#so it would make sense for him to become king! that's his dream: recognition as he finally stands side-by-side with shanks. equals at last

[allthatmay]

So, today my husband said, "Some people think Shanks is a radial leftist, but I think he's the most centrist character in the show. Dragon fills the role of the radial leftist/anarchist that people often attribute to Shanks."

And, huh, yeah. People do often talk about Shanks like he's an anarchist, but he's really not. I've always said that Shanks is a mediator, keeping a tentative peace between the pirate tribes and the government until the time comes wherein the One Piece can be claimed and the mysterious consequences can happen, but that means he is effectively playing the part of a centrist—straddling the fence, as it were. The key difference, I think, is that Shanks knows for certain that change is coming in the form of a rubber deity, and he is trying to guide it into place. All his work is done behind the scenes with very little violence if he can help it.

Now, it's easy to assume that Shanks' plans involve the complete dissolution of the government as it presently stands; that he is simply using his power & influence to mitigate harm for the many until the "real fight" can begin (and, with him having recently decided to chase the One Piece, now it has), but that might not be the case (and, even if it is the case, a lot of centrists use "mitigating harm for the many" as a reason not to take action against some truly heinous acts). The reality may be that Shanks doesn't see the need for the total collapse of the government, or perhaps he knows something about it that we don't (i.e. because he might be of Celestial Dragon blood). I don't really believe this is the case because, as far as I'm aware, Shanks hasn't ever shown any real support for the World Gov but he has shown, time and time again, that he believes in dreams, in people's personal willpower, and in the ability of anyone to become strong and change the future. But the truth is that we can't know his intentions for certain without Oda giving us more information, so my husband's assertion that Shanks is a centrist makes some sense.

In particular, Luffy is what makes this theory interesting: slap him in between Dragon and Shanks, and there's a very real dichotomy between the two "fathers" in his life. See, Luffy idolises Shanks and thinks of him similarly to a father, but he might realise as time goes on that he can't be like Shanks; he might realise that Shanks' ideals will only carry him so far. After all, what good is it to be a pacifistic when your enemy is a powerful government that is comfortable with mass murder?

(My rebuttal is that Luffy is the only one who can be like Shanks. He is effectively Shanks' dream: Shanks wants to be strong enough to do all the work himself, to suffer all the pain himself, and while he is one of the strongest men in the world, he simply can't do that; what he can do is only achievable through the support he has at his side. Meanwhile, Luffy has close support in his crew, and he has the Gum-Gum Fruit! He can literally become a godlike figure and shape the world around him! He can do everything that Shanks wants and needs and, as sure as I am that Shanks wishes he could have done it himself—I'm thinking back to his days with Roger here—he knows that it was never meant to be him.)

This is where Dragon comes in. Dragon, in direct contrast to Shanks, uses violence as a tool whenever he can. He's all about the greater good, for lack of a better term. His thinking is along the lines of, "People are suffering now and we can help, and we have no qualms in forcibly dismantling a government that uses slavery, genocide, and imprisonment to control its populace. We don't wait for the right time to act, we simply act." Do I think Shanks would approve of Dragon's goals? Yes. Do I think he would approve of Dragon's means in achieving those goals? No, but mostly because Shanks is very self-sacrificial and tries to take whatever suffering is necessary for change onto himself, relying only on his small, personal crew, whereas Dragon is happy to let other people martyr themselves for the rebel cause. He lets a small, amnesiac child join them, for crying out loud—something Shanks would never do, not even if the child proved very capable.

If anything is to come from this difference of ideals, I think it's that Luffy will learn from both of them and find his own way to the One Piece and into the world waiting beyond. Why? Well, because Luffy is all about freedom, and no one on the side of Dragon or Shanks is truly free. As for the world itself, it's hard to predict what will happen after Luffy's done with it because it's pretty dependent on Oda's philosophy. For instance, Oda seems to approve of monarchies, which is not something I would personally imagine remaining in a world without a governing body—but, hey, what do I know?

Of course, we all know that the true centrist in the show is undeniably Garp. He will let real, undeniable harm befall those he cares about in order to maintain the status quo, or to stop the government from toppling because [gasp] that would be the worst thing ever! He's a man who believes the government is essential and joins up in order to change it from the inside, only to fall short of his own expectations because he won't stand up when it matters most. Not even for the sake of his beloved grandson.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

/ book 7 spoilers

*politely grabs you by your shoulders* UEUEUEUJQKXNkxnsnnanzndnsmsmfmdmsmdm

hello... sorry... Leona rant... the guys theorizing that Kifaji stops Leona in his dream bc deeply he'd wish for someone to stop him... i think im going to cry. i wonder if him being such a bad king in his dream has to do with his own feelings- meaning he doesn't believe he'd be a good king? Idia explained that maybe Leona purposefully chose his dream to play out in a more realistic way, which would mean having consequences and such... even if it would be painful, he still went with it...

I think you had a post about this iirc, but this rlly pushes me to further believe that what Leona craves is valid recognition— people recognizing him for who he is and what he does, not idolizing him, just valuing him genuinely. I think there in reality he craves more that than the "king" title specifically— that's why the scene where Jack says that "he's not your (the shadows) king, he's our DORM LEADER" felt so special to me, bc Jack is doing exactly that. he's valuing him for being his dorm leader, a title Leona earned for himself. I think that ultimately that'd be more valuable for him than the king title itself, since one "is born" to fulfill that goal (and the whole reason he isn't king is because he was born second, again, things out of his control—) I think that's why this dream Leona isn't satisfied w having become king, bc at the end of the day he only got there bc Falena/Cheka died here. Some people theorize he pulled Scar tactics in the dream, but regardless of that, I don't think the "nature" of the position itself would satisfy his need to be seen, to be genuinely valued. BC WHAT HE CRAVES IS NOT *JUST* TO BE KING, IT'S TO BE RESPECTED FOR THE THINGS HE ACCOMPLISHED... also more proof that if he wants to help out in his country he needs to do it alongside Falena's ideals, bc apparently the only good thing his reign brought in his dream was... no more inflation 😭😭😭 which is good (guy who lives somewhere with too much inflation), but I mean... I think I'd prefer still having nature 😭😭😭

ALSO... and the way he SACRIFICES HIMSELF for Ruggie... AND THROWS HIMSELF TO THE DARKNESS... also his confrontation w his overblot feels much more... depressing? than the others'? ☹️ And and and... The line about him deciding the place he'll live in... ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ I'm in tears. Pls help.

and at the end he DID know he was dreaming, and he also suspected it before being 100% sure. so I guess our prediction was kind of right 😭

also UHM. THE OUTFIT??? AHHH URNWKDNFKSNSKSKKDKjfjwnnzdn sorry it's. the least important thing of what I wanted to say but he lOOKS SO PERFECT AHHH

[My full thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update here!]

*is grabbed out of nowhere* 🧍‍♂️

NO BECAUSE I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THING... dream!Kifaji is the only NPC/darkness in the dreams that didn't aggro and attack us 😭 In fact, he actively protects us and begs Leona to "wake up", continuously acting as the voice of reason the entire time... AND THEN SMILING AT THE END AND PRAISING "HIS KING" WHEN LEONA FINALLY FULLY WAKES UP... I feel like that definitely is not a happy coincidence. Deep down... some part of Leona's subconscious might have realized something was wrong, and maybe that manifested as Kifaji, the one person in his memories that could stand up to him. Not just because Kifaji is a stubborn old guy (although he is), not because he seems to be a competent mage, but because he must have been Leona's one and only friend and guardian growing up in the palace where the servants always shit talked him and compared him to his older brother. He raised Leona. He played with Leona. He encouraged Leona when his prince didn't believe in himself. He tried so hard to keep Leona from straying. He sees the goodness in Leona. He knows how intelligent Leona can be and how this can save their country. It makes total sense that Kifaji would be the form Leona's conscience assumes.

I feel like dream!Kifaji could also represent... that last shred of hope that Leona has for himself 💀 As late as book 6 of the main story, Leona states that Jamil isn't like him, hinting that while he believes Jamil has the capacity to change and be a better person, he doesn't have that same faith for himself. AND MAN, THAT SHIT WAS HEARTBREAKING OTL Then, entering his dream in book 7, we see just how deep that despair truly runs. Malleus promised everyone happy dreams, didn't he? And Leona has theoretically been given everything he has supposedly ever wanted. The crown, his kingdom, the power to enact all of the policies and laws he believes would benefit his people, wealth for his country, etc. But that has bled the country of its resources, made the people resent him--and he's still left bitter and unfulfilled, alone in the palace. This isn't what happiness truly looks like, but it sadly might be what Leona believes Sunset Savanna is destined for if he's left in charge of it. (Idia likens the dream to a sandbox game, and Leona, being the owner of it, decided to play it "realistically".) He can only become king if the rest of his family dies or goes missing. (This is even more morbid if you believe the headcanon that Leona committed fratricide and murdered/convinced Cheka to run away.) He'll achieve his goals, but at the cost of isolating himself and making himself a pariah. He and his people will starve to death. Everything he touches will crumble into sand. That's all he and his unique magic are good for, anyway. Destroying things, never creating or building them. AND HE STILL CONTINUES TO EXIST IN THIS WASTELAND, ACTING LIKE HE'S IN THE RIGHT AND LIVING IN DENIAL THAT ANY OF THIS IS HIS FAULT... while Kifaji, his conscience, his hope, is right there trying to get him to see reason.

Leona's dream was such a shock to see right after Jack and Ruggie's. The contrast between how he views himself and his rule vs how his dorm members see him and his rule is like NIGHT AND DAY. You got Jack here thinking of Leona as an upstanding and honorable dorm leader and team captain and Ruggie who dreams of a Leona who graduates and betters the lives of the entire country and the less fortunate by building schools and establishing magift/spelldrive clubs (which enhance Sunset Savanna's soft power). Then you have... whatever hellscape Leona has conjured up 😭 It's so sad that Leona pictured RUGGIE as being one of his most devoted haters too. Yeah, Ruggie sometimes complains about Leona running him ragged and how rich people have it easy compared to him, but Ruggie has never expressed this level of vitriol towards Leona before... yet in his own darn dream, Leona believes Ruggie would HATE him and try to overthrow him when that couldn’t be further from the truth. In Ruggie’s dream, he hasn’t even MET Leona before but still looks up to him for what he has accomplished and done to help the poor and the downtrodded 😭

I have mentioned before that I don't believe Leona needs to become an actual king in order to be happy (that post here!), and I think this most recent update proved my point. Jack points it out to us (in case we didn't already put together) that Leona is still miserable in spite of being gifted the crown and kingdom. Leona is still not satisfied. Even if he becomes king, he won't be satisfied. Even if he obtains everything he wants, he won't feel fulfilled. Never, ever, ever. AND THAT MAKES SENSE, because what Leona REALLY wanted all along wasn't the crown but the acknowledgement of his skills and talents... "proof" of his worth as an individual. I feel like the word "king" is thrown around a lot in regards to Leona, both in fandom and within his own dorm (Ruggie, Jack, etc. refer to him as their "king" quite often). However, it's not "king" that holds weight to Leona... it's everything that comes associated with the title. Respect, validation, love. These are all the things Leona got so little of as a child, which is why he fixates on them now. He has even expressed that he doesn't value the title of king if you didn't earn that title to begin with, which just goes to show that he wants to be able to prove himself and be seen for it. AND THE SAVANACLAW STUDENTS DO, AAAAAAAHHHAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHhHhhhHhhhhh OTL JUST LIKE JACK SAID, HE'S THEIR DORM LEADER...

As dark as Leona's dream was, I appreciate it a lot for its realistic depiction of... Leona's worse tendencies... along with a potential future under his command. I often see people claiming that Leona would be a far better ruler for Sunset Savanna than Falena is. And to that, well... I'd say look at Leona's dream and some of the points brought up in it. I don't think his rule would be as terrible as what we see in the dream, HOWEVER. The dream mentions many shortcomings of Leona as a ruler, such as disregarding traditions and refusing to listen to advisors and input from the people. This would naturally make him unpopular with the country he serves, and it certainly doesn't help that he is not amicable either. These are only a few points I brought up in my extensive post comparing Leona and Falena's ruling styles, which I would highly recommend reading. I want to stress that I am in no way saying Leona would be a bad ruler. I believe that he and Falena compensate for each other's weaknesses. This is why I feel that the best solution isn't a blanket "X brother would be better than Y brother!", but rather that they should work as a team and make the best use of each other's strengths.

adfaiifvifiaef efoubfia LEONA SACRIFICING HIMSELF FOR RUGGIE I PRETTY MUCH SAW COMING 😭 Bro had to do something to make up for almost sanding him in book 2...

I really glossed over Leona's big confrontation with his Phantom in my initial reaction post, so I'd like to take the time to comment more on it here. A lot of what Leona tells his Phantom I felt was also the kind of advice he gave Jamil in book 6 (which only further reinforces the idea that he had hope for Jamil but not for himself). He dislikes people who complain about their situation but do nothing to change the circumstances... ALL TRUE OF BOTH HIM AND JAMIL. I think what makes Leona’s confrontation so different from the others we’ve seen so far is that while the others are more triumphant/telling the Phantoms how they’ve grown… Leona’s is sort of resigned? Like he still sees his negative traits (his pride, his underhandedness, etc.) and talks about how he has changed as a person but he also admits that this is his fault, that this bitterness and desire to be king will always remain will him. That’s fine—because Leona tells that darkness within himself that he’ll accept it too. (Jack does the same; his senpai are pretty awful but he chooses to accept them as they are.) I really loved that Leona swore to himself he’ll find his own throne and country… “Someday, for sure…!” It feels so hopeful after all that depressing stuff 😢 Reclaiming bis autonomy… Weh…………

asdbihabidbasdsa I still wish they had done a little more with Leona “knowing” it was a dream... Maybe making that "Kifaji is that part of Leona" more obvious or clearly stated because I feel like it could sail over people's heads? It might have also been interesting to see the blot try to suppress him like he's a feral beast that has to be kept under control 😔

DB SDABILASFIADFIAF tHAT DFUCKIBG SJHFBLADAD KING!L*ONa OUTFIT OTL TRHIS SI WHAT A MAN IN A SUIT IWiTH A HLAF CAPE THING AND SLICKED BACK HAIR DOES TO MEDFSKNLABIDBFIABIPEAFFQEIPYIBEUOF8TQEVOpfSBPsnjg 26871t9mg9qepgpeqomp9qvda bipivpada iegi THE EyE LOOK TOO ASDBLABSDSFIAFDI IT'S SCO CUn T Y AKJFHLBADGLBIHAGEIHGABIADGILBHWHICH IS REALLY WEIR FOR ME TO SAY ECUASE I USUALYL THINK THESE KINDS O EYE LOOKS ARE WAY TOO MUCH... . . ..... . . ........ . . .. . AnD TGE ExPOSED fOREHEADvv???!?!!!!!? HELLO ???!!!!!’mmcnNCCCVvV,cvvv???!!!!’nxhVahahshjwhzttTyqhwiau iTm anBEHGinG TO BE k!ssrd TOYcHEDF 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

THIS RICH BITCH IS OVER HERE IN A FANCY SU i TS 4 GOLD NECKLACES AND 3 RINGS WHILE HIS PEOPLE STARVE??????? DAMN NO WONDER WHY THEY WANNA EAT TH E RICH.

Side note: a friend pointed out that Leona's coat is basically a reused Octavinelle dorm uniform asset and, after checking... yeah, it basically is 😭 NOT THAT THERE'S ANYHTING WRONG WIH THAT, I just find it ironic because (in my own pseudo-lore) it reads like him trying so hard to be like J word and get my attention 💀💀💀 I AM AFRAID HE ATE AND LEFT NOC RUBMSN....

[mad4india1]

This India’s Got Talent Fame Was Lost In The Fumes Of Time, But He Stuck With His Passion Of Dancing & Reinvented Himself As The Ghoomar King Of Rajasthan

The team at MAD4INDIA has always worked hard to deliver our readers the most incredible content possible, and today we have brought you the tale of “THE MAN WHO DO THE GHOOMAR” This story is about passion, rejection, lost identity, but never giving up.

The protagonist of today’s tale is a Ghoomar dancer who loves to flaunt his skills & heritage. This is a story about success in the face of adversity. A man who triumphed on the most prestigious reality show in the country but wandered aimlessly without a job or a sense of direction after it. The protagonist of this tale takes the path less travelled but found his true purpose.

Expecting the Extraordinary From The Mundane

The most astonishing tales begin with the most mundane of lives. Ajit Singh Tanwar was just a regular youngster from a humble Rajput Rajasthani family belonging to a hamlet called Mawanda Kalan, Rajasthan.

The ups and downs of college life are something we all experience. Inspiring hope and a new generation’s desire to accomplish something different. Even Ajit had a dream that was out of the ordinary for him and his family. In his mind, the possibility of becoming a skilled dancer began to take shape when he was in college. Ajit found pleasure in moving to the beats of hip-hop songs. He started participating in various college events and started getting recognition for his mind-blowing moves.

It was also at this period that the craze for reality television shows peaked. Ajit, eager to try his luck as a performer, also entered an audition for the hit TV programme Dance India Dance 2.

Real life is seldom as simple or dramatic as films make it seem. The auditions made it clear to Ajit that achieving his goals would be difficult. He failed in the auditions, but even with failure the desire to one day perform on TV grew stronger.

https://i0.wp.com/mad4india.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/PC.-INSTAGRAM-5.png?w=1060&ssl=1

Chalti Ka Nam Zindagi

It’s challenging to face early-career rejection and an unsupportive family for your passion, but I believe that’s what makes the community of Articians in India so resilient. Ajit was unwavering in his convictions. Ajit had clear notions about how he wanted to live his life. He continued to feed his passion for dancing with the compliments he got even after his father disapproved of his career choice.

Dance India Dance 3’s success, though, gave him reason to be optimistic about the future. He made it to the Mega Auditions for the dancing reality show of his dreams, it was time for him to make his fantasies a reality.

Yet with the hope of success and rebellion in his heart, Ajit decided to go for the Mega Audition but got rejected. This was a setback for him but not for his dreamer’s heart. By now it became very clear to him that if not dance nothing else will ever work for him. Like a lion, he took 2 steps back to attack with more strength.

He didn’t let anything get in the way of his dream of winning a dancing reality show, and two years later, he became a shining celebrity. India’s Got Talent’s semi-finalist, Ajit Singh Tanwar, wowed the world.

What More Can A Celebrity Ask For?

Even after becoming the semi-finalist of one of the most famous shows. It seemed like destiny was expecting something else out of this young boy. Even with so much fame and success in India’s most beloved reality show, Ajit was left without a job in the city of dreams.

After trying his luck in Mumbai and Calcutta, Ajit returned to his native village in Rajasthan, heartbroken. People criticised and mocked him for spending his life on goshtly glitters of Mumbai and coming back home empty-handed, but one person who stood by him was his wife. His wife held his hand firm and insisted that he begin his dancing career afresh.

He decided to try his luck one more time in his own land, Ajit opened a dancing academy in Jaipur. But for this artist worrier, life has been more of a warzone than just a battle. As soon as he started his academy the notorious corona came knocking. while he was still fighting his existing debts, all hopes for a clear future became cloudy once again.

That Is What A Family Is Suppose To Do

When the passion is right & the time is ripe you automatically find the right path. It was his sister who shared a choreography video of Ajit on her social media handle and the amount of love received on this video was unimaginable. People simply loved how gracefully this man performed the Ghoomar dance.

But try and imagine a man of age 35 showing off his latchak and grace on a Marwari song, absolutely unimaginable, Rajput men are always related to wars and big moustaches, and a Rajput man performing ghoomar is absolutely sick for anyone to accept.

Yet Ajit decided to change the unchangeable. He decided to show the world that art has no gender and passion is without limits.

As it’s said, the roots make a tree tall. Ajit decided to start with his roots, he decided to promote the heritage of Rajasthan with grace and skills.

Dressed in a dhooti and safa, Ajit recorded his first video. The video was shared on all his social media and in no time people started resharing his breathtaking performances, before he could realise he found his lost identity as a dancer back. but this time not as any semi-finalist or a new-age dancer but as the winner of life and the flag bearer of a very admirable traditional dance form.

POPULARLY KNOWN AS – Ghoomar king “ajitbbp”

Not only he is famously known for his own dance but he is also a very popular hip-hop & kalbeliya dance teacher. He takes online classes for many famous kalbeliya dancers in India and broad along with teaching the moves of hip-hop & ghoomar dance.

The path that Ajit has taken is still with bumps, many people criticise him because he performs a dance traditionally performed by women, and many stereotypical members of society try to break his spirit by shaming him for his career choices. However, Ajit has learned to tune out the naysayers and gives much credit to his wife & family for their unwavering support.

[juuls]

Juulna’s 2021 Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Rec List - Part Six

(Yes, I realize this is a year late, but this year's been a bit nuts. I still hope you enjoy these fics anyway!)

Based only on what I’ve read with my own eyes this year!

Follow me on my journey into what, at times, was…

…actually rather calming! Perhaps you can find some comfort and entertainment, fluff and angst and romance and friendship, smut and a distinct lack of it, space adventures and fantasy and modern adventures, serial killers and good guys, redemption and reconciliation and learning to become someone completely different — there is so much here I read that stuck with me over the past year, and the 2021 Fanfic Reading Challenge ( @fanfic-reading-challenge ) allowed me a new way to keep track of all of my favourites. So props to that event! Definitely participating again (considering I run the event, yeah, that's probably a given lol, but full disclosure).

Without further ado, here were my 2021 fic favourites!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Fandom: GoT/AsoIaF

Jaime/Sansa/Oberyn/Ellaria:

Names in the Snow by OperaPhantom

“It’s a punishment,” most whispered. “Punishment from the Old Gods for betraying them for the Seven.”

A few others disagreed. “A gift from the Old Gods to the eldest Stark daughter,” they said. “Or a gift to the North.”

~~~~~~ Sansa Stark receives the Gods' Gift, the mark that identifies her soulmate, only to find out it's what no one, not even herself, expected it to be. But sometimes, surprises can be sweet.

For the February 2021 Pack Prompt of "unexpected".

Jaimsa:

I'm not a princess (this ain't a fairytale) by K_R_Closson

After Joffrey beheads Ned Stark, and his engagement to Sansa is broken, he decides to host a tournament, with the prize being Sansa's hand in marriage. When Jaime Lannister shows up at the last minute to win it, she's afraid she'll be stuck in King's Landing until Joffrey's cruelty does her in. But Jaime made a promise and, one way or another, Lannisters always pay their debts.

Joberyn:

Bequeathed from Pale Estates by Author376

In a Westeros where Soulmates are bound and Marked by the Gods to bind Houses together and pay blood debts, Lyarra Snow and Oberyn Martell are about to get a shock...

Jonsa

and no net ensnares me by thimbleful

Since Jon left, Sansa has struggled to keep things together and she longs for his return. However, when he does return things only become worse. Jon learns about his parentage and doesn't know how to make sense of anything, how to fix the inevitable mess the reveal will create, or how to protect the people he loves. But at least, after all these years, the pack is finally back together. Then, one day, Sansa disappears. Post season 7 fic.

His Winter Queen by @tm-writes-blog

A rewrite of the show's last seasons and how Jon and Sansa forged a true ruling block to challenge the Dragon Queen and defeat the Night King.

There will still be major character deaths, but some very different choices greatly impact the story.

we are buried in broken dreams by Anonymous

Prompt: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant.

A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.

Like winter we are cruel by @ferrame

Winter has come to Winterfell, Jon expects a war north of the Wall, and Littlefinger is brewing one inside the very castle.

you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) by Goodforthesoul

When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay.  His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky. 

Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.

if you try to break me, you will bleed by @dialux

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

The pursuit of non-bath time happiness by Queenofthebees

After Jon refuses Gendry's ask for Arya's hand, citing the fact Sansa was not yet betrothed, Rickon observes and, with the help of Shaggydog, Ghost and Arya, comes up with a plan to have Jon realise he should court Sansa himself. And if it were to result in Jon being less strict about bath times, that was totally coincidental!

The She-Wolves of Winterfell by @vixleonard

The pack survived. So has the Stark habit of keeping secrets.

Jonsaery:

and in the night, you'll hear me calling by @lesbiancerseilannister

When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory.

Jonsanerys:

Brave, Gentle, Strong by @jonsainthenorth

The Night King is defeated, the battle is ended, the dead heroes are burned, but the song is not yet done.

Now, Dany must grapple with the news of her newfound family and the possibility for the Targaryen line to continue beyond her. . . and beyond her brother’s son. She offer Sansa an impossible choice, one that will destroy the Lady of Winterfell's independence but grant her heart's desire and protect the North in perpetuity. Jon is caught between the two halves of himself, between two Queens, Targaryen and Stark, Fire and Ice, Dragon and Direwolf, honor and dishonor...

Sanberyn, Brandon Stark/Catelyn, minor Rhaelyanna, Jon/Cersei:

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

Sanberynia:

A Winter in Braavos by Silberias

Sansa escapes to Braavos with the Dornish.

Desert Winds Rather Than Mountain Air by Silberias

Catelyn Stark leaves King's Landing telling even her old friend Petyr Baelish that she is taking her daughters back to Winterfell. Instead she takes them, without telling Ned, to Dorne because if anyone will believe a tale of Lannister treachery it will be the Martells of Dorne.

She realizes, as she reaches the gates of Sunspear, that she is really no better than her father was all those years ago.

Clinging To The Wild Things That Raised Us by TheSweetestThing

If the Martells demanded the traitor Sansa Stark’s hand in marriage in return for peace throughout the Seven Kingdoms, then so be it.

For Fear Tonight Is All by Silberias

Tyrion knew, as he gazed up at the dark skinned Martell man that this was perhaps his only chance to spirit Sansa out of King's Landing and away from his father's greedy fingers. Tywin Lannister would have married the girl himself if he felt he could have gotten away with it, and so Tyrion knew his own marriage was no protection to Ned Stark's daughter whatsoever.

"Invite her, demand her, steal her--whatever you choose, Prince Oberyn, choose it soon. Else my lady wife shall break into more pieces than the stars."

a sad tale's best for winter by @branwyn-says

Oberyn and Ellaria visit the finest brothel in Oldtown. One of its most alluring attraction is the harpist, a girl with dyed brown hair.

She's still a maid, the brothel-keep assures them.

in this expected country they know my name by @lesspopped

At the wedding feast, Oberyn and Ellaria are approached by the Master of Whisperers, who begs they indulge him with a discussion of clothing — specifically, Lady Sansa Stark's. Very fine, they all agree...but what a shame, Ellaria tuts, she has lost an amethyst from her hairnet.

So when Joffrey begins to cough, they follow her, and find her in the godswood.

I See The Stars In Your Eyes by @themistressmaster

She feared that she was just like her aunt, a wreath of winter roses bestowed upon her at a tourney.

Sanberynia/Jon:

Dornish Customs by @framboise-fics

Sansa escapes from the Eyrie to Castle Black after being accused of the death of her late husband Harrold Hardyng, arriving just after Jon has been resurrected. The two of them decide to flee South together and after journeying for many moons, they arrive in Sunspear and find sanctuary with Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand.

But neither of them have escaped from their pasts unscathed, and during the sweltering days and long sultry nights of Dorne, tensions boil over in unexpected ways.

Sansa deserves a good man guarding her, an honourable man, and she has put her trust in Jon, who is not an honourable man at all. Perhaps he came back wrong, he thinks sometimes, perhaps this sickness is something the red priestess gave him.

Stansa:

Half of Winter by @manic-intent

Stannis Baratheon has survived wars, sieges, pitched battles and skirmishes and worse, but nothing has made him feel as lost and out of place and unnerved as this very moment.

The little pink infant in the crib sleeps peacefully, wrapped in furs, and her wrists are innocently blank. For an irrational moment, Stannis envies her, then he straightens up and turns away. Winterfell is warm, somehow - some sort of piped system, apparently - and his gloves are tucked into his belt, baring the pale silver script on the underside of his right wrist: Sansa Stark.

Wolf's Blood by @manic-intent

"Ser Davos tells me that my brother Robb has done something rash," Sansa cuts in hurriedly, before Stannis rebukes Davos. "Is that true? He has broken his word to the Freys?"

"Aye, and Lord Walder will not so easily forgive that," Stannis looks over to the Twins where they are marked on the huge table that forms the centerpiece of the Chamber, and behind him, sleek and voluptuous in her sheer red dress, Melisandre smiles with her full, crimson mouth. "Your brother is a gifted commander, but he is still a very young boy. Still," Stannis adds, with a lift of a shoulder, "Older men than he have sundered far more over women. I should know - I was part of the last war that broke out over a woman. Your aunt."

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by @sarahtheblack

Ned doesn't go to Cersei with a warning. He goes to Dragonstone.

[savage-rhi]

Immortal Shield  Chapter 21: Prophecy

**DM or comment if you want to be tagged in updates on tumblr

**To read previous chapters, hit this link

Tagging: @seradyn​

Youngblood king, walks tall.

Ardyn heard a faint whisper in his ear. His eyes shot open, wide awake. A heavy sensation stirred in his chest while his lungs struggled to breathe. It was as if something had reached into his chest cavity and squeezed.

Shards of crystal, the dragon calls.

Sharp inhales and quick gasps fell from his lips. His golden eyes were staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room, watching reality begin to warp and bend. A rip in the fabric of the cosmos was soon revealed, and Ardyn could feel himself being pulled upward. Ardyn begged to be let go, to be left alone, but nothing responded nor spared him the pain building up in his body. He desperately tried to make a run for it before the void consumed him.

Heavy heart, youngblood falls.

While Ardyn entered the darkness, his eyes were blind to a pure white light. The warmth radiated with a pulse that was familiar to him yet so distant. His eyes began to come to their senses, making out pieces of furniture, decorum, and shapes from blurred blobs. He panted heavily, feeling the weight on his chest disappear. With furrowed brows Ardyn walked forward, unsure of where he was heading but felt a primal instinct to move.

��Is this…?” He winced upon realizing he was in the throne room. It was just as he remembered from his final battle with Noctis, though there were some changes. No doubt from the restoration effort. He recalled their final battle had left the heart of the city in shambles beyond recognition.

“Why am I here?” Ardyn growled. Much like his dream with Somnus and Aera, he felt like an unwilling ghost. A person who was to bear witness, but to what, he didn’t have a clue. Frustration visibly touched his features as he blinked. In a split second, Noctis stood before him about 30 ft away. There was a look of recognition Ardyn could see emit from the kings eyes, and before Noctis could take a step forward, he fell onto his knees.

Dragon born from slayer

Ghastly and pained cries left Noctis as he dragged his nails into the red carpeting below himself. A crushing sound could be heard coming from his body. Ardyn couldn’t help but watch with pure awe and horror as bones snapped and repositioned. He observed Noctis’s features becoming grisly and reptilian over time. His eyes turned a hungry purple before a large shielded hand burst forth from his chest. The large clawed fingers grabbed a hold of the floor while more pieces of the beast started to make their way through the king of Insomnia. Whatever was coming through, Ardyn couldn’t believe it was using Noctis, his own body, as a literal door to their world. There was a part of him that wanted to run towards Noctis, try to somehow shove the beast back in, but Ardyn knew it would be of no use. He also couldn’t move. Ardyn was frozen in place, feeling as if a million hands held him down. A gasp left his shaking form when he saw the eyes of Bahamut staring right through him as the dragon god peered through Noctis’s chest.

Daemon who rose from prayer

“Argh!” Ardyn could feel every muscle in his body wanting to rip out of himself. He fell onto his knees. A thick black inky liquid began to seep from his body’s orifices. His nose, his mouth, his eyes, his ears, all leaking of the sharp sweet yet coppery smell of daemonic energy. Ardyn couldn’t help but gag at the flavor while it fell from his mouth, staining the floor below him. Heaves and huffs left Ardyn's lips as he felt a splitting headache began to reverberate on either side of his head. A heavy crunch radiated in his eardrums while he screamed out. Two horn structures started to emerge from his bone. The contour of each bearing a striking similarity to Ifrits own crown of antlers.

Healing touch of the betrayer

Ardyn snarled, looking up at Noctis. There was rage in both of their eyes as they impulsively rushed at one another. Before the two could exchange deadly blows, the atmosphere began to shift and turn. Noctis and his grotesque form faded into a golden light, leaving Ardyn to his own devices. He was surprised while he looked around, his black and gold eyes perplexed at the sudden change. He found himself in a familiar field of wheat. The aging stocks the size of small children, stopping at his waist, and a darkened tree from afar.

The last of the Gods gift to the blessed

Across the skies Ardyn could see the entirety of space. The world of Eos, and it’s many counterparts. Thousands upon thousands of stars stared back. Universes filled with people and other souls danced across his vision. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The possibilities endless, and he but a mere speck in the grand scheme of it all. Ardyn felt puny and enriched at the same time. A calling in his soul began to surge forth, one he felt on a primal level.

World of Eos and of men divine depressed

Ardyn was distracted from the ebb and flow of the cosmos as he could see Aera’s form in front of the tree. Their tree. The one they had many times took shelter at to hide from the world and catch a break from responsibilities. He didn’t hesitate to sprint towards her. As he drew near, Ardyn watched Aera fearfully shake her head. Her arms going up to warn him of...something. The denial in her features tore at his heart while Ardyn choked out her name. Her face began to fade, changing into someone else, that of Lady Lunafreya.

“Aera!”

He saw her cut down to size again before his eyes. Somnus’s features twisting in and out of pure glee and utter disgust. Faint agonizing cries from his younger brother took Ardyn back as he stopped running and watched Aera’s body fall.

Will come an age of true rest

Ardyn burst from the couch, tumbling off the side of it as he scrambled his legs and arms away from nothing. He heaved, his chest rising up and down rapidly while he swallowed. He rose his hands up, looking upon them for any signs of the daemonic bile. Nothing. He was clean. A sigh of relief left him, followed by a hiss as he could feel the heaviness of a hangover ransack the front of his skull.

“Oh dear,” He murmured out loud, rubbing at the spot in a vain attempt to self soothe. He looked over towards the living room space of the hotel, seeing the clock overhead that said it was almost 6am.

“This is why we don't drink heavily, you stupid fool…”

A grunt fell from Ardyn's mouth while he felt his adrenaline die down and a fog begin to overtake him. He wanted to go back to sleep, but was too scared of what he experienced. His heart thudded at a rapid pace even as he breathing became more calm over time.

“Cahl,” He called out to her. Not hearing a peep nor the faint puffs of her snores in the room, Ardyn forced himself on nimble feet. He strode over to the bed with concern, sitting beside Caelan’s sleeping form. She was still out of it. Her breaths easy and light. A sigh of relief left him, knowing she was fine. Having not experienced the odd hell he was just in. Whatever these visions were, Ardyn was thankful they didn’t seem to harm her just by being in his proximity. Aera’s fearful look came to him, and he closed his eyes. He imagined Caelan and her both being stabbed through, and grimaced.

Ardyn debated with himself before coaxing Caelan’s body to move and make way for him. The heaviness of his head, the exhaustion of his body, and fear of being alone prevented him from returning to the couch. He didn’t want to feel like he was going to float off again. He needed an anchor. Someone he trusted. He made himself comfortable, adjusting one of the pillows she had been laying on before turning his body to face her. He could feel the gravity of sleep already tempting his eyes to close. Before he would allow it, Ardyn wrapped his arms around Caelan, pulling her close to his chest. His lips meeting her forehead as rest grabbed a hold yet again. He lazily peppered her skin with soft kisses until he fell asleep once more.

It was 8 in the morning when Caelan could feel her heavy eyes start to pry open. A heavy groan left her mouth as she rose her head up from the bed, looking around before collapsing. Footsteps traversing around the hotel room had her irate mind beckoning her to pay attention and see if there was any danger. She forced herself up, finding it quite difficult to rise from bed. Somehow she got her feet to touch ground while she hunched over, eyes fixated on her knees while a pounding headache made its presence welcome.

“Oh fuck,” Caelan muttered.

“She rises again!”

Caelan turned her head to the left, seeing Ardyn standing near the couch. He had a cup of something warm in hand, a relaxing steam pooling from the top. He looked more disheveled than usual. His hair couldn’t get anymore wild as she weakly waved his direction. Her eyes admired the wavy spikes in his hair, finding it accentuating some of his features. Her face felt warm while thinking to herself he looked rather cute.

“I’m never drinking again, this is the worst.”

“I’m sure you’re the first person in Eos to ever make such a bold proclamation.” Ardyn sarcastically teased, shaking his head at her in feigned disappointment.

“Don’t patronize me.”

Her defeated tone had Ardyn snort. He lazily ventured over to her, handing Caelan the cup which he made sure her fingers clasped tightly before letting go.

“What are you doing that for?”

“I broke a cup earlier. My fingers couldn’t grasp if my life depended on it. You’re not the only one suffering from our over indulgence.” Ardyn mused.

“What did you make this time?” Caelan smiled lopsidedly, bringing the cup to her lips before Ardyn could tell her what it was. The bitter smell instantly had her furrow her brows. “Matcha.”

“You were expecting something else?”

“I thought it would’ve been the stuff you made for me when I was wounded. Remember? When we first hit Duscae after the Einherjar ambushed us at Insomnia’s check point.”

Ardyn smirked, a small huff escaping him as he sighed and took a seat beside Caelan. He remembered that day well. A part of him feeling nostalgic for it already. It had to have been almost two months or so since Caelan and he began traveling together. Time flew, yet it felt like a lifetime had come and gone.

“That drink was for replenishing blood. I’m afraid it can’t cure a hangover.”

“Can’t you just get rid of it with your mystic powers?” Caelan joked.

“Unfortunately for both of us, I’m limited.”

“Pft, some healer you are.” They both chuckled tiredly at Caelan’s snarky remark.

Ardyn felt a weight of mixed feelings begin to course through his body. So far, Caelan seemed to be alright with him despite what they had done. The anxiety he had been feeling since last night softened. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought, talking through it with her. She seemed receptive enough. As his eyes studied her mangled hair and tired features while she drank the tea, he felt a temptation to lean forward and kiss her cheek. He moved a bit forward, his face getting close to hers, then stopped.

“Cahl,” Ardyn cleared his throat.

“Hm?”

“Did you have fun with me last night?”

“Are you kidding?” Caelan began, letting out a laugh as she nodded. “I had a great time! Minus getting intoxicated. It wasn’t so bad having you for company throughout it.”

“Likewise,” Ardyn smiled. He let out a deep breath, getting her attention. The look of concern that hit Caelan’s features had him nearly lose his resolve before he forced himself to speak.

“Do you happen to remember how we ended up here?”

“I--,” Caelan blinked several times. She rubbed the side of her head, feeling another bout of pain from her hangover throb for a moment. While she massaged her scalp, her memories seemed to be in order despite having consumed alcohol like a fish needing air. There was something amiss however when she got to the part with them sitting at the wall overlooking the valleys and canyons of Duscae.

“I think I braided your hair, and we went to the fountain, you grabbed my keys, and I woke up.” Caelan was puzzled with her own choice of words while she looked at Ardyn. In an instant it seemed he went from being calm and collected to serious.

“Are you absolutely certain?” The aggression in his voice had Caelan stumped as she made a face at him.

“Yeah, I am.” She said as a matter of fact, her tone holding ground while she studied the solemn look in his eyes. “Ardyn, did something happen?”

“Of course not,” He sighed bitterly. He rose from the bed, pacing over to the living room area while he rubbed his forehead out of frustration.

“I’m not buying what you’re selling,” Caelan sighed. Concern enveloped her as she sat the cup down by her feet and got up. She calmly approached Ardyn, her right hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. She felt him visibly tense before moving away. Caelan felt a sting to her chest at the reaction.

“Ardyn, if I said anything stupid while under the influence, I’m sorry. If you’re angry with me, tell me. I can take it. Just--don’t brood like this.”

“I’m not brooding,” His tone was apathetic. “Forget about it.”

“No,” Caelan walked around to where she was facing him. She could see he was trying his darndest to avoid her gaze. Looking anywhere but her. “You’re doing it again. This whole hot and cold crap. What’s the deal? We were just fine a moment ago.”

“You need to drop it, now.” Ardyn said firmly. His arms crossed.

“Ardyn--”

“You’re just some silly girl, okay?!”

Caelan jumped back, her eyes widened. For a split second he looked beyond enraged. He had yelled towards her before, but nothing quite like this. Not to where she felt the need to brace herself. Ardyn seemed to have caught himself and sighed sadly. There was a moment his eyes held that softness he usually had for her, but he went back to glaring in an instant.

“To hell with this!” He hissed, bounding for the doors of the hotel, slamming them behind as he stormed off.

Caelan was beside herself. She blinked several times. Between this and the hangover, she was beyond irate with him. Whatever compassion she had towards Ardyn and his situation left her. She started to mutter bitterly to herself while venturing to the bathroom, realizing she was still in her dress and needed to change into something more suitable.

“Fine. If he wants to be a jerk, let him be a jerk. Has some fucking nerve talking to me like that.”

Upon entering the bathroom, she noticed there were fresh clothes already lined and ready for her sitting on the counter. Her brows furrowed. She had no doubt Ardyn did that this morning. His scent still lingered near the clothes. Caelan's eyes scanned over her dress, admiring the texture of it. She still couldn’t believe he went out of his way to do something this nice for her. Despite being pissed at his antics moments ago, she was worried about him. Even though he swore nothing occurred, Caelan couldn’t shake her instincts telling her otherwise.

After she stripped down and got into her casual attire, Caelan went to the mirror to make adjustments. She stopped while messing with the hem of her shirt, doing a double take in the mirror as she came across distinctive purple blotches on her throat.

“What the--”

Keeping her eyes on the mirror, Caelan reached her right hand slowly up to the spots. The brief contact her fingertips gave had her wince. These were bruises. Fresh ones. She pulled down the collar of her shirt, feeling a few more placed upon her collarbone. Traveling back to her neck, Caelan tilted her head to the side, moving hair out of the way to get a better look. There were faint marks that looked like teeth on the upper half of her neck, right below her earlobe.

Caelan was beside herself while her fingers continuously felt over her bruised skin despite the painful stings that came with them being touched. Subconsciously she believed if she touched them long enough, she’d remember how she got them or who the owner was. It became glaringly obvious these were hickeys. Even through the haze of her throbbing headache from all the wine and mead she had drank, her awareness towards these things was sharp.

There was a man that popped up in mind.

While Ardyn was busy last night getting them a seat at a diner, not able to stomach the street food anymore, Caelan hit it off with a merchant who was a few years older than she. The conversation was innocent enough. They mostly discussed Lestallum and how the city changed since the end of the Dark Decade, and they shared some of their personal experiences with daemons. The merchant had nearly lost an arm to one, and went about showing Caelan the scars. She too showed off a couple on her leg, hiking her dress up some while her movements and exaggerations conveyed the seriousness and downright humorous moments of her circumstance.

The merchant was rather good looking. Even if she hadn’t been drinking, Caelan would’ve thought highly of him. She wasn’t far too gone, this experience having occurred after Ardyn and she danced. The man eventually asked if Caelan wanted to enjoy some of the festivities together, even going so far as to compliment how pretty she looked. Caelan politely declined and mentioned she was with somebody else. That’s when Ardyn showed up. The look of utter contempt he had towards the merchant sent a chill down her spine. There was a brief thought he might kill the poor guy in public with how enraged his eyes appeared. A calm before a storm. She was surprised when Ardyn behaved cordial, yet he did manage to sneak in a nasty remark here or there. He did it so slyly, the merchant didn’t notice minus the few that stood out when Ardyn became more emboldened by his conversational tactics.

It was only when Caelan called Ardyn out on his bullshit did he stop for her sake. He apologized, playing it off that he had been consuming too much wine, had been upset earlier, and took it out on the guy. Once they departed, Ardyn went off about the merchant for a good twenty or so minutes on their way to the diner. Caelan poked fun at him for it. Accusing him of being territorial over her or even downright jealous that he wasn’t the center of her universe. He declined it over and over of course. Ardyn being Ardyn, he was too prideful to admit anything.

Since the incident, Caelan did bump into the merchant a few more times throughout the night. Mostly he’d give a friendly nod seeing Ardyn and Caelan walk by. In the present Caelan couldn’t help but wonder if she had encountered the merchant again during the time she couldn’t remember.

A thought suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks: maybe these marks were from the man. Maybe things became too heated. Maybe Ardyn saw what happened and brought her back to the hotel. Perhaps he was being polite because of her hangover initially, and when it came time to talk about what transpired, he was rather furious. Maybe she had put herself in danger, and he had to break it off. Caelan wasn’t sure if that was the full story, but she had a strong feeling something along the lines of this happened.

“Fuck, did I make a fool of myself?” There were many scenarios that played out in her head. Variations of her original hypothesis. It was frustrating knowing Ardyn seemed to have all the answers and she had not the faintest idea. She’d only get the truth when he’d show back up and if--a big if--he was willing to talk about it.

There was one intrusive thought she hadn’t crossed paths with yet. Perhaps the marks didn’t belong to the merchant. Maybe they were from Ardyn himself. Her eyes widened, shocked that her brain would jump to that idea. However, she wasn’t going to lie to herself--not anymore-- that a part of her felt excited at the prospect.

Caelan knew she had feelings for him. Their time at the wall overlooking the canyon and valley was something she distinctively recalled from last night despite being tipsy and emotional. She shuddered, her body’s muscle memory recalled how he held her from behind while his breath ghosted against her flesh. How warm he was and the way his nose occasionally bumped against the shell of her ear while he talked to her. Her heart started to beat rapidly, feeling her face burn when she remembered how his thumb and index finger carded along her bottom lip when he was teaching her God Speak.

“No girl, no.” She murmured to herself, trying to self soothe when reality came knocking on her door regarding him. There were moments of intimacy between them, where Caelan couldn’t help but wonder if he felt something, but it was hard to distinguish between infatuation and trickery. Ardyn had a rather flirtatious and manipulative way of going about getting what he wanted. Knowing full well how to use his charisma and charm to undo another person. He had performed his gimmick on Caelan as well.

Caelan recalled when she denied Ardyn going into a highly dense area of Duscae to get a treat he hadn't had in ages. He used his silver tongue and physicality to convince her otherwise. She could still feel it. How he invaded her personal space, but there was a point of no return for her, having grown to accept it as they bantered back and fourth. Caelan only relented when Ardyn got too close to where he could easily kiss her. At that point, her brain acknowledged he led her around in circles until she was physically and mentally backed into a corner. No way out but to give into his request.

“Damn him,” She really didn’t mean that, but did. She had it bad.

Caelan tried to placate her feelings with a reality check. She knew Ardyn was determined to finish what he started, going to Insomnia and seeing king. He wanted to die. Being a 2,000 year old entity and understanding where he was coming from, she’d be selfish to take that from him. There was also Aera. Reuniting with her.

From what he shared of of his late wife, Caelan herself was rooting for them both. They were practically soulmates, or the closest to it she could think of. Her heart went out to Aera. Knowing the former Oracle was faced with impossible choices. Aera was brave for sacrificing her marriage to save not only the people of Lucis at the time, but Ardyn too because of her devotion to him. Their story was a tragic one and they deserved the world in Caelan's mind.

Caelan knew had she been in Aera's position, there was no way she’d go through with it. She wasn’t strong enough in that capacity. Caelan would’ve rather damned the Lucians to their civil war than to break off her marriage to someone she loved. Her personal choice didn’t make her the better person, no. Aera was brave. Being an Oracle, she had to be. Caelan had grown to love her too as a person through the stories Ardyn shared about her. She didn’t know how Aera died, but understood it was painful. It didn’t matter how much pep was in Ardyn’s tone when he discussed his beloved, for his eyes gave away how much he missed her and how sad he was that she no longer walked Eos.

That was the other thing Caelan became self conscious of regarding her feelings towards Ardyn, she wasn’t like Aera. They were opposites in many ways. There was nothing shameful about that, she knew. Every human is different. Each with their own strengths and weaknesses, but Caelan did feel it hurt the chances of Ardyn holding any intimate feelings towards her. If there was an afterlife, they deserved to rest together. Caelan felt horrid pining for a man who had someone on the other side waiting for him. There was also the fact that Ardyn was immortal, and Caelan didn’t think she would make it to 40 at the rate things were heading. He could easily grow tired of her. Maybe he was already in the process of that considering how he exploded before leaving the hotel.

There were so many variants and variables going against Caelan ever being with him, that she felt foolish for having caught feelings to begin with. She’d keep her vows to him as his shield. Perhaps that would be the best and only way to show her devotions without confessing.

Caelan snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a knock on the door. Her brows knitted, scarcely doubting it was Ardyn due to a few reasons: One, he was pissed off and when he was angry it would be a long while before he’d come back, two, if it were Ardyn he wouldn’t knock. He would barge in like he owned the place, and three, the knocks were distinct. Almost rhythmic like a nursery rhyme. The red flags were already up as far as she was concerned.

Making her way to the doors, Caelan stopped a few feet from them when she saw an envelope that had been swiped underneath. With caution she approached and picked it up. Her hands tearing through the material as she unfolded the note. Her eyes brunched into a glare, her pulse rising while she began to read it to herself.

Zamfir,

I have a proposition for you that might fix our mutual hostility and problems at large with Lucis. I will be outside the city limits near Leonard’s Farms. I respectfully request you bring yourself only as I’ll be without the Einherjar during this visit.

There’s a high chance you won’t believe me given our less than friendly encounters over the years. You have my respect for that. However, I implore you to push aside our grievances for the greater good. Should you fail to meet by the end of the day, the Einherjar and myself will continue to pursue you regardless.

I am extending a hand in honor of us being comrades once upon a time, and upon your father’s death day that will be coming up. He has been on my mind as have you. This is the only time I’m going to allow sentimentality to interfere with our hunt for your head. Don’t squander it.

See you soon.

Tempus

There were a million reasons how this could go wrong, and a million reasons for why Caelan shouldn’t go. Yet she found herself getting ready as soon as she tucked the letter into her pants pocket. To Caelan it didn’t matter. None of it did. If she went or didn’t, the Einherjar tracked Ardyn and her to Lestallum. They were being hunted no matter what was said in the letter. If she could play a hand in how the fight would turn out, and determine the future obstacles that would get in the way, it was worth pursuing Tempus’s offer. Maybe she could throw a wrench into whatever plans he had in mind.

Before heading out the door, Caelan pulled out her phone and began texting Ardyn. She had to ensure he’d know where she was just in case, but also be ambiguous enough to where he wouldn’t follow.

Cahl: I’m taking the Scepter and going to the farms outside the city limits. There’s a sale on a car part I want to check out.

Cahl: Please don’t leave the city. As your shield, I want you to be safe.

Cahl: Ardyn…whatever happened, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if ever. I just want us to be okay.

Ardyn had already fought on her behalf when it came to these creeps. She wasn’t going to run away. Not this time and she wasn’t going to let them put a hand on him.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 7th of June 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 7th of June 2021

Question: What is Meghan planning for the G7 summit?

Interpretation: A deception. It will be a PR success at first, but then it will turn sour.

Card One: The Moon. Deception. Lies. Secrets. Driving people crazy with these secrets. The shadows and half seen things of night as opposed to the clear light of day.

The card shows the goddess Hecate, who dwelt in the underworld. She was regarded as one of the rulers or powerful figures in the underworld. Places associated with her were crossroads, tombs, and the scenes of crimes. Her companions were the Furies, the beings who tormented humans who broke the law of the gods. She presided over purification and expiation, and sent demons to torment people through their dreams. She is associated (among other things) with witches, plant lore, and childbirth.

Meghan is going to do something very deceptive. It is an action that in the past she would need to expiate, or submit to purification to be considered cleaned of it. It won't bother her, but it is something that most people would regard with horror if they knew the full story behind it. The Moon is lies, deceit, illusions, and this is what Meghan is going to use to conceal the truth, so we only see what she wants us to see. The public will be given a pretty surface picture, and the real truth underneath it will be much darker.

This deception may involve a child. Hecate hid from her parents in the house of a woman giving birth, and was sent to the underworld to be purified, where she remained. That link between Hecate and childbirth is coming through quite strongly in the energy of this card, as is a sense of bad/negative/dark energy.

This is the only major arcana card of the reading, so it is a dominant energy of the reading.

Card Two: The Six of Wands. This is a card of success. Something has come to a triumphant conclusion. There will be recognition by others and public acclaim. The card shows Jason triumphantly holding the golden fleece over his head, with his companions cheering him in the background.

Wands can be the suit of PR. Meghan is going to put out something via PR that will work for her. She will get attention, and she may even get some celebrities coming out and speaking about the news, just like Jason's companions are applauding him. It will be a glittering moment of success for her.

Card Three: The Ace of Pentacles. This is a card about new financial beginnings or a new opportunity for stability. It can also be a card about a baby or a child, especially and earth sign child. Here I think it is about a child. The PR news that Meghan puts out will be about a child, and it will bring her monetary rewards or the opportunity for monetary rewards as well as the PR success of the last card.

Card Four: The Four of Pentacles. This is a card of holding on tightly to things, especially material things and things of the past. These things can be ones that boost your self esteem, and a loss of them is like losing a part of your confidence.

The card shows Daedalus clutching four pentacles to his chest, the result of his work, while he looks across at his nephew, who is more skilled than Daedalus is at the craft. Daedalus is envious and jealous of his nephew, and it shows in his face.

Daedalus here represents Meghan (and Harry). Meghan is clinging on tightly to her titles, the last bit of glory she has from her days as a working royal. She is jealous of the 'big events' that other royals get to attend, such as the G7 summit. She is trying to get that attention back on herself. I think that this attitude will become very, very obvious to just about everyone. Her PR stunt will start to be seen as a desperate attempt to stay connected to the royal family in some way.

I keep thinking of William and Catherine as the Prince and Princess of Wales. I do not want anything to happen to elevate them to that position just yet, but when it does happen, Meghan will be consumed with jealousy and will be doing the equivalent of waving her titles (her gold coins) and shouting "I am relevant too, moreso than them!'.

Card Five: The Ten of Swords. This is a card of utter despair, of being at rock bottom. It is the card of betrayal, being stabbed in the back. The card shows Orestes huddles in a heap on the ground, utterly spent. The Furies that have tormented him are kept at bay behind a wall of swords, and over him stands the goddess Athena, the goddess on the card of Justice, protecting him. The sunrise at the back of the card signifies hope, but Orestes can not see it due to his exhausted despair.

Someone is going to hit rock bottom and be in complete despair. They will be betrayed by someone they care about. This is the end for them. They can not take any more. All they can do is lie there, like Orestes on the card, completely drained. They are protected, like Athena protects Orestes, but they can not do anything to save themselves.

I get two energies from this card. The first is Harry. Whatever Meghan does, it is doing to drive him to rock bottom. He will be like Orestes, just lying on the ground in exhausted despair, having no where to run and no where to turn to (in his mind). In reality, of course, he has the protection and comfort of his family if he will just reach out to them. The Ten of Swords can be a card of physical death, and I really hope Harry is going to be able to pick himself up and walk away from this and not kill himself over the betrayal.

The second energy I get from this card is Meghan. Something is going to go wrong for her, and it will be very bitter for her. She will feel abandoned by everyone who previously supported her.

Card Six: The King of Cups. This is a water sign man, particularly a Scorpio, and this card is coming through as Prince Charles. He will show the compassionate nature of the King of Cups in his dealings with Harry, as he will be moved by the pain Harry is suffering. He is coming through as a rather remote figure here, very kingly, not very personal. I hope to goodness that this following the card of betrayal and possible death (the Ten of Swords) does not mean the death of HM at this time as well as everything else going on in the reading.

Underlying Energy One: The Three of Pentacles. This is a card of three people working together to make something manifest in the world, by giving time or money or energy to the task. There is an initial success. The card shows Daedalus being paid for his work by three men, an early indication of the success of his crafting skills. This echoes the success shown in the Six of Wands card, and hints that the PR will be paid PR and not organic interest. The three figures indicate that there is more than one person involved in this deception of Meghan's. She may be the driving force, but she needs other people (possibly paid for their role) to pull it off.

The three of Pentacles is my surrogacy card, so again we have hints of a child being involved (as per the Moon card and the Ace of Pentacles card).

Underlying Energy Two: The Six of Pentacles. This is a card of money/status/rewards, asking for it and bestowing it. The card shows the King Minos giving six gold pentacles (quite a bit of money) to the craftsman Daedalus. King Minos looks similar enough to the figure on the King of Cups card for me to link the two. The person giving the money is Charles, and the people begging for the money (or more money) are Harry and Meghan. I don't know if they will get it (I suspect not), but part of the reason for the deception in the reading is to force more money out of Prince Charles. Meghan may be applying pressure for her children to have titles (worldly status) as well.

Conclusion: Meghan is going to put out a lie or deception of some sort to get attention. Several people will be involved in this deception, and part of the reason for her doing it is to force Prince Charles to give her more money (and perhaps titles for her kids). The deception will be initially successful, and may result in her obtaining some money. It may involve a child. Then something will show how attached Meghan is to her titles/her previous royal status, and things will go downhill. Meghan will feel betrayed and abandoned by the world, and Harry will hit rock bottom. Charles at the end is a shining figure, like a King and not the Prince of Wales. He will help Harry if Harry asks for help.

[gunterfan1992]

Season One of “Adventure Time”: Short Episode Reviews

At the start of 2021, I had this idea to write up a book wherein I reviewed every episode of Adventure Time, condensing my thoughts down into a few paragraphs. It seemed easy enough at the time —I could knock a season out in a week, no prob, I thought — but it turns out it was quite the challenge. Part of this was the difficulty of boiling everything down into a few coherent paragraphs that didn’t just repeat the ideas that “This episode is wacky. This episode is bad.” (I was also dealing with untreated ADHD, so that probably didn’t help.) Even though it was a hurdle, I still got through seasons 1-4, and I thought I’d post my reviews here. Maybe one day I’ll do something with ‘em, but for now, enjoy!

Season 1, Episode 1. “Slumber Party Panic” (692-009)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Synopsis: Princess Bubblegum accidentally resurrects a violent mob of candy zombies, which leads to Finn doing the unthinkable: He breaks a royal promise to Bubblegum.

Commentary: It is always a delight to remind people that Adventure Time—a show that would go on to win a slew of prestigious awards and be lauded by critics as one of the smartest kids show that has ever been made—begins with Princess Bubblegum “add[ing] three more drops of explosive diarrhea” to a scientific mixture with which she hopes to bring the dead back to life. This elision of a macabre topic like the resurrection of the dead with a poop joke is in many ways emblematic of the sort of humor upon which Adventure Time was built, and while “Slumber Party Panic” might not be the season’s best episode, it does a solid job introducing the odd, madcap energy that would allow the show to flourish in its youth.

The plot to “Slumber Party Panic”—storyboarded by future series director Elizabeth Ito as well as eventual showrunner Adam Muto—was hammered out well before the show’s mythology was set in stone, and so some of the more hyperbolic plot points from this episode (e.g., the dramatic revelation that candy citizens explode when scared, or the fact that the Gumball Guardians are also the nigh-omnipotent Guardians of the Royal Promise, who can stop and reverse time itself) had to be ignored in later seasons. Nevertheless, the main characters’ personalities are all firmly established, allowing them to play off one another in a way that does not feel forced or misguided; Jeremy Shada and John DiMaggio, in particular, have excellent chemistry, breathing whimsical life into Finn and Jake right off the bat. All things considered, “Slumber Party Panic” is a fun entry and a solid preview of the silliness that was to come. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 2. “Trouble in Lumpy Space” (692-015)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Trouble in Lumpy Space” is a Ito-Muto production that introduces us to Lumpy Space Princess, the loquacious and dramatic drama queen who was destined to become one of the show’s breakout stars. A sentient blob of “irradiated stardust,” Lumpy Space Princess is an alien valley girl parody voiced by none other than series creator Pendleton Ward himself, and this episode does a commendable job illustrating the character’s immaturity and her ridiculously inflated sense of self-importance. This makes for good entertainment in and of it itself, but what really bumps this episode up a peg is the vocal delivery of the cast. Adventure Time always excelled when it came to its voice acting, but in this episode it is obvious that in this episode Jeremy Shada, John DiMaggio, and Pendleton Ward had extra fun playing around with their ridiculous “lumpy space” accents.

Aesthetically, this episode is quite the sensory experience. Lumpy Space itself is a hauntingly beautiful alien dimension of dark magenta skies and purple, pillowy clouds; it is a right shame that the show very rarely made use of this unique environment, considering how pleasant it is to look at. The episode’s soundtrack is also deserving of recognition, with much of the background music—especially the vapid pop tune that plays while Finn, Jake, and Lumpy Space Princess hitch a ride in Melissa’s car—recalling the elastic hyperpop that electro-wizzes from PC Music produce. The tunes add an extra dimension to the whole experience, helping to sell the idea that Lumpy Space is a silly but alien otherworld. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 3. “Prisoners of Love” (692-005)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Craig Lewis and Adam Muto (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Ice King! Beginning the series as a cartoonishly incompetent antagonist, Ice King would grow into one of the show’s most well-developed characters. While “Prisoners of Love,” being the character’s debut episode, sees the Ice King still in his one-dimensional “wicked wizard” stage, there are hints even at this early juncture—like the character’s dramatic insistence to pluck out a yogurt chip from his trail mix, or his spasmodic attempts to play the drums—that the Ice King is more than just a textbook baddie. Is he evil? Judging by his actions, it often looks that way, but there is also a deep sadness to him that makes even his worst behavior somewhat pitiful.

But as pathetic as he may be, Ice King’s lecherous habit of kidnapping princesses is completely unacceptable (Princesses, Adventure Time would like to remind us, should never be married against their will), and by episode’s end, Ice King receives his just desserts—a feminist-fueled kick to the face, courtesy of Finn the Human. The moral of the story is clear: Poor old Ice King might just be lonely, but that does not excuse him for acting like a frost-bitten incel. (‰3.5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 4. “Tree Trunks” (692-016)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Tree Trunks” introduces the audience to the eponymous character, voiced by Polly Lou Livingston, an eccentric octogenarian with a pronounced southern drawl whom Pendleton Ward knew growing up in Texas. Despite Tree Trunks appearing as a sweet old pachyderm, much of her dialog is riddled with double entendres and subtle sex jokes that go over the heads of children, and as such, she is something of a divisive character in the Adventure Time fandom: While some viewers find her hilarious, others find her decidedly off-putting. In this episode, however, storyboard artists Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn strike a decent balance between the character’s funny and creepy sides (case in point: The scene wherein Tree Trunks, in the gawdiest of makeup, tries to seduce an evil monster with her “womanly charms and elephant prowess”). The major exception to this overall balance is the episode’s decidedly morbid conclusion, which features Tree Trunks exploding after tasting the crystal apple. This was perhaps the show’s first non sequitur ending, and almost certainly left an indelible imprint on the minds of viewers young and old alike. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 5. “The Enchiridion!” (692-001)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Patrick McHale, Adam Muto, and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists and story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: According to the annals of cartoon history, the initial storyboard for “The Enchiridion” was whipped up by Ward and his crew members to prove to Cartoon Network that Adventure Time could be developed into a full-fledged series. This was almost certainly a stressful task, which necessitated that Ward et al. dissect the pilot, determine what elements worked, and then infuse those elements into a new storyboard. As a result of this “open art transplant,” there are quite a few analogs between the pilot and “The Enchiridion!”—e.g., the wacky dancing, the dream sequences, the ridiculous language—but this episode does a solid job of emulating the style of the pilot without wholesale duplicating it.

In terms of plot, “The Enchiridion!” is a fairly predictable adventure story, but it is one with enough clever variations that prevent the whole affair from dragging or being too boring; standout scenes include Finn and Jake having to deal with granny-zapping gnomes, and the D&D-inspired reverie in which Finn is tempted to slay an “unaligned” ant. The episode is further buoyed by several fun guest stars (including Mark Hamill, Fred Tatasciore, and even Black Flag’s Henry Rollins) that sprinkle a little additional energy on top of the whole thing. Given the exuberant fun of the episode and the way it easily introduces us to supporting characters like Princess Bubblegum, it is intriguing why the producers did not choose “The Enchiridion!” as the series premiere. That question aside, “The Enchiridion!” is one of the season’s stronger episode and an excellent place to start if you want a crash course in what made early Adventure Time so unique. (4 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 6. “The Jiggler” (692-011)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Armen Mirzaian (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “The Jiggler” opens on a fun, hyperactive note, with Finn singing “Baby,” a catchy song coated in layer upon layer of sweet, crisp autotune. But soon after Finn and Jake discover and “adopt” the titular creature, the affair quickly devolves into a cartoonish snuff film of two dullards accidentally torturing a wild animal; the whole thing is made worse by the high volume of bodily fluids excreted by the Jiggler. Thankfully, Finn and Jake are able to return the Jiggler to its mother before it keels over, but this victory is undermined given that the whole situation was Finn and Jake’s fault to begin with. Perhaps it is best to view all of this as a cautionary tale: No matter how cute a wild animal may look, you probably should not take it home and make it dance for you. (2 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 7. “Ricardio the Heart Guy” (692-007)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon, Adam Muto, and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Ricardio the Heart Guy” introduces the titular villain, the brainy-but-sleazy heart of the Ice King voiced to perfection by the sonorous George Takei. Given how arrogant the character acts even before his true intentions are revealed, it is not much of a shock that Ricardio is a rotten egg, and this lack of mystery drags the whole episode down to some degree. Nevertheless, Takei’s histronic performance injects into the episode a funny sort of melodrama, with is further reinforced by Casey James Basichis’s sparklingly dark score, which mixes in elements of opera alongside the usual chiptune blips and bloops to emphasize Ricardio’s pretentiousness. (3 stars‰)

  Season 1, Episode 8. “Business Time” (692-014)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Armen Mirzaian (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: On the surface, “Business Time” is but a silly parody of corporate culture that sees Finn and Jake become the veritable CEOs of an adventuring firm. It is a silly little set up, and the show has good fun poking fun at business-speak and the deleterious effects of rampant corporatization. At the same time, by relegating Finn and Jake to the sidelines near the middle of the episode, “Business Time” does itself a disservice by focusing not on the wacky shenanigans of the business men, but rather on the mundanity of Finn and Jake’s “managerial life.” It all comes together in the end, when Finn and Jake are forced to jump into the fray and destroy the Business Men’s vacuum robot, but the noticeable lag there in the middle of everything throws the pacing of the episode off.

But while “Business Time” might not be the strongest first-season entry, it has gained respect in the fandom for being the first episode to underline that the Land of Ooo exists in the far future after some sort of nuclear holocaust. In an interview with USA Today, Ward explained that this was a natural development that he had never planned: “[When] we did [the] episode about businessmen rising up from an iceberg at the bottom of a lake … that made the world post-apocalyptic, and we just ran with it” (X). Considering how major the post-apocalyptic trappings would become to the show’s mythology, it is a bit startling to learn that it was added in on a whim. Regardless, it was an inspired choice that added a tinge of sadness to the story of Finn and Jake. They were not just frolicking in some fantasy world; they were frolicking in the ruins of our world, long after nuclear war had devasted the planet. Is it bleak? Absolutely! But this bleakness contrasts nicely with Adventure Time’s colorful surface, resulting in a deeply rich ambivalence. Not many shows—let alone children’s shows!—have managed to fuse such extremes into a workable whole. (3.5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 9. “My Two Favorite People” (692-004)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Almost all the first-season episodes that we have considered so far have placed a heavy emphasis on comedy. The point of these episodes is to make you laugh, and anything beyond that is gravy. “My Two Favorite People,” in contrast, may be the first that is grounded on a solidly emotional foundation, and while the episode is very funny, it is primarily interested in telling the poignant story of two brothers and a gal they both like. If anyone has ever found themselves caught up in a love triangle—whether real or, as in the case of this episode, imagined—Jake’s actions, although immature, will likely feel relatable. It is a cheesy cliché, but the story’s strength is that it all feels so real (which I recognize is a funny thing to say about a cartoon dog and his unicorn-rainbow beau).

“My Two Favorite People” is the first episode that really features Lady Rainicorn as a mover of the plot rather than just a fun side character, and it is a wonderful showcase for her. While a handful of later installments—namely season four’s “Lady & Peebles” and season eighth’s “Lady Raincorn of the Crystal Dimension”—would try to highlight Lady, “My Two Favorite People” is arguably the character’s funniest episodes, thanks in large part to her use of a universal translator, which allows the other characters to understand her. To some, a device such as this may seem like a cop-out, but storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward cleverly preempt this criticism by making the device’s only useable setting one that gives Lady the voice of a great-great grandfather. Lady’s “old-man voice” is an episode highlight, and it makes many of the character’s lines (e.g., “Come on my darling! Wrap your legs around me!”) both hilarious and unsettling. (4 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 10. “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” (692-010)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: During the production of season one Ward exerted considerable effort trying to shepherd the show’s crew in a coherent direction, all the while responding to critiques levelled by dozens of Cartoon Network executives. Many of these critiques were contradictory, and in the process of creating something that he was proud of while also appeasing everyone around him, Ward very nearly went bananas. The experience provided the bedrock for “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain,” and to anyone who has been given the arduous task of pleasing a whole slew of prickly critics, the episode will be immediately relatable.

In terms of the show’s budding mythology, “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” is notable because it firmly establishes that Finn was adopted as a baby by Jake’s canine parents, Joshua and Margaret. This plot point was likely guided less by worldbuilding and more by humor (perhaps playing on the whole “raised by wolves” idiom). Nevertheless, this decision would have major ramifications for the show’s overarching narrative. Finn’s nature as the only human in Ooo was no longer a silly afterthought—it was now a mystery. Just who is Finn the Human, and where did he come from? These questions would linger for seasons, finally culminating in season eight’s touching miniseries Islands. (4 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 11. “Wizard” (692-020)

Airdate: May 10, 2010

Production Information: Pete Browngardt, Adam Muto, and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Wizard”—co-storyboarded by Pete Browngardt, an artist who storyboarded on Chowder and The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack before creating the divisive Uncle Grandpa for Cartoon Network—is an absolute bonkers installment that throws logic out the window by giving Finn and Jake magical powers. It is a plot setup almost guaranteed to be fun, and you can tell that the writers likely a good time coming up with increasingly asinine magical powers (e.g., “endless mayonnaise”).

But underneath all the distraught dust motes and captivating new hairstyles, “Wizard” also has a degree of depth, reading like a biting commentary on higher education-industrial complex in the United States. It does not seem coincidental that the strategies employ by Bufo’s scam wizard school are strikingly similar to those used by predatory colleges, which offer students a worthless degree alongside thousands of dollars of debt. The parallels are made stronger when it is revealed that all those whom Bufo has tricked are reluctant to upset the oppressive status quo, because they believe “newfangled thinking will get [everyone] killed”; this eerily mirrors those who downplay the student loan crisis, arguing that “that’s just the system works.” Finn will have none of this, however, and by episode’s end, he—channeling his myriad wizard powers and the vigor of “youth culture”—proves that if a system is broke, it has got to go. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from that. (4 stars‰)

  Season 1, Episode 12. “Evicted!” (692-003)

Airdate: May 17, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Adam Muto (story writer); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Evicted!” is considered a classic by most Adventure Time fans for one simple reason: It introduces the audience to Marceline the Vampire Queen. This iconic undead rocker chick managed to steal the spotlight whenever she appeared in an episode, and eventually she became one of the show’s more well-regarded characters. Given all this, there is some irony to the fact that in her debut, Marceline is the antagonist who steals our heroic duo’s beloved Tree Fort. Marceline is therefore similar to other season one baddies in that she tests Finn and Jake’s patience before engaging them in direct combat. But Marceline is set apart from other foes in how Finn and Jake defeat her—namely, that they do not. In fact, she pounds them into the ground almost effortlessly! Besting Finn and Jake is no easy task, meaning that while “Evicted!” might showcase Marceline’s nastier side, it nevertheless does an excellent job emphasizing how much of a badass she is; this goes a long way in explaining the character’s huge popularity.

But Marceline alone cannot an episode make. Luckily, “Evicted!” is further bolstered by several excellent design choices, including a bevy of fun background critters whipped up by character designer Tom Herpich, a slew of colorful background designs courtesy of Ghostshrimp and Santino Lascano, and a killer soundtrack. Regarding the latter, the stand-out tune is inarguably “House Hunting Song,” a comically overblown ballad detailing Finn and Jake’s arduous quest to find a new place to live. The song, sung mostly by Ward with a few lines delivered by Olson, is an emotion-laden earworm guaranteed to wiggle its way into your brain. (I mean, how can you not love a song that blames the murderous tendencies of vampires on simply being “burnt out on dealing with mortals”?) It very much is the blood-red cherry on top of everything, which helps to make “Evicted!” one of the season’s strongest episodes. (5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 13. “City of Thieves” (692-012)

Airdate: May 24, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “City of Thieves” is a workable if somewhat forgettable mid-season entry. The episode’s main strength is its titular setting, a bizarro municipality where theft is the law of the land. Unfortunately, the city is nothing more than a silly plot device, and the episode itself never really rises above “fine.” (2.5 stars‰)

  Season 1, Episode 14. “The Witch’s Garden” (692-022)

Airdate: June 7, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto, Kent Osborne, and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: If you think the idea of Jake sassing Ooo’s cattiest witch is funny in and of itself, wait until you see this episode’s visuals. From Jake’s grotesque but silly “manbaby body” to the abject horror of Gary the Mermaid Queen, “The Witch’s Garden” is replete with several memorable character designs that make it a satisfying entry. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 15. “What Is Life?” (692-017)

Airdate: June 14, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Armen Mirzaian (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Giving Finn and Ice King a son is not a move that I thought Adventure Time would ever make, let alone in the first season, but here we are. The bouncing baby boy in question is actually a clunky robot named NEPTR, voiced to sadsack perfection by comedian and musician Andy Milonakis. If you had told me prior to this episode that Milonakis could give a sentient microwave a sense of pathos, I would have never believed you, but in “What Is Life?” he does a commendable job conveying NEPTR’s pitiful nature. As for the episode itself, “What Is Life?” is a solid entry that introduces viewers to several recurring characters (one of whom being Gunter the penguin) while offering us a peek into the Ice King’s sad, lonely mind. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 16. “Ocean of Fear” (692-025)

Airdate: June 21, 2010

Production Information: J. G. Quintel and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Oceans of Fear”—storyboarded by Cole Sanchez and J. G. Quintel, the latter of whom would go on to create Regular Show for Cartoon Network—is in an interesting installment that establishes Finn’s fear of the ocean, reminding the viewer that even great heroes will be forced to deal with irrational phobias at some point in their life. The character designs in this episode are quite amusing (with the standout being Finn’s grotesque “fear of the Ocean” face), and Mark Hamill, as always, does a wonderful job, using his trademark “Joker voice” to give the Fear Feaster a delightful air of villainy. But as with “Business Time,” many of these elements are upstaged by the episodes’ post-apocalyptic trappings. In fact, when I watched the episode for the first time, I paused it in several places, asking to myself, “Is that a wrecked battleship? Is that a bombed-out tank? Why are there ruins of a city underwater?” It is an understatement to say that this episode is positively littered with rusted debris and centuries-old detritus that testifies to Ooo’s traumatic history. For eagle-eyed fans hoping to piece together Adventure Time’s mysterious mythology, this episode is an absolute hoot. (‰3.5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 17. “When Wedding Bells Thaw” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: One of the first episodes to team Ice King up with Finn and Jake, “When Wedding Bells Thaw” is a goofy lampooning of bachelor parties and the institution of marriage in general. Although the episode ends on a fairly predictive note (spoiler alert: Ice King tricked his fiancée into marriage), seeing Ice King get along with our heroes is charming, and in many ways it presages the Ice King’s future character growth. The episode’s strongest part is the short dialogue-free montage near the middle depicting Finn, Jake, and Ice King getting into all sorts of “manlorette party” shenanigans; this sequence is made all the stronger by Tim Kiefer’s chiptune score, which enlivens the party with a burst of synthesizers and electro-drums. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 18. “Dungeon” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: If there is one episode that feels like the entirety of Adventure Time’s first season distilled down into 11 minutes, then it would be “Dungeon.” An episode replete with outrageous monsters and wacky action, “Dungeon” is a high-energy installment that pays homage to the sprawling world of table-top gaming; indeed, it is not hard to imagine storyboard artists Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto reaching for a D20 or a well-worn copy of the Monster Manual whenever it came time to block out a new scene. Stand-out moments from this episode include Finn’s encounter with the Demon Cat (famous for having “approximate knowledge of many things”), his visitation by a “guardian angel,” and the deus ex machina ending that see Princess Bubblegum swoop in to save the day. (“Get on my swan!”) And amidst all the silliness, “Dungeon” even manages to sneak in a sweet little message tucked snuggly in between all the wacky monsters about the importance of recognizing your weaknesses. (‰4.5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 19. “The Duke” (692-023)

Airdate: July 12, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: For most of season one, the audience is presented a version of Princess Bubblegum that is bright, effervescent, and totally nonthreatening; the monarch, it seems, is as aggressive as a marshmallow. But in “The Duke,” this all changes, and we finally get to see the princess’s darker, authoritarian side. Unhinged Princess Bubblegum is quite a sight to behold (as is the sight of green-and-bald Bubblegum), but it adds another layer of to the saccharine sovereign, setting her up for substantial character development a few seasons down the road. (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 20. “Freak City” (692-008)

Airdate: July 26, 2010

Production Information: Tom Herpich and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Freak City” introduces the audience to Magic Man, a deranged and flamboyant Martian wizard known for meaninglessly harassing the citizens of Ooo. Although the character’s backstory would be fleshed out in later seasons and eventually come to play a major part in the mythology of the series, this episode was storyboarded well before these developments were dreamed up, meaning that here, Magic Man functions as a simple (albeit funny) villain-of-the-week whose nihilistic tendencies clash wonderfully with Finn’s optimistic worldview. Finn is so used to dividing the world up into “good guys” and “evil guys,” but his run-in with Magic Man is proof that morality is far more confusing than he would like to believe. The main problem is that Magic Man is not really evil: He is clinically insane—a violent psychopath—who does not care about his actions impacting others. No climactic fight or eleventh-hour pep talk is enough to fix him.

On top of this rather weighty consideration of morality and mental instability, “Freak City” contains another, more straightforward message about the power of teamwork and how people should work as one to overcome common problems. Storyboard artists Pendleton Ward and Tom Herpich have quite a bit of fun taking the idiom literally by forcing Finn and the other denizens of Freak City pile on top of one another to function as a single, grotesque being that is capable of fighting Magic Man. While “Freak City” loses some points for espousing rhetoric that folks who are depressed can simply will themselves out of their funk, it makes up for these deficits elsewhere with its character designs—ranging from the inside-out bird to the two-headed monster that Finn groin-strikes—which are all bizarre in the best, most creative way possible. (3.5 stars‰)

  Season 1, Episode 21. “Donny” (692-018)

Airdate: August 9, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto, Kent Osborne, and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: A rather forgettable protagonist and only a smattering of memorable lines make “Donny” the season’s weakest link. The episode does get points for introducing us to “whywolves” (“Creatures possessed by the spirit of inquiry—and bloodlust!”), but they are not enough to completely save it from mediocrity. (2 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 22. “Henchman” (692-021)

Airdate: August 23, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: While “Evicted!” depicted Marceline as an apathetic asshole, “Henchman” starts to soften the vampire queen by showing that her evil exterior is an elaborate facade, and that deep down she is really just a prank-loving trickster—or, as Finn puts it, “a radical dame who likes to play games.” This might seem nothing more than a subtle tweak, but it does wonders for Marceline’s characterization; by episode’s end, as Finn and his vampiric “master” chat quite cheerfully in a field of strawberries, it is clear that the writers are setting up Marceline to become a legitimate pal to Finn and Jake, rather than just an avatar of chaos who drops in every once in awhile to shake things up. This was a wise decision, as it provided Marceline with the chance to grow into a hero in her own right with whom the audience can happily cheer along.

Since “Henchman” is predicated on Marceline pranking Finn, storyboard artists Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez have a great deal of fun mocking up outrageous scenarios that seem evil at first glance, but are revealed to be quite benign. Perhaps the funniest of these situations is Marceline raising an army of undead skeletons only to throw them a concert, and the vampire queen’s demand that Finn kill a little dimple-plant, which looks like a cutie before it turns into an Audrey II-esque abomination from John Carpenter’s darkest nightmares. (4 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 23. “Rainy Day Daydream” (692-002)

Airdate: September 6, 2010

Production Information: Pendleton Ward (storyboard artist); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Rainy Day Daydream” is a beautiful representation of creativity in its purest form. Channeling his love of multilevel video games and Dungeons and Dragons, solo storyboard artist and series creator Pendleton Ward uses the pretext of Jake’s imagination affecting reality as an opportunity to bounce from one ridiculous plot point to another to great effect. The whole thing feels like an exercise in jovial spontaneity, and while “writing the story as you go” can sometime result in disjointed or sloppy final products, here Ward makes it work, using the approach to illustrate the almost limitless potential of imagination. Another strength of the episode is the way it throws dozens of ridiculous obstacles at Finn and Jake without the aid of equally ridiculous visuals; in fact, almost every hindrance in the episode is invisible to both Finn and the audience, and we only learn what is going on thanks to Jake’s narration. The fact that this approach works and is not boring is a testament to Ward’s skills as a storyteller and dialogue writer. (‰4.5 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 24. “What Have You Done?” (692-027)

Airdate: September 13, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: In addition to providing us with another glimpse of Bubblegum’s dark side, “What Have You Done?” also serves as an interesting meditation on morality and preemptive punishment. As earlier episodes have confirmed, the Ice King is a creepy little deviant, but is it right for Finn and Jake to imprison him without a cause? This is a real legal question, and the show handles it in a surprisingly sophisticated way, concluding more or less that the writ of habeas corpus must be preserved. Of course, this is all undermined to some degree when we learn that the Ice King actually is to blame, but thanks to some quick thinking on the part of Finn, our heroes are able to save the day without having to turn to the carceral powers of the state. (And people say Adventure Time is not sophisticated...) (3 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 25. “His Hero” (692-026)

Airdate: September 20, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto, Kent Osborne, and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Who is the greatest hero ever? If you answered, “Finn!” it is obvious that you have yet to see “His Hero,” for the correct answer is Billy, of course! Lou Ferrigno guest stars in this episode as the aforementioned defender of Ooo, enlivening the character with his distinctive voice. As for the episode itself, storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Niki Yang—with an assist from the ever-dependable Adam Muto—produce some of their best work this season, filling each scene with witty dialogue and zany shenanigans. Arguably, the episode’s pièce de resistance is the short montage of Billy’s past achievements, which plays alongside a song, sung by Muto, extolling the hero’s greatness; energetic and wacky, the song in many ways typifies the “chaotic heroism” that defined the show’s first season.

Like many other first-season episodes, “His Hero” ends with a counterintuitive “anti-moral,” stressing that while a commitment to non-violence might seem subversive on the surface, it is actually an ineffective way to make the world a better place; instead, the episode argues that direct physical action—i.e., beating the snot out of monsters and bad guys—is necessary if heroes want to save people from oppression. This may all come across as contrarian silliness, but I would argue that it is profoundly radical, rejecting “common sense” ideals about peace that really only help those in positions of power. (Side note, if the kids who grew up watching Adventure Time turn into a bunch of revolutionaries, I think we will know the cause.) (4 stars)

  Season 1, Episode 26. “Gut Grinder” (692-024)

Airdate: September 27, 2010

Production Information: Ako Castuera and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Much like “Ricardio the Heart Guy,” this episode suffers due to a lack of a solid mystery; from the start, it seems obvious that Jake is not the one responsible for the robberies. Furthermore, the reveal that Sharon is the one behind the robberies comes with almost no dramatical weight, since we have no idea who she is. The whole thing is forgettable, which is a shame given that this is the season finale. (2 stars)

(Huge shout out to @sometipsygnostalgic​ for reading over these a few months ago and offering feedback. Also, I want to thank @j4gm​ for posting his “Slumber Party Panic” review, which made me remember these write-ups!)

[your--isgayrights]

not sure if this is what you had in mind but i was thinking maybe kdj and hsy meeting briefly earlier in life (at 20/22 years old or sth)? maybe having a misunderstanding or an argument over something trivial (like interpretation of a book or who should take the last lemon flavored popsicle in the store) and somehow still managing to reach some recognition or understanding of each other. years later they would forget about each other but still remember that bizarre situation sometimes. i have no idea if that makes any sense but i believe in your writing and massive brain and powerful swag. xoxo

Aaaaah, Exe I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you asked for... I was just like... what if that time Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja almost met in the epilogue went a little differently and like... haha...

The first part is basically copied and pasted from that chapter before the twist, so go read that first if you haven't!

Han Su-Yeong staggered and walked closer to Kim Dok-Ja. Several passersby brushing past her looked back in suspicion.

Kim Dok-Ja was now walking down the subway’s steps.

Kim Dok-Ja, with earphones stuck in his ears and reading something on his phone while walking downstairs.

She knew what he was currently reading.

“—!!”

She barely managed to shout, but her voice still didn’t come out. So, she desperately chased after him.

Because of the story you wrote, author-nim, I was able to survive until now. Han Su-Yeong was also able to survive while reading the sole reader’s words.

She managed to write the next part of Yu Jung-Hyeok’s life through them.

She was able to endure her boring and stuffy teen years, the days she never wanted to go back to, thanks to those words.

This train is bound for… She spotted Kim Dok-Ja standing on the platform, waiting for the next train to arrive. A person hiding within the small world crafted out of letters to protect himself was standing right there.

Kim Dok-Ja, who didn’t know anything about the apocalypse about to happen.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to live on the expansive world of the ‘Ways of Survival’.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to meet the protagonist he so longed to become.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d become the ‘Demon King of Salvation’.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d sacrifice himself multiple times for the sake of his companions, and as a result, came to the 1863rd turn and met her.

Kim Dok-Ja, who was destined to become the ‘Most Ancient Dream’, the price he paid for loving a certain story too much.

[Your mental state is crumbling!]

[The main body’s ego is regaining its control.]

[Your Fable is being extinguished.]

Her legs grew heavy, and her arms didn’t want to move anymore. Her body was gradually becoming not hers.

Even then, Han Su-Yeong wanted to tell him.

⸢To tell him that he was definitely not at fault for this story being born. And to tell him that the things he was about to experience were not his sins.⸥

Because, her past 13 years existed solely to say those words to him.

⸢To say that, though you have grown up while reading this story, there’s no need for you to become it.⸥

She barely managed to muster up her strength, her arm coiling in on itself and preparing for her one last willful action.

[Your ego will convert into the ‘subconsciousness’.]

As she set her weak, pre-scenario body into that final decisive movement...

The twenty six year old Han Su-yeong who knew nothing of the soon to come apocalypse, woke up thrusting her fist forward into the face of some guy on the subway.

She would've thought she was still dreaming, if it hadn't been for the feeling of his soft cheek slamming against the hard bone of his teeth under the force of her balled up hand.

'What the hell? Why am I doing this?'

Han Su-yeong most likely would have asked herself these things if she had any more time to think before her punch had landed.

She got her answer, though. Despite never asking her question, that reason she was looking for became clear as the man staggered off his balance.

He made a futile attempt to right himself before being knocked to the ground. The phone that he had been holding so close to his face clattering screen-side up onto the concrete of the subway floor.

That was when she saw it.

She only had to read a snippet of the words on that phone screen to come up with an explanation for her own actions at that very moment.

[There are three ways to survive in a ruined world. Now, I have forgotten a few, but one thing is certain. The fact that you who are reading this now will survive.

-Three ways to survive in a ruined world

Author’s words: Thank you so much for reading ‘Ways of Survival’ up to here. I will come back to you with an epilogue!]

'Ways of Survival.' 'Three ways to survive in a ruined world.'

...

Yes, there was no doubt that this guy sat on the subway floor rubbing at his cheek deserved it.

Some latent evil of the world must be working to Han Su-yeong's advantage, because none of the commuter passing by spared her a second glance as she sorted out her own motives. They simply dodged around her and the man she had assaulted moments ago.

If Han Su-yeong had to write some train of thought into their actions, she might imagine these negligent bystanders saw something like an overly dramatic lover's spat. Something personal that they ought not get involved in.

Were it not for the pervasiveness of such a cliche recurrent in physical altercations between men and women, maybe they would see it for what it was. A question of honor between authors.

Because Han Su-yeong was certain that was who this man was. An author who was so shitty that he had created an alt to try and hype up his terrible novel.

That was right... It was years ago now, but Han Su-yeong remembered that unsubstantiated accusation of plagiarism on her first published webnovel, SSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor.

This shitty guy had made an alt account that was so obvious... it was something 'Dok-ja,' like he wasn't even trying to pretend he didn't make it just to pretend to 'read' his own webnovel...

If that didn't prove it, then it was also clear from the comments that he had left on every single chapter. When she was reading them, Han Su-yeong had known that if she were such a bad author that she would have to have just one reader, the words that he wrote represented that perfect amount of reader to author engagement that she would have desired.

But that sort of relationship... it was unrealistic. Han Su-yeong had been an author for something like 13 years now, and she had never had such a relationship in her entire career.

So it was obvious that a reader like that could only be written by an author with those same desires that she held.

And then he even had the nerve to wander out of his self contained fantasy, accusing her superior work of plagiarizing his shitty one just to draw in more views and commenters.

So of course he had a lot of nerve to be rereading his own damn author's note right where she could see hi-

"Can I help you?"

Han Su-yeong felt all of the hot air she had been blowing herself up with to justify her current situation deflate upon hearing that voice of his.

The man she'd injured looked up at her with hollow black eyes. Eyes that perhaps had only seemed bright while being illuminated by a screen.

His voice was mild, too. As if getting punched in the face were something that was merely tiresome to him, instead of something to stir anger or indignity. The reactions that Han Su-yeong had been mentally preparing herself to butt heads with.

Nothing about his reaction seemed to ask Han Su-yeong for her motives. There was no race to find an explanation behind those hollow eyes. No bit lip, straining to come up with a turn of phrase to become an appropriately biting retort.

This guy wasn't an author.

...

Hey...

Why had she punched this guy again?

"Sorry." Han Su-yeong found herself saying, as her body deflated, extended arm going back to her side. "From the behind, you looked like my shitty ex."

She let herself fall into the cliche.

"Ah. I see."

Han Su-yeong hated the guy's expression, just then.

It was one that said, 'Well isn't that just my luck?'

But she couldn't help but watch, as this unlucky guy stood up and picked up his phone, brushing it off instead of himself, as if it were more precious to him than his own body.

And when that Dok-ja turned around, Han Su-yeong only saw his back for a second, before the sight of him was once more swallowed up by the uncaring world of the subway station crowd.

[crystalirises]

Nothing Left to Lose

“Fundy, you’re angry, I get it. Believe me, I know what it’s like, but you are making a mistake!”

His fiance’s soon to be ex-fiance, he says to himself words barely pierce through the crackle of flames. The flint and steel felt heavy in his hands. For a moment, the forest before him changed into the vision of a flag burning brightly against a dark sky as screams of agony reached his ears. That felt like another lifetime ago.

“The path of hate is a dangerous track. You take one step, and it’s hard to turn back. It pulls you along, and though it seems wrong, it feels right.”

He watches it all burn. The trees, the grass, the flowers, everything. He couldn’t be in the wrong, if he was then why did this feel so right? Destruction and fire was all he had left. Why couldn’t they see that?

He almost hopes the inferno reaches that pitiful bunker they had called Pogtopia.

“This path you’re on leaves a permanent mark. It feels good at first, then it slowly turns dark. With each passing day, you’re further astray from the light.”

If he takes this path then he’d finally be remembered. He’d finally have recognition. And... and... his fiance was right. This does feel good. Why... why couldn’t he just be happy for him?

Nobody respects him. Not even his own damn fiance. All he’ll ever be in history is the great General Wilbur Soot’s son.

“Suddenly, you lose your way and lose the thread, lose your cool and lose your head. Every loss is harder to excuse.”

Lose. Lose. Lose. Lose?! All he’s ever done in his life is lose. He lost his mother. He lost his childhood to a war he never wanted to fight in. He lost his fox. He lost to a duel. He lost his chance at presidency. He lost his friends. He lost his morals. He lost the only man he thought he could believe in. He lost his home. And now he’s lost his—

You left me, Wilbur.

“Then you'll see, you'll lose your faith and lose your soul. Till you lose complete control, and realize there’s nothing left to lose. Nothing left to lose.”

But that was the truth, wasn’t it? Fundy had nothing left to lose. And Dream was wrong.

He had never felt as more in control as he did now.

“Fundy, trust me, becoming the villain isn't the answer!” He felt a calloused hand touch his shoulder. It felt cold. Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff you destroyed my home and celebrated

“Is that what you think I am?” He moves away, seething rage bubbling in his throat at the thought. The thought. What? He didn’t deserve to be mad? After everything— After everything they put him through— 

Maybe he did deserve to be the villain.

“The path I’m on is a path paved in black. I’m taking that road and I’m not looking back. Each twist and each turn leads straight where I’m yearning to go.”

He seethes, tears threatening to spill past his eyes. All he ever wanted was recognition. From his family. From his father. From his fiance. Dream stares at him, face hidden behind that stupid, white smiley mask he never dared take off. Fundy feels the urge to take it off of him, just to see a smidgen of emotion. Did Dream even care or was he just here to stop Fundy from causing another war?

Did Dream ever even love him?

“Yes, it's true, my path is dark but I see where it ends. My rivals will fall as my power ascends. Despise me, that's fine. I'm taking what's mine even so.”

Tubbo and Tommy were children, Fundy practically grew up with them. He remembered how it was... before the war. The three of them would chase each other all across the newly-founded nation of L’Manburg, giggling and screaming each time one of them tripped on accident. Dad WIlbur would watch them, playing a soft tune on his guitar, a content smile on his face.

Then came the war. Wilbur anointed Tommy as his right hand man. What did Fundy get?

Who’s my little champion?

Then came the end of the war. The Final War. The war that took his father’s life away. Wilbur gave Tubbo presidency, and what did Fundy get?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

They may have been friends, perhaps even family when they were younger, but now... All Fundy wanted was to watch New L’Manburg fall, to see Tommy and Tubbo’s faces as they watched their home burn a second time.

Besides, Wilbur promised him the world. And if so, the world was his to burn.

“Not like you. You lost your nerve, you lost the game. But you and I, we’re not the same. I’m not lost, this fate was mine to choose.”

And who was Dream to tell him no? Who was Dream to tell him to stop? Fundy still had those nightmares of the first war. As Dream the Tyrant how did he ever fall in love with that man tore his home down to a rubble.

He still hears the explosions. The screams. Tommy’s near death.

“So I chose to lose my doubts and lose my chains. Lose each weakness that remains. Now that I have nothing left to lose. Nothing left to lose.”

He had nothing left. There was nothing worth his time anymore. Through the wars, his own insecurities and need for validation had forced him into a role he never wanted to take. He had a new start! No more Wilbur. No more Schlatt. No more L’Manburg/Manburg. He had nothing! He could be what he wants! Do what he wants! He—

Well, there was one weakness left.

“You have so much to hold onto.” The diamond ring on Dream’s finger shines brightly against the flames of the forest, not that it meant anything to Fundy anymore. They were done.

“I only want my rightful dues!” If he can’t have L’Manburg the nation his father promised him then no one can have L’Manburg. It was his to rule and his to destroy. Even if he becomes the King of L’Manburg’s ruins, then so be it.

“Listen, please— You’ve lost your grip and lost your mind.” Dream reaches for him, his voice desperate as if he were in the verge of tears. Too bad that Fundy couldn’t see his eyes behind that mask.

“Lose. I’m not gonna lose.”

“All’s not lost, don’t be so blind.” Dream’s hand was rough as it brushed against his own, it’s hold tight as if Dream didn’t want to let him go. Too bad that Fundy couldn’t say he felt the same.

“I refuse.”

“Cut the losses, drop the IOUs.” In another life, in another world, Fundy would’ve stopped. He would hear the despair in his lover’s voice, the promises of a better life if Fundy just stopped with his insane tirade.

This was not that world.

“Choose!” Choose me, choose us, was what Dream left unsaid.

“I lose no tears and lose no sleep. What I want, I’ll take and keep.” Fundy ripped away from Dream’s hold, the forest burning brightly around them as Fundy turned to go.

“It’s time for you to choose!”

Fundy couldn’t leave just yet.

“You can’t stop the turning of the screws.”

For a moment, Dream thought Fundy had snapped back into his senses as he watched him turn around.

“There’s nothing you can say that will stop me. You and I. We’re over. The wedding’s off.”

Dream never thought heartbreak would be this painful.

And neither did Fundy.

“Now, I have nothing left to lose.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello, small songfic idea that I had cause I need to get it out of my head. More Fundywastaken angst ;-;.

And the song used is Nothing Left to Lose from the Tangled: The Series.

Anyway, bye bye!

[lincnok]

Disney Princesses are all excellent role models

Nowadays, we see something called the feminist movement, something that was born to empower young women, and equalize society, a noble cause; now it is nothing like it’s original goal, and some even bash more feminine, or soft spoken women in the fictional media. I have seen many ‘feminists’ go off about how earlier princesses, like Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora and Ariel are all ‘weak’ and are ‘unfit to be role models for young girls’ whilst princesses like Moana and Elsa are praised for their ‘empowerment’. In all of these events, both on the opposite sides of the spectrum, there is barely ever any space for the girls in the middle like Tiana and Pocahontas. Whilst these characters aren’t recognized, some get bashed, and others praised above the rest, which is unfair as they are all excellent role models and here’s why.

(I’m gonna start from the first movie cuz I find it easier that way)

Snow White:

This princess is overlooked and consistently talked about as weaker and ‘less than’, when in actuality, she is as strong a role model as any other. Even in the face of death, she is kind-hearted and care-free, choosing to clean the dwarves home, and never saying one bad word about her step mother. Yes, she did open the door to a stranger and eat the apple, but she was fourteen, and in the original story, had been living with the dwarves for two years, essentially leaving her ‘sheltered’. She lived in the middle of the forest with a group of tiny men for God’s sake, do you really think she would understand the no strangers rule? And even then, eating the apple was something she did out of politeness, rather than stupidity. It was her innocence taken advantage of that got her poisoned, not stupidity or weakness. She is a positive role model because she was able to stay level-headed, polite and innocent, even under severe pressure.

Cinderella:

Now in her story, she is claimed as weak because, in some people’s eyes, she did nothing in the face of abuse. Is that true? Absolutely! But not because she is weak, but because she is strong enough to know when not to fight. She cried and had bad days, but still chose to do the things she was asked in order for things to remain peaceful. She worked hard to achieve what she wanted. When she was told she had to do all her chores and more in one afternoon to go to the ball, she did, and made a dress on top of that. She would’ve gone to the ball anyway if it were not for her step-family’s spite, all she need the fairy godmother for was a change of clothes and a ride. She was honest and hard working, unbending even in the face of abuse and pain, something all girls should aspire to be.

Aurora:

This is the one that gets the worst media, as she had little lines and screen time and ‘slept through her whole movie’. But in all honesty, the girl lived in the forest with three fighting fairies, who did little to help with education and knowledge of the outside world, keeping her as sheltered as possible. She was happy and loveable, with a definite affinity for singing, something she did on the regular. Of course, we don’t get to see much of her personality there, but I’d like to say that she was something of a carefree spirit, happy and optimistic, trying her best to keep others happy too. She was a little boy crazy, yes, but she was fifteen, and Prince Phillip was the first man she had ever seen, so you can’t really blame her for her fascination with him. She had no idea about a curse, and if something possesses you, you don’t really have anything to do about it, and you can’t do anything if you’re asleep for one hundred years. But she kept herself happy and cheerful even in loneliness, as the prince was not only the first male she’d seen but also the first human she’d seen since she was a baby, and yet she was obviously happy, jubilant enough to sing for hours in the forest, despite being alone for most of her life. Happiness can be found in the even in the loneliest of places and that is what Aurora teaches us.

Ariel:

This girl gets bad media too because of her choice at the end of the film. Through out the film, she is presented as a curious soul, wanting to find out how the humans lived, collecting the trinkets and items from the shipwrecks said humans left. She did go too far in her curiosity, though, signing her voice away for legs. But she was eager to learn, and that is something all girls should aim to be. As I said before, she is bashed for making the decision to stay on land and get married, rather than going back home, but that is a very common thing to do, more common that people think. If a girl falls in love with someone in another country, she has every right to stay there with him, and thus Ariel shouldn’t be penalized for something so common and accepted. Her family didn’t condemn her, they came to her wedding and were happy for her. She chose her happiness over cultural norms, and that kind of confidence is something we should all aim to have.

Belle:

Belle isn’t bashed so much as diagnosed, and I feel like that isn’t right to do. I’m not saying that it isn’t true, but there is so much that is ignored about Belle’s story that should be mentioned. Like the fact that she is educated. This is something that was very rare in the time period in which she lived, and she definitely needs to get more recognition because of that. In an essay I read, it was said that she would be the equivalent of the village’s ‘IT guy’ and that is exactly right. When she rejected Gaston, she never said a bad word about him, nor wrote off his affections or was rude, she simply declined, which is something that should be respected and applauded rather than bought down. There is also the fact that she is quite feminine in appearance and picks a decidedly feminine dress despite being raised by a single father, which is a detail I rather liked, as it lets Belle be on both sides of the spectrum, being able to expertly communicate with her male friends, whilst also being ‘girly’ with her female friends, and thus makes her a well rounded character. Her falling in love with the Beast, may have well been a psychological disorder, but it wasn’t like her feelings weren’t reciprocated. And she wasn’t kidnapped. Kidnapping is abduction, meaning that you are taken or held somewhere against your will. She chose to stay. And it wasn’t like she was held in particularly bad conditions, the only condition was that she couldn’t leave. Yes, she was provided an ultimatum, but she chose to stay. And then made the best out of it. The falling in love was a side effect. Belle was educated, but not arrogant, kind and humble, polite and feminine, and those traits are wonderful, and make the princess an incredible role model.

Jasmine:

Jasmine is one of those princesses who is forgotten about, but I’ve come here today to let you know she is an absolute girlboss. In her movie, she was the crown princess, and her family ‘needed’ her to marry so that they could have a king and her dad could retire. But she wanted to marry for love instead of just political power and wealth and thus turned all her suitors away. This meant that she never gained any of the rights she would get if married and had to live in the palace for the rest of her life until she found ‘the one’. And if you pay attention, you’ll realize that Jasmine  was the ruling monarch because Jasmine was royalty and Aladdin was not. She was also only 17 when she became queen, which makes her queendom so much more impactful. Her little outing one the outside gave her that little bit of compassion that she would’ve needed to become a great sultan. She may not have been a warrior, but in terms of political prowess, she was one of the most powerful. She is the ruler that girls should want to look up to and follow, a role model to her community as well as her audience.

Pocahontas:

I don’t really know much about her, but I know enough to say this. In the film (not real life), she made the opposite decision to Ariel, and chose to stay with her tribe rather than stay the man she loved. That was a brave decision, and the fact that she made it in the face of pressure is to be admired.

Mulan:

Ah, yes. The great feminist icon. But the one who gets condemned for having a prince. Yes, she was a great warrior, and yes, she was professional, but that all doesn’t mean she’s not allowed to find love. She can be all those things and still be a mother and a wife, they don’t have to go separately. And, you know what? The fact that she had a prince just made it all the more inspiring, because thats what the #MeToo movement should be about, embracing all kinds of women, and not separating the roles of mother and wife from the roles of leader and independent. Having a husband doesn’t make you any less, and that, among other lessons, is what Mulan teaches us.

Tiana:

Tia should get about as much hype as Mulan, but in reality, she doesn’t. She is very much forgotten about other than the fact that she is black. Her story isn’t about ‘conquering racism’ or anything attributed mainly to ‘black media’, but instead is about a working girl, doing just that, working. She worked hard to achieve her goal, and not once did she even try to take a short cut. She found love along the way, made some friends and lost some friends, impacted some friends for the better, and achieved her goal, no short cuts and a whole lotta jazz music. That’s what the Princess and the Frog is about, working hard to achieve your dreams. That sentiment is something everyone should learn, and the fact that that’s a black girl up there being that role model for us just makes it even better.

Rapunzel:

Rapunzel, the queen of self-isolation. But despite that, she was always happy and optimistic, which is something us cynics could stand to learn about. She was curious, but had some common sense. She was probably the most organized out of all the Disney princesses, as she had a set schedule for everything. She was probably the most artistically gifted as well. She definitely not stupid, but instead innocent and gullible, but capable of defending herself and running a good negotiation. She could’ve been a lawyer! She was a perfect example of someone talented using their talents to better the people and that’s what makes her someone to look up to.

Merida:

Another warrior, except this time, set in Scotland without a prince. You guys know the story. Bought up in a home where all she was expected to do was get married and have kids, Merida yearned to be outside with her bow and arrow, but instead was told no. Eventually, tired of the pressure, she goes to a witch to get a charm to make make her mother more lenient. Instead, the charm turns her mother into a bear, and turns her curious little brothers into bear cubs. The race is on for Merida to get the cure before it is too late. She successfully cures her mother and brothers, fights the evil Mor’du and comes to appreciate her mother more. This little family story shows a headstrong girl getting love and affection from her family without condescending, and the best interests at heart. She sets of to fix her own mistake, something still not really shown in media. She teaches girls to love their family even when you don’t agree, stand up for themselves, take responsibility for their actions and try their best to fix their mistakes.

Elsa: 

I’ll start with her because this list is oldest to youngest. Another Princess without a Prince, she’s actually a queen for most of the movie, and isn’t even the mainest main character. She still teaches girls something. With her headstrong character, she was morally sound despite dealing with an immense feeling of self-hatred and fear. Only when she really broke did she ever intend to hurt anyone. She shows you how to be yourself in spite of the of the danger. She is brave and strong, with powerful abilities and love for her sister.

Anna:

Anna isn’t in the spotlight as much as Elsa was, seemingly naïve and gullible. Except, you have to realize that Anna is that she was left literally alone for God knows how long. Hans was the first person she’d met and liked who didn’t leave her alone. She liked him a lot, and it is believable that she would’ve said yes to Hans when he proposed. But still, as the story went on she became more mature, but didn’t lose her childlike spirit. She teaches us to go to the ends of the Earth for the ones you love, but to not be a push-over. To stand firm in the face of danger, but to not be reckless. Anna teaches us what true love is.

Moana:

“If I go there’s just no telling how far I go!” Moana is an adventurous soul, unafraid of nonconformity, and in love with the great unknown. She falls in love with the sea, and, even though she is prohibited, follows her dreams. She is the picture of determination and willingness to go out into the unknown, and she isn’t afraid to be herself, even amidst hardships, rejection and danger. Such a sprit is something to admire and aspire to have.

Every last one of the girls on my list is a role model and I hope you now understand why. So don’t look down on a little girl when she says her favorite princess is Cinderella. Don’t cuss out the little black girl who says she wants to be Snow White for Halloween even when there’s a princess that looks like you or vice versa. Don’t roll your eyes at the girl who says she likes Anna better than Elsa, or she wants to be a queen like Jasmine. Don’t hate on these characters because of circumstances they couldn’t control or because they’re not like you, because every single one of them is and can be a role model to a little girl, they all just cater to different types. Yes, the Disney princess line isn’t all representing, and many of these tales are taken out of context or made more light hearted, but no matter what the story is, these girls are their own characters and we should respect that, and everyones opinions on them.

Aight, I’m out.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 4

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

“...His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself...” Eivor whispered in fascination, repeating the seeress’ prediction under his breath. At the moment, he was lying in bed after waking up from a long night of vivid dreams and visions, mindlessly tracing a series of words in the air above him as he conjured a poem about his new friend.

“I wish you could’ve met him, father.” He thought aloud. “He was... unlike any other man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. A warrior’s hugr entrapped within the shell of a human, kindled by the heart of a benevolent spirit. His unyielding gaze holding you in place as the songs of those long lost flutter from his lips. A man who seems to be from this world, and yet, beholds it with the look of an outsider.”

Eivor rolled onto his side, staring at the charms sitting beside his bed as his hair spread out underneath him like a fan made of flaxen twine.

“...Was Sigurd the man Ingrida saw in her dream? He must have been. He matched her words exactly. But... how does the wolf fit into all this? Who does the beast represent? Who would try to harm him? And why?”

Part of Eivor suspected it could’ve even been himself that the seeress’ vision was trying to convey, considering his rather violent past with wolves, but... surely that couldn’t be right. Sigurd was to live among them as an ally in the future. What reason would he have to go against him? 

...No. It must’ve been someone else. Kjotve possibly? Or his son, Gorm? Eivor wasn’t sure anymore. And frankly, he didn’t want to think about it. 

So much was already clouding his mind with thoughts of impending war and death. Many of their people had fallen to Kjotve’s axe in the past decade, and he only hoped that this marriage would be the key to finally wiping him off the face of the earth. To think that Ingrida’s warning could become a reality... it was a concern that Eivor wished to push aside for the moment.

He had enough to worry about aside from the seeress’ visions, and he didn’t want to lend them anymore merit.

Tearing himself away from the bed’s soft embrace, Eivor finally decided to carry on with his day and slipped out from underneath the layers of pelts piled on top of him, reaching for his boots.

His eyelids sagged with a heavy sense of fatigue due to the restless night he had to endure, and he felt his body being weighed down by a strong desire to return to sleep. Despite his lack of energy however, Eivor couldn’t deny that he was curious to see whether or not he’d bump into Sigurd again.

The man seemed to operate on a tight schedule filled to the brim with royal duties, but Eivor was secretly hoping that he’d be able to catch him in between. He may have been restraining himself from taking things any further with Sigurd, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to spend more time with him.

He just hoped he wouldn’t come across as clingy. He already found himself feeling more attached to the prince than what was probably wise, and he didn’t even know if the man returned his affections. Sigurd claimed that he would’ve liked to see Eivor again, but even then, the younger man wanted to maintain a reasonable amount of distance between them.

The wedding was less than two weeks away, after all. If any of their plans happened to deteriorate before then, Eivor wasn’t sure they’d have any time to recuperate. Kjotve’s longships still threatened the borders of their seas despite their brewing alliance, and any distractions would’ve simply given them the opening they needed.

Eivor had to stay focused for both his sister and his clan. His current responsibilities consisted of nothing more than providing a reliable axe should the need for war arise, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Stepping away from the limits of the longhouse, Eivor slowly made his way to the top of the hill that he frequented so often as Synin followed him from the skies above, accompanying him with no more than a distant shadow that slithered across the ground.

The morning air was crisp with a frigid breeze that pinched Eivor’s skin and reinforced the snow on Bjornheimr’s meadows, covering the land in a scintillating sea of white. 

Meanwhile, the sun stood proudly above the sleepy village and combatted the arctic environment with a gentle summer’s kiss, thawing the many icicles that dangled from the longhouse’s roof ever so slightly.

As for Eivor, the young man trekked through the icy weather with little to no issue thanks to his fur cloak and climbed the hill’s gradual incline, adapting quickly to its uneven terrain.

He may have been tired, but the frosty sensation of the morning’s touch managed to revitalize his mind, and stimulate him with a chilled gust. It reawakened the parts of his brain that stayed enveloped in a deep slumber, and filled his lungs with a piercing breath of fresh air that caused him to sigh in contentment.

What awaited him at the top of the hill however, surprised him more than anything else.

Sitting alone on the very same bench from the previous night, Eivor spotted Sigurd admiring the angelic daybreak in front of him as loose strands of his hair billowed softly in the breeze, dancing in unison with the fur on his cloak. 

His staunch figure had darkened into a silhouette due to the sun’s contrasting light, and his head remained bowed beneath his broad shoulders in a serene manner. 

He appeared to be completely at peace despite the gravity of his purpose in Bjornheimr, and basked in the golden rays that peeked over the horizon. He was completely motionless in the fjord’s presence, but seemed to travel freely with the stretches of his imagination.

Though, Eivor could only wonder whether Sigurd was here for the view, or for the man himself.

“Hello, Gunnar.” The younger man teased, making the prince throw a glance over his shoulder.

Sigurd’s expression instantly brightened at the sight of his new friend, and a light chuckle escaped his mouth. “Ah, hello, Eivor. It’s good to see you again.”

Eivor strolled towards the bench, gesturing to the nature in front of them.

“Come to enjoy the view?”

“Indeed,” Sigurd said, rising from his seat. “I just finished making an offering to Njord at your temple for our safe journey, and wished to see what it looked like during the day. I have to say, it’s just as beautiful as when you brought me here last night.”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a casual fashion. “You stopped by the temple? Did you meet our seeress?”

Sigurd nodded. “Ingrida approached me, yes. She’s... enthralling, that woman. I have to admit, I’m not sure what to make of her yet. When she first reached out to me, she seemed... hesitant. Frightened, almost. A strange sense of recognition held onto her gaze, and she spoke as if she knew me. As if... she had seen me before.”

The younger man withheld his knowledge about Ingrida’s vision, uncertain of how Sigurd would react to it. “Is that so? What did she say?”

“Ingrida referred to me as ‘the one who walked with Tyr.’ She mentioned a wolf similar to Fenrir, and even brought up something about Freya’s collapse. I’m not entirely sure what she meant by those statements, but her wariness was quite plain.”

Eivor shrugged in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you are, but you’ll have to forgive her. Ingrida can be rather paranoid sometimes. Try not to take it personally.”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “I’m more concerned than I am offended. Even though I’m aware that many people will dismiss seeresses these days, their instincts tend to be accurate. It just makes me wonder what the gods revealed to Ingrida to make her so cautious around me.”

“Well, you are a prince. Trouble has a habit of following royalty even if they don’t intend it.”

Sigurd let out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

The older man suddenly paused, giving his friend a tentative look as another subject crossed his mind. “I-I hope I’m not intruding on your daily routine, by the way. I know you come to this hill for solitude.”

Eivor shook his head, reassuring Sigurd with a welcoming smile. “You’re free to spend as much time here as you please. In fact, I’m happy to run into you again. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Sigurd laughed. “Likewise.” 

“How did things go with your father, anyway? When you returned to him, I mean.”

The prince waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, about as well as you’d expect. He berated me for being improper and ‘making a fool of myself’ on our first day here. He quickly shooed me away from the feast and told me to find a change of clothes before getting anywhere near Randvi again. Overall though, he wasn’t as harsh as I expected. I think it’s because Arngeir was present.”

Eivor gazed downwards out of guilt. “I hope the king isn’t too angry with me.”

“Have no fear. My father doesn’t even know you were involved. As far as he’s concerned, I spilled that mead on myself. Dag didn’t say anything either.”

The younger man stared at Sigurd in gratitude, admittedly surprised that he would omit his name from their late-night shenanigans.

“That’s... very kind of you. Thank you.”

Sigurd grinned at him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Well, you can repay me with a round of drinks some other time. For now though, let us simply put it behind us.”

The redheaded man turned his head towards the other end of the village and gazed into the nearby woods, bringing up a rather tempting proposal.

“Hey, Eivor. How would you like to join me for a ride?”

Eivor’s head perked up at that. “A ride? Now?”

Sigurd shrugged innocently. “Why not? My father wants to give our clan a chance to get everything in order before proceeding with this marriage, so I have the day off. I was going to explore the forests around the village on my own, but I’d love to have some company.”

“Where were you thinking of going?”

The prince pointed to a distant landmark. “The waterfall to the north. I caught a glimpse of it while I was at the temple, and I’d like to explore it some more. Care to come along?”

Eivor hesitated with his response, practically having to catch the words in his throat before they could leap out.

It was no question that he would’ve loved to accompany Sigurd on a quick jaunt throughout the woods, but he knew that such an interaction would’ve likely caused his feelings to swell even further. The man’s presence alone was enough to send Eivor into a frenzied state of infatuation, and he didn’t know if it would be wise to indulge in his endearment anymore.

But... he wondered if it would be possible to pursue a platonic relationship with Sigurd. It wouldn’t have been the first time Eivor was forced to stifle his feelings for someone, and it wasn’t as if they had a lot of time to get to know each other anyway.

He might have been interested in the man for now, but Eivor assumed his passion would soon vanish. Their gallivanting would only last for so long before the political troubles of Kjotve’s men rose again, and by then, the young man imagined his mind would’ve drifted onto other subjects already.

At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.

“Alright, Sigurd.” Eivor finally agreed. “I’ll join you.”

The prince smiled joyously. “Wonderful.” He began strolling away from the bench, walking past Eivor as he headed down the hill. “Come. Walk with me to the stables. We’ll take our leave from there.”

The other man followed suit and glanced upwards at Synin, beckoning her to glide along with them.

“I’m ready when you are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE OUTSKIRTS OF BJORNHEIMR

Trotting calmly through the forest, Eivor and Sigurd rode alongside each other as they worked their way around the naked trees, leaving Bjornheimr’s noisy activity far behind them.

A multitude of snowflakes gently floated to the glistening ground around them and twinkled sporadically in the air, occasionally catching streaks of light in their icy clutch. Meanwhile, they swayed elegantly in the gale that blew in from beyond the barrier of trees, and adorned any surface that would hold onto them.

As for the wildlife in the woods, they seemed to be making an effort to avoid the pair of intruders traipsing through their home. They stuck to the shadows being cast by the nature surrounding them, and flitted erratically behind the bushes, causing their foliage to twitch with movement.

An orchestra of vibrant chirps could be heard singing throughout the space, and in the delicate rustling that filled the breeze, Eivor detected the sounds of animals yipping collectively, as if conversing with each other about the peculiar visitors wandering through their habitat.

It was a normal day in the woods like any other, and for that, Eivor was grateful.

“The nature you have here is breathtaking,” Sigurd remarked. “The gods were in high spirits when they created Bjornheimr.”

Eivor gazed at the trees lining the path, speaking contently. “They were, weren’t they? Sometimes I forget we’re still in Midgard when I see the beauty they’ve blessed us with.”

“Do you come out here often?”

The young man sighed. “Sadly, no. My duties keep me close to the village these days. Though, I used to spend a lot of time out here with my sister when I was younger. Thora and I would always hunt together in these woods.”

“Ah, yes,” Sigurd said in recognition. “I’ve met Thora as well. Your father introduced us at the feast. She... didn’t seem too fond of me.”

Eivor chuckled. “That’s how she is with everyone. She’s the oldest in our family, so she’s always been protective of me and Randvi. Don’t worry about it. She’ll come to trust you eventually.”

“I hope so. Animosity will provide little for us in times like these.”

Eivor quirked a curious brow at him. “And what of Ulfar? Have you met him yet?”

Sigurd nodded. “I have. He’s a mystery, that one. Hardly said a word to me, and yet, I feel like he spoke the most.”

The blond man paused at the observation. “Is that so? Hm. I knew Ulfar was quiet, but he’s never struck me as the standoffish type. Then again, he and I have known each other for years, so I’ve probably just forgotten how he is with strangers.”

“You two are close?”

“Indeed. Ulfar’s been in my life ever since Arngeir took me in. He was always there to fill the jarl’s absence when the man was occupied with other duties. He’s almost like a second father to me.”

Sigurd posed a question. “Is Ulfar from around here? I noticed a slight accent in his speech when we talked.”

“No,” Eivor explained. “He’s Saxon-born, but was raised by Norse parents after a viking raid destroyed his village.”

“Really? Well, it seems your clan is full of interesting people.”

Eivor snickered softly. “You don’t know the half of it. We have warriors, poets, hunters, thieves... every walk of life lives among us.”

 The prince smirked. “And which one are you?”

“Me? I... can’t say for sure if I’m being honest. I suppose you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“A man never knows his own reputation, eh? I can understand that.”

Eivor threw the question back at him. “And what about you? You seemed to know your reputation pretty well when we spoke last night.”

“It’s difficult not to when you’re a prince. Everyone always has an opinion on how you should behave. How you should live. How you should think. Even this marriage wasn’t my idea.”

The other man couldn’t help but notice the hint of frustration in his voice. “It must get tiresome.”

Sigurd let out a defeated sigh. 

“It...” he fell silent for a second, struggling to get his thoughts in order, “...it does, yes. Make no mistake, I appreciate the privileges I have, but sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to live my life for others. I wish... I could just live freely; be my own man.”

He continued his train of thought. “I think that’s why I enjoy spending time with you, Eivor. Everyone else I’ve met so far has expected me to act in a certain way, but... not you. You judge me based on how I am, and not how you think I should be. Sometimes, that’s all I ask of someone.”

Sigurd cut himself off mid-sentence, withdrawing from his statement. “F-Forgive me. I did not mean to be so direct. I just...”

“I understand,” Eivor reassured him. “You bear a lot of weight on your shoulders. It must be difficult, especially in the midst of a war.”

“I suppose I should get used to it. After all, I’m going to be a king someday. It’s not like my situation is getting any easier. Better to come to terms with it now than wrestle with it later.”

Eivor raised a more personal question, admittedly somewhat hesitant to hear his friend’s thoughts.

“...Can I ask you something, Sigurd?”

“Of course.”

He quietened his tone, uncertain of the response he would receive. “Do you feel as though I’m pestering you?”

The prince took a moment to process his words, clearly confused by the sentiment. “Pestering me? No, of course not. I just said I enjoy spending time with you, did I not? Why would I think anything else?”

Eivor’s gaze fell to the ground. “It’s just... I feel like you should be riding through these woods with Randvi instead of me. You came here for her, after all. The whole purpose of your visit is to get closer to your betrothed. I worry that I’m wasting your time.”

Sigurd turned to his friend with a look of concern, quick to come to his defense. “Randvi and I have our entire lives ahead of us, Eivor. These first two weeks are merely the start of our marriage. There will plenty of time for us to get to know each other later. Do not fret. Your company is valued.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Still, I hope I’m not causing too much of a distraction from your duties. I know you said things have been stressful for the Raven Clan recently.”

“They have, which is why I appreciate you coming along with me. It would unwise for me to ignore my responsibilities, but even the strongest of men need to take a breath occasionally. We have more than enough war waiting for us beyond the horizon. We need not seek it out.”

Eivor found some comfort in his words. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“But enough of that,” Sigurd said, gesturing to the path in front of them. “We’ve reached the waterfall. Come. Let’s take a closer look.”

Tugging on the reins of his horse, Sigurd brought the steed to a steady halt before hopping off of its saddle and landing in the snow, causing his boots to sink through the thick surface.

Meanwhile, Eivor tailed the prince from behind and followed his lead, sticking close to him as the two of them approached the waterfall in the distance.

He recognized this place, despite not having visited it in a while. The locals often referred to this waterfall as the Tears of Ymir due to the strangely humanoid visage in the rock formations surrounding it. It rested on the edge of Bjornheimr’s outskirts and looked out into the open sea, guarding over its vast waters as if the giant himself were gazing upon his creation.

Meanwhile, a roaring cloud of mist clung onto the bottom of the falls’ foundation and merged into the sea below, creating an illusion that made Eivor feel as if he were standing on top of the world.

It was a glorious sight to behold, truly. Many of the landmarks near Bjornheimr were stunning on their own, but the waterfall had always been something else. It watched over the village from a pedestal of rocks and trees, and seemed to pacify the nature around it with a meditative aura. 

It was no wonder that Sigurd found himself drawn to it.

“The landscapes in this region never cease to amaze me,” the prince said in awe, stepping closer to the edge. “I wish I could stay here all day long. It feels so... disconnected from the chaos of our world. So peaceful. It truly is a luxury to have places like this near your home.”

Eivor joined him at the edge, losing himself in the majestic view.

“Indeed. It feels like a sanctuary created by the gods, hidden deep in the woods to protect it from the touch of mankind.”

Sigurd took a seat on the ground and let his legs dangle off the rock, gesturing to the mountains that dominated the horizon.

“You know, when I was a boy... I always used to have dreams about the mountains in this land. I would see a kingdom nestled in the depths of this world, constructed of architecture far beyond our understanding. There was a great tree that stood in the center of it. It was built out of iron and rock, and did not seem capable of breathing life like the ones you see here.”

Eivor sat beside the older man, intrigued by his tale. “A tree made of iron and rock? Can such a thing even exist?”

Sigurd shrugged. “Who knows? The nine realms are an impossible reality. If a tree such as Yggdrasil can exist, what makes an iron tree so implausible?”

The younger man grinned at the thought. “I suppose you’re right.”

The prince leaned back on his arms, relaxing in the snow. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever had any dreams like that? Seen things that you just... couldn’t explain?”

Eivor nodded. “I have, actually. Ever since I was a child, I always dreamt of the Allfather.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “You’ve seen Odin in your sleep? Are you certain it’s not a vision?”

“It could be,” he conceded, “but nothing in the real world has ever reflected my dreams, so I’m not sure. Ingrida might disagree with me, though. She seems to believe that I carry the gods’ favor.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sigurd admitted. “After all, they call you the Wolf-Kissed, do they not? For the scar on your neck? Not just anyone can survive an attack like that. Someone was watching over you that day.”

Eivor humored the idea. “You think? I hope that’s the case. Otherwise, I see no reason why my parents had to die while I was able to survive.”

Sigurd’s tone grew gentle with empathy. “...Our world is laden with injustices. The gods must’ve spared you so that you could rectify your own.”

The younger man beamed at him. “Which is where you come in.”

His friend returned the expression with a smile. “My clan will not rest until Kjotve lies rotting in the ground, and our people know peace again. You have my word, Eivor.”

Falling into a profound silence, the two of them simply took the time to enjoy each other’s company as they lounged together on the edge of the cliff, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water barreling down into the space below.

By now, the sun had risen to a point where it appeared as if it was being cradled by the mountains’ peaks, and parted the ocean’s tides with a shimmering streak of light.

As for Sigurd, the man seemed to be in an entirely different world at the moment. His eyes traveled far beyond the corporeal edges of their realm, and his temperament remained unperturbed. His mind had broken free of any troubles that once restrained it, and if Eivor didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that the man was subconsciously leaning closer to him.

He just wished he knew what Sigurd was thinking. The man had assured Eivor he wasn’t bothered by his company, but... the younger man wondered if there was anything else lingering in the back of the prince’s mind.

Did he share the same affections that Eivor harbored? Did he feel just as conflicted about everything as his companion? Did he feel drawn to him too? 

There were about a thousand different questions bouncing around Eivor’s thoughts, but he had no idea how to find an answer to any of them. He’d only known Sigurd for less than two days, after all. It wasn’t as if he could broach the subject without raising some level of awkwardness. 

Still, he wished there was some way to crack the shell Sigurd kept around himself. The man didn’t seem disingenuous necessarily, but it was clear that he was hiding his own secrets. It sounded as if his father often scolded him for speaking his mind, and thus, he had become reluctant to talk openly about his concerns. 

It was a shame, really. Eivor’s instincts told him that Sigurd was a man worth talking to, but he appeared to lock his thoughts in a cage that only a select few would be able to access. He had opened up a number of times already, but even then, Eivor found himself curious to learn more.

He just didn’t know how to break the wall between them.

“...Sigurd?” Eivor said timidly, tracing his finger through the snow. “Can I--”

The prince raised a silencing hand, jolting his head to the side in alarm. 

“--Wait.” He whispered. “Did you hear that?”

The blond man glanced around the environment, finding nothing of interest. “...No? What is it?”

Sigurd propped himself up from the ground and gripped the hilt of his sword, attentively scanning the woods for any movement.

“I thought I heard someone else talking,” he explained in a hushed tone. “It sounded like they were hiding in the woods.”

Eivor followed his line of sight and glared at the wall of trees standing behind them, steadily reaching for his axe as his gaze pierced through the shadows.

“Is someone there?” Sigurd called, returning to his feet. “Come out where we can see you. There’s no use in cowering.”

The two of them waited for a response, remaining completely still.

Leaping out from the nest of trees, a lone arrow suddenly flew towards Eivor and soared straight past his neck, planting itself in the ground behind him. 

Meanwhile, a series of footsteps shuffled around in the woods for a bit, and before they knew it, a pair of men had emerged from the darkness with swords in their hands, intent on slaying anything that moved.

“Shit...!” Eivor exclaimed, instantly recognizing their attire. “Kjotve’s men!”

Pouncing into battle, Sigurd and Eivor wasted no time in fending off the ambush and immediately started swinging their weapons about, clashing with the blades of their attackers.

Eivor swerved to the left in order to dodge another oncoming arrow and confronted one of the assailants on his own, leaving his companion to deal with the other. He deflected their blow with a quick bash of his axe, and swiftly ducked under a second swing before hurling his weapon into their gullet.

A stream of blood came squirting out from their throat following the counterattack, and within the blink of an eye, the man had fallen limp, gripping his neck to preserve a life that was no longer there.

As for the other man, he was still tangled in a fight with Sigurd and currently trying to plow through the prince’s adamant defenses, relentlessly delivering one blow after another. The redheaded man seemed to be holding up alright against the brute’s wild swings, but was clearly struggling to find an opening.

“Sigurd!” Eivor shouted over the commotion, sprinting towards him. “Hold on!”

Diving directly into the midst of the pandemonium, Eivor made a beeline for the gargantuan warrior and frantically searched for a weak point in his armor, raising his axe in preparation. 

Before he was able to provide any aid for Sigurd however, the man flicked his eyes in Eivor’s direction and slammed his sword downwards in a vertical slice, carving his blade straight through the smaller man’s cheekbone.

Eivor was sent flying backwards due to the incredible impact and landed harshly in the snow with a heavy thud, causing his weapon to slip from his grasp. Meanwhile, Sigurd finally found the opening he needed and promptly took advantage of it, immediately turning the tide of the battle.

He heaved his longsword in the air with a fatigued grunt and lined it up with the warrior’s head, practically dropping the blade into their skull while their attention was focused on Eivor.

The man’s limbs twitched sporadically once the weapon made contact with his scalp, and after a few moments of struggling to process what just happened, he collapsed to his knees, toppling over right next to where Eivor lay.

Sigurd let out a labored breath following the end of the fight, quickly switching back into a state of panic once he saw what had become of his friend.

“Eivor!” He blurted out, rushing to the man. He crouched down and cradled Eivor’s head in his hold, checking to see if he was still breathing.

“Eivor,” Sigurd repeated worriedly, shaking him slightly. “Are you still with me?”

The younger man forced his eyes open to a slit upon hearing the prince’s pleas and grinned, wincing at the immediate pain that stung his cheek.

“Oh, relax, your highness...” Eivor teased cordially, his voice straining with effort. “It’s... it’s nothing to worry about...”

Sigurd sighed in relief, his breath turning into mist once it departed from his lips. “By Odin’s beard... I feared he might’ve killed you for a moment there.”

“I’ve hurt myself worse trying to navigate the village after waking up from a drunken stupor. I’ll... be alright.”

The older man wasn’t ready to calm down just yet. “Well, I’m not willing to let my guard down until we get you back to Bjornheimr. There could be more people hiding in the woods.” Sigurd shook his head in anger. “Dammit...! Where did they come from? Do you think these men were scouts?”

Eivor brought himself to a sitting position, relying on Sigurd’s support to elevate himself.

“...P-Possibly, or they could be stragglers. Either way... we need to return to the village and let the jarl know what’s going on. I... I imagine your father will want to hear of this too.”

“First, let’s focus on tending to your wound,” the prince reminded him. “We should bring you to the seeress as soon as possible. It looks like the blade cut you pretty deep.”

Eivor held onto Sigurd’s arm, pulling himself back up to his feet. “Well, whatever we do... we need to get out of these woods. Idling out here isn’t going to do us any favors.”

“Agreed.”

The older man whistled for his horse, offering Eivor a helping hand once he noticed that his steed had fled.

“Come,” he instructed. “I’ll take you back to the village. We shouldn’t waste another minute in this forest.”

Eivor followed Sigurd’s actions, growing increasingly sluggish with every step he took. “...Thank you, Sigurd. I’m glad I had you by my side today.”

The prince climbed onto his mount and took hold of the reins, allowing Eivor to take a seat as the other man wrapped his arms around his waist.

“No. Thank you, Eivor. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Sigurd diverted his focus to the journey ahead of them, comforting his friend with some final words. The man may have pretended that he wasn’t affected, but Sigurd could tell that Eivor’s wound was draining his energy by the second.

“Hush now, drengr,” he soothed in a gentle voice. “Save your strength. I’ll take you back to Bjornheimr. Just rest now. You’ll be alright.”

[lideria]

Lost in Yesterday. | Jeno | Backstory.

➥ pairing(s): jeno x gender-neutral!reader, kind of haechan x gender-neutral!reader

➥ genre: lots of angst, also fluff, somewhat suggestive, royal!au, rivalkingdoms!au, loverstoenemies!au

➥ warnings: swear words, mentions of suggestive themes, themes and mentions of war, themes of heartbreak, themes and mentions of family distress/unhealthy relationship, themes of manipulation, themes of psychological abuse, themes of confusion, drinking, mentions of injuries, mentions of gun use, mentions of disassociation. english is my second language so there might be errors.

➥ word count: 25.6k

➥ summary: the firsts and lasts of a forbidden relationship between two heirs.

➥ songs that have inspired this piece/i recommend readers to listen: lost in yesterday - tame impala, low - lenny kravitz, strangers in the night - frank sinatra, six days - dj shadow, next to me - imagine dragons, don’t you cry for me - cobi, to be alone - hozier, c’mon - panic! at the disco ft. fun, morph - twenty one pilots, moon river - frank ocean, sinking man - of monsters and men

➥ author’s note: THIS IS A REPOST, because tumblr’s algorithm did me dirty and took this off the tags. i dearly hope this does not flop heheh please like/reblog if you enjoy this! because i just about lost my mind while writing! also, a big thank you to my beta readers @shimmershimmernct and @neocity-sarai, you guys are awesome!

➥ sequels: reader’s pov // jeno’s pov

i hope everyone enjoys this, have a great morning/day/evening/night!

The Last Ball

The orchestra remains playing songs in the background even after all the past hours they have done so. Hallways are empty and partially dark if it was not for the moonlight. Most of the staff is occupied with serving the hundreds of guests in the middle wing of the palace— working in the kitchen, in the ballroom and outside stood the guards. The left wing of the palace, the one that is supposedly closed to the guests for the night, is only alive because of the two people running through its moonlit halls.

Jeno is holding your hand as he leads the way, excited giggles making their way out without much effort to stop them. The both of you run up the last set of grand stairs and Jeno runs to the end of the wide corridor. He pushes the doors of the library open rather harshly, making you both stumble your way in. His hands wrap around your waist as he pushes you to the nearest set of shelves. It does not take much time for your lips to meet.

The prince, dressed in a pure, blinding white suit with his jet black hair takes your breath away in the best way possible. He pecks you on the lips so many times it makes you dizzy, steadying you with his hands placed delicately on either sides of your jaw as lingers out some of the pecks into longer lasting, tender kisses.

As always it feels rushed and desperate. Yet so, so precious.

It does not feel like you had enough of him when he places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes while his thumbs caress your jaw. You can hardly see him in the dark, save for his eyes that are sparkling with the weak and pretty rays of moonlight hitting them. He audibly gulps.

“One more,” Jeno whispers before kissing you again. You feel so lost in him that you have to steady yourself to know you still have the strength to stay on your feet. Your hands that had been resting against his chest come up to pull him closer to you, now stationed at his nape. His teeth ever so slightly graze down on your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy hum from both of you at the tension that seems to radiate from where your lips meet— and it clicks in him. That this is not the time or the place.

When he pulls away he takes a couple steps back, and then he smiles. Moonlight barely hits him but your eyes are, at this point, somewhat adjusted to the dark from running through dark halls and semi making out in the dark library. Both of you know why he stops and pulls away too soon before it can go any further. He cannot even kiss you for as long or as hard as him and you would like to, because people would notice from your appearances and the duration of your absence. And gossip was a deadly thing within the royal class.

It was okay. As long as you could escape with him for some time, it would be okay. You two were too used to it at this point.

“You look blinding tonight, your Majesty,” He teases, his eyes curved into the crescents they are. The nickname hitches your heart instantly, triggering all the dreams you know could not come to be. All you can do is press them down in your heart until they become so compact that you feel back in control. Him being there right beside you does not help with the situation in your heart, but the least you can do is to touch him in some way because you missed him.

Hell, you missed him even when he was right there, stood before your eyes.

So you opt to run a careful hand through his soft and silky hair, tidying the mess it had come while running. Realization hits you suddenly then, and your heart picks up again though of causes less pleasurable. “Is Jaemin out? We left so quickly.”

Jeno leaving without his guard would surely create chaos. With the tension the regional monarchies and the state kingdoms were in, and the unspoken arguments and arrogance hanging in the air, any heir even daring to breathe without their personal guards would mean letting them out into the wild with all the dangers and possibilities awaiting. Alone.

And that is a risk none of the kingdoms are willing to take.

The Prince’s eyes flutter a bit, but he sounds somewhat confident. “I was making hand gestures all the time, there’s no way he didn’t pick them up.”

As if on cue, there are loud knocks at the door when you nod. Both of your heads snap at the source of the noise— the doors are then opened even harsher than how Jeno had done some moments ago, and two figures rush in, clearly out of breath.

For a second you dare to think that you have another forbidden couple in the library, but the voice that speaks debunks your theory. “They’re here,” Jaemin breathes out in what could best be called relief. He kneels to his knees and takes a few moments to gulp and recollect himself. His silence is instantly filled, however, with another voice you know all too well.

“Excuse me for dropping the honorifics but for the sake of my poor mother stop doing this to us,” Donghyuck, your guard, complains. Jaemin lets out a laugh and nods appreciatively at his words. The guard carries on with his complaint but not without sucking in a big breath first. “At least inform us of where you’re going so we don’t have to lie through our teeth to the kings and queens while also worrying about your safety. A generation earlier and we would be beheaded if they found out what we’re doing.” Donghyuck kneels to grab at his legs as well, looking at the ground. Jaemin pats his back once in support. “The things I do for this relationship. Really, I would’ve gotten married already if I paid this much attention to my own relationships. I don’t know about Jaemin.”

The guard beside him chuckles. “You and me both at that one.”

Both Jeno and you laugh at their words, too stunned to move from your place. You both give your guards a good few seconds to catch their breaths but Jeno moves towards his guard and best friend before you can even move, waiting for him to groom his outfit and straighten up first. “Did anybody see you?”

The cautious words leaving Jeno catches Jaemin off guard, but he still answers the question rather quickly. “We kept some distance between us until we were out of the middle wing. No one was around after that as far as I could tell.” Upon his words he pats Jaemin on the shoulder as if to say good job, and he mumbles his thanks to both of the guards in gratitude— even though the two of you did not necessarily need them to find you, as in them walking in on you.

Jeno turns to you when Jaemin is done, a warm smile on his face again, probably sharing the same feelings but also knowing the consequences of not being down at the hall for longer than expected. “I will see you in the ballroom, my love.” Affection beams from his words and it makes you incredibly happy, even though you have heard the nickname countless times before.

“Hurry up already, I can hear your father scolding you.” He chuckles a breath and nods at Donghyuck, giving him his recognition and respect, before making his way out of the door with Jaemin trailing next to him.

You sigh when the door closes behind him and his company, knowing this would be the only time you could get to yourselves with him tonight. Just like that, the prince was gone.

Relationships between royals were heavily looked down upon unless they were arranged marriages, because they could bring unexpected feuds, wars, or peace. No royals wanted their love life to affect their politics unless they could impose full control over them. Considering the state the nations are in— with all kinds of political feuds and tight anger in between that waited patiently until it was the time to blow up— your relationship between two heirs of monarchies that have never necessarily gotten along feels all the more forbidden. Even after three years of being steady and having things under control.

Loving him would not be this difficult if it was your ideal world.

“Your Highness,” Donghyuck starts, looking at you with some level of concern. “You should be looking happy. Not like this.”

There is something weird about the way Donghyuck speaks to you. Most probably because of the fact that you have known each other since childhood, there is still a sense of warm and homely friendliness and informality in his words, despite the title he has to call you by. The two of you had met at eight years of age, when his mother who works in the kitchen brought him into the palace that time when his father was sick and she could not take the risk of leaving him alone with an ill man. He had been the first child that you actually made friends with outside the heir community— if it was even one.

Fourteen years of friendship. One of which was spent apart as he was sent away to train to become your guard by your father’s order, and three of which was spent with him as your guard. Mostly with laughs, sometimes with tears, lots of kept secrets, shared feelings and struggles, and helping each other with anything and everything. Donghyuck was your one loyal friend, and perhaps, the only friend you truly had.

Honestly, you could not have asked for a better primary guard. “I am happy,” The words prompt an automatic smile on your lips, albeit one of longing. “I just would’ve loved to dance with him again.”

The First Dance

The first time you had danced together was three years ago, it had also been the day  where  you had completely fallen for him. Years of silently crushing had been leading up to it— momentary glances at the dinner table when his family or yours were doing their yearly rounds of visits followed by shy smiles, playing in the snow when they visited your kingdom of mountains, exploring the beautiful forests of his kingdom of what felt like a sea of green, helping each other with duties that required a second thought, late night talks in the gardens and balconies, watching the night sky with the astronomy-lover prince. Sometimes he would tell you all about it, sometimes the both of you would lounge around and sketch architectural pieces and compete on insults and comebacks, sometimes you would ride horses together— basically, you would share what you loved doing with one another.

For years it felt like a snowball rolling down the edge of a mountain, starting off small but swiftly tumbling and getting bigger and bigger as it made its way down. Surely it would end in an avalanche where the neatly formed snowball would disintegrate into a new spread of snow that would cover every inch of the surface.

The first dance was the scream that caused the avalanche.

Jeno had come to your side in the ballroom full of royal members and the elite class, roaming through an ocean of people just to find you. He had sensed the stress around the hall— the unhappiness that swarmed within the people spread around, and he thought— you were young. In fact, most people in that very room were young except for the rulers. It should feel energetic and fresh for everyone to take a short break from duties and responsibilities. It was a ball, after all. Not a conference. Nor a summit. Nothing political, so why was everyone making it feel like it was? Why would he not ask someone he liked to a dance?

Because that person was you, and your parents’ views did not go hand in hand? Because it was basic and proper political etiquette for him to not ask you to a dance?

Well, that would have just been plain stupid and a shame in his opinion.

“Hey,” He had leant over to your ear while you were looking at some group of people who were dancing away, prompting a little jerk of your shoulders in surprise. It makes him chuckle. “Hello, and excuse you, I don’t think I heard the ‘your Highness’ part,” You had said in return. “I could start some drama with the way you are disrespecting me right now.” He saw your eyes point at a particular group of teenagers your age, ones that were heirs of ‘lesser’ kingdoms— whatever that meant. Just because they did not have much land to rule over. The heirs, though, were known to be quite the chitter-chatters. They were the ones to have a word with if you ever needed some catching up with the society.

Your eyebrows had lifted a bit then in an effort to point them out further, and your finger had slightly pointed at them as stealthily as you could muster. “All it would take is a few words with them and I swear within the next hour everyone would know how you don’t even have the manners to address people correctly.”

That made Jeno start laughing silly, but you protested further. “You should have been at the last Unity Ball. They made sure everyone knew Doyoung and, you know, his now-wife-and-the-queen were a deal. I don’t even know where they spotted them doing what because I sure didn’t see them.”

You chuckled after your words as well, and Jeno could not take his eyes off of you. He smiled fondly, relaxing his linked hands placed at his back. “I was thinking…” He held out a hand, palm looking upwards at the ceiling, relaxed enough that his fingers were not fully straight. “Maybe we could give them something to talk about.”

With a smile, you rolled your eyes. “Jeno, this will give everybody something to talk about.”

Jeno shrugged carelessly with pursed lips. “I know and frankly I do not care. I just want to dance with you.”

It made your heart skip a beat— a couple, actually. He felt the same way in his chest.

And he knew his father would be watching over him somewhere, muttering to his mother about what was he doing and why would he even do that and this is going to raise so many questions but he had meant it. He simply did not care. Jeno also did not care about what your father must think of him. If it was as he expected it to be, it was somewhere between neutral and he is tolerable. Not he is as bad as his father. Plus, if the two of you got into trouble, just how hard could it be when the two of you were the only heirs for your parents’ thrones and had your own duties every living day?

Yes. It would not be much trouble at all.

Perhaps you also had a similar thought process, because you willingly put your hand in his. The two of you walked to the floor and felt gazes shift towards your direction along the way. And then, you placed your hand on him and let him place his hand at the small of your back, linking your other half of hands together.

And you started dancing. In the same way you would have danced with anyone that was not him. As more gazes landed upon the two of you and people watched you dance instead of only seeing you, understanding and observing first hand that being rivals is not applicable to situations like these and that your parents’ disagreement do not have to be yours, you swayed and you smiled and you looked into Jeno’s eyes.

But something was different.

You got lost in his eyes. You felt your breath escape free from your chest at the feeling of his hands holding you, and your heart started beating at a much faster, hypnotic rhythm— like that of a horse’s trots when it is set free to run around. And honestly, you got lost in the feeling. The feeling of being able to say so much when none of you are speaking. It was comfortable. It was strengthening. It was freeing. Fresh, warm, calm yet exciting.

Maybe he had felt the same, because you could feel his hold getting tighter and his gaze fonder by the second as you danced.

Jeno and you colored your way through that year’s annual visit, the usual black-and-whiteness of it nowhere to be seen.

The Last Official Visit

“Mere years ago I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” You mumble quietly as Jeno and you walk your way to the dining hall. You are making sure you keep your voice down so as to prevent the staff— especially the educational staff— from hearing your complaints. Both of your hands are at your sides lightly brushing against each other’s. That is the most affectionate thing you could do when everyone is around, really. “Having too many lessons on too many subjects in one day and somehow trying to keep all of them in my mind so I can have a shot at being a decent ruler,” Jeno hums in agreement and nods a little, waiting for the actual complaint to come. “But now that I’m actually getting closer to the being a monarch, everything’s just.. I think my head will crack open if I need to memorize anything more about law. Do you ever feel the same?”

From the corner of your eye, you can feel a staff looking at you with judging eyes, so you feel inclined to add the honorific. “Your Highness?”

Jeno chuckles as you turn around the corner and nods enthusiastically, when both of you notice one of the head guards and all three of you bow a bit in greetings as you pass by each other. “I can relate to that. For me having to deal with and participating in the military is draining as I get older. A lot of the time I just want to be able to learn things I want to learn. Astronomy, music theory, science…”

“Nothing to do with politics, I know.” The two of you snicker at his words and yours. You really knew. Jeno, if there were any other heir, would give up his place on the throne immediately— because he hated politics. Not the study or the theme itself as he knew its importance because of his first-hand experience, but he rather hated the reality of being a politician. Every word he says, every action he does, and every step he takes is closely monitored and very likely to cause major changes. And he hates that. Jeno is the type of person that is more reserved, dependent on his privacy, someone who wants to engage in his own interests as he thinks it is the major way to preserve inner peace throughout his life. He wants to live an enjoyable life, understandably.

“How are things going with your father?” You ask him upon the topic with a hopeful tone, knowing it is a bitter one, and thinking that maybe asking about it while you are moving and loaded with sensory surroundings could give him the benefit of swiftly giving the answer without much occupation in his mind. “Not great. I cannot seem to make him happy, ever.”

The answer hurts your heart because it is true. Jeno’s father is never happy with him, as he is a man washed over with his own ideals and denies any alternatives. In his views, it is almost like Jeno has to be exactly like him to be a good king. Ever since you met Jeno around twelve years ago now, his father has bothered you and not only because he is the King of a rival monarchy.

The worst part is that his mother never raised her voice about it. Even though she is much more affectionate towards Jeno and  seems to approach him with love unlike the King.

“He was really upset with my performance in the military last time. Said I had to work harder if I wanted to be a lieutenant.” He adds with a barely audible huff, the two of you slowing down as you spot the doors to the dining hall. You frown, and it is audible when you speak. “We have to endure it just a bit more. It will all work out in the end— we always make things work, right?”

With that Jeno smiles assuringly. You feel his finger caress the back of your hand a couple of times as his eyes point downwards with the force of his smile. “Yes, my love. We do.”

Just out of the doorkeepers’ reach, you whisper to him. To reassure him, and to give him strength, and perhaps to apologize to him about nagging him on a topic he does not like to mention. “I love you.”

He whispers back. “I love you too.”

The two of you share a fond smile that lasts a couple of seconds before taking the last few steps to the entrance and the doorkeepers open the doors for you.

Both of your parents are seated at the table, with yours at the opposite ends of the table and his on the left side. Your parents look delighted to see you both, and his mother does look content too, but his father not as much. It is less than surprising to you at this point, but you still want to be naive enough to believe his face looks so down because of the political tension  he had with your parents and not because he genuinely disliked his son and you.

Bowing your heads slightly in greetings at the Kings and the Queens, both of you start making your way to your seats.

“Father,” Jeno greets him with a smile of his face that is rather mocking, as he walks over to them to sit at the assigned chair between his parents.

“Son,” His father greets back, watching Jeno’s movements. The King sounds stern and less than moderately content which makes you furrow your brows as a staff pulls the chair for you to sit down on the right side of the table. You realize how your chair is the only one on the right side even though the table is big enough to host grand meals and it makes you wish that the seating plan could be in a way that could have both Jeno and you sitting at the same side. Because you do not want his father to converse with him and be in close proximity to him, where he can bother him all he pleases.

Contrary to all your thoughts, though, Jeno looks okay. He places his hand on his father’s shoulder as he sits down, and turns to his mother to take her hand in his before placing a kiss at the back of it. Jeno whispers something to her that makes her smile bright, her eyes sparkling at her son, and then she brushes some of his hair that has fallen behind his ears. You can hear her asking Jeno about how his studies have gone, along with the duties he had to take care of that day that were just some document work.

Jeno tells her it has gone well, that he has taken care of everything and even has gotten a head-start on his work for the next day. She praises him in return and cups his cheek, turning back around to the table thereafter.

When the attention is at the table and the first course is served, your father takes his glass of fine champagne and lifts it up slightly with a smile on his face that you know is only professional. Him and your mother dislike Jeno’s father just as much as you do if not more for his political stances. “I’m happy we can all gather here annually and share food, thoughts and words with each other in peace even though we are not necessarily on the same side of ideas, and I’m raising a toast for everything to stay this way— in peace— for the eternity to come.”

Me too, you think. Both Jeno’s parents and your mother raise their glasses to meet your father’s with two genuine smiles and one quarter-meant. You raise your glasses as well with Jeno and say your cheers after they do so.

Jeno winks at you before taking a sip when he lifts his glass up to his lips, and you know that it is the two of you that wants your father’s wishes to come true probably the most as you smile.

The First (and Only) Time You Got Caught

It had happened on one of your yearly rounds barely a full year after the annual Unity Ball, in which he had finally collected the courage to tell you about his feelings and asked if you felt the same as you two danced with a beautiful smile on his face— presumably because it was the only time the two of you could truly be alone without your primary guards on your tails.

“Can I tell you something, in all my seriousness, your Highness?” He had asked with his hidden smile on his face, the one where the corners of his mouth were not pointed upwards but there was still a very noticeable amusement on his face. Teasing a bit, if you will. “I have a feeling that you will even if I tell you you can’t.”

Jeno had tilted his head at your words. “You are right, but only because of the heaviness of my words. I really would not tell you otherwise.”

He took a breath, and when he spoke again, it was with a much lower tone. A tone where people dancing near you would not have been able to hear it but only you would, as his voice got drowned out by the sounds of the piano and the violins and the cellos and every other instrument. “I think a lot whenever I see you and spend time with you,” Then, ever so slightly he leaned in a bit closer. “And what I think is always good and relieving. You make me feel like I can drop my mask off with you: the mask I keep on my face at all times. It is incredibly easy for me to be myself around you because of the way you are, and I appreciate you for that. But for a long time now I’ve been feeling like this appreciation and awe I have for you,”

Your brows furrowed a bit at his words as confusion took over you, and he let out an airy laugh at that before picking his words back up. “Has evolved into something much more. Something much bigger and stronger. Something that tells me it is you, and I am okay with that. I can and I do accept that, and I just wanted to tell you because it is so hard not to anymore.” Another breath. This time he leans back again to regain his composure. “But you should know that I will understand if you do not feel the same way about me, or do not want to have what I would like for us to have.”

The two of you continued to dance, making sure your waltz steps were matching both to each other’s and to the music playing in the background. Shocked would have been an understatement for what you felt— not because it was a surprise that he felt that way about you as you were sure the mutual attraction was real before, but because he actually told you. Moreover, because he wanted something with you in the same way you did with him. It was only when you could wrap your head around it that you let out a bright smile with a squeeze on his shoulder. “This is so hysteric.”

Jeno had shook his head in a questioning manner upon your words, but had immediately relaxed upon the ones that followed soon after. “I do. I do want to have that very same thing, because it is you for me, too.”

Needless to say it had been a tad bit difficult after that.

As it was with all new lovers, keeping your hands or eyes off from each other was quite frustrating and a demanding task. You could really only love each other physically when you were completely alone; could hug when you were alone, could kiss when you were alone, could hold hands when you were alone— being alone was a treasure. And for the communication bit.. well. Communication outside of blatantly seeing each other and talking was a non-existent concept.

But you made it work. Even at its first stages, your love had proved to be stronger than the obstacles. The two of you would find a way, eventually.

Perhaps, the one time you were not alone while you displayed your affection was the door opening to communication outside of seeing each other and between the distanced kingdoms.

The two of you were on your way to the greenhouse outside in their garden to have tea with your families, the sun shining through the big windows— not a sight you could always have in your palace as the country was usually covered in snow whether it be a light cover or a heavier one. You loved how green their palace was. It felt like an explosion of colors after staying months on end in your palace until you started your yearly rounds, visiting every single kingdom over the course of several weeks.

Maybe it was what made you more lively, too. More loving, because you do not think there could be any explanation as to why the Prince’s speech on the whole history of the foreseeable future in space sounded so charming to you. “Kiss me.”

Jeno stopped dead in his tracks at the sudden demand. You did too, and could not help but snicker at his widened eyes. “Pardon me? We’re literally in the middle of the hall, dove.” Which was true, but the hall was empty. Completely empty, as the transition halls were some of the most unoccupied during the daytime. Had it been nighttime, it would have been a completely different story. “Where’s the beautiful and bold boy that did not care when he was asking me to a dance in front of everyone in the royal and elite class?”

He chuckled at that, amused and somewhat bothered, but lighthearted. “We’re too out in the open. It would be a disaster if anyone wanted to change wings and walked in on us.” At that you let out a frustrated sigh, laughing a little at him with a slight roll of your eyes. “Just kiss me, Jeno. There is no one around.”

Maybe it is the fact that you asked him for the second time, or that he felt the sudden bravery rush over him, but he did kiss you then. With an amused smile spread over his lips he had leant over with his hands still placed on his back— presumably because it would have made pulling back easier had it come to that. It was a sweet kiss despite the frustration the two of you had in store just seconds before he did so, his lips soft yet firmly on yours as he started kissing your demand and his worries away in a careless moment.

It felt good to be careless for once. To melt into the environment, to feel one and to feel whole by taking only one risk.

Until the sound of laughter echoed through the hall, that is, and the faint footsteps grew louder in sound as the people they belonged to got closer. The footsteps were approaching rather quickly, and Jeno tried to pull away from you muttering something along the lines of see, someone has to come here just to ruin everything but you did not let him. Instead, you pulled him in closer with hands placed on the other’s jaws.

Honestly, you two really could not care. Especially after the laughs got recognizable to you long before they did to him.

And as one would have expected the steps came to a halt once they entered the hall, however as one would not have expected while you were just pulling away from each other.

If you had to stay positive about it, it was an immense embarrassment for both of you. Them possibly seeing you in that state was not something the two of you would have wanted nor planned; the plan was to pull away just before they came in, and you had failed miserably.

It would be fine, though. They were your primary guards. One of whom looked shocked beyond belief, and the other looked a bit uncomfortable. Nonetheless, they were your primary guards and your own closest friends. If anybody could be trusted, it would be them.

“Oh my god. Oh, my god.” Donghyuck rambled, mostly in disbelief and possibly a bit nervously as they kept on walking over to where you and the Prince were standing. “I can’t believe I just witnessed that, you were kissing, weren’t you?” The last part of the question had come out in the lowest whisper he could muster, and Jeno only nodded. It was not his proudest moment for sure if you took the slight blush on his cheek to account.

Mentioning what had been going on between you to them had been out of the question for so long in a dire attempt to protect yourselves from any and all eyes— even theirs, that are supposed to watch over you. Maybe if it was not for this moment you never would have told them as the nature you two held had been too cautious to do anything up until now.

The guards seemed to get even more distressed at that, especially your friend of eleven years. He turned to Jaemin with his hand in his hair, eyes closed, and his face genuinely upset. “It’s too early for this. I’m on my first year of primary duty and this is what you do to me?”

At his words, the Prince beside you cleared his throat, and everyone turned their gazes towards him. “I know this must have come as a shock to you, but we are still two heirs you are talking about.”

Donghyuck tilted his head then, and pushed his tongue against his cheek at the comment, chuckling a little as he placed his hands on his hips. “Well, your Highness, one of them happens to be my best friend of years— and for the record, I think we have well given up on the professional distance protocol at this point.”

That made Jaemin bust out an actual laugh, prompting Jeno to glare at him and the guard to simply shrug before apologizing. “Donghyuck,” You snapped at him with a warning tone. “Keep your composure.” The only voices inside the hall or at the close distance around the hall still happened to be the four of yours, which was rather fortunate considering the last few moments.

“Just let us forget about this, your Highness,” Jaemin suggested to you with a calm manner. “Both of us have vowed to be loyal to you two. Not a single word would leave from our mouths regarding this.”

And that happened to be the best thing Jaemin had ever said to you. For him, and the stressed guard beside him, it was probably the most unfortunate thing that ever did leave his mouth. A smile spread on your face as the idea hit, and Jeno must have thought the same because you saw him jerk a little in his place in a moment of eureka. The guards knew something (or anything, for that matter) would not be going their way as the same kind of knowing smile spread across your faces simultaneously.

“Vowed to be loyal, you say?” Both guards nodded when you asked, and Jeno followed suit with his own question. “And what if we asked you to help us with finding places for us two to meet at?”

The Last Promise

It is a pretty night.

The nights at your palace are always breezy and cold at the right amount: bearable with the right attires, and the type that is a dry cold where the humid cold that might stick on you is never a problem that passes through your mind. Moonlight is bright in the open sky. The stars are visible and scattered across the night like wild flowers scattered across a field. The snow is a thick blanket on top of the ground and under your feet as you sit at the entrance of the abandoned and long-out-of-use tunnel.

Jeno looks pretty, too. Despite traveling for a long time and having to cover everything up at such a time where having this relationship is even harder than it has ever been, he is glowing with pleasure. His eyes constantly seem to smile, and his skin glistens under the shifting rays of the moonlight as he speaks to you. You both were catching up on the last few weeks where you have not been able to see each other and only could deal letters to one another through selected staff that were being paid in exchange of keeping your long-going secret. A lot of it was through affection.

Jaemin and Donghyuck are guarding far in front of you— Donghyuck farther than Jaemin, keeping an eye out for the rest of the palace that was surely asleep and in the distance as the other watched out with binoculars for royal photographers. They seemed to be everywhere after noticing the drama and feud-filled relationships of the recent royal class, and they were insatiable.

“I feel so on the edge whenever I have to talk to anyone lately,” You confess to Jeno as he looks deep into your eyes. “Even on phone calls, and even though I am not my father but just a representative, everyone treats me like I am some manure sticking to their shoes.”

The Prince laughs at that, holding your hand in his and lacing your fingers without taking his eyes off of yours. “You could not be farther off than manure, my love. These are trying times for everybody is all.”

“Which is exactly why I think they should be more compassionate,” You add with a huff of frustration, a pout on your lips. Jeno lets out a breathy chuckle as he leans over and places a chaste kiss on them, before turning back to his seat. “Are you cold?”

“Not really, why?” You ask. “The tip of your nose felt really cold.” With that, he looks down at your linked hands and shrugs a little. “You could go inside. I don’t want you to be cold because of me. I got to see you, and that is what matters.”

“I am not cold. I want to stay here longer.” He smiles at the attempt to reassure him, starting to play with the tips of your fingers. Squeezing them, touching them with his own, fiddling them mindlessly. “Good.” There is a slight relief at the way his word sounds, but it is nowhere to be found with the words that follow. “Listen,”

You know what that tone means, and it means that he is being dead serious. “I don’t know if you have noticed anything about it, but there is a big likelihood that a war is coming. Some areas are already in conflict,” You had known about it a little, as the military paperwork seemed to mount up on your table about the raise of the aids and what-not— but you had not seen or heard any plans of an attack. Jeno gulps as he picks his head up to look into your eyes again. “My father just assigned me to the troops located nearest to the conflict zones as a lieutenant today and I have to be there in the morning,” A breath before he concludes his words. “I will have to fight at the warfront when it breaks out.”

His words struck you harder than you would expect it. Jeno does not say if the war breaks out, no, he says when the war breaks out. And you know he is more invested in the military than you ever will be, so his words hold an impeccable reality to them. It gets you feeling terrified because a war is a war and there is no sense of security in it, and he will have to be in the midst of that chaos fighting; and it gets you feeling angry, because how could his father do this to him? “Aren’t you his only child?” Your breath hitches as you ask, and you feel the warmness at your eyes. “Why is he sending you?”

“Because I have been training my entire life and he said he trusts me now.” Somehow, you think, and a good part of you believes that his father is only doing this because he is too much of an arrogant himself to go fight. That his father is doing this only because he wants to keep his place on the throne as long as he can. Because he is the type of person who makes you really believe that he could have been the best alchemist considering he is so selfishly determined to stay on the throne that he would have probably found elixir of life.

And you see the ugly reality that his father does not care if something happens to Jeno during the war. It breaks you that Jeno sounds so hopeful when he says his father trusts him.

So in a moment of selfishness, you ask him. “Jeno, what if you die?”

He seems to get alarmed at the point where your voice gets shaky, and he tightens his hand around yours, leaning in and placing his other hand on your cheek as he stares deep into you, trying to reach your heart. “I won’t.” He shakes his head to further emphasize. “I won’t die. I have so much to do— we have so much to do still. I will come back,” Jeno’s thumb on your cheek rubs the surface firmly, his palm growing warm now. “I promise, my love. We must hold on for a little while longer.”

A part of you thinks why can you not see it? Do you really not see how your father is using you at a matter like this? How he is using you as a pawn and as a puppet, a mere imitation to his presence at the warfront?

But the other part of you says that what is done is done. That there is no way to hold him back from going after being assigned. And that very same part also notices how confident Jeno is being about this, and yearns to believe that his father had told him truthfully that he trusts him now.

So you give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

You nod at the Prince with a tight smile. The tears had not even arrived at your eyes because you wanted to keep him from getting upset because of your reaction, especially when he would be the one rushing to his destination to arrive by the morning and would involve himself in something way beyond training. With a turn of your head, you kiss his palm and nuzzle further into it, and he lifts your hand in his to kiss it. He does not pull your hand away from his lips and lets you recollect yourself with your eyes closed for a few moments.

“Love,” He whispers after some while. You open your eyes to meet with his fond ones that are looking at you, adoring you. “I need to ask you something before I go.”

You nod once again as he pulls his hand away from your cheek, and you start following the movement of his hand. It goes to his chest pocket on his jacket and digs something up into his palm before holding it in between the two of you.

Then he opens his palm with a smile on his face.

You notice the bunched up chain before you notice the sparkles that reflect the moonlight. And when your eyes fall onto them, there is a ring. A ring. With many small crystals all over it instead of a single or a few big ones. It looks delicate and easy to hide, with a simple knot to its shape and nothing else.

It means the world to you.

“This is not much of a surprise considering the amount of times we have spoken about the future, but,” He squeezes your hand. “Every time I look at you, I do not even dream about it anymore. I see it. And I want it. Because my heart says that it will always be you. Every day, every time. No matter what. Because I love you that much, and I want to go away this time knowing that when I come back to you, you will be my future and I will be yours.”

A bright smile that is a contrast to the dead of the night, yet one that matches his spreads across your face and he knows the answer then. But he asks the question anyway. “Would you do the honor of taking my hand in yours for the rest of eternity?”

The tears rush to your eyes and break free in a matter of maybe a couple of seconds if not within the same second and you nod. A tsunami-worth wave of emotions hit you; sadness at still not being over the fact of the war that was surely coming, happiness at the reality that you will get to keep your love for the rest of your life, nervousness at the uncertainty of it all, him going away and his father, but mostly— finally. Finally, finally.

Not finally, he asked me to marry him but finally, we are moving to the last stage of everything. We have fought for so long, and we have endured so much, and we now finally get to move onto the time where we get to be us without the obstacles. Everything is finally truly paying off.

With a smile on his face and his own unspilled tears in his eyes, he reaches over and puts the necklace on you and tucks it in to your night attire, patting the place the ring extends to. And he lets you kiss him afterwards.

He pulls away, though, before any of you can open your mouths and before the kiss can turn into anything less gentle. “I found a place. The registrar agreed to wed us in impartiality, and told me we could have a small and serene ceremony.” You listen to him with a newfound spark in your eyes that make Jeno fall for you all over again, your hands on his jaws. “You will love it there. It is deep in the forest and the road is really worn, but it only secures us further. No photographer would be able to follow us. There is a lake and lots of different trees varying from the rest of the forest at the ceremony area, and the place is so pretty at night with dim lights everywhere. It is really quiet, and the staff are very kind.”

Your lips land on his again with a quick and messy smooch, and he can feel you giggle into him. When you pull back you bite down at your lip in a smile washed over with excitement. “That sounds like a dream, Jeno.”

“I’m afraid it will all come true, your Majesty.”

Jeno laughs against your lips when you crash them onto his again, and lets you climb into his lap when you make the move.

The First Escapade

Your heart, for the lack of a better word, was racing.

Donghyuck was leading you somewhere. Neither of you were talking much, even the steps you were taking had to be calculated and soft so as not to alert any other guards that were on watch that night. Moving through the halls was a scary, almost foreign feeling— you would usually breeze through them. But not this once.

He had woken you up with a knock at your door, telling the doorkeeper that there was a minor problem with your belongings being sorted for the upcoming tour through the country that had to be sorted immediately according to your liking, and had taken you through the halls and down the many stairs. Most of which you had not once used in your life, and were widely used by the staff only.

He was good at distracting people, you had come to learn. The amount of people he had lied to and distracted by saying there was a problem with power shortage (which there was, and it was him that caused the shortage in the first place) and it had to be repaired but there were parts that had to be bought from the town (with all the businesses listed), and that the other group of guards would be coming to replace them would have been impressive even for politicians. And that was only the first of the lies he had told people that night.

Through the countless halls and stairways you passed through, you finally arrived at the basement. You had never been in there before, and it was a basement for basically just about anything— cars, old furniture, old belongings, a lot of scraps and some things covered with big, beige and gray drapes.

“We’re almost there, don’t worry.” Donghyuck had told your sleepy yet very much amazed self, bothering to turn around and laughing at whatever your expression was. You trailed behind him to the deeper corners of the basement, letting him lead you until he stopped in front of a group of furniture and what looked like instruments all bunched together.

“Is this it? They are surely not coming from the big entrance, and I would like to think you are not talented enough to smuggle them all the way inside here.”

There was a chuckle that echoed after that. “I don’t know whether you complimented or insulted me,” He was holding off on the honorifics seeing they could give everything away if someone had been watching, or were on your tails, or simply heard you. “But for the record, no they’re not.” And with that, he starts moving the old piano and the bigger pieces of furniture like a wardrobe and bookshelf— moving the rugs away and pushing the boxes with his feet until the metal square made itself apparent.

Donghyuck put the furniture he had pulled away in a way that would cover the two of you, a furniture wall if you will, and set the boxes on top of each other inside the wall as well as planting the rugs upright to imitate a cramped space behind the belongings.

It was kind of terrifying how good he was, and you could only hope he had learned such things in training.

Once he was done, he put a hand on his hip and pointed at the trapdoor. “We’ll be going in through there. It opens to the tunnels.”

The tunnels? They were more than a couple hundred years old, and supposedly in unusable condition, completely blocked. “I thought the palace was built on top of them to cover them up.”

“It was, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an opening to it. Only the King and the architect personnel know about this I think, someone I know mentioned that he wanted to rebuild the collapsed part back up once.” He shrugs. “But he apparently gave up on it after noticing it had gotten visible to the surface after the heavy snowfall made the dirt on it collapse. We’re going to that end now, and trust me when I say no one ever goes there.”

Going through an old trapdoor proved to be harder than you initially thought. The old ladder was slippery with whatever it was, most definitely not fit for two people, and a bit shorter than the drop down.

It took quite a bit of speed walking to get to the end Donghyuck was talking about, and it was mesmerizing to you how there was this complex system of tunnels with brick walls and cracked stone with small hints of life whether it be plants that made their way in through the cracks or bugs, or the occasional stray cats.

But when you reached the end, there they were. The two silhouettes at the opening of the tunnel system and the collapsed remainder of it behind them. Moonlight was shining through in between and around them as they chatted, both of their shoulders shaking with slight laughter. Although you could not see them, you knew which silhouette belonged to the Prince. Maybe because of the way his shoulders shook, or rather because you had known him for so long already that you could basically find him with your eyes closed if you had to.

The silhouettes turned towards you at the sound of your footsteps when they were audible to them, and you could see the smile on Jeno’s face even in the shade of the tunnels. Automatically you smiled back at him and hurried into his arms that welcomed you, hugging into his chest with a happy chuckle. He kissed your cheek, breathing in your scent, and nuzzled his forehead against the side of your face and neck much like a cat as he cozied against the crook of your neck for a brief moment.

He had his hands on your shoulders when he pulled back and took a look at you. “How are you, dove?”

You smile. “Sleepy, but otherwise well. You look far better than I do.” Jeno tilted his head with his eyes squinted. “I’m sleepy as well but the cold has a way of waking people up.” Not to you, after so many years of living here.

When he noticed Donghyuck who had been standing next to you for a few seconds at that point, he asked him about his well being and inevitably cut through his conversation with Jaemin with an apology to be polite. The two guards had been standing at a bit of a distance in order to give you some personal space, you noticed.

Then, he addressed them both in his gratitude. “Thank you for taking the time out of your sleep to make this possible for us,” When he said it, he meant it. You got two bright smiles in return, and words followed those of two of your favorite people in the world.

“We vowed to be loyal to you, to protect you no matter the circumstances and to keep you in safety, your Highness,” Donghyuck quoted the same way once how Jaemin had done. But his smile spread a bit further across his face as he looked at the two of you— with you leaning into Jeno’s side and his hand placed at your waist, almost back-hugging you as he tried to warm you up with his body heat, both of you oblivious to your states.

“And beyond that, we just want to see our best friends happy.”

The Last Wound

To say that the war had broken out would be a severe understatement.

As if on cue, mere weeks after Jeno’s words governments and monarchies around the world had started declaring war against nations upon nations, showing their feuds and unmet requests as the reasons. There were sides that were established; sides that your father refused to be a part of, hiding in the safety of neutrality for the time being. That being said, the military was still getting aided economically and personnel-wise, guards being transferred into several military branches they could serve in without much training and folk (usually the ones that were severely affected by the financial hardships of the war) taken into the accelerated guard training. There were many faces all around.

The land, thankfully, had been secure so far except for the economical burdens. People were still reliable. The monarchy and your family continued to be respected, presumably because of the immense effort your parents and you put into making feel everything as normal as you possibly could.

But news came in every single day, sometimes more times than you could count, and they were scary nonetheless.

Some nations were fighting on land, some at sea, some in the air. There were too many people that had lost their lives for absolutely no reason that should concern them and their words and actions. Too many had been left in poverty, in famine, in conditions that no human should be left in. Too many homes destroyed, too many businesses left unrecognizable.

Theoretically you had known it all. All your life you had been educated on the possibility of this exact situation. War and its consequences were something you knew too well already, but it was much different to experience it first-hand. And you were not even experiencing it truly first-hand, the people were.

Your routine had changed for the past few months as well. Everything was fast paced. You would be woken up in the mornings either by Donghyuck or your doorkeepers, and would immediately go to have breakfast, checking several newspapers in the process while listening to your father’s senior advisor read out the papers that had arrived that day and summarize the reports of the past days. Then you would move to your office to deal with all the paperwork that were unnecessary burdens on your parents’ shoulders. They would be taking care of calls and meetings while you dealt with the maths and the written bureaucracy. That would go on until it was late in the night and you had to go to sleep to start all over again the next day.

One of the most concerning facts was that you had not heard from Jeno in months, aside from the rare shared secret phone calls between your primary guards and the one letter he was able to send at the very start of things. All you knew was that he was not dead, according to the countless newspapers you had read so far.

And that was all that mattered.

Surely there were days where you were more concerned about him and his well being, but you tried to keep your attention on your work and your people. The distraction, and the fruits of your hard work helped to keep you in line.

It is on one night where you are lounging around with your family in the library to read and forget about the problems a little that Donghyuck barges in, but with a few knocks beforehand in proper etiquette.

He bows his head in greetings when your heads turn at him, and when he picks it up, you can see the slight panic on his face. “Good evening your Excellence. Your Majesty,” Then, he physically turns to you, pointing his feet at your direction where you  stood, picking out another book. “Your Highness, I have the car ready.”

You furrow your brows. “For what reason?”

“There is a tree selection going on to be distributed to people in need,” Your father says without glancing up from his book. “You have been working so hard lately and you hardly even go out to the garden. You deserve to take a breather. Go and take your coat.”

So you do.

Hurrying to your room, you ask for a staff to give you your coat and gratefully receive the help that they offer when they dress you. Donghyuck walks after you, waiting for you just outside of your door. When you come out you realize the restless look he has to his body. Especially when he starts speed walking right after you come out of your room.

He does not say a single word until you are out of the building and walking through the garden, he only encourages you to hurry up. But when you are close to the gates opening up to the road of the palace, he speaks up. “You aren’t selecting trees, I’ve got that covered.”

Your response is immediate. “Where are we going then? Did something happen?” The snow crunches below your feet and it is growing harder to keep up with Donghyuck’s pace as he keeps his eyes nowhere but forwards. “He’s here. I’m taking you to him.”

Donghyuck’s words make your heart jump in your chest half in excitement and half in worry. “How is he—?”

“They were moving bases. Jaemin said the Prince told him to make a stop at the forest,” He smiles slightly then, as you can see from the side. “He needs to see you, apparently.”

A warm feeling spreads over your chest, and excitement finally takes over, as well as happiness. “That is fortunate, because I need to see him as well.”

The car ride to the forest closer to the top of the mountains was a bumpy and somewhat long ride in the black car that melted into the dark go the night. Towns all around were strictly following a dark-out rule each night after a certain hour— to make the areas undetectable from the air and hard to detect even in person in case of an attack. Therefore the ride is definitely dark except for the shining lights of the car, the snowfall growing faster as it climbs up.

Donghyuck sits beside you instead of at the front seat and keeps his eyes narrow and focused on the road. At some point he leans forward and tells the driver that they can drop you two off at this point, and that they should be back here to pick you up in a couple hours sharp.

And then, you two leave the car.

He helps you with walking uphill in the thick snow. The snowfall, although fast paced, is with big and fluffy flakes. Nonetheless, when the slightest wind makes the flakes hit your face, it hurts.

The two of you walk deep into the forest, deeper than you would have expected, and you have a good feeling that you would not have trusted with the process if it was not Donghyuck walking beside you with a lantern in his hand. Another lantern gets visible after a while.

And you get happy, so happy like a child, slipping a bit on the snow when you try to pick your pace up.

But when you see their faces, your heart drops.

You notice Jaemin’s face first, as he is the one holding the lantern, and you notice the big healing slash on the side of his face. It is the initial alarm for you that immediately makes your gaze turn to Jeno who is standing beside him.

And surely enough, he looks horrible. There are several cuts on his face that are not as big as the slash on Jaemin’s cheek but still quite fresh, his lip has long busted before and is now almost healed, there are stitches near his hairline on the left side, and his under-eyes are almost a plum-colored purple from how dark they are. You can almost feel his hurt.

“Oh my god,” Is the first thing that leaves your mouth when you hurry towards him. “What happened to you?”

You try to hug him but he hisses, prompting you to lean back and take his face into your hands instead, inspecting the injuries. This is exactly what I was talking about, you think, I knew something like this would happen. I knew you and the people around you would get hurt somehow, so why did you have to go and fight?

“My love,” Jeno greets you by nuzzling deep into your hands, his head dropping a little, but you do not listen to him. “Are you two okay? What happened?”

“The base got raided, your Highness.” Jaemin responds, and you notice he sounds almost too good for a person that has such a wound on his face. “Hence the change of bases.”

“I am healthy. Just sore.” Jeno adds, and chuckles drily once. “Turns out I am not all too good at one-on-one combat.” He tries to be funny despite themselves, but the state they are in is too bad for it to work. Making light of whatever had happened seemed like a far stretch.

Naturally, you cannot bring yourself to laugh at his joke. “I am thankful for that,” But you smile to comfort you both despite the situation. “Not that you got your bums handed to you, but that you are healthy.”

Jeno giggles with his mouth closed at that, and lets you pull him to a kiss when you tug at his face. His face feels really cold, more so than yours, and you wonder just how long they had been standing outside deep in the forest. “You are cold,” You breathe onto his lips.

“Mhm,” He mumbles. “But I want to stay for longer.” He joins in on it when a smile spreads pulls at the corners of your lips.

Getting a move on, you both sit on the snow under a tree not wanting to stand up for longer because in all honesty, Jeno looks nothing but exhausted. Donghyuck hands his lantern to you so you could have a light source before walking away with Jaemin— not too far as it is easier than ever to get lost in the forest with the dark night and the heavy snow.

“How have you been?” You ask Jeno once you are both comfortably seated, holding his hands in yours in an attempt to warm them up even though he seems to be in some of his warmest clothes. There was no guide on how to approach someone who has been through things he had been through, so you did not know how to and the best you could do was being careful about it. “How are things out there?”

“Like hell,” His answer is immediate. “People invade anywhere and everywhere, making decisions is so difficult, sometimes everything is so loud and mostly unnecessary and—“ He takes a breath. “A lot of them die. From both sides.”

Your heart drops further. “Do the decisions you make, do you think they—?”

Jeno shrugs and shakes his head. “I do not know. I try not to think about it.” His answer is spit out quickly. He takes a hand out of your hold, shaking with stress and probably exhaustion. His fingers rub his temple and his thumb rubs the middle of his forehead to try and ease the tension. “They are not even my decisions,” He speaks with pent up frustration and anger. “What goes in the end is my father’s word and demand.”

“He makes the decisions for you?” You ask with brows furrowed further. “When you are the lieutenant in the field?” A ridiculed chuckle leaves your mouth. “Why is he not there then?”

“I try to deal with everything as peacefully as I can, I plan all these negotiations and I mean, I use the advice that the counselors and other senior military personnel give me,” Jeno rambles. “But when I tell him about it he says that it does not work out for the plan according to the policies we have when in fact they do. Then why did he let me train in the military for so long?”

His chest moves up and down quickly and deeply when he is done with his words. You can see his eyes glistening, which is why you approach him lighter with your next words. “You do not have to inform your father beforehand,” At that, he turns his face to you. “If people agree with you, the heir and the lieutenant, you do not have to get your father’s permission. Let him know afterwards instead.”

“That is ridiculous.” An airy laugh comes out of Jeno. It irks you, how his first move is to shut you out. “He is the King. He has done this for years, and even after this all ends it is his word that counts. And he is my father, I do not want to disappoint him. One wrong thing I make, and all he ever did goes to trash.”

“I am sorry to say this, but in my eyes your father is someone with dead straight views. You could prove yourself to him by showing him it could all work out if your word went instead of his around the field— you could get away with less harm as well,” You try to reach him with your words, your voice soft in an attempt to not agitate him further. “You really do not have to follow your father’s guidance.”

“I do!” You know that it is the pure frustration speaking. “You don’t! Didn’t your father send you there because he trusted you? You are a man fully grown and capable of making your decisions— you will be the ruler sooner than later. Doing what your father tells you to do, constantly, is not going to help with anything especially in the future when it will be you who has the call on everything.”

There is a silence where the two of you do nothing but look at each other. His eyes shift continuously and very slightly as if they are trembling. His jaw clenches and he lets a loaded breath out that comes from deep within his chest, letting his head turn forward again and his back hit the tree. He furrows his brows and a couple of his shaky fingers come up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” Another burdened breath. “He has been saying he is proud of me.”

And you understand what it is about.

Nevertheless you hate that he lets his father’s pride do this to him; getting him hurt both mentally and physically. Like before the war, you act in a moment of selfishness as you take his hand in yours again and give it a squeeze. “Let’s run away.” Your voice sounds firm and confident. “Get married at that place deep in the forest, and go to some other place. Run from this madness wherever it follows us and come back when everything is over with,” The smile on your face is audible in your words. “We would be so free, Jeno.”

But Jeno breaks your heart into pieces when a sad chuckle leaves his lips and a heavy whine follows. “I wish we could.”

Without another word, you lean towards him and kiss his neck, his jaw, his cheek and temple. Pulling his hand away from the side of his nose on his cheek, which became its resting place after squeezing the bridge of his nose, you place his arms around you and pull him down to your shoulder by his hair for him to rest. He kisses the side of your neck as well, smiling at the feeling of the slinging chain around it, and slides his head back down.

Your hand still in his hair playing with it, you whisper your last sense to him. “It is your pride in yourself that matters. Not his.”

Jeno only nods. And within a few minutes of his steady breathing, he is fast asleep on your shoulder.

When the guards come back after so long a while you spent playing with his hair mindlessly, you have one request from Jaemin. “Make sure he sleeps on the way, will you?”

The First Breakdown

The first time he had cried to you had happened at a surprise visit.

In fact, he had visited you because of it. Had taken more than several hours of his time and more than several lies through his mouth just to get to you and to be vulnerable. In his defense, it was because he could be so vulnerable only with you.

Even so, you had never seen him cry before.

It was in the middle of the night again when Donghyuck had knocked on the door of your office, where you were catching up on some of your studies. He had told you that you had a visitor, and that they were waiting for you, and it had been all that it took for you to stand up from your chair and start walking with him. Following him, you had gone to the basement again, moved the furniture again, went down the trapdoor again, walked a lot again, and had seen the two silhouettes at the end of the tunnel again.

Only this time, only one of the silhouettes’ shoulders were shaking. And not because of laughter.

Jeno had started crying the moment he had spotted you. Jaemin tried to talk to him, but Donghyuck only pulled him away to go away for keeping watch; gave the two of you the privacy you needed.

It came as a shock at first. Jeno never cried— not once, you think, in the entire time you had known him starting from your childhood years. Even when people cried around him. Even when he was at a funeral. Even when he was too happy. Even when he got hurt and was in physical pain. The only exception would be the times you saw him angry where his eyes would tear up, but never did they spill before.

After they left you—  without wasting any time— pulled Jeno to you, letting him hug you however and wherever he needed. He made himself comfortable with his face in your shoulder, close to your neck, and his arms around your waist with hands spread across your back. You ran your fingers through his hair as he sobbed. Violently so. You could tell whatever he was crying about was not a one-time thing. It had been bottled inside and pent up for too long.

He held you that way and cried maybe for an hour straight for all you knew. But when his tears died down and all that was left were sniffles, you had finally asked him. “What is the matter, sweetheart?”

There was a content sniffle at the choice of your rare use of a nickname, if that could even be a thing. But a few heavy breaths followed after that, like he wanted to say the things on his mind but could not bear to. You only pulled your chest away from his to be able to look into his eyes, and shook your head. “You do not have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Jeno placed his forehead on yours and stood in place, breathing with his eyes shut. You shut your eyes too, trying to connect with him at a level that is beyond words because that was what he seemed to need.

But then his voice cut through the night. “I just want him to love me.”

It angered you to no extent that you knew who he was talking about. “What did he do?”

He chuckled bitterly. “Humiliated me in front of my mother’s family and the whole staff at my early birthday celebration in the morning.” There was a gulp as he weighed the words that were told to him once again, as if they would have been lighter that time. “Said he could not believe I was his only son and only child. That a peasant would have done a better job at being a king if he placed one on the throne right then and there. That I am lost in useless studies. That whatever I do is still clumsy as if I am a kid.”

You let him rant on because whatever this was, it seemed to work. “I try so hard to meet his every demand. His dreams for me are so challenging to keep up with but I honestly try, I do.”

“I know,” But he was not done. “I try to be a good son for him and my mother and I work really hard and I train really hard and—“

“I know, sweetheart.” You pulled slightly away again, and hated that you saw tears flowing down his face once more. “What did your mother do? Did she do something?”

“She told me to go to my room and that she would come to get me,” The smile on his face was tight. “But I couldn’t.” A single sob left his mouth, defeated. “So I asked Jaemin to sneak me out.”

“You did the right thing,” Jeno shook his head and tried to turn it away from you, but your hands took a hold of it from the back. “Hey,” You forced him into eye contact, and saw that his tear-invaded eyes looked almost drunk. Empty and sluggish. Nothing like his usual sparkling, poem-worthy orbs. “You did the right thing by getting out and away from there.” But he shook his head, so you shook yours in a questioning manner, prodding him to tell you why. “When we get back they will ask him about everything first and then they will ask me. I am just troubling him.”

“Believe me when I say you are not. He is your best friend before he is your guard. He cares about you, sweetheart.”

It took awhile for that to sink in, but it did in the end and he nodded, which was what mattered. And you succeeded at making him smile genuinely when you kissed the tip of his nose.

What truly sucked then was the fact that you could not tell him that his father would love him someday. Because you did not believe in it, and you would not tell him what was a blatant lie to you. And despite it all, your beliefs, you could see how much he wanted to be loved by him. How much he wanted to be recognized by him.

So what could you have told him? ‘You do not need his love.’? That did not sound right. That felt like it was the opposite of what he should have heard. ‘Our love for you is stronger than your father’s lack thereof.’? That simply was not true for him even if it was for you and for Jaemin and for his mother, because there was a hole punched in his heart and he wanted it to be filled. Rightfully so.

In the end, you did not tell him anything related to his father. You just told him what was true to you. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I am so grateful you are here, with me.”

The Last Breakdown

The two of you had not talked to each other in months, let alone see each other.

The war had been going on for too long at that point. It was a wake up call that showed you just how insatiable rulers were. If it was not land they were looking for, it was people that they could exploit in labor, or valuable reserves like mines or things like historical monuments that could be stolen. People were dying still. Even more so than the beginning, in fact. Some places were left in famine, a lot of places were taken over by other rules. Any war crime you could think of was most likely happening just outside the borders of your family’s rule.

Since day one of your education you had learnt about law and order, and ethics, and just like that they were all thrown out of the window in this chaos.

Standing in neutrality had proved to be harder and harder day by day as well. The economic conditions were not getting any better, trade was almost impossible because of the disassociation the other powers and partners who had declared their sides were putting you through, and the damage was big even though your family’s rule was one of the most powerful. Unemployment rates had risen despite your immense efforts to keep it stable, and in turn, healthcare had become a problem, hunger— especially throughout the population who had already been struggling with making a living below the hunger threshold— had become a problem, crime rates were on the rise.

Which was why your father, by the obligation the sociopolitical states provided him, declared sides one morning. Thinking it would be the best thing to do.

Of course it was opposite to the side where Jeno and his family’s rule had sided with. Your families’ stances had never been the same, so there was absolutely no way they could be now. And frankly, you did not care about that even though you recognized how big of an ordeal it was. All you could care about was the safety of your people and your loved ones in these cruel conditions.

Scratch that. You wanted innocent people to stay out of harm’s way. That was all.

War, in your opinion, was cowardice. You still could not wrap your head around the fact that people were mostly doing this just because they had feuds within themselves and the circle of their class. Hundreds of thousands, even millions of innocent lives were destroyed both literally and figuratively over some disagreements between only several rulers that were their ‘representatives’. Which was in fact the biggest lie you could have ever heard of, because they were just hungry for their exclusive benefits. There was nothing in this war’s roots where the actual folk were represented. Just elite individuals and their selfish problems.

Just because the said elite individuals did not want to make sacrifices.

The biggest cowardice.

After the declaration, the hard work you had to put yourself through was at least doubled if not tripled or quadrupled. You could barely get sleep anymore, and would count yourself lucky if you managed to get some shut-eye for a few hours seeing that even when you did get to lie down on your bed it would be restless with thoughts racing through your head. Most of your responsibilities still revolved around document work but at this point the document work had gotten more important and heavier in and of itself, to the point where your eyes burned and your brain screamed at you to give up reading the papers. The maths of it all had gotten a lot worse as well because now there were so many spontaneous expenses paid that sometimes there would be problems with communicating on time between bureaus and people, which would in turn lead to wrong calculations and wrong reports— which would in turn cause you to do everything from scratch again. Sometimes a single, seemingly minor error would take days to make right again.

The Prince came to visit you on one of those restless nights where you were rolling around in your bed with the discomfort weighing on your mind.

Donghyuck came to your door again and requested the doorkeepers to alert you that he was there. They did, and something in your heart immediately knew what was happening, so you only took your coat and bolted out the door.

And now he is rushing through the halls beside you, with you following him. “Where even are they?” You whisper as you pick your pace up, not even in the condition to feel excited about it.

“There is this abandoned farmhouse in the fields across the town.” He responds back, and your eyes widen. “How are they so close?”

“They are both in the military, your Highness.” His voice is serious as he speaks. “I would expect their stealth to be outstanding.”

Donghyuck leads you outside to the back road of the palace and it is raining outside, definitely with an intention to completely pour down within the hours that would follow. He covers your head as best he can with his jacket and places his hand at the top of the car when he opens the door for you, before hopping in himself.

Which is the exact point that you realize there is no driver, and that he hops into the driver’s seat.

“Donghyuck?” You lean forward with a frown on your face, placing your hand on top of the headrest-less seat which has its quality so that guards and whoever is inside can see the people sitting at the back (usually royals or their guests) better to ensure their safety. “What are you doing?”

“This is not a matter we can bring more people into at this point,” He says as he starts the car. “I basically bribed the guards to shut up about taking you outside the palace. If I brought a driver, I would have had to explain the situation.”

The frown deepens on your face just as he presses the gas and the car starts moving. “With what money?” You ask him, and you genuinely fear his answer at that moment.

He carefully drives his way out, even the guards at the gates not stopping the car to question his antics. It really was a wonder how much money he could have offered to them for their silence at only you leaving the palace with him, at an ungodly hour, in a car, and no other information given. It felt extremely suspicious even for an heir and their primary guard.

You could not help but also notice his silence after starting to drive, so you pushed your question. “Donghyuck, with what money?”

The guards tilts his head and licks his lips before making eye contact with you through the rear mirror for a split second. “I had been saving some from the allowance my mother sends me and from my paychecks for some time,” His eyes turn back to the road as your mouth falls open and your brows furrow, about to protest. But he beats you to it. “It doesn’t matter, really,” He says, and you know he means it, because you can hear the genuineness. “It doesn’t matter if it’s for the relief and happiness of my best friend and the person I’ve vowed to protect.”

At his words, you slump back against the seats. There is a lump in your throat that makes it hard to speak, so you do not. You only turn your gaze to the scenery outside your window and take out your necklace through the collar of your coat, holding your engagement ring in shame. It does give you comfort, but you still find yourself wanting to cry.

The ride does not take too long despite the rain, as there are no people outside and on the roads because of the dark-out policy, and since it is a fairly straight drive with no hills to drive up.

The two of you reach the farmhouse without a hassle. Donghyuck puts the car somewhere less visible (even though it is nighttime and the car’s exterior matches the dark) before he allows you to get out. He then guides you to the barn where the Prince and his guard must be and opens the doors.

Again, there are a couple of lanterns around that provide dim and unnoticeable light. The heir and his guard are standing apart, and you can see your love walking up and down with his hands linked at his back. He halts, however, when he sees you.

You waste no time in running into his arms, and the ugly sob that leaves your body is loud enough for everybody to hear when you tackle him with your arms around his neck and shoulders. The tears break free when you nuzzle yourself into him everywhere, squeezing him tight for numerous reasons. Because you missed him so incredibly much, because everything was going bad, because you were tired and you knew he was also tired, because he is looking better than last time where he almost gave you a heart attack, because you love him, and because it hurts that everything has come to a point where two of the people that care about both of you the most, and two of whom you care about the most, has to put themselves in danger and through many sacrifices. Because you feel ashamed for what you are causing. Because somehow everyone standing in that barn is hurt someway or another, even if they are things that all of you can make right whether it be by yourselves or with help.

“I have you, sweetheart,” Jeno whispers as he kisses your cheek, catching a tear that was trailing its way down. You smile at your shared and reserved nickname for the times where one of you had to console the other while they cried, but it is still a bitter one, because you can hear his choked voice as well. “I have you. It is alright.”

But you can see Jaemin behind him and Donghyuck, who is looking down at the ground. Jaemin looks at you with pity and genuine sadness, so much of those that you cannot give them a meaning. Yet it fires something in you when he looks at you like that. The best you can do is to cover your eyes with your hand. “Jeno, we—“

“I know. I know, my love.” He kisses you once more, this time from the top of your head. He rubs your back and holds you tight in his arms as you cry in your shame and emotional overload.

Why does it have to be this way? You think. Why is it so hard to make things work? Why is abhorrence at the base of everything, even love? I love you and you love me, so why do others have to be involved? Why do other factors have to be involved? And even if they have to be involved, why do others have to get hurt because of our love? Why does everything need to be so precise in order to have a chance for this to work? Why can’t this be happy and like a game again, where our excitement is caused by the fluttering of our hearts and not because of the dread that makes our heart race? Why do you have to do what you have to do, and why do I have to do what I have to do?  Outside of our love, why do people have to suffer? Why are people so selfish and filled with so much hatred that there is no place in their hearts for negotiation nor empathy? Why does everything link back to those people in the first place? Why are those people in charge of everything in life?

You weep, and Jeno holds you. He sits you down, and pulls you close to his lap, and he holds you. He asks the guards to please wait somewhere else, and he holds you. Your weeping subsides, and he holds you.

And you remember, when all that is left is your sniffling, that his voice was choked too. That he was about to cry too, when you first walked in.

So you ask him with your hoarse voice. “Why were you upset before, when I first saw you?”

His hand that holds you pulls you close a little tighter. “I wanted to tell you something, but I don’t think I can.”

Your eyes furrow again, but you nod once. “Why?”

He chuckles this deep, airy, thick huff that is full to the brim with emotions you cannot quite decipher, and then says what is on his mind. And his voice is so sad, so loaded and tired that you tear up again at his hopeless words. “I suppose you would not love me the same.”

A tear falls onto his hand resting on his lap with that.

The First ‘I Love You’

Dreamy, was all you could say about it.

It was the fruit of most probably the stupidest thing you two had ever done in your relationship. On one summer night where Jeno and his family were hosting a dance for his cousin’s engagement, he had stood beside you and leant into your ear to tell you that you should meet with him at the vineyard in their garden in half an hour, and excuse yourself saying you are going to your room. He seemed to be playful that night, conversing with anyone and everyone that stood in his way and entertaining them; genuinely happy for his cousin and his fiancé. On top of being entertaining, he looked like he was entertained as well. Aside from the happiness he felt for the couple, there was this whole-hearted, content smile on his face. Even when nobody was conversing with him, or looking at him.

You had gone there as a representative with only Donghyuck accompanying you. The King and the Queen were too busy with duties revolving around politics— and in all honesty, they did not want to be too involved with his family in the first place. So they had sent you as a solution.

It was a good solution for them and you. You could not protest such a plan.

Half an hour seemed to not pass at first. You were eager to be with him, as you did not have the time to meet beforehand, and to be close to him. There was something about the way he made you feel when he smiled around and beamed like a sun under the moonlight with his happiness like that.

To make the time pass, you did everything you could possibly think of. You conversed with people you do not have the slightest connections to, barely knowing who they were. Congratulated the engaged couple with a polite manner and got surprised by the same politeness they seemed to showcase. In return delivered a short speech to them about how lucky they were to find each other and to be with the person they loved and be open and celebrated about it in a world like yours where relationships like theirs between a royal and a commoner were hard to come by.

As if on cue, Donghyuck who must have been informed about the meeting beforehand called for you from just behind you, prompting you to excuse yourself by saying you had already had quite the travel, and that you would be leaving early tomorrow morning. That you had to catch some rest before you left for duty. They nodded in understanding and thanked you for coming, sending their best wishes to your family.

They were almost too good for the royal family they belonged to, but all of it was genuine.

Donghyuck walked you to the front yard then, taking you to the small vineyard area where Jeno was standing. Jaemin was at a distance as far as you could tell, conversing with other staff that seemed to not be guards. Soon enough, though, the staff he had talked to would leave and go to the backyard where the celebration was, leaving the four of you alone in the visible distance.

Jeno met you halfway, greeting you with a sweet peck on your lips. “Welcome, dove,” From the side of your eyes you saw Donghyuck leaving after seeing you two meet to greet Jaemin in the distance.

You giggled at Jeno’s words then, looking at his eyes that bore the rather occasional glasses that night. “I have been here for quite a while now.” He tilted his head and nodded, squinting his eyes, silently saying you are right but not spot on. “But you haven’t been here when it is completely empty. An immensely different version of this place.”

Furrowing your brows, you smiled at him mischievously. “What are you trying to imply?”

And he played along. “The guards are changing shifts,” With a hand, he moved his jacket’s sleeve to look at his watch with slightly furrowed brows. “We still have around five minutes, and I was thinking we could go to my room.”

He beat you to it to understand the rather shocking and awkward way his words sounded. “Only if you would like to.” Even under the weak light of the stars, you could see the embarrassment flushed over his face. The boldness he held had almost dissipated.

All honesty due, you wanted to go to his room. It sounded amazing, getting to spend time with him one-on-one completely alone for the first time outside of a library, where even guards would not enter to leave you unbothered while doing your studies. You wanted to have him to yourself truly, without guards or anybody else for once. So you nodded. “I would like that.”

The smile was back on his face. “Then we should hurry up.”

Taking your hand in his, he hurried you inside. Their palace was just as grand as yours. It was dizzying with the halls and the open plan, grand staircases, and it held a lot of colors to it presumably because of the warm climate. Paintings on the walls, lots of feature walls with art painted onto them, gold linings and marble floors. Nothing like yours, which is older than theirs so a bit grimmer with the colors. The cold climate had its effects on it too. Mostly everything was either dark in color like deep blues and greens or extremely light like almost-white grey, with old wood on the rooms’ floors and stone in the halls.

When you entered Jeno’s room, it felt weirdly familiar. Both of you had balconies, for instance. His balcony doors were right beside his bed, and his room was cluttered with bookshelves just like yours, blueprints and pencils lying around on his desk and his paintings of planets and constellations leaning against the wall under his desk, some of his favorite research papers and scientific articles messily pinned on a big cork board.

His room felt a lot like him to you. It looked all about his interests, anything other than politics which seemed to drain both of your personalities out slowly but surely.

It looked like a safe space.

He showed you his paintings and told you all about them. His love for Neptune for example, how he liked its color and its personation in mythology. How he loved sketching stars the way he understood them from the books he read, transitioning through their seven stages of life, growing bigger and stronger until they expand into a Red Giant where it is its biggest at a diameter up to a hundred times of its original diameter to then transform into a White Dwarf where everything is dense and quickly growing cold, losing all of its personality, and finally the Black Dwarves where they were so old and so cold. Jeno went on to talk to you about how in way too far into the future eventually all the stars would be Black Dwarves and the universe would be even colder than it was then, but that there would be a second explosion where something new started.

He showed you his blueprints, skimming through the lines with his fingers, and told you how he dreamt of renovating the palace with his own prints someday. And he told you about the scientists that would inspire him to not give up on learning about space no matter what.

Jeno did talk about his interests, but usually they were confined to conversations in the library. Never had you once seen him talk about it so passionately before, the kind of passion where it added new sparks to his eyes, and something about it made you extremely happy to see.

At some point he realized he had been rambling about all these things in his room and the stories behind them, and had apologized. “Ah,” He rubbed his nape as it hit him with a chuckle. “Sorry. I get excited when people pay attention to these.”

“No, don’t,” You shrugged with your own smile. “You should not be sorry. It is very refreshing to see someone be so passionate about something.”

There is the start of a silence, but you cut through it before it can take over, pointing to the board. “And I agree with those scientists. Keep learning about the universe in your free time. It would be a shame if you got shackled to the small ground underneath.”

Jeno laughed at that, his shoulders shaking with the airy release. When it died down he looked around his room, his bookcases and desk, and the door that led to his bathroom, the documents he had taken care of that day before the event had started placed on the armchair next to the bookshelf, several notes set on them reminding him to do the things he had to take care of the next day.

And then he huffed, walking over to his bed and sitting down. He fiddled with his fingers a little. Looked up at the ceiling. Another lonely chuckle left him as he contemplated on what he wanted to say. “Can you.. Do you think—?“ One more fierce huff through his nose, but then he looked at you. “Can you not go to your room tonight?”

He saw that you were about to protest on auto-control, so he stopped it before it could happen, and made it a silent promise to himself that it would be okay if you wanted to leave. Even if it happened to be right then. “We do not have doorkeepers at night. No offense to how your family does things, but it feels creepy for me to have it, so we just do not have them. You would not be stuck or anything.” He shrugged, smiling but pouting at the same time, if it could even be a thing. “It is just really nice to have you in here.”

With the comfort of what he had just told you, you smiled and hoped Donghyuck would not lose his mind until the morning. “I think I can stay.”

Walking over to him on his bed, you stood in front of him and let him hug your middle with his head on your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair repeatedly knowing he liked the combing feeling on his scalp. At some point while you played with his hair and scalp he tilted his head, placing his chin on your stomach instead and looking up at you with a smile on his face. The genuine, happy and content smile you had seen on his face throughout the night before you fled to his room. “I think I am in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

Your fingers faltered with the smile that spread on your face, and the warmth that spread through your chest surely reached everywhere at the spoken knowledge of being loved. Truly and utterly loved.

You had your suspicions of it before with the way his words sounded and the way he acted. But to hear them being confirmed, so casually and bold and with confidence, made you feel like the most important person alive. In a different way than how it had felt all your life. Like it was only the two of you that mattered on the face of the Earth. Hell, like it was only the two of you that existed on the face of the Earth.

Then your hands retracted from his hair to carefully take his glasses off, putting them on the side table closest to you. Slowly you knelt down until you were face to face with him, and told your love your only request from him. “Kiss me and promise me a forever.”

So he did. Jeno gulped a little at first, keeping his eye contact with an intense gaze, one that mirrored everything in and around him. But then he crashed your lips with his, bringing a hand up to your neck and tugging at it gently in hopes of bringing you down onto the bed with him, which ended up being a wish that you granted. You let him pull you down and lay you down on the bed underneath him as he kissed you, not only on your lips anymore but anywhere he could find exposed. “I don’t want to call you dove anymore, as pretty as it is.”

“Hm?” Was all you could respond with as he kissed your neck. “I want to call you my love.”

At that did something burn and tumble inside you, and you found yourself talking before you could hold it back. “Say that again.”

He laughed out a huff. “My love,” He kissed your collarbone, nibbling only a little, driving you two to the edge with the frustration of what did not come after. “My love,” The nook between your jaw and your neck. “My love.” And your lips, sinking down with all he could offer you. It sounded better— more right in his ears to call you that, and you had to admit that the feeling of being treated exactly like what he called you was otherworldly.

When he pulled away from you, his lips puffy and his gaze still intense yet somewhat softer with the adoration that made itself more apparent, he gave his promise. “I love you my love, and I will for an eternity.”

With a laugh, you gave him your own promise right then and there too. “I promise to love you until the end of time.”

He found it appropriate to meet his lips with yours again, and this time, it was with a newfound hunger you had for each other, filled with the wish to know one another on a level you could not know otherwise had you not loved each other, intimate and private and special. The kind that made your heart race and your stomach twist in the best way possible. The kind that did not feel rushed, but instead gave you relief in knowing yes, it had not been wrong all this time. It was him for you, and for him it was you; the one.

Jeno made love to you that night when he asked you if he could and you gave him the permission, wanting to lose yourself in him and his love and yours. For once you got to spend a whole night with him, making love and talking and showing your love to each other.

And after that, the memory of him under his white sheets kissing you and laughing with the light blue of the lifting night, and the weak but golden-white rays of the early morning sun became the dearest thing to your heart and mind.

Jeno and white, and Jeno in white reminded you of that night.

The Last Goodbye

Everything starts at the dead of the night.

You do not know what was more alarming to you. The crashing sounds of windows that woke you up from your light sleep? The hurried steps that turned into running outside your room, breaking into an unsettling rhythm in the pure silence? The sound of crashing doors and harshly turned locks? The sounds of metal clanking? The occasional firing of the guns and the couple of groans and shouts that follow them? The shouted codes between the guards right outside your room? The surprised curses that leave whoever’s mouths? The unsettling feeling of not knowing who is who outside, perhaps?

Or the fact that you are completely alone for a few minutes, not knowing where to hide because of the shock?

More, the fact that Donghyuck takes longer than you would expect him to come get you, pushing you into thinking did they get to him? Did something happen to him?

There is not a single question in your mind about what this is. The palace is getting raided with soldiers— not that many like a whole army, considering the somewhat inactive nature the commotion seemed to have while you listened to it from your room. Never did you ever feel grateful that your room was placed in a deep and unsophisticated hall away from the library and the archives and the throne room, but you felt so grateful for it as you could do nothing but hide yourself away, locking the balcony doors and covering the doors with your curtains— completely blacking your room out.

You hurry over to the bathroom then, waiting next to the wardrobe sunken into the wall, knowing the far right compartment of it has an opening to a pathway between the walls of the rooms in between the halls that is otherwise inaccessible except from the way down.

The commotion grows more aggressive as you wait. Gunshots grew more frequent yet did not fail to make you jump in your place, and it is when you hear an order of search around that you lock yourself further in your room, locking the bathroom doors as well. You could not see anything, so there was nothing to do but wait for Donghyuck until he came to get you. Just opening the compartment and walking into it was not a possibility as well, since you had no idea what was and was not going on down under the palace.

You lose sense of time as you sit on the cold, stone floor of your bathroom. You lose a big chunk of your sense of self as well. That big chunk of your self melts into the sense you lost, vision, and doubles your attention on hearing. Everything sounds more clear, more violent, and more scary, as you hear bodies falling onto the ground and punches and kicks if it was not guns and daggers. You did not even know such sounds could leave from people’s mouths when they shouted orders and codes and warnings.

Maybe you wait for an hour. Maybe for a few. Or only a few minutes. But in the end someone opens the compartment open silently, filling the bathroom with the artificial light coming from the lantern in their hand, and you only hope that it is Donghyuck.

Thankfully, it is.

His head peeks out from the door and he searches for you, rushing over when he spots you. He kneels down on his feet to level with you and holds his arm out. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” You say, but truthfully, you do not know how you are. You are okay in the sense that you do not have any wounds or injuries, but experiencing something so violent you had only known in theory before? Could anybody be okay when they experience such things, and are separated from the people they care about, completely isolated even though it is in an effort to keep them safe?

Donghyuck links his arm in yours and pulls you off the floor and bolts the two of you out of the compartment door. He locks it behind him, and takes his belt off of his pants, rounding it around the top of the door hinge and securing it by tying— trying to push the door forwards and back, satisfied when it does not budge the slightest bit.

He then picks the lantern he had placed on the ground and rushes over to you, leading you to the narrow stone stairway and taking you down.

The way down is far deep. You pass through rooms you had not known existed, open and close countless doors at the top of the stairways, and you have a good feeling that you go way down under the ground floor of the palace. But you arrive at the destination within a few minutes of basically running down the stairs nonetheless, and you know it is the lair under the palace that you had never been in before.

It is almost a smaller version of the palace. There is a lounging area, a very compact library and office separated in a small room, a kitchen and a bathroom all the same. The place has its own landline— though you hardly expect it to be available to anyone outside of staff.

You can see the council members, some of the military officials, and their personal guards, along with some staff from the kitchen who had most probably been doing early preparation for the next day. There are documents of all kinds sprawled across the lounge table and some across the floor, and you see the military officials jotting down their notes, as well as the heads of the council. All eyes land on you when you walk down the last step and hear Donghyuck close the door from behind.

Your parents are nowhere to be seen.

With your hands sweating immediately and clammy, you ask. “Where are my parents?”

Your father’s senior advisor stands up and walks over to you as a few others look down. There is nothing good that could come out of that, and you feared the answer, to the point where you do not know if you want to hear it. The advisor lands his hands at the sides of your arms, a touch you do not mind and find rather comfortable, considering you had known him your entire life and would trust him with everything. “Your Highness,” He starts. Donghyuck comes to stand just a step behind you before he can continue. “The King has gotten severely injured, but he is stable and soon he will hopefully be in good health.” His wrinkled, bright eyes look at you behind his glasses reassuringly and calmly. You wonder how he actually feels. “We are taking him and the Queen away to a safer place away from here. With some of our best doctors at their company.”

Worried, you feel your heart skip a beat. You can feel the sadness running to your head and chest like a wild horse, but the confusion that hits you presses it back down. “How will we deal with this if he is not here?”

The old advisor glances behind over his shoulder, and at the agreeing nods, he turns back to face you. He clears his throat. “The King is unable to attend to his duties presumably for a much longer time than the matter at hand, and the Queen is royal by crown and not by blood. Therefore, she cannot be the next ruler.”

Opening his mouth, he takes a big breath, and gives you the news with a full chest. “Hence why we need you, as our new monarch.”

A wave of high voltage electric rushes over you then within less than a second. His voice being calm, and him speaking the words out trying to ease you into them does not help at all. You feel like your knees will give out but you do not let them, because there is this part in your brain that has somehow already accepted this and is screaming at you to keep your composure. What leaves your mouth, though, is not much the same. “I can- I cannot do that, my education—“

You get cut off with reassuring words. “Your education would have continued until the day you had no chance but to become the monarch, no matter how long it took,” And then with some of encouragement. “Most fruitful practice comes out of the ruling process, and it is very unfortunate that you are in this situation your Highness, but you have trained for this all your life. There is not a person in this room who can do this better than you.”

And you can feel all eyes on you, pitying you and worried for you. Although pitiful, their eyes do have good meanings behind them for the most part, wishing you good luck for both their sake and yours. It is understandable even though it hurts to see it.

Taking another breath, the advisor speaks, holding you tighter between his hands and rubbing them a little to ground you. “I will bring the book now, okay?”

Without a single thought, you nod.

It happens in a blink of your eyes. The advisor moves to the library and everybody stands up from their seats, and those who're standing away come just a bit closer. They still give you the space you need, and Donghyuck pats your shoulder lightly, giving you the most genuine smile he could muster at that moment. And when the senior advisor comes back he holds out the book of constitutional law upright, looks into your eyes seriously, tells you to put a hand on the book and the other in the air, and asks you to repeat the Oath after him. “You can take your time,”

But you do not. You repeat the words after him at the same pace. I vow to protect my people and love them as my own family. I vow to work towards my people’s best interests. I vow to see and listen to them. I vow to see them as my equals no matter the situation and the differences. I vow to never stop working for the betterment of my own, until the day I pass, or until the day I have to step down. I vow to see my place on the throne sacred and important, and I vow to recognize my power and its consequences. And I take the oath, right now and in the witness of my aiders and the people, to serve them as their monarch for the days to come.

Everyone in the room bows and kneels around you, and you take your hand off the book. Just like that you become the monarch and nothing about it is as you imagined, even though you have never imagined it before.

“Your Excellence,” The advisor smiles a soothing smile. The change of honorifics feel unnatural immediately. “I sincerely hope better days are destined for your rule.”

You hope so, too.

There is no time for anything to sink in as the seniors all take you into the small library to have a meeting. They tell you all they know, that a remote number of soldiers still roaming around at least a couple thousand have broken into the palace and the nearby town mostly in civilian outfits, and that there is a number of people that has been taken hostage. Not much damage was done according to them, as in there was not an expectedly big number of people who had lost their lives as these some thousands of soldiers broke their way in. The towns were left in relatively good shape. “I suspect they are here for the palace and your father, your Excellence.” One of the military personnel says, and adds. “Our troops are after the soldiers with all their equipment to take the hostages back. They will be severely outnumbered, so I am positive we will succeed.”

And then, they talk about national security following this night, and the guards who have lost a significant amount of staff. They talk about the upcoming days where you would have to appear in front of your people to address these events and to give your condolences, describing in detail what is being done in the aftermaths of this first-hand attack your people and you have experienced, and what will be done to ensure the security’s, the justice’s, the politics’ and the legislation’s wellbeing, as well as addressing your efforts of the sociopolitical betterment that will inevitably see positive progress if you do the right things.

That is exactly what scares you to no extent. The possibility of not doing the right things at a time like this.

So when they leave, you stay in the library, digging into your most trusted sources of law, security and sociology. You take notes, and read, and take more notes, and think of how you might apply these theoretical things practically, and take notes when the ideas come to discuss with the advisor later, and read— and it becomes a cycle. At one point the landline in the library that you had not noticed its existence of rings, and you get the news that around a dozen of soldiers have gotten captured across the land, one close to the palace who was being interrogated. You work on the documents given to you by the seniors, sometimes calling them in and asking them questions and advice on your notes as they have been specifically at these things for years. You do not recall ever working harder before in so many areas at the same time, and you hate that it is such a thin ice you are walking on. One wrong step and you fall in the icy water, bringing the people you have vowed to protect along with you.

Some things go well. The hostages got released suspiciously early on, before the troops in your rule could get to them. They took the hundreds of hostages back with them for interrogation and to provide them food and water, and if needed, healthcare. Which only meant one thing, really.

This was a dirty work. An attempt at an assassination, most likely targeting specifically your father, and espionage. A wide network of an espionage, and thousands of soldiers had left with whatever information they had. Their targets were you and your family, not the people, even though a good part of them got affected.

It felt incredibly wrong for you to admit it, but you were almost grateful that the palace was the target instead of the people. You would have rather lost information than people, because you were strong, and you knew you could tackle whatever problem was thrown at your way once you got the hang of things.

And since you do not have the luxury of time, you were already getting the hang of things slowly but surely.

After a couple of hours, while you are tackling everything related to law and law in war as they are most important to you for the night, Donghyuck excuses himself in with a knock at the door.

By the way his face looked, you could tell you were going to get bad news.

“Your Majesty,” He starts. But you notice that he cannot find it in himself to look into your eyes. “I have the reports back from the interrogation of one of the captured soldiers.”

He hands you the papers, and you gladly take them. Name, Huang Renjun. Position, Private. Why did they raid? To get information from the archives. For what reason? For the use of the King. Was he involved in the assassination attempt? No, he was not appointed to that purpose. Did he hate your land? No, he did what he had to do. Why did he have to do it? Because he has a mother to look after, and the military pays well enough. Why was he involved in espionage? Because he had done it before. Why was he dressed in uniform? Because he wanted to get back to his mother if he ever got caught and had to serve time in jail, he did not want to take the right away from her— the right to visit him. Why was he shaking? They would not do anything to his mother, right? No, they would not. They are not that type of people. He has been providing useful information and been hopefully truthful until now, could he tell his lieutenant’s name?

Lee Jeno.

Surely it cannot be real.

You look at Donghyuck, and see him looking at you now. “I’m sorry.” Is all he can say.

It is as if someone pours a bucket of boiling hot water down your head, and another bucket of ice cold right after. You feel your heart sink. Disappointed, sad, let down, but what hurts the most is that you do not feel like it does not make sense.

Your hand tightens, squeezing the pen in your hold as the other lifts to rub your temple, both elbows placed on the table for support. Although you want to cry and scream, what leaves your mouth instead is an airy, unhumorous chuckle.

It takes a few seconds for it to kick in. “Take me to him.”

The guard opens his mouth, but you shut him up. “I do not care where and how. Just take me to him.”

Donghyuck comes back to get you in what feels like less than an hour.

When you get out of the small office you had been stuck in for hours, most of the military and security advisors and seniors are nowhere to be seen. They were most probably dealing with the finalization of the reports of the captured soldiers, transferring them to the hands of the judiciary system. The lair, at that point, was more of a place used simply because the palace could not be used still. Duties were still duties and not all of them could be delivered to a few floors underground.

The senior advisor— your senior advisor was about to protest when he saw you walk away with Donghyuck alone, but you simply told him you had to see it for yourself as the reason for your outing. You decline when he offers you more company, saying he could provide you with more guards.

Then, you were out.

But you do not make your way through the palace. It hurts when you notice Donghyuck is taking you through the basement again, even though it makes sense. Nobody knew about the tunnel system still.

You make a note in your mind to change that after today.

Feeling numb in the eerie quiet of the palace, you let Donghyuck lead the way, helping him with the furniture, dropping down the trapdoor, and walking beside him. Neither of you talk. What could he possibly say? What Jeno had done was beyond words.

When you arrive at the end of the tunnels him and his guard are there. Standing in silence. You pick your pace up, unlike the excited and hurried steps you used to take, but angry, disappointed and confronting. Jaemin looks at you before he does, and you see his pitiful look. He does not greet you with the usual nod he does. Jeno looks at you only when you are a couple of big strides away from him, his eyes bright at first, but dimming slowly.

This is the first time you meet him ‘alone’ in early daylight. And frankly, you do not care if somebody finds this place and discovers him at that point.

Taking the last couple of strides, you come to a halt in front of him with a considerable distance between you two. Your chest rises up and down with all the emotions you are feeling and all the thoughts that are racing through your head. With one particularly angry breath, you speak. “Jeno, I have one request from you, and that is for you to tell me my best friend and primary guard is lying and mean it.” At the mention of your guard you had pointed at him with your finger, looking into Jeno’s eyes to find something.

But he does not speak. Because he cannot lie. Because your best friend and guard was, in fact, not lying to you. Because he really was at the lead of all of this. And the guilt, you could see in his eyes that did everything to avoid your intense gaze.

Figures you were not the only one who noticed that, because you hear the sound of Donghyuck’s pistol behind you. You look back at him to see his gun pointed at Jeno, and you hear another one drawn behind you. Namely Jaemin’s, pointed at Donghyuck.

Everything really kicks in then.

Alarmed, you raise your voice. “Nobody is shooting anyone.”

Jeno does nothing. Does not back you up, nor say his independent thought. He just watches, frozen in place, looking at you and yet not looking at you. “Donghyuck, lower your gun down.”

“But—“ You shut him up for the second time within a few hours. “I said, lower your gun down.”

He does, and Jaemin follows suit. You turn back to look at the person standing in front of you.

You do not know who this person is, you cannot tell. Because the Jeno who stands before you is not the one you know. He is not the one you love as well. Because the Jeno you love is someone who has his own pride, feelings, dreams and conscience. Someone who has his own passions. Someone who stands against all the bad and all the evil. He is someone who loves people and who loves you, who is truthful to the people he loves and cares about. And he cares about a lot of people.

But this person in front of you, this Jeno, is not him. This is someone who wanted his father’s acceptance so much that he let it swallow him whole. When, even though he protested he was not, he was someone fully capable of making his own decisions. This is someone who is alright with being used as a puppet for the foreseeable future. This is someone that gave up his personality and dreams just to go with someone else’s. This is someone that did not care if others got hurt because of him. This is someone who is selfish, willfully blind and deaf.

The Jeno standing in front of you was someone you would pity at best. The Jeno that stood in front of you was someone that would be much like his father. Not respected and looked down upon. Oblivious to his doings.

There was so much you wanted for the person that stood in front of you. You desperately wanted him to have a part of himself that recognized the things he had done until this point, whatever he did to you and long before that. You wanted him to experience the aftermath for years to come. To hear the consequences was one thing— they could enter through one ear and immediately come out of the other, as fast as if he had not even heard it. But seeing the consequences would be different. Turning a blind eye every single day would be impossible. You want him to live in the reality of what has happened, and you want some part of him to recognize everything from today on as well.

Looking at his empty eyes, you furrow your brows and sigh. “Most of the soldiers will be handed over once their judiciary process is done. They were caught in uniform.”

You do not even feel like talking to him. It is so disappointing, he is so disappointing; you had such hopes both for the two of you and him. He had his dreams and this person he wanted to grow to be. And nothing about this was what hope entailed for you two. Individually and as a pair, and as people who had huge populations of people dependent on you and following you.

Instead of saying all the things you would like to say to him, you reach for your necklace with a shaky sigh. You take it off, and hold the ring out for him to take.

Jeno obediently opens his hand under yours, and you drop the ring into his palm. You cannot even find it in yourself to close his hand when he fails to do it promptly. Partly because you are scared you are doing the wrong thing and that there is hope for him still, and partly because you knew you would break if you did.

“Leave, Jeno. Take your hand off my rule, my people and my family. Take your men, too.” You take a deep breath and straighten up, looking deep into his eyes that still have sparks somehow.

Not being strong was not an option. “And never come back.”

Jeno nods only once ever so slightly, gulping and closing his palm, putting the necklace into his chest pocket before turning back on his heel and walking out into the bright and silver snowy morning light that surely consumes him whole with his guard on his trail.

It is extremely difficult to watch him walk away. Because the bottled up emotions rush to your chest and the memories rush to your mind, and it hurts when the acknowledgement of the past few years of your life is being thrown into the trash dawns on you. The past genuinely beautiful and happy years of your life where the two of you had taken so many risks, so many things to account, had told so many lies to make everything work. Where you had shared so many laughs, some tears, a lot of secrets- the biggest secret the two of you could possibly ever share, so many kisses and fond words and physical affection. Where you had shared your true love at the expense of living it undercover. Because you had loved each other so purely and so intensely that you could do anything for each other. Still, you believed that what you two had was such an incredible, true, and big thing.

Which was exactly why your heart physically hurt when he disappeared from your sight.

Because you knew who did this was not him, and that the person who disappeared from your personal life for good was not him. The ‘him’ you loved was nowhere to be found in whoever this was; someone who lived according to the strings that were being pulled. Who this person once was, would only live in your memories. And even those, with the start of your healing process, would slowly but surely die down.

So much for an eternity.

The First Vow

After the war everything turned back to normal slowly but surely.

You were becoming better and better at this ruling business you had to attend to, keeping in touch with the communities more in the aftermaths, occupied with duties of all kinds from any branch, meeting people, going on travels for said meetings, seeing beautiful sceneries. There would be new faces at the palace to get acquainted with every once in a while. You would get to go to trips in your own land, visiting farmers and asking about how harvest season was treating them, visiting businesses to see if they could hold up in the fragility of post-war days, visiting families in need to have a chat with them and hear them out, to see if you could do anything for them. More often than not you would be able to provide them care and whatever else it was that they needed. Sometimes you would visit schools and the neighborhoods no one dared to go into, and you would try to help them, too.

Sometimes you would check on the prisons and courts to see how the atmosphere was, and sometimes you would have a brief chat with Renjun on visiting days, updating him on his judiciary situation yourself.

Did the anxiety completely dissipate after what happened? No. Definitely not. The fact that you had gone through espionage on a very big scale was a fact that still stood strong.

But your father was there to aid you with his wisdom. Back on his feet and retired, living at a house far from the palace, your mother and him kept the doors open for you for whenever you had the time or the wish to pay a visit. Him and your mother’s experiences as well as their advice helped you so much during the beginning of your rule where everything felt like you had to learn how to walk again. You were grateful for them and your advisor, who would not comply with your words and just retire because he wanted to help you out as long as he possibly could.

Some things were nice. You were adored by the people, because you had been loyal to the oath you had taken so far. Your full days and duties were keeping your mind off of most things that could bring you down. The palace staff and you seemed to have a close relationship as well, genuinely having fun in your daily life because of your young aura that beamed with energy. Truthfully you were energetic. There was no way you could do what you did if you were not as energetic. You pushed yourself to be happy too, reminded yourself of these things to keep you going.

Yet, some things were bad. There were a lot of things that you could not get no matter how hard you tried, but that was okay, because you were trying no matter what too. The fact that your parents had moved out left you with the reality of living alone in an utterly gigantic space. You would have to eat breakfasts and dinners alone, reading a book while you ate because no one would agree to have a meal with you even though you told them it was okay— except for Donghyuck who would agree to have lunch with you most days. Going to your room would leave a bitter taste inside your mouth. And when you laid down on your bed, sometimes the daydreams of what you could have been come up.

You try to push them away, but sometimes you find yourself breaking down over them anyway.

And then, there are some realities. Like the fact that all these duties, although incredibly helpful at distracting, were growing to be a bit too much for you. The fact that you really needed to share these duties with someone to get some workload off your shoulders. The fact that although wise and helpful, your advisor is growing older and older, and you want him to have a retirement.

The fact that you need another monarch.

It is ridiculous how you deal with it. On one restless night where your mind is flooded with things you need to take care of and the things that are yet to come, you find yourself leaving your bed and your room. Without a drop of sleep in your eyes you walk down the halls and greet the guards silently with a smile on your face, changing the wings of the palace twice to go to the far left end and walking down numerous sets of stairs to get to the room you were looking for.

When you do get to it, you knock only once and excuse yourself in not caring if the guards were staring, finding your guard and best friend on his bed about to pass out. “Why is there such a thing where royals can walk into places without any alert beforehand?”

“I knocked.” He hums at that, and you move to take the seat in the chair at his desk across from his side of the bed. You look at him, who has his arms under his pillow, and think that it is better to pull the bandaid quickly rather than easing it. “Donghyuck.”

“Hm?” You love how he has given up on the honorific in this setting. Usually he would call you by your rather new honorific to get his mouth used to it. “Will you marry me?”

He snickers. “Isn’t that a rather important question to ask me at this hour?” You only smile, so he questions further with his squinted eyes. “Why?”

You shrug. “I need someone to share duties with, and I need someone who will understand me. The only person I can trust is you.”

That makes him smile sleepily, a soft huff of breath leaving his nose, causing his chest to jolt a bit forward. “Well I think I will have to take you up on that.”

“You do not have to,” You whine, a bit annoyed at yourself. “I can hold on for longer. Assign another senior advisor, I don’t know.” But it would not be the same as having someone you could constantly trust. And you needed that, someone who can be there for you whenever you needed them to, as much as you needed another monarch.

You also needed a partner if you were to commit to something so big.

“No, really,” He assures. “I feel honored. I don’t have much of a life outside of my life as your guard already. Which is okay, because I love it. I love that I get to spend so much time with my closest friend despite what they have to do, so when you ask that from me, it feels as something I would only benefit from,” There is a silence before he picks his words back up again, realizing they do not sound the greatest when they are left there. “As a person.”

“It is not that simple,” You warn him as you feel he leaves out some important points. “You will be the King. That is going to take a lot of work, at least a couple of years’ intense education. And all this time you have gotten used to shadowing people. It is a completely different thing to have countless shadows following you with every step you take.”

In all honesty you expect for him to consider it. To retract from his words, and to say that he is in fact not fit to that role because he wants to live a life more free. But he does not. Donghyuck just smiles and buries his face deeper into the pillow, and holds out a hand to you. “I was serious when I said I’ll have to take you up on that. I am willing to do whatever it takes.”

Relief washes over you then. It feels as if almost a big, heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders at the knowledge that you will get to have someone to really help you out with everything and be there for you; someone who you will be willing to do all the same for them. And how fortunate it was that your closest friend would be that someone, because you think you lacked the energy to look out for new people at this point.

You sigh as you place your hand in his, holding onto his fingers when his curl into yours. “Thank you.” You whisper, and feel your hand get tugged towards him before you can feel his lips on your knuckles. “Let’s give these people the most flamboyant royal wedding they will ever witness.”

The two of you share a light laugh that would have surely been louder if it was not for the stupidly late hour this conversation took place in.

And that was it.

You had to remove Donghyuck from his position as your guard when you announced your engagement, getting rings the day after the conversation and breaking the news to the council at an emergency meeting. Thankfully they seemed to be on board with that, and teased the two of you for all the times you disappeared together without much explanation.

It made your heart pang that no, although you had disappeared together you two had not been the lovers. It was for and with someone else. Nonetheless, you were glad that they felt that way, so you made light of the situation by joining in on their laughs.

Donghyuck starts his education immediately after the announcement. It is a nightmarish process almost, seeing him so deep into studies you are far too acquainted with at that point, being reminded of your own struggles trying to learn. Sometimes you would meet him at the library if you had piled up document work to meet and work with him, which would result in him asking you questions about stuff he did not understand when the tutor was not around. Some other times he would nervously laugh at the dinner table (that he could finally join you at) when you would quiz him on things he should have learned, but he would do a great job at that as well, even with his occasional slip-ups.

Donghyuck would make public appearances with you from time to time, and the people would be loving the idea of you and him together. They would tell you how you went so well with each other and how you were so powerful together and they were great compliments, they were, but sometimes they would hurt you deep down even though you had a smile on your face.

In the first year of his education, you get a letter inviting you to a conference held in impartial land. A conference where safety measures and war prevention will be the focus, and one that will be held annually. You agree to it, go alone, see faces (one face in particular) that you do not want to see, and come back.

At a grand meal close to the end of the year with your family and the staff and the council and their own families, someone asks about the wedding plans. That happens to be the exact moment when you realize you do not have plans for your own wedding, and they tell you it is okay before drunkenly jumping from idea to idea on the colors and the venue and whatever else they had to talk about.

Mid-year after that, you slowly start letting Donghyuck in your business. You give him first-hand education, saying these documents should be handled like that and these types of documents should be taken into meetings instead of those ones even though they are basically the same thing, and these reports come from here to go to there, and they go there when you hand them to someone (which sometimes happened to be him in the past) but when you are the one sitting down while doing all your work you call people over like this when you want something to be delivered. And when you file them you can have your own way but one that is preferably neat, I like to do it this way, for example. It becomes an occurrence that grows more and more frequent as time goes by.

Around the cold fall of that year, Donghyuck almost gets done with his education. He had known quite a lot in theory having been with you for a long time and that was probably what helped with him and his pace, and since it came to that, the wedding planning started. Your parents joined in at that as well, and you got to see Donghyuck’s mother and siblings for the first time in years. Which was why you proposed to him the possibility of moving them into a house closer to the palace, or even into the palace that night. Because you knew his relationship with his family was close and sacred to him, and you knew that it had been interrupted by his heavy shifts as a guard and his obligation to stay in the palace. So, you thought it would be convenient for both sides if they lived closer.

Attire fittings for the wedding are always eventful with chitter chatter, some dramatic emotional response from both mothers and fathers as you two stood on platforms with your arms wide open to the sides, the tradition about to-be spouses not seeing each other’s attires until the wedding inapplicable simply because everything has to be perfect at a royal wedding.

Throughout everything, choosing outfits, choosing themes and colors, choosing the venue and sending the invitations, there is always a slight pull at your heart’s strings. The kind of pull where it feels a bit pitiful and hard to breathe. Sometimes your hand lands itself around the area on your chest where your first engagement ring would fall onto, and most times you can stop yourself by saying it is completely unneeded but sometimes you cannot stop it— and sometimes you can see Donghyuck realizing it.

But the hardest is when the wedding day finally comes right after the new year’s, on a bright sunny day without snowfall, which was extremely rare for where you lived. Everything was still and calm outside but not inside, neither inside the venue nor inside your heart and mind.

The reality of getting married gains another dimension when you walk into the venue. At the heart of a town rather far from the palace, the venue does not have the feeling of being far from home with its stone structure, greenery that surrounds it, and its grand scheme. Decorated in royal blue and a bright red that matches the liveliness of the blue, everything looks like how a royal wedding should look. There are golden lights on the walls and dropping from the ceiling that bring the power of the decorations down with their warmness yet somehow also emphasize the importance of everything. The old structure has cracks in which various plants and ivies have made their way in, the sole reason you and Donghyuck had chosen this place. Because you both believed that they symbolized second chances and faith, seeing as these plants had somehow survived the cold and the stones placed on top of the earth, and had been strong enough to crack through and claim this place as their home.

Overall, everything is bright, red and blue and green and golden, and it looks like this is your destiny. And everything including Donghyuck welcomes you, even though there is a road of hurt and imperfection that you still have to walk on.

You are grateful for that feeling.

Yet, suddenly everything feels wrong and out of place when you start the process of getting ready. Not because of Donghyuck and his dear soul that was trying his hardest, but because of yourself. Because your past self that was once in love with a person that did not exist anymore was still looking for a way and time to throw a tantrum about it all. It made sense, somehow, that it was at the most inappropriate moment that it would decide to act up.

The bigger problem is that a lot of people can see how you feel, presumably because you get quieter and inactive. You are extremely distracted from everything that you get so clumsy, tripping all over the place in the old, stone building that had greenery cracking through its a few centuries old material. The people who dress you might as well have been dressing a toy with how nonchalant and flappy your body was.

Despite the obstacles, they get you dressed and taken care of at your room, where you can hear people starting to walk into the venue. At first it is a few greetings between some handfuls of families and people, but it so quickly turns into a sea of undetectable voices that it is almost scary. Everyone sounds excited and happy outside in the hall, and you can hear them dining and conversing on topics that were mostly around you. That was nice after having your name in gossip for quite a long time regarding the espionage and your seemingly amateur ways of ruling, and the ones that suspected a relationship between you and the person you used to love.

Neither side shut the gossips down, but they died down anyways. You had gotten engaged shortly after their surfacing.

At some point people’s voices start to dim down. The wavy ocean turns into a much more still sea with hushed conversations, and it is then that you are able to hear the chants outside.

The happy chants of your people, who had come there to celebrate.

Donghyuck walks in when you get frozen in place, looking at the big, frosted and stained windows as if you could hear the chanting clearer if you did so. From the corner of your eye you see him nod his head slightly to the side and smile, silently ordering people to leave the room to only the two of you.

The ceremony would start soon.

He comes to stand in front of you, and he opens both of his hands, palms looking upright. You look down at them when you notice his moves and let your eyes linger there, not knowing if confidence or hesitance would take over you first.

Not being strong was never an option.

You place your hand in his with a deep exhale, and meet his eyes. Donghyuck smiles at you, as if to say it is alright. It will be okay.

And then he speaks.

“I know I am not the one you would have liked to have here today,” He starts, and that hurts you perhaps with the truth but also with your newfound care for him upon getting engaged, but he does not let you protest. “But I have once sworn to protect you with my life, and I just want you to know that I will continue on with it. And I swear to you— forget the Oath I will take in a matter of minutes now, I swear to you that I will try to be the best I can be for you, for us, for whatever that means from now on, and for our people.”

You smile at him with your first genuine smile of the day when a fresh comfort washes over your heart the same way an angry and fizzy ocean wave washes over the shore, and give his hands a squeeze, holding onto the hopeful future they offer. Thank you.

[sz-amare]

5. Importance of a Character’s Dreams and Motivations

One thing in common with almost all shōnen protagonists are their dreams and their motivations for chasing them. I think this is one of the most important aspects of a character. It helps them feel more three-dimensional and realistic. It is hard to make a great character with no dream or motivation, but it can be pulled off, as shown in Nux Taku’s video on The Genius of Villains without Motives.

 Anyway, to understand and love a character, it is important to grasp an idea of what makes them tick. Here I will provide a couple of examples of characters with ambitious and idealistic goals backed up by a great and understandable motivation. I will also provide an example where a character’s motivation doesn’t feel convincing, and therefore, doesn’t draw as much emotion or commitment to the characters.

Luffy is one of the greatest shōnen protagonists and is my favorite character in anime. His dream is to become the Pirate King. Even though he is a fictional character, we somehow have a deep connection with Luffy.

Oda has managed to portray Luffy as a great man in the series. I don’t think it is merely because he is strong or because he follows his principles, but rather, we can actually feel that only Luffy can be the Pirate King. I believe we feel this way because we see the Pirate King’s title fitting perfectly with Luffy’s character. But to better understand his motivations and character, we need to look to his past.

Luffy is significantly inspired by Shanks, greatly appreciating Shanks’ freedom and the principles he follows. Luffy also has a large amount of respect for his older brother. Sabo decided to sail the seas without money or power, trying to escape the nobility life that imprisoned him. But his journey ended before it had a chance to start due to the Celestial Dragon shooting down his little boat. Here we can see two of the people Luffy respected the most chased their own freedom, and the only thing that opposed that freedom is the world government

Luffy also wants to chase that freedom, but he can’t since the world government is preventing him from chasing that dream. However, Luffy had made this connection that pirates are the freest people on earth; they get to do whatever they wanted with no consequences as long as their strength can back it up. They were also considered enemies of the world government, the very thing Luffy despises. Luffy didn’t only aspire to be like Shanks and Sabo; he didn’t only want to be a simple pirate; he didn’t only seek freedom; he wanted to be the freest man in the entire world while respecting others and following basic morals. If pirates were free and the Pirate King was the greatest pirate, the Pirate King must be the world’s freest man. Therefore, Luffy decided to peruse this freedom by becoming the Pirate King.

Another great example is illustrated with Naruto and Asta. They have very similar dreams of being the most powerful and respected man in their respective country. But, their motivations differ from each other. Their aspirations play a perfect part in their characters and their pasts. Naruto was considered the “devil child” since he was possessed by the Nine-Tails Fox, the deity that once terrorized his entire village. The Fox was to be feared and very dangerous. So the whole village discriminated against him, terrified of him attacking the village at any moment. 

He had no friends, and on top of that, Naruto’s parents died when the Fox was trapped in his body. He wasn’t just discriminated against; he was lonely and wanted respect. Naruto realized that the Hokage is the most respected person in the entire country. So, he aspired to be the Hokage; Naruto just wanted respect and acceptance.

Asta was a commoner with no magic. That’s an absurd thing to think about, simply because there isn’t a single person in the Black Clover world who has no magic. In the world of Black Clover, there are different levels of magic ability: the nobles having the most magic, the middle class having an average amount, and commoners having little to no magic. But Asta has no magic. This means that he is not only disrespected by the nobles and middle class but also by other commoners. Asta wants to prove that with no special abilities, he can be the Wizard King, the most powerful mage in the kingdom. If he accomplishes this, he can prove that even commoners can reach such high standards. With this, he can strive for equality.

All these examples are brilliant. Each example follows on their pasts and makes sense of why they have such high aspirations. Luffy’s goal is to be the Pirate King, and his motivation is freedom. Naruto’s goal is to be the Hokage, and his motivation is respect and acceptance. Asta’s goal is to be the Wizard King, and his motivation is equality and recognition. All of their pasts put them in a situation where their motivation makes sense. This allows us to sympathize with them, understanding them on a different level.

But there are a couple of characters whose motivation I find a bit bland. The biggest offender of this is Itadori Yuji from Jujutsu Kasien. His dream is to become a very strong individual in order to help others. His motivation? His grandfather’s last words.

Now I understand that Itadori had a very close relationship with his grandfather and that his love for him alone is good enough motivation to follow his dream. But first off, it doesn’t even feel like it is Itadori’s dream. He seems to be following someone else desire. If maybe this was something that was ingrained in Itadori’s mind as a child, and we got to see it, his dream would feel a lot more like his own. His motivation would also make more sense. As an example, my parents have always told me to be kind to others, but now it feels more like it’s my own principle, not theirs. I don’t get that same feeling from Itadori’s grandfather’s motivation. Secondly, we don’t even understand Itadori’s connection to his grandfather. If we had a couple of episodes dedicated to showing us their bond and relationship, this would be a different matter. Now, every time I hear Itadori talk about others and how he couldn’t save someone, I end up staring at the screen with a blank face and saying, “Okay…”

To me, his dream is to be strong so that he can help others (I think) and his motivation is his grandfather’s final words which felt nothing short of dumb and ridiculous. We don’t even get to see his past and fully understand if this is something that Itadori always believed. Jujutsu Kaisen only aired 16 episodes and still has time to unfold, so I can understand if there is something that is yet to develop. But so far, Itadori, along with his dreams and motivations, suck.

In my book series, I want to make each character have convincing and understandable dreams and motivations, and I hope to make it similar to Luffy’s, Naruto’s, and Asta’s. You should be careful when making characters.  Having their motivations fall flat can really turn off an audience. I hope to create realistic-feeling characters with dreams and motivations that seem to align perfectly with their character.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the “Ask Me Anything” tab on my Tumblr page.

[agentrouka-blog]

What changed the finale of GOT? What makes Westeros a better place? We see Bran pulling a full Robert and not bothering to even going to his smallcouncil meetings. Leaving Tyrion as a Jon Arryn of sorts. Nothing changed from the pillot. Part 1.

Furthermore the script says that a better future awaits Westeros because Sam, Davis and Brienne are better people. Wasn't Martin the one who criricized Tolkienn for his medieval filosophy of good man=good ruler. Where is the Aragorn tax police here? Brothels? So they are good people and Westeros is gonna be well. Part 2

It reads like Jaehaerys smallcouncil with good people such as Septon Barth or ser Rryam Redwyne. But as they died they were replaced by the likes of ser Otto Hightower and ser Cryston Cole. What stops Brienne or Sam succesor from being luke these men? What stops in the next royal election a person like Alejandro Borgia from being elected? What are the countermeasures of the new system?part 3.

Martin said that the Targ flaw was building the system on dragonpower and that the smallcouncil was never a countermeasure of this. So what does the finale of thhe series accomplish on the mark Martin story? What has changed for the better in Westeros? Why does it feels like we are back politically in the pilot. Does Martin or D&D think that some "elections" magiccally fix everything and makes a better world? That's the thinking of a kid? What does the finale accomplish?

Oh dear. Where to start? Oh yes: You are absolutely right.

Honestly, I think politically, the finale has only a vague resemblance to the book ending. I would not lay this on Martin’s feet. I mean, what is he going to say in interviews “Actually, they left out all the good parts and delivered a stupid version of half the ending. The real ending goes as follows…” Hardly. 

He said 

How will it all end? I hear people asking. The same ending as the show?  Different?

Well… yes.  And no.  And yes.   And no.   And yes.   And no.   And yes.

It’s, at best, a partial ending. Most likely, a fraction. How can you resolve an issue you never introduce in the first place?

They already left out much of the physical misery the books prepare us for: starvation, sweeping illness, the roaving displaced, the siege situation around King’s Landing that may prompt political compromise. The political finagling that would lead to a Big Council in the first place. They reduced the fate of Westeros to the presence of a handful of Lords and Ladies at a meeting in a Dragon Pit. It’s condensed beyond recognition.So, yeah, politically, the finale of the tv show makes absolutely zero sense. I understand your frustration.

They will all need each other to survive the winter, most likely, but at the same time, you can’t change a feudal system over night. Maybe just replacing the central power of the Iron Throne with something multifaceted would be useful. Maybe the council could be more permanent? Who knows?? I’m not too invested in predicting it. But it is likely to make sense. GRRM has built his story around knowing the ending. It will not be stupid.

We know Catelyn suggested the Great Council all the way back in ACOK. It’s mentioned three times in the ASOIAF books, and tons more in the accompanying literature.

Jon was not entirely innocent of the history of the realm; his own maester had seen to that. “That was the year of the Great Council,” he said. “The lords passed over Prince Aerion’s infant son and Prince Daeron’s daughter and gave the crown to Aegon.” “Yes and no. First they offered it, quietly, to Aemon. And quietly he refused. The gods meant for him to serve, not to rule, he told them. He had sworn a vow and would not break it, though the High Septon himself offered to absolve him. Well, no sane man wanted any blood of Aerion’s on the throne, and Daeron’s girl was a lackwit besides being female, so they had no choice but to turn to Aemon’s younger brother—Aegon, the Fifth of His Name. Aegon the Unlikely, they called him, born the fourth son of a fourth son. Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother’s rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall. And here he has remained, while his brother and his brother’s son and his son each reigned and died in turn, until Jaime Lannister put an end to the line of the Dragonkings.” (ACOK, Jon)

Not sure it will go down quite like this. The dynamics are different. But Jon wouldn’t be happy on the Iron Throne. He wants to frolick in the northern Snows with a Lady wife and plentiful babies.

“Robb will set aside his crown if you and your brother will do the same,” she said,hoping it was true. She would make it true if she must; Robb would listen to her, even if his lords would not. “Let the three of you call for a Great Council, such as the realm has not seen for a hundred years. We will send to Winterfell, so Bran may tell his tale and all men may know the Lannisters for the true usurpers. Let the assembled lords of the Seven Kingdoms choose who shall rule them.” Renly laughed. “Tell me, my lady, do direwolves vote on who should lead the pack?” Brienne brought the king’s gauntlets and greathelm, crowned with golden antlers that would add a foot and a half to his height. “The time for talk is done. Now we see who is stronger.” Renly pulled a lobstered green-and-gold gauntlet over his left hand, while Brienne knelt to buckle on his belt, heavy with the weight of longsword and dagger. “I beg you in the name of the Mother,” Catelyn began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. (ACOK, Catelyn)

When more women have a say, things will go down a bit better, yes? Yara, Arianne, Meera, ..?

Jon was tired. I need sleep. He had been up half the night poring over maps, writing letters, and making plans with Maester Aemon. Even after stumbling into his narrow bed, rest had not come easily. He knew what he would face today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on Maester Aemon’s final words. “Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel,” the old man had said, “the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” The old man felt Jon’s face. “You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” (ADWD, Jon)

I know we all love Maester Aemon, but I actually think he was full of manure. Don’t kill the boy. Dare to dream. If it goes down in a similar way, Jon will not be giving Bran that same advice.

My own personal favorite idea is, indeed, a permanent Great Council of several independent kinddoms and regions.

To resolve the matter of his heir once and for all, Jaehaerys called the first Great Council in the year 101 AC, to put the matter before the lords of the realm. And from all corners of the realm the lords came. No castle could hold so many save for Harrenhal, so it was there that they gathered. The lords, great and small, came with their trains of bannermen, knights, squires, grooms, and servants. And behind them came yet more—the camp followers and washerwomen, the hawkers and smiths and carters. Thousands of tents sprang up over the moons, until the castle town of Harrenton was accounted the fourth largest city of the Realm. (The World of Ice and Fire: The Targaeryen Kings: Jaeharys I) 

Wouldn’t that be the sweetest irony? If the true ending to the Targaryen kingship led to a permanent council set up in the very geographic center of Westeros by the God’s Eye, making use of the castle that was just finished and doomed when Aegon started conquering Westeros? WHY have we spent so much time in that ruin if it is not meant to serve a purpose in the future? For a sort of parliament?

Let’s let King’s Landing become a port city, if it is to be rebuilt. Let the seat of power become something entirely new. I would love that. 

[ridiasfangirlings]

AU where Yata is Mikoto's kid?

Are we talking raised by Mikoto or just with Mikoto as his dad? Actually the latter could be kinda interesting, like imagine AU where we fiddle with the ages a bit and say Yata's mom had Yata at a young age and Mikoto was his real father. Mikoto knows about the kid but never really tried to be in his life much at the request of Yata's mom, she was embarrassed having a son when she was so young and unmarried and thought having Mikoto around would be more of a burden than it needed to be. Plus even before Mikoto was a King he was still known as something of a delinquent and Yata's mom thought that if everyone were to know about his son then Yata could become a target. Yata sees Mikoto every now and again even after his mom remarries but it isn't often and he only has this vague image of his dad as someone who's kinda cool but largely absent, and maybe as a small child he dreams a lot about Mikoto swooping in like a hero to save him and really become his father and bring his family together.

Then in middle school Yata meets Fushimi and everything goes like in canon until the time they run into Homra in the city. Yata immediately recognizes Mikoto as his dad and he starts to say something when Mikoto throws the bottle and burns it, that's enough to shock Yata quiet as he stares because suddenly it's like his dad really is a hero. When Fushimi starts studying about the 'Red Monster' Yata knows that this is his dad but he doesn't say anything, it's not so much that he wants to keep it a secret as he doesn't really know how to say it – he can't remember the last time Mikoto checked in on him and he doesn't even know if Mikoto was aware of who Yata was when they met in the city that time. It's not until the surprise party that Yata really gets to finally be close to Mikoto, imagine after Yata and Fushimi are rescued Totsuka wonders who these kids are and Yata looks up at Mikoto, trying to find his voice and probably worrying that maybe he really has been forgotten. That's when Mikoto sighs and is like 'that's my kid' and just about everyone present is like wait what.

Yata would probably then be something of a minor celebrity in Homra, like word gets around quick that he's Mikoto's kid and of course that gives him a lot of trust and clout in the clan right away. Unfortunately I could see this impacting his relationship with Fushimi quite a lot though, Yata being even more respected than him right from the start along with this feeling like Yata lied to him by not admitting earlier that Mikoto's his dad. I think Yata would try to explain his reasoning there but it would be hard for him, he's not the best with words and either way it's hard for Yata himself to grasp the real reason why he didn't speak up. I think he'd apologize for not saying anything and consider the matter settled, while Fushimi is still quietly stewing about it and not saying anything. Plus for Fushimi it's like double the blow that not only is he afraid of Mikoto he's afraid of Misaki's father (and it's not like Fushimi's own father issues are going to help in this matter, if anything it makes everything worse) and it's like to Fushimi of course when the time comes that everyone realizes he's not suited for Homra Yata will abandon him because how could Yata ever choose Fushimi over his own father.

I think Yata's hero worship of Mikoto might be stronger here too, or at least I could see him trying really hard to be useful in Homra and get Mikoto's recognition as a way of like making up for all those years that Mikoto never really visited or anything. Yata's always secretly wanted approval from his father and now being in the same clan with Mikoto as his King it's like a dream come true to Yata, his dad is here with him and they can talk together and spend time together and Yata wants to show that he's grown up to be a strong and reliable person. I think though along with that it would probably hit him harder when Mikoto dies, because not only has he lost his dad but it's like Yata alone wasn't enough to convince Mikoto to stay, like maybe Yata was never as important as Totsuka (and I do think Mikoto would regret it in that sense, like he never wanted to abandon Yata and he does want the kid to grow up happy but he also feels like this is the only way out and maybe Anna's not the only one he apologizes to when Munakata's sword finds its mark).

[dreamcity-rawr]

demon!nctdream

   in which nct dream are the demons of the 7 deadly sins you happen to meet

Mark Lee: pride.

a wholeass demon king. he prides himself for the power he holds as a demon in a human world and isn’t even humble about his supernatural strength and intelligence. he sees himself as superior to human beings, often times viewing them as useless. quite self-centric in that sense. but you, he couldn’t help but admire and respect. there is something about you that makes you a goddess to him and truly, you’re the only person he allows to stomp over his ego, he’d send anyone else down to hell in a second. he holds you so dear. you’ve had a hard time with how entitled his demon self is, but through observing him, it’s makes sense that he’s so prideful. he deserves that much recognition for what he’s achieved all on his own.     “I’d love to take you back to where I’m from and marry you someday but…the queen title doesn’t give you enough credit” “Mark, I just thought it’d be nice to meet your parents,… not to become a queen….”

 Huang Renjun: wrath.

hates everyone and doesn’t even hide it. although most of his hatred comes in form of glares or insults, he’s actually quite violent as well. and his demonic strength makes his anger even more dangerous than it already is. doesn’t hold back at all, instead, lets anger take whole control of him, so he ends up destroying things and hurting people. he had wiped off a whole section of hell once just out of anger, thereby others cower in fear in front of him. but he wonders why you don’t mind how overly rough he is. you’re always so patient and understanding with him. and he loves that you somehow always manage to calm down the demon in him although it makes him a little vulnerable. “I could just headlock you and smother you with kisses and hugs right now until you can’t even breathe” “That’s….a very interesting way to put it. Um,… I love you, too, babe”

 Lee Jeno: sloth.

quite the lazy ruler. with the power he has, he’ll just snap his fingers and have other people do things for him. doesn’t really bother doing anything that requires too much effort but others can’t complain about it because they’re scared of him. a demon who loves leisure is a demon who kills anyone who takes it away from him. so, wake him up from his nap and you’ll be napping for the rest of your life. But when you once woke him up, he didn’t really snap at you. something about the way your hoodie looked so warm and cozy made him pull you down with him, hugging you until he fell back asleep. from then on, he’d always come looking for you and demand you to help him sleep because you did it very well. a lot of times, he’d just be playing video games while you sit in his lap, nuzzled in his chest so he has where to slung his arms around. “I’ve had slaves feed and fan me….but none of them ever received such privilege as you, kitten” “I’m sweating like crazy from the seven-hour cuddle with no aircon, Jeno. What kind of privilege is this?”

 Lee Donghyuck: envy.

he has always been a jealous kind of demon boyfriend. you enjoy seeing his jealous and possessive side from time to time but you start to realize he’s always jealous over the smallest of things. his eyes turn green when he’s envious, which happens a lot. he refuses to stand still when someone else approaches you, he send them straight down to hell, never to be seen again. because of that, you got into many arguments of privacy and freedom, which would end up with yall “breaking up”. but he can’t stand being away from you so he’d be coming back, apologizing. he’d appear in your bedroom at midnight, just to rip the plushies from your arms and place himself in instead and sleep, kissing you all over while whispering how much he loves you. it makes you melt, tbh.  “this is the dungeon of hell, where I punish sinners that dare touch you and-” “hyuck, what the hell are my plushies and pets doing down here?!”

Na Jaemin: lust.

always so affectionate with you, peppering you with kisses and smothering you in hugs. he could never really keep his hands off you. but a lot of times, it’d get out of hand and that’s when his demon takes over, barely containing his sinful desires. his eyes turn red while staring down at you, breathing heavily just because you show a little more skin than usual and it drives him crazy. all these dark thoughts invade his mind but he fights to not take you then and there, he can’t bring to do that to you even though he’s never held back with his past lovers. It’s because you’re the only person he’s ever truly loved and you’re precious for him to ruin. he’s swore to wait until you feel ready. the farthest it has really gone is your whole neck covered in purple hickeys that one time you wore a strapless dress, which he has constantly apologized to you for. “This math equation is so confusing, damn it” “Baby, please….don’t bite your lip like that. It drives me insane, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back next time”

Zhong Chenle: greed.

he is already a demon on a throne who has everything in his reach. yet it’s not enough for him. hell is not enough for him. that’s why he comes to earth, observing it before planning to conquer it. and he truly can, he’s just that capable. but his desire of the whole world fades away the minute he encounters you, helping him get rid of a roach. from then on, he decides, he has to have you before the world because you’re the most precious and powerful human being. and so he does. he peppers you with anything you’ve ever dreamed of having and although it makes you feel great, it’s actually the way he treats you that makes you fall for him. the demon in him seeps through his constant want to make the world’s wealth his but his weakness is not having you, his sense of the whole world. “If I Disney Land, should I name it LeLe land or Dolphin la-” “Babe, I love you but…it’s 2am, can’t we just go back to sleep?”  

Park Jisung: gluttony.

tough and fierce. rarely ever shows any emotions, which paints him as a very mysterious kind of demon. opposite from his calmness is his excitement for food. as someone that is young and growing, he eats a lot. it’s his passion. he is a demon who devours food of all sorts. the rarer the better. loves food even more than people and he’ll go to lengths just in order to taste something, even if it was killing to eat, demons could afterall devour human as well if they wanted to. and somehow, he finds himself interested in you, who doesn’t eat too often. and when you do, you eat the simplest of foods. It drove him mad how a person could have so little appreciation towards food and he makes it his goal to change your mind. somehow midway he grows very fond of you, so fond he has to remind himself you’re human, not food. the only human he ever likes more than food.   “If you were food, I’d definitely saviour you for last….like dessert, you’d be the sweet sweet kind~” “A-Are you really sure demons don’t eat human? You’re making me feel a little unsafe right now”

   author’s note    thank you so much for reading and sending in requests!!! I wasn’t very sure whether to go really dark on this or to go more light-hearted and soft/comedy way. so i decided on the latter as it fir the dreamies more.and when thinking about demons, 7 deadly sins was the first thing that popped to my mind and dreamies have 7 members soooo....yea.  ♥️ I love you  ♥️