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lalunanymph · 7 months ago

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𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎

in japanese culture, 'jizos' are small figurines dressed in red caps and bibs to honor the souls of babies who were never born

tw miscarriage, implied cheating, heavy angst, itoshi rin x fem!reader

The salty sea air stung his eyes, drawing to them a sheen of tears that threatened to spill out by the sight that greeted him.

Close to the shore, draped in a long trench coat and staring out into the horizon, the woman he loved stood with her back turned from him, shoulders hunched and eyes vacant.

After days of traversing this small town and asking around well-meaning shopkeepers and local experts, he had finally found the plum orchard belonging to her family. A few kilometres from the bountiful field was the seashore where she often spent time in the evenings to conclude a full day of plum-picking.

Rin stared at you, at your silhouette, raking his eyes up and down your figure like a starving man. There was a pit hollowing out in his rib cage, right underneath his heart where it used to beat valiantly—strongly—and now was nothing but an empty shell. He took one step forward, and stopped.

The beach was empty today, the winter season repulsing tourists from enjoying the crystalline waters. Vendors and tired mothers alike could not find solace from this harsh weather, and so they turned inward, away from the harsh cold. But, you could not be any different. You sought out the wind, the chill and the loneliness like an orphan chased away from home, tracking the clouds in the sky with sightless, forlorn eyes.

Rin watched as you sat down on a stone bench, drawing your knees to your chin. He thought you had never looked this small and fragile as you did now.

His feet took him towards you without him telling them to, an impulse he swore he had gotten rid of those months ago when you disappeared from his life and into anonymity. Every step forward felt like he was walking on glass, and he paused in jerky stops, wrestling with his trembling knees that ached to kneel before you in seeking forgiveness.

You heard someone approaching, and the sudden interruption to your usual peaceful days fractured into broken shards of icy realisation when you saw him standing a few feet away.

His mop of dark green hair with its too long bangs falling in his face, the pinch between his brow and the devastation in his hollow, teal eyes. He looked thinner than you remembered, shoulders hunched and cheekbones gaunt. The most telling of his suffering were his eyes—they were always filled with fiery passion and disdain for those he perceived as useless and weaker than him. Those teal pits were depleted of their rage, replaced by crestfallen despair that made you wish you never turned around in the first place.

Something fractured in you, razing down your composure for a few seconds to allow a show of fear flitting across your face. Rin walked towards you with his palms raised, a peace treaty for his declaration of conflict. He pleaded without words for you to stay put, even going so far as to approach you cautiously like you were a wounded animal.

Your breathing ran jagged, and a tremble overtook your hands. Rapidly, your eyes ticked towards the closest escape path, wondering how fast you could sprint to evade his touch—his presence—and hide away once more so he could never unearth you again. As if he could read your mind, Rin’s hoarse, low voice pierced through the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t run.”

You stood, rooted to the spot, breath tumbling out in frosty trembles. He stopped a few feet away from you, letting you gasp in the salty air that was not tainted by his familiar pine cologne and musk. Giving you some space to adapt to his presence.

Rin was a man who floundered with his words if it wasn’t steeped in threats or aggression. There was nothing he could do to remedy the sudden catch on his tongue, the lump in his throat that almost swallowed him whole. You were better at this than he was; better at speaking, at expressing yourself and your love. You were always a better person than he was.

He could not even offer you comfort because he forgot how it felt—how comfort tasted and moulded in between his embrace, forever lost to his blind touches ever since the day you disappeared from his life.

The wind started to pick up and bite your exposed wrists, and you wished you had brought some gloves to ward off the chill of his ocean deep eyes boring into yours.

Neither of you spoke for a time, the waves crashing to shore the only accompaniment to this lovelorn scene playing out between two people who were no longer lovers. You glanced at your boot-clad feet sinking in the soft sand, and turned your gaze out towards the horizon.

The wind played with the edges of your locks, and Rin fought the unreasonable urge to tuck them behind your ears, to not take your cheeks in his hands like he used to do a million times before.

“Y/N—”

“Why did you come here?” Your voice was feathered with exhaustion, echoing the dark circles underneath your eyes. “The paparazzi will catch you—your career will be on the line if you’re seen with me. You should go.”

You turned around to walk away and Rin didn’t know what was worse—that your first thought was to keep his reputation safe or that you assumed he hadn’t taken the consequences into consideration when he made this impossible move to find you. There were more dire concerns on the line besides his reputation; his probation with PXG hanging in thin air, the number of fouls piling up on his name, the amount of misses he had during last week’s training alone…

But, Rin disregarded them all. He buried them in the back of his mind as he took a train, then a plane and rented a car to drive himself to this little, far-flung town hundreds of miles away from Tokyo.

Just for a chance to see you.

And you had turned your back on him, thinking he was here by mistake.

He wasn’t.

Rin reached out to grab your wrist, not anticipating the choked cry you released. He cringed away like you had scalded him and noticed a second too late the silvery tracks running down your cheeks.

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, pitiful. “I already gave you everything. Everything, Rin. Please leave me alone.”

The tiny sniffles you expelled, the tears you dashed away and the completely miserable fracturing of your expression made him come to a hard pause.

Rin swallowed heavily, about to reach out for you again when you shrank back and shook your head. His lungs were filling up with water and his knees were weighted with lead when they sank into the sand, strong arms vining around your torso as he buried his face into your lower back. Desperately holding onto you so you wouldn’t wash away like his hopes and dreams—whispers of foolish wishes that would never come true: of the peaceful life he wanted to have with you, your beautiful face the first thing he would see every morning when he greeted the world, the adorable reflections of your children who would have his eyes and your smile…

“Don’t,” his pleas cracked under the weight of his muffled sobs. “Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry, baby.”

But, like sand slipping through his fingers, you evaded his grasp and anguished yearning, leaving him alone on his knees as if you never existed in the first place. The brief contact he had with you seared through his skin like an iron brand, tasting of your warmth and sunshine he had missed in what felt like decades. It was like he could finally smell, see and love vividly, only for that light to be taken away from him when you pried his hands off you and took one step forward.

Disregarding him behind in the dust like how his brother once did. Rin refused to let you go, gripping onto the hem of your coat, praying you would turn around and see him again—love him again.

“Rin—” The choked emotion in your tone was far from the spite one would assume a heartbroken woman like you would have.

You had known Itoshi Rin to be an incredibly proud man who would never beg or plead for anyone quite like how he was bowing on his knees for you. And it pained you to see him this broken down—this beaten.

Because of you.

“Stop. Don’t.” Stand up, live your life, leave me alone.

Words you could not say perforated the air harsher than any salt or mineral could to rust the foundations of your feeble relationship with Rin. “Please, go. You… I don’t want to do this. We’re over, Rin. We’ve been over. Stop. Don’t do this.”

You halfway wished you hadn’t glanced back at him to tug your coat from his grasp. Wished you hadn’t seen his red-rimmed eyes, his swollen lips from biting back quiet sobs or the utter agony you could never fully grasp swimming in those beautiful teal irises of his. They swirled around you like dangerous eddies, dunking you into their icy bellies and numbing your rational thoughts from the perilous consequences.

And you valiantly fought off the current, trying hard to shake the hatred lingering in your soul for the words he spat in his brother’s face during the heat of their argument.

It happened weeks ago but you could still recall what he said like it was imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

Don’t be a lukewarm idiot—she’s worthless and means nothing to me. I only wanted to take revenge on you so you would know what it… what it felt like to lose!

A tear slipped past his lash line, free falling down to the grainy ground and sinking into the porous beyond. How many tears had the sand taken from the sea only to welcome her agony over and over again like a patient martyr? Another drop was hardly a burden onto his shifting shoulders; Rin’s heartbreak held no substance in time besides this very second, soon to be absorbed, never to be seen again.

All you did was sped up the process, not wanting to delay this excruciating torment and endure it for another second longer.

“I’m sorry,” he offered again, this time in a softer tone, as if he understood he had lost the war before it even began. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, baby? Please? Take me back.”

The last sentence was more of a desperate order than a request, his entire heart on the line when he reached out to you again, beseeching you like a sinner begging for clemency from a deity, taking your hands and pressing your palms to his cheeks. “Let me explain myself. I love y—“

“Please.”

The warmth you bestowed onto him even for just a few seconds was ripped away again, with more force this time, and you didn’t care if he was on his knees; you wanted to run away and never see him again.

Taking a few mincing steps back, your heart exploded with agonising relief when he didn’t move after you, frozen to the ground with his arms extended out towards your direction. They eventually flopped back to his side, losing all momentum and hope when you shook your head, fighting back a sob with a palm pressed to your mouth. Your eyes were heavy with unshed tears, and the moment you looked away, one of those pesky droplets broke free and slipped down your cheek, illuminating a path he wanted to kiss away with his apologetic lips; to stop the flow of sorrow with his aching devotion.

But, from your tense shoulders and frozen shock, you would rather swallow glass than let him do that; you wouldn’t let him come close to you without putting up a fight.

Balling your fists over your mouth, he watched, helpless to do anything but watch when you expelled a loud, muffled sob and shook your head from side to side, as if to push off the pain clinging to you like a second skin.

“Go,” you heaved through the cracks of your fingers, shaking from head to toe. “You’ve taken everything from me—my life back in Tokyo, my relationship with… with Sae… my reputation… you’ve gotten your revenge, Rin.”

You gasped that last part out, releasing one fist to push into your stomach, grounding your pain with a physical one so that you wouldn’t lose your mind right this instance. “I meant nothing to you, r-right? So, you shouldn’t be here if I m-meant n-nothing to y-you.”

“Wait—”

He barely blurted out his next words when you swivelled on your axis and sprinted back to your car, leaving him alone on the cold sand to fend off his tears. His knees smarted when he stood back to his full height, hands jammed into his pockets to hide the tremble in his fingers as those agonised teal eyes watched your car disappear down the road, back to the safety of your family’s orchard. Back to your cocoon you had spun to hide yourself away from the world.

Away from him.

Rin dropped his eyes to the sand staining his dark wash jeans, methodically brushing back one grain after another, his mind humming a blank. He ignored the pain in favour of taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up the hem of his jeans to his calves and soaking his feet in the cold waves lapping around him. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, immersed in the cold, fighting back the pain manifesting in his right temple.

He peeled open his eyes again, and realising that he had sunken in a few inches since he last stood at the edge, he reluctantly stepped back, picking his shoes and socks from near the stone bench and made his way towards the old, rented car. Driving away, he escaped with his metaphorical tail in between his legs, not noticing a lone figure scrutinising him at a lookout point just above the beach.

Dressed in dark jeans and a similar jacket to Rin, his signature auburn hair tucked under a baseball cap and a large pair of shades covering his eyes, Itoshi Sae watched his brother fall to his knees for the woman who once belonged to him.

He was positioned too far to hear the words you both exchanged, but he could guess the context when Rin refused to let you go, clinging onto you like how a scared child might to his mother about to leave out the door forever.

Sae admitted he didn’t feel a shred of satisfaction when you repeatedly turned away, only for Rin to grip onto your coat, your hands, and nearly catch your waist again when you finally evaded him and sprinted towards your car. He wasn’t a cruel bastard the world made him out to be, not when he had to fight off the ache to tug his little brother back from the seashore, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as Rin stood stock still at the ocean’s lip.

He waited, wondering if Rin would succumb to the same pit of misery that was exactly like the one in his chest and wade deeper into the churning sea. Sae mulled over the thought of whether he had it in him to pull his younger brother back from the edge.

But, the moment Rin walked back to his car, Sae released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

He grunted, hands tightening into fists when his otouto drove away, in the direction of your home; the same address Sae had painstakingly researched for till the early hours of morning.

Truth be told, Itoshi Sae had no idea what he was doing here.

He had abandoned his flight to Spain and chose a domestic one to this buttfuck town in the middle of nowhere, just for the slimmest hope of seeing you again.

Peak season was upon the football world, and his team had a match against Italy next week. In theory, he should be practising his drills until he collapses in exhaustion, not stalking the woman whose life he ruined with clandestine pictures of her affair with his own brother.

What is wrong with me?

Sae could never find the exact answer for that. So, he waited until the sky dipped under the horizon and the shutters of night started to close upon the corners of the world.

Only then did he turn back to his own car to drive in the opposite direction of Rin; back to his hotel to pack up and leave this shit town before his coach realised he was missing.

In just one afternoon, your entire world had turned upside down.

You should’ve known that when peace came with the realisation that life had at least managed to work out for you, your past would come knocking on your door, like a bloodhound sniffing out your deepest wounds.

And you absolutely had not expected to see Rin at all.

You could barely pay attention to your job, and the cash register felt more like a barricade hiding you from incoming fire than a counter you could seek a few hours of solace from. Counting spare change needed a calculator’s help, and you had nearly dropped an entire jar of expensive umeboshi if it wasn’t for Kenji’s quick reflexes in catching the heavy glass.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised to him, almost in tears. “I’m… I’m not right today.”

He didn’t have to ask you why, because the second you uttered those words, the shop bell rang shrilly, and Rin stepped into the tiny store.

Kenji straightened, staring at the other man in disbelief; wondering just what the hell an Itoshi brother was doing here in the middle of Minabe where he didn’t belong.

“You,” Kenji seethed, rolling up his sleeves. Somewhere behind him, you flinched and took a step back behind the still, as if bracing yourself for the worst.

In your mind, you imagined Rin’s tantrum, the words he would yell at you and the attention drawn, once again, to your luckless love life in choosing him over Sae.

But, you hadn’t expected Rin to stiffly bow at your brother, completely ignoring you as he mumbled, “I’m here to submit a job application. I saw you needed a staff member to help with menial tasks and I wanted to try my luck.” The sign tacked onto the front of the shop drew your eyes towards it, and you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it in the first place until Rin pointed it out. Bowing deeper, he ignored your soft gasp of bafflement, only focused on the one man who held the keys to his redemption.

Without waiting for Kenji to reply, Rin bulldozed on to sell himself.

“I’m strong. I have good stamina and my physique stands at 6 foot 3. I can help with rearranging jars and even with plum picking, if you would accept me.”

Whatever card your brother expected your ex-lover to play, it wasn’t this. He stood there, stupefied with his stocky shoulders slumped. For a split second, he glanced at you, and with a secret sibling code, he raised his eyebrows, as if to say—what’s going on?

Your reply was a quick, sharp shake of your head. I don’t know.

Rin waited while you both silently communicated, his intense teal stare never wavering from the dirty tiled floors.

It wasn’t your decision to reject or hire any potential employees, so your brother was the one to call the shots.

“What… why would you want this job?” Narrowing his eyes, Kenji spoke through gritted teeth when the obvious answer settled in. “If it’s just to play sweet by my sister, you can forget it. I’m never letting you get close to her.”

You noticed Rin’s heavy shoulders tensing and anticipated a sharp reply or the promise of a brawl. Not lowered eyes and an almost regretful expression.

“I wanted to atone for my mistakes and this was the only way I knew how. I want to help your family, L/N-san.”

It sounded strange to hear your ex-lover say your family name with such formality; it made you come to terms that he never held a perception of hierarchy when it came to you.

You were always Y/N to him, just like he was just Rin to you.

“Fuck off, Itoshi,” your brother retorted hotly, and he picked up a broom, as if the measly stick could ward off a seasoned football player who was physically in his prime. “Get out of here. You’re just trying to get back into my nee-chan’s good graces. You shouldn’t be here.”

Kenji’s words rang around the small shop. The air-conditioner gurgled and whined; there was no other sound in this tight bubble of tension than all of your heavy breathing.

Rin’s eyes met yours for the first time since this morning when you rejected him on the beach with desperation. They were filled to the brim with such sorrow you had never seen the egotistical striker carry; a weight curving the ends of his lips down.

“Can I at least speak to you before I leave? Please?” he added softly as an afterthought.

Kenji glanced at you, prepared to fight your battles. But, you shook your head and took a deep breath. This was a conversation you needed to have with Rin alone; there was only so much you could do before your past came back with a vengeance, pleading for you to resolve the suffocating emotions so everyone could move on freely.

Going around the still, you glanced back at Kenji with a tight smile. “Could we borrow the balcony for a bit?”

Your brother looked like he would rather swallow nails than let stay in the same room with this bastard for one more second. He debated for a split second, and only when you nodded again, did he give his consent.

“Fine.” Fishing in his overall’s pockets, he tossed you a single bronze key. To Rin, he fixed a glare. “If I hear one single complain from my nee-chan��”

“You have every right to beat me up,” he promised without prompting, catching both you and Kenji back with surprise. Rin’s conviction in his tone was what gave the slightest bit of confidence to Kenji that the pro-player wasn’t going to hurt you again once his back was turned. “I’ll take care of her,” Rin murmured softly, and the glimmer of gratitude on his lashline shouldn’t have made Kenji feel guilty, but it did. “You can trust me with that.”

His reassurance was a bit of an overkill, but it worked to ease your brother’s distaste. Kenji glanced at the ticking clock, and then back at your grim expression.

“Fifteen minutes. Anymore than that and I will personally throw you out of this store myself, Itoshi. You’re taking up my only employee’s precious time.”

“I promise I’ll make this quick.” Rin’s serious expression reflected your exasperation back. You loved your brother, but sometimes, he could be a bit of a hardhead with his threats.

“We’ll be down in a bit,” you reassured, and unlocked the door which led right to the very top floor. “Please help me man the counter?”

The corner of your brother’s lip twitched, but he didn’t deny your request, taking your place behind the still with his back turned from the door. Counting down the minutes and showing enough grace to give you both the privacy you needed without his prying eyes.

You shot him an appreciative look, and gestured at Rin to follow you. He kept a respectable distance from you, hands in his pockets and surly expression locked on the linoleum floor to watch his steps.

Bright sunlight battered down your head without mercy, and you shielded your eyes, staring out at the different tiled houses as far as your eye could see. In the distance was the beach where Rin had encountered you not even five hours ago, his knees digging into the sand, begging you for the forgiveness you could not give to him.

Now, he was back here, braving the storm of your family’s retribution and judgement to speak to you.

What did that say about his character and intentions?

If Rin really was guilty of the things he had done to you, he would’ve stayed away for the sake of his good conscience. But, here he was, looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky and the stars would disappear if he took his eyes off of you for a single second.

A cool breeze played with the ends of your hair, and it threw his bangs into a disarray. You almost reached forward and pushed them back, like you did the first time you had met Rin in his kitchen. But, like that very first time, you chickened out and kept your hands into fists by your side.

“Thank you for your willingness to listen,” he broke the silence, and your heart plummeted right into your stomach when the redness rimming his eyes came into your focus.

“Are you sleeping well?” you had no idea why you blurted out such a question. What Rin did in his spare time was none of your concern anymore. And yet… you couldn’t stop your curiosity on his wellbeing.

He blinked and briefly glanced down at his sneakers. “Um, no. A-are you?”

The question was meant to sound casually curious, but with Rin, nothing was ever casual. His intensity in hiding his true emotions was as palpable as your shaking hands. Neither of you could keep the truth from the other for too long, or play along with a game that had already decided the heartbroken loser.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your body, preferring to stare out at the sliver of calming blue in the distance than his haunted teal eyes.

“Rin—”

“I’m sorry.”

Just like that, with no fanfare of emotional blackmail. Itoshi Rin expressed his regret as eloquently as he could—with less words because he was a man of action. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and hold you right above his heartbeat.

Couldn’t you hear it from where you stood? It only thrummed the cadence of your name. You were written in his every breath from the second he saw you.

Rin needed you to forgive him because he may actually go insane if you refused to show him any grace.

His heartbeat was lodged right in his throat, and he stared at you with open want; wishing you would break the distance between the both of you and fall right back into his arms.

But, you had every right to be angry with him. He was the root cause that destroyed your life; the virus which encroached your every breath and poisoned how the world saw you.

Your reputation, your home and your job was all gone because of him. It would take a lifetime to atone for his mistakes, and Rin was ready to start now. He would lay himself right at your feet if you so much as asked him to. If you told him that you never wanted to see him again, he would fight to try and change your mind.

Rin would fight for you, tooth and nail, because that was what a striker did. They would go to the ends of the earth for a goal, and you were one of his biggest aspirations to return to.

The trophies and medals and worldly recognition didn’t matter.

All Itoshi Rin wanted was you in your pure entirety.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I promise, I—” his breath caught, and the truth spilled from his willing lips onto your unwilling ears that burned with the shame of remembering everything he said before. “—I was stupid and careless with my words. You don’t mean ‘nothing’ to me. You… you mean a lot to… to me…”

He trailed off, the words right on the tip of his tongue.

You are my everything, Y/N. I love you.

It’s just three words. Rin was able to say it. He was able to share his entire soul with you if his mouth would just move.

Come on, you coward. Tell her what she deserves to hear. Tell her what you’re really feeling. Just tell her—

“I love… I love…”

Like the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, those words which carried a Universe of meaning were about to fall like the heaviest stars onto your lap. For you to marvel at, for you to hold, or for you to reject—Rin wasn’t sure what you would do.

He never had a chance to tell you how he really felt before the scandal broke out, and he was paying the price for his big ego. He should’ve told you what you meant to him. He should’ve yelled out to the world how you made his heart sing and how you could make his stone cold soul come back to life with the promise of your new tomorrow.

There were a lot of things Rin should’ve done, and loving you was the only thing he should’ve done right.

You didn’t deserve the half-love he gave you or those harsh words which fractured your trust in him.

You had made him feel safe when he couldn’t even stay still in his own skin. You were the one person who dared to dig deeper past his cold facade to bring out the boyish side of him begging for love. You patiently mended his broken pieces with your constant patience. You made him feel reassured enough to expose the soft underbelly of his emotions.

You had carried his baby.

And what did he do?

He broke your heart. He made you feel like you never meant anything to him. He played a big part in destroying your entire life. He had caused you enough stress to lose the gift of love you both created together.

You had appeared in his life like a ray of light through fractured glass on an ice-cold surface. Slowly, you chipped apart his frosty demeanour, and for the first time in his life, Rin felt like he belonged somewhere. That he belonged with someone.

Rin had always felt like a stranger everywhere he went, and you were the first one to give him direction in his short life. He wasn’t nurtured by his own mother, barely tolerated by his own father and completely despised by his older brother.

There were a few people he could count on his fingers who actually cared for him, and you were always at the forefront of his mind whenever that question arose.

“Y/N,” the words he wanted to say came out as a hitched breath. “I love yo—”

“Rin, please,” your exhausted call of his name stopped him from spilling out those three words which he desperately hoped would change your mind.

The look on your face was nothing short of pure heartbreak. Even in your dreary uniform, you shone like the brightest star, refracting off his foolish hopes and dreams for a reconciliation when you were still hurting with every breath.

Rin knew this. He knew he had to give you time. But, his time here with you was limited; half of him wanted to let you know the words which burdened heavily on his soul before he had to wait to see you again—if he would ever see you again.

If you would ever allow him to see you again.

But, judging from your stance to your sombre expression, Rin sensed his chances were slim to none. The desperation clawed at his throat, resting somewhere underneath his ribcage and pulsing with only one sensation.

Hope.

Rin desperately hoped you would take him back. All he ever wanted was you.

But, you broke that hope with what you said next, and whether you knew it or not, you stole the last of his sanity when your words hit him like a truck.

“Everything we did… for you, it was revenge. But, for me… it was love.”

Your watery smile cracked into painful fragments, rivers of anguish carving down your cheeks. His entire chest exploded into stabs of pain. Questions and uncertainties bounced in his brain like a broken record: should he reach out for you? Kiss you? Beg for your forgiveness again?

“I loved you, Itoshi Rin,” you finished your soliloquy quietly, unaware of the storm you set off in his soul, his frozen body desperately stuck in its eye.

Say something you coward… change her mind… tell her you love her.

But, she loved me.

Loved. Not love.

Was he too late?

Those pesky words clogged the back of his throat, and no matter how much he wanted to spill them out, they wouldn’t budge. Remaining stuck there to rot while he had to watch you slip away from him for the third time in his life.

The smile you wore did not touch your glossy eyes, and you closed them momentarily, letting the sun burn behind your lids in this last enjoyment of the winter afternoon rays. You opened them to his red-rimmed eyes and quivering lips. You were going to devastate him again, he knew it, but he could not turn around and look away; could not peel his attention from the wreckage waiting to unfurl—your earth-wounding words that would shatter his hopes all over again.

“Even if you have broken my heart into pieces… I just want to say that… I would’ve loved to dance with you again in another lifetime.”

Loved. Not love.

You bowed your head, having unloaded all you needed to say and turned around for one final time.

Rin took one step back, reeling from the surety of your words that were set in stone.

Loved. Not love.

He really was too late.

As if an invisible timer signalled the end of this meeting, you bowed your head, trying your best to ignore the devastation imploding on every inch of his expression out of the corner of your eye.

“I should be going now, Rin,” you muttered softly. “I have to finish my shift… Please, get home safely.”

Home.

He watched as you gave him a parting, thin smile, and with your arms still wrapped around your torso, you descended down the stairs. Back to your new life and reality without him.

Rin closed his eyes, warding off the intrusive thoughts begging him to just grab you and hold you tight in the seam of his embrace so you would never leave him again. But, he recognized that if he did, you would hate him forever.

He needed to give you some space. And he needed to finally tell you what was haunting his mind and soul.

He needed to tell you what he truly felt or else the peace he was desperately seeking would never find him.

It was stupid, but Rin had to try.

And he wouldn’t stop trying until he could finally unburden the secrets of his soul.

Until he could finally tell you how much he loved you without stuttering over his words and keeping them hostage on his traitorous tongue.

I love you. I love you.

Why were those words so hard to say? What could make it easier when he knew with every fibre of his soul that they were true?

Maybe I have to show it to her instead of saying it.

And just like that, he conjured up a simple idea, one which would lead him right back to you.

But first, he had to win over your younger brother.

Rin was relentless in pursuing you.

He had another day left in Minabe before his reservation at this shitty ryokan was up and Ego-san would call for a nationwide search to find his best striker. His paltry pile of clothes were packed—reluctantly, he might add—into neat squares in the corner, ready for him to stuff into his suitcase. Implicitly, Rin knew what the outcome of this crazy idea would be, and if his hunch was proven right, he had to leave—and quickly.

He took a look at himself in the floor length mirror, tousling his limp bangs into a semblance of life. Deciding the angle in which they flopped was better than the last, he inhaled deeply and set out to find you once more.

Along the way, Rin stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers. They were pathetic at best—a few limp stems poking from the damp wrapping��but, he knew you loved pink lotuses. They were your favourite; he remembered how you couldn’t keep your eyes off them when the both of you walked past an arrangement perched prettily on a console table during that brief respite on a balcony in Hokkaido.

With flowers in hand, Rin put on his thickest face, prepared to trudge back into your little umeboshi shop and finally spill out the words lodging in the back of his throat ever since he first saw you in your ridiculously short miniskirt under the light of his mother’s kitchen.

But, when he disembarked from his car, he found the shop locked. Closed for the day.

One quick scan of the plaque hanging by the handle told him that Ume Sanka didn’t open on Tuesdays.

A lump of coal seemed to settle in the pits of his stomach. He swallowed hard, and doubled back, about to scour the beach for you, when he noticed a woman staring at him from across the street.

“Hello!” she called out to him, in a friendly way most villagers had. She waved him over, her rheumy eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, how handsome you are,” she cooed, and disregarding personal space, ruffled his hair.

“Hey—”

Rin snapped his mouth shut when she laughed throatily. “Are you looking for the L/N girl? You must be a suitor from Tokyo trying to win her back. Ah, the old hags at my Go club were wondering for days—why she came back home all of the sudden. Poor girl. She looked so sad—you must’ve been the one to break her heart.”

Though the older woman meant to joke, Rin couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. Without a shred of his ego, he nodded.

“Do you know where I can find her?”

Even to this relative stranger, his desperation was palpable. The older woman chuckled, and lifting one bony finger, pointed down the road. “Her family owns an orchard. Nasty business it was. I’m old enough to remember—her father, what a bastard. He left her mother and moved to some town in the middle of nowhere. The poor woman—bless her heart—tried to keep it together for her family, but she also hightailed it out of here the moment her boy turned two. Only granny was left to take care of the both of them.”

Unaware of how this young man’s heart was leadened in both despair and grief for never knowing your story, she continued. “Eventually, the orchard was passed to the boy, and the girl—prettiest I’ve ever seen—went to the city to look for work. Honestly, everyone thought she would fail or come back home, belly swollen and heartbroken. But, she’s just fine. A little sad looking, but better than any of us expected.”

Rin clenched the flowers tighter in his grip, his heart rate tripling. “Thank you. For telling me—and for showing me where she is.” He bowed to this random kind angel, and the older woman looked absolutely delighted.

“Good luck finding her, young man. You look strong and sure. I think you could win her over.”

Rin sure hoped so, as well. Turning on his heel, he jogged down the cobblestone path, taking a left turn and finding himself in front of a fence. It was opened, and he pushed it slightly, stepping into plush greenery and tall, swaying plum trees. The air smelled ripe and sweet. Rin inhaled greedily, suddenly hyper aware of how this crisp scent was the same one lingering on your neck.

In the throes of his thoughts, he didn’t sense someone approaching him.

“You. Again.”

Rin never thought he would’ve been relieved to see your brother, but the second he heard Kenji’s voice, his shoulders sagged.

“Kenji-san. Is Y/N here?” Shamelessly, Rin looked at him eagerly. Kenji’s eyes fell on the bouquet in the other man’s grip. As much as he was debating if he should take this shovel and knock some common sense into this foolish athlete, Kenji hated to admit how much he admired Rin’s determination.

Wiping droplets of sweat from his brow, he placed the shovel down and shoved his gloved hands into his thick, windbreaker. “You’re never going to give up until you see her, are you?”

Rin had the decency to look sheepish. “I’ll be leaving for France soon. I really would like to see her again.”

Kenji’s expression was impassioned. “You’re going to get her hopes up. You should leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.”

But, Rin didn’t hear threats or ultimatums. He was only fixated on the goal of seeing you again.

“Please, Kenji-san.” Despite being younger than the striker, Kenji took one step back, thrown off by the sincerity in that honorific. “You will be doing me a huge favour if I could see her again. I would like to at least pass her these flowers.”

Kenji eyed the bouquet of lotuses again, remembering how you would hold a similar arrangement whenever you came back from the florist, all flushed and bright-eyed with satisfaction at your bargain. It was that single reminder of what happiness once looked like on your face which made Kenji reconsider.

“If she rejects you again, I have nothing more to say. She’s made her choice.”

It wasn’t a blessing, but it wasn’t a curse either. Kenji was merely stating the truth. With his heart in his throat, Rin nodded, and Kenji eventually let him go.

“She’s by the greenhouses. Just remember what I told you, Itoshi.”

Rin would never forget it; he would never forget your brother’s kindness in having this moment with you.

“I will,” he mumbled, teal eyes filled to the brim with hope. “Thank you… Kenji-san.”

The day was unusually cold.

Even a heat pack in your coat pockets couldn’t keep the numb chill from reaching your fingers, and you shivered, biting back on the urge to leave for the warm comforts of your home and abandon your idea of bathing Reina’s jizo in such conditions.

But, you preserved. If you were this cold, imagine what she must be feeling?

The woollen hat you knitted for her a month ago was placed lopsidedly on her dear, stony head. You chuckled a little, righting it when you sensed another presence behind you.

“Sorry, Kenji. I’m almost done, okay? I’ll help you rake up the roots later.”

Instead of your brother’s gruff tones, it was an unmistakable low rasp which sent a bolt of electricity down your spine.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the cold like this.”

You gingerly stood up, ignoring the burn in your thighs from crouching down for almost an hour. The tiny stone statue was hidden from her father’s sight, your hands clawing over the small pail. Frightfully, you wondered how he would react once he saw her—the hatred he must feel towards you for keeping her existence a secret till the very last dire minute.

Steadying your breathing, you exhaled, “How’d you find me?”

He was holding a bouquet of lotuses, you noted in shock. The pink blooms looked starkly out of place in an orchard starting to wither from the impending winter.

“Here.” With the grace of a little boy in church tasked to pass a lighted candle to a girl who always made him blush, Rin thrusted the bouquet underneath your nose. You set the pail down, taking it—unable to break the baffled silence.

The tips of his ears were red, and Rin shifted his gaze to the ground, struggling to find the right words. “I asked your brother. He told me you’d be here.” Summoning his courage, he looked you in the eye. “I meant what I asked yesterday—I want to help with your store. Take me on as an employee.”

You blinked. Your fingers were tingling, the cold settling into your bones. You wanted to stuff your hands into your coat pockets but they were curled around freezing stems. A part of you was unsure of where to look or how to best give light to the incredulity burning through your thoughts. “Don’t be silly. You have a career in football.”

“So?” he argued back, a furrow in his brow. “I would give it all up.” For you.

He didn’t add that last sentence. He didn’t have to.

You shifted from one foot to another. “No.” Your tired eyes met his, and you refused to be bowed by his determination. “Go home, Rin.” Exhausted, defeated. You wished he would leave you alone in your exile. Passing him the bouquet back, you softened your rejection with a frail, “Go home—go back to Tokyo.”

Rin had no choice but to take the flowers back with an uncertain look; his shoulders drooped, his eyes falling back to the ground. A loose leaf was shaken out of the arrangement, floating to the floor. He was silent for a few moments, before he said: “Come back to Tokyo.” With me.

Your heart squeezed. “And do what?” your whisper deepened the chasm between you two.

He swallowed. “Stay with me. I can get you a job. PXG needs more hands and you can start fresh and—”

“Rin,” your eyes welled with tears. “Stop. You know I don’t belong in Tokyo.” I don’t belong with you.

“Who said that?” he demanded, taking one step forward. “You belong there. You do.” You belong with me.

You shook your head, forcing a smile on your frozen lips. “I don’t,” your whisper sliced through his defiance, leaving him depleted of hope. “My life is here, with my brother and…” you hesitated, and his eyes flickered to the spot behind your calf.

He had noticed your biggest secret, his expression folding open in quiet disbelief.

It was useless to hide the truth, and you stepped aside, showing him the jizo statue of a little girl with a peaceful, smiling face and closed eyes. The pail of water and your nervous demeanour suddenly made sense.

“Is that…?”

His voice disappeared between incredulity and grief. Rin subconsciously took one step forward. You didn’t stop him and he took another until he was standing a foot away from you, absorbed in the tiny details of this stone statue believed to guide an unborn baby’s spirit and protect them in the afterlife. Assuming responsibility for the parents who had failed her in the real world.

The little cap you had made for her, the mittens that adorned her hands. Rin felt the lump in his throat thicken.

You were stricken with grief, nodding. Rin looked to you, and the anguish written on his face mirrored your own deep sorrow.

The both of you stared at the little stone statue—the baby girl conceived into the world betrayed by your own body and his deception.

Rin’s shoulders curved forward, as if to curl within his own self-hatred. Your haunted gaze touched the jizo, and you slowly got onto the ground, ignoring the cold to tuck your legs into a demure, side sitting position. Inviting him to join you with a simple nod. He sat next to you, cross-legged, fingers an inch away from your own.

Without looking to you for permission, Rin set the shunned bouquet right in front of her stony smile; all of his overwhelming love and your crippling regret with nowhere to go—except to a little girl who was painfully wanted by both her star-crossed parents only after she no longer existed.

You yearned to take his hand, hold it and reassure yourself that everything was okay. But, at the last second of your crumbling willpower, you shifted your hand further from his, rocking back.

Rin’s silence stretched on.

Above you, the trees rustled in the wind, branches clacking together. You began to shiver, and before you could protest, Rin’s arm came to wrap around you. Sharing his body heat together with you. Despite your reservations, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself be weak in this instance and cave into his embrace.

No words were shared. Both of your breaths were stuttered, and you swore you felt a tear trickle into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you don’t trust me, but I just want you to know… not a day goes by that I don’t regret everything.”

His watery eyes traced the statue’s serene face. You didn’t absolve him of his monstrosities, but neither did you want this moment to be over. So, you sighed brokenly and admitted the first thing that came into mind.

“I dream of her all the time, you know.”

His silence welcomed you to spill your sorrowful secrets into his waiting shoulder. “She’s always smiling. Laughing. She’s beautiful.”

Rin recalled the dream he had on the day where everything had gone wrong; of a little girl with sparkling teal eyes and an infectious giggle. He bowed his head forward, lips pressed into your hair. “I dreamt of her, too. Tiny. With my dark hair and eyes. And your smile.”

“Your eyes,” you echoed uselessly. “My smile.”

He kissed your temple again. “So beautiful.”

You fell into a thick disquiet. Rin rubbed your arm, giving you more of his heat.

“You should go back to Tokyo,” you started, squeezing your eyes shut and refusing to submit to the sobbing voice in the back of your mind begging for him to stay. “It’s where you belong.” When Rin didn’t say a single word, you continued. “Go to France. Win the World Cup. Be happy, Rin. Forget about everything that happened and start anew.”

Forget about me.

You didn’t add that last sentence. You didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to forget everything,” he began in a quiet voice, staring at the stone effigy of his lost daughter. “I don’t want to forget her.” Or, you.

“You won’t,” you replied simply, with more surety than he could’ve imagined. “She’s with us. Always.” Before you could stop yourself, you gently plucked one mitten from the statue’s hand and pressed it into his larger palm. “Take this. It’ll remind you of her.” And hopefully, me.

Rin shook his head, about to argue when you echoed an empty laugh. “I’ll make her a new one. I won’t leave her fingers cold—don’t worry.” This time, he couldn’t fight back the tears welling in his eyes, pressing the woven mit into his jacket pocket, wishing he could say something—anything—to change your mind.

But, he didn’t. He had said all he had to say.

Rin removed his arm and got back to his feet. Your face was hidden by your hair when you stood up, too. He scanned the area, looked back at the statue and then to you.

You were smiling, haunted and broken, but smiling, nonetheless. Even when you had suffered the most—even when you had left behind everything you held dear and lived a half-life in this tiny village. You still smiled, and for that, Itoshi Rin would never forgive himself.

“I’ll wait for you,” he blurted out. Your smile slipped and he hastened his words. “You need time, I understand. I can wait for a few years. Or, a year, if you want to speed things up.”

His lame attempt at a joke made you chuckle weakly. “Rin—”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said quietly. Your wide eyes latched onto him, whether with fear or admiration, he did not know. “It will take a lot to get me to forget you, L/N Y/N. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t give you a chance to destroy his hopes. Rin walked away, head bent low and hands in his pockets, fiddling with the tiny mitten you had gifted him.

Rin tightened his grip on the piece of cloth. There were just some things a person can never push out of their mind no matter how hard they tried. It would linger in their memories, burying into their subconscious. Embedded in their every breath and thought. Like a comet.

You were a comet in his short life, brilliant and streaking his sky with every shade of colour, Rin feared that if he took his eyes off you, his life would go back to black and white.

The young man meant what he said.

He could never forget you.

Not ever in his lifetime.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate and share to other sites.

#🦢 writes #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #itoshi brothers #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock angst #bllk rin #bllk angst #itoshi rin angst

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celtigxr · 3 months ago

Text

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. iv: unforgiven

Chapter Summary: The dinner with the reunited families goes about as well as everyone thought it would.

Word Count: 3703

Sneak Peak: “Oh, shit,” Aegon spoke into the rim of his cup, a wide grin upon his face. Floris choked, forcing Clement to pat her on the back. Shyla gasped, then promptly hid her mouth with her hands. “Valeana,” Arthor hissed at her, though it fell on deaf ears.

Warnings: None, i think. Language, I suppose, lol.

T H E R E D S

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Valeana never hated her step sister more than that very moment when they gathered around the table. Floris bumped into her shoulder to take her place at Clement’s right before Val could get there. By all rights, as Bartimos’ second child, she should have sat next to her brother, but Floris was always adamant that the order of things go by age, and that she was Bartimos’s eldest daughter, not Valeana.

Floris has always been a shrew, but her attitude had soured with age. She had become more entitled and frequently bullied her sisters to do what she wanted them to do. Shyla was far too fragile to disobey, and Val picked her battles. Sometimes the headache wasn’t worth the effort.

Valeana bit her tongue as she descended into her chair, forcing herself to keep her head down, gaze away from the man across from her. Which was difficult. All her effort was put into the muscles of her neck and face, willing herself to be as close to a statue as humanly possible. Her cheek faced Aemond while she pretended to listen to the King’s toasts. From the corner of her eye, she could see him openly staring, only breaking when his father stood up to toast to forgiveness.

That was when Valeana looked at Aemond without fear of eye contact. How could he, when she now faced the side of his face that was marred and sightless. A pity, a small voice said in the back of her mind. He had such pretty lilac eyes. He still had that regal profile, though, with that strong jawline and aquiline nose. He still had those sharp bow-shaped lips. The softness of his boyishness long gone, replaced by chiseled cheekbones and sharp edges. He reminded Valeana of the tip of a sword. Proud, regal, dangerous, lethal. Unlike a sword, Val had the intrusive desire to run her tongue down the slope of his jawline.

Cursing herself, she tore her eyes away.

As more food was placed upon the table, conversations took place. The adults conversed in pleasantries filled with nostalgia, and the youth exchanged awkward glances, pretending to pay attention to what they were talking about.

Until the silence was finally broken.

“Sunfyre must be very big now, Prince Aegon,” Shyla craned her neck to find the prince in question. “I remember when he was the size of a horse.”

Aegon’s ears perked up at the mention of his dragon; it was clear that the beast was his greatest pride.

Still chewing on a roll, Aegon replied, “Oh yeth,” he took a cup of wine and drank down his morsel. “He’s gotten quite large. Big enough to fly two in his saddle.”

Shyla’s face lit up like the Grand Sept on Maiden’s Day, though Valeana was the only one who really caught it. She knew exactly how her sister perceived his words: she believed that Aegon was offering her a ride on Sunfyre.

Valeana remembers Aegon threatening to set her on fire once, because she wouldn’t stop asking to come to the Dragon Pit. They were never allowed, not even with Helaena, who’s dragon, Dreamfyre, was already domesticated and well trained. The Dragonkeepers wouldn’t allow it, and neither did their father.

“If that were true, then I’d imagine Vhagar could seat double,” Surprisingly, it was Arthor who spoke. Val wasn’t used to her youngest sibling speaking when the crowd was more than three. However, he had always been fascinated by dragons, ever since he saw the Cannibal flying around Crackclaw point.

The black wild dragon was an island regular, being so close to Dragonstone where his cave was located. When Valeana sequestered herself in her room, she would spend hours on her balcony, watching him, imagining herself being the only person alive that could claim him. The Cannibal, the wildest, largest, and dangerous of dragons alive. No one even knew how old he was, or where he came from, or how he ended up feasting on his own kind, and that made the creature all the more interesting to her.

Though she did not have the blood of the dragon, and so she kept her fascinations to herself.

Aemond turned to the young Celtigar, his smirk like coiling ribbon, “Vhagar is as mighty as her size, but I would not say she could seat four and still fly unimpeded. Three at most, I would say.”

For the first time since they arrived, Arthor smiled, “That is still impressive. I should like to see her, if it is not too much trouble.”

“I would not get your hopes up, brother,” Valeana found herself talking despite her unofficial vow of silence. Her eyes never left her plate as she cut her venison in bite size pieces, “The Dragonpit is reserved for dragonriders and their keepers.”

There was a moment of surprised silence before Aemond spoke, “Vhagar is far too big for the Dragonpit. So, to answer your question, Arthor, it would not be too much trouble, if we find the time.”

Valeana still hadn’t looked up from her food.

“Would you care to join us, Valeana?”

She froze, fork hovering over her plate, halfway to her lips. This was the first time he had said her name in ten years, at least in her presence. The first time he directly acknowledged her. There was a strained aura at their end of the table, one that the adults weren’t paying attention to.

“It can be quite daunting to be in the shadow of a beast of Conquest, but Vhagar is quite loyal to me. You will be safe under my supervision,” He continued when his question went unanswered.

Val hummed, and her body unfroze like a ship at full canvas when the rush of wind from an upcoming storm pushed it into life. No, she couldn’t help herself… Her mouth was already open, tongue sharp like an arrowhead.

“Am I? Forgive me my skepticism, Prince Aemond, but the last time I stood near you, I nearly lost my life. I do not trust you near a flight of stairs, let alone a dragon,” this time she looked directly at him, her sentence punctuated by how she put the food in her mouth. Her teeth sliding against the metal utensil as she pulled the morsel free.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon spoke into the rim of his cup, a wide grin upon his face.

Floris choked, forcing Clement to pat her on the back.

Shyla gasped, then promptly hid her mouth with her hands.

“Valeana,” Arthor hissed at her, though it fell on deaf ears.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he tried to hold her venomous gaze, but ultimately failed. He turned his cheek to her, directing his attention to his cup instead.

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be,” His voice seemed softer, as if defeated or tired. “This is the season of peacemaking, is it not?”

Valeana couldn’t stop her eye roll, and when she did, she spotted the heated glare Floris was giving her.

Be. Nice. She mouthed.

No. Val mouthed back.

Floris cleared her throat, “Right you are, Prince Aemond. I have many fond memories of our shared youth.”

“Mhm,” Valeana nodded sarcastically as she viciously cut a carrot in half, “Like that one day when Aegon told you he had a present waiting for you in a room, and you foolishly opened a water closet while Septa Jeyne was–”

“-- I remember no such thing,” Floris was quick to shake her head, her hands making quick work of the meat on her plate.

"I do!" Aegon giggled into his cup. "I'll never forget Septa Jeyne's face," Aegon mimicked the old woman's look of shock, a silent scream on his tongue.

Floris' face was as red as the wine in her goblet that she tried to hide in.

Aegon continued, pointing at Valeana, "Do you remember when I stole one of Helaena's bugs and put it down the back of your gown?"

"Vividly," Val's tone dripped with cynicism as she side-eyed her sister, "Such fond, fond memories."

Helaena had a pained expression on her face as she turned to her brother, "The one with the many legs? I was looking for that bug for days. I cried, Aegon, remember?"

Her brother's face dropped, and something akin to shame replaced the mischievous expression, "I-- Helaena... You had so many-- It was only a bug--"

"Do you still collect insects, Princess?" Valeana decided to alter the direction of the conversation, saving Aegon from an awkward non-apology, and from Helaena having to endure it.

The Princess turned away from her brother, her features changing to something less pained, and more content. Val had clear memories of the princess being so far removed from her brothers, it was difficult to see how they were related if she did not consider her features. Though their shared memories together were limited to embroidery, since Helaena seldom left her areas of comfort, and the Celtigar girls had no taste for remaining in the same rooms from dusk to dawn. Shyla and Floris in particular couldn't stand being around the many-legged creatures that Helaena loved so dearly. Valeana had no opinion of it; she knew she didn't care for insects enough to handle them with her own hands, but she had always watched the princess from a careful distance with Queen Alicent.

She nodded, a smile showing her pride on it, "I do. One of my spiders had recently mated and made an egg sack."

Shyla made a horrified face.

"Y'know, Clement sails quite frequently to Pentos. He has seen quite exotic ones you may be interested in."

That got Helaena's attention, based on how her spine straightened and her knife and fork were forgotten, "Oh?"

Clement looked up at her, and offered her the small smile, "Uh, yes, Princess. Though, I did not know you were fond of such creatures, otherwise I would have brought one with me."

Helaena asked what was the most interesting ones he had found, and the conversation went on like that between the two. With the attention moved off of her, Valeana turned back to her food and ate silently. The minutes went by with nothing of interest being said; Aemond talked more than Valeana, though only to answer questions by the others (sans Clement) and Val was resolute in not looking at him when he talked. It wasn't until the King's voice reached their end of the table that she looked up from her emptying plate.

"Tell me, ladies, do you still sing? This old Keep was desperately missing the beautiful voices of the Celtigar girls."

Bartimos chuckled into the handkerchief as he wiped his mouth, "Oh yes, there is nothing like the song of the Sirens of Claw Isle. Girls, why don't you give us one or two?"

"Of course, papa!" Shyla stood up immediately, grin broad and eager.

“It would be an honour to perform for His Grace, and his family,” Floris replied demurely.

Valeana straightened in her seat, and her mouth went dry when she turned to her father, a slight panic in her words as she spoke.

“My lute is still packed with my belongings.”

Bartimos opened his mouth, but Viserys spoke before he could, “That’s quite alright, my dear. Your voice is instrument enough.”

Sensing his daughter’s unease, Barty adjusted himself in the chair to look at the king, “Apologies, your Grace. Valeana— She no longer performs with her voice, you see. She has turned to the strings for her music.”

“No?” It was the Queen who spoke, delicate brow furrowing as she looked over at the girl in question, “Why is that, my dear? I remember you had quite a strong voice for a girl so small.”

Valeana caught the smirk twitching at the end of Aegon’s lip from the word ‘small’, and the two caught each other’s eye. He was lucky he was so far away from her, because she had no qualms making sure he would not be able to sire heirs with a swift kick with the point of her shoe.

“Womanhood had robbed me of the skill, your Grace,” Valeana replied, then cleared her throat, still feeling it dry. Her voice failed her in talking as well, it seemed. “My voice lowered, and I could no longer hold the same notes as my sisters.”

It was a partial lie; the truth of the matter was that she lost her confidence. After the years she spent isolated, she seldom talked, and singing felt like a language she no longer understood. She only ever hummed and sang lowly and idly by herself in the privacy of her bedchambers, and even then she would cringe at the way her voice would crack when she attempted high notes that she once was able to do.

“My sisters are still lovely as always, your Grace.”

“Well, I shall like to hear you play the lute on another date then, my dear,” The King smiled kindly.

“She’s quite good!” Ursula boasted, “I personally love when she plays the lyre – puts me right to sleep!”

“Ahem,” Floris cleared her throat. She's on her feet, Shyla already on her heels, “May we begin?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” Ursula turned around in her seat to watch her daughters. “Please.”

T H E G R E E N S

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The dinner with the Celtigars was as painful as Aemond suspected. For once, he allowed his pride to step aside and try to make amends with Valeana, as a favour for his father. He had expected more indifference, or meek politeness. He did not, however, expect confrontation coming from little Valeana. That was a new development. The Valeana he remembered was polite, kind, and while she had a quick tongue to retort, it was usually to be playful or humourous. Before the incident, she often forgave Aemond for his tardiness, or when he ignored her while he was around his brother and nephews. She didn’t even put up a fight when she was the butt-end of Aegon’s jests and pranks.

“I do not trust you near a flight of stairs, let alone a dragon.”

Aemond wasn’t sure why, but that sentence felt like a gauntlet punch to his gut. Had anyone else said it, he would silently agree to it, because he wanted people to fear him. One could never trust Aemond next to Vhagar – one could not fully trust Vhagar, truly. His promise to Arthor was empty; he had no intention of letting the boy within a tourney’s field distance to the near two century old she-dragon. However, had Valeana agreed, he might have made an exception, because what greater way for him to make amends than to allow her to touch the largest dragon in the world? His dragon.

He remembered how much she longed to touch one, almost as much as he did, but was denied even to be an audience member to dragon training in the pit.

The rejection was one thing, but if Aemond was honest with himself, it was the realization of the consequences of his crime that bothered him so. As a child, he selfishly justified his actions, in all things, not just with Valeana. He justified him claiming Vhagar, he justified him calling his nephews bastards, and he justified pushing Val away from him that day. It was all self-preservation, and at the time it benefited him. He got Vhagar, he got respect, he got fear, and he got away from the overbearing friendship of Valeana Celtigar. It burdened him, and held him back. When Bartimos left King’s Landing, Aemond’s life had changed for the better. He might’ve lost an eye, and he might’ve lost a friendship, but he gained so much more.

Except… he lost a friendship. It did not occur to him how important that was until he realized it was truly gone for good.

Because she could no longer trust him. And the confirmation from her own mouth felt like he was finally facing the corpse of someone he didn’t realize was dead.

The rest of dinner went on in monotonous torture. Floris, Shyla, and Arthor respectfully tried to carry small talk with him, Helaena and Aegon as if nothing happened. Valeana remained quiet through it all, her eyes moving around him as if he was simply not there. It infuriated him. Aemond found himself staring at the crest of her head or her turned cheek, mentally chanting: look at me, look at me, look at me.

He was dead to her. A ghost she could no longer feel or see. It was a worse feeling than being disemboweled by her resentful sharp tongue and teeth. And Aemond absolutely hated her for it.

"Tell me, ladies, do you still sing? This old Keep was desperately missing the beautiful voices of the Celtigar girls,” His father asked, and Aemond and Aegon shared a look that communicated the same thing.

Seven Hells, no this shit again.

The Sirens of Claw Isle as they were known to be called, became somewhat of an annoyance for the boys growing up. There wasn’t a feast where they weren’t encouraged to sing bard songs until all departed for the night. They had lovely voices, but to Aegon, Aemond, and even Jace and Luke, it was like listening to the excessive chirping of birds at the crack of dawn. Granted, at the time, Aemond only ever soldiered through it just to hear Valeana sing. Her voice had a way of echoing through the tall ceilings and down corridors, holding onto notes longer than her sisters. It was almost haunting.

“...She no longer performs with her voice, you see. She has turned to the strings for her music.”

At this, Aemond tilted his head and examined Valeana as she explained herself. Her neck, cheeks, and tip of her ears got a tinge of pink. She was embarrassed…or ashamed?

Curious…

Perhaps there was a gap in her armour after all.

A part of him was slightly disappointed.

After a rather ear-bleeding rendition of “The Maids that Bloom in Spring”, supper finally ended. When his father stood, so did everyone else. The King bid a good night, not without giving Bartimos a hug, a handshake to the Celtigar sons, and kisses on the cheeks of the girls. His mother did the same, leaving when the King made his exit. Soon Otto, Bartimos, and Ursula followed suit.

As the group filtered out of the Small Hall, making their way back to the Holdfast, Aemond lingered at the tail. Clement was still conversing with Helaena about Pentos, which reminded him of how his grandsire suggested that the King may match the two. Seeing how the two easily conversed, the possibility seemed far more plausible than her thought.

Valeana was a step behind them, walking alongside Arthor who examined the statues and tapestries they passed by. Floris had Shyla’s arm clutched in hers, and it was painfully evident that the younger girl was trying to free herself so she may crowd around Aegon.

Aegon, who was also trying to put distance between him and the eager girl, fell into step next to his brother.

“Well, that went splendidly,” Aegon said once there is enough distance between them and the others ahead. “I half expected her to take out your other eye.”

Aemond sighed heavily through his nose, attention set straight ahead of him, “I am sure she thought of it. She loathes me.”

“Can you blame her,” Aegon’s attention was on Shyla, who was craning her neck over her shoulder to catch a glimpse at him. Aegon wiggled his fingers at her, granting him a large, gummy grin.

“Father wishes me to reconcile,” Aemond ignores Shyla and instead watches the back of Val’s head. “But he asks for the impossible. She barely looks at me, and when she does…”

“Oh, I am aware, dear brother, it has become the source of my entertainment this evening.”

“I am glad my misery has been that for you, brother.”

Aegon turned to him, his eyebrow raised curiously, the corner of his lips upturned, “Does it cause you misery, Aemond? That she despises you?”

Aemond stopped walking to glare at him, his hands like stiff tree trunks at his sides. Aegon slowed to a stop in front of him, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

“That farce of a supper was miserable. Why would she cause me any other emotion other than apathy? She is a stranger to me.”

“She was your friend once, if I recall,” Aegon folded his arms over his chest, and relaxed his leg to stand casually. “And your betrothed.”

“It was not a friendship,” Aemond lied through his teeth, “None of us were friends with the sisters. We hated them, do you recall?”

“Oh, I recall Luke, Jace, and I hating them quite a bit. But I also remember you and Val exchanging love notes.”

“They were not–” Aemond stopped himself, moving a hand over his face and sighing through his nose again. “She clung to me like pollen to a bee. It was annoying, it was overbearing, it was too much.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes at his brother skeptically, but he then quickly shrugged, accepting his words. “Fine, she fancied you a bit too much. Does it bother you that she doesn’t anymore? I bet it bruises your ego… Maybe it’s,” he waved a hand around his eyepatch, “Maybe it’s the eye. You’re half as handsome now–Ouf.”

With a rough slam with his shoulder, Aemond pushed through Aegon with the force of his step. As his back faced his brother, Aegon started to giggle madly behind him.

Echoes of oinks and kissy noises reverberated in Aemond’s memory.

“Well, if you feel nothing but apathy towards her, then mayhaps I should try courting her?” Aegon started to stride towards him, keeping up with his pace. “It would make father happy, uniting the Valyrian houses and all that noise.”

“You’re free to try, brother,” Aemond replied, voice clipped and dismissive. Valeana would never consider Aegon. She would never entertain the idea. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Wasn’t it?

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos

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