#shining hearts ~ melodies and melancholy

[jasmariswonderland]

“Abandon thought and let the dream descend…”

A huge thank you to @/chirtttttttt on twitter for this hauntingly gorgeous VilDani commission from one of my favorite scenes from my fic Shining Hearts ~ Melodies and Melancholy. They did such a wonderful job capturing both the beauty and tragedy of this scene.💙

Read it here on Ao3 | Read it here on Tumblr

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ…"

Word count: 7,150.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

REUNION — 11. Her.

Her heart skipped a beat when, inadvertently, she nearly collided with him at the threshold of Helaena’s door. Although she should have anticipated the possibility of finding him there, her thoughts had absorbed her so completely that she forgot about that eventuality.

Aemond looked at her intently before slightly inclining his head in a greeting that felt as harsh as a cold slap. “Niece” he pronounced with a formality that seemed unusual, like a barrier that had risen.

It was as if that single word was a reminder of the distance that now lay between them, a sharp contrast to the days when they had called each other by their names, when their voices had been soft and intimate, meant only for each other’s ears.

Upon entering, a feeling of relief enveloped her, as if the warmth of the place allowed her to release the breath she had been holding and as if the very air within had the power to soothe her troubled spirit. 

It was a reflection of Helaena: decorated with soft tones and peculiar objects that seemed to have been chosen with almost ritualistic care. There were antique furnishings and pale blue silk curtains, and delicate aromas of dried flowers and spices pervaded the air. Everything created an atmosphere that made her feel like she was in a world apart, far from the realities waiting outside those walls.

“It is lovely to see you, princess” Helaena said, her voice as soft and ethereal as she remembered, a melody that always seemed to float in the air. Despite the years, she retained that magical aura.

“And you as well, princess” she replied, returning the smile. “I was wondering, could I interest you in a walk through the gardens?”

Helaena’s smile deepened as she nodded, then rose from her chair and approached her. She remembered that she had never been fond of physical contact, so with a subtle gesture, she decided not to offer her arm, respecting that particular trait that had always characterized her.

They walked side by side, exchanging words about trivial matters as they made their way through the halls. The bustle that filled the place and the presence of others compelled them to keep the conversation light, avoiding topics that might attract idle glances. However, there was an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts, a tacit understanding flowing between them.

Eventually, the noise of the castle faded as they reached the gardens. The winding paths were lined with freshness and color, and the murmur of the fountains created a soothing symphony. The sky was a clear blue, dotted with fluffy clouds, and the air was filled with the sweet perfume of flowers and the crisp and salty scent of the sea.

“I heard that you got married” she began gently as she chose her words with care. She watched Helaena closely, noticing the way her serene expression flickered for a brief moment, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. It was a subtle change, almost imperceptible, but it revealed melancholy. A pang of guilt quickly followed, realizing she had touched a delicate subject. “I apologize, I did not intend to…”

“It is quite alright, do not fret” Helaena raised a hand to reassure her, a gesture filled with understanding that eased her discomfort. “This marriage may not have been what any of us would have wished for, but some things simply must be.”

She nodded, feeling a small ache as she saw the resignation in her aunt’s blue eyes, those that used to shine with such pure light and now seemed to have lost some of their sparkle. “He may not be the greatest husband, but he is a good brother” she added, offering a faint smile. Her words were an attempt at comfort, though she knew they carried a weight, an acknowledgment of the complexities and compromises Helaena had to endure.

She found herself wondering how much she had sacrificed, how many dreams had been set aside for the sake of duty. 

“And are you happy here?” she asked, hoping to delve into Helaena’s feelings, into that deep well of emotions her aunt had always carried with her. There was something in her expression, a latent sadness, a yearning for something more that she couldn’t ignore.

Helaena paused, gazing into the distance before she spoke. “Happiness is a curious thing,” she said with a wistful tone, “sometimes it hides in the most unexpected places. I believe I have discovered a peace here that I did not foresee, though it is not what one might imagine.”

She felt admiration and sadness as she listened, recognizing the strength it took to find peace in less-than-ideal circumstances. “That can be a form of happiness” she offered gently, aiming to convey her understanding. “It may differ, but it is nonetheless genuine.”

Helaena smiled softly. “Indeed” she agreed. “It is a gift in itself, and I have learned to cherish it.”

She nodded slowly. She knew her aunt had always had a special connection to the world, a perception that transcended the visible, touching the mystical, the ineffable, and that what she had found was not resignation but a deep acceptance of her place in the grand scheme of things.

“And how has time treated you?” Helaena asked.

She swallowed, aware of the subtext in her own response. “Time can be relentless, yet it is also revealing” she said, with a tone that tried to remain neutral. “However, Dragonstone has truly brought me joy and transformed me.” A faint smile touched her lips as she allowed herself to reflect on the place she had come to love. “I hope you might visit someday; Aegon’s garden is as beautiful as they say. Perhaps less vibrant than this, but just as lovely. There are blueberry trees and numerous pines” she added.

Helaena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, I do like it very much” she said.

She cleared her throat, as if preparing to pose a question whose weight could change the course of the conversation. “How has he been?” she finally asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, almost as if fearing that the wind might carry her question away before receiving an answer. 

“My dear brother is quite hard to decipher” she responded. “He has merely been… simply existing.” She paused, then added, “I do believe your visit might prove beneficial for him.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, a sound born of frustration and the nagging doubt that her presence could make any difference. Her expression twisted with sadness and cynicism, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her. “I am uncertain that my presence is what he requires” she muttered, the words tinged with a bitterness she hadn’t intended to show. 

Helaena, however, only chuckled softly at her response, her gaze knowing. “You may be surprised” she said with a smile. “Sometimes, fate takes its toll on us in ways we cannot control” Helaena mused. “I am sure he wishes to speak with you.”

She knew that when Helaena spoke with certainty about the future, her words were more a revelation than a mere observation, so a spark of hope emerged within her.

The sea breeze gently caressed their faces as they continued walking through the gardens. The sound of waves breaking against the sand in the distance provided a soothing backdrop that accompanied their conversation.

“I recall when we used to play here” she said, her eyes sweeping over the landscape that had witnessed so many shared laughs and secrets. “We were so different then, so innocent.”

Helaena nodded. “Time alters us all… Yet, at times, I wonder if we truly change or if we merely uncover who we are meant to be.”

She furrowed her brow, pondering these words. “Perhaps that is the case” she murmured, more to herself than to Helaena, as if trying to unravel the hidden meaning behind that reflection. There was something in her aunt’s serenity that had always puzzled her, a kind of deep calm that contrasted with the turmoil that seemed to envelop the rest of the world.

“So, Silverwing” Helaena said suddenly, smiling with a glint of complicity in her face. She smiled at the simple mention.

“It was magnificent, Helaena” she said, filled with emotion. “I feel as though all the years I awaited have finally borne fruit.”

“I knew it would come to you,” Helaena said softly. “It was destined to be.” She lowered her gaze, her voice descending. “I did see a story repeating” she murmured. “The connection between you and her is deeper than you imagine, and your destiny is tied to hers in ways we do not yet understand.”

The words lingered in the air, imbued with mystery, as if the future was traced on an invisible line only she could see.

She fell silent, immersed in the depth of what she had just heard. The sensation of standing on the edge of a premonition, of knowing that something was coming but being unable to see it clearly, was both intriguing and unsettling. Her mind raced with possibilities, questions, and the fear of the unknown. With a nervous laugh that barely masked her growing unease, she asked, “Should I be fearful?”

Helaena’s expression softened, her lips parting to speak, but before she could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment. A maid appeared before them, and with a respectful bow, informed them that Rhaenyra was awaiting her presence.

She nodded, thanking the maid with a faint smile. She turned to Helaena, who said, “It appears that duty always beckons.” 

“Shall I accompany you back to your chambers?” she asked, hoping to prolong their time together, even if only for a few more minutes. There was so much left unsaid.

“I would prefer to stay here a little longer” Helaena replied softly, almost dreamy.

She nodded again, though her mind remained tangled. As she headed toward the exit of the gardens, her steps grew slower, and before crossing the threshold back to the castle, she turned once more to look at Helaena. There, standing among the flowers and the murmurs of the garden, Helaena with her enigma and wisdom seemed to hold answers to questions she hadn’t yet fully formed. 

As she stood there, torn between staying and leaving, a flicker of movement caught her eye. From one of the nearby galleries, she saw Jacaerys making his way toward the garden. A spark of intrigue ignited within her at the sight of her brother, his presence unexpected.

She watched him for a brief moment, curiosity mingling with a sense of foreboding. With questions swirling in her mind, she finally turned away, continuing on her way.

After a quiet dinner with her family, she retired to her room. Although the bath was meant to be a refuge of calm, it did little to soothe her agitated mind; the words continued to echo in her head like an unrelenting echo.

Once in bed, frustration took hold of her, marking every line of her face with the hardness of unease. Uncertainty gnawed at her inside. Why would he want to talk to her? After years of cold silence, after so many unanswered letters and desperate pleas, what could he possibly have to say? 

She wrestled with the idea of seeking him out. Why should she be the one to make the first move when he had maintained such a cruel distance? She recalled how that very morning, during breakfast, he had shown not the slightest indication of wanting to address her, and that indifference had felt like a calculated insult, intensifying the raw edge of her anger.

The annoyance turned into an oppressive presence. She felt trapped in a cruel paradox: cast aside and yet irresistibly drawn to him. She closed her eyes, grumbling. Worse still, memories began to flood her, each one more painful than the last. Everything about him was etched into her being in an indelible way, and yet, he remained an enigma, a question without an answer.

It was tormenting to dream of the delicate act of brushing his long, silken hair; distressing to aspire to feel the softness of his skin under her fingers; exasperating to imagine being close enough to trace the features that the years had added and molded on his face; unbearable to visualize his imposing presence beside her, and maddening to fantasize about kissing the lips she once knew.

Would it be enough to stand on tiptoe to reach him, or would he have to bend down as well to close their distance? Would his mouth still hold the same sweetness it had that night? Would she still melt under the heat of his proximity with the same intensity?

Then more demoralizing questions arose: Would she still be the only one whose arrival softened his gaze with relief and illuminated it with joy? Would she still be the only one he allowed himself to show his true vulnerability to, the only refuge for his battered soul?

Each memory, each fantasy, was an echo of what had been and what could have been, both a comfort and a torment. Resignation and hope intertwined within her, each struggling to dominate the other, leaving her at an emotional crossroads. The battle between the desire to forget him and the longing to reclaim him was so intense that it offered no peace.

She wanted to hate him for what he had caused her, for the endless nights of loneliness and tears shed in his name. She wanted to hate him for the agony of waiting for a sign that never came, for the affection that remained alive despite the pain. Yet, despite her resolve, she could not. Her soul, bruised and defenseless, could not harbor that hatred. 

“Fuck” she cursed under her breath, burying her face in the pillow as if she could smother everything within her. But it was futile; every emotion refused to be silenced, every memory clung tightly to her soul.

Finally, unable to bear the pressure in her chest any longer, she got out of bed with a nearly frantic impulse. She needed to see him, and needed answers. She hastily dressed, her determined hands slipping into a silk robe that barely covered her attire, and took a candle to light her way.

She left her room, traversing the hallways she had long abandoned. Each step echoed in the night’s silence, and her thoughts raced uncontrollably, driven by an uncontainable longing. She didn’t know what she would find at the end of this path, but something inside her urged her to keep going, to face whatever awaited her in the darkness.

With each step, she questioned her decision, but then she saw him. There, approaching her. The dim light of the candle barely illuminated his features, but she didn’t need more to recognize him. They both stood frozen, staring at each other, each trapped in their own thoughts.

She wondered if he was there for her, if he had felt the same impulse, or if their meeting was merely a coincidence. Before he could confirm the latter, her lips moved forward, and though her voice tried to remain steady, a subtle tremor betrayed her nerves.

“I wished to speak with you” she said, her words hanging in the air, a tentative bridge between the two of them, each waiting for the other to cross it. “Shall we go to your chambers?”

He nodded, and though the dimness made it hard to read his expression, the surprise was evident in the tension of his posture, in the way his shoulders lifted slightly.

He walked silently beside her, guiding her to his room. The space had remained untouched, as if the years had not left their mark. Everything was in place, meticulously ordered.

She set the candle on the bedside table, and with an instinctive gesture, her gaze landed on a sapphire resting in the same spot as the one she had gifted him so many years ago. This one was smaller, less imposing, yet its presence in that familiar place pierced her core in a way she hadn't anticipated. A dull ache pierced her chest.

Without saying a word, she walked to the window, seeking the fresh air that seemed just beyond the glass. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her irregular breathing, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

“Why?” The word cut through the air like a knife, sharpened by years of pain, unrequited love, and accumulated fear that had festered in silence. She turned on her heels to face him, her voice trembling with the intensity of what she felt. At that moment, more than ever, she needed the truth. 

Why had he ignored her for so long? What invisible force had kept him away, preventing him from responding, from seeking her, even once?

She wasn't sure what answer she was yearning for. Perhaps finding comfort in the notion that he hadn’t cared as much as she had; though such a revelation might break her heart again, it would at least allow her to turn away and bury those fragile hopes that kept her on edge.

Finally, in a grave and almost muted whisper, he said: “Why what?” Hearing him again made her pulse race.

“Why did you never come to see me?” she asked, her composure wavering, barely upheld by the strength of her resolve. 

The silence that followed was unbearable. He looked at her, his eye reflecting a storm of emotions, but his lips remained sealed, as if the answers were trapped in his throat, unable to escape. His mouth opened and closed several times, making no sound, as if the weight of the truth was too heavy to bear.

“I did not know if you wished for my presence” he finally responded, so simple that it seemed almost insulting, only deepening her disbelief.

“Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she demanded with growing bitterness. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” Her voice hardened, laden with a suppressed rage that had been wounding her for too long.

“What letters?” he asked, his confusion evident, etching across his face like a blank canvas, as if he couldn’t comprehend the words she spoke. The question seemed almost naive.

“The letters!” she exclaimed, feeling her short patience running thin with every passing second, “the ones I sent you” she added, stating the obvious. The urgency to clarify the situation was like an unstoppable force, driving her to speak, to bring to light what had remained hidden. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” She finally cracked. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool. I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me” she confessed, her emotions overflowing, raw and naked before him.

“You wrote me?” he asked, as if he needed to hear it once more to fully grasp the reality of her words.

She glared at him, her frustration boiling over. How could he be so cruel as to toy with her emotions? “Do not mock me” she snapped, turning her back on him in anger. 

She felt his proximity, the radiance of his body like a magnet drawing her in, but she forced herself to look out the window, struggling to regain her composure. Then, his voice broke through, filled with a desperation that tugged at her heartstrings. 

“I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times. I swear this to you, by all the gods” he said, pleading. There was something in his tone, an earnestness that made her hesitate. It sounded so genuine, so wounded, that she couldn’t simply dismiss it.

“I never received a single letter from you” she countered, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me" he replied with pain, as if each word cost him dearly. “I thought you did not want to hear from me”

She studied him, trying to read the truth in his eyes, the shadow of anguish that seemed to cling to him. Despite the sincerity she sensed, a veil of doubt still loomed over her, casting a cold shadow over her. He had never deceived her before, and she had no reason to disbelieve him now, but the situation didn’t make sense.

“Why would I not?” she asked, distrustful. His shoulders rose in a gesture of ignorance, unable to offer a concrete answer. The confusion on his face reflected the internal chaos they shared.

Then, a possibility emerged in her mind. What if he was telling the truth? What if the years of separation were not due to their own actions, but to some malevolent force that had kept them apart? The idea was both terrifying and liberating, but she still couldn’t fully accept it.

She shook her head, her mind spinning in a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. She began to pace nervously around the room, searching for answers in the air. Her steps were quick, uneven, as her mind tried to process what she was hearing. The room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in. After several minutes of internal struggle, she halted abruptly and turned to face him. He stood still, his gaze fixed on her.

“Are you not upset about this?” she asked, skepticism still marking her tone. If all of this was true, then the situation was even more perplexing, almost impossible to comprehend.

He looked at her intently, his eye piercing through all her barriers, touching her very soul. “I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment, not when you are here before me once more” he whispered with a tenderness that seemed straight out of her wildest dreams. His words were heavy with a melancholic sincerity, as if every syllable was a tribute that carried the weight of the years they had been apart. Her own heartbeats began to quicken, almost painfully, resonating in her ears. 

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you” he continued, cutting through the layers of her distrust. “I never wanted to lose you.”

The tears that had been threatening to appear pooled in her eyes, clouding her vision. “Is that true?” she asked, trembling. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?”

He moved closer slowly, closing the distance between them with each step. “Never,” he confirmed, “not for a single second.” A small shiver ran down her spine as she heard him. The romantic words she had longed for so much, which had seemed like mere whispers in books and songs, were now manifesting in her reality, but it felt so surreal that surrendering to it seemed almost naive.

She bit her lower lip, struggling to maintain control, to not give in. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, murmuring softly, “This is too much.”

With an air of quiet acceptance, he responded, “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

She turned away, still in shock, her mind unable to fully process what had just happened. Before she could think any further, she turned back and threw herself into his arms, her body acting on her deepest wants.

He, always so prepared for anything, took a step back, caught off guard by her sudden move. Feeling his heart racing, tears began to fall uncontrollably. The embrace was fierce, as if she could hold onto the fragments of their lost time and prevent them from slipping away like the letters they never received.

He held her close, gently resting his head on hers. The only sound in the room was her ragged breathing and the small sobs escaping from her throat, creating an intimate cocoon of shared vulnerability.

“I am sorry, I am sorry for everything” she whispered through her tears. She didn’t quite know the reason for the lament, perhaps for the love they had let slip away, or for the illusion she had created to justify his silence, which didn’t do justice to the boy she had loved. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment, allowing her emotions to overflow.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head to look at him. “What do we do now?” she asked, searching for a glimmer of direction, a way forward amidst the uncertainty.

He raised a hand to her face, gently wiping away the tears that fell, the hot contact on her skin causing a tingling sensation. “I won’t let us be separated again” he said with firm determination. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

He looked at her expectantly, searching for a sign of consent, and she nodded softly, accepting the offer. In that moment, she understood that, despite the time and distance, maybe, just maybe, they could find a way back to each other.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended in a heavy silence. Their gazes intertwined, merging in an instant that felt endless. Finally, she slowly pulled away from him, though his hands seemed reluctant to let her go. With her mind overwhelmed, she let out a deep sigh and turned toward the door.

He took the candle and opened the door. He went first, leading the way that she knew better. A small smile appeared on her lips.

Arriving at the door of her room, she pushed it open and entered, pausing to look back at him. He stayed a few inches behind, right at the threshold. “Take it” she said, pointing to the candle. He nodded with a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Good night” she added.

“Good night” he replied.

Before closing the door, she gathered her courage and planted a small kiss on his cheek. The contact, though brief, left him momentarily stunned. As the door clicked shut, she leaned against it, allowing herself a moment of solitude, letting out another deep sigh.

As the minutes passed and the echo of his footsteps faded in the hallway, she moved further into the room. She set aside her silk robe and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling a cry of frustration and relief, letting the weight of the evening’s emotions pour out.

Dawn brought a new perspective and a soft light that had yet to filter through the window. She woke up with a sense of duality, both agitated and peaceful, her thoughts still tangled with the events of the previous night.

The revelation that her letters had never reached their recipient, that the words she had poured out with so much love and desperation had been lost in a void of no return, was a bittersweet blow.

It had been both reassuring and heart-wrenching at the same time, a truth that revealed much and, at the same time, very little. It had stolen her years of companionship but also showed her the resilience of a bond that seemed to defy distance and time.

She slowly sat up, the weight of emotions still fresh. Before she could finish getting ready, the door creaked open, and Lyra entered with a look of shock.

“Did you tumble from your bed?” she joked. “Are you well?” she asked, moving closer upon noticing her expression.

She took her friend's hand and gently guided her to the bed. Lyra sat beside her, her eyes filled with silent empathy.

“Has something happened?” Lyra pressed, shifting from playful to serious, and her brow furrowed more intensely.

“I visited his chambers last night” she said directly, without preamble. The reaction was immediate: her mouth fell slightly open.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lyra asked, her voice rising with indignation. She made a gesture with her hand, signaling her to keep her tone down. “Why?” she repeated, more forcefully this time.

“I needed to speak with him” she replied. The expression on Lyra’s face turned into a blend of understanding and exasperation as she tilted her head, studying her. “You yourself suggested we needed to resolve matters” she justified, trying to validate her actions.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, a gesture of reprimand. “I did not intend for you to seek him out in his chamber in the middle of the night” she corrected, low and tense. “If someone were to find out…”

“Nothing happened, we merely conversed” she interrupted, trying to defuse the situation. 

“But you are not children any longer” Lyra continued, concerned. “Such a visit would not be well seen, especially not for you.” She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. “Well, go on then, what did he say?” Lyra asked finally, her curiosity clearly overcoming her initial concern. 

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “He claimed he never received my letters and that he had written to me” she replied, quoting his words. “It turns out, both of us were left waiting, each under the impression that the other had moved on.”

“How can that be?” Lyra inquired. “That is a great deal to process.” After a moment of reflection, she asked cautiously, in a barely perceptible whisper, squeezing her hands. “Do you believe him?” 

“Yes, I do. Besides, what motive would he have to deceive me? If he had truly ignored my letters, he would have no reason to deny it.” She sighed before continuing. “Aemond can be unkind at times, but he has never been untrue.”

Lyra nodded, although doubt still lingered in her mind. “Do you think it could have been…?” she began, her tone dropping even further, as if fearing the words she was about to utter, hesitant to voice the suspicion.

“I do not believe so” she replied firmly. “This seems excessive, even for her.” Lyra looked at her skeptically, recalling past actions.

“For the woman who nearly harmed your mother?” Lyra asked, with an incredulous grimace. She bit her lip, knowing that a mother’s desperation can drive one to extreme measures, but she didn’t dismiss the idea entirely.

“But this situation does not solely affect me” she continued, with an intensity reflecting the complexity of the situation. “It affects him as well. And she cares for him deeply.”

“Precisely” Lyra agreed. “She would do whatever it takes to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” she asked with confusion. The question hung in the air, and Lyra remained silent, without a clear answer.Then, finally spoke, thoughtful. 

“She might have had reasons to keep him away from you, perhaps out of fear or misguided protection.”

She pondered, her mind racing with the possibilities. “But why? What could be so dire that it would justify such measures?”

“I do not know. But at least you have cleared the air now. What comes next?”

“I am not entirely sure” she admitted. 

After a few minutes of silent reflection, a soft chuckle escaped Lyra’s lips, slowly building into a cascade of infectious giggles. The accumulated tension seemed to dissipate with that joyful sound. She looked at her, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood.

“What is so amusing?” she asked.

Lyra tried to stifle her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand, but her eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. “Ever since I arrived, I have been giving him the cold shoulder” she admitted between giggles. “The poor boy must be utterly baffled.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of a confused and helpless Aemond. “Do you think he noticed?” she asked, the smile still lingering on her lips.

“Most likely, I looked at him like he was the stranger himself.” Lyra replied, her laughter still bubbling up. “He must have wondered what on earth he did to earn such hostility.”

Their laughter intertwined, filling the room with a warm, rejuvenating energy, washing away the remnants of earlier worries.

“Thank you for always standing by my side” she said with genuine gratitude.

“Always” Lyra replied, her hand gently brushing against hers.

Before long, a soft, persistent knocking at the door interrupted their conversation. Lyra stood up and went to open it, revealing the small figure of her younger brother, peeking in with some shyness.

“I came to fetch you for breakfast” Joffrey said.

She smiled and rose from the bed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as she got up. She approached him, taking his tiny hand tenderly, and let him lead her.

After breakfast, she enjoyed a leisurely stroll with Joffrey, their small conversation peppered with laughter. Later, they lost themselves in the depths of the library, where he became utterly captivated by the history of dragons, his curiosity leading to a flurry of questions that she eagerly answered, pleased to see his fascination.

As the day wore on, and she returned to her chambers, she began to feel the gentle pull of fatigue settling over her. With thoughts of a possible meeting lingering in her mind, she slipped off her shoes, intending to indulge in a brief nap. But just as she was about to surrender to the comfort of her bed, a series of gentle knocks interrupted her reverie. The sound was unusual, coming from the back door. A flutter of excitement stirred within her as she quickly made her way to the door.

When she opened it, she found him standing there, his expression showing relief. The sight of him brought an instant smile to her lips, one that he mirrored with a sincere, if slightly reserved, smile of his own. The mere sight of his face was a cure for her restless soul. 

“My prince, it’s a pleasure to see you” she said, friendly.

“The pleasure is all mine, my princess” he responded carrying a touch of formality that didn’t quite mask the underlying nervousness. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat and added, with a hint of uncertainty, “I was wondering if you might grace me with your company for lunch.” 

She looked at him, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. “Yes, I would like that. Shall we dine on the balconies?” she suggested, her tone light and inviting.

He hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his features as his gaze shifted. “I was thinking… perhaps my chambers” he finally said, unsure whether his proposal would meet her expectations.

She raised her eyebrows in mock startelement, a playful glint as she teased, “Do you truly believe that to be appropriate?”

His composure faltered, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “No, of course not, you are right” he stammered, clearly flustered. “If the balconies are your preference, I can…” His voice faded into a murmur, the words trailing off into an insecure murmur.

She interrupted him with a light laugh, a melody that seemed to dissipate the tension in the air. “I was only jesting, let us be off.” 

She turned away momentarily to slip her shoes back on, then returned to his side, his expression more relaxed. He offered his arm to her, and she took it gently, feeling the heat of the contact despite the leather suit he wore. 

Together, they walked their way down the hall, the midday sun filtering through the narrow windows, bathing their faces in golden light that made the atmosphere feel even more intimate. They couldn’t help but steal furtive glances, trying to decipher each other’s thoughts.

Upon reaching his room, she was greeted by a scene of meticulous preparation. The table near the window was elegantly set, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Every detail had been considered—the dishes arranged with care, the variety of delicacies laid out like a feast for the senses, all reflecting the thoughtfulness of someone who had taken great pains to create something special.

As they approached the table, he hurried to pull out a chair for her, a courteous gesture that brought a soft smile to her lips. “Thank you” she murmured as she settled into it. 

He sat across from her, and as he did, the atmosphere seemed to soften, the initial tension giving way to a more comforting familiarity. “An entire army could feast on this” she teased, her gaze sweeping over the overflowing table. “Does no one find it strange that you requested so much food?” Her curiosity was laced with a hint of excitement, wondering if he had mentioned she was joining him.

He offered a shy smile, a quiet laugh escaping as he began serving the food. “I was unsure of your preferences” he admitted. “And no, I usually dine with my sister.” His voice held a note of apology that didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience to her” she said, with a slight disappointment, but acknowledging the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. The care he’d taken in preparing the lunch spoke volumes, revealing a sincere desire to share this moment with her.

“No such thing” he reassured, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She understood the unspoken message—Helaena, no doubt, was already aware and understood.

As they began to serve themselves, the meal took on a significance beyond the food on their plates. Their conversation flowed easily, touching on lighthearted topics—books they had read, childhood memories that evoked shared laughter, recent events that bridged the gap of time they had spent apart. She noticed how his face brightened with each bite, relaxed. Yet, beneath their words, there was a palpable tension underlying it, a tacit acknowledgment that something important was about to be discussed.

When the meal drew to a close, a silence settled between them—not the awkward kind, but rather the type that felt like a collective breath, a pause before something of great importance. It was as if they were both gathering their thoughts, preparing for the conversation they both knew was inevitable. The room, now quieter, holding its breath alongside them, the air thick with anticipation as they hovered on the brink of a pivotal moment.

She stood up slowly, excusing herself before walking toward the window. Perching on its edge, she gazed out, lost in the endless expanse of the city below. After a brief pause, he followed, leaning against the wall beside her, close enough to share the view but leaving a respectful distance. “It seems like the city never rests” she whispered, barely louder than the soft hum of life outside. He followed her gaze, nodding in quiet agreement.

The silence between them grew deeper, as if the world itself had paused to allow them to find the right words. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Last night… I did not truly know what to say” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the stones. His hands, usually so sure and steady, now betrayed him, fidgeting with a nervous energy that seemed out of place. “It was… too overwhelming.” She watched him, allowing him to find his own rhythm as he spoke, giving him space to organize his thoughts.

“I cannot help but feel that this is an opportunity the gods have placed before us” he continued, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, a fragile flicker of hope igniting within him. “I know not if this is the right moment… or if there ever is a right moment” he added, his fingers scratching at the sensitive skin on the side of his nails.

Before his nervous hands could inflict harm, she reached out, gently enclosing them within her own, her fingers wrapping around his in a tender, reassuring embrace. Under her comforting touch, his anxiety slowly faded. She drew him closer, making him sit beside her, their faces now almost at the same level.

He looked out toward the horizon. “I know I promised you time last night… and if that is what you require, I shall honor it” he murmured. “We can start anew… rediscover who we are now. But I feel that, no matter how much we have changed, deep within… we are still ourselves. And I have spent too many days regretting the words I never spoke, the chances I did not seize.”

He turned his gaze from the horizon back to her. “And if there is one thing of which I am certain, it is what I feel for you” he whispered, raw with emotion.

She met his gaze, her curiosity flickering, the unspoken need to hear the words that had yet to cross his lips. “And what, pray tell, do you feel for me?” she asked softly, aching to uncover the depths of him.

He inched a little closer, his eye locking onto hers with a fierce intensity that seemed to draw in all the light around them and steal her breath away. “A force that compels me to search for you in every corner of my soul, the reason my days feel hollow and incomplete if you are not in them" he said, letting the weight of his feelings settle between them like a fragile, precious thing. "Without you, I am but a dragon without fire, a mere shadow of what I could be… with you by my side”

She stared at him, paralyzed by the beauty of his words, unable to find her voice. The seconds stretched out, feeling like an eternity until he, with a tone laced with vulnerability, asked, “And you, do you feel the same about me?”

A pang of remorse pierced her chest for making him wait and for the doubt she had created in him. “Yes, I do” she answered with the undeniable truth.

He sighed, relief and hope lighting up his face. “I believe we must tread cautiously, at least for a time” he said. “There is still one who does not wish to see us united. If we keep this between us, it will be easier to protect what we share.”

She nodded, caught in a tug-of-war between the desire to proclaim their love to the world and the understanding of his wish for caution. While every fiber of her being longed to declare their victory over the obstacles that had stood in their way, she knew there was wisdom in his words.

“I have missed you” he confessed so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet of the room.

“And I you” she replied, “dearly”

He looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart swell, then the space between them seemed to dissolve as their hands remained clasped. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Would you like to spend the rest of the afternoon with me?” he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @truly-abysmal @fossface @congenialcopycat @that-girl-named-alex @oh-you-mean-me

now it's going to start the good part i promise! besitos.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Happy Kinktober, dears! 🎃👀

I've been wanting to write something with Pirate Captain Alcina again for awhile now and what better time than to kick off our favorite month! 😌 This fic takes place in the same universe as my other Captain Alcina fics and includes my OC Rynn Lancaster as Reader 👀 I do hope some of you will enjoy!

TW: Degradation

Word count: 3,200

The soft creak of weathered wood against leathered boots as you took a step onto the bow of the Bloody Maiden. It was long past the hours that your Captain and current lover usually came to lie next to you in your quarters, and you were more than certain you knew exactly where you’d find her. She had a usual spot - when solemn nights made the Captain’s mind begin to wander further than she’d like, frolicking through past memories of both good and bad. So, just as you'd done many times before, you followed the trail of slickened moonlight up the slightly rotted boards and headed towards the front of the ship. Finding Alcina’s ravened hair shimmering in the dark as if it were a sky of velvet.

Her face looked tired, pensive - though it still shined brighter than any gem within any bounty you could come across. You walked softly so as not to startle her, doing your best to not disrupt her mullings. In all honesty, though, you’d be content just to stand there - with the smell of the ocean breeze upon the wind and her beauty in your eyes - for the rest of the evening.

“You're not as quiet as you think, my dear.”

Her voice was light and playful as she spoke, but you could see the weight of the world in her eyes.

“Pshh.. Whaat? I'm as quiet as a mouse, my dear Captain.” You quipped back, bowing flamboyantly.

She chuckled in a way that made your heart warm over. “Are you now? Is that why I heard you the moment you ascended the stairs?”

You stuck out your tongue at her just slightly and walked over.

“I'd say that has more to do with your innate abilities as a Captain than my lack of skills.”

She caught your smirk and smirked in turn, turning slightly from her position at the hull.

“Mh.. perhaps.”

She gave you a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and turned them back to the ocean ahead, a soft melody upon her lips that was dipped in melancholy. The dark waves always a mirror of what life as a pirate was truly like. The ups and downs - the ebb and flow. Of course there were always good times to be had, but more often than not, a Captain’s life was a solitary life. Especially for someone like Alcina. And while you wished sometimes that she’d spend more time with the crew, you understood her need for boundaries. And you always respected them.

You walked a little closer to her and laid your arms across the wood of the railing, breathing in the fresh night air.

“What's on your mind, Cap’n?” You asked.

The soft touch of your fingers on hers brought a smile to her lips as she looked over at you.

“Have I ever mentioned that you know me entirely too well for my own liking, Rynn Lancaster?” She smirked.

“Nope.” You replied, shaking your head with fervor. “Never.”

She laughed and took your hand in hers, sighing.

“It would be true to say that both nothing and everything is currently on my mind, pet.”

“Ah, one of those nights.”

“Mh.” She hummed in thought, eyes trailing back to the shoreline.

“Would you care for a distraction then?”

Her eyes flickered back to you, looking almost metallic in the shift.

“Depends. What sort?” Alcina inquired.

“Hmmm.. Captain's choice.”

A glint of crimson in the moonlight as a shark-like grin curled across her lips.

“A rather dangerous choice.”

“I can take it.”

“Mmh, indeed you can.”

“I-” You felt your face heat up fiercely as you stammered and let out a breath. The feared pirate Captain only chuckled, her strong arm coming around your hips to pull you closer.

“You are rather cute when you fluster, dear.”

“Rude. I don't fluster, I just momentarily forget how to speak.”

“Mhm.. and that blush upon your cheeks?”

“Merely a side effect from the moonlight.”

“Ah.”

Alcina chuckled again and pulled you a little closer, her warmth quickly enveloping you. It was moments like these that always reminded you just how privileged you were to see this side of her. Alcina Dimitrescu, feared Captain of the Bloody Maiden and renowned Countess of the Seven Seas. There wasn't a pirate alive that hadn't at least heard of her. She was a legend - known for her innate intuition and expert pillaging. As well as her bloodthirst.

But you, you were gifted with a whole different side of her. A softer side. A side that very few had ever had the chance to witness. Save for her daughters, of course. And maybe Sal.

You looked over at her, her dark beauty brought alive by the nestling of stars behind her and the moonlight that shone so brightly. Her breath calm and calculated, causing a soft rise and fall to her .. very well endowed bosom. The crimson shirt that hugged her in the most exquisite ways was buttoned in a most perfect way - leaving very little to the imagination. She was wearing your favorite corset, a fact that made you hum out loud.

“Thoughts wandering, pet?”

“Hm? Me? I.. no. Of course, not. Never.”

Alcina turned again in your direction, her arm still wrapped firmly around your hips and she leaned back against the railing of the ship. The simple trailing of her fingers down her sternum made your face heat up even more.

“Hm.. pity.” She smirked, lips shimmering in the dark.

You swallowed again, this time turning to face her as well.

“So, uh.. about that distraction..?”

Alcina chuckled and shook her head. “Mhm.. just as I thought. Needy.”

“For you? Alwa-”

The pirate’s hand came abruptly around your throat and pulled you towards her - her lips suddenly pressed warmly against yours. A soft moan lost within the kiss as you melted into it. The grip on her neck was both firm and tender with the smallest amount of pressure on your windpipe.

You felt dizzy when she finally let you go, smiling in a way that you were sure was slightly embarrassing.

“Well, that was unfair…”

“Was it?”

You gave her a single nod and leaned in closer, pressing your body into hers. A raised eyebrow in your direction and a look that told you that you were obviously playing with fire.

But you didn't care.

Not in the least.

You could take it, after all.

“Captain's choice, hm?” She smirked.

“Yep. I am, as they say, at your service.” You replied with a wink.

She grabbed your throat again, making you whimper. A simple kiss upon your forehead before she forced you down onto your knees, your back against the railing.

“Very well.”

Alcina rose to her full height before you, casting you in the dark shadow, her large frame fully blocking out the moonlight. Her gaze luminous, playful, flickering with delight as she unsheathed her sword before her fingers came to undo her belt buckle. You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“Ah.. Captain.. should we.. maybe take this back to our quarters?”

Alcina clicked her tongue as she continued to undress.

“Nonsense. The only person fool enough to come looking for me this late at night is you, my dear. Plus..” She replied with a smirk, dropping the last of her undergarments to the floor and rested one of her legs upon the height of the railing next to you - her exquisite folds glistening with want before you.

You licked your lips and let out a shaky breath. The headiness of her musk already floating upon the ocean air.

“I- .. y-yes.. ah.. you make a very good point, Captain. A very good point indeed.”

“Mhm.. now, get to work.”

Alcina’s large hand came to the back of your head as she pulled you into her. Moaning at the first taste you scooted yourself even closer and wrapped your arms around her thighs. Gods, she tasted divine - intoxicating. Like a cold ale after a particularly long haul - you just couldn't get enough. Not of her. Not of the way she tasted. Felt. Enveloped the entirety of your mouth as you drank her in.

She moaned each time you elongated your tongue into her - her back slightly arched, giving you more. The soft caresses through your hair quickly turning to subtle, rough tugs the higher you coaxed her. If your Captain were an instrument, you had learned exactly where to play her. Where to taste her. Where to keep your tongue playing over to an all too forgotten tune.

And you didn't stop when she began to buck her hips into you. Nor when she dug her nails into your scalp. You only licked harder. Sucked mercilessly. Holding her in place just firm enough to keep her exactly where you wanted her.

That was until her pleasure finally peaked and her desire poured warmly into your mouth - over your lips - giving you maybe a minute to drink in the rest of her before she had you by the throat again. She lifted you to your feet - your face slick with her desire. A swift look of her surroundings and the Captain gave you a smirk, hand falling from your throat.

“Turn around.”

“Ahm-”

“Do as I say.”

Shuddering at her firm command you quickly turned around.

“Hands on the railing.”

You placed your hands upon the weathered wood and waited. Patiently. Obediently. Knowing whatever Alcina had in mind would surely be worth it. And when your eyes caught her subtle, swift movement - large hands reaching towards the pile of rope next to her - you swallowed.

“Any objections?” She smirked, loosely holding the strand of woven twine in the moonlight.

“Objections? M-me? Never.” You scoffed, swaying your hips teasingly from side to side.

“Mhm.”

Her stride was one of an experienced hunter - purposeful, dangerous. Wearing nothing but a partially unbuttoned collared shirt over her corset and a sinful smirk as she walked back over to you. Her alabaster skin made a mockery of the silvered moon above. The ship around you slightly rocked and the ocean breeze blew through your gingered hair. With such experienced fingers Alcina had your wrists bound to the railing in a matter of minutes, the rope firm against your flesh.

“Comfortable?”

You smirked, choosing yet again to play with fire.

“The most feared Pirate of the Seven Seas, going out of there to make sure little ol’ me is comfy?”

You caught about a glimmer of crimson before Alcina's hands were on your hips. A swift tug to pull you into position before her fingers came to the hemline of your underwear ( luckily for you, you never slept in pants ).

“Seems it may be time for me to remind you just what that mouth of yours is best used for.”

“Hmm.. my poetry and humorous quips?”

“No.” She practically growled as she ripped the simple fabric from your body, her large frame leaning in - ravened curls tickling the side of your ear. “You moaning my name.”

“F-fuck.” You shuddered. You both loved and hated how easily she could turn you on. With a simple firm tone and a pull at your hips. You were already wet enough to feel the cool night air between your legs, the measure of your arousal prevalent.

“Spread your legs.” She half growled again, making you whimper. “Do it.”

You felt a hand come around your throat from the back and you immediately obeyed, spreading your legs wider for her.

“That's a good whore.”

Her words were sickly sweet, making your body hot all over. It was a deep heat that resonated from the top of your head and landed directly in your core. You cried out in earnest when you felt her palm make contact with your skin, striking your ass with a sting. Followed by a desperate moan falling from your lips and a gasp as she grabbed your hips again.

“Please…” You whimpered.

“Please, what?”

It was clear by the smug look on Alcina's face that she was enjoying this. You, needy. Already desperate and pleading for her.

“Please, fuck me. Fuck.”

The pirate snorted, fingers gently tracing the outskirts of your core. “With that mouth?”

“You can do anything you want with this mouth, just fuck me.”

You were about the smirk in her direction when another strike landed across your backside, bringing an immediate heat to your cheeks. You whimpered, quite pathetically, and begged again.

“Please.”

With her other hand still firm around your throat you felt her enter you - one finger at first and then another, slowly stretching you out. Your hands bound in such a way that it left you completely at her mercy - entirely helpless.

Exactly how she wanted you.

“M-more. Please.”

She slid her fingers from your core and then drove them back in again, forcing you to bite your lip.

“Patience.”

The pirate paid no mind to your needy pleas, or how you squirmed against her. Her fingers both filling you and leaving you wanting more with each thrust. With each curl of her fingers there was only one thing you wanted. Needed.

“More.” You tried again.

Though, even as she picked up her speed it still wasn't enough. You feared it would never be enough. You yearned to be completely filled by her in every way. How you wished in that moment to be back in your quarters, with your chest of toys nearby and at your disposal. You whimpered as she continued to tease you. Her slow and languid thrusts only making you all the more needy, while your core ached for more.

“Please.” You begged again without shame, forcing your hips back into her.

“Impatient wench.” She hissed, the hand around your throat growing tighter. You swallowed against her palm and whimpered.

“Please, Mistress.”

You felt her fingers flinch inside of you before they slid out. A single second of aching emptiness before she rammed them back into you, finally adding another. The stretch was exquisite, delicious. A perfect mesh of pleasure and pain that sent an all encompassing heat across your body. Fuck, you felt so good. So full. Your core throbbing around the width of her.

“Ah- .. th-thank you, Mistress.”

She growled at the term, curling her fingers deep inside you once again. Your entire self was in her grasp. Wrists bound, hand around your neck. Her large frame caging you in as she held you in place. Each thrust followed immediately by another. Slow and deep. Fast and hard. Shifting each time she felt your pleasure start to peak, with your moans growing louder and a tremble across your legs. The cool ocean air blew against your fevered flesh, making you shiver all the same.

“Please. Let me cu-”

“You'll come when I say so, pet.”

She placed a tender kiss to the back of your neck and slowed her pace even more, her fingers curling deep within you. Your legs began to shake with need, each thrust matched with an equally needy whimper. You were soaked - dripping - your arousal coating her fingers and the inside of your inner thighs. You may have pleaded again, or it may have just been another whimper, your mind was too fogged over to tell. You did your best to slam your hips back into her and this time she didn't stop you. Instead her fingers came to tighten around your neck again as she abruptly picked up her speed.

“F-fuck.”

Your pleasure swiftly built, heating up your whole body. A prickling heat that crept across you like the mist upon an open sea. It was unhindered - unbearable, even - with your hips jerking and bucking back into her.

“F-fuck.. please. Please let me come.” You whined, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes.

Alcina chuckled, pulling your neck back just far enough to make eye contact with you.

“Come, then. Now.”

With that, she drove her fingers into you with unrelenting speed and you screamed out right. A violent shake across your body as it immediately, and without question, obeyed. The world around you blacked out by pleasure, replacing the Bloody Maiden with fireworks and the feeling of absolute bliss. You felt every part of you convulse as your orgasm ripped through you, body still held in place by Alcina's strong grip. Your breath quickened against the palm of her hand, flesh damp against her skin. Subtle shudders meeting each pump of her fingers as you rode out your high.

For a moment you couldn't move. Not even when she slowly removed her fingers from your core and brought them to your lips.

“Clean them.”

And you did, eagerly - even if half conscious with your legs trembling. Your tongue swirled around her fingers at your taste. And Alcina hummed, content, once you’d finished and placed a soft kiss to your temple before freeing your wrists from the railing.

“Think you can you walk?” She asked, looking over your wrists for any signs of of rope burns. And even with the smug tone to her voice, you knew she was genuinely asking.

“Nope. Pretty sure.. I'll never walk again. You’ll just have to.. carry me from here on out.” You joked between breaths, making the pirate chuckle.

*Mmh.. we’ll see. Take a moment and rest before trying.”

Alcina left you to breathe while she dressed. Her fair skin, dampened with sweat, luminous in the bright moonlight - the moon now high, stood directly above you. If you'd had a little more mental clarity, you'd have opened your mouth and told her how devastatingly beautiful she was, but the best you could do was hold yourself up and wait for your legs to stop shaking.

Which, eventually, they did.

“Well? Think you can make it?”

You chuckled as you straightened your back, finally rising to your full height. Your nightshirt was more than a bit disheveled and your underwear now a mere memory as it lay tattered on the floor.

“Hm. Think so. Probably.”

You took a step and immediately wobbled, making Alcina snort.

“Hardly, pet. Remain still.”

You waited where you stood, with a warm blush across your cheeks that only deepened when your Captain took you into her arms and lifted you with ease.

“Heh.. thanks.”

A tiny smile upon her lips as she looked down at you.

“It is the least I can do, no? Consider I'm the one who left you in such a state.”

“I mean.. true.. but still, thank you.”

You looked up at her a bit sheepishly and she hummed, holding you a little closer.

“Did it help?” You asked, drowsy.

“What, dear?”

“The.. distraction..”

She laughed warmly. “Mh.. very much. Now rest.”

You nodded and curled into her bosom. Her warmth and steady breathing was all you needed to feel safe in the world. As your eyes grew heavier with each step, your mind began to fog again. Though, before it fully drifted off you couldn't help but have one final thought: which of the crew would be the first to find your discarded underwear left in pieces on the deck.

[n0cturn4]

Series In every universe - 10 . Damian Wayne

Character: Damian Wayne x Reader Summary: "What do you want me to do for you?" Word Count: 654 Land of Ancient Times.

In a distant kingdom, where rivers whispered ancient secrets and trees danced to the whim of the wind. She inhabited the crystalline waters of a river that wound through enchanted woods, her laughter reflected in the currents and her dances adorned with flowers that gently floated around her ethereal body alongside her river sisters.

One morning, as the rays of the sun filtered through the leaves, a young knight with an intense gaze and unparalleled skill approached the riverbank. It was Damian, heir to a kingdom struggling against shadows, a prince marked by pain and responsibility. His steps were silent, but the weight of his title resonated in his heart.

You watched him, fascinated, as he crouched by the water's edge, touching the surface with the tips of his fingers, as if wishing to understand the essence of life that pulsed there. You felt an instant connection, a flame that illuminated the darkness surrounding the prince. However, beneath the water's surface, a subtle sadness lingered, like the mist that rises at dawn.

"What is your desire, noble knight?" you asked, your voice a soft echo of aquatic melodies.

Damian lifted his gaze, deep as the river's abyss. "What do you want me to do for you?" he inquired, his tone laden with longing and curiosity.

You smiled, a serene glow in your eyes, but something melancholic sparkled in your gaze. "I want you to stay exactly as you are. You are already everything." The declaration flowed like water, filled with authenticity and emotion. You saw in Damian not just a prince, but a being who carried the weight of the world, and his essence was so magnificent that you wished to preserve it in all its imperfection.

Surprised by the simplicity of your desire, Damian felt his heart warm. "You are the reason I fight," he murmured, the words heavy with meaning, but a shadow crossed his face. "And you? What makes you happy in such a dark world?"

The gentle breeze that passed seemed to whisper the laments of the waters. "I dance among the currents and play with the rays of the sun. Yet, there is a sadness that accompanies me, like an invisible shadow. The waters surrounding me are also the current that binds me. I am trapped in this river, while the world beyond continues to change." You looked into the depths, where fish swam freely, and a solitary tear rolled down your cheek. "I cannot accompany you to the battlefields, nor to the kingdoms that need courage."

Damian stepped forward, the desire to comfort you burning in his heart. "I do not fear the battles, but I would fear losing you. You are the light that illuminates my path in the depths of the river," he said, his eyes shining with determination. "Whatever the storm, I will always be here, waiting for you."

The connection between you solidified, like intertwined roots beneath the river's waters, but melancholy hung over you like a dark cloud. Damian knew that his role as prince called him away, and the thought of leaving You filled him with profound sadness.

"One day, the current may carry me far away," you murmured, your voice tinged with hope and pain. "And I will be but a legend told on moonlit nights."

"But I promise," Damian replied, his voice as firm as steel, "that until my last breath, I will fight to bring you into the light, wherever the currents may lead you. Your love gives me strength, and I will not let your melancholy become an echo lost in the shadows."

And so, with the sun setting on the horizon and the last rays of light tinting the sky golden, the waters continued to flow, eternal and pure, guarding the secrets of a love stronger than time and deeper than the seas. Yet in your hearts, longing already nestled, a gentle melody of hope and pain, intertwined in the waves of fate.

[liveyun]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ; TEASER

pairing. kim taehyung x female oc/reader

genre. fantasy carnival AU, smut in the full fic

rating. 18+

warnings for the teaser. NSFW , ‘ tarot card readings which are totally made up by me, and the possibilities are probably inaccurate , tae gets an er3ction (1) , he's confused

word count. 727 (12-13k for the full fic)

est. release date : mid-february(?)

main masterlist

The shadows surrender to reveal the deck of cards beneath the flickering glow of a dying candle.

A soft sigh escapes his lips.

It wasn't uncommon for Taehyung to feel an initiative connection towards the deck he handles, or organizes, but what makes him intensely inquisitive is that once again, he feels the meticulous change about his surroundings. The sudden rise in temperature causes perspiration to gather around his temple, his throat cracking up with thirst, brain clogging up with an exhilarating energy which renders his mind empty.

The deck of cards resonate around his nimble fingers, and the glow of his jacquard fabric on his shawl glimmering a brilliant shine in his dim chamber. Taehyung’s hazel eyes concentrate on the message which they are trying to communicate; but something tells him that they're not messages, but rather, a signal. For him, to him.

Initially confused, he's not unfamiliar to any of the emotions he's going through, though. If anything, his heart palpitations grow as each whisper grows deeper in the depths of the night, and the stirring of his cock within his robes tells him that the message is solely for him; something which is a cue to be the querent.

With an anxious heart and an innate desire to understand what's the interpretation, he's quite relieved that the Arcana still resonates through their apprentices.

Lust.

His usually cold and eerily quiet chamber now tingles with the melody of the herb bottles crinkling against each other, notifying him of a possible augury. Whether it was a good one, or a bad one, was totally now upto what his fate had in for him.

His mind drifts over to the time when he used to work for his Master, and how his master especially warned him of the introspection sometimes the existential wisdom can lead him through the magical realm. A longing press vibrates against his chest at the remainder, something he admittedly made himself forget. A deep yearn for something, something.

Melancholy.

Shifting uncomfortably in his mat, Taehyung spreads out the deck of cards grasped within his hands on the table, each one carrying the weight of a story yet to unfold. His pupils dilate, threatening to shallow the thin, tawny ring surrounding them as his own energy intertwined with the symbolism of the cards, something Taehyung knew was necessary for proper response.

His hands, shuffling down the two decks to feel which card, frenzied their energies to reach out to him; his calculating gaze locked with the cards spread out and the energy between them pulsed with intensity. It was a representation of the unseen forces at play—a dance of hearts, an exploration of desire, suppression of feelings and congested desires.

His eyes widen when his brain tries to examine the possibility of two voices together in the realm; and when his hands sort out the two cards together to place them on the velvety rug, his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, hiding underneath the black shawl he draped himself in.

The bubbling confusion dies in this throat. Impossible.

The Lovers card, now revealed, depicted two figures entwined in a dance; and right beside it stays the Five of Cups, unveiled in its melancholic vicinity, portrayed a solitary figure standing amidst spilled cups.

His palms feel sweaty by the time his lips part to withdraw an exasperated sigh, equally puzzled and frustrated about the peculiar and out of the box combination; but his heart throbbed at the confirmation of what he had surmised already.

So did his cock.

Even in the realms of clandestine destiny, there was no answer to which face of the conjuncture was for him— he wasn't bothered about any, but he was for the fact that the realm chose him. Arcana chose this odd combination for him. Ever since he's been told to never ever doubt Arcana and Their choices, Taehyung couldn't help but feel uncanny when he felt the tapestry of emotions inside him swirl like crazy— melancholy poking his heart with a potential to Destroy—and his body burning with the ache to touch himself, to please himself.

Yet none exceeded the excitement he felt at that moment, the dim illumination of the chamber making the glimmer of his eyes stand out with a grin stretched on his ridiculously pretty face.

Afterall, he was chosen for the fortune hour.

a/n : this idea of fortune reader!tae has been on my mind rent free ever since the season greetings 2022 has been out 😫 though this genre is totally new and difficult for me to write, i’ve had fun writing it so far! i’m currently at 7k words and wanted to share it with readers to know your opinion.

hence, feedbacks are very much appreciated !

i’ve made an anonymous feedback box for all those readers who don't want to interact openly. it's just a feedback box, not even e-mail is collected, so please go ahead and consider dropping in a feedback if possible :-) i’ve been feeling burnt out since a long time and your feedback would mean a lot to me.

are you intrested to read the full fic/to be included in the taglist ? fill out this form ! thank you 💜🎀

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[peiskos-and-apricity]

My Oath to You

Týr x (GN)Reader

Summary - Týr has returned to you after more than a century of absence. Completely overwhelmed by his sudden appearance you can't bring yourself to believe that your long lost lover has finally come home.

Word count - 1.7k

Masterlist

Years. Years you had spent apart. Without him your days bled together, your nights full of restless heartache. By the second decade you had believed him truly gone; his comforting care ripped from your hands. You had mourned him, had buried him in the permanent scar he left behind. He had become an old melancholy memory.

And yet now, impossibly, you stand before him. His soft features are as still as your own, his warm eyes staring into your very being. You would have thought him a ghost, a mere apparition had he not held the arrow that had missed the mark of his chest by a nails edge. An arrow that left your fingers out of rage at the being who claimed to be your long-lost love. At an imposter.

The only thing that had cut through your rage long enough to stop your assault was the shining ring on his hand. A vow you had given, a promise, a shining beacon of what was supposed to be forever. You held your bow strong, but you were simply too blinded by that small binding sheen of what you had lost so long ago.

Silence, a painful, heart-wrenching silence. One that, through a tightened throat and weary hope, you spoke through.

"Do not..." You start, your voice shaking at just the sight of someone who would dare tell you that he wasn't gone.

"Do not lie to me" your anger bleeds into every word, but the slight shake of your hands shows your fragile state. Your face contorts into an ugly mix of fury-filled pain.

"My word is truth. I vowed no man nor God, no cage nor world would keep me from you. I would sooner have my spirit broken than that promise" his voice is soft, so memorably soft, his eyes showing a care you missed oh so dearly. When you didn't move he approached again, this time slowly, carefully, as if each step were a promise of its own.

And yet still you held strong. Even as tears well in your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow you do not dare let down your guard. You didn't turn from him, not for a second. You simply felt your chest tighten further, your mind screaming to let go, to kill the being who would do something as cruel as speaking the promises he knew naught of.

"My guiding star, I cannot bear any more distance. I have spent countless cold nights aching for the warmth of you" his sweet words are a lull against the grating yell of your own mind. Despite how much you try to block out the sound it effortlessly digs into you, plucking at the dusted strings of your heart in a melody only he ever knew. You knew you should pull away, that you should question this impossible situation further, but you can't seem to find the will to move from him.

Once he is in an arm's reach he slowly pushes the bow down, moving its arrow away from him like there was never a threat to his life. You didn't protest the movement, you couldn't bear to. Instead you turned away, your eyes shutting as tears fell from them, unable to look at this torturous apparition any further. Your grip finally loosened on the string.

"Please, don't turn from me" he pleaded as the warmth of his hand met your own, the bow falling to the ground. You tense at the touch, still unable to believe such a thing. But it isn't long before the warmth of him is far too tempting. Your hand grips his tighter, half expecting nothing to be there but feeling a surge of emotion when there is.

"You're...You're a liar" you spit through grated teeth and choked back sobs.

"You aren't- he's..." You try to lash out, try to fight against this horrible lie. But gods forgive you, there is no part of you that can bear to pull away.

"You're not real" you whispered the painful words in a weakening tone as you felt his presence step closer, only inches from you now. 

"I am, my love...I am" he whispers back, your hand squeezing tighter as you try to hold the pieces of yourself together. Ever so gently he lays his head against yours, a shaky breath leaving him.

For a moment there is silence. One so quiet you could practically hear your strength cracking into pieces. A silence so painful that you can only bear to be in it so long as you hear his thumping heart and shallow breath.

"Words fail me. I cannot begin to tell you the ways I have missed you" his words strike through your being in a flash of bittersweet. He was nothing if not a man of many beautiful words and it was a rare day when he didn't have a poet's tongue. But his voice breaks and his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. A pleading is found in how desperately he clings. 

"You haven't a clue" you choke out, no longer able to hold your front of fury.

"I have mourned you. You were dead to the world. Dead to me" you speak through the threat of sobs in your throat. He pulls away ever so slightly, an absence you feel so deeply that you must restrain yourself from diving back into his hold. But he seems to do that for you when he takes both hands to either side of your face. He wipes the tears that fall like rivers from you and you notice then that his own rivers fall as well. But even through the clear pain of so many years apart, he still looks at you like he would steal the sun just to keep you warm. And you knew, deep down in that part of your soul you had spent so many years trying to carve out, that it would only take the slightest shiver from you for him to consider it.

"I might not know what it is to mourn your loss, but I have mourned the pain of the lifetime I couldn't share with you. I have spent each day yearning for nothing else and knowing you were just beyond my grasp" as he gazes into your eyes you can see the saddened smile that meets his lips. How sweet his smile always was. No matter through tears or tough times, his smile always found a way to calm you. Which is why it hurts so much when it slowly falls from his lips, his eyes shut as a labored breath leaves him.

"Please...speak to me. Say whatever you will but I simply cannot stand the silence" his voice is quiet, his words a pleading request. With a deep breath you soon hold the hands he held you with, fingers stroking scars you didn't recognize.

"I..." You lose the words you wished to say just as quickly as you had thought to say them. You had spent so long wishing for him back, pleading that he might still somehow come home. You would have hung every star in the sky if it meant you would be able to hold him for just one more night. But now that you're here, faced with the reality that you had begged for a love you never lost, you could really only find one thing to say.

"I love you" the words fall with practiced ease. There is not a being strong enough to ever rip away the effortlessness with which you found your care for him.

"I have loved you for as many flakes of snow have fallen in your absence. I have loved you for as many nights as I have wished on flickering stars for you back. I have loved you, I have loved you, I have-" you are hardly surprised when his lips suddenly meet your own, however you couldn't have predicted just how overwhelming the action would be. Lips moved in ways so intimately familiar to the both of you. Hands gripped tighter as if the dream might end should you let go, the salty taste of tears is ignored by the both of you. The two of you moved as if to make up for the more than a century of lost affection, slow and gentle and desperate, a silent cry to be so close you become one.

And, ever so slowly and with a hesitance the two of you rarely ever knew, your lips parted. His breath softly fell on your face, a closeness you had longed for so many nights to feel again. His head gently rested upon yours once more and you could only hope to never feel his absence ever again.

"Would you...promise me something?" Your voice is still so quiet, too afraid that any sudden noise would break this tentative peace.

"Anything" he answers back. You can't help the warmth that falls at just how quickly he answers.

"Promise me that I will never lose you again" your words are as soft as the first time you had ever asked such a thing of him. The short silence that follows hurts you a little, your worry mounting in it.

"We both know that is a vow I cannot make" his words are familiar, a horrible reality that he never allowed you to forget. It only ever made you hold on tighter to him.

"But," he continues. One of his hands reaches to your own before carefully pulling it to his lips and kissing the jeweled ring you would never dare to lose. One he had traveled many strange worlds to make for you.

"With every ounce of strength I still hold I will not stop fighting for every fleeting moment we have. That is what I can promise" his words, as bittersweet as they are, do comfort you. They are reminiscent of a vow made so many lifetimes ago. One that he would repeat to the end of time itself. You gently take his hand as well, your lips meeting the gold band that binds him to you.

"Then that is the promise I will hold us to"

[grishamanimationstudios102]

Emo Smurf is back! He is ready with his new hit album of emotional songs based on his feelings about the season of autumn; he poses for the photographers taking pictures of him and makes an announcement regarding his album, on stage with a ribbon mic.

—-

Here’s a list of 10 music tracks for *Emo Smurf's Fall Songs*:

1. **"Falling Leaves, Falling Tears"**

A heartfelt track about the changing seasons and emotional vulnerability.

2. **"Blue Hearts and Grey Skies"**

A melancholy ballad with Emo Smurf expressing feelings of isolation and sadness.

3. **"The Smurf You Never Knew"**

A song about self-reflection and not being understood by others, with raw vocals and acoustic guitar.

4. **"Autumn's Last Goodbye"**

A slow, bittersweet farewell to a fading relationship, set against the backdrop of autumn.

5. **"Wishing on Wilted Flowers"**

An emotional anthem of lost hope and longing, filled with rich guitar melodies.

6. **"Beneath the Crimson Tree"**

A poetic tune about seeking solace in nature, with haunting lyrics and a soft, somber sound.

7. **"Echoes in the Wind"**

A reflective track about memories and regrets, driven by gentle guitar strumming.

8. **"Smurfing in the Shadows"**

A darker, more intense song with Emo Smurf baring his soul about inner turmoil and loneliness.

9. **"When the Sun Stops Shining"**

A deep, introspective track about emotional numbness and the feeling of being stuck in life.

10. **"A November Dream"**

A dreamy, slow-paced song with melancholic lyrics, symbolizing the end of a season and the fleeting nature of happiness.

—

The Smurfs © Peyo/Lafig Belgium, S.A.

[mistresslrigtar]

Chapter Ten: Melody - (written for @zelinktines24 day 10 prompt)

Read below or HERE

Link’s heart pounds as he races through the house looking for Zelda. The visit with Robbie and Jerrin and her subsequent breakdown has exhausted her, and Link had been hesitant to leave her that morning. However, they needed supplies and she insisted she’d be fine for the few hours he’d be gone in Tarrey Town.

His panic rises to epic levels as he calls her name and checks the last room, only to find it empty. Sprinting downstairs, he rushes outside, hands in his hair, and turns in a slow circle wondering where she could have gone. He forces himself to scan the sky above, but it’s thankfully clear of any celestial body, clouds, dragons, or otherwise. Grantéson’s voice cuts through Link’s whirling thoughts, informing him he saw Zelda heading up the path toward the Rasitakiwak Shrine not long ago.

Link shouts a harried thanks as he runs up the hill to the shrine that overlooks the house. He cleared out the constructs long ago, but he hurries all the same. His body vibrates with tension as the elevator descends at what feels like an agonizingly slow pace. Jumping off the platform before it completely settles, Link moves into the dimly lit, cavernous space.

After the machinery’s rumble ceases Link can hear a faint melody echoing through the large hall. That’s new, or he never noticed it before. Once his eyes adjust he follows the sound of the music, looking around pillars and in the darkened corners of the room as he progresses.

Approaching the doorway that leads to the cella, relief floods through Link when he sees Zelda standing in front of Rauru and Sonia’s statues. Her hands are clasped at her breast and she softly sings. Link strains to make out the words, but it sounds like she’s singing in an ancient Hylian dialect. Mesmerized, he pauses at the threshold to observe. As she sings, her hands begin to glow and she opens them, revealing her secret stone.

Link’s heart seizes in his chest, as he holds back a gasp. How can she be so calmly holding it? Doesn’t she remember the physical pain it caused her and the mental anguish him? It takes all his willpower not to charge to the altar, knock the cursed stone from her hands and smash it to smithereens with his sword.

Instead, he clenches his fists and tries to even out his ragged breath while Zelda continues to weave a sorrowful melody that floats in the air around them. The golden light she holds pulses in time, casting eerie shadows over Rauru and Sonia’s stony visages as she draws to a close.

When the last of her echoing voice dissipates and the glow fades from her fingers, Link straightens up and steps inside. His voice comes out in a trembling rasp when he speaks. “Why do you have your stone?”

“Oh!” Zelda startles, eyes darting to the side when she turns and sees him. Her cheeks redden, but she quickly regains her composure, and clasps her hands in front of her, hiding the stone from sight. “I thought maybe if I came here… with the stone, I’d feel their presence. But, I suppose they’re truly gone.”

Sighing, she pockets the wretched stone as she approaches Link, and holds out her hand. He hesitates, wanting to pursue her reasoning behind using the stone. Despite her melancholy, she seems content. He’ll ruin the moment if he voices his misgivings. Link shoves his trepidation to the side and focuses on trying to enjoy the time with her he’s been given.

Hoping she won’t feel how much he’s shaking, he takes her hand and leads her out into the large antechamber, leaving the ghosts of the past behind them.

Zelda looks over with worry in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He nods, looking into her emerald green eyes, shining with unshed tears for her long-lost mentors. Link longs to kiss away all the pain and remind her of what they once had.

Zelda must sense the direction his thoughts have taken, since her flush deepens and she ducks her head, twisting away to gaze at the ceiling. “What was the puzzle in this one?”

Link’s disappointment is tangible, but maybe he deserves to feel this way. He can’t help thinking if only he’d been better, stronger, none of this would have happened. He’s to blame for her being lost, and forced to swallow the stone.

“Running over constructs with a concrete slab and shooting them with a cannon.” Link points where the vehicle he’d modified still rests against the wall. She used to love studying the Sheikah technology and had come more alive helping Robbie. If she wasn’t ready for a kiss, perhaps… “Want to see if it still works before we go?”

“Of course! I imagine you enjoyed that immensely.” Zelda releases his hand to pull her journal from her pocket. “Mind if I take notes?”

“How are you going to do that if you’re steering?” The way her eyes light up makes up for his fear, her distance, and is the best reward Link’s ever received inside a shrine.

Many thanks to @floraunderground for betaing this!!!

[lthienofdorthonion]

Through My Window

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, inspired by the Harry Potter universe and the characters I love so much. I am not trying, under any circumstances, to take authorship of J.K. Rowling's original work. All rights belong to the creator of this incredible saga.

Chapter I: Secrets

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of the room, shining with an intensity that seemed to illuminate every corner, while birds sang cheerful melodies outside. Yet, for Hermione, that sunny day only deepened her melancholy. Reclining on her purple bed, surrounded by books and notes, she tried to read, but the words dissolved into meaningless murmurs in her mind.

Frustrated, her gaze wandered around the room as if searching for answers among the objects that surrounded her. Eventually, it settled on one of her Hogwarts books, her heart weighed down by memories she could not escape. With a sudden motion, she grabbed it and hurled it toward the wardrobe, feeling a mix of anger and sorrow. She sank back onto the bed, her pulse racing, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

Looking out the window, her heart felt heavy with nostalgia. Painful memories overwhelmed her, shadows of a past that refused to fade. Each image was an echo in her mind—a flash of laughter, arguments, and farewells that pulled her into an abyss of sadness. A tear slid slowly down her cheek, then another, and another, until her pillow became a refuge for her grief.

The door opened softly, and her mother, a warm presence with chestnut hair, stepped into the room. Concern was etched into her expression.

—Hermione, are you all right? Why are you crying?— she asked gently, her voice almost fearful.

Hermione quickly wiped her tears away, as if trying to erase the sadness before her mother could see it.

—I’m fine,— she said, though the words came out a bit too quickly. She forced a smile that was almost convincing, but her eyes betrayed her, flickering with uncertainty.

Her mother, unconvinced, sat down beside her and studied her intently, trying to unravel the truth.

—You know you can tell me anything,— she said tenderly.

Hermione averted her gaze, afraid that if she met her mother’s eyes, she would crumble, and she couldn’t allow that.

—It’s nothing, Mum, really. I’m fine, honestly,— she said quickly, though her voice trembled slightly. She lowered her head, pulling the covers up to her chin, and let her thoughts drift, heavy and silent, as she sank back into the solitude of her mind.

Despite her concern, her mother left the room to give her space. Hermione wasn’t usually like this; she was known for her warmth and joy. But for a while now, her mother had noticed a shadow in her daughter’s eyes, a distant quality as if part of her weren’t really there. At first, she dismissed it, convincing herself it was her imagination. “She’ll be fine,” she’d think. But it kept happening, growing more constant until it could no longer be ignored. She didn’t want to admit it, but seeing Hermione this way confirmed her fears. Still, she knew pressing her daughter wouldn’t help. Whatever weighed on Hermione’s heart was tied to the magical world, and she had explicitly asked them not to discuss it after her final year at Hogwarts. Whatever had happened during those seven years had changed her deeply. Closing the door quietly, her mother left her alone.

Outside, the sunlight dimmed as dark clouds gathered, and the birdsong gradually faded. Soon, raindrops began to fall, turning the bright day into one of gray melancholy.

Hermione watched the rain through the glass, her thoughts as heavy and dark as the sky collapsing around her. After the war, she had made a decision that surprised even those closest to her: she had distanced herself entirely from the magical world. To many, Voldemort’s defeat was a victory, but for Hermione, it marked the beginning of an endless internal struggle. The horrors she had witnessed, the lives lost, and the sacrifices made had left deep scars on her soul.

She couldn’t return to that world. She couldn’t face the halls of Hogwarts, now haunted by absences, or the familiar faces that reminded her of all she had lost. She couldn’t even see Harry or Ron. Harry and the others had tried to include her, but each meeting turned into a procession of memories that left her breathless. She avoided all contact, coming up with excuses to stay home.

But it wasn’t just the echoes of war that tormented her. There was a constant presence in her mind—a face that appeared with painful clarity, accompanied by emotions that overwhelmed her. Him. Every time she thought of him, her heart filled with a mix of longing and guilt. She remembered fleeting moments, whispered conversations, and stolen glances that felt like eternity.

She couldn’t face him—not after everything. She had tried to convince herself that her feelings didn’t matter, that they were a mistake, a passing illusion. But the emptiness she felt when she thought of him told her otherwise. He was someone who, by all logic, should never have mattered so much. Yet he was imprinted on every corner of her being.

Hermione sank into a darkness she didn’t know how to confront. The weight of everything she had experienced dragged her into a depression that felt unshakable. The nights were the worst: dreams filled with screams, flashes of green light, and familiar faces disappearing into nothingness. She would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart pounding wildly, trapped in terror as though she were back in the chaos.

The panic attacks came soon after. At first, they were brief flashes of anxiety she thought she could control. But they soon grew into debilitating episodes. She could be sitting at the dining table with her parents, trying to enjoy a family meal, when a sound, a word, or even the scent of a magical object would send her spiraling into sheer terror. The air would vanish, her vision would blur, and all she could do was shake and cry, consumed by an irrational but undeniable fear.

Her parents, worried but unsure how to help, did what they could: they offered her a safe haven. Hermione clung to the Muggle world, seeking solace in its simplicity. She returned to her childhood bedroom, covering every trace of magic with mundane objects, trying to erase any connection to the world she had left behind. She locked her wand away in a box, vowing never to use it again, and avoided any contact with her old friends.

—This is how it has to be, I know it,— she murmured to herself, her brow furrowed in frustration. —So why does it feel so wrong?—

She closed her eyes, trying to escape reality, but the images pursued her. Memories of defining moments, of a life that had worn her down, refused to let her go. She opened her eyes again, attempting to focus on her book, but exhaustion overwhelmed her. The tears from the previous nights had drained her. Finally, she closed the book and allowed herself to drift into a world of dreams where sadness couldn’t follow her.

But even in her sleep, the memories persisted—unyielding and painful, intertwining with her being. They were part of her now, indelible marks of a life she longed to leave behind, secrets that followed her like shadows in the night.

[rennnnsworld]

Just something I wrote | attack on Titan ~ Eren x reader

Fluffy, sad, -I'm just missing aot

.

.

.

The pale light of moon shine bright as if it were in a tranquil phase thanking the stars for accompanying her. My hands thread on his soft auburn hair yonderly. "Why do you love the stars so much?"

Eren's questioning voice out of my trance. I smiled at him. "They make me feel like I'm home,like I'm with you"said I. Soft shade of rosy pink spreads on his cheeks as he smiles back at me."They remind me of you", I whispered as I pull my gaze back towards the horizon full of glowing rocks of fire burning trillions of miles away.

All of a sudden, I hear his voice, humming a song I'm not familiar with. It sounds angelic, serene, like a lullaby. Times like these are the most treasured ones, when we're not haunted by the thoughts of future and what the outside world has in for us.I gazed down at his dreamy face, he had his eyes closed a soft smile spreading in his face, his pearly whites peeking through. "I can feel your eyes on me" he grinned,eyes still closed. "Keep singing" I urged him, eager to hear his melodious voice again. He smiles. A big smile, like that of a child being praised. He starts singing once more, this time more prominently. I kept my admiring eyes on him as I begin to question, how such a being,with wonderous flaws that glorify him is with me. A nobody.....well maybe a somebody. It never fails to make we ponder how such a divine being longs for my company, my affection, my love.

"what is that pretty little head of yours thinking?" He questions with a hint of playfulness evident in his tone. I feel my cheeks warm up with embarrassment. I glance back at the starry horizon. "Nothing", I smile pulls up at my lips.

He smiles again,but it's strange.

Something is wrong.

His emerald eyes are not glowing with love or affection as any other day, there's guilt and melancholy lingering in his glassy eyes.

"I hate to see you like this"

It didn't make sense. The words he uttered. The look on his face. It didn't make sense.

Many questions arise in my mind, reach my tongue but remained there, never coming out, making my skin crawl. I gazed into his eyes in search of something I myself didn't know. His eyes swirl with agony that clenched my heart tight and locks it in a cage

Something is wrong .

And not being able to know makes me squirm. Everything starts turning black,why is this happening?

I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I want to squirm and yell, I feel like I will explode any moment now."what's happening...?" I rasped out.I couldn't see anything but his face. He gave me a smile that was supposed to comfort me, but it only drove me over the edge.

"I'm always with you"

Everything went black.

It is silent and horrifying.

Gone.

I screamed and cried and yelled, for him to come back. Don't go. Come back.

My eyes jolt open.

.

.

.

.

This is part one! I'm not sure if you like it, I'm just a begginer, constructive criticism is always helpful! Comment if you'd like a part two of this

[whiskeysmulti]

Melancholy Melody (A KHR Drabble)

Word Count: 375 Character: Gokudera Hayato Summary: Gokudera hasn't touched a piano in years, but as the Right Hand, he can't defy an order from his boss even if it costs him a painful flashback.

A discarded piano sat in a room collecting dust, a single ray of sunlight shining in like a glimmer of hope in a dismal abyss. Long forgotten, not properly tuned, not cared for, just left to rot away when the musician moved on, blood stains still on the keys, dried after years of neglect.

Gokudera hadn't touched the damn thing since he'd lost his mother.

Scars adorned worn hands that had seen combat since his teen years. Hands that rarely reached out for comfort, hands that knew pain, that knew battle, but yet somehow held a delicate softness to them after years of hardship. These hands hadn't touched keys in years.

"Play for me."

He almost dropped the cigarette from his lips. It was an order he hadn't expected from his boss. Flashbacks flooded his mind and his chest tightened. Who knew a simple instrument could be such a triggering object?

"Juudaime…" His breath caught in his throat. Gokudera hadn't even realized Tsuna was in the room. An order was an order though, and no matter how badly he wanted to defy it, he couldn't, ever the loyal right hand he had to listen now.

A deep breath and he reached out, and those keys looked splattered in blood now, but he played on. Delicate strokes and the melody found him lost in deep thought as his hands moved at almost a robotic, memorized pace, brushing over keys like he'd been born to do this.

Something slow, something melancholy, it suited him and the memories rushing over him as he fought back tears for the past he could never return to.

He had his mother's eyes and silver hair and her skill with the piano, those were the only things left of Lavina's legacy now, the man standing before the piano, pouring his heart out, every keystroke another teardrop forming.

His private concerto finished and Gokudera couldn't find the nerve to look his boss in the eyes and simply turned away, shaking those memories from his mind, they'd haunt his dreams later anyhow. Just like the piano, he'd too one day be discarded and forgotten, a life easily thrown away in a single decision. Until then, he'd play on, a private concerto, his melancholy melody.

[jasmariswonderland]

Shining Hearts Chapter 17 ~ Hydrangea (FINAL CHAPTER)

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |

Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |  Chapter 9  | Chapter 10 |

Chapter 11 |  Chapter 12  |  Chapter 13  | Chapter 14  | Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter Summary:  “It was my flooding weakness that crushed you...shivering from the rain, plucked from the stem, I’ll continue to sing forever. So please continue to laugh for me. And promise you’ll never forgive what I’ve done...”

Word Count: 8525

A/N: If you have continued to this point, thank you everyone for reading this. Please be sure to read my final notes at the end of this fic. The chapter summary are lyrics from the song “Hydrangea” by Kaya. The song can be found here and the lyrics can be found here. I feel the song is very fitting for the mood of this chapter, as well as Vil and Danica’s mutual feelings for each other at this point. 

~~~

Pomefiore Dorm ~ Danica’s Room 

As Danica pulled her body upwards to turn on the lamp, she expected to feel as though she had sandbags strapped to her shoulders. Such was the heaviness in her heart as she finally managed to fall asleep earlier that evening, and she expected to carry over as she finally awoke. But strangely enough, she felt none of that as she stretched out in the bed and picked up her phone again. She stared at it in curious silence before deciding to ignore Iman’s text for the time being. It had been sent two hours ago and considering Iman had made no other attempt to reach out to her, Danica figured it couldn’t be too serious. 

In truth, she wanted to ignore VDC related matters for as long as she could; waking up, Danica felt almost normal for the first time in hours. Though normal might not be the best word to describe what she felt. In truth, Danica felt empty but figured that was still worlds better than slowly dying inside.

Despite Iman’s warning, Danica subconsciously went to magicam, half out of curiosity and half out of a need to distract herself until she fell back to sleep. Immediately she knew she should have known better because as she scrolled the countless posts, the hot topic on the app was, of course, the VDC. Danica scrolled through several videos of the performances, posts of people either approving of or berating the final result of the votes, and quite a few still photos that appeared to be taken by the press. 

One post she noticed right away was from the magicam profile for the major entertainment news station in Shaftlands, it was of three pictures taken during rehearsal, pictures of her and Vil. The first was taken when Vil took her hands and kissed them in the middle of the stage, the second was during their interview and the third was of Danica after she accepted her VDC trophy, with Vil watching her in the background looking incredibly happy. The post headline told her all she needed to know, a sharp feeling seizing her stomach:

Romance On The VDC Stage: Vil Schoenheit’s Absolutely Beautiful New Love Interest? 

Under the headline was a rundown of the VDC. How Vil had once again lost out to Neige Leblanche but might have won something far better in the form of a speculated new love interest. Followed by a brief profile of Danica based on some public knowledge either from school records or about her family.

While Mr Scheonheit declined to comment on the nature of his relationship with Miss Ledelle, it’s evident from all who watched them that sparks were flying! What do you think? Will these two be Pyroxene’s hot new celebrity couple?

“Hmph, she may look sweet but not with the way she was moving on stage!” 

“Of course such a sultry creature caught Vil’s eye!”

“Did you see their performance, how they were dressed? THAT’S how she seduced Vil! Little vamp!” 

“So she was just pretending to act shy and cute? Typical! Good girls don’t attract bad boys like Vil Schoenheit!” 

Danica shook her head as she read a few of the comments, many of them disparaging against her. She knew many of these people probably adored seeing her with Vil prior to the VDC, more attached to the image she presented than herself. And she found it rather ironic, too ironic to be too upset. At her core, Danica was still very much the same person she always was, shy, pensive and introverted when not on stage. She might have gained some confidence through this whole ordeal, but the only thing she felt really changed was her fear of judgment that was slowly fading. 

And because of it, she finally had the courage to perform in the way she always secretly wanted to. And the audience had responded to her confidence in turn, allowing her and her black swans to win. While these comments hurt, Danica was more annoyed than anything. Annoyed by the hypocrisy, annoyed by the presumptions and, more than anything, annoyed by the whole double standards that resented her in the first place. But she could no longer afford to be bothered. Not after she had persevered and dealt with so much to finally be in this place mentally. 

No one is taking my power away again…

She tapped away from the post and continued scrolling,  she saw that Ione had spent some time with Crisanta, Ayse and Isabel after the VDC, smiling at the selfie they took together. She also smiled at a picture of Farron and Andrew, and giggled at some of the incensed comments from NRC mutuals, shocked to see him fraternizing with an RSA student. Unfortunately, the next post she saw was from Neige, of him and Lilianne together on their ice cream date. He certainly wasted no time pressing her to keep her end of their bargain and Danica shook her head again. Lilianne’s expression was extremely subdued though Neige appeared very happy, and likely completely oblivious to the discomfort his date was feeling. Who ate ice cream outside in late winter anyway? The next post Danica scrolled on was another from Neige but she immediately tapped out of it, seeing just enough to see that it was a picture of him and Vil. She scoffed under her breath. 

I really should just block you already. Unlike Vil, there’s no need for me to keep up the pretense of liking you when you’ve nothing but made my and my friends’ lives difficult.

And just as she was about to do that, Danica’s phone chimed, indicating a new email coming in. She tapped on it and saw it was a message from her mother, it was a long message but even from looking at it for only a moment, she could tell it was just another long lecture. Most likely she was expressing disapproval of Danica’s VDC performance, she was never very keen on her daughter’s pursuits outside of ballet. Her eyes scanned it, mentally beginning to form her defense when she replied to it a few hours later when she’d be in a better state of mind. That’s when she inevitably came across one sentence in particular. 

“When I think about where Fiona was at your age, I can’t help but feel disappointed.”

Danica gripped her phone, she should have expected this much, but it still stung. In a fit of rage, she flung her phone across her bed, just as it was lighting up again with a new message. 

You’re just like the rest of them! I’m sorry I’m not like Fiona! I’m sorry I couldn't be a perfect swan like her! 

She curled up into a ball, pressing her face to her legs as she exhaled loudly. Clearly going to Magicam was a mistake. Her phone continued to light up from across the bed and when she finally picked it up again, she saw that it wasn’t her mother this time, but another message from Iman.

“Hey, Missy! Are you awake? Taima and I really would like to talk if you don’t mind.”

Danica sighed, but decided that this time she would respond. 

“Hey, I just woke up. I passed out soon after coming back to Pomefiore. What’s up? Can we video chat?”

At once, Danica’s phone lit up once again with an incoming facetime request from Iman. She tapped on it and Iman immediately added Taima to their call. 

“Heeeeyyyy, Dani!” Taima smiled. “How are you? We were getting a little worried.”

“I…I’m alright, I guess,” replied Danica. “I’m…surprised to see you two talking to each other, let alone with me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Iman asked. 

“It’s just that, the VDC is over. We won, but now that's over, you two don’t have to be around each other as much now. I know you two don’t exactly get along.”

“That’s true, we don’t see eye to eye most of the time. But Taima has impressed me and I don’t mind working with her in the future if she continues becoming more talented and mature.”

“Hmph, well I don’t mind working with Iman either,” Taima smirked. “If she continues working on her attitude!” 

“The future?” Danica perked up. “So…we’re definitely creating a permanent unit? I know we talked about it casually but…”

“I definitely want to!” Taima jumped up and down in place. “It can be a continuation of our idol club at TGA! Mimi might not be with us but we can hold auditions for more members and really try out a wide range of new music!”

“AND we can win at the VDC again next year!” Iman added with a sly grin. “I overheard one of the visiting teachers say next year’s culture fest will be at RSA! Imagine defeating them on their own turf!” 

“Doesn’t that sound like an awesome idea, Dani?”

“Y…yeah, it does…” Danica responded, clearly hearing them but finding it hard to really listen. Iman noticed her dejected expression and asked if she was alright. To which she responded, “Forgive me if I seem out of it, like I said I just woke up and I’m still trying to process all that happened today.”

“I get that, speaking of which, I hope you weren’t looking at Magicam recently. Remember I texted you about that earlier?”

“Yeah, I got that message,” Danica sighed. “I did look because I had a few unread messages and tags to go through. I…saw a few upsetting things, but…”

“Ughhh, Danica!” Iman groaned. “I told you not to look!”

“No, no, I’m not upset! More annoyed than anything.”

“Well that’s good I guess,” Taima spoke up. “You really shouldn’t give them any of your attention either way. They’re just a bunch of nasty fucks anyway!”

“And such crude comments! Accusing us of using sex appeal to win the VDC. It’s ridiculous!” 

“Hmph! As if Neige didn’t do something similar with his whole stupid cutesy bullshit!” Danica scoffed, irritation suddenly waking her up. “At least we worked hard to get our performance perfect! 

“That’s the spirit!” Iman grinned. “We were worried about how you’d feel if you saw people slutshaming us. I had Vidi and Heloise report most of the people making these comments but they just keep coming!”

“Someone even made countdown clocks for you and Iman!”

“Countdown? For what?” Danica asked. 

“Counting down until we’re both eighteen and they can treat us like whores in good faith!” Iman rolled her eyes. “Pitiful street rats, the lot of them!

“Ugh! That’s just…ugh!!!” Danica wrapped her arms around herself, a sudden feeling of sickness mixed with rage coming over her. “AND THESE ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO WOULDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY IF WE STAYED A WHITE SWAN QUINTET! It’s so stupid! It’s so…”

“That better not be regret I’m hearing!” said Iman. “Especially when most of the feedback for us has been positive.”

“Regret? Please! I regret nothing!” Danica shook her head. “I’m past that! Now I’m just angry! Maybe some people did vote for us because they thought we were sexy, but so what? People voted for Neige because they thought he was adorable! Different concept but it’s still the same thing!”

“It’s NOT the same thing though, because our performance was still a thousand and one times better than Neige and his seven little clowns!” Taima replied. 

“But I’m glad to see that you are determined to be unbothered by the idiots,” a smile came to Iman’s face. “A week ago, you would be sobbing in your pillow.”

“Well unfortunately, I don’t have any more tears left to cry,” Danica said blankly. “You know my mom emailed me not too long before Iman texted me again. She compared me to Fiona AGAIN and said she was disappointed in me.”

“Oh Dani…” Taima sighed. “I’m…so sorry…”

“And between that and how Rook basically fucked over Vil and ghosted me in favor of Neige, today has been such an overwhelming day.”

“Well, maybe some good news will help you,” said Iman. “Taima and I spoke to Crowley after you left and guess what? He’s giving us the green light to start an idol club!”

“Oh! So it is official after all!” Danica managed a small smile. “That’s good to know!”

“Yeah, and we’ve already decided on when our next performance should be!” Taima added. “We thought a birthday live for Ione would be nice!”

“We know your birthday is technically before hers, but we’ll have more time to prepare for hers since her birthday isn’t until the end of May.”

“No, no that actually makes sense,” Danica’s smile became wider. “And I really would love to do something special for her since she stuck out with us until the end despite how hard it was.” 

“Exactly what we were thinking!” Iman smiled. “So try and think of the positives. We won the VDC, the first real victory against RSA in decades even if it’s only a half victory. And we’ll get the chance to be on stage together again soon.”

“And the festival is still going on so we’ll still have a chance to hang out with Lili and Mimi.”

Danica gazed at her phone and at her two teammates, she was certain that if not for their support, she would likely be in a much darker place now than she was. From the moment they came together weeks prior, Danica wondered why Vil had chosen these girls to perform beside her, now she understood. It was partly because of the support of the other black swans that Danica felt the courage to stand true to what she wanted, even when she experienced pushback from her dorm leaders or judgment from the world. 

Together, they were capable of amazing things and together, they would continue to hone their skills and grow together as performers. And as people. 

“I’d like that,” she finally said. “Thank you, guys.”

“Thank us? For what?” Taima asked curiously.

“Just…for being here for me, I admit I’m still a little sad, but talking to you two has been helpful. Maybe…I think I might be able to sleep peacefully now, I hope.”

“That makes me happy too!” Taima grinned. “I hate seeing you like that. Speaking of which, how has Vil-san taken all of this? He looked upset at the awards ceremony.”

“I’d be too if I just found out my second in command betrayed me!” Iman shook her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you guys have a new vice dorm leader soon!”

“I…don’t think that’s going to happen, he…” Danica sighed, recalling how Vil had addressed her earlier that evening, defending Rook while disparaging her in turn. The recollection of his words stung her and she momentarily went silent. “...Vil-san is…he…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Taima saw the downcast expression in her friend’s eyes. “We just hope you’re doing alright, Dani. Try to get some rest and we’ll chat later.”

“And if you don’t feel like sleeping, try to focus your mind on other things,” Iman added. “And please, PLEEEEASE! Don’t go doomscrolling on Magicam!” 

They hung up and Danica made a point of setting her phone back on its charger on her nightstand, out of reach so she hopefully wouldn’t feel the need to go back to magicam anytime soon. She stretched out on her bed but her eyes remained open, she glanced over at the nightstand and saw her music box, reaching out to wind it up. The soft, twinkling melody was a little soothing, but did little to lul her to sleep. 

I hate this! I feel so restless! 

Danica couldn’t sleep like this and after a few moments more, she conceded defeat and jumped out of bed. She took the time to finally remove her stage costume, having fallen asleep with it still on, and wipe away the last fragments of makeup off her face. Hopefully Vil wouldn’t find out she had fallen asleep this way. A gray, loose fitting nightdress was pulled over her head and she gave a relieved sigh at finally having something on that wasn’t so constricting. Walking around her empty room, Danica thought more about the events of that day and all that led up to everything. 

“Innocence is the absence of knowledge, and in your case, to remain innocent would be to remain ignorant of the incredible power you have as a performer.”

She understood now Vil’s concerns about her image, and after seeing how people treated him over Neige, she could see firsthand how his image affected him as well. She also thought about Sidonie’s words to her and how it was all finally connecting in her mind. Somehow, Danica felt herself placed in a narrow box, that box being the world's expectations for her. And she could see that Vil was in a similar box as well. 

I wonder…If I remained a white swan, would Vil have had a better chance at winning? Could his overblot could have been avoided if I…no…NO!

The more she thought about it, the more upset she became. At the end of the day, Danica knew what she wanted for herself and she felt it unfair that Vil was never given a chance to prove himself by more legitimate means. She knew she wasn’t responsible for what happened to Vil, but it upset her how blind everyone was to just how talented he was. That Neige’s act could even stand a chance against him in the first place. Why was it so difficult to acknowledge brilliance?

Everything he did, everything he said, he just wanted people to acknowledge him. I…I get that. Even if…

Danica couldn’t forgive how Vil had exposed her through the Magicam leak. After giving her the cursed chocolate, she was unsure how long it would take for her to trust him again. But after living a life always in the shadow of her sister, it was easy for her to sympathize with him. And even with this realization, there was still one thing Danica couldn’t help but wonder. 

This is too much, I need to focus on something until I feel sleepy again…

~~~

The entirety of Pomefiore was silent, most of its inhabitants sound asleep. Ballet shoes in hand, Danica quickly made her way towards the ballroom. This was something Vil would always scold her for, dancing alone in the ballroom after hours and forsaking proper sleep. But after all that had happened, Danica couldn't help but not really care whether Vil found out or not. 

There wouldn’t be classes tomorrow and she could sleep all she wanted later. But right now, this was the only way Danica could think of to make herself tired. She was already wide awake and felt that an hour honing her ballet skills wouldn’t make much difference. And dance was one of her few emotional outlets anyway.

Something was amiss, it was almost too quiet and Danica suddenly found herself paranoid. The sensation lingered on as she reached the door, along with a growing irritation. This feeling was not new to her and in the past, it often could only mean one thing. But rather than the nervous, giddy excitement of knowing someone she liked was watching her, she only felt disgusted. 

Even now, you still think you can play games with me! 

Clenching her teeth, she angrily turned around, only to be met with an empty hallway. There was no indication that she wasn’t alone and taking a few steps back, Danica took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Yes, she was alone, Rook was nowhere to be seen, and he surely wasn’t watching her again. With that in mind, she reached out to the door leading to the ballroom. She half expected it to be locked and quickly recalled the lock-breaking spell Sidonie had taught her. But when she began to pull at the door, it opened with ease.

“Mira, Mira…”

Her heart stopped, she wasn’t imagining it after all. There was someone in the ballroom, but it wasn’t Rook. 

How long had Vil been there? Danica recalled seeing Vil enter the ballroom soon after they returned that evening, she had wanted to talk to him then but Rook had stopped her. Now past midnight, she wondered if he ever left the ballroom to begin with. 

“Who is…most beautiful?” 

She stopped short of entering the ballroom, something sharp and heavy overtaking her chest. His voice was soft, but even in its softness carried so many emotions that spoke to all he had lost that day. He sounded so sad, so hurt, and thoroughly broken. Even whenever she watched Vil act on stage or on screen, she had never seen him display such emotions. It was crushing, the way he wept and whispered to his phone, hoping for even a scrap of proof that he wasn’t as horrific as he feared. 

“Mira, Mira, please…”

Please…don’t look at me…

Her heart dropped, recalling how he screamed and cried before being overtaken by his overblot. How he lamented his guilt at what he could have done, how he lamented his ugliness. All that made him horrific in comparison to Neige, and his sorrow when Rook only confirmed it with his vote. 

DON’T LOOK AT ME WITH THOSE EYES! 

“You won the VDC with your seductive wiles and became the black swan you always wanted to be!”

Why?! All I wanted was to be the fairest one of all. So why…why am I so…

“What? Do you honestly think people voted for you because of your talent and skill? Spare me!”

…ugly? UGLY?! WHY AM I SO UGLY?!

With so much guilt in his heart, Vil couldn’t possibly say all the cruel things he said to her in good conscience. Danica knew this, and hearing his heartbreak from behind the ballroom door was far more painful than anything he could say to her then or even now. It was clear Vil had been holding back these tears for a long time, that he managed not to break down on the VDC stage was a miracle in and of itself. 

All of his hopes, all of his insecurities, trapped in a cruel dichotomy that left Vil cursed before he even had the chance to prove himself. And his one hope that maybe he could finally break out of his villainous mold, dashed by Neige’s foolishness and Rook’s apathy. The longer Danica stood behind the door, listening to his sobs and peas, the worse her heart felt. And the more she began to realize that she and Vil were far more alike than she ever would have guessed. 

But regardless of that realization there was still one final thing Danica couldn’t help but wonder. 

“You don’t think it’s odd that I’m developing feelings for two people at the same time?”

“Not really…at some point, one of them will stand out more in your heart and your feelings for the other will eventually fade. So I wouldn’t worry.”

The softness of his weeping was suddenly cut through by a loud, impassioned scream, followed by the sound of something shattering. Terrified, Danica recalled Vil’s overblot and immediately feared the worst. She didn’t care if Vil was likely to scold her again or even that she might come across something that she wasn’t equipped to handle on her own. 

All that mattered to her at that moment was going to him, and if need be, pulling him back from his sorrow once again, before it was too late. 

~~~

Pomefiore Dorm ~ Ballroom 

Moonlight poured in through the large windows and in the far corner of the room sat a figure curled up and shaking, not yet aware that he was no longer alone. Softly, Danica stepped lightly towards him, her eyes not leaving him for even a second. In the moonlight, she could see his bright blonde hair as his face was buried into his knees and not visible to her. Silently, she thanked the Great Seven that Vil’s sorrow hadn’t overwhelmed him a second time and he was still here. 

But actually seeing Vil in this state was far more heartbreaking than just hearing him from behind the door. Danica was unsure what she wanted to say to him, or even if anything she said could make a difference at this point. But she knew that she would not have any rest that night until she knew for certain that Vil would be alright.

CRACK!

Razor sharp pain shot up the ball of her bare foot and she let out a small cry as she grabbed her foot in reflex. Even with little light, she could see a large piece of glass now stuck in her foot, stained bright red. Another small whimper escaped her as she squeezed her eyes shut and slowly pulled the piece of glass out of her flesh, holding it in her palm and wondering where it came from. Danica received her answer when she finally looked down and saw Vil’s phone laying shattered beneath her.  

She picked it up very carefully and could see that it was still functional and when the screen with alight, she inwardly recoiled at what she saw. It was a Magicam post from Neige, the very same one she had clicked away from earlier when she was scrolling the app. A photo that Neige all but begged Vil to pose for after they had finished singing. They were smiling together and from the looks of it, one would never guess how painful it was for Vil to pose for it in the first place. Only agreeing as a matter of professionalism. Refusing would only confirm the worst for those eager to see him as the villain they already assumed him to be. Regardless of what the truth was, Vil still had to preserve whatever dignity he could. 

neige.leblanche posted: RSA BEAT VI-KUN!!! And he was so cool about it! ❤️

realscheonheit commented: I hate you 🙃

neige.leblanche replied: I love you too! Hope we can see each other again soon! Dani too! ❤️❤️❤️

R commented: BEAUTE! 100!!

This post had been made less than an hour ago and the people who resented Vil were likely eating this all up. Danica clenched her teeth, not just from the pain in her foot but also from the sheer audacity of it all. Neige really was clueless to post this after seeing how much losing affected Vil. And Rook was beyond tactless to comment as well. The shattered glass prickled at her palm but as she wondered what to do with the phone, she heard Vil’s cracked voice, calling out to her. 

To say Vil was surprised to see Danica would be an understatement, certain she wouldn’t emerge from her room until dawn at least. Secretly, a part of him was glad to have her there, but that happiness quickly vanished as the seconds passed and she came closer to him. Seeing her eyes upon him like this, crumbled on the floor, weeping and pathetic, was the height of humiliation for him. Whatever had happened between them, as her dorm leader, Vil was supposed to set an example for her. 

He had to be a model of integrity and poise and yet here he was crying and going on like a child because he had lost a contest that he didn’t even deserve to win. But that wasn’t even the worst part; twenty four hours ago, they were still at Ramshackle. Vil watched Danica sleep peacefully beside her teammates, his mind still full of all the possibilities that VDC victory would open up for both of them. They would gradually reconcile and rekindle their feelings for each other and soon enough, all kinds of opportunities and offers would pour in for him. 

The world would fall in love with his perfect swan and would adore him in turn when they saw just how perfect they were together. Vil even, briefly, entertained the fantasy of he and Danica staring together in a future film where he would undoubtedly play the hero to her romantic heroine. Falling in love both on screen and off in a way not unlike how his own parents fell in love while filming Curse of the Winter Rose. So many wonderful, beautiful things to look forward to, only to now look back on losses and all that could have been if he could only seize being so ugly and cruel. 

But Vil should have known better, his hopes and dreams were the thing of fairy tales and never meant for a villain like him. Instead of showing the world his beauty, he was still second best to Neige Leblanche, reminded once again of his place as a bad guy unworthy of a happy ending. And if that wasn’t bad enough, in his ugliness and rage, Vil had nearly cost Danica her life, destroying the most beautiful thing in his world. 

“Ah Roi du Poison, I understand your ire at Danica, but the way you spoke to her, that was quite harsh. But I suppose I should not be surprised, your harshness towards her was very in character for you. After all, every rose has thorns. Even the fairest ones of all.”

That Danica was still able to look at him kindly was beyond baffling. But surely, after all he said to her earlier, his ugliness would finally drive her away from him. It was just as Rook said, his harsh words were very in character for him. It was all he was capable of and Danica did not deserve that. She deserved someone like Neige, kind and pure who would never hurt her, not someone who flung cruel words at her and went behind her back. Someone who was still deserving of having a happily ever after.

“What are you doing here?!” Vil asked, his voice shaky but quickly trying to regain its usual icy, stately cadence. “Do you have any idea how late it is?! What are you doing up at this hour?!”

“I…I could ask the same to you, Vil-san…” Danica softly replied, still glancing down at her feet to avoid the broken glass. “What are you doing up at this hour yourself?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me! That’s a bad habit you've picked up from your mentor!” 

“I’m NOT trying to be cheeky!” Danica felt her voice breaking but she quickly bit the inside of her lip. “I thought I heard something in here and I…I…” she sighed. “Vil-san…please. Can we just talk? Won’t you let me…”

“Get out!” Vil sharply pointed to the door. “There’s nothing to discuss! Go back to bed now!” 

“I won’t!” Danica took a few steps forward. “I’m not leaving! Not until you talk to me! I don’t believe you want me to leave, so won’t you please stop pushing me away? What have I done?!” 

“I gave you an order and yet you’re still running your mouth!” Vil tried to glare at her. But his mind was tired and his body still aching from the after effects of his overblot. His face did not give off the intimidation that he intended, but he hoped his words would. “Don’t make me ask you again! Get! Out!”

“Vil-san…” 

Glancing up at Vil, she could see anger that would normally make her tremble away from him. He really was an incredible actor, she thought. Even now she wondered if she was being incredibly foolish still trying to reach out to him. She closed her eyes, thinking about what to say next. 

“Fine, Vil-san. I’ll go. But can I ask one thing first?”

“No! Absolutely not! Leave now otherwise…”

“ARE YOU ORDERING ME TO LEAVE AS MY DORM LEADER?! IF YOU AREN’T THEN I HAVE NO OBLIGATION TO OBEY YOU!” 

Vil started, eyes widening at the boldness of her statement. In his mind, he was mercilessly flinging beratements at her for her audacity but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to voice them. He stared silently at her, truthfully too tired to try to argue further. And his silence was precisely the answer Danica needed.

She took another step forward, keeping her eyes on him. When he made no objection, she took another breath, about to speak again before another sharp pain shot up her toe. The glass had scattered further than she thought and she cried out as another shard pierced her foot.This time, the pain was too much and she found herself losing her balance. 

No, Danica…

Momentarily forgetting his sorrow, Vil rushed to her side, scooping her up into his arms and eliciting a surprised gasp from her lips. Her eyes fluttered up at him and in his arms, she couldn’t help but blush. It was so similar to how he lifted her during their new years pas de deux. She glanced down at the ground, seeing the fragments of his phone screen scattered about and hoping Vil wouldn’t decide to drop her. 

But such was the last thing on Vil’s mind. A piece of glass cracked under his heels and seeing his broken phone in her hands made him realize what had happened. He gently sat her on a clean part of the floor before going to turn on the lights and grabbing a first aid kit that was stationed on the wall in the hallway. When Vil returned to the ballroom, he saw Danica softly whimpering as she held her foot, several red prints stained the floor where she had been walking. 

“I truly am terrible,” he murmured as he softly cleaned the blood off her foot. “A dancer as magnificent as you must keep her feet in tip top shape and yet look at the mess I’ve made of them.” 

Vil applied a small amount of healing potion, cringing inside at how she whimpered. As he bandaged her foot up, he noticed acutely how the bones in her leg protruded more than usual. She had lost so much weight, likely due to the stress he had placed upon her. He sighed, hesitantly placing his arm on her ankle, when she didn’t object, he softly ran his hand up and down her leg in a caressing manner. 

“It seems all I am capable of is causing you pain, Little Potato, and yet you still wish to speak to me?” 

“Yes, it’s true, you have hurt me, Vil-san,” Danica replied. “But this is the least of it. And a little broken glass is nothing compared to how awful Rook has made me feel.” She locked eyes with him and sighed as well. “It’s…clear I’m not the only one he has hurt today either.”

“Danica…” Vil’s hand stopped at her knee before reaching out to touch her shoulder. “I…don’t know what is going on between you and Rook. Honestly, I don’t want to know and as your dorm leader, I probably shouldn’t anyway. But even if I can forgive Rook for betraying NRC Tribe, if he’s hurt you, that I cannot forgive.”

Danica hesitated, in truth, she didn’t understand why Vil was so willing to forgive Rook’s actions against him. If not for him, Vil would finally, for once, have risen against Neige and proven his worth to the world. All Rook had done was reconfirm all Vil probably felt about himself, that he was ugly and cruel. Even if Vil had done cruel things, somehow, this punishment didn't seem to equate the actions, especially since Vil was already aware of all he had done wrong. 

How long would it be now before Vil once again had a chance to prove himself? Would he ever have the chance to prove his worth? And would Vil ever see it for himself? As Danica asked herself this, she felt something small and wet tap her leg. She glanced down and saw Vil’s gaze cast downward. From the angle she sat at, she couldn’t fully see his face, but she could feel his hands tremble against her skin. 

“Vil-san…” she whispered, hesitantly placing both of her hands on top of his. His hands quickly pulled away from her grasp but not cruelly, he pressed them to his face and that’s when she understood. “Vil-san…please…”

“You never deserved any of this,” he whispered, more tears sliding down his face, falling onto her leg. “Just because I’m meant to be a villain, it doesn’t mean…”

“Vil!”

“It doesn’t mean I had the right to say all those terrible things to you! It's true, I was just jealous of your victory, I was jealous and I was angry at Rook but I took it all out on you!” His whimpers quickly morphed into full on sobbing once again. “All this time, I’ve stressed to you that a black swan cannot stand beside a prine, but in truth, a villain has no right to…to…”

A villain has no right to stand by the side of an angel. 

Vil bit down hard on his tongue before he could say things better left unsaid. But Danica had heard enough, and understood enough of what he was trying to convey to her. At that moment, she couldn’t bear to remain angry at him, nor could she hold back her emotions any longer. 

It was bold, it was sudden, and for Vil, it was completely unexpected and even more shocking. His body froze as he tried to comprehend what she was doing. Besides his father, no one had ever really shown Vil affection, let alone embrace him like this. He was used to keeping people at a distance, used to people being intimidated by his aura and even Rook remained at arms length of him for the most part.  

But while the lack of affection in his life made this embrace all the more shocking, it also made Vil realize just how much he needed it. How much he was secretly craving this tenderness, and how much he never wanted her to let him go. 

“Vil-kun, what’s wrong?” Erik asked, gently stroking his son’s hair. “You did so well, you should be proud of yourself. Why are you crying?”

“I hated it! The way they looked at me!” Vil sobbed into his father’s chest, his small body swallowed up by his father’s embrace. “Everyone in the cast got flowers but me! Neige got the most but I didn’t get any! And the other kids made fun of me and said bad guys don’t get flowers! I don’t want to play bad guys anymore but those are the only parts I keep getting!” 

Erik hugged his son tighter, letting him cry as he glanced at the framed photo on the table in front of them. If only Valerie could still be here. For as much love as he gave Vil, there were times, like now, that he wondered if it was enough. 

“I’m not a mean boy! I just pretend to be mean when I’m acting!” Vil went on, staring up at his father with tears streaming down his face. “But I’m not mean! I’m not! So why do they always assume I’m mean?!”

“Oh Vil…”

“Why can’t I be the good guy for once?! Why can’t I ever be enough?!” 

“Shh shh, it’s alright,” Erik spoke in a soothing tone, gently wiping the tears away from Vil’s cheeks. “I know you’re upset, Vil. I know, I know. But you’re such a talented boy. And every part you play, you perform so wonderfully.”

“But no one loves villains,” Vil sniffed. “And no one cares when villains are defeated. Everyone cheers for the hero but no one cheers for the villains. No one likes us because we’re mean and hurt people!” 

“Yes, that’s true, but stories need villains, just as much as they need heroes. If there were no villains, there would be no obstacle for the heroes to overcome and the stories would become boring and fall apart.”

“So you mean…heroes need villains?” Vil asked, wiping the rest of his tears away. “But people still don’t like villains.”

“Not always,” Erik smiled. “There are some people who like watching villains more than they do heroes. Because the hero is always destined to succeed in the end, sometimes people take more interest in the villains because they want to see what they will do. Heroes always have to be good and do the right thing. But villains, they can do whatever they like because they don’t play by the rules.” He winked at his son. “That’s personally why I think playing the villain is more fun.”

“Dad…” 

Vil glanced up at his father, recalling a moment the previous halloween when his father returned home from performing in a musical. Erik was still wearing his special makeup that made him appear disfigured and it scared Vil so badly that he ran away from him and began to cry. He hid under the coffee table and It wasn’t until his father soothed him with a song from the musical that Vil recognized his voice and finally approached him. Though his appearance was frightening, beneath the makeup was still his kind and caring father. And in Vil’s young heart, he was everything that a hero should be and more. 

Finally, Vil’s tears began to fade and he smiled up at his father with new found confidence. 

“Well, just you wait, Dad!” he said. “Next time, I’m gonna play a hero! I’ll work extra hard on my next audition and I’ll leave everyone in tears! Just like Neige!” 

“Oh I have no doubt, Vil! After all, you’re my son!” Erik scooped Vil up in his arms, lifting him up in the air as he and Vil laughed together. He hugged him tightly to his chest. “But regardless of what role you get next, you are a good and beautiful boy, inside and out. And regardless of what roles you play in the future, you will always, always be enough.”

“Danica…” Vil murmured, still dumbstruck by this sudden show of affection. “Why…why are you?”

“May I speak plainly, Vil-san?” she asked softly. He did not respond right away but she decided to continue on anyway. 

“A few years ago, I watched you in a movie, it was The Twisted Prince,” at this, she felt Vil tense up slightly. But he didn’t stop her and she went on, “I remember how taken I was with your performance in that role. But it wasn’t just seeing you bring the twisted prince to life, it was also listening to your interviews around that time. I vividly remember one, yes, where you talked about the challenges of getting into the characters mindset because it was so far removed from your own. And how you said that you enjoyed the challenge and considered yourself a better actor because of it. That’s why I admire you, Vil-san. That’s why I still admire you even now.”

Vil remained silent but in his mind, he was considering his words. This wasn’t the first time someone had professed to being taken with one of his villainous roles, he had learned early on that there was a certain subset of people who naturally gravitated towards villains. But something about the way Danica spoke, there was such plain, brilliant honesty in the way she expressed herself and her admiration of him. Something he always found quite intriguing about her. 

“You lost your heart to the villainous prince, did you?” he asked, chuckling softly. 

“No, I lost my heart to someone driven in his goals and always determined to succeed, his efforts rivaling even those of the Fairest Queen of legend. Someone…I wanted to be like.”

Danica closed her eyes as she felt her face becoming hot. She was coming dangerously close to revealing something she was very unsure she wanted him to know. But somehow, she couldn’t stop herself. 

“From the moment I set foot in this dorm, I saw first hand how determined you were in everything you did, and it made me want to become more determined myself. That’s why, whenever you gave me tasks I thought were impossible or daunting, I still tried to do them because I wanted you to see my determination too.”

And every test I gave you, you passed with flying colors, Little Potato. Vil continued listening to her and slowly, the beginnings of a smile began to form on his lips. 

“But I’m so tired,” she went on. “I’m tired of the idea of heroes or villains, or white swans and black swans. In the end we all fucked up in this situation, Vil-san.”

“Ara, your language, Little Potato!” He tried to take on a scolding tone, but he found himself biting back a smirk. 

“Forgive my language but it’s true!” she giggled through the tears she felt forming in her eyes. “You hurt me, but I also broke my promise to you too! Rook betrayed us both and even Neige isn’t fully innocent either! He’s using his victory to guilt Lilianne into go on a date with him instead of accepting her rejection with grace!”

Hmph, he always had a way of getting exactly what he wanted. Vil scoffed under his breath. 

“And anyway, what is a hero really? The only thing being a hero means is to be the antagonist to a villain’s journey. But villains have their own hopes and dreams too.”

This was it, there was no turning back now. It almost didn't matter how Vil responded to what she said next. If Danica didn’t say this now, she never would, and she would regret it for all eternity. 

“There’s no way I can forgive what you’ve done to me, Vil. You did a lot of messed up things all to keep up with a standard that hates us both! I can’t forgive you, but I also can’t forget how much you've changed me for the better. You’ve inspired me to be the best version of myself that I can be. Before, I was always so afraid of people’s eyes on me but under your guidance, I feel myself really becoming confident in myself, I can’t forget that.” 

“Danica…”

Vil had not yet pulled away from her embrace and she tightened her hold on him as she took one final breath before finishing her tangent. 

“I can’t forget any of that, even if I can’t forgive how you’ve hurt me. So if you can’t be my hero, then I’m fine with being damned.” 

From the moment Danica began speaking, Vil could feel his emotions beginning to shift. But with every word she continued with, he felt his heart racing faster. It seemed almost too good to be true and in fact, she made no statement about love or even anything regarding her feelings. She didn’t have to though. After all that had transpired, it would be extremely forward for him to even imagine that they could rekindle their feelings for each other now. At least, not at this moment. 

The truth was, they both had many lessons they needed to learn before they could even begin to entertain such a thing. Vil would have to reconcile with his fate to always be a villain. Danica would have to decide whether or not she could accept that side of him in all that it entailed. And they would both have to learn to see each other past their labels, as full human beings. 

However in that moment, Vil was more than willing to accept this and learn any lessons needed, make any amends required, if he could even have just a chance to have this one thing he wanted. Something that, by some miracle, Neige hadn’t managed to take away from him. Something that, if such a thing like miracles existed, perhaps he could finally earn in time. It would be a miracle achieved through his own efforts of course, but a miracle all the same. And maybe, just maybe, the first sign that all hope wasn’t lost, and that he might one day finally be free of his curse. 

“Ara, ara, for you to see me in such an undignified state,” he sighed, finally returning her embrace. “I’m…afraid I’m going to have to have you sign an NDA, Little Potato.” Very gently, Vil reached out and cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye. “Why the tears? Don’t you dare waste them on me.”

“Vil-san…”

“Fear not, Danica. There is one thing I’ve always found admirable about villains. Care to know what that is?” She glanced up at him and nodded. “Villains never give up, they continue fighting on until the bitter end. And so shall I. This might be a minor roadblock but it doesn't mean I’m giving up. I won’t stop fighting until I’ve reached my goal to finally be better than Neige. And I won’t give up until I’ve finally reached my goal and become the fairest one of all.”

More tears fell down his face which made her tears return as well. But they were both smiling through them, smiling and holding onto each other, neither of them willing to let the other go. It was only the ringing of Vil’s shattered phone that finally forced him to pull away from Danica to take it to see who was calling. He glared down at the broken screen, it was the headmage. 

“Yes, what is it headmage?” Vil asked, barely attempting to mask his annoyance. “Why are you contacting me at this late hour?”

As it happened, Grim was missing. Yuulan had gone looking for him back at the VDC stage and he had strangely attacked her. Now he was on the loose and Crowley certainly couldn’t have a dangerous beast running wild around campus. Particularly with so many guests attending the cultural festival which would soon be in its second day. 

“I’m rounding up all of the dorm leaders to assist with the search for Grim,” said Crowley, his voice coming through sorted and static though Vil’s defective phone. “Please meet us as soon as you can, Mr Scheonheit.”

Vil groaned as he agreed and hung up the phone, wrapping it up in some bandage cloth before placing it carefully in his pocket. He finally stood up, and prepared to leave but not before guiding Danica back to the hallway and locking the door to the ballroom. 

“We’ll have to clean up the broken glass later,” he said to her. “But for now, try to get some rest, Little Potato. I’ll be back before dawn, hopefully.”

Danica stood in the hallway as she watched Vil leave. A plethora of emotions ran through her heart, none of which she imagined would be sorted out anytime soon. She hoped Vil would return back to the dorm safely but until then, she would return back to her room and continue to think about what she initially was wondering. What she would say to Vil the next time they saw each other. And she would continue to ponder the cruel price they both had to pay for their perfection. 

~~~

(A/N: I had many ideas for the ending of this story which, if it isn’t obvious, ends right where Book 6 begins. As this story was heavily inspired by Swan Lake, I considered ending this story in a similar way as the ballet but the thing is, there are several endings to the ballet ranging from happy to tragic and everything in between. In the end, I decided on a more open/ambiguous ending since I felt it might be a little awkward for the endgame ship to become official now after all that has occurred. 

But if it isn’t obvious by now, Vil will be Danica’s official endgame ship and in the future, she will be the only oc I will NOT be open to shipping with others weather canon or oc. Also, in my twisted mind, a sequel to this story does exist and may or may not already have several chapters already written. Unfortunately, this sequel will never see the light of day due to some heavy themes that border on dead dove territory. Without going into much detail, this hypothetical sequel involves heavy yandere themes, Danica temporarily transferring to Diasomnia and eventually overblotting. I might post hints to this overblot au in the future but for now, all everyone needs to know is that in time, after some serious mental work on both their parts, Vil and Danica will eventually have their true happily ever after. 

I’m not sure how “good” this fic is, since I decided to write it on a whim, completely trashing out what I originally had in mind for it. And the main reason why I really wanted to write this fic is, as mentioned, I was really affected by Vil's arc and very upset with how certain corners of the twst fandom mischaracterize him so badly. And because I see so much of myself in Vil, this may sound pathetic, but I felt that every time someone misjudged Vil, I was once again being placed on trial for my own traumas from my past and forced to defend myself and some of the not so nice ways I acted out when I was truly hurting and needed help and love. Even if I can't right all the wrongs in my past, I can at least see to it that Vil will have a happier ending than I did, even if it's not canon.

But I did enjoy writing it, even when it was difficult at times. And I truly hope people enjoyed reading it. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been inspired to write seriously and I am so thankful to twst for finally sparking inspiration in me once again and reminding me that I actually can write, and when I’m not overcome by crushing anxiety, I actually have interesting ideas too. 

In the meantime, Heloise’s birthday celebrations will happen this coming Monday (March 27th) and now that this fic is done, the next thing I’m planning is a Vidaria-centric overblot AU. But because the plot is partially dependent on what happens in Book 7, it might be a while before I begin posting it, though I will share excerpts soon. Also, I feel Danica has been thought ALOT in recent months, so come April 12th, we will be having a big celebration for her birthday on this blog and I hope everyone (and your ocs too!) will come and celebrate her with all the love and wagashi she deserves. 

I’d like to once again give a special thank you to @twst-the-night-away and @twstinginthewind​ for giving me permission to use their ocs in this fic. The latter of whom inspired a part of this chapter with her wonderfully angsty art that you can find here. Yes, this is where I got the idea for Vil’s shattered phone, something I decided on for the ending months ago even when I was still thinking about everything else. 

And once final time, thank you everyone for reading this fic, and feedback is very, GREATLY, appreciated! 💙💙💙)

[waterlemon-melon]

✨a classical and rock sensation: klavier gavin!✨

og text post | phoenix | miles | maya and pearl | franziska | mia | apollo | trucy | ema

world famous classical violin soloist and rock star (plays guitar and sings). didn’t do any classical concerts for 7 years until he heard of the news regarding his brother and wanted to play with the person who had exposed that side of kristoph. kristoph was his teacher and mentor all throughout his life so he really trusted what interpretations he should go for and what techniques he learned (up until aa4-4 plot and he breaks free from kristoph’s control and plays what his heart wants to play (with apollo and co supporting (aka tchaikovsky violin concerto mvt 2)) (he gets to be in the spotlight for his concerto performance before a more symphonic work is performed and apollo gets to shine). overall, very flashy playing but it gets more nuanced and sad and melancholy later on. also does composing on the side but it’s a private thing.

his go-tos:

ok this fits him so well bc paganini was also a rockstar back in the day and his works are just a show of virtuosity basically so i think klavier plays this a lot to impress his fans

ok so the reason i put 2 mvts of the tchaik vc here is bc the 1st mvt is basically his love letter to apollo! he plays this only for apollo, just wants to serenade herr forehead, no matter if it’s in public or not (actually in private it’s intimate and not all showy so apollo likes that version from klavier way more lol).

the 2nd mvt on the other hand is more abt his journey through his various misfortunes (disbarring phoenix, leaving trucy orphaned, forged evidence, kristoph and his killing spree) and with the clarinet (and oboe but whatever), he acknowledged that apollo has slowly guided him and in the end (to the 3rd mvt that is fun and full of folk dance melodies) he has pulled the darkness out of klavier

not his go to but i think the sibelius vc as a whole tracks klavier’s whole arc basically (from the ominous vibe of the 7yg, soaring melodies representing the highs of his court battles with apollo, to finally pursuing the truth with apollo)

[dianxiacantastemolecules]

Look at Me

Darling, to be perceived

Ain't that the biggest price you pay

For being able to see?

To taste the light that leaves from your skin

Oh! what a sin. Oh, what a sin!

I know how my face, what an awful visage

To behold, withhold,

In my eyes, a tragedy foretold

Worth putting on a blindfold

But the first time that you saw me

unknown, alone and underground

Some part of me began to break, escape

In search of the same melody

A melancholy of solace

…..

And when your soul melds into mine

Your giggles at the funeral, my knack for refusal

Too sweet, at times too much brine

In my laughter, see your humour shine

Won't you look at me baby?

Won't you look at me baby?

Won't you look at me baby?

Would you look at you, baby?

…..

Oh, to be loved, is to be seen

Yet, lover, I'd be

blind and beloved, to your Medusa

I'd become the screen, embracin’

The shadows you love to dwell in

I'd write this song

into the inside of your eyelids

Never to be seen again, Never to be heard

Never to exist outside, for anyone third

And I'd whisper into your ears, horny Hozier lines

Run away with you, from the Dinner and Diatribes

To roam around the woods we could end up dead inside

Watching Eros arise, all inhibition untied

……

If you find out one day, that I was the Mastermind

Thread of the fates that I intertwined

This perfect love story that I designed

Would you go back to change it all

Would you look at me babe?

Would you look at me baby

Would you look at me baby?

Would you look at me again?

…….

Oh but to love someone who bleeds in blue

I'm so sorry to have made one out of you

It's a curse, my love, an abomination

A calamity in the name of creation

Born of rage, forged by tears

Of solitude desire and despair

It's a wicked thing, Honey,

Don't heed its call

Don't feed it, it will devour

honey, it will devour

Best untamed, Better unnamed

Crawling up my spine, this art I call mine

It knows the worst of all my days

Only the worst of all my ways

Only the worst

Of all my ways

…..

And when the debt that is love has reached its filling

Every dead version of me, tired of its killing

When the kindness in me has reached its billing

Would you still look at me, babe?

Won't you look at me, baby?

Won't you look at me, baby?

Won't you look at me, baby?

Why'd you look at me, baby?

……

When all is said and done,

Our undead youth, alive and returned

No plan left for us, but to ravish this skin

As close to ashes as it can come

When my ink has dried from years of treachery

No words left in me, no worship, no faith, no fury

Your secrets in my heart, are all that I now contain

Love in my skin, from your kisses that remain

When I am but an echo of what I used to be

all around us now, only ghosts of me

Remind me again, of our love story

Lover, could you be good to me?

Lover, be good to me.

At the edge of the storm, the ninth circle of hell

What little left of me, for which you really fell

What are we anymore, you could never tell

Would you still look at me, babe?

Won't you look at me, baby?

Won't you look at me, baby?

Won't you look at me, baby?

I hope you would.

[chim-aera]

pomegranate

I am like a pomegranate. I always have been.

not an apple, not easily accessed, not bright, and lovely. sweet nectar dribbling down your chin, skin broken with one bite.

no, I'm guarded. dark red armor, hiding the intimate depths of my soul, of my body. there is no tender flesh available for you to touch, I am all shining sheaths, all crimson coats.

pull me apart, try to rip through my barriers, I'll crumble, fall apart.

all the while I stain you, dripping red, staining your fingers, your tongue, your hands. saying, pointing, showing, what you did to me.

you did this. you did this. you did this.

no I am not easily accessed.

I've always found a sort of solace with the disregarded things. items, objects, creatures, myths. the monsters and morrows.

the misunderstood.

I am like a pomegranate.

I can be destroyed, yes.

with some force, sink your fangs into me, rip me apart. or, leave me alone.

grow bored when I do not yield immediately, I never do. not all the way. I am far too distrusting for that. toss me to the ground let me roll back to Mother, soil staining the waxy surface, as I am simply lost, and forgotten as another rotten harvest. another fallen fruit.

but I can be opened, I can be seen. it only takes gentleness to get there. patience, and a tender hand.

I use no knives when I peel them, pomegranates, just my bare, calloused, cool hands, pulling gently at the top, at the crown, like the one Hades placed reverently on his goddess's forehead.

it will split in two, glistening like rubies, like blood stains, like poems. glittering like scarlet stars, and one by one will I carefully pull out the little jewels, letting the sugary syrup coat my tongue, relishing in a gift from the gods.

patience.

that's all it takes.

and a want for it.

oranges.

it's always oranges.

perhaps I find some sympathy for them, but I have only found kindred in those bleeding garnet garnishes.

they're known so well for their beauty, yes.

but how many act only with violence, ripping her soft flesh, spilling her blood.

why am I identifying with a fruit?

but I am nevertheless.

oh Kore, Queen, Goddess, why do I find myself echoing your name, your epithets falling from these still lips.

over.

and over.

and over.

how did you do it?

left your cage, found your love? when I have done neither.

but I am far, far from goddess.

I'm not even some moon-eyed maiden, all I am, is some shivering, sordid thing.

or perhaps I am simply tired.

tired of all this.

I'm not angry, no injustice has been done.

but gods, gods I am tired.

Orpheus, if it were me he had turned around for, no wrath would mar my features, I would feel no remorse, if I were to be doomed to return back to king and queen, drawn back to Styx, to Hades, with the sorrows and shades, at least the last thing I see is your face. is knowing I was loved.

memento mei in fabulis.

make a story, perhaps, write me weird, write me well.

I know you will.

perhaps one day the song will flit down here to me among the meadows of morose melancholy.

not even my crown of asphodel could make me forget you.

find me in elysium, perhaps, maybe tarturus, but then again, I have passed judgement already, strangely enough, I judged myself well. the bronze sword fell in my favor.

but that does not matter now.

riddles.

metaphors.

inchor drips from my jaws, through the gaps of my teeth, from behind my eyelids, I try to rub it away but it seeps into my skin staining me murky and ink-ridden.

will I always be this way?

I am nothing if not a romantic.

internally.

philosophically

hopelessly.

run your sword through my heart to check if it is still beating, is it? I couldn't tell?

but still, I'd only smile as I fell to the earth, flick my blood of the blade, let it color the anemone blossoms.

I do not want to be wanted, I want to be sought.

for all of me, whole, whole.

scars, and screaming, softness and songs.

all my madness and melodies and melcholy.

if someone will take all of that, I don't know what I'd do.

I do not seek pleasure, I just want to be loved.

and here I am again, some feral, frazzled cat scratching down walls, clawing and climbing in its own indignation.

I am nothing if not some songbird plucking out its own windpipe.

a walking cacophony of conundrums.

dauntless dualaties at its very finest.

but yes.

pomegranates.

patience and care, perhaps I'll just sit here, waiting, within Lord Hades' chambers.

waiting for someone to bind themself to me, willingly, like his Goddess did with him.

waiting till someone wraps rough or tender hands around my aching vessel, to hold me, to want me.

pull me apart, lower my defenses, peel them back one by one.

you scream and stab me I'll cower or combust, but a gentle stroke or soft soothing and I may fall forward crumbling like petals withering in your fists, but for once will someone catch me?

tear me open to the dawn, I may shrivel in sunlight.

it's been so long.

it's been eternity.

but will you?

I'm waiting.

waiting for that chance, that day. when I'm plucked from the branch I so desperately despise, yet cling to. my prison and asylum all at once.

waiting, until I'm pulled down, seen, and perhaps, then you'll taste me, when I'm out in the open, undoing each piece of armor bit by bit, I'll hand you my dagger, as you lay it on the ground, oh how I wish not to need it.

for someone to try, for someone to fight for me, for someone to give me a reason not to need all this fear.

but for now that is fiction.

and I am nothing if not a dreamer, so let me dream.

let me fall back into my fantasies and frivolities that I adore so dearly.

let me sleep.

let me dream.

a tree in winter, will spring come again?

I've never even blossomed.

that's alright.

I haven't rotted entirely yet either, I have time.

but for now here I am, waiting.

a pomegranate.

all ruby rosiness, all tentative textures.

spit me out, or suck me dry. either. neither. but nevertheless I am here.

and I will not lose hope.

besides.

perhaps, just maybe.

there is someone, up there, who is searching for me, who wants me, and maybe for now that is enough.

[inmyaera]

The Pink Palace off Sunset Blvd.

A poem by Aera.

“Love is not a destination to reach, but a journey to embark upon”

Pink hearts in my eyes

Pink hearts in my mind

Pink hearts in between my thighs

Pastels bark my story as hearts consume my world.

Melancholy, my deepest pet peeve when I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve around my favorite girl.

Expression of obsession around the field of sweet dahlias that sweep the wind around my feet.

"I love you" in gold leaf mosaic, Pink ceilings so beautiful and me.

As I clim6 the stairs, I look around and see my past, my life, and everything that lights up my world as powerfully as the sunbeams residing in me, always leaving my heart, shining down upon thee.

Velvet purple couches, creame lotions, cream ceilings hugging the crème curtains guarding the balcony.

Satin pillows and glass tables,

Beauty so angelic in the ceramic fountains reminiscent of the sea.

A vessel of blood and beauty with doors and windows functioning as they are,

The words travel from mind to lip so vague of par.

Embrace me and take me in stride like the Pink Palace off Sunset Blud.

Photograph and haze me with velvet clouds in my glass eye as we laugh and talk about where we want to go, and what we want to know.

Don't see me for what I'm not or what you want, yet as a deity of culture and freedom who has yet to know you have room to grow,

Because with time comes sweet melodies that flow with time present like a crystal stream,

More beautiful than ever so.

Maybe I'm young and dumb, maybe I'm gulible and foolsh to irevocably fall, But time is a virtue and ‘tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.