the hospitality, honestly.

The Emperor cleared his throat, and I looked over to see a caring smile on his face. “Please,” he said, “follow me.” It was… odd.

I continue to follow him until we reach a garden. There, standing on the balcony overlooking it all, stood the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She had light brown hair with blue tips, radiant smooth skin, and fluffy blue bunny ears peaking out from the hairdo. It was done in a clipped up sort of style, making it appear shorter than it really was.

“Blue,” The Emperor said, “the Prince of Humans is finally here.”

She turned and smiled at me with eyes that were nearly black, rosy cheeks, and a warm and welcoming expression. She wore a blue gown that hugged the top of her figure before flowing down to the ground, forming a train behind her. She walked over and smiled at me.

“Hello,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that my English is a bit… I’ve only been learning for a few years now.”

She didn’t have a translator on…

“No,” I said with a shy smile on my face as I felt it heat up, “it’s actually pretty good.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

Blue looked down at my hand before taking it and shaking it slowly. “You, handshake, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. Uh… what do you usually do when you meet people?”

Blue smiled, pulled their hand away, and then held out their other hand. “We shake hands too,” they laughed.

I laughed too, shaking their hand with my other.

The Emperor rolled his eye at us.

Gosh. It’s a shame I’m betrothed to the Emperor’s daughter. Blue is actually… very nice. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her more.

“So you’re the one I’m betrothed to,” she laughed.

What?

The Emperor nodded, giving a sly smile at my confusion must have been… extremely evident on my face. “Yes, I’m aware we don’t have much of a family resemblance. But Blue is my daughter.”

“Adopted,” she laughed again. It was a contagious laugh. “So, Simon, we should probably get to know each other better.”

I nodded. How the hell did I luck out this much?

The two of us spent a lot of time together, no guards around either of us. We spent most of our time in the gardens, which were very lovely. Blue showed me multiple different plants, and animals.

At the end of the evening, we both simply sat on a bench, watching the stars and talking.

“You’re a lot cuter than I expected you’d be,” she said, smiling.

“You too, actually,” I said back.

Blue nodded and looked up at the stars. “But, there is one thing I have to say.” She slid her hand over mine gently, the other reaching up towards my neck, and then the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ground with a knife to my throat. “You’re not actually the Prince of Humans.”

I stared up at them in shock. It probably wasn’t hard to figure out, but it wasn’t exactly easy either. I thought I put up a good act.

“H-how are you so sure?” I ask sheepishly. The blade gets closer to my throat. Not enough to cut, but there is definitely a lot of pressure making it hard to breathe without cutting me.

“Earth has way too many governments to have just one prince,” she said. “You’re a very… divisive species. Our empire is diverse too, but at least we’re all United under one flag. Unlike your planet.”

She leaned down closer to me. When she had pinned me down, some of her hair had come undone and was falling close to my face.

“Listen,” I said, “I’m just a nobody they sent here because no one would miss me. No one trusted the treaty.”

Blue sighed, removing the knife from my throat and helping me back up. “Oh, we’re aware. We’re not stupid,” she huffed. “My father had already completed a full background check of you the moment you had left Earth to get here.”

I put a hand to my neck as I processed the fact that I could breathe normally again, as well as all she had just told me.

“That being said,” she laughed, “you’re still pretty cute. Marry me as planned and maybe we can take down your planet together? They were the ones who sent you to die, after all.”

God the whiplash from all the turns this conversation took was giving me a migraine. Processing it all took some time. But even before my thoughts were able to catch up with me, the words still fell out of my mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Blue smiled at me and grabbed my arm. “Great! Maybe we can start some preparations for the siege.”

As I followed them, the reality of everything finally set in. How they had already known I was a fake, how they were planning to kill me, how Blue suggested we marry anyway and destroy Earth, and my answer…

My answer was still the same. I would absolutely marry Blue, and I wouldn’t quite mind the Empire taking over Earth.

Honestly, as long as I was outside my dingy apartment and someone would actually notice if I died, I don’t care what the hell happens. And marrying Blue isn’t a half-bad idea either.

Due to rising tensions, humanity and the alien empire have decided to make peace with a political marriage between a prince and princess of the two species. The empire isn’t aware that mankind doesn’t have a singular prince, but the world will pretend, so you’re picked to marry god-knows-what.

[kh-oc-askblog]

Introduction:

Yoru

(Yo-[d]ru), Japanese; Night. Age: around 14-16 during the main Kingdom Hearts games. Pronouns: he/him. Weapon: Bō, later a staff with a hidden blade. Stance: Tail guard (both staffs and swords). Specialties: water, light, reflect/ barrier, healing. Limit Break: Premonition Strike. Factions: N/A, Civilian.

Aesthetic Board

In a small world filled with wild forests, Yoru had always been content living side by side his best friend Lunaria. The two were always together, playing and discovering the hidden corners of the woods outside their home town. The two children had a secret; they were not originally from this place and knew of worlds beyond their own. Both knew that the other had come from beyond the stars, but neither one really knew what the other had seen. Even so, they dreamt of one day returning to the places they had once been to and could no longer remember. Or, at least, that was the case for Yoru. The only hint he had of his home were the marks lining his body in a language he did not understand. Even if he couldn't remember his old home, the forest was enough for Yoru. He loved the family he had found and the friend he had made. As long as he could return, he knew he had nothing to fear...until the day of the storm. Monsters tore his home apart and he found himself blacking out, only to awaken in a different town altogether; Traverse Town.

There, he met a girl named Zorya and a boy named Taiyo. The two helped him and travelled by his side as he searched for Lunaria. Yet, he still had so many questions, why did all of this give him such a strange feeling of Deja Vu? Why did the two before him feel so familiar, as if they had met once before? What had happened to his world? Was it the same as what had transpired long ago and resulted in the loss of his old home? Why couldn't he remember? And...could this all be related to the man in the dark cloak who had visited him back in his old home? His journey would see him learn even more about himself and answer many of these questions. And yet there were still so many questions born of these experiences; a world with a pink sky...was this his former home? Why did the visions he have seem to come true? Who was he, really? Each adventure led to a new question.

The trio explored and fought side by side until they had eventually found Lunaria, Noir and Glaucia travelling together, uniting to help answer the mysteries each one held and wished to answer. Nuaia joined the six friends not long after, the seven then finding comfort in one another as they joined forces. Even after the worlds' salvation and the answering of so many of his questions, Yoru continued to stay by his friends in Radiant Garden as he sought the truth behind his origins.

[yzafre]

we're flying above the valley below | Ch 19

AO3

First | Previous

Sora landed in Radiant Garden at a run.  The courtyard was already busy, with Donald, Goofy, and the Radiant Garden crew moving between the Gummi Ship and the Castle while Mickey, Ventus, Axel, and Xion conferred to the side.

“Guys!” He shouted, stumbling to a stop in front of them, hands on his knees, “Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine,” Mickey said, though Ventus looked away sullenly

“We’re not the ones you should be worried about,” Axel added.

Riku approached at a more sedate pace, face solemn. “What happened?”

“We’re not quite sure with the Princesses,” Mickey started, “But…”

“We can put some of the pieces together,” Axel continued, “Vexen’s missing again – but this time, so is Xaldin and Demyx.”

Xion nodded beside him, “And last night, Vexen was acting… strange.  He was trying to figure out where everyone was – last we saw, he was looking for Demyx, I think.”

“What about Xigbar?” Mickey asked, “Couldn’t he have grabbed the princesses before he talked to Ven and Aqua?”

Ven shook his head, “No.  I got the idea he came straight to us.”

Axel picked the thread back up, “And as much as I don’t like the guy, I think Vexen was on the up-and-up, this time.  So that leaves Xaldin and Demyx.”

“Dilan was the one guarding the princesses,” Kairi noted, joining the conversation, “So then, you think Demyx – “

“No,” Axel and Xion said, simultaneously, before glancing at each other and grimacing.

“Well, Vexen had a point about him being off people’s radar,” Axel admitted.

“But it’s Demyx,” Xion said, looking truly baffled.

“Xaldin, huh?” Riku mused, “Come to think of it, there were a couple times where I had some strange encounters with him.  I thought maybe he was just stand-offish, but…”

Mickey sighed, “Well, whoever did it, we at least know that’s one more person on the Organization’s side.  We’ll figure the rest out when we get there.”

“But why was Vexen looking for people in the first place?” Kairi asked, “Did he know something was going to happen?”

“That’s – a good question.”  Axel shrugged, and for a moment they all looked at each other in mutual confusion.

“Okay, but, what about Aqua?” Sora cut in.

“Aqua is,” Mickey started, before trailing off, looking up at Ven.

“She merged with Vanitas,” he said curtly.

“Vanitas?” Sora wondered, “But, didn’t we defeat him back on Monstropolis?”

“Apparently not,” Ventus said, scowling, “I guess he was just... hiding in my heart, the whole time.  Waiting.  Just like always.”

“But if he was with you, why did Aqua merge with him?” Kairi asked.

“She thought I couldn’t deal with him.  She was trying to protect me,” he answered, before repeating, bitterly, “Just like always.”

"Right,” Riku said, “So, what’s the plan?  We can’t let them keep the princesses.”

“But then, they don’t have all of them, do they?” Axel pointed out, turning to Kairi.

“About that,” Mickey said, “Kairi, I was thinking maybe it would be best if you stayed behind?”

“What?” Kairi said, “No!”

“But - as long as they don’t have you, they can’t use the Princesses to summon Kingdom Hearts - and they won’t have seven lights to fight against, either.”

“I get where you’re coming from, Mickey, but I disagree,” Riku said, “The Organization has proved they can get into the castle – leaving her behind means they can just corner her on her own.  Besides, I don’t know about you, but I think I want her on my side for this fight.”

“But that’s a good idea – about one of us not fighting them,” Xion said, “If one of us could avoid getting dragged in...”

“Then it’s not fulfilling the requirements, right?” Axel finished the thought, “Loopholes.”

“I think it should be Sora,” Riku said.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Riku nodded, “Your role will be to avoid fighting, and find the Princesses so we can get them out of there.”

“What?” he protested, “But I can help fight!”

“Sure, but so can all of us.  You know the princesses, though – or at least half of them – they'll listen to you.  The only one they know more is Kairi, and you have more experience navigating a battlefield than she does – and more options for handling the situation.  You’re the best fit.  Just leave the fighting to us.”

Sor wrinkled his nose, staring at the ground.  He didn’t like it, but Riku had a point.

“Yeah.  Yeah, alright.”

Ventus couldn’t sit still the whole way to the Keyable Graveyard; he kept fidgeting: picking at his pants, tapping his foot.  Fear bit at the back of his throat, used his stomach as a chew toy, left him feeling like he was going to throw up at any given moment.  And beneath the buzzing, there was something else - that niggling, simmering, burning thought he tried to ignore:

They wouldn’t be in this situation if she’d just listened to him.

“We’re here,” Donald announced solemnly.

The ship descended quickly, leaving a swooping sensation in his stomach that increased his nausea.  Once they settled, the engine cutting out, they all stood, silently, watching the door open with a hiss before shuffling out one by one.

The Keyblade Graveyard was just as Ventus remembered it – a barren wasteland, filled with ash and dust he was sure would fill the air if the world allowed for even a single breeze.  The sun shone mercilessly down on the cracked earth; somehow, the air was still chilled, prickling goosebumps along his skin.  In front of them, light glinted off a thousand abandoned keys, weathered with age, stretching off into the horizon.

And there was not a single soul in sight.

“Where are they?” Sora wondered.

Mickey bounced ahead, Keyblade at the ready, “Keep your guard up.”

There was a moment of tense silence, all of them instinctively circling up, backs facing each other to peer outwards, searching. 

Nothing.  Not even the whistle of the wind.

Then – a whine, a click.  Close.  Ventus glanced around, unable to find it.  Too close – and familiar.  It was -

There was a shift in the air behind him, the subtle pop of air displacing, and adrenaline flooded his body, prompting him to turn, Key flashing up to catch the weapon swinging at him.  The sound of the clashing blow rung deeply – not just the echo of metal on metal, but something that vibrated between them.  High in the sky, a clap of thunder split the air. 

A smirk grew across Xigbar’s face.

“Hello.”

A shadow appeared behind his shoulder, but Ventus didn’t get a good look before the whine grew in the air once more, the barrel of the gun beginning to glow inches from his chest.  He jerked to the side, throwing his Key up to move the attack off-course, the blast just barely missing his ear as it flew by.

Heart in his throat, he pivoted on one foot, leaning into the momentum to swing back around, but Xigbar vanished, shifting back into existence several yards away, gun slung over his shoulder.  The shadow followed him – slowly solidifying – and floated by his shoulder until it was snatched up by a white-gloved hand.

As Xehanort twisted his wrist in a flourish, the shadow took it took its final form: the dark, bare-bones shape of a Key.

“And so it begins,” he said.

“Xehanort,” Mickey said, “You won’t get away with this.  We’ll stop you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

In a move almost too fast to track, Mickey lunged for Xehanort.  His Key swung down, magic sparkling at the tip.  Xehanort blurred forward, meeting him with a wide grin.  The two Keys met with clang, echoed by low, dual peals of thunder.

As if that was the cue they needed, the other Organization members suddenly appeared, phasing into existence across the battlefield in a flicker of Darkness – or, some of them, at least.  Ventus ran up a quick count, finding only ten members.  The others must be with the Princesses, though that thought quickly fell to the wayside when he saw –

“Terra!  Aqua!”

His heart yearned for them; his reaching came up short.

Looking at Terra was like vertigo, that moment where the place your eyes said the ground should be and where it actually lined up didn’t quite match up, everything just slightly skewed.  That was Terra; his heart was here.  Two truths he knew and yet – it was not Terra in that body.

And Aqua – Aqua was like looking in a shattered mirror, pieces all present but broken up, distorted, and filled with jagged edges, Darkness dripping through the cracks.

Both were painful to look at.

“Let the Keyblade War begin,” Xehanort said, stepping back into a corridor and vanishing.

Behind Ventus, Riku gave a sound of surprise, nearly drowned out by the grinding of metal.  Ventus turned just in time to see Terra's armored form peeling away from Riku, a dull Key swinging behind him –

Wait, what?

That was Terra’s armor rushing towards Terra’s body, Terra’s Key swinging towards Terra’s head, murderous intent in every movement both of them made as they fell into a violent clash, quickly moving away into the Graveyard.

“Wait!” Ventus called, wings bursting from his back as he leapt after them, beating them wildly to get into the air, “Terra, come back!”

“Ven!  Look out!”

Metal flashed in his peripheral vision – too close, too fast, even if he could get his body out of the way, there’s no way it wouldn’t hit his wing.

Metal clashed against metal as a blur passed between them, and another clap of thunder echoed across the world.  Inches away, Mickey and Aqua pushed against each other for a moment before separating – Aqua fluttering back as Mickey crashed into Ventus, sending them both spinning through the air.

Ventus righted himself, quickly arcing into a little dive, eyes darting across the Graveyard, using the accumulated speed to fling himself back up into the sky.  Then, Aqua was there again, spiraling into his flightpath, herding him away.

“Aqu - !  Vanitas!  Get out of my way!”

“No, Ven,” she snapped, “Stay out of this.  You’re out of your league!”

“That doesn’t matter!” he protested, “I have to help you – I have to help Terra!”

She shook her head, Vanitas’s disdainful sneer creeping across their face, “I’ll be dealing with Terra.  You can keep busy with something more on your level.”

“I’m not leaving you – her!”

Her eyes narrowed, “Then I’ll just have to make you stay grounded.”

“What?”

She lunged, spearing through the air to maneuver around him, her Key clashing with his over and over again.  Several breathless moments passed as he tried to keep his guard up against her relentless assault – getting an attack in of his own was impossible.

Her blade flashed to the right – he spun into a dodge – she leaned back to the left, a feint!  Her blade flashed out, and there was a strange twinge through his wings and up his spine before his flight suddenly faltered, balance thrown, and he plummeted downwards.

He hit the ground at a roll, the breath punching from his lungs.  Gasping for breath, Ventus staggered to his knees, pulling his wing around to look at the damage.  It was a small wound, overall – precise, too, as Aqua so often was.  It couldn’t even be called a wound, nothing seeping from it, not even deep enough to reach the spectral bone that supported heart-wings.  They’d recover, regrow, as all damage to heart-wings did.

Still, still, his eyes burned at the betrayal as he stared at the missing inches from the bottom of his Flight feathers.

She’d clipped his wings.

Aqua landed feet away, her glowing yellow gaze weighing him down as she stalked closer.

Her heart and her hand reached for him, and he recoiled, gagging at the oily sensation of wrong-bad-invader in a precious place, echoed by the wicked glee of Vanitas’ laughter echoing across the bond.  He slammed up walls in his heart, cutting them both off, keeping them out.

He was not able to keep her hand away; her touch was sickeningly gentle.

“They’ll regenerate soon, but it should buy enough time,” she murmured, stroking his head before wrapping her hand firmly around the back of his neck, “Stay down, Ven.  It’ll all be over soon.  You can’t stop this.”

She turned away, wings spreading behind her as she took to the sky, heading to the flashing lights that marked the two Terra’s location.

“W-Wait!”

Gritting his teeth, Ventas staggered to his feet.  He had to go after her – he had to –

“I don’t think so!”

Ventus spun to the side on pure instinct, barely dodging the flurry of blows that came his way, before countering, sending his opponent flying.  She regained her posture, managing to land on her feet where she sneered at him, blonde hair bristling in the electricity that sparked around her.

“Sorry, you’re down here with us, now!”

Ventus had always been fast – this girl was faster.  Not only that, but their movement across the battlefield brought the two of them into contact with another skirmish, turning the one-on-one fight into a two-on-three.  Ventus fought back-to-back with Mickey, fending off the lightning girl and a man with deadly playing cards, claps of thunder pealing above them, and then -

His breath caught as he faced off the boy with pink hair.  Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, hands trembling, he paused.

“Do you remember me?”

Marluxia faltered, briefly, before his face closed off.

“Would it matter?”

Yes, Ventus wanted to say, but Marluxia was moving once more, and the fight picked up the pace.  Somewhere in it all, the man with the cards fell.  Somewhere in it all, the lightning girl screamed, sharp and shrill, pulling back and retreating.  It distracted Marluxia, who’s guard dropped as he flinched after her.

“Ven!  Now’s your chance!” Mickey called, “Get to Aqua and Terra!”

“Right!”

Ventus rushed forward.  To the side, he could see Marluxia recovering and moving after him – but too late.  Mickey intervened, and Ventus was home free.

Now he just needed to reach his Flight.

Axel had all of about five seconds after Ventus ran off after Riku’s murder-basement armor before Saïx was in his face.  Blue hair consumed his vision as his once-friend spun, claymore swinging behind him as he twisted into a crushing blow.  Axel guarded on instinct, chakrams flashing to hand to catch the sword between them, the force of it sending him sliding back in time with an echoing clap of thunder.

As their momentum petered out, Saïx jerked his weapon free of the lock, disengaging.  Taking the chance to leap back, Axel spun his chakrams, letting his magic grow as they morphed into the Key.

Xion was right on his tail, backing him up – he wasn’t too proud to admit he felt far more confident with her on his side.  She’d long since surpassed him in pure combat ability.  Together, they managed to draw him in a pincer attack, cornering him between them.

Then Saïx looked up, pale yellow light blooming in his eyes.

“Oh, shi – Xion, get back!”

“What?”

Axel lurched to the side, scooping his Flightmate up in one arm as he leapt back just as Saïx exploded with pale blue power.  As he set her down, he glanced at the sky – no moon in sight, just a thin gray layer of clouds that had accumulated since they began fighting.

“How the fu – “ he cut off, chocking on a gasp as he ducked under another wild swinging blow, dancing back from the magically powered sweeps as Saïx danced across the field.

Isa’s berserk mode was – great, just great, just what they needed.  The only thing worse was Xemnas, who decided to start running his mouth in the background.

“How perfect is this – for the traitors to finally die, once and for all, at the hands of my most loyal follower,” he crooned, “Give in, your demise is inevitable.”

“Are you just going to accept this?” Axel spat, focusing on his once-friend, trying to ignore the burning under his skin, in his veins, in his heart, “Are you really nothing but his pet, now?”

Saïx didn’t answer, too lost to his fugue state, and Xemnas continued as if Axel had never spoken.

“Of course, the last traitor of your little group is still missing – lost to the darkness,” Xemnas mused, “What a disappointing fate, for one whom we once had much hope.  I suppose we made the right choice in our plans, choosing to pour all the Keyblade’s power into the puppet, rather than Roxas.”

“Shut up!” Xion screamed, spinning away to lunge into the air, straight at Xemnas.  Her attack landed along with a rumble of thunder.  Beneath it all, Axel heard Xemnas grunting in surprise.

“Ha! Get him, Xion!” he called, channeling his pride into shrugging off Saïx, moving onto the offence.  He’d almost gotten into a grove, one he thought he could win with, when another body came barreling into the field, all three of them tripping over each other until they managed to disentangle themselves.

The moment they were free, Larxene sent him a vicious, ice-cold glare.

“Axel,” she hissed.

“Larxene,” he greeted warily.

“Isn’t this just perfect,” she said, lightning crackling at her fingertips, “I think it’s time to get a little payback for wrecking our plans.

“Oh, are you still mad about that?”

“You ruined everything!  We had the perfect scheme - “

Axel couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, prompting her to look even more incensed.

“Are you making fun of me?” she snarled, “I’ll tear you apart, you loathsome, arrogant little - ”

Larxene cut off with a choked gasp, hands coming up to grasp against the metal sticking through her chest from behind.  The blade wrenched free, and she collapsed to her knees, an almost comical expression of confused distress on her face before she faded into Darkness.

Behind where Larxene once stood, Xion slowly lowered her Keyblade to her side.

“...oh, shit.”

Xion blinked slowly, “Who... was that?”

“Right, you never - “ Axel cut off as Saïx swung for his head, “Uh, I’ll explain later!”

Back and forth, back and forth – an infuriating stalemate, one that was wearing him down, and hopefully wearing away at Saïx, too.

Footsteps behind him – he tensed –

“Woah!” Axel spun out of the way of the little Riku - no, that would be Hitoshi – running by, guard up.  No attack came, however, the kid running past and further into the chaos of the graveyard.

Another interruption?  Where is he - ?  Axel didn’t have time to complete the thought before Saïx was in his face, and he had to focus on the fight once more.

From the moment Terra’s armor tore itself from his shoulder, re-constituting itself and running off on its own, everything descended into chaos.  Ventus moved off – Mickey at his heels.  The rest of the Organization began moving quickly after that – Saïx, in particular, honing in on Axel.

“Sora, Kairi!” Riku called, “You two find the princesses!  We’ll deal with these guys!”

“But - “

From the corner of his eyes, Riku saw two Organization members he couldn’t afford to leave to the others.

“Go - now!”

Spreading his wings, Riku left them behind, pushing out two distractions to focus on two things:

First: take care of Ansem, once and for all.

Second: recover Hitoshi for Naminé.

Ansem was patiently waiting for him – watched his approach, even, with a cool, even gaze.  Riku would almost prefer he’d met him with fury, but... he understood, too.  It was an empathy he couldn’t put into words. 

The replica, on the other hand, was prowling an invisible line between them like a caged animal.

“So, we meet again,” Riku said, meeting Ansem’s gaze evenly.

“Yes,” Ansem said, before his gaze drifted down to the Key in Riku’s grip, “I see you have gained the allegiance of the Keyblade of Darkness; so you truly have gained mastery over it.  Have you excepted it as truth?  Or do you still stand by your answer – that you do not belong to the Darkness?”

Riku shook his head, “To understand the Darkness... you need the Light.  As long as you let Darkness consume you, you will never truly understand it, only fall for its lies.  That’s the truth.”

“So that is your belief.  Then face me,” Ansem said, “Our final clash.  Show me the truth of Darkness.”

“Would you both shut up!” Hitoshi snapped, “You really think this guy can beat us?  He’s weak.  I won’t be upstaged by some pathetic coward who’s scared of the dark!”

Hitoshi lunged, and the fight was on, peals of thunder ringing out as they clashed.

It became clear very quickly that facing both of them at once would lead to failure, if it was allowed to go on for very long; he’d need to get one of them out of the way.

And Hitoshi was the weak link.

It was a work of the moment to change the pattern – he knew every move the kid could make – get in close, let his Key fade away, get a solid grip on Hitoshi and throw.

Riku turned to Ansem before he’d even landed.

“You want your answer?” he asked, “Then let me show you – just you and me.”

Ansem considered him silently for a long moment before nodding solemnly.  A wave of his hand brought up a smokey purple barrier, trapping the two of them together – and Hitoshi on the outside.

Fighting Ansem was strangely rote.

He’d done this before: the echo of him, in Castle Oblivion, at the bottom of the dream in the Sleeping Realms.  In the depths of his own heart, over and over and over.

The fight was familiar like his own Darkness, like the back of his hand, like an old friend, and he was stronger than he’d ever been.  Of course, he won. 

And now, Ansem stood across from him, slow fading in the Dark.

“How strange – to have been so wrong, after all my searching,” Ansem sighed, “In moments, I’ll be taken back to the past.  I’ll forget all about this.  But for now, just for a moment... I see it.  The truth of the Darkness.  It seems you see more clearly than I, after all.”

Riku breathed carefully around the ache in his chest.  He’d been fighting to be free of Ansem for so long, and yet...

“You know... I’m going to miss you.”

“Heh,” Ansem chuckled, a wry smile crossing his face, “Don’t be a fool.  It is time to move on.  There is more to seek: so go forth and seek it.”

He faded away – and with him, the barrier.  Riku turned to the side as Hitoshi began to shuffle.  The replica brandished his sword, but his hands were shaking, and his eyes were wide.

“You can always stop,” Riku said softly.

“Shup up,” Hitoshi said, flinching when his voice broke instead of snapping, “Shut up!  What do you have that I don’t?  Huh?”

What did he have?  Riku tipped his head, considering the other thoughtfully.

“I know who I am.  And... I have the people who mean the most to me.  Do you know who that is?”

Hitoshi snarled silently, but his eyes skittered away.  He moved onto his toes, and for a moment Riku thought he would attack anyways, but then, abruptly, he turned on his heels and darted off into the chaos of the battlefield.

“Hey, wait!”

Riku spread his wings, leaping into the sky to track him from above.  Only seconds later, though, he had to jerk to the side, avoiding a beam of magic as wide around as himself that carved its way through the sky.  When he circled back around to safety, Hitoshi had vanished.

One corner of the field - where the blast had originated – was taken up by the clash between Aqua, Terra, the armor, and Ventus.  Mickey darted across the field after a head of bright pink hair.  Axel’s red hair made it easy to find him and Xion, Saïx and Xemnas’s silhouettes just as distinctive. 

But still no Hitoshi.

Further afield, near some rocky spires, several figures flitted through the air – no, they were moving towards him, two of them at least.  The lead moved quickly towards the ground – towards the older Keyblade wielders, in fact, with a tail right behind them.  As they got closer, he began to make them out – white and red hair -

Kairi?  And then, it must be the youngest Xehanort, the only white-haired enemy that would have wings.  That wasn’t Hitoshi either, then – and he’d have to trust Kairi had it under control -

But, wait.  If she was chasing Xehanort... who was with Sora?

His gaze snapped back to the last figure, still circling over the spires in the distance – and slowly descending to the shadows on the ground.

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