#star palace banquet hall

[betterhalfai]

The Star Palace of Bengaluru is adept at fulfilling all types of requirements for party arrangements and get-togethers. They have the most humble staff and their skills in serving the clients are incomparable. The hotel has both veg and non-veg cuisines prepared by the most talented chefs worldwide. You can try this place if you are residing in Kasavanahalli or a nearby area for the best ever experience.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [Teaser]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

A/N: Credits to @sundaybossanova for contributing the main idea of Mingi's spinoff. I might have changed most of the proposed plot, but the MC's identity as a physician and how the two first meet remains Sunny's idea.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Ooh, guess who's here again," your colleague remarked, nodding toward the entrance of the royal medical hall where a certain tall, handsome military strategist strode in for what felt like the thousandth time this week. You sighed, refusing to look up from your book. "Please tell me it's not him."

She gulped, watching him approach. "Hate to break it to you, but it is your not-so-secret admirer, General Officer Song."

"Good afternoon, ladies. I, uh… I'm here today because—" his familiar deep voice rang out as he paused at a respectful distance.

Clearing your throat, you finally closed your book and turned to face him with a courteous smile, finishing his sentence for him, "Good afternoon to you too, Officer Song. Let me guess, you're here because you got hurt during training again?"

Instead of the usual sheepish nod, he shook his head and nervously fiddled with his fingers. "No, actually… I came to ask if… i-if you would like to accompany me to the royal banquet celebrating Joseon's unity with Ruhon tonight, Royal Physician Ahn?"

You froze at his question, and your colleague mirrored your reaction. The two of you exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process the fact that this fool was openly pursuing you, a woman working in the palace, someone who belonged to the King.

Does he realise what he's doing?

You're probably wondering why I'm posting this on a Wednesday (depending on where you are) but it's a public holiday here today in Malaysia, so surprise!! It's finally Princess Mingi's turn! The way y'all thought his spinoff would be the first and here he is HAHA

In case you're confused and are not sure what I mean by MC belonging to the King, please read ✨this✨

As always, I'll do my best to get the first part out as soon as I can! Let me know your thoughts on the concept! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[petalsthefish]

All The Kings Men

After Prince James is cursed by the evil Lord Voldemort, Lily searches for ways to save him. A Sleeping Beauty Jily Role Reversal Re-telling. Day #20 of the jilytober song shuffle prompts with: "All The Kings Men" by The Rigs READ ON A03

In a kingdom veiled in sunlight, there was a girl as wild as the fire she carried within—Lily Evans. The daughter of the Captain of the Guard, she was as untamed as the horses she often stole from the royal stables and as free as the wind that swept across the cliffs beyond the castle. Wherever she went, Prince James Potter followed, his laughter always trailing just behind hers. A prince, but more than that, a boy whose heart had long belonged to the reckless girl who ruled his world with chaos and fire.

Lily was trouble—not the gentle, mischievous kind, but a force of nature that left disorder in her wake. She and James didn’t just defy the palace’s rules; they shattered them. From midnight raids on the kitchens to scaling the highest towers and hanging banners adorned with crude stick-figure drawings, they were rebels in a court that demanded less. Together, they created more, a secret kingdom of love and laughter, far from the watchful eyes of courtiers and kings.

But on this autumn afternoon, as the world turned gold beneath the kiss of the dying sun, something was different. The crispness in the air whispered of change, of a future neither of them wanted to face. They sat perched in the royal orchards, high among the branches—James lounging on a thick limb, an apple forgotten in his hand, while Lily hung from the branch above him, her fiery hair brushing his cheeks. Her laughter, sharp and free, echoed through the trees, a song even the birds stopped to listen too.

"I can't imagine calling you 'King' James," she hummed, "can you imagine me saying it?"

"I don’t want it," James muttered, his voice low, the apple slipping from his grasp. His hazel eyes, so often full of mischief, were distant, tracing the jagged line of mountains far beyond the castle walls. "I don’t want to be king, Lily. Not if it means losing this—losing us. I’d rather ride into the wilds with you, sleep beneath the stars, where no one expects anything from me."

Lily swung herself upright, her emerald gaze sharp as it locked onto his, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "A reluctant king who’d rather be a rogue? That’s rich, James." She nudged him with her boot, but her voice softened, betraying something deeper beneath her jest. "But I understand. You’re not the only one shackled, some of us have to be ladies."

She didn’t need to say more—he saw it in the way her eyes flickered toward the castle far below, where the court awaited her with its gowns and ballrooms, finishing schools and chains of propriety. They wanted to shape her into something delicate, something that would never fit the wild soul who raced horses and climbed trees. Each time she donned those silken gowns, a piece of her freedom crumbled, as if the wild, fierce girl James knew was slipping further away.

And he saw it—saw her. The girl who ruled the stables and the orchards with a wicked grin, who faced down the palace guards with nothing but fire in her veins—that Lily was fading. And it scared him more than any crown, any throne.

At first, she didn’t notice how his gaze lingered too long when she wore those gowns, or how his easy laughter softened into something quieter, something almost vulnerable. But when she caught him staring across the banquet hall, his hazel eyes darkened with emotions he never spoke aloud, her heart clenched. This wasn’t the teasing look of a boy toward his best friend—it was something far more dangerous.

It was love, and they were both cursed to someone else. 

Now, in the soft light of the setting sun, James looked at her with that same quiet intensity, the silence between them stretching like a thread about to snap. The world was shifting outside their orchard, and they both knew they couldn’t outrun it forever.

“Lily,” James whispered, his voice barely a breath, trembling with uncertainty. “What if we didn’t do it? What if we ran? Right now. No throne, no court, no ballrooms. Just us. We could be free.”

Her breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against her heart, against the fragile future they had both been avoiding. The thought of leaving it all behind—the duty, the expectations—was intoxicating. But the world beyond their wild kingdom wasn’t so kind, and they both knew it.

“You know we can’t.” Was her well-thought response. 

Still, for a brief, heart-stopping moment, she let herself imagine it. A life where they weren’t bound by the chains of duty. A world where they were simply Lily and James, free to race the wind beneath an endless sky. Free to be together. 

But the court had other plans, ones that made her blood burn with anger. James’s seventeenth birthday loomed, and with it, the court’s expectations. He was to leave, journey to a neighboring kingdom, and meet the princess they had chosen for him—his future bride. A girl handpicked for political alliances, with royal blood and the cold calculation of a council that cared nothing for the boy who would one day wear the crown.

The thought of him with someone else—someone polished and perfect, chosen by strangers—made her want to scream.

She had spent too many sleepless nights staring at her ceiling, the ache in her chest growing sharper as the day James would leave her loomed closer. But it wasn’t just the fear of losing him to another that gnawed at her. It was the fear of losing him entirely—the boy who laughed too loud, who pulled her into mischief, who belonged in the world with her, not trapped in the gilded throne room.

They didn’t speak of it, but the weight of their impending separation hung between them, heavy as smoke, choking the air.

And then everything changed.

It happened during one of the royal feasts—extravagant, tedious affairs that Lily despised, though she had no choice but to attend. This particular banquet was worse than usual. A delegation from a neighboring kingdom had arrived, bringing with them a wizard of notorious arrogance, a man whose pride filled the hall like a suffocating fog. Lord Voldemort, as he called himself, was infamous for holding grudges and commanding fear wherever he went, and from the moment he entered the feast, his presence cast a pall over the room.

Lily had been doing her best to avoid the pomp and pretense, standing by the punch bowl, her laughter bright and genuine as she chatted with James. He had been making a sarcastic comment about how the stuffed pigeons decorating the banquet table looked as if they were on the verge of exploding. She couldn’t help but laugh at his dry wit, the sound of her amusement carrying through the hall. It was one of those moments that made the dreary event almost bearable.

But then, in the middle of their banter, Lily accidentally stepped back—right onto Lord Voldemort’s foot.

“I’m so sorry,” she said immediately, her laughter fading as she turned to face the man. His presence was oppressive, his face pale and snake-like, with a nose so flat it was almost non-existent. She tried to explain, “I didn’t see you there, I was—”

“Watch where you’re going, you bumbling peasant,” the wizard snapped.

Lily froze, her apology caught in her throat. The insult stung, but before she could say another word, James was already stepping forward, his expression hardening in a way Lily hadn’t seen in a long time. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, were sharp now, blazing with something far more dangerous.

“Mind your tone,” James said, his voice steady but laced with a warning. He placed himself slightly in front of Lily, his posture defensive, protective. “She apologized. You could try some manners for a change.”

Voldemort sneered, his dark eyes narrowing. “Manners? From the likes of her? She should be more careful in the presence of her betters.”

Lily flinched at the cruel words, but before she could react, James was already moving. His usual reckless energy shifted into something far more intense, more deliberate. He stepped closer to Voldemort, his voice low and biting. “There’s no one in this hall who's better, least of all you. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”

The tension between them crackled. James, ever the reckless prince, didn’t back down, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his hazel eyes flashing with defiance. It was one thing to insult him—James could brush off nearly any slight with a grin and a clever retort. 

But to insult Lily? 

That was unforgivable.

Lily placed a hand on James’ arm, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated further. “James, it’s fine, really,” she whispered, though her heart swelled at his unwavering defense of her.

But James wasn’t finished. He’d already taken an instant dislike to the wizard, and now that dislike was searing into something more. The man’s arrogance, the way his presence commanded the room with fear, grated against James’ very nature. And the way he had spoken to Lily—it lit a fire in James that couldn’t be easily extinguished.

The moment Voldemort’s sweeping robes brushed against the table, knocking over a bowl of pea soup that splattered onto his stately robes, the prince’s lips curled into a grin, one that was far from friendly. The room had already fallen into an uneasy silence, the courtiers sensing the brewing conflict. James’s shoes were partially covered, but Lily watched as he kicked the bowl so it splattered along the backside of Lord Vodemort’s robes purposely. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” James said, his voice dripping with exaggerated politeness, the mockery in his tone impossible to miss. “I like hot soup.” 

“You foolish boy!” Voldemort’s pale face darkened, his long fingers twitching toward his wand as he looked down at the mess. “It’s ruined my robes!” he said dramatically, his voice oozing with disdain.

James raised an eyebrow, the dangerous glint in his hazel eyes sharpening. “Let me help you with that, Lord Moldy-mort,” he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a grin that could only be described as audacious.

The hall went deathly still. Courtiers exchanged wide-eyed glances, some stifling nervous laughter, others holding their breath. Everyone knew the wizard was dangerous, his temper legendary. But James Potter had never been one to hold his tongue, and certainly not when someone insulted the people he cared about.

Voldemort’s face turned a livid shade of purple, his pride wounded beyond repair. His hand gripped his wand tightly, and for a moment, it looked as if he might lash out in front of the entire court. But James didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his smile never faltering, his body a shield between Voldemort’s venomous gaze and Lily.

“Careful, little Prince,” Voldemort hissed, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t know who you’re toying with.”

James tilted his head, his grin never wavering. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Lily’s heart raced as she watched the exchange, fear creeping up her spine, though she’d never say it out loud. But beneath the fear was something else—something fiercer. The way James stood there, unyielding, ready to defend her without a second thought, made her chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. He wasn’t just standing up to Voldemort for the sake of a joke or some reckless impulse. 

He was standing up for her.

And in that moment, she knew.

Voldemort’s eyes flicked from James to Lily, his sneer deepening. “You’ll regret this, boy,” he spat, before sweeping away from the table in a whirl of dark robes, leaving the hall in tense, uneasy silence.

As soon as the wizard was gone, the tension broke like a dam, the courtiers whispering amongst themselves, some in disbelief, others in admiration of James’ boldness. But Lily could only focus on the boy in front of her, her heart still pounding.

“James…” she began, her voice soft, unsure of what to say.

He turned to her, his expression softening as his hand found hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a silent gesture of comfort. “You alright?”

She nodded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

James shrugged. “Course I did. No one talks to you like that.”

Lily felt a warmth spread through her, her heart full. James had always been her partner in chaos, her partner in everything. But in moments like this, when he stood between her and the world, she realized just how much more he was. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice catching.

James squeezed her hand gently, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Anytime, Lily. Now, let’s get out of here before Princess Mary tries to hunt me down.”

But the lingering unease in the pit of her stomach refused to fade.

Days later, while sparring in the training yard, James pricked his finger on a blade that should have been ordinary. The moment the metal touched his skin, he collapsed, his body crumpling to the ground. Panic swept through the castle, Sirius Black shouting for help as physicians and wizards were summoned, their magic and remedies useless. No one could wake the prince.

James had fallen into an unnatural sleep, cursed—everyone knew—by the wizard whose pride he had wounded.

Lily’s world shattered in that moment. She had always known there would be a day when James would be pulled away from her, bound by duty to a crown she despised. 

But not like this. 

Not so suddenly. 

Not with so much left unsaid between them.

She had rushed to his chambers, heart pounding, disbelief clawing at her throat as she stood over his still body. She had shaken him, called his name over and over until her voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks as she begged him to wake. But James lay silent, his face serene, as though simply asleep. The lively spark of his hazel eyes was gone, and with it, her world.

All the king’s men, and all their horses, couldn’t find a way to save him.

Weeks bled into months, and hope drained from the kingdom. The people whispered of James as though he were already lost. Lily could hear the courtiers murmur about the next heir, the rumors of who might take the throne if James never woke. It was as though the world had already moved on without him, as though he was a ghost in his own palace.

And in that time, the pressure mounted on Lily. Her father, the Captain of the Guard, had sat her down one evening, his eyes heavy with both sorrow and duty. “You have to think about your place, Lily,” he’d said, his voice quiet yet firm. “The world keeps turning, even when we lose the ones we love. You’re getting older, it’s time to marry, and the Prince is not yours to marry–not anyone’s at this moment.”

But how could she think of courtly duties, of finding her place, when the boy who was her entire world lay trapped in an enchanted sleep? How could she care about dancing lessons and courtship when James was locked in this cursed slumber, unreachable behind a veil of dark magic?

So she stayed by his bedside, day after day, her heart splitting in two. Sometimes she whispered to him, her voice barely a breath, telling him stories of their adventures, of the times they’d ruled the palace together as kids. Other times, she simply sat in silence, willing him to wake, to bring back the boy who had always been there, with his laughter, his teasing smile.

But no magic, no remedy, nothing could reach him.

That was when she threw herself into the search, hunting through the castle’s dusty archives, seeking out every healer and sorcerer she could find. She combed through ancient texts and forgotten spells with a desperation that burned in her chest. The months turned into years, but failure only sharpened her determination. She refused to believe that this was how it would end.

And then, finally, she found it. Hidden away in the forgotten corners of the castle’s vast library, a crumbling book told an old folktale—of a prince cursed into eternal sleep, who could only be awakened by a kiss of true love.

Lily scoffed at first. 

A kiss? 

It sounded absurd, like something from one of the fairytales she and James had mocked in their younger years. But after every spell had failed, after years of searching, she began to wonder. Could there be some truth to the legend? Was it possible that, in all her searching, the simplest answer had been there all along?

With nothing left to lose, she climbed the spiral stairs to the tower where James slept, her heart thundering in her chest. True love’s kiss. It sounded ridiculous. And yet… she couldn’t deny the weight of what lay between them, the unspoken bond that had always been more than friendship, more than mischief. 

Could it really be so simple?

She stopped at his bedside, her heart a storm of emotions. Staring down at James, at the boy who had been her partner in every adventure, she rolled her eyes. “Alright, Prince,” she muttered, her voice catching in her throat. “Enough of this. Time to wake up.”

With a deep breath, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his—softly, as if it was the smallest test. But the moment their lips touched, something surged through her. Magic sparked between them, and for a single heartbeat, the world seemed to pause.

Then, slowly, James stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, hazel and familiar, blinking in confusion. He looked up at her, dazed. “…Lily?” His voice was rough, but the sound of it nearly broke her.

Lily’s breath hitched, disbelief flooding her. “James… you’re awake!”

He sat up slowly, blinking as though waking from a dream. “What happened?” he rasped, his voice laced with confusion.

Lily laughed, her breath coming in short, shaky bursts as she tried to steady herself. “Turns out I’m your true love. Who would’ve guessed?”

James’ dazed confusion melted into a familiar, teasing grin, though there was a vulnerability in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. “True love, huh?” he mused, his voice raspy but playful. “I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”

She smacked his arm lightly, though her heart pounded in her chest, the joy bubbling up, overwhelming. He was back. He was really back. And with him, that wildfire between them, the connection that had never dimmed, even in all the years of silence. It was as though the world had shifted back into place, the axis she hadn’t realized had been off-kilter correcting itself.

James sat up slowly, his body stiff from years of unnatural stillness, but his hand moved with familiar ease as it cupped her cheek. Lily felt the warmth of his palm, the roughness of his fingers as if it were the first time. She settled beside him on the mattress, leaning into his touch as his eyes roamed her face, taking in the changes. The way her cheekbones had sharpened, how there were faint lines around her eyes from years of worry, yet they still crinkled the same when she smiled.

“How old are we?” he asked suddenly, his voice laced with disbelief.

Lily hesitated, biting her lip. “I turned twenty a few moons ago.”

His breath hitched. “You mean I’ve been asleep for five years?” His voice cracked, and the weight of it hit him all at once—five years, gone in the blink of an eye for him, while the world outside had kept spinning.

“Five years too long,” she whispered, her throat tightening as she met his gaze. “I tried everything, James. Spells, potions, every piece of magic I could find. I turned the whole kingdom upside down—except for this.” She gave a soft, incredulous laugh, her fingers brushing against his. “I didn’t even know true love’s kiss was real.”

James’ eyes softened, his hand still resting gently on her cheek. “Can I have another?” he asked, his voice low and warm. “I dreamed of you kissing me for five years.”

Lily’s breath caught, her eyes widening. “You dreamed of me?” she whispered, barely able to comprehend it.

He nodded, pressing his forehead to hers, the intimacy of the gesture sending shivers down her spine. “Every moment. Every second. I would’ve dreamed about you for eternity if that’s what it took to be with you again.”

Her heart swelled, the sheer depth of his words unraveling the knot of pain she’d carried for so long. Without another thought, she kissed him, her fingers threading through his messy black hair as she pulled him closer. And this time, it wasn’t just an experiment, or a test of some ancient magic. It was a kiss full of years of longing, of love unspoken but always there, burning beneath the surface.

James responded with a fervor that made her knees weak, his hands sliding up her back as if he needed to feel every inch of her, to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. The kiss was slow and deep, a promise of everything they had lost and everything they still had left to gain.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Lily couldn’t help but smile—a smile so wide and bright it made her cheeks ache. She rested her forehead against his again, her voice a whisper, but steady. “I love you,” she confessed, the words finally spilling free after years of being buried beneath fear and uncertainty. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

James’ eyes shone with something deeper than his usual teasing mischief. His grin softened, and he reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. “Well,” he said, his voice full of warmth and that familiar spark of adventure, “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Lily laughed, the sound light and free in a way it hadn’t been in years. “Oh, you have no idea,” she teased, but her heart felt whole again for the first time in so long.

They sat there, in the stillness of the tower room. Time, for once, seemed to slow down, allowing them this moment, this reunion. No curse, no villain, would ever keep them apart again. She'd found the way to save them. 

[ohnoanalien]

Headache

@journey-to-the-au has an awesome fake marriage AU, and as someone with PTSD this post really touched my heart in ways I can't explain. My writing's not as good obviously, but it's a little 'thank you' gift for giving us such great content! Enjoy!

TW: PTSD, flashbacks, phantom pain, panic attacks

It didn't take long for the Monkey King to notice something was wrong. As he walked through the halls of the Jade Emperor's palace, each fiber on soft carpet felt like long-dead grass.

The noblemen around him shot unwanted gazes. On the average day they buzzed like a swarm of gnats– annoying, but harmless. But all too suddenly, eyes pierced through the dark like cold spotlights. And the world blurred like a crude, two-dimensional set on a stage. 

He fought the urge to cradle his head.

No. No no no, not now--

"Wukong!" The Great Sage blinked back a dizzy spell, a soft beacon of light cutting through the audience. Earth Reaching Willow greeted him with a soft smile, hanfu gliding across the snowy fiel-- the floor. He shot back a wide grin with a bit too much teeth, unsure if her presence was a saving grace or a terrible nightmare.

"How is Flower Fruit Mountain, darling?" Earth Reaching Willow's dark eyes flicked briefly to the immortals that surrounded them, staring openly.

Keep your composure. Don't look weak. You were-- will be fine.

"Are you alright?" Willow whispered, interrupting her husband's thoughts.

In return her husband smiled wider, wanting to die.

"'Course I am!" He rested his hands on his hips. Willow didn’t miss the way the Monkey King’s tail wrapped tight around his waist, itching to lash like a broken metronome. "What makes you think I'm not?"

It seemed like they were the stars of the banquet, hushed chatter muffled into wine glasses. But his ‘beloved’ persisted. "You just seem...what’s the word. A bit off-color?"

"Pfft! Off-color?" A seething pain rattled Wukong's skull, and his pained smirk reached his ears, "I'm alright! I'm alright! Nothing to worry about, Master!"

The voices went silent. The palace went still. The Great Sage felt his face warm, slapping a paw over his mouth.

The pain was unbearable. Colors and lights began to morph and shift, and the ground rocked beneath his feet. He allowed himself to be pulled by an unknown force, and marble hallways stretched into a dirt road. No, no they were by a snowbank. Or was it a monastery?

"Wukong?"

The chilly air did nothing to dull the pain, gasping for air as Tripitaka’s eyes continued to change color and shape. Dark to light, scared to angry. Over and over until his mind began to crumble, disorientation clouding his vision.

"Poor thing." A soothing voice called from the flashback, cleaving the delusion open like a knife on the butcher's table. "How are you feeling?"

"I was-- I'm-- I'll be--" Wukong scrambled to collect his pride before it could fall any further.

"It's alright, it's alright. Just calm down and--"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!" Wukong snarled. Rage snaked up his throat like a trapped beast. "I am the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, and I am no mere monkey!"

His eyes stung, desperately scraping at his head, searching to rip off a phantom crown. And ignoring the stinging, self-inflicted wounds that bloodied his claws. "I was the one who single-handedly took down the entirety of Heaven! I was the one who journeyed for years-- nnh! I-- I'm not-- I don't care about the pain!"

A muffled voice called above the panic.

"I don't care! I don’t care! So just make it stop!"

"Wukong!" A panicked voice called.

Earth Reaching Willow.

He cracked open an eye-- dammit, he was crying on the floor. His old friend kneeled on her knees, robes pooling around her like a waterfall. Delicate hands reached out, then pulled back. "Sun Wukong, Vengeful Fighting Buddha. Lovely monkey. Listen to me and listen well. You have to care."

For the first time in his long, long life, the Great Sage was speechless.

"You have to care." She repeated, tears spilling down her cheeks, "You have to because you're hurting yourself."

A terrible realization weighed on Wukong's heart, and he touched a shaking finger to his forehead. Blood seeped through a perfect, golden coat, and he breathed in the iron scent that burned his nose.

"I. I'm sorry for worrying you." He croaked. “I was lost.”

"No need to apologize, my friend." Earth Reaching Willow placed a hand to her chest, "I am no different. During my own panic attacks, my father would constantly tell me to 'calm down'. I'm ashamed I did the same to you."

"Willow--"

"But this isn't about me." A shaky, pale palm wiped at her cheeks. "Tell me how to help."

"Don't worry! Don't worry! I'm fine." Sun Wukong threw on a smirk, sewn in place with string and prayers.

Earth Reaching Willow shot back an unimpressed expression. "Wukong."

Mortification spread like wildfire across his face. Wordlessly, the stone monkey stared at her lap. And before he could open his mouth, Willow gently pushed him downward.

"Lovely monkey." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple-- worry unraveling as a relieved sigh brushed her ears. "You may have a position to uphold, and I may not always understand what you’re going through, but I promise you are safe with me. I will hold you if you need to cry. I will listen if you feel alone. I will give you your space when you ask for it. But please, for my sake, ask for help. Don’t try to hold up a century’s worth of pain and false pride by yourself. Let me keep you safe, as you have for me."

Gentle touches turned into strokes. And even when choking sobs wracked the walls, Earth Reaching Willow hummed softly, brushing aside the tears that soaked her fingers.

[thebettybook]

🕯️ Birthday Candles Amongst the Stars ✨

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Summary: Leona slips away from his fifteenth birthday banquet at Afterglow Savannah to a private balcony, making his birthday wish amongst the stars.

Warnings: Leona ANGST :’), but some fluff at the end. Also mention of a lighter that Leona uses to light a birthday candle.

Strawbetty’s notes: I said I didn’t have any ideas to write a b-day fic for Leona this year, but I decided to write this fic last minute, and there’s still a few minutes left till Leona’s birthday ends where I’m from. In a way, I’d like to call this fic my birthday present to Leona :)

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Leona slipped behind a floor-length sepia curtain in the corner of the grand banquet hall that was decked out for his birthday evening party with the most lavish of his family’s gold plates, silver streamers, and fancy food (at least the majority of the dishes contained meat, or else Leona would’ve left the banquet hours ago).

The teenage lion beastman just turned 15, an age of which he didn’t really consider a milestone. It was just another year of growing older, another year of being reminded that he was slowly losing his place in his own family. In fact, the party was more of just another of the many celebrations held in the palace for his elder brother Farena and his wife Safiya to congratulate them for expecting their first child.

It would be a few more months until the new heir to the throne was born—the name of the heir still technically a secret but Leona and other immediate members of the palace were already informed that the baby’s name was to be Cheka—so Leona’s birthday party was treated more like another countdown to Cheka’s birth.

While Farena and Safiya went all out in terms of lavishness more than usual for Leona’s birthday this year in a genuine attempt to make him feel loved and included, it was their extended family members that made Leona feel anything but.

Cousins, aunts, uncles—even fifth-time-removed cousins, aunts, and uncles Leona had never seen in his entire life—barely uttered a “Happy Birthday” to Leona once they entered the banquet at the start of the evening party as they all went to straight to Farena and Safiya to talk about Cheka.

Even three hours into the party, all these relatives were swarming Leona’s brother and sister-in-law in hopes of getting “close” to the King and Queen of Afterglow Savannah and their unborn child.

Leona rolled his eyes for the fifth time that evening. He tried his best to ignore the pit that swirled in his stomach born from constantly being overlooked and neglected even on his birthday.

His eyes flitted down to the gilded plate he held in his hands with care—a plate that held a generous slice of dark chocolate cake made from the finest Afterglow Savannah floral cocoa (his favorite).

Tch.

As swift as he slipped behind the curtain, Leona made his way to the balcony right next to the curtain—conveniently located at the far end of the banquet hall and away from the masses.

The cool Afterglow Savannah evening breeze hit his face, sending his chin-length dark-brown mane flying behind him. Leona couldn’t help but exhale and chuckle a bit.

It was like nature was forcing him to remember that it was his birthday, and that nature was saying “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Leona mumbled to the wind. He dug in his ebony tuxedo pants pocket and took out a teeny gold candle and a lighter he managed to swipe from the table that held the five-tiered cake for him earlier.

Leona had to blow out the candles in front of everyone an hour ago, earning huge cheers from Farena and Safiya yet polite claps from everyone else. Thankfully, Leona had noticed a spare candle on the table—probably forgotten by one of his family’s butlers—and took it for this exact moment.

Leona jabbed the candle on top of the slice of the cake, not caring to place it neatly in the middle. He didn’t make a wish when he blew out the candles in front of everyone earlier, and he usually thought wishing on birthday candles was corny, but this year, Leona wanted to make a wish for himself.

The lighter sparked an ember of warm orange as he began to light the candle. Soon, a single flame danced before his eyes, illuminating his summer-green orbs with flecks of gold as the flame “danced” to wish him a “Happy Birthday,” too.

Leona’s eyelids fluttered shut, his long and dark eyelashes kissing the skin beneath his eyes.

He inhaled, air climbing up his lungs.

I wish…

…I wish that every day won’t be the same for me. I wish that I’ll be somewhere where I’m not second to anyone, somewhere where I can choose who I want to be and do whatever I want.

Somewhere…somewhere where birthdays don’t feel like a chore and they’ll actually be fun.

And somewhere where I don’t have to wear dumb stuffy clothes like this all the time.

Wherever that place is, I wish that it exists.

He exhaled, a puff of breath extinguishing the flame as the night sky enveloped his face with its gentle darkness once again.

Leona fished out a spare sterling silver fork from his pocket that he also swiped from the banquet earlier and poked it into the cake, bringing the morsel of the cake up and into his mouth.

Mm. The moist dark-chocolate cake made from Afterglow Savannah floral cocoa paired with a vanilla-bean buttercream frosting wasn’t too sweet—just the way he liked it. Subtle notes of orange rinds from the oranges grown in his family’s palace gardens that were baked into the cake made the cake all the more fragrant and tasty.

As Leona chewed on the piece of cake, his eyes shot up to the stars, not noticing them till now.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head as he swallowed the piece of cake in his mouth.

Hundreds upon thousands of stars littered the night sky, the light purples, whites, and silvers of the stars so bright amongst the navy sky that the stars practically lit up the sky like flames—as if the stars were flames from a million birthday candles just for Leona.

Leona tipped his chin up to the sky, puffing his cheeks. He blew out the air in his mouth up at the stars, as if blowing out the “birthday candles” amongst the stars.

Obviously, the stars remained bright. They winked down at Leona as if to promise him that his wish will come true.

His lips immediately cracked into an opened-mouth grin. He was pretty sure his canine teeth had some pieces of cake stuck to them, but he didn’t care.

Leona was now a year older. That meant another year of his place in his royal family slowly slipping away; another year of approaching a future carved out for him of someday having to support his brother’s reign.

But being a year older also meant the possibility of getting the chance to carve out his own future. Not here, but somewhere that surely had to exist.

I don’t know where I’ll be in a year or two from now, but I sure as hell hope it’s somewhere great.

And little did Leona know, but the stars already knew, he would end up somewhere great in the near future.

Somewhere where he would celebrate his birthdays with a room full of people from all walks of life who he would learn to truly love and care for.

Somewhere where he’d grow a bit older, and learn to grow a bit wiser as well.

And that “somewhere” would be Night Raven College.

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Writer and Leona recap:

Leona: *Gets the notification for this fic* Two minutes before my birthday ended, huh?

Strawbetty: Yep, that was a close one :’). Happy Birthday, Leona. I hope you had a great one this year.

Leona: *Smiles and ruffles my hair* Thanks, herbivore. I appreciate it.

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Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Leona content? Check out my masterlist.

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[badpanduhmemes]

A Quick Fanfic (TeenShen Birthday) Girl is nice to him

Here is yet another fanfic. This was supposed to be part of a collection of short Shen-centric shorts that went absolutely nowhere.

ShenXoc? I guess? Someone's nice to him on his birthday.

@notsosqueakiclean it's the closest to a true honest ShenXoc fic I currently have. I hope the tag is okay. Apologies if it's not. I can untag you.

Painted by the Stars

Shen wings were in front of him, a sign to those who knew him that he was nervous, though he, himself, was utterly oblivious of his parent's scrutiny, or the Soothesayer's thoughtful brown eyes, watching him from a short ways off was neither here nor there.

It was an old habit, a subconscious way in which he shielded himself the world around him, and it was not a terrible way to conceal a few knives in his feathers every once awhile. A pity he did not have them on him now, but it couldn't be helped, yet he felt their absence.

He flexed his wing feathers trying to ease the tension that had stiffened his shoulders, and settled like a heavy hot glede in his breast.

It was his birthday, and a banquet was being held in his honour, but it was more than that, and that's what niggled uncomfortably. From various neighbouring provinces young lords and ladies were in attendance, in the hopes that future friendships, and alliances would be made. It was chance for his peers to meet him, and for him to meet a few potential future spouses.

Peahens were in attendance, in a wide array of dazzling colours. Some were slightly younger than him, and a few were older. All of them were beautiful and a few were stunning. There were ladies of other origins as well; monals, dholes, a pair of tragopan hens, any of whom or all of whom could have made a suitable match, perhaps. There were lords and ladies from neighbouring cities, and provinces, and of course Gongmen City's aristocrats and their children had all been invited to celebrate his special day.

Him, who stood out in stark contrast against the brilliant colours of the hall, and his family's guests. Ugly, austere, the colour of death, prone to occasional bouts of ill health, and considered to be a bad omen, his only saving grace was his birth right, and the title that came with it. It was the only reason gifts were being brought to him, and the only reason why everyone in attendance had satiated their appetites dumplings and partaken in longevity noodles.

He'd barely been able to eat his own longevity noodle, coiled in the bowl that been placed before him, when anxiety sat so heavily in his stomach, it crowded out all sensation of hunger. The dumplings, he hadn't bothered with.

Music played gently, and as the time feasting waned, people were walking about, mingling and dancing. At length he'd gotten up to mingle, partly out of genuine desire to strike up a conversation with one of the peahens he'd been keeping a loose eye on, but more so because it was required.

He was to be a lord someday and courtesy was to be his cloak and dagger, and this party the first of many battlefields, to be won with courtly subterfuge, and gallant smiles. Forcing himself to swallow his nerves, he joined the fray poised and regal as any noble.

All the while his attention was turned partly toward the lady that had caught his eye. She was pretty peahen, perhaps a year or so younger than himself, and likely one of the few he had even a faint hope of striking a conversation with. They formed gaggles, talking and laughing amongst themselves in formidable groups he was unwilling to approach. But whenever he was waylaid by well wishes from other nobles he paused to acknowledge them, thanking them for visiting, and enquiring after their trip to the palace, their health, and maybe taking an additional few moments to discuss anything that might have caught his interest or piqued his curiosity.

The young peahen he'd been watching meandered her way to a small to a small group of young ladies, and Shen inwardly frowned. She was speaking to a pair of monal hens that he guessed were sisters, and a monkey. It wasn't as bad as a group of peahens, but nerves made his skin flushed and he opted to continue his conversation with a dhole who was prattling on about a cousin of his that had fallen into a river.

The dhole laughed and Shen took that as his cue, uttering a series of manufactured chuckles that sounded genuine.

"And then you know what?" The dhole added merrily. "He tripped again!" They pair of them laughed more, and Shen decided that he would speak to her: the pretty young peahen with the aqua face and green plumage.

It hadn't been terrible a conversation, but all around him he could hear the whispers, and criticisms, and one brief interlude with the dhole boy could not stave them off completely, and they burned his ears as he made his way toward the girl. Words peeled open scabs across his heart, and once again the dribbled and wept as he carried on.

He would not let the rumours of albinism, and being a bad omen get the best of him. Not tonight, so he did what he had learned to do early on, he buried the pain deep and paid the lacerations no mind, because he knew he'd get angry if he didn't, and his temper had begun to burn on a progressively shortening fuse over the years.

To his chagrin a few other peahens had joined the one he wanted to talk to, as had a peacock who was definitely a few years older than him with a train much longer, that glided in glittering gold irradiance winking like the son over forest greens, and soft sky blues, and dark eyes spots, that even folded Shen envied the sight of.

One of monals spotted him approaching, and there was no altering his course. They now knew he was coming. Them, the monkey, the peahens, and the peacock he could not hopelessly compare to, knew he was approaching, and as they continued to speak with each other, he could imagine the insults. He was a freak among his own kind, and everyone knew, especially the peahens who preferred men of brilliant colours.

And with a peacock there to paint so stark a difference his own sickly appearance made, before their eyes, he had no hope of attracting any of them. Title, inheritance, and his family's prestige would not save him here. Not anymore, and heart was hammering uncomfortably fast as he walked up to them.

They were all watching him when he paused before them, giving a light bow out of respect to his guests, though it was hardly necessary.

Their gazes were a mix of manufactured neutrality and curiosity, the only exception being a peahen with a violet purple face that transitioned into bright spring greens and deeper emeralds at her collar. She didn't seem particularly impressed by the sight of him, but Shen looked away from her to face the peahen of aqua and green he'd been pursuing.

"Greetings, my lady," he offered her a faint smile, despite the cloying anxiety rising like bile to burn at the back of his throat. "I had hoped, you might do me the honour of walking with me?"

Her green eyes, darted side to side, suddenly unnerved and uncertain, and quite possibly embarrassed by the idea that she had caught the eye of the resident freak. It was enough to rankle him, and enough to make carefully bound anger squirm under his foot.

The violet faced peahen murmured darkly to her quiet uncomfortable companion, while the teal faced girl lifted her chin.

"Please pardon me my lord," she spoke in a soft warbling whimsical voice that grated on his nerves. "I'm honoured you sought me out, but the festivities have worn me out and I was giving my friends short farewells, before retiring."

Her words were neatly packaged in politeness, but he had no doubt is was a flagrant lie on her part. But even as he opened his beak to wish her a pleasant evening, the older purple faced peahen behind her said something to her pink faced companion, and the word 'albino' did reach his ears.

Already, embarrassed and irritated, it struck a nerve, and one of his taloned feet clenched as he turned his attention to her, and she met his gaze with a steely glare of her own, as if silently daring him to say something.

He was keenly aware of the eyes on him. The peahens he was talking to, but a few other young lords and noble ladies in the vicinity were watching on the side lines, as he grappled with his rising ire.

From nearby he heard, "must be brain dead too" and to have intellect question on top of his physical health and hideous appearance, was a line crossed, and for a brief terrifying moment he saw red, and the polite air around him evaporated, as he opened his beak to offer a scathing retort.

But another voice spoke. Deep melodious, with the even temper of a slow river, that feminine voice flooded the turbulent silence.

"It's a rare and unusual think for stars to fall the heavens, and even rarer still for those stars to rise again, and walk among us. But the very eyes of the cosmos, have seen fit to grace one of our own in such brilliance. Look at him. Truly look at him, and tell him his feathers are not bright enough to match them. I know we peafowl are prideful, and I of course am no exception, but if the stars themselves have found him worthy of wearing their light so absolutely and unbrokenly, then I cannot imagine the measure of hubris required to tell them they were wrong."

Shen's heart stopped. The stars themselves have found him worthy. His mouth closed. His anger vanished, as that rive-water-voice washed over him, smoothing over the sharp edges of his wrath, and soothing frayed nerves.

"If it's not too bold: this creature of earth and water, would be flattered and honoured, if the celestial being standing before her, would lead her through a dance."

Eyes wide, heart racing, Shen turned to face the peahen who had spoken, and his mouth turned dry.

Her face was corn flower blue, and it darkened to true royal blue at her collar, but the wing feathers, peeping at him from under her sleeve were an ashy brown, but there upon her head, the small plume of feathers, were gold as if she'd been crowned by the sun itself, and that gilded golden hue winked at him from the feathers along her throat, like the sun on the sea.

She was stunning, beautiful, and Shen's mind had seized as he stared at her. He'd seen her from a window when guests had started arriving, and he'd thought her beautiful even then, but at least three or four years older than him, gorgeous he'd written her off as unobtainable. No peahen so beautiful could have found anything attractive in him. It wasn't possible.

Behind him he heard a scoff, and a few infuriated hisses from the peahens behind him, peahens he no longer cared about, and something spiteful, bold, and vindictive, rose up to grab him by the neck, as it compelled him forward, and before he could he could think through the consequences of his actions, he stepped toward her.

"Yes," he raised his head emboldened by the faint smile that curled the corners of her beak. The crest on his head rose, and for the first time the entire evening his wings settled at his sides. "Yes I would."

She bowed before him, the waves of the sea winking at him from her feathers as she dipped and then rose. The azure silk of her gold embroidered sleeve shifted, as she took the wing he offered her.

All eyes, were on them, on him with this stunning peahen walking bold and confident beside him, seemingly unashamed to be in his presence, and Shen's head was reeling, unable to figure out when his birthday had turned into a dream. He must have gotten sick and passed out or fainted in embarrassment, but it hardly mattered, as his feet had seemingly taken control of him, guiding the two of them forward unto they found spot for a short dance.

"As hard as it may be, try not to hold it against them. Peahens at that age have not learned how to see beyond their eyes. Regrettably some of them never will, but there will be others who grow up and grow wiser. You need only be patient."

The stars have found him worthy. Over and over those words rolled across his mind. The stars found him worthy.

"Is it true?" He asked. Have the stars found me worthy? And if they have could I not be worth of you.

As if guessing his line of thought she smiled. They paused in their danced, her eyeing him with a shrewd blue eyes, while he held his breath.

"Is there a place we could speak more privately?" She finally asked.

Shen paused, suddenly on edge and nervous. He looked around surveying the room. His parents were watching them from afar, and for a brief moment he met their gazes. It was hard to see if they were proud, but they had taken a keen interest in his sudden change in fortune. Perhaps they were hopeful that this peahen might be a future spouse in the making? A part of would not have been displeased with such an arrangement, but her desire to talk in private worried him.

She called him a star, but instead he felt like a minnow being pulled along a current too powerful for him to swim against, leading him toward something that seemed genuinely promising, but potentially terrifying. What if all he was met with was some deep dark abyss? He had no way of knowing where the current of her thought patters was ultimately going to lead him, but part of him wanted to know, needed irrationally to know, whether or not she spilled empty pretty words into his ear, or if there was genuine merit in them.

Knowing he couldn't be alone with her, unchaperoned, he kept a firm grip on her wing as he approached a wolf guard.

"We're heading to that balcony, and our handlers are elsewhere." He gestured at the assembly. "Please accompany us, and stand guard in the doorway."

The wolf nodded and fell into step beside them. Asking one of the wolves to join them served two functions, it would reassure their parents they weren't engaging in anything inappropriate, and the wolf would likely keep them from being disturbed. He walked her to the far end, in an attempt to make it as seemingly private as possible, but with the wolf a yard or so away it was a hopeless endeavour.

He released his hold on her, and turned to face her.

The stars found him worthy, but had they really?

"Please, tell me if what you said is true." Deep down he knew it wasn't, but for some reason, some fervent, masochistic reason, he needed to hear say that it wasn't or more of her sweet lies until he could believe them.

"Yes and no." She looked away from him to stare at the palace grounds and the city stretched out beyond the walls. "I'm not sure it matters though. Sometimes we need hear a beautiful lie, to be reminded of a simple and obvious truth."

He glowered at her. He could appreciate the honesty, but the knowledge that her pretty words bore no substance and that she truly thought him ugly, hurt more than he could put words to. "And what truth would that be?" His eyes flickered eerily, but his voice was icy.

"In this case, that you are beautiful and you are worthy. It doesn't matter how or why, whether you're sickly or healthy, albino or bathed in starlight, only that you know beyond doubt that it is not your fault they can't see the value of your life behind your feathers. The fault is theirs and theirs alone."

His pupils dilated, and his nostrils flared as his throat burned. He reached out to grab her, the railing, something, and anything as the world tilted under his feet. Words failed him as he started coughing, nearly choking on the lump that had formed in his throat, and all the while he sensed her there, standing beside him, concerned and worried, and speaking to him.

The wolf guard rushed over, but regaining some sense of pride if not decorum, he waved the canine away.

"Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? He repeated, in a mental daze, as he grinned. "I'm better than that. I'm happy." His voice cracked as he let loose a fit of breathless laughter. She smiled nervously, but let him be; deciding he supposed, that if anything had been truly wrong with him, he wouldn't have shooed away the guard or that the wolf would have run off to get help.

Shen eventually calmed, after giving her a reassuring smile, that he was pleased to see returned, he turned toward the railing, and closed his eyes taking a deep breath. His heart felt lighter than it had all evening, and he sensed her shift beside him, and he cracked an eye open to watch her as she stared out over the palace court yard, before shutting his eye again and letting himself bask in the companionable silence that had settled over them.

Another birthday could have come and gone, but all too soon the silence broke, and the warm bubble Shen found himself standing in was rudely popped, by the clearing of a throat.

The wolf was standing there, ears folded back, and refusing to look at either of them.

"The young lady's parents have asked for her, and your absence my lord is being noted."

Both peafowl frowned, and Shen sighed. "We'll be there in a moment."

He glanced at the peahen next to him, and saw a faint glimmer of worry in them. "I hadn't realized we'd been away so long."

Shen scoffed. "It's been fifteen minutes at most."

"Yes, but even still…." She trailed off turning to leave. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

"But what of you?" He caught her wing.

She look down at his wing feathers, wrapped around hers and then looked back to him. "What about me?" And Shen was at a loss. What could he say? Stay? Don't leave? They had only just met. They weren't engaged, and he had no idea whether or not their families would eve approve such a match. He begrudgingly realised he didn't even know her name. He just stared at her, mind racing, unwilling to let someone who had been so nice, suddenly walk away and out of his life, possibly never to return.

Something of his thoughts must have been on his face, because she tuned back toward him, giving his feathers a faint squeeze.

"You have other guests that you must tend to. I doubt my parents intend for us to leave so soon. We can speak more later." She offered him a reassuring smile. "But beyond this party and tomorrow, I don't know. So should this be goodbye, I want you to know that of all the constellations that exist you are my favourite." Something in Shen's chest cinched, strangling the air in his lungs. "And you're certainly the only one capable of carrying on pleasant conversation." She teased with a faint laugh. "But more importantly, when you are at your most desolate, cold, angry, frustrated, and alone, or when the world is at its most cruel, I want you to look up at the stars, and remember this moment: that you are worthy, valuable, and beautiful, because it is the memory of this moment the world will try to take away."

She gazed at him with worried eyes. "Do all you can not to let it, and then perhaps, if our mutual stars align, we'll meet again someday. But until then, I bid you farewell. Oh-" She paused as if just remembering something and offered him her warmest smile yet.

"Happy birthday."

[wordycheeseblob]

Mattias Osbrink x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

Snow Sand Sakura event hosted by the most wonderful @violettduchess and @dear-mrs-otome

Word Count: 1.8k

Angst

Premise: It was not meant to be, thus fate had torn your paths asunder.

Dark was the night. The stars refused to show their face, shying away from the radiant glow of the palace; their envoys descending to the earth in the form of freshly fallen snow that glistered as it passed the windows adorned in flowers of frost, saluting the guests inside yet keeping a respectful distance and then, becoming invisible in the darkness.

It's not the incandescent parade of snowflakes that caught your eye, but what lay past it. A whimsical singularity of the ballroom's windows was its height; no ordinary house would stand to risk letting the cold in, bringing an austere look to almost all of Achroite's buildings.

But this place was for show, not living.

Even for their size, you're far below to get a glimpse of what was going on inside.

You observe their dancing forms... or rather the specter of their movement hinted by the subtle shifting light and how, at times, it tangled in the birches branches, shimmering through the crystal rime. You see it vividly as if you were present, the spins of fitted puffy skirts and whispers of delight. But you don't yearn to be there anymore; despite its brightness, there's nothing more than shallowness inside.

You were becoming quite blasé about the spectacle. It could not compare to the first ball you attended when you arrived at Achroite, alighting from the carriage, one of many, and then inside, absolutely dazzled. The lively chatting of the foreign guests animated the atmosphere throughout the halls.

The banquet table was cluttered with all sorts of food; caviar, wine, fruit juice, fried partridges in sauce, food heavier than refined which came with living in the north, different types of bread, pastries, and confectioneries. So, so many of them. Some nobles sauntered more powdered than a beignet; even so, most people there were educated and polite but made friends mostly from ennui.

No, it was all the same. It's just that now you see it with completely different eyes. When it comes to nobles, the bunch were nothing but performers, and when you saw the frivolity for what it was, the spell that held you had immediately broken.

Keeping up appearances was more draining than you thought so you left for a walk in the gardens that were covered in a blanket of white.

The ghost of your memories descends the stairways, sliding their hand over the balustrade and perambulating through the silvery landscape in places you didn't care to notice at the time.

That was when you first met. Someone called out to you pointing out that you were stepping on the castle lawn, the nonexistent lawn buried underneath heaps of snow. It was somewhat awkward and you sincerely hoped you'd never meet again. Back then you didn't know that man was Mattias Osbrink, Achroite's ex-military prince.

Alas, from that day onwards, you kept running into each other almost routinely because wherever you went, much to your dismay, trouble followed suit, and Mattias followed trouble.

Throughout your first days of stay, you had gotten mixed up in an assortment of melodrama which put you in the spotlight more often than you would have liked. As if someone was actively trying to pin the blame on you and sabotage your mission. Your head hurt from thinking how you even got out of it. You think you must have been a troublemaker in his eyes as it became a game of cat-and-mouse because whenever you wanted to escape, slip somewhere else to take a breather, he was there blocking your way, tall with a strong build, and a raised eyebrow. It annoyed you to no end. You were sure it was the same for him, although he never outright showed it. When it came to maintaining order, he was pedant, relentless, and very diligent in everything he did. That in itself was a strength and a weakness.

You really came to know each other. More than that of an acquaintance, it might have been an understanding like that of an officer and outlaw that have known each other's antics for some time. Turned out Matthias didn't really think you were behind it and tried to get the ones pulling on the strings through you. And maybe to anyone else, it might have looked like he was using you but that was not what you believed. You chose to help him, something of an alliance of ragtag detectives.

And to your surprise, the culprit really ended up being caught.

And somewhere along the way, it may just have become an unusual friendship. Despite his fastidious ways, that just might have been his way of showing kindness. Perhaps there was something else, deeply rooted in his adamant fight against injustice. The maelstrom of drama and intractability had passed in the blink of an eye, you really weren't interested in remembering the details. The time for your departure was slowly but for sure approaching.

But strangely, you didn't really want to go home anymore.

Matthias spent almost all his time drowning in legislation and paperwork, but in those last peaceful days, after the trouble was resolved and your assistance no longer needed, he somehow had time to magically run into you as he did before. Maybe more often even.

He happened to cross paths with you, and you happened to need his help with translation to which he would merely nod, adjust his glasses and skim through pages also pointing out any inconsistencies. And you just happened to sometimes find him in the gardens, walking in the same direction.

He didn't talk much. Mattias was curt and always to the point, and you didn't mind that. You preferred it to the flattery and overly adorned flowery language of the court.

¨You seem in a world of your own¨ He said scraping the snow off his gloves

¨Pardon?¨

¨The books. You're always reading in your free time¨

¨Do you think it's a pointless thing to do?¨ You lowered your book, not sure how to respond.

"Not at all. In fact, I've read quite a few books myself. Perhaps I could suggest a good read for you?" he offered.

It was to further your understanding of their native language and culture to improve the diplomatic relationship as he put it. Seemed somewhat pointless since it was almost time to leave, but you appreciated his effort to connect with you. And despite his reasons you were honestly surprised by his interest in your readings and eagerly shared your favorite authors.

You remember apologizing for getting so engrossed to the point where by the end of your enthusiastic speech the sky's rim had gained a crimson tint and the air's crisp cold painted your noses pink.

But this repeated frequently; he would bring you a book and then listen to your ramblings about it.

You enjoyed talking and he enjoyed listening.

And somewhere along the way...

You loved that fool, and you were a fool for loving him.

Too engrossed in daydreams of the past, you don't acknowledge the heavy crunch of snow approaching. Its halt. The slight dip of the wooden bench beside you. Your eyes don't stir from their designated place.

¨ Please, look at me.¨ A cult, rich baritone mixes with the muted waltz unobtrusively.

You turn. It's him, but you already knew that. That thick, navy blue sheepskin coat fastened hastily gave him an unkempt appearance. He must have left in a hurry. His soaked boots only added to the look. Matthias wore his reading glasses, the ones he used to pore over countless documents before, now foggy and hopelessly opaque as he stared at you with a serious expression. Despite yourself, this makes you chuckle and his eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles in return.

You steal his glasses to clean them with your linen handkerchief. Matthias doesn't stop you. His gaze is downcast, white lashes littered with flakes. You reach for him, setting the now pristine pair of lenses on his ears, but as you want to move away, he holds your hand in place, resting on his face. Your eyes finally meet, and it's more painful than you hoped.

" Stay " he asks you quietly but resolutely.

You study his expression, concealing from your eyes a dread that whispered that if you ever were to part, there would no longer exist hope of reuniting. You fear the same because deep down you know it might be true. To get to Achroite you had traversed Obsidian, a harsh and hostile land, and the truce that allowed for your secure passage was as fleeting as your stay.

This diplomatic mission was the only ticket.

You know you have to go: as Belle will always have a duty to her homeland, though it no longer felt like home. It was your duty, your secret burden, and you, its devoted martyr. It was unbearably painful having to love silently, withholding the truth that yearned so badly to be told. But even knowing that you wish you could be selfish just this once and linger.

Instead, you choose to put out the searing feeling using reason.

The words burn on your tongue, but you are mute. Lips sealed, your form encased in an icy cast. His eyes soften. Hushed and, which you may have imagined, almost woeful, he speaks the words you could not bring yourself to say aloud.

"Know... that I loved you."

"I wish..." Your lament is choked and raspy, "I wish... I never..." tears well on the corners of your eyes, and he gently brushes them away. It hurt the way he looked with tacit understanding. "May...be then it... wouldn't hurt so... much" Your words were trembling, you've never seen him look so earnestly at you.

Your breath hitches, and he pulls you close. It feels like an eternity but also like a memory already.

He is the first to pull away, carefully holding your shoulders. Your fur coat no longer remedies the cold.

He pats his coat and retrieves something from a pocket.

"If it's inevitable, I want you to have this"

He hands you the small object, a handcrafted ornamental music box. Holding it gingerly, you wonder if he was the one to piece it. Your fingertips hover over the gilded letters embossed on the margin as you read them. Those were two digits significant to the number of the musical composition. The title left unmentioned.

You try to hand it back, but he presses his rough hands over yours, trapping the dainty object in your hold along some of his warmth.

"I'm sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams" The phrase is beautifully spun, but it did not belong to him. A passage from the book he gave you. He said it just to give his feelings form. Perhaps he too, was at a loss for words. But even so, he slowly let you go.

You falter when It opens with a tink. Already Wound, it plays a foreign waltz. There is a cold, mysterious, haunting beauty to it. It is not downbeat; nevertheless, it evokes emotions that you know too well. Yearning, nostalgia, and... heartache. It was like looking through a lens into another epoch, long-lost in time. He gives you a rare smile.

You couldn't tell him, but he understood and accepted it in silence and tranquility.

Snowflakes fall around you, waltzing rhythmically, lackluster, slowly burying the footsteps long after he's gone. You didn't stop him. Not only that, you saw him off while the tune lulled you in the stillness of the night. Caressing your treasure, only then, do you notice the inscription inside its golden dome. A poem. He shared your interest in books, shared stories, and loved to reference his favorite achroitian and foreign authors, be it a quote, or a quip.

But there was no witty remark this time, merely a Farewell.

𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖;

𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏;

𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏.

𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒆-𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒅 𝒌𝒏��𝒘;

𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚,

𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐.

Poem by Alexander Pushkin

You can find the waltz Farewell here, on YT

Well, I'm not really a writer usually and I don't know much about editing a story. So when my head hurt about it I thought: hey, at least it's out there.

A/N: I honestly don't know. I wanted to trim this leaving the first cut and last, cutting everything in the middle. Sometimes context isn't needed and each can work as a standalone fragment, but though they're less fleshed out than I would have liked, I really enjoyed some things in them and couldn't bring myself to do it.

[the-void-writes]

"i told you not to fall in love with me."

I’m sorry it’s been taking so long to get through these lol. This one’s a little intense but it’s at least somewhat finished. I’m trying to fall back in love with writing again.

Summary: Will (the future older version) is stuck in the palace of Paradise’s moon god, King Aphelion, a creature who hates humanity and believes that Will is a fellow god trapped in human form. The king is holding Will, the object of his twisted affection, in his palace until he can free him and live with him forever.

TW for mentions of dissection.

For All Eternity - The Moon God

Aphelion’s palace was a sight to behold. The temple worshippers hadn’t exaggerated its grandeur, nor its disorienting nature. No corner of the room appeared the same way twice— the paintings and tapestries were always moving, like scenes from a film, and the hallways coiled and unfurled themselves like snakes. The walls were a different shade of blue each time Will looked at them. The sight made him even more nauseous than he already was.

He wanted to tear it all down, brick by brick and star by star. It wasn’t a home, rather a den for a monster who didn’t seem to understand his actions. Everything he did was “out of love” for Will. Every burn from the starlit cuffs on his wrists, every scar that ran down his chest from another failed dissection, every day that his body grew weaker… It was all out of love.

The “ritual,” as Aphelion called it, had drained Will of all his energy. His arms and legs ached to the point where he could barely move them. He had to be dragged into the dining hall by Aphelion’s handmaidens, beings of pure light who only existed to serve their king’s mortal guests for however long they lasted. There was pity in their gazes, but Will didn’t think it was for him.

The dining room was filled wall-to-wall with Celestials, towering high over the already-enormous banquet table, their limitless forms nearly brushing the ceiling. Millions of eyes and antennae stared down at Will, watching their guest of honor as he was pulled towards the end of the table, towards King Aphelion.

Of all the Celestials in the room, Aphelion was the most prominent. No one else had his cosmic glow, or his cloak that flickered and flashed in the light of the chandelier. In place of a head, there was a large crescent moon that rowed back and forth as he moved about. Rings of blue and pink dust were caught in its orbit, and a singular eye hovered in place, unconnected to the rest of his body. It made Will’s stomach turn in knots whenever it looked at him directly.

“At last, our guest is here.” Aphelion’s voice echoed in Will’s head, as though the sound had come from his own thoughts. “Please, help him sit down.”

The handmaidens took Will up a long staircase of clouds to the top of the table, where they placed him in a little chair like a child setting up their doll. Will didn’t turn to face Aphelion— even if he wanted to see him, his body was too tired.

“Thank you all for coming here once again,” Aphelion said. “I’d like to dedicate this feast to our dear guest.”

The Celestials vocalized in unanimous glee as the king gestured his large, blue, bumpy claw towards Will. His heart pounded in his chest, remembering how those sharpened nails held the blade that burned so intensely against his skin.

“Will Shapiro, the love of my life that I never expected to find. A true Celestial, if ever there was one.”

Despite the fire in his throat, Will forced himself to speak.

“I’m not… a Celestial.”

“An unfortunate illusion that those horrid humans put in your mind. You are so much more than what they say, my dear.”

Will pushed himself out of the chair, falling onto the table’s surface. He pressed his fist into the wood and hissed at the king.

“I’m not like you. I’m not a god, or a super weapon— I’m nothing.”

Aphelion gazed at him sadly. “You poor thing, speaking so terribly about yourself.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s your warped self-esteem, made even worse by the hideous creature living in your veins. Worry not, my darling. We’ll get that parasite out of you soon.”

As if on cue, Will felt the growths of the Infection shiver and sting. It wasn’t a sentient creature— at least, not from what Will knew— but he couldn’t help but feel its presence, burning with rage. It hated Aphelion and the magic that surrounded him. When the king had tried to cut into him, the sickening growths pulled Will back together like stitches in an old doll. The disease that was meant to kill him was now the only thing keeping him alive. Not out of love, but out of necessity. It couldn’t survive without a host.

“Here, darling,” Aphelion said, “let’s sit you back up.”

A giant claw reached forward, and Will’s whole body jolted with dread, reliving the horrific memory of being cut open. He frantically threw his arms out, pushing the king back in his seat. The other Celestials watched him intently, impressed by the power that this mortal form had over their own kind.

“Will, please, I’m trying to help you—”

“I told you,” Will hissed, “I didn’t want your help, or your love. I was happy down there with my friends, with Dante… I’ll never see him again, because of you.”

His tears fell on the table. The Celestials watched him, unmoving and unfeeling. Aphelion reached his claw out to catch his tears, but Will sent him back with another wave of energy. The table splintered where he stood, with a crack running down towards Aphelion’s spot.

The world melted around Will as the nausea set in. With his body weakened, it took even less effort to grow sick from his powers. Aphelion’s voice shook in his mind.

“Take him back to his room, please, and let him rest. The wretched creature is killing him.”

The warm grasp of the handmaidens pulled him across the table and down the stairs. Will closed his eyes for only a second, and then he was back in his room. The mattress seemed to writhe under his head, like a bag full of snakes. Outside of the small window, Will could see the vast blue abyss, littered with stars and planets that he and Dante would stare at for hours. His heart ached terribly to hold him one last time.

“I’m sorry, Dee,” he whispered to the stars. “I’m trying to fight him. I’m trying to come home.”

[evilgirlboob]

draft for a star blazers thing

im posting this solely for @cryptidwithacopiccollection

.

HAIL THE GARMILLONS HAIL OUR LEADER HAIL DESSLER

DESS-LER DESSLER DESSlER DESSLER DESSLER DESS-LER DESSLER DESSlER DESSLER DESSLER DESS-LER DESSLER DESSlER DESSLER DESSLER

Dessler stepped away from the podium, back into the depths of the palace. Propaganda Minister Adelheid Szalabastar greeted him. "Hail." said she. "You wrote an excellent speech." said he. "You're quite the orator. And a speech is only as good as the one who delivers it." Dessler chuckled. "It was no daunting task. Garmillons are such simple creatures. Too easy to please- it was almost a waste of our combined talent." "But don't forget, Abelt; this isn't just for the collective. It's for the shrewder few who may begin to doubt the glory of Garmillas." As they walked, they were joined by Chief of Staff Miesela Celestra. "Chief of Staff." said Szalabastar, saluting and averting her eyes. "Abelt. You're in good health as always. And Adelheid, you look well as well." "Celestra. What a pleasure." Shortly after, the three came upon the doors to the banquet hall. At the door stood two guards, who quickly saluted at the sight of Dessler.

The doors swung open, revealing the way into a simply marvelous, titanic, and exquisite hall. The East wall was entirely glass, allowing a lovely view of Barleras. The west wall, through which Dessler and Szalabastar had entered, had a titanic and beautiful mural painted across it of a Garmillon patriarch (who vaguely resembled Abelt's uncle, Erich nom Dessler) and an Iscändarian matriarch (modeled after Queen Starsha).

The gathered officials applauded, though their applause was notably different from that on Earth. Their applause was a deafening chatter of "Dess-ler, Dessler Dessler Dessler. Dessler, Dessler Dessler Dessler." The "sentences" varied in length, but the first syllable of the first "Dessler" in each was stretched out considerably. Dessler strode across the hall, walking along a long noble azure carpet that stretched from the entrance to a beautiful golden throne toward the East end. The officials, who were gathered at ornate tables adorned with golden accents, continued their rhythmic applause as he made his way towards the head table. By his side were Kess, Szalabastar, Celestra, Talan, and Hyss, all standing.

Dessler sat down and held up his hand, calling for silence. A servant handed him a glass. He took a sip of wine, leaned back, and nodded approvingly, before giving the near-full glass back to the servant to be thrown away.

"Well, let's get on with it."

"Y-Yes, your excellency." stammered the Viceroy, who had rushed everything, organization and planning wise. This was often effective and turned out perfect, though at a great cost to Hyss's mental health and stability. The old Viceroy cleared his throat. "Comrades-- gathered officers, scientists and other important members of noble Garmillon society-- Today we celebrate our 103rd year since the Great Unification, and 103 years of Dessler rule!" "Dess-ler, Dessler, Dessler." piped up the crowd before momentarily quieting down. "Approval ratings are through the roof." added Hyss. "Dess-ler, Dessler, Dessler." responded the crowd. Szalabastar bowed, proud. "And, according to General Histenberger's report, victory continues on into the Lesser Radjendora Galaxy. Those dreadful Gatlanteans never stood a chance." "His-tenberger, Histenberger. Dess-ler, Dessler, Dessler." Histenberger bowed, mild relief on his face at Dessler's apparent approval. "Excellent. And my special entertainment?" inquired Dessler. "What? C-Concubines?" said Hyss, utterly bewildered. Quite a few laughed. Dessler took a moment before doing so. "No, Hyss. The Jarmattu." Dessler corrected, once he decided he had laughed for the appropriate amount of time. "O-Oh! Right!" To say Hyss felt an idiot is not enough. "Uh… General Gör reports that the-the trap will be ready i-in… th-three hours, sir." "Hyss, you're an idiot." "I-Indeed, Leader." agreed Hyss, frightened.

THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATER

Colonel General Garamond Gör stood in the bridge of his flagship, the Görgamecj, watching in excitement as the barbarian ship, Jarmattu, steadily floated into his trap. "Perfect!" chortled he. "Alert Leader Dessler. His entertainment is in order!"

"Er… my Leader?" "What is it, Hyss?" "Gör says he has Jarmattu." Dessler adjusted himself. "Good." He sat upright and straightened out his cape. "Put it on the screen." The lights in the hall faded out, and the buzz of the room died down.

"Now." announced the Supreme Leader. "Comrades. I know your lives and jobs of… managing the lives and jobs of billions of others, it's… all really quite stressful-- especially our beloved Senior Vice Leader Garis Norrop, who manages the entire Lesser Radzjendora Galaxy--" There was some laughter in response to this, as well as scattered chanting or "Nor-rop, Norrop Norrop Norrop," as the great Norrop flushed deep blue, smiled, and bowed-- "And it is my belief you all deserve a moment of rest. So today, I present to you the end of a grand civilization, with the sincere hope of your entertainment. So please, enjoy the show." Applause; then, as Dessler sat back down, the screen slowly lit up, revealing a view of a large alien battleship amid a sea of stars.

"Behold, comrades. The Jarmattu. A marvel from a distant star. Though it comes from a previously uncontacted rock in the Zäl system-- who's natives were still bumbling around their inner four planets when we found them-- this ship carries a highly primitive Gesqtam engine. They seem to have engineered this wave-motion wonder purely out of spite for us. A beautiful testament to the indomitable human spirit." Scattered noises of mild fascination. "But, let's not deny it, soldiers of Garmillas. We all know how boring this is to you all. You desire action, yes?" Dessler stood up, flicking his cape, and smiled. "Let us blow it up." Resounding applause, cheers, and whistling. "DESS-LER, DESSLER DESSLER DESSLER DESSLER!" they cheered, on and on and on…

Dessler raised his hand, signaling for silence. The applause quickly died down. "Thank you, comrades. Now. Scattered around this marvel of defiance are hundreds of remote controlled Dessler Mines, courtesy of our wonderful Dr. Welte Talan.' "Ta-lan, Talan, Talan." muttered the crowd, as Talan bowed. Dessler continued. "These mines, my esteemed colleagues, are no ordinary mines. They are geniusly engineered to be nearly undetectable by radar. Not only that, but even while being nearly undetectable by radar, they also each have a built in propulsion system. Impressive, is it not?"

This was indeed quite impressive. It seemed impossible. How could it have onboard electronics without being detectable by radar? Or how could it maneuver without built in electronics? How could they receive orders with electronics AND something to bend light around it? Murmurs of curiosity and doubt filled the banquet hall. "But just talking about it isn't good enough. Allow us to show you." Yellow dots of various sizes appeared on onscreen, indicating the locations and distance of each mine. A red dot appeared onscreen indicating the position of Jarmattu, and an orange circle followed it indicating a target. Gradually, the mines closer to the camera began to recede, and the mines further off up began to approach, all carefully closing in around the Jarmattu.

Dessler looked on, slightly disappointed. "That's a bit slower than I expected. Mmh. No matter. Comrades, feel free to continue with your conversations and meals, but Hyss. Keep the screen up." "Yes, your excellency." The murmur and clatter of conversation and silverware faded back into existence as the gathered officials turned their attention back to their food and one another. "Perhaps the slow pace will heighten the sense of suspense." proffered Dr. Talan. "My thoughts exactly." improvised Dessler. "It's all about building anticipation for the main event, my dear doctor."

Over the course of the next 20 minutes, more people turned their attention back up to the screen as the mines closed in and tension mounted. Attention shifted when a pinglike tone was heard throughout the hall, indicating the detonation of one of the mines. The Jarmattu had sent a dummy drone out to test waters. "Clever." commented Dessler. "Teron ingenuity at a lesser extent. You'll enjoy what's to come." The Jamattu began firing small anti-aircraft pulse lasers off into the vaccuum, destroying the mines far enough off not to cause a chain reaction and close enough to eliminate real threats. But after about 30 seconds, it stopped. All eyes were now on the screen. The low murmur had turned to anticipatory silence. Another, lower pinglike tone rang out, repeating. An object had just left the Jarmattu. Was it a fighter? No, it was a human and an android, together bearing a large crate. "Thhe babrarians apppear human." observed a simply plastered Agricultural Minister Gelhen. "Many of them are." said Dessler, in reference to the various interstellar breeds of barbarian. "For the most part, they're no different from ourselves." Gelhen laughed at this. "A good jok, yyour exellenc-excelencyy." Dessler grimaced slightly-- slightly enough to be mistaken for a smile by those who did not know him. "It was no joke, my friend. I'm sure if we had a look inside that head of yours, and compared it to that of a Teron, a Jirel, and a Gatlantean, we'd find no difference at all." Gelhen laughed harder, not getting the message. Dessler smiled wider, his eyes fixed on Gelhen like those of a bird of prey.

Meanwhile, the two spacewalkers ventured out, floating to and from each Dessler Mine, attaching something to each one. "Can't we just detonate them and kill those two?" asked Celestra. "I'm afraid not." answered Talan. "You can't detonate individual ones, it's too complicated for that and I produced these on short notice. Blowing them all up at once would render the trap useless, and that, we could do regardless of if there were spacewalkers and have the exact same effect." "Then I have a proposition." stated she. "Have General Gör snipe them with low intensity long range beam weapons." "Unless Gör did it by accident, he seems to have specifically positioned them for a chain reaction, ma'am. It's simply not possible." "Then have him unposition them." Kess said plainly. "They're going to make a joke of your weapon." There was an uncomfortable moment. "That actually… That actually is possible. Your Excellency?" Hmm. Dessler thought for a moment. "Hmm… No, have Gör accelerate the mines. We will outpace them." "Yes, my Leader." said Hyss as Talan winced. "Ah, mm--" vocalized a grimacing Talan. "My Leader, they're closing in at maximum speed already." Dessler closed his eyes, inhaled, waited a second, exhaled, opened them again, and smiled politely. "Thank you, Talan. Your engineering prowess was almost adequate." Talan nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry, your excellency."

But by then. the Jarmattu's spacewalkers had returned to their ship. Suddenly, several-- not all, not even most, but several of the encroaching Dessler Mines began to fly back away from the Jarmattu. Dessler burst out into laughter in response to this. Followed by a frightened and confused Hyss and various other officers desiring to win Dessler's favor. "Hah-That was quite a simple solution. I bid them congratulations," said Dessler, once he was able to, "Though I don't deny I wonder why they've modified so few of them. I believe we should take a moment to appreciate the ingenuity of these creatures. Hail to thee, Terons." Gelhen, struggling to hold himself up against the mixture of laughter and liquor, finally managed to say something like: "An excellentjoke,, sir! ANd how th PRIMITIVes thin kthey've achived somethinng!!, Huzzah to them!!!" Dessler looked over at Gelhen, not disguising his look of anger this time. Gelhen quickly shut up. Seeing the joy fade from the drunk fool's face, Dessler's polite smile returned, and he turned to his comrade Kess. "I wish men like that would learn when to shut up." he whispered. "Would you like me to shut him up, sir?" "You're a saint, Aldous."

Kess stepped away from Dessler, whistled, and pointed. A few Imperial Guard officers joined him as he went to escort Gelhen out of the banquet hall.

"Now then. Let us continue." Looking over at the screen, Talan suddenly gasped and covered his mouth. "Oh, my word." Onscreen, the unmodified mines were being automatically navigated away from the hijacked mines by their built in safety system. The Jarmattu had figured this out, and was using the hijacked mines to push said unmodified mines out of the way, clearing a path to… the Görgamecj.

"What could they possibly be planning?" said a nervous General Gör. And then the Jarmattu's main guns rotated, turning toward the Görgamecj. "Ah-Haha, they-- They can't possibly hit us at this ran--" And with a few flashes of yellow followed by an equal number of thuds, Jarmattu's solid cannonshells did indeed hit them at that range. "E-EMERGENCY GESQTAM JUMP!" cried Gör. And jump they did. Leaving the mines dead in the water without a controller. The screen then went black.

Dessler looked up at the screen, a blank look on his face. Hyss immediately began stammering at an explanation. "Th-That coward, G-Gör, we'll-- we'll sort this out-- the military is under Talan and Zöllick's jurisdiction, I'll have a word with them. B-By the gods. This is… This is t-terrible, I-- I'll have, I'll send for a fleet immediately." "Teron ingenuity, as I said." Dessler was smiling again.

Aldous Kess and his men escorted Gelhen out of the hall. Out of the palace. "I'm TRULY… so sorry." slurred Gelhen, genuinely. "I didn't. know Desslerer wasn't joking. I ,wanted to be entertainining. to him" "I forgive you." said Kess, as they led him out of the upper class district. ",mMy friend… THIS has been a nice… walk, but we're." He paused to swallow, stopping himself from vomiting. "QUIIIIITE far from the palace.. Where are we even GOing???" "It's a surprise." answered Kess. "Ohhh," ohed Gelhen. "Excitingn." They led him into a north-south alley between two brick buildings, and two guards had him face the wall of the eastern one, on which a brown tarp had been set. "Heyy, what are--?"

BANG

But he was interrupted by a bullet passing through his head, spattering blue blood across the tarp. Kess switched out his gloves, tossing the gloves and gun he had used for the deed onto Gelhen's corpse, and donning new ones stowed in his pocket. "Burn this one. He's government. People will look for 'im." Those were orders Kess gave to his men as they took the tarp down from the wall and wrapped it around poor old Dotm Gelhen. "Aye, sir."

WORLD OF STRENGTH WITH HIS BLOOMS AZURE NOBLE IS THE LAND I CALL MY FATHERLAND THUS WE ALL SING THE JOYOUS SONG FOR THE GODS UP ABOVE WHO WILL BRING VICTORY TO OUR BROTHERS INTERSTELLAR: "ALL HAIL THE GARMILLONS GLORY BE TO US ALL FOREVER LONGER"

FIN

[pandoraimperatrix]

Wandering Worlds

DickKory | Core Four Centric | Cannon Divergence | Longfic

Summary:

The story begins with the death of Dick Grayson. His life taken by his own brother, Jason. Consumed by grief, Rachel gives in to despair, losing control, a portal opens, but from it no destroyer of words come through. Instead a man who looks just like him, how can he be? The Titans, and especially Kory has to mourn their fallen leader and deal with this stranger with a lot of issues of his own. After that, when everything seem to be settling, Kory is forced to return to Tamaran, but she wasn't as alone in her destiny as she thought, neither her family of choice was willing to let her go that easily. But politics in Tamaran can be as complicated as travelling across universes.

————————————–

Part Four – Voyagers

Chapter Twenty-four – There is no other home but you

Entering Palagar Palace was like entering a time machine.

Instead of the rationed food they had been served in hiding due to the war, a sumptuous banquet was served, filling the room with rich smells Kory hadn’t been exposed to since childhood. She blinked back tears, forcing a smile as she sat at her place of honour. It was everything as it should had always been and nothing as it should be at all. Where was her mother’s hand to guide her? Where was her father kiss to bless her? And if that ideal of life was truly lost, if it was all a lie... Then...

What was this all for?

Flowers covered the recent reconquested palace’s main hall from walls to floor and high born Tamaraneans in their silks and jewellery chatted and danced under the torches’ golden light that giving their various shades of deep brown and copperish skins and ethereal dewy aura. The whole scene weighted Kory’s heart with nostalgia, it was like if Kory only blinked or waved her hand, everything would disappear.

READ ON AO3

Karras held her hand a little tighter and Kory turned her face to him, displaying what she wished looked like a besotted gaze to the masses. Her smile threatened to crack when she was met with his concerned green eyes, but she held fast her mask, annoyed that he couldn’t bother to do the same.

”I love Karras, he is my friend, I do not want to blow his head off,” she sing-songed internally.

Letting go of his hand to pick her goblet o zorkaberry whine, Kory took a sip of the bitter beverage. She would get used to it, even if she doubted that now, even if it took a thousand years, she would learn to to accept her destiny, she would find a way in her heart of hearts to love...

Love, she thought, lived in a shiny tower by the sea, stars and stars away. And there was where her daughter was going, no matter the cost.

“So it is true?” an ancient voice rose above the conversation across the table. “There are aliens amongst General Xoyan’g men?”

“It is,” Karras answer with a tired voice, he didn’t loathe the old man like Kory, he had even served at his Palace in Ellk’ir, but even him found the old man tiring “Lord Kimmus.”

“Absurd. How can we even trust these outsiders? Haven’t we learned nothing good can come from barbarians?”

Kory pretended to take another sip to hide her rolling eyes, from all the good people that died in the war, that old fucker Kimmus had to survive. Of course, the coward. Always too busy somewhere else when needed in battle, ever-present to demand advantages every time he thinks he can get away with it. Kory always despised him, but her father went to Okaara with him, and always made clear that she should be respectful, didn’t matter if she felt there was nothing to be respectful of.

“Where these aliens come from?” Kory asked, ignoring the xenophobic man and pressing for information since the presence of outsiders within their army was another thing Karras had found not worth of mentioning to her.

“I love Karras, he is my friend, we will marry to save Tamaran and I will not break his neck on our honeymoon,” she sanged internally a little louder.

“I’m not entirely sure, my lady,” Karras answered, “they seem to have suffered a great trauma and do not remember and the language is not one Xoyan’g is familiar with...”

Kory frowned, horrified at the feeling she might agree with a man she loathed but unable to help herself.

“Karras, how can Xoyan’g let them into his army? They might as well be spies!”

Karras’ face fell livid and she could see the eyes of every single noble men and woman on them. So much for their united front.

“Or, they can be Tamaraneans,” he paused for effect, “or from allied peoples, meddled beyond recognition by Psions. We do not know,” he paused again, this time to chug the rest of his drink. “But the fact is, my lady… We take all the help we get. You’ve been distant for a while, and might be under the impression that we still have, within out battalions, the quantities that your father, the late king, had… We do not.”

Kory felt the ends of her locs sizzling, the nerve he had of being condescending when the reason she wasn’t up to par with the information was because her dearest fiancé wasn’t sharing.

“My father, the King,” she reminded him and everyone that might be listening and everyone was listening, “lost his crown due to outside meddling. Kommander would never have usurpe6the crown if she didn’t have been aided by the Citatel and their Gordanian trash. And now you say you are accepting aliens in our armies and you think I’d not protest? You are out of your mind.”

Karras looked like he was singing internally to himself too. But Kory could urge herself to feel not even a drop of regret. Saving her life and protecting her secret were not favours. She was his Queen by right, and it was time for him to remember that.

“I agree with the Princess,” she heard someone say.

“I understand your worries, my love,” Karras said stiffly and then he turned to their court, “all of our worries. But we have yet to find reason to distrust the loyalty of these friendly outsiders. Xoyan’g said they have been paramount to his success in the reconquest of the southern kingdoms.”

“So what?” Kory continued filled with righteous anger, “If nothing he should be ashamed to need such help. This is ridiculous, it’s like he’s just waiting to be surprised when the snake egg, he’s so comfortably sitting on, crack and bite his ass.”

Laughter spread across the table with people slapping it and making the plates shake and glasses spill.

“She’s very much her father’s daughter, my son,” Kinnus said in a disgusting tone, “good luck taming this wildcat.”

Karras sighed and signed for his cup to be refilled. Kory rolled her eyes, this time not bothering hiding it.

“You’ll have time to take your worries directly to General Xoyan’g, my darling, he and his men promised to join us until the end of the night.”

Kory threw to Karras what could only be a condescending smile and busied herself with her food, if she was grateful for one thing, was to be able to eat Tamaranean food again. It took her so long to get used to Earth’s flavours, even when she didn’t have any memory of her planet of who she really was, her stomachs turned in sight of food… And being stuck in East Europe in those first days didn’t help either. The mere idea of being forced to eat beets and cabbage brought back nightmares.

And if she was successful, Kory would never have the opportunity to introduce her daughter to her favourite traditional dishes. Her baby would never have the joy of sharing glorg with her friends at Okaara after a hard day of training or sucking on sputflinks right from the sentient trees.

She would never remember of her mother saying how much she was loved before bed.

Kory’s hand shook, but the burst of imminent tears was interrupted when the cacophony of newcomers started filling the great hall.

“Oh, Xoyan’g is here,” she heard Karras saying, and joined to stand up with him, she trusted her hand forward, with her palm up, and he put his hand over hers as costume, she was still getting used of being touched my one of her own species, it was strange, too much information. She missed guessing, the mystery, she missed showing and being showed by her or her partner’s own volition. There is something more sincere on having the choice of making another know how one feels instead of automatically being robbed from the information by bodily chemical processes.

So, when she saw the aliens that accompanied the General, she pulled her hand away as if Karras’ skin burned hers.

Her old friend and now fiancé could never know of how she felt when she saw them, and especially the man wearing a high-ranking tamaranean armour, chestnut hair braided back like she had taught him to, and the same hazel eyes their daughter inherited.

---------

[Insert dramatic music]

So... It has been a while, so long that Titans got cancelled. I am angry and sad but not surprised

Fuck every single billionaire and every single leech that doesn’t work for the betterment of thee world and live of speculative capital.

Do not know when the new chapter comes, I’m between cities again, literally typing this from a hotel room while hungry, angry, frustrated and poor.

So, comment please, I need all the dopamine you can spare

Edit: My life is a little less chaotic now as things are falling in line I STILL NEED THEM DOPAMINE MOLECULES PLEASE INTERACT WITH MY WORK AND MEEEEEEE

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [2]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 10.3k 🤡

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"I still can't believe you actually said yes to him. What happened to love being a luxury for us, hm?" Subin teased, not letting you off the hook since she found out about the military strategist's bold invitation. That was surprising enough, but nothing shocked her more than your acceptance.

You sighed, tightening the bow of your hanbok before heading to the full-length mirror in your room to check your hair. "Oh, stop it. You know this is nothing more than a way to demonstrate our teamwork. Officer Song is a colleague, and we are simply taking the chance to network and show support for the union with Ruhon."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, you keep telling yourself that, unnie."

You truly didn’t want to think much of it.

You were already planning to attend the banquet anyway, with or without Mingi's invitation. As one of the more senior and recognised royal physicians in the palace, your attendance at these events was mostly expected. While his attempts to spend time with you hadn't gone unnoticed, you treated them as nothing but friendly gestures.

As you finished adjusting your hanbok, you resolved to keep things strictly professional. Whatever he thought might happen, you would make it clear that you were unavailable. You would convince him to give up, knowing his efforts would only be in vain.

Right, let's get this over with.

The evening of the banquet arrived, and the palace buzzed with activity. Lanterns illuminated the courtyards, and the air was filled with music and laughter. Excitement filled you as you stepped out of the female physicians' quarters to find the tall and dashing military strategist already waiting. He wore a grand hanbok, a stark contrast to his usual training clothes. His hair was slicked back, and his hands were clasped behind his back as he paced, eyes fixed on the ground.

You took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat. After all, you were only human, and this was a stunning man before you. But you had to remind yourself that nothing was ever going to happen between you two and that you had only agreed to attend the event with him as a gesture of camaraderie.

Nothing more, nothing less.

After composing yourself, you cleared your throat and called out, "Officer Song, you really didn't have to come all the way here. I could have just met you at the grand hall along with everyone else."

Mingi perked up, his heart thundering at the sound of your voice. When he turned to face you, his breath momentarily caught at the sight of you so dressed up. You were always beautiful to him, but tonight, you were even more enchanting.

He bowed slightly and stepped closer. "You look… perfect, my lady."

You blinked rapidly, hoping the blush you felt wasn’t obvious on your face. He continued, "Of course, I had to come here. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t? More importantly, you're not just anyone else to me, Royal Physician Ahn. You're my—"

Not wanting to hear the rest, you flashed a large, courteous smile. "Ah, we should probably head over if we don't want to be late. Let us go, Officer Song," you said, cutting him off. His smile faltered slightly before he nodded. "R-right, let us."

Throughout the night, the military strategist remained faithfully by your side. Unfortunately, his attentive gestures did not go unnoticed by those around you, leaving you flustered and repeatedly clarifying that you were merely colleagues.

"Really, Royal Physician Ahn? That's a shame, you two would make a beautiful couple," teased Lady Park. You sputtered, choking on your drink. She panicked and reached over to pat you on the back, glancing at a very concerned Mingi who was conversing with the general. With a reassuring smile, she mouthed, "I'll take care of her."

Officer Song resisted rolling his eyes as Seonghwa smiled dreamily at his adorable wife, not realising he was just as guilty of it—if only he knew he looked the same whenever you were around.

"I-I'm fine. Thank you, Lady Park. But I assure you, nothing can happen between us. It is forbidden; I am a woman of the palace."

The pregnant woman grinned in response. "So, are you saying that if you weren't a palace woman, you definitely would have given General Officer Song a chance?"

You sighed, offering her a half-hearted smile. "There's no use pondering that, my lady. It's impossible," you whispered the last part.

She softened, touching your shoulder gently. "Nothing is impossible if only you desire it hard enough, my dear."

Your heart warmed at her words, but you knew better than to believe them. With an appreciative nod, you gestured to her baby bump. "So, how has pregnancy been treating you, my lady?" you asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory. You were afraid of temptations and could not afford to give in to any of them.

The conversation with Lady Park was cut short when a certain fourth prince appeared behind her, hesitantly taking an uncertain step forward. You blinked, trying not to stare too obviously, but she noticed your eyes shifting toward something over her shoulder.

With furrowed brows, she wondered aloud, "Just what are you looking at, Royal Physician Ahn?" She turned and froze upon locking eyes with Prince Yeosang. As she moved to bow, he hurriedly reached out to stop her, gently holding her by her forearms.

"It's been a while, my lady. Would you… care to catch up?" he asked.

She bit her lip, turning to meet her husband's warm gaze. Seonghwa nodded, signalling that the decision was up to her, and she excused herself to speak with her friend. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the prince's one-sided feelings for Lady Park persisted. Everyone in Joseon had heard of His Highness' not-so-subtle advances back then. The gossip at that time was quite juicy, but it was good to see him accepting defeat gracefully. The once bratty fourth prince had disappeared; it seemed the general's wife truly had a strong hold on his heart, changing him for the better even with her firm rejection.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your chaperone reappeared by your side. You weren't sure how to feel around the gentle giant. His presence was both comforting and unnerving.

"Everything alright?" Mingi asked softly, concern evident in his eyes.

"Yes, everything is fine," you replied, smiling up at him. "Just a bit of palace drama."

He chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Palace drama indeed. Shall we continue to mingle, or would you like to take a break?"

You appreciated his attentiveness, but the whirlwind of emotions from the evening had left you feeling somewhat drained. "A break sounds nice," you admitted.

Mingi beckoned for you to follow and you did, allowing him to lead you to a quieter corner of the grand hall. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. The evening was proving to be far more eventful than you had anticipated, and you knew you had to stay vigilant against his allurements that seemed to be lurking at every turn.

As you both reached a more secluded area, he quickly said, "Wait here, I'll get you something to drink."

You sighed, reaching for his arm. "You don't have to do that, Officer Song. I don't want anyone to misunderstand. I've been meaning to tell you: there's nothing between us, and there never will be."

He paused, turning to face you properly. You looked away almost immediately, guilt gnawing at you as you caught a glimpse of the hurt reflected in his eyes. A heavy silence settled between you, each struggling to collect your thoughts.

Mingi knew winning your heart wouldn't be easy, but the early rejection still stung deeply. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but steady. "I understand your concerns, truly. But my intentions are genuine. I'm sorry if I've caused you any discomfort or misunderstanding. I just want you to know how much I care."

You bit your lip, the sincerity in his words making it even harder. "I appreciate your honesty, but I have my duties and responsibilities. My life is here in the palace, and I can't afford distractions."

He nodded slowly, taking a step back to give you space. "I respect your dedication. I just… before I let you go, there's one thing I need to know. We've actually met each other years ago. Did you… did you remember me when you saw me again?"

Your expression remained unreadable as you mustered a response. After what felt like an eternity, with the military strategist standing with bated breath and his heart pounding in his ears, you finally met his eyes and softly said, "No, I'm afraid don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry, Officer Song…"

His heart sank. "Oh."

The weight of his disappointment hung in the air. He took a step back, struggling to mask the hurt that flashed across his face. He had held onto the hope that perhaps, even faintly, you had remembered him. That tiny hope had been a beacon for him, a justification for his persistence. But now, it seemed all for naught.

What if His Majesty had been right?

"That's… that's okay," he finally said, forcing a weak smile. "I must have been mistaken."

You nodded, the guilt intensifying as you watched him grapple with his emotions. "I'm really sorry. Perhaps you have."

Except that was a complete lie.

You remembered. In truth, you had never forgotten. How could you? To have seen Song Mingi in person was to understand that he wasn't someone easy to forget, even when pale and sickly on his deathbed. He was undeniably gorgeous. Beyond his appearance and physique, his warm gaze, soft touch, and sweet words lingered in your memory, impossible to leave behind.

You'd recognised him since day one.

It took everything in you to maintain a composed façade and steady your racing heart as you locked eyes with the military strategist for the first time in years. Before you stood a man, well and strong, embodying everything you had ever wanted.

But you had to quell your desires, silence your dreams, and dismiss any thoughts of the impossible. Years had passed, and you had assumed he was married by now. Later, you discovered he wasn't.

Yet, it changed nothing.

You were now a palace woman, and that sealed the hopelessness of your situation. So you chose to pretend, to feign ignorance of your shared past. It was for the best—for him and for you.

Sometimes, you wondered if you were trying to convince him or yourself more. It was the very reason you dreaded seeing him; not out of dislike or annoyance, but because you were just as captivated by him as he was by you. Had you been an ordinary physician outside the palace walls, you would have accepted his love in a heartbeat.

But things were different now.

Rules were rules.

You and General Officer Song were a beautiful impossibility, and you had to do everything to keep it that way.

Yet, his constant presence was a quiet storm, eroding your resolve. Every gentle gesture, each attempt to show he could protect and cherish you, made it increasingly difficult. His persistence, so tender and genuine, weakened your defences, and you were frightened—terrified, even—of the feelings blooming within you.

Why must he be so cruel?

His kindness, his sincerity, his unwavering dedication—they all tugged at your heartstrings, weakening your defenses. Every time he appeared with that soft smile, every time he looked at you with those earnest eyes, it became increasingly difficult to remember why you had to keep him at arm's length.

And tonight, standing in the secluded corner of the grand hall, facing the man you had spent years trying to forget, you felt your carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. The reality of your situation pressed heavily on you, a constant reminder of the boundaries that could not be crossed.

Song Mingi, with his genuine concern and quiet strength, embodied everything you had ever wanted but could never have. His mere presence was a cruel reminder of what could have been in another life, another world. A world where you were free to love him without consequence.

But you weren't in that world. You were here, bound by duty and rules that were impossible to break. So you swallowed your feelings, pushed down the burgeoning hope, and forced yourself to remember the impossible nature of your situation.

Because letting yourself love him—truly, deeply love him—would only lead to heartache for you both. And you couldn't bear the thought of causing him any more pain than you already have.

You sighed, swallowing the lump forming in your throat as you gazed up at him solemnly. "I, uh… I'm feeling rather tired. I shall retire to my quarters for the night. Thank you for accompanying me tonight, Officer Song. It truly is a joy to befriend Lady Park. It's also wonderful to finally see Joseon and Ruhon getting along well. It seems like things are really looking up for us."

But they weren't.

Both of you thought it, but neither dared to say it aloud.

You smiled courteously, bowing respectfully. "Goodnight, Officer Song. I hope you enjoy the rest of the banquet with your friends."

Just as you turned to leave, he reached out an arm to stop you, though not touching you. Damn it. Damn him and his gentlemanly gestures. "Wait, my lady. Please allow me to escort you back—"

You bowed again, cutting him off, afraid to hear the rest of it. "Please enjoy the rest of the banquet."

With that, you left, leaving behind a strong man staring longingly after you like a lovesick puppy. You didn't have the courage to spare a final glance at him, knowing another look at his pleading eyes would make you give in, and you couldn't have that. Not now. Not ever. You needed to put an end to this.

As you walked away, your heart ached with every step. The distance between you and Mingi grew, but the weight of your emotions only became heavier. The grand hall's festive atmosphere faded into the background as you focused on maintaining your resolve.

Arriving back at the female physician's quarters, you couldn't summon the energy to put on yet another fake smile for Subin. Your friend waited excitedly for you by the entrance, but her beam faltered as she registered the expression on your face.

"You told him to stop, didn't you?" she asked softly, reaching over to grab your hand.

You nodded wordlessly, too weary to say anything more. Subin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into your room, murmuring, "It'll be okay… I'm here."

You broke into a tiny smile, leaning into her hold appreciatively. Her warmth and understanding were a balm to your frayed nerves. As you settled into the familiar comfort of your quarters, the weight of the evening began to lift, if only slightly.

Subin's presence was a reminder that you weren't alone, even in your struggle to keep your feelings at bay. She helped you sit down, then knelt beside you, her eyes filled with concern and compassion.

"I know it's hard," she said gently, "but you're strong. You did what you had to do."

You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned back against the wall. "I just... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I just wish things were different, you know?"

She nodded, squeezing your hand. "I know, unnie. But remember, you're not alone in this. We'll get through it together. Besides, you said it yourself: we have each other, and we have our duty. That's enough. It has to be."

Her words, though simple, offered a small measure of solace. You knew the path ahead would be challenging and that things with the military strategist would never be the same again, but with her by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope.

"Trust me, you'll get over it in no time."

God, I sure hope so.

Meanwhile, Mingi did his best to keep it together for the rest of the event. After all, you had told him to enjoy it with his friends, so he did—or at least he tried his hardest. Feigning a huge grin, he returned to General Park and Royal Secretary Choi's side, casually mentioning that you had retired early. He didn’t want to burden them with his love troubles; the last thing he wanted was their pity. He didn't need to feel any worse than he already did.

Despite having braced himself for the possibility of hearing those words, the pain of your rejection cut deep. "There's nothing between us, and there never will be." Those words echoed in his mind like a broken record as he lay in bed that night, unable to find solace in sleep. He was caught between the urge to fight harder for you and the need to honour your wishes.

Yet, he couldn't shake the image of your face when he asked if you remembered him. The fleeting look of conflict troubled him deeply. Why did you seem so torn? Why did you hesitate? Could you have been lying? If so, why hide the truth? He needed answers. Whether or not you would ever be his, he needed to know them.

Mingi resolved to seek those answers, slowly and carefully. In the process, he hoped to soften your seemingly hardened heart, guarded by steel walls that showed cracks despite your efforts to conceal them. He might have been a fool most of the time, but his attentiveness had never been keener than now. All for you. Because he believed fate must have brought you back into his life for a reason.

"You good, hyung?" Junghoon asked, feeling his mentor shift on the bed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

The older man nodded despite the internal turmoil within him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go to sleep already, young man."

"I'm trying... if only you'd stop moving."

Heaving a sigh, Mingi turned to face his apprentice. "Hey, what do you think it means when a woman tells you to stop pursuing her but looks really sad while saying it?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. There goes my sleep, he thought as he pushed himself up into a seated position, legs folded and hands intertwined. "Alright, sit your dumbass up. Time for Love Lessons for Dummies 101."

"Are you sure this is going to work? She's not—" Mingi's words were cut off by his apprentice, who mocked him with air quotes. "'Not like other girls.' Yeah, yeah, I know. That's what every man says about his crush. Trust me, women are all the same. Nothing melts their hearts more than an attentive and caring man. Now go before she's already out for her lunch break."

Junghoon had finally convinced his mentor to see his dream girl after avoiding the royal medical hall for nearly a week, giving you the space you needed. But Mingi knew that to win your heart, he couldn’t stay away. He'd have to approach gently and slowly.

With a handmade lunchbox in hand, the military strategist's first mission was to show you he wasn’t bound by gender norms, relegating kitchen tasks only to women. He wanted to demonstrate what having a husband like him would be like. If you wished, he could drop by each day with lunch prepared just for you.

His heart pounded with anticipation when he arrived at the medical hall for the first time in what felt like forever. He had missed you like crazy, each day without seeing you dragging on like a year. As he stepped inside and approached the counter, confusion set in when you were nowhere in sight. Could you have gone out with the first batch of royal physicians for your lunch break? That was odd; you always preferred the second batch.

"Good day, Officer Song. Are you injured or feeling unwell?" one of your colleagues asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Mingi blinked and cleared his throat. "N-no, I'm here for Royal Physician Ahn. Is she already out for lunch?"

Your colleague suppressed a knowing grin, pursing her lips before answering, "She's not. She hasn't been in for a few days now. She's been down with food poisoning ever since attending the royal banquet with you."

Mingi felt his heart sink.

He muttered a quick thanks and dashed out, his feet moving automatically towards the female physicians' quarters. Nothing else mattered; he needed to see you, to know you were okay, to apologise for not taking better care of you that night.

Meanwhile, you pressed your face into your pillow, curling into a ball and clutching the comforter around you as another stab of pain hit your stomach. The discomfort was unbearable, making it impossible to go to work today. Seeing your agony, the head of the royal physicians had allowed you a day or two to feel better before returning to the royal medical hall.

As the pain subsided and you slowly felt a wave of drowsiness enveloping you, an unusual rustle from outside alerted you. Someone was there. But who? Everyone else should be at work. Was it Subin coming to check on you? Your thoughts were interrupted when your breath hitched, realising a man's silhouette was standing by your room entrance through the paper walls.

What fool would dare come here, a place meant only for women? Not even eunuchs were allowed in, let alone a well-built man of his stature. Was it a prison escapee? Lord knows what he'd do if he found you alone. Before you could attempt to get up and go someplace safe, another sharp pain hit, and the wince you let out was inevitable. Unfortunately, the man heard you and immediately reached to pull the doors open.

As the door slid open, your heart raced, fear gripping you as you braced for the worst. But instead of a stranger, you saw Mingi's concerned face. His eyes widened in alarm as he rushed to your side.

"Physician Ahn, are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

"O-Officer Song? What in the world are you doing here?" you managed to say between breaths, the pain still lingering.

"I heard you were sick. I had to make sure you were okay," he replied, his voice softening as he knelt beside your bed.

The concern in his eyes was genuine, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, a small part of you felt relieved. "You're not supposed to... you shouldn't be here," you whispered, the rules and propriety still at the forefront of your mind.

"I know, but I couldn't stay away," he said, gently placing a hand on your arm. "I'm here to make up for my mistake. I should have been more attentive. This is all my fault."

You frowned, pushing yourself up to a sitting position as the pain subsided again. "What do you mean by that? How is any of this your fault? This has nothing to do with you."

He sighed. "Nonsense. If only I’d been more attentive to what they served you at the banquet, you wouldn’t have been suffering from food poisoning this badly."

"F-food poisoning...? Who told you that?" you asked, already having a clue. He twiddled his fingers nervously. "One of your colleagues. I was at the medical hall earlier and you weren’t there. She told me you were sick, and I came here as fast as I could..."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you were exasperated at your friends’ mischievousness. They hadn’t let you live it down since learning you had gone to the royal banquet with the military strategist, though they didn’t know what had transpired between you two or how the night had ended. The teasing was one thing, but you didn’t think they’d actually go this far. But of course, they probably didn’t think this fool would actually come here himself instead of sending a court lady to check on you.

You sighed. "I don't have food poisoning… it's just that time of the month. You know, the women thing…" His eyes widened in horror, and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, muttering, "Gosh, why'd she lie about this?"

You pulled your comforter close as another cramp hit. "Listen, I'm not in the mood to talk right now. Besides, you really shouldn't be here. I appreciate you checking on me, but you should leave. We'd both be in huge trouble if someone saw you here."

He nodded quickly, gesturing to the bag he had brought with him. "Right, I-I'll leave immediately. These are for you, by the way. I made them myself. Please enjoy them when you're feeling hungry."

Usually, you would have melted at that, but you really needed him gone. "Yes, thank you."

As if the world had something against you, just as the military strategist neared the door, another familiar silhouette appeared at the entrance. "Are you feeling any better, my dear? I've come with some heat packs to soothe the cramps," the head of the royal physicians called out, her hands reaching for the door handle.

Mingi froze, and you panicked, all menstrual pain forgotten as you jumped out of bed and rushed towards him, exclaiming loudly, "I'm feeling much better, Head Physician Seo! Thank you for your concern. Would you give me a minute? I'm not properly dressed."

You sighed in relief when that worked like a charm as she removed her hand from the door handle and took a step back. "Oh, my apologies. Of course, let me know when you're ready."

Scanning the room in alarm, you hurried to the cabinet that usually held your mattress, pillows, and comforters when you weren't sleeping, now empty. "Get in here, quick!" you whispered urgently. He obeyed, moving as stealthily as he could to avoid making a sound and raising suspicion.

Oh god, can things get any worse today?

After shooting him a stern look and pressing your pointer finger against your lips to signal a firm 'be quiet,' you shut the cabinet doors and took a deep breath. Plastering on a huge smile, you opened the door for your superior, letting her in. She smiled warmly, handing you the heat packs she'd brought. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard someone in here earlier."

Your breath caught as you noticed Mingi's bag still by your bed. Quickly moving to conceal it with your hanbok, you feigned innocence. "Huh, really? That's weird. It's only me. I'm sure it's nothing."

She shrugged and nodded. "You're probably right. I guess all the lack of sleep must be getting to me. Well then, it’s good to see you doing better. I shall get back to work then."

You mustered a fake laugh. "That must be it, ma'am. Thank you so much for the heat packs. I really appreciate it."

She patted your cheeks softly. "Anything for my best physician. Hope to see you back at work tomorrow."

You nodded, waving goodbye as she left. As you shut the door, exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you sank to your knees. The cabinet doors creaked open as the tall man emerged, muttering, "Phew, that was close—"

As if jinxing it, your superior returned. "Oh yes, my dear!" she called through the door.

Rushing up to Mingi, you smacked a palm over his mouth to shut him up as you answered her, "Yes, ma'am?"

She chuckled. "I heard that General Officer Song of yours dropped by the medical hall earlier, seemingly with lunch prepared for you. Don't be so hard on him, hm? I know we’re not allowed to love, but he's a sweet guy. At least be a friend to him. We’re still allowed to have friends, you know? Please don’t deprive yourself of that right too."

You swallowed, meeting Mingi’s eyes as they softened at your pained expression. "I understand. Thank you, ma'am."

Finally, she left for good this time. Eyes locked with his, you pondered her words. Could you really be friends with this man? Just... friends? Perhaps that was all you could ever be.

In that moment of closeness, you became acutely aware of your position, your hand still covering his mouth, his hands gently supporting you on your back. The atmosphere crackled with tension until it was broken by the rumble of his stomach. Flustered, you withdrew, your heart racing.

What in the world just happened...?

With a nervous bite of your lip, you dared to break the silence. "You uhh... haven't eaten either, have you?"

He shook his head bashfully, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and longing. "No, I haven't."

Oh, to hell with it.

You gestured towards the lunch he had brought. "Join me then."

Things had obviously shifted between you since then, and it did not go unnoticed by those around you. General Officer Song started coming by the medical hall at least once a week, no longer pretending to have an injury but simply to share lunch with you.

As friends.

That was what you told your friends, colleagues and every other palace staff whenever they tried to tease you. Yes, friends. That was all there was to it. All you both were ever going to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Just friends. Good friends. That was all you would allow… all you were allowed, really.

But you were happy with it. You had to be. It wasn't something you had a say in.

This was your life.

Mingi's visits became an oddly comforting routine. Every week, he would show up with a handmade lunch, and you would sit together, talking and laughing. The bond between you grew stronger, and although you constantly reminded yourself that you were just friends, there was an undeniable warmth in your interactions.

One afternoon, after the military strategist had patiently waited for you to finish caring for a patient, the two of you shared lunch in a quiet corner of the medical hall. He looked at you with a soft, contemplative expression. "You know," he began, "the first time I saw you, I thought you were the most admirable woman to exist. I'm glad I wasn't wrong. You really are an angel sent by the heavens."

You felt a flutter in your chest but quickly suppressed it, grinning softly. "Am I really? You know I'm not the only female physician around. The others are just as admirable."

Yes, but they're not you.

He nodded, though his eyes held a depth of emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "I suppose you're right," he said gently.

Not wanting to dwell on the serious atmosphere, you playfully nudged him on the shoulder. "Of course I am. I'm always right. And I bet you were a complete crybaby the day we first met, wailing like a child as you received treatment."

He scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically and feigning offence. "I was not. I'll have you know I was the most courageous soldier on site that day."

Brave enough to ask you out.

"Sure you were," you mocked sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Your heart warmed internally because he was right. You remembered how calm he was despite the pain he endured. But he could never know you remembered. Never. That would complicate things too much, and you didn't need that. Not now, not ever.

Things were perfect as they were.

Or were they?

Irked by your teasing, he swiftly reached out to snatch a piece of dumpling—your favourite—from your lunchbox and stuffed it into his mouth as revenge. You let out a surprised yelp, smacking him on the arm. "Wha—hey! That was my last piece! Give it back, Song Mingi!" Your laughter filled the space as you wrestled with him, his eyes disappearing into adorable slits as he hurriedly chewed on the dumpling, annoying you with it. He chortled, speaking through his mouth full, "Ha! That's what you get!"

The fun was abruptly cut short when the head of the royal physicians appeared at the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone light but curious.

You sputtered and shook your head, immediately pushing yourself off the tall man. "Absolutely not, ma'am. He was just about to leave. We're done eating," you said, glaring playfully at Mingi as he swallowed the last of your dumpling.

The military strategist bowed respectfully to the elderly woman, seizing the opportunity to escape your wrath. "I apologise for taking up so much of Royal Physician Ahn's time. I'll leave at once," he said.

She shook her head, smiling warmly. "Don't apologise. I'm not sure I've seen Physician Ahn this happy in a good while. Please stay for a bit more if you wish, Officer Song."

Both your cheeks grew warm at her words as Mingi scrambled to pack up his belongings and leave, clearly shy. "Thank you, ma'am, but I really shouldn't. Besides, I have training to attend as well."

With a final bow to you both, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing from the sudden interruption and the unexpected compliment from your superior.

Head Physician Seo approached you, a knowing smile on her face. "You and General Officer Song seem really close. Are you sure there's nothing more going on?"

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "We're good friends. That's all."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, as long as you're happy. I'm glad you took my advice and allowed him in."

You nodded, reaffirming your own belief. "You were right, it's nice to have someone who genuinely understands and cares."

In the back of your mind, you couldn't ignore the ache of wanting something more, but you reminded yourself that this was your reality. And so, you continued to cherish the time spent with him, finding solace in the friendship that had blossomed between you.

As the weeks turned into months, the boundaries of your friendship were constantly tested. Every shared smile, every lingering glance, and every comforting touch made it harder to maintain the illusion. Deep down, you both knew what you had was special, even if you could never openly acknowledge it.

Despite the constraints, you found happiness in the moments you shared. Each lunch, each conversation, and each quiet moment of understanding reinforced the bond between you. The stolen glances when no one was looking, the way he would subtly take care of you, and the warmth that filled your heart when he was near—it all painted a picture of a love that couldn't be spoken.

In the silence of the night, when you lay awake thinking about him, you allowed yourself to dream of a different life. A life where societal expectations didn't dictate your choices, and you could be free to express your true feelings. But for now, those dreams remained just that—dreams.

You took comfort in the friendship that had become an integral part of your life. It was a bittersweet reality, but one you had come to accept. And in those precious moments you shared, you found a contentment that made the impossible feel almost within reach.

Meanwhile, Mingi found himself growing more hopeful with every step closer to you. Though it hurt to hear you remind everyone that what you shared was merely friendship, he was almost certain you returned his feelings. Yet, he didn’t want to make assumptions; he needed to hear it from you. He was prepared to wait a long time, even forever, as long as you continued to allow him to be near you. This closeness was already more than he had ever hoped for, and a part of him had accepted that this might be the way things were meant to be.

Being friends was better than nothing.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Junghoon smirked before letting out a whine as his mentor hit him on the back.

"Shut up, kid. What do you know about love anyway? Taking advice from you nearly got me and her in trouble," Mingi grumbled.

The apprentice rolled his eyes, rubbing his back. "Oh, please, don't act like it didn't help you get close to her. I dare you to say you didn’t enjoy having her pressed up against you that day, keeping your mouth shut with her hand, all alone in her room—"

Mingi slapped a hand over the younger man’s mouth, eyes wide and face burning with embarrassment. "If you don't shut your trap right now, I'll tell His Majesty you’d like to quit and join the eunuchs."

That was all it took to silence Junghoon.

Truthfully, the apprentice was right, being close to you had made Mingi greedy for your affections. He often wondered what it would be like to have you willingly run into his arms. But the military strategist knew that was probably as far as he would ever get. Friends were not meant to be any closer than that, and he had come to accept it. If only you would stop making things more difficult.

One day, a soldier was seriously injured during training due to faulty weapons, and the royal medical hall was notified. You appeared at the training grounds with Subin beside you not long after, slightly out of breath as your eyes searched hastily for something or… someone. When you didn’t find who you were looking for, you blurted out, "Where's Officer Song? Is he okay?"

The soldiers greeting you furrowed their brows in confusion. "Officer Song…? Yes, he's fine. It's not him who got injured. Did someone tell you that by mistake?"

You sputtered messily, flustered for giving yourself away, while your childhood friend suppressed her giggle beside you. "O-oh, no... I just... I assumed it was him since he gets injured nearly every week. Never mind that, please take us to the injured soldier."

"Yes, my lady. Come with me."

Quickly, you followed the man, eyes glued to his back, not wanting to catch any knowing glances thrown your way. Unbeknownst to you, Song Mingi was hidden by a stand and had heard everything, struggling to keep the smile off his face at your concern. Were you thinking about him just as much as he thought about you? Were you worried about him? Did you... feel the same?

He desperately wanted to hear it from you but dared not ask the questions, fearing the answers you'd give him—answers that he knew would never reflect your true feelings. He watched you tend to the injured soldier from a distance, the smile lingering on his face, feeling a warmth that hadn’t been there before. Though it stung to always be reminded that what you shared was nothing more than friendship, he clung to the moments when your actions betrayed your words, showing a deeper, unspoken bond.

For now, he would be content with this.

Until he couldn't.

He arrived at the medical hall the next day with lunchboxes in hand, ready to spend time with you as usual. Instead, he was met with the devastating news that you had been dispatched to a plague-ridden village to provide assistance. His heart fell, and his world crumbled.

"I don't understand. What do you mean she's gone, my King? She was just here yesterday."

"Forget her, Officer Song. I told you it's impossible to be with her," said the ruler, rubbing a hand on his temple. "She volunteered to go without hesitation. I think you have your answer loud and clear. And as much I hate to say this, we're not sure she will return from this trip. Most physicians going on such missions are like soldiers going to war; they risk their lives and could be gone for months or even years. You deserve someone who can stay by your side."

The King's words cut deep, but Mingi's mind was a whirlwind of worry and despair. The thought of you in danger, far away, made it hard for him to breathe. The idea of losing you, of not knowing if you were safe or if you would ever come back, was unbearable.

"Where is this village, Your Majesty?"

The elderly man sighed deeply, shaking his head. "What will it take for you to give up? You'll only end up in pain, as if you haven't already been in enough pain. She has denied all your attempts from the start. Why do you do this to yourself, hm?"

Officer Song clenched his fists, his voice trembling with emotion. "Because love isn't about possession. Love is unconditional. I don't care if she will never accept my love in this life; I will continue to be there for her, to protect and care for her as long as I am alive. I'll be damned if I let her face all that danger on her own. So, I'm asking again, Your Majesty, where exactly is this village?"

The desperation in his voice was palpable, the rawness of his love laid bare. He would do anything, go anywhere, to ensure your safety. For the military strategist, there was no greater purpose than being there for you, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, you struggled to keep yourself together as you arrived at the terror-stricken village. The place had been overtaken by a sudden, rapidly spreading disease, claiming lives at a frightening pace. Violently woken in the middle of the night by Head Physician Seo, you joined the royal physicians gathered in the main hall to hear the grim news. Guri, the very village where you and Subin had lost everything, was now cursed with another wave of illness, intent on wiping out the population and destroying families again.

But you were stronger now.

You would rather die trying than let more innocent villagers endure what you did all those years ago. This time, you were capable of saving lives. Without a second thought, you and your friend volunteered to go. It wasn't until you were in the carriage that you remembered a certain Officer Song. Crestfallen, you realised that perhaps this was all for the best. Maybe, with your absence, he could finally move on and find someone with whom he could have a future, instead of being held back by you.

And you... you would be doing the very thing you had trained for all your life. There was no time to dwell on matters of the heart.

Forget him, lives are at stake.

As you arrived in Guri, the sight was both familiar and heartbreaking. The streets were eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of distant weeping or the hollow coughs of the afflicted. You, Subin, and the rest of the royal physicians immediately set to work; assessing the situation and organising the sick villagers for treatment.

"Help my mother, please!"

"It hurts, make it stop!"

"I don't want to die yet... I'm scared."

Doing your best to calm the terrified villagers, your mind was a whirlwind of medical procedures and strategies to contain the spread. Every moment was a battle against time, a race to save as many lives as possible. But amidst the chaos, thoughts of Mingi lingered at the edge of your mind. His gummy smile, his stupidly cute laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you—they all haunted you, a bittersweet reminder of what you had left behind.

Sometimes, it felt like those thoughts of him were the only thing keeping you going. Nearly a week had passed, and the situation had only slightly improved. With minimal sleep and just enough food to keep you alive, you worked tirelessly to tend to the sick. All the while, you wished you had a certain tall, handsome, and silly strategist to help lighten the constantly heavy atmosphere. At this point, you had lost count of the times you had imagined him by your side. The imagination could be so vivid, you were convinced you were hallucinating from the immense lack of rest.

"Need a hand, my lady?"

You froze, your actions of reaching for the top shelf of the makeshift clinic for some medicine halted at the familiar voice that had been haunting your well-being for the past week. Shit, were you hearing things now? Surely, it was the sleep deprivation acting up.

It can't be.

But then, you turned around, and there he was. General Officer Song, standing in the doorway, looking just as real and solid as ever. His eyes held a mix of concern and determination, and he was carrying a medical kit of his own.

"Mingi?" you whispered, almost afraid that speaking his name would shatter the illusion.

He stepped closer, a gentle smile on his face. "Yes, it's me. I'm here."

To his surprise, you were angry when you realised it was really him and not just a hallucination. "What… in the world are you doing here?" you questioned, your voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

His smile fell. "I came to help—"

You cut him off. "This isn't a joke, Song Mingi! This is serious. People are dying! You shouldn't be here just because you wish to keep pursuing me or anything stupid!"

His expression hardened with determination. "That's exactly why I'm here—because I can't lose you!"

You were left speechless, grappling with the rush of emotions at his sudden presence as well as his words. You felt conflicted, overwhelmed by the happiness that he was really here in the flesh, anger at his recklessness, fear for his survival, and frustration because you wanted so badly to run to him but knew you could not.

After what felt like an eternity, you sighed and tossed him a handkerchief. "Cover your nose and mouth with this at all times. Since you're here, make yourself useful. Get that bag of herbs and come with me. We have no time to waste."

As he opened his mouth to speak, you shot him a warning glare. "Save your breath. If you do not intend to work, please leave."

With a firm nod, he complied, grabbing the bag of herbs and following you into the chaos. Despite the tension, having him there added a strange sense of comfort and determination, and together, you continued to fight the disease that had plagued Guri.

The entire day passed by in a blur, just like the previous ones. There was not a moment of respite as you rushed around, with Mingi following you obediently, doing as he was told without question. Subin and your other colleagues raised surprised brows at his presence, but the situation left no room for teasing or questions.

At the end of the day, even when things had calmed down a little and most villagers were asleep, your work was far from done. You sat by the bed of a small child who was badly affected by the disease, your tired hands rinsing and wringing a towel repeatedly, wiping the sweat from his tiny head over and over to ensure his fever didn’t worsen. Mingi remained by your side, watching you care for the child.

Sensing your lethargic movements, he gently offered, "Here, let me do it." He reached out for the cloth, and you gave in, handing it to him. He took your spot, and you moved aside to make space for him on the bed, finally having the opportunity to take a good look at him since his arrival.

His face was etched with concern and determination, his usual playful demeanour replaced by a steadfast resolve. He worked with a quiet intensity, carefully tending to the child as if his life depended on it. The sight filled you with a mixture of emotions—gratitude, admiration, and a touch of sorrow.

"You shouldn't have come," you whispered, the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "But... thank you."

He glanced at you, his eyes softening. "I had to. I couldn’t just stay behind knowing you were here, facing this alone."

You sighed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I'm sorry for the harsh words I said. I was just... worried about you. I still am."

"And I was worried about you," he replied, his voice firm yet gentle. "We’re in this together now. We'll get through it."

Shaking your head, you squeezed your eyes shut. "It's not going to be easy. You don't understand… this, Mingi. This village was once my home. I was born here, and for the first few years of my life, I had a family. Until a plague, one similar to this one, broke out, taking my parents and siblings, leaving me with nothing," you explained, your voice breaking as you finally revealed your past.

He sat, shell-shocked, learning about your tragic history for the first time. He hadn’t known you had endured such a tough life, and it only strengthened his affection and admiration for you. You were even stronger than he had perceived.

"And that's why I was so afraid of seeing you here," you continued, your voice trembling. "Because I… I can't lose you too."

His breath hitched at your words, a moment of silence enveloping the room before he dared to cover your hand gently with his bigger one, whispering a soft, "Really?"

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and nodded, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, because you're a good friend to me."

He chuckled, nodding in defeat. "Right, of course." He knew better than to expect anything more by now. He was just glad you no longer pushed him away.

That was all that mattered.

The following days settled into the same gruelling routine, but your shoulders undeniably felt lighter with Mingi's presence. His unwavering support and the arrival of the physicians who had raised you and Subin provided much-needed relief. Their presence brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

On a slower day, the military strategist sat with one of the senior physicians, assisting with brewing medicine. Catching the tall man's eyes glued to your busy figure in the next room, Kyungsoo, who had been like an older brother to you, smiled and remarked, "Quite the workaholic, isn't she? Nothing can stop her from working. She's been that way for as long as we can all remember."

"She really is," Officer Song replied.

Through your mentors, he learned more about your childhood years. Kyungsoo shared stories of how hard you had worked and studied to get where you were, all to repay them for taking you in. Mingi now saw the depth of your dedication and the sacrifices you had made to become the renowned royal physician you are today.

As he watched you tirelessly care for the villagers, a realisation struck him. It might be selfish to want to tie you down in marriage just because he thought he loved you. If he truly loved you, he should let you do what you loved. You had fought so hard to achieve your dreams; how could he possibly take that away from you?

His heart ached as he finally understood the wisdom in His Majesty's words. Maybe you really were not meant to be, not in this life. Perhaps in the next, he thought to himself, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and sorrow.

For now, he would support you in the best way he could—by standing by your side, helping you save lives, and cherishing the moments you shared. Because that, he realised, was also a form of love.

You've won, my King. I yield.

You had somehow felt the distance Mingi seemed to be putting between you, no matter how minuscule. You were hyper-aware of him, always had been, so this change, despite how small and unnoticed by the rest, bothered you more than you cared to admit. Was he growing tired of this? Of you? Perhaps he was realising how impossible it was to reach you and was giving up.

And who could blame him, really?

He deserved to be free; free to love another, to love someone who could give him so much more, all the things you never could.

"Hey, everything okay?" Subin asked, noting how you had nearly disposed of a new bandage instead of a used one.

You snapped out of your thoughts, apologising for the mistake as you rubbed your eyes. "Oh, I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

She sighed, squeezing your shoulder. "It's Officer Song, isn't it?"

You stilled. "Huh? I-I don't know what you're talking about—"

She rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "Save it, unnie. I'm tired of hiding it from you. He's already received permission from His Majesty to pursue you. That's why he's been so bold in his attempts. If you feel the same way about him, then please, for the love of god, stop putting yourself and him through this nonsense any longer."

Your heart pounded as her words sank in. "Permission from His Majesty?" you echoed, disbelief and confusion in your voice.

She nodded firmly. "Yes, my dear friend. He's been allowed to court you on one condition—only if you willingly agree to it. That’s why he’s here, risking his life. He’s doing it all for you. If you care about him even a fraction of how much he cares about you, you need to let him know. This back-and-forth is tearing both of you apart."

You swallowed hard, grappling with the revelation. It felt as if a door had opened, one you had convinced yourself was forever locked.

"But Subin-ah... what if he realises I'm not worth the effort?" you whispered, voicing your deepest fear.

Her eyes softened. "That's not for you to decide. Let him make his own choices. If he’s here, fighting for you, it means you are worth everything to him. Don’t push him away because of your own insecurities. Give him—give yourself—a chance."

Before you could process her words, chaos erupted as sudden screams filled the air, panicked villagers running in all directions. You rushed outside to see what was happening, your heart pounding in your chest. Amid the commotion, you finally caught on to someone yelling, "Fire! Fire! There's a fire in the kitchen!"

Gasping, you spotted billowing black smoke rising from a hut at the back, where the kitchen was situated. Turning to Subin with wide eyes, you began, "I-isn't that where—"

She nodded before you could finish, confirming your fears. "Officer Song and Kyungsoo oppa were brewing medicine!"

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the kitchen, your mind racing. The heat and smoke intensified with each step closer. Villagers and fellow physicians frantically attempted to extinguish the flames with buckets of water, but the fire raged on.

"Kyungsoo oppa! Mingi-yah!" you shouted, your voice trembling with fear and urgency.

Amid the thick smoke, Kyungsoo stumbled out alone, coughing violently. You rushed to him, desperation gripping your heart. "O-oppa, where is he? Where's Song Mingi?!"

Pointing towards the kitchen, nearly engulfed in flames, the senior physician gasped, "That fool's still in there. He insists on saving the medicine. We need to get him out, now!"

Your heart pounded with dread. "I'll go!" But Kyungsoo grabbed your arm, panic in his eyes. "No, it's too dangerous—"

Ignoring his warning, you darted inside.

Your heart plummeted when you spotted Mingi foolishly attempting to salvage the pot of medicine. "Stop, you idiot! Leave it!" He froze at the sound of your voice, turning to see you. "What are you doing here? Get out, the place is falling apart!"

Rushing up to him, you desperately tugged on his arm. "Not without you!" Yielding to your urgency, he abandoned the medicine and turned to leave with you. But dread washed over him as he noticed the fragile beam above you, threatening to collapse at any moment. Time seemed to slow as he pushed you towards the exit just in time for the debris to crash down in front of him, trapping him inside.

Your cries echoed as you saw him trapped. "No!" He managed a weak smile, feeling the smoke filling his lungs. "I'm sorry, my lady." Tears streamed down your face as you screamed for help, men rushing to save him. Kyungsoo and Subin restrained you, their grip firm as you thrashed against their hold.

"It's okay, he'll be okay," they repeated, their assurances failing to ease the turmoil in your heart. When they finally emerged, carrying his unconscious body, relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by a profound sense of guilt and regret.

God, you were such a fool. How could you have been so blind to his importance in your life? Why did you take him for granted, making him wait for so long?

"Wake up, Song Mingi! Please, listen to me," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. "I remembered everything, okay? I never forgot about you, not for a single moment. I'm sorry for lying, for pushing you away. But I accept it now—I want to be with you. Please... don't leave me."

Amidst your sobs against his chest, you halted as you felt his hand tenderly stroking your head. Lifting your gaze to meet his, you found him smiling weakly down at you.

"Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words," he murmured softly.

"So, that's your secret, huh? Faking your own death to get the girl?" Junghoon quipped, wearing a mischievous grin. Mingi let out an exasperated sigh and playfully smacked the younger man on the back of the head. "Faked my death? I nearly died," he retorted.

Junghoon raised a sceptical brow. "Yes, but did you die though?"

"I swear to god, you rascal—" Mingi's fist hovered in the air threateningly until you appeared, hands on your hips.

"Excuse me, no violence is permitted in the medical hall. If you two want to settle this, take it to the training grounds," you scolded.

The military strategist turned to you with a pout, attempting to play innocent. "But, my angel, I brought you lunch."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright. What's Junghoonie doing here then?"

The apprentice eagerly showed you his sprained ankle. "I actually got hurt, noona. Unlike someone, I don't fake my injuries."

Before Mingi could retaliate, you quickly summoned a colleague to tend to Junghoon, then dragged your idiot away, much to his chagrin. "That's enough, you baby."

"Yes, I'm your baby."

A month had passed since the plague in the village was eradicated. It was after the fire, that you managed to find a quiet moment with Mingi and poured out your heart to him. To your surprise, he didn't immediately respond with joy.

"Are you sure this is what you truly want?" he had asked, his expression serious. "Because I could never ask you to choose me over your career if it's more important to you."

His words struck a chord deep within you, revealing the depth of his love and understanding. He wasn't seeking to possess you but to ensure your happiness, even if it meant letting you go.

In that moment, you realised that this man was worth loving, worth everything. He had waited patiently for years, only to ask you that question when he finally had you.

In response, you didn't need to speak. Your answer was a simple and direct kiss to his lips, conveying all your love, gratitude, and certainty in that one tender moment.

Upon your return from Guri, you promptly sought an audience with His Majesty. There, you expressed your desire to be with Mingi. Needless to say, the soft-hearted King who had been secretly rooting for you both did not take too long to agree.

Granting you the freedom to be courted by the military strategist, the King also bestowed his blessing for marriage, should you both deem it the right path. With a sense of relief, you exchanged grateful glances with your lover. It marked the beginning of a new chapter, brimming with hope and love, as you eagerly anticipated embarking on this journey together.

"I still can't believe you're meant to be the coolest and most renowned military strategist in all of Joseon. If only the people knew what an adorable little princess you could be," you chuckled, playfully feeding Mingi a spoonful of rice as he attempted to fashion you a new handkerchief, boasting about his newfound skills learned from his dressmaker friend.

"Oh wow, is that really how you thank your devoted future husband, who's putting all this effort into making something special for you?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he reached for another piece of cloth, determined to create something perfect for you.

You snickered mischievously. "Alright, princess, how about this? You handle the cooking and cleaning, and I'll be the queen of the castle, bringing home the gold. Deal?"

He stared at you, unamused. Leaning in, you stole a kiss from his lips, and in that moment, his resistance melted away. "Ugh fine, I suppose that doesn't sound too bad," he admitted with a playful sigh.

Anything for you, my angel.

You couldn't contain your laughter at his surrender, eagerly returning his affection as he leaned in for another kiss.

Sometimes, it's astonishing how, despite years of separation, no matter how distant you've become or how impossible it seemed to reunite, you always find each other again. It's as if your paths were meant to intersect once more, as though guided by the stars.

You were destined to find each other.

Lord, I did not plan for this to be so long. I'm so sorry this part took like a thousand years and I sincerely hope it was decent! I've managed to include all the details I came up with but am somehow not too happy with the delivery (then again, when am I not unsatisfied with my own work lmfao).

More importantly, I cannot believe I now have 2k followers😭 thank you all so much! I cannot wait to finish Jongho and Yeosang's spinoffs and then work on more new stuff!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[xxntiimulti]

「FALLEN | chapter ¹」

pair: loki x fem!reader

chapter summary: loki never knows when to stop. pushing the limits with his trickstery and leaving a bad reputation for himself from his people and towards his family and odin finally snaps.

masterlist | next part >

disclaimer: none

word count: 2.6k

notes: check masterlist for full info of the LP series.

Loki sat up in a daze feeling dirt all around him. Still not able to comprehend what had just happened, he sat there for a few minutes before looking down and realizing he didn't have any of his armor, having just been stripped off him just a couple of minutes ago.

He wore a gray shirt, one he uses before putting on his royal outfit and tight black pants. Loki looked up at the dark sky, seeing all the stars and moon just shimmering at him before letting out a loud scream of frustration as he remembered what had just happened.

Loki walked through the halls of the palace humming a simple tune while reading a book. Screams of frustration and humiliation ran over the walls making him slightly smirk knowing that he once again caught off guard all the servants and workers with his mischief. He closed his book and entered his room which he had already reached by the time every single little trick he had planted had been done.

For the past two weeks Asgard has been in shambles and while not quite literally like having other realms, kingdoms or planets attack them it was more of their own prince playing a really sick joke on them which they were tired of. No one knew what exactly ticked off their younger prince, Loki, but whatever was it they were the ones to pay for it. If they already didn’t dislike or fear him enough from his cold demeanor or his terrible attitude this had to be the last straw.

People at the stables had to go through the torture of putting the horses back in place, people at kitchen having all their ingredients mixed up or not being able to open the cabinets, servants tripping over the slippery hallways etc.; it was all a chaos. Complaints sprouted from the workers and even the outside were affected by a really strange sort of vandalism that couldn’t be exactly called that since all Loki did was ruin the perfect decorations and replace them easily with different decorations of different holidays.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the All Father, Odin nor the All Mother, Frigga who were just as tired of having to apologize to their own people because of their son’s actions. And while Frigga was the one more accepting of the childishness Loki displayed, seeing it as more of a misunderstanding and Loki just finding this a way to vent, Odin didn’t see it that way and was tired that his reputation as a King getting tarnished for not being able to control a prince childish actions of mischief.

While the punishments didn’t go much far than just a simple not being able to go to battles or losing the privilege of time to train actual seidr (which Loki detested the most since each week he always found an interesting spell to work on) or just having to undo his spells and help around; it didn’t really affect him that much.

Battles? He could care less about it. Afterall, it doesn't matter how much of a good performance he pulls off, he would always be overshadowed by his older brother, Thor.

Training did tick him off a bit, but the thought leaves his mind once he starts reading books he has been wanting to read. It is a win-win or lose scenario depending whether the book ended up being good or not.

Didn’t matter what punishment he was given, he would always rise again to create a new catastrophe, or so he thought.

Thor’s birthday was coming up and Odin decided to throw him a full banquet with many people happy to celebrate who they believe to be the best heir of the family, hoping for the crown to be passed down onto him. It wasn’t full of sunshine and rainbows either with the people getting suspicious of the young prince who for the past week hasn't done anything of trickery. Not a single string of decoration touch, nor the kitchen where they were preparing their prince's favorite meals, nothing. It was turning a bit eerie.

Thor, knowing well his brother, walks to his brother’s room where he knocks loudly enough for it to echo the empty halls. He heard a bit of shuffling before the door opened where Loki gave a bored expression and an impatient one.

“Anything that I can help you with, dear brother.” Loki seethed the last words giving a little fake smile.

Thor chuckled at his brother’s way of talking, giving his own smug smile. “Nothing wrong brother, but haven’t you noticed it has been awfully quiet. Like you know, no screams or nothing.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You sure you haven’t heard screams because I’m pretty sure the people are out there screaming for their oh so lovely prince tells a much more different story.”

“You know what I mean Loki.” Thor said, giving him a pointed look.

“No, I really have no idea of what you’re saying, Thor.” Loki replied even though he did know exactly what he was referring to.

Thor shook his head and sigh, "Loki, I know you–

"No you don’t." He interrupted, not pleased at where the conversation was going.

Thor send him a side glare, Loki giving him the fakest smile he had ever mustered.

"You know what you're doing and you better stop Loki. It would not end well–"

"Oh dear me, how can I ever survive not going to the libra–

"Loki." Thor said sternly, making Loki stop as they stared at each other intensely. "Look I know you are preparing the biggest trick you'll ever have played and all I'm saying is don't do it."

"How low of you to think of me like that brother." Loki said in a fake tone. "I wasn't planning anything."

Thor sighs and places his hand firmly on top of Loki's shoulder. Loki tried to shake it off, but it didn’t budge one bit.

“Look at you Thor, you’re just a child worried for nothing. Begging for their oh so special day not to be ruined. What are you 500 years old?” Loki mocked.

“Loki this is not for me, this is for you. Our father is at his brink and I don’t want you to do anything…” Thor strung out, he felt as if saying more, but the current situation and Loki acting hostile didn’t allow him to do so and could only hope Loki managed to catch the real worry that he has for him.

“And why this sudden care brother.” Loki clicked his tongue.”Been hearing the latest gossip haven’t you Thor.”

Loki saw Thor’s shift a bit and softened his grip letting it slide to his side. “You have.” Loki darkly chuckled.

“Gossip or not, we both know that dad is at his last rope.” Thor whispered harshly, noticing that a maid had just passed by quickly. “So Loki don’t do anything that might get you in more trouble than you already are. Do it for mother.”

Loki noticed the last line that Thor said knowing that it would have an effect on him, but this time he wasn’t going to let that slide. “I promise brother, I won’t do anything on your happy day.”

“Odin, please calm down!” Frigga yelled walking fast to be able to catch up to Odin who was draggin Loki to the bifrost. “All-Fat-, father, where are you taking him!” Thor demanded while also trying his best to take off the silly decorations put on him by the people.

Loki tried to shake off from the restraints put on his hands, but not even his seidr worked and for the first time ever since he started his jokes, he was scared for what was going to happen.

He had done what Thor had warned him not to do, but he couldn’t help it. It was so tempting and just so perfect and just everything clouded his mind when he did it. Was it because of jealousy, frustration, sadness, a mix of everything or just wanting to ruin everything, he didn’t know.

The party had started perfectly. The decorations were in the right place, all the food untouch from the trickery of the prince and everything was going well till the party; chaos erupts.

Now the decorations were once again changed, but formed into foreign language and nobody thought of anything till one found out that it contained really burglar words targeted towards the guests. The food turned all spoiled by Loki’s magic, the table and chairs were a mess and all this seemed to be just pure childish antics till it affected the All Father, Odin and the All Mother, Firgga.

The trick that Loki had planned to be on Thor resulted with the All-Father falling for it and the All Mother. Odin’s face and Frigga’s dress stained with the ink that exploded from the cake. It seemed like nothing harmless and something to not be given the biggest punishment, but it was the disrespect that astonished everyone in the room, even if that wasn’t the intention.

They had now arrived at the bifrost where the guards forced Loki down, in a kneeling position, in such a harsh manner with little to no respect. “I’m your prince!” Loki yelled. “Treat me as one!”

“You’re no prince with the way you have behaved!” the All-Father yelled, still cleaning his face that was filled with ink. The ink itself would be easy to take off if it weren’t mixed with a spell that Loki did that made the ink ten times harder to take off.

Loki stayed there quiet, but he had to bite his tongue to do so and the only thing he could do was glare daggers at Odin. He glanced towards the entrance of the bifrost where Frigga and Thor had just arrived, ready to defend him.

He wanted to let out a slight smile, but he knew if he did, whatever Odin was thinking of would be worse and Loki could already start imagining what the old man had planned for him. Being at the bifrost was a enough giveaway that he would be banished from Asgard for who knows how long.

Loki was worried, but the more he thought about it, he shrugged at the thought of being powerless. He’s pretty sure that with his skill tongue and powers would be enough to get a good position at whatever hierarchy he’s being sent off to.

“Don’t think that you would get away that easily from your punishment, Loki.” Odin said, signaling Heimdmall to open the bifrost. “Open it Heimdmall!”

“Odin, please don’t do this.” Frigga pleaded standing in front of her son. “Give him any other punishment.”

Loki sighs, looking down not wanting to see his mother plead for him. He also didn’t want to see the stain dress that reflected upon his trick that wasn’t meant to be for her. He could never imagine doing that to her.

Thor also stepped up. “Father, that trick was meant for me. No need to send him away.” Thor said. “I hold no grudges against my brother’s tricks done to me.”

“Both of you only think of what Loki has done to you, but never think of our people as well.” Odin started, grabbing Loki from the forearm, somehow with his old bones being able to lift him up. “Tricks done all this time and many of them affected our people. Frigga remember all those times our people came up to us and complain about our son’s doing, wishing that more was done than just a sorry.”

Loki didn’t dare to look up seeing that with just a push he would be thrown. He started to feel the gust of the bifrost opening upon him. “He’s not a little kid anymore Frigga. He’s willingly doing all this for whatever childish reason he thinks he has. If he wants respect, he would not have it. If he wants glory this is not the way to do it. He needs to learn respect and earn it because being here in Asgard seems to not be working.”

It was quiet. Frigga and Thor couldn’t even refute that no matter how much they wanted to defend Loki. They knew that others were also affected through Loki’s tricks. Frigga had an idea as to why he did it because even through Odin’s words there are flaws, but she couldn’t do much about it cause she knew that Loki would continue to vent his frustration on others.

Odin looked at Loki and harshly stripped his cape away, shocking everyone. Loki looked up to Odin trying to take off his restraints, not wanting to be sent off like just a pile of nothingness. “Father!” Thor yelled.

The next words that came out of Odin were ones Loki wished to never have heard.

“Through your stupid actions, you’ve disappointed, fear and disrespected your people who you honored to protect and rule. You are unworthy of these realms!” Odin roared, walking away from Loki. “You’re unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed.” Loki wanted to scream hearing that line. His heart pounding so harshly against his very own chest, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. “I now take from you your power! In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin AllFather, cast you out!”

Odin raised his sword and pointed it at Loki, a blast landing directly at him launching him to the bifrost. Loki heard muffled yells, but was blocked from what he felt to be a lot of energy leaving his body and all his armor breaking.

After his scream which he much needed, he stood up and walked around feeling his feet bare. Loki looked around seeing that everything was pretty much empty, just grass and pavement that was surrounded with light. Loki was scared to say the least., although he didn’t show it. Wherever he was, it was strange and dark, only hearing really weird noises from the distance to what he presumed to be animals.

He looked around for a bit more, still standing in the same spot he landed on.

He walked to the pavement, feeling the rocky cold floor and looked for where to go.

He tilted his head seeing a strange poll that had just changed its color, red to green. A strange loud noise was heard from behind him - he turned around and a bright white light came at him at an insane speed.

The strange object dodge him and even if Loki didn’t know what it exactly was he knew it could’ve been his death. The object stopped just a few feet away from him, the door opening seeing a young woman come out from it.

Loki couldn’t see her quite well as his vision blurred, quite tired from all the things that had just happened in the blink of an eye, he closed his eyes and fell just faintly hearing the concerns of the young woman.

"Odin, when are you thinking of bringing him back.” Frigga snapped, clearly upset at the whole situation.

Odin and Heimdall had both been whispering at each other, Heimdall telling the All-Father that Loki was in the hands of a Midgardian woman who is deemed to be a good person and someone probably able to help him. He looked towards Frigga who was breathing heavily, clearly still distressed about the situation.

“He’ll come back once he learns his lesson.” Odin firmly said, looking down at the Bifrost. “When he finally sees that there are other ways to confide his emotions, when he shows respect to those inferior to him and when he shows compassion towards those like him, then he would be granted to return, but until then we’ll just have to wait.”

[heirbane]

Varis changed many things in the palace after Solus perished.

The theatre, with it's heavy velvet curtains and wide orchestral pit, was one such casualty. While not demolished entirely, the use of the building shifted, holding military graduations, private ceremonies, and as a over large lecture hall for educational use.

The second casualty was nearly the gardens. Multiple of them dotted the interior of the palace, giving the long hallways a glimmer of life outside their windows. It was not Garlemald's own greenery, as those gardens were propagated on the exterior of the buildings, free for the civilians to see and enjoy.

The interior gardens were far more than that. Enclosed entirely by reinforced glass and temperature controlled for each environs need, the greenery and lush life that could be spotted from the palace's hallways and great banquet halls were recreations of life abroad. Solus, as Emperor and as Ascian, had scoured the entirety of the world, and the Star was replicated in miniature among the sprawling, glass-lidded rooms.

Meracydia, with it's thorned fruits, scaled like dragons and as impossible to ruin. The fruit inside was spotted and tart once the husk was removed, the thorns peeled back one by one with gloves to avoid having fingers sliced open. Trees lined the pathway, heavy and bowing, the leaves such a rich green that they bordered on black.

Coerthas, before the most recent calamity, was replicated in another: flowers aplenty and evergreens shy in the back. Wild sweet onions and berry bushes were the biggest bounty, but the flowers could be crushed and turned into tea or a fragrant oil used in desserts.

On and on it went. One could walk the malms of the palace and see the entirety of the world in miniature, step into the greenhouses so carefully curated by gardeners and regulated by bioengineers, and be swept abroad.

Varis believed the green space to be a costly waste. Snow melted on the roof of the rooms from how warm they were kept; the gardeners worked tirelessly; and the bounty from the gardens only benefitted the royal family and their guests. Such an extravagant, expensive show of wealth did not sit well with the new emperor.

He had full intent to have them simply removed, turning the spaces into strictly biomes for Ilsabardian plants, had he not been informed that Gaius van Baelsar traversed them frequently. The man, still green in his earned title, hid himself among the flora, sometimes standing for a bell or more in a specific region's recreation.

It was when Varis found him in Ala Mhigo's desert, clove trees swaying in an artificial breeze and his wolfish gaze on a bundle of lavender, that the emperor realized why:

The Legatus was using them to think, to place himself in the barbarous lands. He crouched, pulling a wayward weed from the lavender plants, considering what the terrain - and it's fauna - might imply for those who lived there.

Varis spoke no further word of the terrariums being demolished. If such frivolous rooms aided the Legatus in his conquests, they were worthy of staying.

(Now, after the Final Days, the rooms are rotted and dead. Few plants remain usable; the fruit trees of Meracydia being one such, as little but a meteor strike could deter them from growing. But without the regulatory systems being active to keep the biome a specific humidity and temperature, they are little more than mausoleums to what had been, like most of the nation: a hint to what could have been, had the Star simply perished. With care and with more ceruleum - and bioengineers able to run the programs - mayhaps they could be restored, the spaces used for the populace as a whole. For now, however, they are dead and forgotten.)

[puckwritesstuff]

🎵 57

57. "All Along the Watchtower" - Bob Dylan

"All along the watchtower Princes kept the view"

Thank you for the ask!

---

Loki set up his telescope on the platform at the top of Asgard’s tallest tower. He placed the star charts on the parapet under a heavy paperweight. He looked out over Asgard. The lights of the city had yet to die out and there was still a hurry of people coming in and out of the palace as they readied the throne room and the banquet hall for the next day.

The sound of a door caught his attention and Thor stepped out onto the platform, surprised to see his brother there.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Thor said. “No one comes up here, I thought—”

“If you wish to be alone—”

“No, no,” Thor said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Loki shook his head, turning back to his equipment.

“It’s not intruding,” he muttered, only just loud enough for Thor to hear.

Thor smiled and joined his brother.

“So…” Thor said. “Tomorrow.”

“I’m aware,” Loki said, not looking up.

“Do you have any requests of your new king?” Thor asked, almost joking.

“You are not king just yet, Brother,” Loki said.

Thor laughed. “I’m as good as. I must say, I was surprised when Father said he was abdicating.”

“He’s not young,” Loki said. “He’s just shy of 4200, he only has so much time left.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Thor said.

Loki glanced at his brother. Thor’s smile had faded, and his arms were crossed in front of him as he leaned on the parapet.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Thor asked.

Loki blinked. “What sort of question is that?”

“Certainly not one you have to evade,” Thor said. “Do you think I’m ready?”

Loki paused to think about what he should say.

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready,” he decided. “I think some are more ready than others. I wouldn’t be, were it me.”

“There is wisdom in that,” Thor said. “Not Father’s wisdom, but…”

“I wouldn’t say that Father’s wisdom has faltered,” Loki said.

“Not out loud, anyways,” Thor said.

“What did he say to you?” Loki asked. “When he told you he was abdicating?”

“What did he tell you?” Thor asked.

Loki shook his head. “I wasn’t told. Not until the official announcement.”

“Probably didn’t want another argument,” Thor said.

“I don’t argue with Father nearly enough to warrant that,” Loki said. “I merely discuss things with him.”

“He does an awful lot of yelling when you discuss things,” Thor said.

Loki scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand.

“I rarely understand you these days,” Thor said. “What happened that we grew apart like this?”

Loki shrugged. “We grew up. We’re very different people, Brother.”

“We’ve always been different people,” Thor said. “But time was, you would tell me everything.”

“I never told you everything,” Loki said. “Trust me.”

“You didn’t have to say it for me to know,” Thor said. “Now… now I don’t know.”

Loki didn’t respond to that, but he looked away.

“Even when I am king, I will still be your brother,” Thor said. “You can tell me anything.”

“You don’t want that,” Loki said. “You really don’t.”

Thor nodded. “Father always said we were both born to be kings. Perhaps your kingdom is out there.”

He gestured from the Astronomy equipment to the stars they were studying.

“We just need to find it,” Thor said. “What are you doing up here, anyways?”

“Oh.” Loki gestured to the star charts. “Sigyn gave me these. She asked me to check her work before she goes over them with her father.”

Thor smirked. “Are you certain there’s nothing your new king can grant you?”

Loki blinked. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

Thor nodded and clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I should sleep,” he said. “And so should you. Don’t stay up too long, Sigyn can wait for those charts.”

Loki nodded and Thor left to head back downstairs. Loki looked through the telescope at the star of Jotunheim, and then made some notes on the charts he’d stolen off of Sigyn’s desk earlier that day.

“Everything changes tomorrow, Brother,” he muttered. “I wish it could be different.”

[oppvenuz4456]

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Conclusion

When it comes to planning the perfect wedding in Mumbai, choosing the right venue is key. The top 7 best wedding venues in Mumbai city offer a range of options to suit every couple’s vision, whether you’re dreaming of a beachside wedding, a grand ballroom celebration, or a contemporary outdoor affair. From the historical grandeur of The Taj Mahal Palace to the modern elegance of Tote on the Turf, these venues provide not only breathtaking settings but also impeccable service to ensure your big day is unforgettable. With these options, you can be sure that your wedding in Mumbai will be nothing short of magical.