#the cruel prince pack | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yaniluvs · 28 days ago

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wings of a broken heart, fly away 日 ── stranded human falls for the faerie who heals him, but love masks a cruel fate.

𓍯 prince!hyunjin ʚଓ fem-faerie!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 14k ── ༯ ONESHOT, fantasy, mystical, skz ensemble, humor, romance, gore, fluff, flirting, kisses, open ending, hurting, faerieland, royal au, mystery, clean, heartbreak (if it wasn't obvious from the title.. ><), cliffhanger, major plot twist, blood, betrayals. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ yani's active era now in action. y'all are not gonna like this one.. correct me if i'm wrong in the comments ;) !! a warning, hope you're mentally prepared for this, and please reread the info. so that you don't come attack me after.. !! i don't think it really came out as i wanted it to, but well, it's out anyway. i could do better, sorry if it wasn't to your expectations !! kinda different from my usual works :<. please note this is all out of my mere delusions and imaginations ; nothing relates to the idol irl, and it’s all fiction, so take it with a grain of salt. comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the dewmist woods were alive with a thousand shades of green. sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the moss-covered ground in soft gold. the air carried the mingling scents of wildflowers, dew, and the sweet aroma of nectar. this wasn’t an ordinary forest—it was an untouched realm, brimming with magic and mystery. trees towered into the heavens, their trunks wrapped in glowing vines, while exotic fruits of every imaginable hue hung from branches. the fruits shimmered like jewels—pearly white starfruits, golden berries that sparkled like fireflies, and plum-sized fruits that emitted a soft lilac glow.

outside of the woods, by the shore, a clearing bustled with activity. a makeshift boat, carefully pieced together over years of labor, rested on a carpet of moss. it was a beautiful thing—its base carved from sturdy driftwood and reinforced with planks salvaged from shipwrecks found near the island's shores. the sails were stitched together from woven leaves, strengthened with threads of a fabric that resembled a bit with silk, with a hint of magic. the boat’s elegance was matched only by the bittersweet air surrounding it.

y/n stood a few paces away, her light brown hair catching the sun as she watched her friends—family, now, make the final preparations. she wore a flowing dress of woven golden petals, its edges fluttering like butterfly wings with each soft breeze. her wings, radiant and white with streaks of yellow, were hidden for now, as they often were when she felt nervous or uncertain. and today, she was both.

“y/n, stop fidgeting,” came a teasing voice.

she turned to see one of the eldest in the crew, adjusting the strap of a small pack slung across his shoulder. his raven hair gleamed, and his sharp eyes, though calm, held a glimmer of warmth. he looked like he always did—steady, dependable, and just a little smug.

“i’m not fidgeting!” y/n shot back, crossing her arms but unable to suppress a smile. “i’m just… making sure everything’s okay.”

“everything is fine, little fae,” the actual oldest called from the other side of the clearing, his blonde hair catching the light like spun gold. he was carrying a barrel onto the boat with ease, his strength making the task look effortless. “we’ve triple-checked everything. right, yaena?”

the lilac-haired elf nodded as she secured her quiver of arrows onto the side of the boat. her voice was calm and steady as always. “yes, but that doesn’t mean you get to slack off now, chris. we still need to balance the supplies better.”

“i’m not slacking off! i’m just saying y/n doesn’t need to worry so much,” chris replied with a playful grin.

“she worries because she cares,” rina interjected, her brown hair tied back in a braid adorned with small, glowing flowers. she was arranging bundles of food—berries, fruits, and enchanted nuts—into small satchels. “and honestly, we could use a little more care sometimes.”

“stop babying her,” minho said, though there was no bite to his words. he glanced at y/n with a smirk. “you’ll have felix here. if anything happens, he’ll just turn invisible and scare away whatever comes your way.”

felix, who was leaning against a tree with his silver hair catching the light, gave a soft chuckle. the younger one's deep voice carried effortlessly. “i don’t think that’s how invisibility works, but i’ll do my best.” he looked at y/n and added, “don’t worry, y/nnie. i’ll make sure nothing happens while they’re gone.” he pat her head, exaggerating his words.

“i’m not a kid, you know,” y/n protested, pouting slightly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “and i don’t need protection.”

felix raised an eyebrow. “right. because you’re going to take down a wild boar with your healing magic?”

y/n stuck out her tongue at him, and the group burst into laughter. “if i have to, i might!”

the humor did little to mask the weight of what was happening. this was the day. after years of dreaming, planning, and building, chris, minho, yaena, and rina were finally leaving dewmist woods in search of their kind. it wasn’t an easy choice—they all knew the island was a haven, and the outside world was an unknown. but the island had once been filled with faeries, elves, and other magical beings, and they couldn’t ignore the call to find out what had happened to them.

“alright, everyone, gather up!” chris called, clapping his hands.

the group formed a loose circle around the boat. the atmosphere shifted, becoming more somber.

he spoke first, his voice steady. “we don’t know how long this journey will take, but we promise to come back. and when we do, we’ll bring answers—maybe even more of our kind.”

yaena stepped forward, placing a hand on y/n’s shoulder. “take care of the forest while we’re gone. it’s our home, and it’s still full of magic. protect it, and protect each other.”

rina gave y/n a tight hug. “we’re going to miss your singing. don’t let felix teach you any bad habits while we’re gone.”

“i heard that,” felix muttered, though his tone was fond.

finally, minho crouched slightly to look y/n in the eye. his expression softened, something rare for him when he's with others; but definitely usual when he's with his favorite younger—who was more of a little sister . “stay safe, y/n. and don’t forget—you’re stronger than you think. even if you’re not out there fighting, you’re the heart of this group.”

y/n blinked quickly, trying to hold back tears. she nodded, her voice small but steady. “you all better come back. promise me.”

“we promise,” chris said, placing a hand over his heart.

the group exchanged final hugs, their voices overlapping with goodbyes, reassurances, and half-teasing remarks to lighten the mood.

as the boat finally pushed off, its sails catching the gentle breeze, y/n and felix stood at the water’s edge, watching it grow smaller in the distance.

“you okay?” felix asked after a moment, his deep voice breaking the silence.

y/n nodded, though her chest felt tight. “yeah. i just.. i hope they find what they’re looking for.”

“they will,” felix said confidently. “and until then, we’ve got this place to take care of.”

y/n turned to look at him, her wings fluttering briefly into view before disappearing again. “you’re right. dewmist woods is still our home.”

and so, as the boat disappeared beyond the horizon, y/n and felix turned back toward the vibrant, magical forest. they were the last guardians of dewmist woods, and no matter what came their way, they would protect it.

the forest hummed with life, but y/n couldn’t shake the ache of loneliness in her chest. it had been days since the others had left, and though felix was nearby, she still felt the absence of their vibrant presence—chris’s booming laugh, minho’s sarcastic quips, rina’s soft encouragement, and yaena’s calm reassurances. the hut, usually filled with warmth and chatter, now felt quiet and hollow.

after pacing around the home for what felt like the hundredth time, she decided she couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. she slipped out, leaving the hut behind.

bare feet kissed the earth as she stepped into the sun-dappled clearing, her delicate wings unfurling behind her. a cascade of soft yellow and white shimmered in the light, their glow akin to moonbeams caught in the gossamer threads of a spider’s web. her wings were as ethereal as a dream, a living tapestry of light and silk, yet they carried the ghost of an old wound—a wound from a time too distant to remember fully but too near and painful to ever forget.

a long, jagged tear marred the right wing’s perfect symmetry, a place where once, sharp brambles had cut too deep, too unforgiving. even now, the slightest brush of wind or a careless twig sent tendrils of pain radiating through her, a reminder of her fragility. her wings, though lovely, were a burden as much as a gift.

her fingers trembled as they hovered over the scarred place. she felt the familiar sting of weakness simmering beneath her skin. she could fly—but the price was always too high. every lift of her body into the air drained her strength, left her breathless and trembling until her feet longed for the solidity of the earth once more.

and so, she avoided the skies.

with a deep breath, she let her wings droop gently, their glow dimming like a waning candle. the ache in her heart remained, but she pressed onward. the soft grass curled around her toes as she wandered further into the woods. each step was slow, deliberate, but there was a kind of power in that slowness, a quiet strength in choosing to walk when the world expected her to soar.

so yes, she was a faerie—but one who trusted the ground beneath her feet more than the sky that whispered promises her fragile wings could not keep.

— ༊ ࿐

the walk to the shore was peaceful, the sun filtering gently through the canopy above, painting the mossy ground with golden light. she stopped to talk to a cluster of butterflies, their wings shimmering with iridescent hues, their tiny, fluttering voices soothing in her mind. a few pixies, no taller than her hand, flitted by, laughing as they danced in spirals around her.

when she reached the shoreline, the world opened up. the sea stretched endlessly before her, glittering like liquid sapphire. the waves lapped gently against the sand, the soft breeze carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean. y/n sat down near the water, her wings catching the sunlight and casting a warm, ethereal glow around her. she drew idle shapes in the sand, humming softly to herself.

but then, something unusual caught her eye.

at the far edge of the shore, where the coastline curved sharply and jagged rocks jutted out into the water, there was something out of place—a wreckage. a small, broken boat lay partially submerged, its hull splintered and leaning against the rocks. the wood was dark, soaked with seawater, and the sails hung in torn shreds.

y/n froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. the sight was foreign to her; her mind raced with questions. what could it be? who could it belong to?

slowly, curiosity overtook her hesitance.

she rose to her feet, brushing the sand off her dress, and made her way toward the wreck. her wings shimmered faintly as they fluttered behind her, reflecting her rising nerves.

when she reached the boat, she noticed the strange objects scattered around it. bits of metal tools, a shattered lantern, and a few soaked, crumbling scrolls were strewn across the sand. everything seemed alien, unfamiliar—nothing like the natural world she’d always known.

and then she saw him.

lying on the sand, just beyond the wreckage, was a figure. a human..?

y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and her wings instinctively folded tighter against her back. she had never seen a human before. the stories, paintings, and faded memories left on the island described them as strange, otherworldly beings. her friends had always debated what humans might be like—dangerous, kind, curious—but none of them had ever expected to see one.

her wide eyes scanned him cautiously. he was motionless, his body partially turned on its side, one arm sprawled out in the sand. he was tall, much taller than she’d imagined humans might be, and his frame seemed strong, even though his posture was limp with unconsciousness.

for a moment, she hesitated. should she approach him? what if he woke up and harmed her? but then her gaze shifted to the dark stain of blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt and the jagged wound on his thigh. her heart pained.

steeling herself, she stepped closer, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand. she crouched down beside him, her dress fanning out around her. his face was obscured by long, damp strands of black hair, clinging to his skin from seawater.

she reached out hesitantly, her hand trembling as she brushed the hair away from his face.

and then she saw him.

his face was… unlike anything she had ever imagined. his features were sharp and elegant, almost unreal in their beauty. his skin was pale, almost translucent in the sunlight, with a soft sheen from the water. his jawline was defined, his lips pink and full, parted slightly as he breathed shallowly.

but it was the small details that captivated her most. a single mole rested beneath one of his closed eyes, adding an endearing softness to his otherwise striking face. his long lashes lay against his cheeks, dark and feathery, as though they held secrets of faraway lands. he wore a loose white shirt that clung to his chest, now torn in places, the sleeves folded halfway, right above the elbow, and black ragged pants that had seen better days. the fabric was unlike anything on the island, both strange and fascinating.

y/n’s heart raced as she took in his appearance. she had never seen a face other than her own reflection in the crystalline water, or her friends’ familiar features. although there were plenty of similarities, this was entirely new—entirely human. his curved ears, unlike hers that were edged and pointy at the top, his body slightly larger than hers, and hair midnight.

she reached out again, her fingers hovering near the mole under his eye, but she drew back before touching him.

he was hurt. the blood on his arm and thigh stained the sand beneath him, the red a stark contrast to the pale gold of the beach. the wound above his elbow looked deep, the torn fabric of his shirt revealing raw, jagged skin.

y/n’s instincts kicked in. as a faerie whose ability was healing even the deepest wounds, you could say that she could never try to hurt a singular ant, let alone, a bigger.. being. the sight of blood and pain made her heart wrench with emotion, tears pooling her eyes.

she glanced around the shore, her mind racing for a solution. but the wreckage held no answers, only more questions. how had he ended up here? where had he come from?

for a moment, she faltered. what if she wasn’t ready to face this? she was the youngest, the least experienced. the others would have known what to do.

but as she looked back at his peaceful, unconscious face, her resolve hardened.

“i can’t just leave you here,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the waves. her wings flickered faintly, as if agreeing with her decision.

she placed a hand gently on his shoulder, her fingers brushing the wet fabric of his shirt. “i’ll help you. somehow.”

and with that, she made her choice.

the rhythmic crashing of the waves faded into the background as the faerie focused on the unconscious human before her. her hands hovered hesitantly over the wound on his arm, her breath unsteady. the dark red gash seemed deep, the skin torn and swollen. blood had soaked through his torn sleeve and pooled on the sand beneath him.

she glanced at his face again, his sharp features softened by unconsciousness. despite his unfamiliarity, her heart ached to see anyone in such a state. he must’ve been through something terrible, she thought.

taking a deep breath, y/n closed her eyes. her wings began to glow faintly, an ethereal yellow-white light that grew brighter with every passing moment. she moved her hands closer to the wound, and as she did, a soft golden light spread from her palms. her wings radiated energy, filling the air around her with warmth and calm.

the wound on his arm began to close, the torn skin knitting itself together under the glow of her touch. she moved her hands to his thigh, repeating the process. her aura shimmered brighter now, wrapping both of them in a cocoon of light. even the faint scratches on his face faded under her care, leaving only smooth, pale skin behind.

her energy pulsed gently as the last of his injuries disappeared. the light dimmed, her wings flickering faintly before the glow receded entirely. y/n exhaled, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. he was still unconscious, but his breathing was steady, no longer labored or shallow.

“i-i did it,” she whispered, relief washing over her. “you're not hurting now.”

but now came the next challenge: she couldn’t leave him exposed here on the shore. the sea breeze was cool, and the open beach left him vulnerable. she couldn’t risk felix finding him either; she knew her protective friend would forbid her from getting involved.

y/n crouched beside him, her small hands hooking under his shoulders as she tried to drag him toward the trees. despite his lean frame, he was heavier than she expected, his boots dragging lines in the sand as she pulled with all her strength.

“why are humans so big?” she grumbled under her breath, her voice light but strained.

finally, she managed to get him under the shade of a large tree near the edge of the forest. the area was secluded enough to hide him from prying eyes but close enough to the beach that she could keep watch. she laid him down carefully, brushing sand off his clothes as she straightened his arm.

“stay here,” she murmured softly, glancing at his still face. she bit her lip, debating for a moment before turning and heading back to the heart of the forest, to their hut.

... minutes later.

the walk back was nerve-wracking. every rustle of leaves made her jump, every shift of the forest’s shadows made her glance over her shoulder.

what am i even doing? she wondered, her fingers clutching the edges of her glowing dress. felix would never approve if he knew.

thankfully, the hut was empty when she returned. she quickly gathered a basket of fruits, her hands trembling as she selected the ripest ones. mango-like pulms, plump red sunberries, and a handful of yellow starfruits were arranged neatly. she added a flask of fresh water and some bread they’d made the day before.

by the time she returned to the tree, the human was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily. she set the basket down beside him and crouched behind a nearby bush, her wings tucked tightly against her back as she waited.

she didn’t have to wait long.

a soft groan broke the stillness, followed by a faint rustle as the human shifted. y/n’s heart leapt, her hands clutching the hem of her dress as she peeked out from her hiding spot. his hand moved first, his long fingers curling slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

dark, almond-shaped eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding his expression. he sat up slowly, his brows furrowed as he looked down at his arm—and froze.

the blood was gone. the wound was gone.

he lifted his sleeve, examining the now-smooth skin with wide eyes. his hands moved to his thigh, finding the same result.

“what…?” he muttered, his voice low and soft, tinged with disbelief. his gaze darted to the basket of food nearby, and then to the surrounding forest.

a sudden rustling noise drew his attention, and his sharp eyes snapped toward the source—y/n.

great job, self.

she gasped softly, realizing she’d been seen. his dark gaze locked onto her, his posture tense but not hostile. he didn’t seem frightened; if anything, he looked protective, his hands poised to defend himself.

but then his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to the soft glow of her wings, which she hadn’t hidden in her nervousness.

“you…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion.

y/n’s heart raced. she scrambled back a step, her fingers brushing against the sand until they found a smooth stone. she snatched it up, holding it in front of her defensively.

“w-who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a strength that surprised even her. her usual gentle tone sharpened into something firm, her wings flaring slightly behind her.

the human raised his hands in a placating gesture, his gaze never leaving hers. “i’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice calm but steady. “i… i don’t even know where i am.”

y/n narrowed her eyes, gripping the stone tighter. “that doesn’t answer my question.”

he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “i’m… a traveler. my ship—it crashed in a storm. i don’t know how i got here.”

y/n tilted her head, her curiosity beginning to outweigh her fear. “you’re human,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

he blinked. “and you’re..” he replied, his gaze flickering to her glowing wings.

she spoke again, not wanting him to complete his sentence. “you shouldn’t be here. no one should be here,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered at the edges. her grip on the stone loosened slightly, though she didn’t lower it.

“i didn’t mean to,” the man replied. “i didn’t even know this place existed.”

y/n studied him for a long moment, her amber-brown eyes searching his face. he didn’t seem dangerous—just lost, confused, and maybe a little awestruck. but the stories she’d grown up with still lingered in the back of her mind, warning her to be cautious.

finally, she lowered the stone, though her wings remained flared, a faint glow surrounding her. “stay where you are,” she said firmly. “i’ll decide what to do with you.”

his lips twitched into the faintest smile. “you saved me, didn’t you?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she ignored his question, turning her back on him as she hid her trembling hands behind her.

what am i doing? she thought again, her heart pounding as she tried to keep her composure. y/n stepped back a little farther, gripping the smooth stone tightly in her hand as the human tried to shift into a more comfortable position. she studied him closely, every detail of his movements, unsure if he might suddenly become hostile. her wings glowed faintly behind her, an unintentional show of her nervousness.

"don't come close to me—" she said sharply, her voice firm despite the slight quiver in her tone.

he froze, lifting his hands again to show he meant no harm, once again. “i won't— i'm saying it again, i’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring.

her eyes darted to his hands and then back to his face. “you shouldn’t even be here. you don’t belong here.”

he tilted his head, his gaze flickering briefly to her glowing wings. “are you.. human?”

y/n blinked, startled by the question. “human?” she mumbled the word she'd known for long, but it still foreign on her tongue.

she looked at him more closely now, studying the odd cut of his clothes, the dark fabric layered with gold-threaded details. his boots were worn, his hair tousled and damp from the sea, yet he carried himself with an air of elegance. he was undeniably different—alien, unfamiliar.

“no,” she replied quietly. “i’ve never seen a.. human before.”

a faint smile tugged at his lips, though he quickly masked it. “well, now you have,” he said lightly.

she stiffened at his tone, her grip on the stone tightening. “don’t mock me.”

“i’m not mocking you,” he replied, his voice still soft. “i’m just… surprised. i didn’t expect to find anyone here.”

her eyes narrowed. “you shouldn’t have found us. this island—it’s forbidden. you need to leave as soon as you can.”

the man leaned back slightly, his gaze flickering around the shaded forest. “i would if i could, but i don’t think i’m in any shape to build a boat and sail off, do you?”

y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond. she had to admit he had a point, but she didn’t like the idea of him staying here. her friends had always warned her about outsiders. they’d said humans were dangerous, unpredictable, and greedy.

“where am i?” he asked suddenly, his tone curious but calm.

“it’s none of your concern,” y/n said quickly, her voice defensive.

“it kinda is if i’m stranded here.”

she shook her head. “you don’t need to know. it won’t help you anyway.”

“talk about honesty.. alright, this will be hard.”

he studied her for a moment, his gaze steady but not intimidating. “are you a faerie?”

y/n froze, her wings flickering faintly. she didn’t know how he knew about faeries, but his question struck a nerve. her first instinct was to deny it, but the way he asked—gently, without any trace of malice—made her pause.

after a long moment, she gave a hesitant nod.

his expression softened, though he kept his features carefully neutral. he didn’t want to scare her away or reveal how much he already knew about her kind. growing up in the palace, he’d been taught about faeries, elves, and other mystical beings—legends passed down through generations. he’d always thought them to be myths, mere stories to entertain and educate. but now, seeing her standing before him, her glowing wings and angelic presence so very real, he couldn’t help but marvel.

“don’t stare,” y/n said, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look intimidating.

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, though there was a faint amusement in his tone. “i just didn’t think i’d ever meet a faerie.”

“well, now you have. so eat,” she said, shoving the basket of fruit toward him.

he glanced at the basket, then back at her. “you brought this for me?”

she frowned, looking away. “i… figured you’d be hungry.”

“thank you,” he said sincerely, picking up a piece of fruit.

“don’t thank me,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. “i only brought it so you don’t cause trouble.”

the man bit into the fruit, the sweet juice bursting on his tongue. “trouble? i’m sitting here with a bruised ego and no boat. what kind of trouble could i possibly cause?”

“you’d be surprised,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

he smiled faintly, taking another bite of fruit. “what’s your name?”

“that’s none of your business,” she shot back, her tone defensive.

“fair enough,” he replied easily, leaning back against the tree. “i’m hyunjin, by the way.”

y/n didn’t respond, though her eyes flickered to his face. he was so strange, so unfamiliar, yet she couldn’t deny that he was… beautiful. his delicate features seemed carved by the gods themselves, and the mole beneath his eye only added to his charm.

“you’re staring,” hyunjin said, his voice teasing.

y/n snapped out of her thoughts, her cheeks burning. “i wasn’t staring!”

“you were,” he said, smiling softly.

“stop talking,” she muttered, flustered.

hyunjin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you’re not very good at being intimidating, are you?”

“i am so!” she retorted, her wings flaring slightly in defiance.

“you’re more like an angry butterfly,” he said, his tone playful.

y/n glared at him, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

after a moment, her curiosity got the better of her. “you said you’re a traveler. where are you from?”

hyunjin hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “a kingdom far from here.”

“kingdom?”

“aestheria,” he said simply.

y/n’s eyes widened slightly. “aetheria? the kingdom of golden spires?”

he nodded, a small smile on his lips. “you’ve heard of it?”

“only in stories,” she said softly. “i didn’t think it was.. real.”

“it is,” hyunjin said, his tone gentle. “and i’m a prince.”

y/n’s jaw dropped, though she quickly shut it, trying to compose herself. “you’re a… prince?”

“yes.”

she crossed her arms, trying to appear unimpressed. “you don’t look like a prince.”

hyunjin laughed lightly. “what does a prince look like, then?”

“not like… that,” she said, gesturing vaguely at him.

“ouch, way to add to my already broken ego.. but anyway, i really am,” he said with a faint smile, watching her reaction with amusement.

y/n tried to appear unaffected, but her wide eyes betrayed her awe. she turned away, her wings folding neatly against her back as she muttered, “i don’t care if you’re a prince. you still don’t belong here.”

hyunjin smiled to himself, leaning back against the tree as he watched her with quiet fascination.

a soft, shimmering light caught y/n's attention as a tiny butterfly-like pixie fluttered toward her. its delicate wings shimmered with hues of lavender and gold, leaving a faint trail of glittering dust in the air. y/n froze, her heart racing. pixie butterflies only showed up when something urgent needed to be said.

“y/n!” the pixie squeaked in a high-pitched but anxious voice, hovering near her shoulder. her tiny frame quivered nervously as she glanced back toward the direction of the hut.

“what is it, lunis?” y/n asked, her voice low, her eyes darting briefly toward hyunjin, who was still leaning against the tree, his sharp gaze quietly observing the interaction.

lunis hesitated, wringing its tiny hands as it hovered closer to her ear. “who is this? who is this man?!” she whispered frantically, though her voice carried enough for hyunjin to catch the distress in her tone.

y/n stiffened. “lunis—please—don’t be loud!” she tried to wave the pixie off, hoping to calm her nervous flurry.

the pixie ignored her, her tiny eyes wide with panic. “you know how felix will react, y/n! he’ll—he’ll lose his wings if he finds out!”

y/n winced, her heart sinking at the mention of felix. she knew exactly what lunis meant. felix’s overprotectiveness was both his strength and his flaw. he’d do anything to keep the place safe, even if it meant being harsh.

“i know,” she whispered, her voice tight. “but i couldn’t just leave him. look at him!” she gestured at hyunjin, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing, his gaze flickering between y/n and the panicked pixie.

lunis turned to hyunjin, her tiny hands clutching her head dramatically. “a human?! a human! on dewmist woods? this is—this is—”

“calm down!” y/n snapped quietly, her wings flickering in agitation.

“i can’t calm down!” lunis hissed. “felix will see! he’ll know! he always knows!”

hyunjin, sensing the tension, decided to interject. “i’m not here to hurt anyone, little one,” he said softly, his deep voice carrying an almost soothing quality.

the pixie froze, her tiny wings fluttering erratically.

“it talks..” lunis whispered, her voice dripping with suspicion. “humans talk. humans lie!”

“lunis!” y/n scolded, turning to face the pixie fully. “he’s injured. i healed him. what was i supposed to do? let him bleed out on the shore?”

“so you did heal me.”

“you, stay quiet!”

“yes!” lunis shrieked, then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, looking horrified at her own words. “no! i didn’t mean that, but—oh, y/n, you don’t understand! felix will scold you! he’ll never trust you again!”

y/n flinched at the thought, her heart heavy. she loved felix dearly—he was like an older brother to her—but she couldn’t ignore how overbearing he could be. he’d never let her out of his sight again if he found out about this.

“be quick, y/n!” lunis pleaded, tugging on her sleeve with her tiny hands. “get him away from here before felix sees! he’s out gathering wood, but he could come back any moment! please, please! go home before it’s too late!”

y/n’s mind raced. she glanced at hyunjin, who was now watching her with a strange mix of curiosity and concern. his dark eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt.

“i can’t just—” she started, but lunis interrupted her.

“you can,” the pixie insisted. “you must. or felix will—” she stopped mid-sentence, her tiny frame trembling.

“felix will what?” hyunjin asked suddenly, his voice calm but firm.

lunis let out a tiny squeak and darted behind y/n’s shoulder, clearly intimidated. “none of your business, human!”

“god forbid a man is curious.” hyunjin sighed, his gaze flickering to y/n. “you’re not very good at hiding things, are you?”

y/n shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing. “quiet,” she muttered.

lunis tugged on her sleeve again. “y/n, please! you’re my friend, and i don’t want felix to yell at you. he’s so scary when he’s upset!”

“i know,” y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. she felt torn, her heart aching under the weight of the pixie’s fear and her own guilt.

hyunjin leaned back against the tree, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “i take it this felix person isn’t very fond of strangers,”

y/n’s wings flickered again, betraying her nerves. “that’s putting it lightly,” she muttered.

“then perhaps i should leave,” hyunjin suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.

“bingo! so, the human thinks too-”

y/n hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and lunis. “you can’t leave!” she said finally. “not yet. you’re still weak- and you don’t have a boat.”

there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he knew she wouldn’t let him go so easily.

lunis groaned, flitting in front of her face. “y/n, think about this! felix—”

“i’ll handle felix,” y/n said firmly, surprising both lunis and herself.

hyunjin’s eyebrows rose, and lunis blinked at her, her tiny mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“you… you’ll handle him?” lunis stammered. “y/n, you can’t even argue with a butterfly!”

y/n crossed her arms, her wings glowing faintly with determination. “i’ll figure it out! trust me!”

hyunjin watched her, a flicker of admiration in his dark eyes. “you’re braver than you look,” he said softly.

y/n shot him a look, her cheeks warming. “don’t push your luck, human.”

lunis groaned, throwing her tiny hands in the air. “fine! but don’t say i didn’t warn you! if felix catches you—oh, it’ll be awful! just awful!”

with one last worried glance at hyunjin, the pixie flitted away, her shimmering trail disappearing into the forest.

y/n let out a shaky breath, her wings drooping slightly. she turned to hyunjin, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his expression unreadable.

“you really do have a lot of secrets,” he said, his voice quiet but teasing.

“don’t get used to it,” she replied, her tone sharp. “you’re not staying forever.”

y/n watched lunis disappear into the forest, her stomach twisting with anxiety. she turned back to the human, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his dark eyes now focused on the soft glow of her wings.

he tilted his head, clearly curious but not prying.

“you’re making this very difficult,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she tried to figure out what to do next.

“i don’t think i’m the one sneaking around on my own island, trying to hide a human.”

y/n glared at him, though her wings gave a faint flicker of nervous energy. “you’re not helping.”

“i wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” he replied smoothly, his tone carrying just enough teasing to make her grit her teeth.

with a frustrated sigh, the faerie glanced toward the forest path leading back to their hut. felix could be back at any moment, and if lunis—or any of the other pixies—decided to snitch, things could spiral very quickly.

“alright,” she said firmly, snapping hyunjin out of his casual amusement. “you’re coming with me.”

he blinked, straightening up slightly. “i am?”

“yes,” she said, grabbing the leftover food and tucking it into a small woven pouch at her side. “you can’t stay out here. if felix sees you…” she trailed off, her wings giving an involuntary twitch at the thought.

he raised an eyebrow. “this felix must be quite terrifying.”

“considering you're a human, you can say that.”

“he’s not terrifying,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. “he’s just… protective. and if he sees you, he’ll—” she paused, wringing her hands nervously. “you'll probably have a death wish.”

hyunjin’s lips twitched as though suppressing a laugh. “sounds like someone i’d love to meet.”

“you’re not meeting him!” she snapped, flustered. “now, come on. and be quiet.”

without giving him a chance to argue, she tugged at his arm. to her surprise, he followed her without complaint, his long strides making it easy to keep up.

“where are we going?” he asked, his voice low enough not to echo through the forest.

“somewhere felix won’t look,” she said simply, her eyes darting around nervously as they walked.

“do you even know where that is?”

“yes!” she said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction.

hyunjin chuckled softly, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting. “you’re terrible at lying.”

she shot him a glare over her shoulder. “quiet.”

eventually, they reached a small grove not far from the hut but hidden enough by thick vines and towering trees. y/n pushed aside some of the greenery, revealing a small hollow nestled against the roots of a massive tree.

“here,” she said, gesturing for him to duck inside.

hyunjin looked at the hollow, then back at her with a raised eyebrow. “you want me to hide in there?”

“did i ask you to argue?” she said, exasperated. “ it’s temporary, just until i figure out what to do.”

he sighed dramatically but crouched down, squeezing into the hollow. once inside, he leaned back against the tree roots, his legs stretched out awkwardly.

“comfortable?” she asked sarcastically.

“very,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. “the best in town.”

y/n rolled her eyes and began to pull the vines back into place, ensuring the hollow was completely hidden. “stay here. don’t make a sound. and if you hear anything—”

“run?” he offered, his lips twitching into a smile.

“hide,” she corrected, giving him a stern look.

hyunjin chuckled again, resting his head against the tree roots. “yes, ma’am.”

y/n sighed, stepping back to inspect her handiwork. it wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. she turned to head back to the hut, but as soon as she stepped out of the grove, she froze.

felix was standing a few feet away, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. he held a bundle of firewood in his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto her emerald ones.

“y/n,” he said slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “what are you doing out here?”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and she forced a smile onto her face. “oh, just… exploring!”

felix tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “exploring? near the grove we’ve told you a hundred times to stay away from?”

y/n faltered, her wings fluttering nervously. “it’s not that dangerous…”

felix stepped closer, his gaze narrowing. “what are you hiding?”

“hiding?” she repeated, her voice going an octave higher. “i’m not hiding anything!”

felix raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the area. “y/n.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden rustling from the grove behind her made her heart stop.

“what was that?” felix asked, his eyes snapping to the source of the sound.

“probably just a squirrel!” she said quickly, stepping in front of him to block his path.

felix’s gaze darkened. “move.”

“felix—”

“move, y/n,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding.

before she could argue, another rustle came from the grove, followed by a soft, muffled curse. y/n’s stomach dropped as she recognized the voice.

felix’s eyes widened, and without another word, he pushed past her, shoving the vines aside to reveal hyunjin crouched awkwardly in the hollow.

for a moment, there was silence. felix stared at hyunjin, his expression unreadable, while hyunjin blinked up at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“well,” hyunjin said casually, leaning back against the tree roots. “this is awkward.”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “oh no…”

felix slowly turned to look at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “y/n.”

“felix, i can explain—”

“explain?” he repeated, his voice rising. “you’ve been hiding a human?!”

“it’s not what it looks like!” she said desperately.

felix gestured wildly at hyunjin. “it looks like there’s a human sitting in our grove!”

hyunjin raised a hand in a mock wave. “pleased to meet you too.”

felix ignored him, his focus entirely on y/n. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is? what were you thinking?”

“i was thinking i couldn’t let him die!” she shot back, her wings flaring slightly.

felix opened his mouth to argue, but hyunjin interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “if it helps, i don’t plan on hurting anyone.”

felix turned to glare at him. “you’re not helping.”

hyunjin shrugged. “didn’t think i was.”

“you just said you were.”

“details.”

y/n groaned again, pulling at her hair.

hyunjin glanced at y/n, who looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “looks like i’m staying,” he said with a small smile.

felix stood between y/n and hyunjin, his shoulders squared, his blue eyes ice-cold as they bore into hyunjin's. his usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with sharp intensity, his protective instincts flaring like a storm.

“inside,” felix said, his voice low but unyielding as he gestured toward the hut.

y/n hesitated, her wings fluttering nervously behind her. “but—”

“now,” felix interrupted, his tone firm and final.

y/n frowned, her voice rising slightly. “felix, we can just sort this out tog—”

he turned to her sharply, his frustration evident. “y/n, he could be a monster for all we know!”

that was the breaking point. her wings flared, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “i’m sick of you trying to protect me as if i’m some fragile kid! i know how to protect myself!”

felix’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t soften. instead, his voice grew quieter, steadier, but still firm. “this isn’t up for debate. go inside.”

y/n’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fists clenching at her sides as she glared at him. for a moment, it looked like she might argue again, but she sighed heavily instead. her wings drooped slightly as she turned away, her voice quieter but still laced with frustration. “you're being unreasonable.”

without looking back, she made her way to the hut, her footsteps heavier than usual. the door shut behind her with a soft thud, leaving an uncomfortable silence between felix and hyunjin.

hyunjin, still seated near the hollow, raised an eyebrow as he observed felix. “that was… intense,” he said, his tone light but not mocking.

felix didn’t respond immediately. he crossed his arms, his posture rigid as he looked down at the stranger. “who are you?” he asked, his voice cold and unyielding.

“i told her already,” hyunjin replied evenly, though there was a flicker of tension in his voice. “my name is hyunjin. i’m—”

“i didn’t ask for your name,” felix interrupted, stepping closer as he pulled out a dagger from his satchel. “i asked who you are. what are you doing here? where did you come from?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure. “i was shipwrecked. that’s all.”

felix narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping lower. “and yet you just so happened to wash up on our island? a place no human has ever stepped foot on before?”

hyunjin met his gaze, his dark eyes steady. “it wasn’t intentional, i assure you. my ship was caught in a storm. i didn’t even know this place existed.”

felix tilted his head slightly, studying him with an almost predatory sharpness. “convenient, isn’t it? that you just happened to end up here, on an island full of creatures you filthy humans only tell stories about?”

hyunjin’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “you seem to think i had a choice in the matter.”

felix took another step closer, his voice sharp. “i don’t trust you. we don't trust you. and if you so much as look at y/n the wrong way—”

“i won’t harm any of you,” hyunjin interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “i swear it.”

felix’s eyes narrowed further. “words mean nothing. especially from a human.”

hyunjin sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “you’re protective of the island. i understand that. but i have no intention of hurting her or anyone else here. i’m just trying to survive.”

felix didn’t respond immediately, his sharp gaze lingering on hyunjin as though he could see through him. the tension between them was thick, the air charged with unspoken threats.

finally, felix stepped back slightly, though his posture remained tense. “if you’re lying—if you’re here for anything other than survival—i will find out. and you won’t like what happens next.”

hyunjin nodded once, his expression serious. “understood.”

felix’s gaze lingered on him for another moment before he turned toward the hut. “stay here,” he ordered. “don’t move until i say so.”

as felix walked away, hyunjin let out a slow breath, leaning back against the tree roots. he glanced toward the hut, where he could faintly see y/n’s silhouette through the window.

the evening sun painted the sky with shades of amber and pink, its warm glow spilling through the trees and casting dappled light onto the forest floor.

y/n approached hyunjin cautiously, her small frame barely making a sound as she stepped over roots and leaves. her hands clutched a wooden tray of food she’d carefully prepared—fruits, nuts, and a bowl of fresh water gathered from the spring. her wings, brighter now in the fading light, folded neatly behind her, their tips brushing the sides of her flowing dress.

hyunjin sat by the same tree, his legs stretched out and his arms resting on his knees. he looked up as she approached, his dark eyes catching the golden light. a faint smile curved his lips, the kind that felt like a secret shared only between the two of them, though she wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate.

“you again,” he said lightly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the tense energy she brought with her. “i thought your guard dog would’ve chained you to the hut by now.”

“don’t,” she cut him off sharply, her voice firmer than he’d ever heard it before. she stopped a few paces away, her fingers tightening around the tray. “i didn’t come here to exchange jokes.”

his smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression of mild surprise. he sat up straighter, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “alright,” he said carefully, leaning back against the tree. “what d-”

“you need to leave, hyunjin.”

the words hung in the air, heavier than the twilight. hyunjin’s eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. “so you agree now?”

“yes,” she said, stepping closer and setting the tray down on the ground between them. she straightened, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared down at him. “felix is right. lunis is right. you shouldn’t be here. you don’t belong here.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing despite the weight of her words. “harsh. you’re not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, are you?”

she didn’t respond to his humor, her face remaining serious. “this island is not meant for humans like you. it’s dangerous—for you and for us.”

“dangerous?” he echoed, his voice softening slightly. “i don’t see anything dangerous about you, though.” his gaze flicked to her wings, his expression unreadable.

her wings twitched slightly, a reflex she couldn’t suppress, but her face didn’t falter. “that’s exactly the problem,” she said quietly. “you don’t understand. you don’t know what you’ve stumbled into.”

hyunjin leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked up at her. “then explain it to me. help me understand.”

“no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “it’s not for you to know! it’s not for you to be here. you need to leave.”

he let out a soft sigh, leaning back again. “i need to.. but how do you expect me to leave? swim?”

“i don’t care how you leave,” she said, her voice harder now, though there was a tremble beneath it that betrayed her emotions. “you just… you can’t stay. we don’t know you. we don’t know what you’ll bring here.”

hyunjin was silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “you’re scared of me.”

her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her wings fluttering slightly behind her. “i’m not scared of you,” she said, though the words sounded more like a defense than a truth.

“you are,” he said softly. “not for yourself, maybe. but for the others. for the island.”

her gaze snapped back to him, her eyes narrowing. “don’t pretend like you know me. you don’t know anything about me or why i’m asking you to leave.”

he raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. “alright, fair enough. i don’t know you. but i do know one thing—you healed me.”

her breath hitched slightly, and she looked away again. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“yes, you do,” he said, his tone still gentle. “i woke up, and the wounds were gone. that wasn’t an accident. that was you.”

“you quite almost admitted it to your little.. pixie back at the shore, you know.”

her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her wings twitched again, a faint glow pulsing through them despite the dim light. “you’re hearing things,” she said, her voice quieter now.

he didn’t push her further, sensing the walls she’d built around herself. instead, he leaned back again, his head resting against the tree trunk as he let out a soft sigh. “alright, i’ll leave. but let me ask you something first.”

she looked at him warily, her wings settling behind her. “what?”

“if you were so certain i shouldn’t be here,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “why did you save me?”

the question hit her like a gust of wind, stealing the breath from her lungs. she opened her mouth to respond but found no words, her voice lost somewhere in the turmoil of her thoughts.

“i…” she began, but the sound of felix’s voice calling her name from the hut cut through the air like a blade.

her wings snapped shut against her back, and she took a step away from hyunjin. “i have to go,” she said quickly, her voice unsteady.

“of course,” he said softly, watching as she turned and hurried back toward the hut, her wings shimmering faintly in the fading light.

as she disappeared into the trees, hyunjin leaned his head back against the trunk, a faint, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “you're scared,” he murmured to himself, “but not of me.”

and that's how their story began.

the soft babble of the stream echoed through the forest as y/n crouched by the water’s edge, her wings glimmering faintly under the dappled sunlight. she was humming a soft tune, her hands carefully filling a large, carved wooden bowl with the crystal-clear water. hyunjin approached quietly from behind, his presence as calm as the gentle breeze.

“you hum a lot,” hyunjin said, crouching beside her. his voice was low but playful, laced with the kind of teasing she’d grown used to over the past two months.

y/n glanced at him, her brown eyes sparkling. “and you sulk a lot.”

hyunjin chuckled, dipping his hands into the stream to feel the coolness of the water. “i don’t sulk.”

“oh, you do,” she replied, lifting the bowl and standing up. she turned to him, her wings fluttering slightly. “you sulk when felix doesn’t trust you, you sulk when i win an argument, and you definitely sulk when you get caught staring.”

he froze mid-motion, his dark eyes widening slightly before narrowing into an embarrassed glare. “i do not—”

“do too,” she cut him off, sticking her tongue out playfully before turning to walk back toward the hut.

hyunjin stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, her light brown hair catching the sun and her wings shimmering like they were spun from golden silk. he let out a soft, defeated laugh before following her.

the hut was filled with the earthy scent of freshly picked mushrooms and herbs. y/n stood at the small wooden counter, chopping the ingredients with quick, precise movements. hyunjin leaned against the wall nearby, watching her with an amused expression.

“are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” y/n asked without looking up, her voice sweet but teasing.

“you think i'm pretty?”

“everyone's pretty.”

“fine then, i’m more useful looking pretty,” hyunjin quipped, crossing his arms. “besides, last time i tried to help, felix nearly threw me out for ruining the stew.”

y/n giggled, her wings twitching slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “you can’t ruin this one. it’s just mushroom soup. even you can’t mess that up.”

he pushed off the wall and came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers lightly. “fine. tell me what to do, boss.”

“start with these,” she said, handing him a bundle of herbs. “tear the leaves off gently. don’t crush them.”

hyunjin took the herbs and began working, his fingers surprisingly deft. for a moment, they worked in comfortable silence, the sound of chopping and the crackle of the fire filling the room.

“you’re getting better at this,” y/n admitted, glancing at him.

he smirked, meeting her gaze. “careful, y/n. if you keep complimenting me, i might start thinking you like having me around.”

“don’t push your luck, prince.”

the night was calm, the sky above them a tapestry of stars. y/n and hyunjin sat on a log near the edge of the forest, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance.

y/n hugged her knees to her chest, her wings tucked neatly behind her. “do you miss it?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“miss what?” hyunjin asked, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the stars.

“the kingdom. your home.”

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the heavens. “sometimes,” he admitted. “but it’s not like the stories, y/n. it’s not all grand halls and royal banquets. there’s… a lot of pressure. expectations.”

she looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity. “but you were a prince. isn’t that… amazing?”

hyunjin turned to her, his expression soft but serious. “it sounds amazing until you realize you don’t get to choose your own life. you don’t get to be free.” he paused, his gaze dropping to her wings. “here, it’s different. you’re free.”

she blinked, taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. “but we’re not free either. we’re trapped on this island, waiting for something we’re not even sure exists anymore.”

hyunjin reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. “you don’t seem trapped to me,” he said softly.

her cheeks flushed, and she quickly pulled her hand back, breaking the moment. “you’re impossible,” she muttered, standing up.

“and you’re adorable,” he called after her, earning a glare that was more flustered than angry.

the three of them sat around the fire in the hut, felix sharpening a knife while hyunjin and y/n bickered about something trivial.

“i’m just saying,” hyunjin argued, leaning forward, “if i were in charge of gathering berries, we wouldn’t have run out last week.”

“that’s because you’d eat them all before we even got home,” y/n shot back, her wings twitching in irritation.

felix snorted, surprising both of them. they turned to look at him, and he shrugged, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “she’s got a point, hyunjin.”

hyunjin gasped in mock betrayal. “et tu, felix?”

“don’t push your luck,” felix said, though his tone was lighter than usual. he glanced at y/n, his expression softening. “you two are loud enough to scare away every creature in the forest.”

“as if we're not all friends with them.” y/n stuck her tongue out at him, but the warmth in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. despite his cautious nature, felix had grown used to hyunjin’s presence, even if he didn’t fully trust him yet.

“hold still,” hyunjin said, stepping closer.

she froze as he reached up, his fingers gently pulling a vine free from her tangled brown hair. his touch was careful, almost reverent, and when he looked down at her, their faces were inches apart.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with her. his dark eyes searched hers, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

“you have the worst luck with plants,” he murmured.

“and you have the worst timing,” she shot back, though her voice was soft.

his smile widened, but he didn’t move away.

“y/n! hyunjin!” felix’s voice called from inside the hut, breaking the moment.

she stepped back quickly, her cheeks flushing as she turned toward the door. “we’re coming!” she called, her voice higher than usual.

hyunjin watched her retreat, a small, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “saved by the guard dog,” he muttered under his breath, following her inside.

the day began like any other. the sun rose over the island, golden light cascading through the trees, and the morning was filled with the soft hum of the forest’s life. y/n fluttered about the hut as usual, her wings shimmering faintly in the light, while hyunjin watched her with his usual soft amusement. felix was out gathering supplies, leaving the two alone.

by midday, y/n had gone quiet. she drifted to the shore after lunch, her head low, her shoulders slumped. hyunjin watched her go but didn’t follow right away. she often needed time to herself, especially when the weight of their missing friends grew heavy in her heart.

she sat near the edge of the water, her wings folded tightly against her back as she drew aimless patterns in the sand with her finger. the gentle waves lapped at the shore, and the sound, usually comforting, only reminded her of the emptiness she felt. the pixie butterflies, always fluttering nearby, hovered uncertainly.

“y/n,” one of them chirped, its tiny voice tinged with concern. “you shouldn’t be sad. they’ll come back. they always come back.”

she gave the butterfly a small, weary smile. “i hope so,” she murmured. “but it’s been so long. what if something happened to them? what if they can’t find their way back?”

another pixie, its glow faint in the daylight, landed on her knee. “you’re not alone,” it said, its voice soft. “you have us. you have felix. and… you have him.”

y/n blinked, her gaze lifting toward the trees. she could see a figure approaching, and her heart sank slightly. she didn’t want him to see her like this.

but it was too late. hyunjin was already there.

“hey,” hyunjin called softly, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

she quickly wiped at her eyes, pretending she hadn’t been crying. “what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

“looking for you,” hyunjin sat beside her, his dark eyes scanning her face. he frowned. “you’ve been crying.”

“no, i haven’t,” she lied, turning away.

“y/n,” he said again, his voice gentle but firm. he reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm. “talk to me.”

for a moment, she didn’t respond. the silence stretched between them, filled only by the rhythm of the waves. finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“i miss them,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “felix acts like everything’s fine, but what if it’s not? what if they’re hurt? or… or worse?”

hyunjin’s chest tightened at the sight of her distress. he’d seen her cheerful, teasing, radiant. this version of her—fragile and vulnerable—pulled at something deep inside him.

“they’ll come back,” he said softly. “they wouldn’t leave you behind. not forever.”

she shook her head, her wings trembling slightly. “you don’t know that. you don’t know them.”

“no, i don’t,” he admitted. “but i know you. and i know your love for them. and that you’re strong enough to wait for them. strong enough to hope.”

her lip trembled, and she looked away, but he wasn’t going to let her retreat.

he shifted closer, sitting beside her in the sand. he didn’t speak right away, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. slowly, hesitantly, she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

he froze for a moment, startled by the sudden closeness, but then his body relaxed. his arm came up around her shoulders, holding her gently.

“i don’t want to be strong all the time,” she confessed, her voice muffled against him.

“you don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “not with me.”

the pixie butterflies fluttered around them, their tiny voices whispering reassurances, but neither y/n nor hyunjin paid them any mind.

“you’re better at this than i thought,” she muttered after a moment, her voice tinged with the faintest hint of her usual teasing.

hyunjin chuckled softly. “at what?”

“at… comforting,” she said, her wings twitching slightly.

“i’m a quick learner,” he replied, his tone warm.

the sun had soon began to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange. the golden light bathed them, and y/n finally pulled away, just enough to look up at him. her eyes searched his face, taking in the softness of his expression, the way the light danced in his dark eyes.

“why are you always here when i need you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“maybe because i need you too,” he said simply.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them moved. the world seemed to hold its breath with them, the only sound the gentle crash of the waves.

hyunjin’s hand came up, hesitating for a moment before brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered, and his gaze dropped to her lips.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

she didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. and that was all the invitation he needed. slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft and hesitant but full of unspoken feelings.

his breath was warm, tasting faintly of honey and wild berries as it mingled with hers, soft and trembling against the curve of her mouth. the kiss was delicate at first, like a whispered secret, but it deepened with the gravity of unspoken longing — slow, careful, reverent. his hand rose instinctively to cradle her face, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as if to memorize the contours of her fragility.

her wings quivered behind her, the faint luminescence pulsing in rhythm with her heart, each beat a spark of life tethered to his touch. as the kiss unfolded, her fingers knotted into the coarse fabric of his tunic, grasping as if he might vanish like a dream. a small sigh escaped her lips as his kiss became more certain, a tender pressure that spoke of yearning held back for too long.

there, between them, time stretched and blurred. every fleeting caress of his lips on hers sent a warmth spiraling through her chest, a fire that burned but did not consume. when they finally drew apart, breathless and trembling, their foreheads touched, the world around them silent but for the echo of their shared heartbeat. neither dared speak, afraid that words might shatter the fragile, aching beauty of the moment.

“thank you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

“for what?” he asked, his voice equally soft.

“for being here.”

he smiled, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “always.”

and as the first stars began to appear in the night sky, they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the rest of the world forgotten.

the sun was low in the sky, its warm hues bleeding into the deep green of the woods and the soft blues of the shore. y/n and hyunjin walked side by side, the sand beneath their feet cool as the tide ebbed and flowed. felix had stayed behind at the hut, muttering something about needing to sort the herbs and supplies, though they both knew he was giving them space.

hyunjin held a woven basket filled with fruits they’d picked from the trees near the shore. it wasn’t heavy, but he made a show of carrying it with exaggerated effort.

“oh no,” he groaned dramatically, his knees bending as if he might collapse under the imaginary weight. “it’s just… so heavy. i’m not sure i’ll make it.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “you’re insufferable,” she said, plucking a bright blue fruit from the basket and taking a bite. its juice stained her lips, the taste sweet and tangy.

“i’m the one carrying the basket, y/n,” he shot back, smirking. “the least you could do is thank me.”

“thank you, oh mighty prince,” she replied, her voice dripping with mock reverence. “how ever would i survive without your unparalleled strength?”

he laughed, the sound light and genuine, and y/n felt her heart flutter. she looked away quickly, pretending to focus on a tiny cluster of pixie butterflies that flitted nearby.

as the day stretched into the golden hues of the late afternoon, they moved into the woods. the canopy above was thick, filtering the sunlight into soft beams that danced across the ground. hyunjin reached up to pluck a low-hanging flower with petals that shimmered faintly, handing it to y/n with a flourish.

“for you,” he said with a grin, holding it out dramatically as if offering her the most precious treasure.

y/n accepted it with a small laugh, tucking it into her hair. “do you do this for all the ladies you meet?”

“just the prettiest ones,” he said, winking, and she smacked his arm lightly.

they walked further, hyunjin listening intently as y/n pointed out different plants and their uses. he was fascinated by how much she knew about the forest, about the life that thrived here.

“you know,” he said, leaning against a tree, “i used to think the stories about faeries and magical islands were just that—stories. something to entertain bored princesses.”

“and now?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.

“now i think the stories didn’t do you justice,” he said softly, and her cheeks flushed.

by the time night fell, they were lying on a patch of soft grass beneath the open sky. the stars were brilliant, their light scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas. fireflies danced in the air, their glow adding a soft warmth to the cool night.

y/n lay on her back, her wings spread out behind her like a shimmering halo. hyunjin lay beside her, his head propped on one arm as he watched her.

“you know,” he said after a moment, “i think i could stay here forever.”

she turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowing slightly. “you say that now,” she said. “but what about your kingdom? your life there?”

he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “what about it? it doesn’t feel like my life anymore.”

y/n was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “you don’t miss it?”

“there are things i miss,” he admitted. “my mother, for one. but most of it? no. i was born into a life that was decided for me. here, with you and felix… it feels like i’m finally making my own choices.”

y/n smiled softly at that, her heart warming. “i’m glad you feel that way.”

he shifted closer, his arm brushing against hers. “what about you?” he asked. “do you ever wish for something more than this island?”

she thought about it, her eyes fixed on the sky. “sometimes,” she said honestly. “but then i think about how much i love this place. the forest, the creatures, felix, our friends… it’s my home.”

“it’s a beautiful home,” hyunjin said softly.

they talked for hours, their voices soft and steady as the night deepened around them. hyunjin told her stories of his childhood, of the palace gardens and the books he’d read. y/n shared tales of the forest, of her first flight, and the mischief she’d gotten into with felix.

at some point, y/n’s eyelids began to droop, her words becoming slower and softer. hyunjin noticed and smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of her peaceful expression.

“sleep, y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

“i’m fine,” she mumbled, but her wings gave a small, sleepy flutter.

he shook his head, chuckling softly. “come here,” he said, reaching out to pull her closer.

she didn’t resist, letting him wrap an arm around her and pull her against his chest. his other hand rested lightly on the edge of her wings, careful not to disturb them.

“you’re warm,” she muttered, her voice muffled against him.

“good,” he said, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. “now sleep.”

her breathing slowed, and soon she was asleep, her body relaxed against his. hyunjin stayed awake a little longer, his eyes fixed on the stars above. he didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, with y/n in his arms and the forest around them, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

the forest was deathly quiet under the pale silver of the moon. the fireflies were gone, the night was still, and the warm hum of life that usually enveloped the woods felt like a distant memory. y/n stirred, her face pressing against the grass as her eyes fluttered open.

a searing, unbearable pain jolted through her entire body. it was a sharp, raw agony that made her gasp, her hands scrambling to her back. her heart stopped when her fingers brushed against the sticky wetness of her blood, now pooling and staining the grass.

she tried to sit up but collapsed back with a cry. her breathing was shallow and frantic as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. her wings—her beautiful, radiant wings—were gone. all she could feel was the torn flesh of her back, blood trickling down in rivulets.

her trembling gaze darted around the clearing, searching, desperate. feathers. blood. emptiness. the pain was unbearable, but the hollow ache in her heart felt worse.

“w-where…” she rasped, choking on the words. tears blurred her vision as her fingers clawed at the ground, pulling herself forward.

and then she saw him.

in the distance, just beyond the trees, hyunjin stood. his figure was shadowed under the moonlight, but she could make out the shape of her wings in his trembling hands. they drooped lifelessly, their glow gone, coated in her blood.

her breath hitched. a wave of disbelief and nausea overtook her as her eyes trailed to the dagger in his hand, its blade glinting with crimson.

“hyunjin…” her voice broke, barely above a whisper.

he flinched at the sound of her voice, his whole body stiffening. slowly, his head turned toward her, his face pale and twisted with torment.

“hyunjin!” her voice was louder now, raw and filled with anguish. she clawed at the grass, dragging her weakened body toward him. “w-what… what did you…?”

he didn’t move. his grip on her wings was trembling, his eyes wide with tears. “y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “i—”

“you… you c-cut them?” she stammered, her lips quivering as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. her body was shaking violently now, both from the pain and the heartbreak. “m-my wings… why?”

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t. his jaw quivered, and his knees threatened to give out.

“i trusted you,” she choked out, her voice rising with each word. “i… i loved you, hyunjin. and you—”

“i love you,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. tears streamed down his face, but his hands gripped the wings tighter, his knuckles white. “i… i’m so sorry, y/n. i… i had no choice.. i had t-”

“no,” she screamed, her voice breaking into a sob. “no, you didn’t! you didn’t have to—” her words dissolved into cries, her body collapsing to the ground as her strength gave out.

“i’m so sorry,” hyunjin whispered again, his voice trembling. he took one faltering step back, then another. “i didn’t… i didn’t want to…”

“don’t go,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible now. her hand reached out weakly toward him, blood smearing the ground beneath her. “pleae, don’t…”

but he was already backing away, his expression twisted with anguish. “i… i can’t stay,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry…”

and then he turned, running toward the shore.

“hyunjin!” she called after him, but her voice cracked, her throat raw. she collapsed again, her vision swimming as the edges of her world began to darken.

the pixies found her first, their tiny voices shrill with panic. “y/n! oh no—oh no, no, no…”

they fluttered around her, their delicate wings buzzing frantically. one of them darted off into the woods, heading straight for felix.

felix burst into the clearing moments later, his eyes wide with horror as they landed on her crumpled form. “y/n!” he shouted, rushing to her side. his hands hovered above her, trembling as he took in the blood, the missing wings, the lifeless feathers scattered around her.

“who did this?” he demanded, his voice sharp with fury and heartbreak. “y/n, tell me! who—”

she couldn’t answer. her lips moved, but no sound came out. her eyes, filled with pain and betrayal, flickered toward the shore.

felix followed her gaze, and his heart sank. “no,” he breathed, his voice low and dangerous. “no. it couldn’t be…”

but deep down, he knew.

his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as rage overtook him. he stood abruptly, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the shore. “stay here,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “i’ll get him. i’ll make him pay for this.”

“felix…” y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but he was already gone, running toward the shore.

hyunjin was by the boat when felix arrived, frantically shoving supplies into it. his hands were shaking, and his face was pale, streaked with tears.

“you fucking bastard,” felix roared, his voice booming across the shore.

felix lunged forward, but before he could reach him, hyunjin pushed the boat into the water and jumped in. felix tried to grab him, but the boat was already drifting away, carried by the tide.

“coward!” felix shouted after him, his voice filled with rage and despair. “you’re nothing but a pathetic coward! all of you humans are the same,”

felix stood on the shore, his chest heaving as the weight of what had happened settled over him. slowly, he turned back toward the forest, his heart breaking all over again at the thought of y/n lying there, broken and betrayed.

the forest felt heavier than ever, suffocating under the weight of y/n’s broken sobs. the pixies fluttered around her in disarray, their tiny voices trembling with fear and sorrow. they tried their best to help her, but their small hands could do so little against the open wounds where her wings once were. blood soaked into the grass beneath her, and her body trembled violently as she tried to sit up.

felix was kneeling beside her, his hands trembling as he carefully inspected the jagged, raw flesh on her back. his breath hitched, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from breaking. he had always been her protector, her shield. but now, seeing her like this, so shattered and vulnerable, he felt utterly helpless.

y/n clutched at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the dirt as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. her sobs were wrenching, filled with a pain that cut deeper than anything felix had ever heard before.

“my wings…” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “they’re gone,” she choked on her words, her whole body shaking as tears streamed down her face. “he took them, he took them,”

felix clenched his jaw, his heart splintering into a thousand pieces. he carefully leaned closer, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “y/n, don’t… don’t try to move. please,” he begged, his voice almost breaking. “let me, let me take care of you.”

she turned her tear-streaked face toward him, her eyes filled with devastation. “felix, it hurts,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “it hurts so much…”

“i know,” he said, his voice shaking. he reached out to gently brush her hair away from her face, his touch tender and careful. “i know, y/nnie, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry. i couldn't protect you from that-”

the pixies flitted closer, their tiny hands trying to staunch the bleeding with makeshift cloths woven from leaves. their voices were small and filled with sorrow as they worked together, murmuring apologies and soft reassurances.

felix’s hands were steady despite his own breaking heart. he pressed a clean cloth—one the pixies handed him—against her back, trying to stop the bleeding. she let out a pained cry, her body arching slightly from the sting, and felix froze. “i’m sorry,” he whispered quickly, his voice trembling. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i have to stop the bleeding. i know it hurts. please don't leave me,”

her cries softened into whimpers as she buried her face into the crook of her arm, too weak to fight back. tears streamed freely down felix’s cheeks now, but he blinked them away, focusing entirely on her. “you’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice thick. “i’ll make sure of it. i promise.”

y/n’s voice was a broken whisper, her words catching on sobs. “he said he loved me, i trusted him, felix, i trusted him.”

felix felt something in his chest shatter entirely. he paused for a moment, his hands hovering above her wound as he struggled to compose himself. “i know,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together. “i know you did. and he… he didn’t deserve that trust. he didn’t deserve you.”

her crying only grew louder, her entire body trembling as she tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. felix couldn’t hold back anymore. he wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her fragile, trembling form against his chest. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft but shaking. “it’s okay, y/n. let it out. i’ve got you.”

she sobbed against him, her fists weakly clutching his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. felix held her tighter, his chin resting on the top of her head as tears slipped down his own cheeks. “you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you again. i promise.”

the pixies buzzed around them, their small hands still trying to help where they could. one of them placed a tiny hand on felix’s arm, their voice trembling. “we’ll take care of her, too,” they said softly. “we’ll stay by her side.”

felix nodded, his throat too tight to speak. his fingers gently combed through y/n’s hair, his heart aching with every broken sob that escaped her lips.

“it’s okay to cry,” he whispered after a moment, his voice soothing and steady. “you don’t have to hold it in, y/n. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

her sobs began to quiet after what felt like hours, her body still trembling but her breathing slowing. felix stayed with her, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his heart breaking with every tear she shed.

when her voice finally came, it was barely audible, a fragile whisper in the dark. “what am i without my wings, felix?”

“you’re y/n,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “you’re the strongest, kindest, most beautiful soul i’ve ever known. wings or no wings, you’re still you. and that’s all that matters.”

her tears came again, but this time they were softer, quieter. felix didn’t let go, holding her close as the night wore on. and in that moment, under the pale light of the moon, he silently vowed to never let anyone hurt her again.

y/n felt as though her soul had been torn in half, a gaping void where her wings once rested. the pain was not merely physical—it radiated deep into her core, an anguish that transcended her body and seeped into her spirit. it was as if the very essence of her being, the part that connected her to the skies and the world she loved, had been ripped away, leaving her hollow and unmoored.

the raw, jagged ache on her back was relentless, burning and stinging with every shallow breath she took. but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. her wings had been more than an extension of her body; they were her freedom, her identity, her connection to the magic of her world. without them, she felt like a shell of herself, reduced to something fragile and incomplete.

she could feel the emptiness, a haunting absence where her wings had once stretched, catching the sunlight and fluttering in the breeze. they had been a part of her, as vital as her heartbeat, as natural as her breath. now, she felt severed, unwhole, like a bird stripped of its feathers and cast to the ground, unable to fly, unable to soar.

the betrayal was a sharp, cutting ache that rivaled the physical pain. her mind replayed the scene over and over—the dagger glinting in the moonlight, the blood staining the earth, and the face she thought she could trust standing in the shadows. it was a cruel twist of fate, a nightmare come to life. she had let him in, let him see her, the parts of her that she guarded so carefully. and he had taken it all, with a single, merciless act.

tears poured down her face, each one heavy with grief, anger, and confusion. she didn’t understand. how could someone who had once spoken to her so tenderly, someone who had looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world, do this? how could he hold her heart in his hands and then shatter it so completely?

her chest heaved with the weight of her sobs, the sound raw and guttural, torn from a place deep inside her that she hadn’t even known existed. she felt like a child again—small, vulnerable, and helpless. her wings had been her strength, her shield against the world, and now they were gone, leaving her exposed and trembling.

she couldn’t stop the spiral of despair that consumed her. what was she now, without her wings? how could she face the world, the skies, her friends? she had always been the one who shone, who lifted others up with her light and laughter. now, she felt like nothing but a shadow, dim and fading.

the world around her seemed to dim as well, the colors muted, the sounds distant. the stars above, once her constant companions, felt cold and far away, as though they, too, had turned their backs on her. she felt untethered, adrift in a sea of pain and loss, with no anchor to hold onto, no way to find her way back.

every inch of her body ached, but it was her soul that bore the brunt of the pain. it was a grief so profound it swallowed her whole, leaving her gasping for air.

she was broken, utterly and completely, and she didn’t know if she could ever be pieced back together.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

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onlyangel4 · 3 months ago

Text

life of pain. LL30. part one. smau + written.

liam lawson x chronically ill reader

reader has dealt with pain for as long as she can remember but what she did not respect was for her pain to be the reason she met her soulmate.

author's note: i shall be writing this from experience so reader suffers from elher's danlos syndrome, chronic pain syndrome and chronic fatigue syndrome. but if you have a different chronic illness please do imagine it as that

faceclaim: kristine froseth

part two

y/ninsta posted a story

written: think i just won daughter of the year

y/ninsta posted a story

written: pj day

y/bff replied to this story: are you alright y/n you only wear pjs all day when it is a tough day

y/ninsta: i'm okay just been suffering the past week

y/bff: aren't you going to vegas soon

y/ninsta: fly out tomorrow

y/bff: just be safe okay love don't push yourself too far

y/ninsta posted a story

written: can't wait to celebrate you this weekend, love you dad

y/ninsta posted a story

written: fit check

y/ninsta posted a story

written: finally here

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"great more walking", you whispered under your breath as you tucked your phone back into your handbag. this was not your dad's fault, he had no idea that you had hardly gotten out of bed all week and now you were in las vegas pushing your body to do things that it really did not want to do. your lids were already heavy, ready for bed and it was barely 9pm, a feeling that you were used to but would never feel normal.

you had decided that you wanted to get good pictures from this trip, so you had only packed heels, a cruel way of forcing your pained body to wear the fashionable shoe rather than slipping into your good old faithful worn out sneakers.

slowly weaving through the crowd you made sure to keep your head up and not slump shoulders, a way of making sure the shooting pain in your shoulder didn't get worse. but as you walked your eyes looked up to see a large group of people walking towards you, they already looked drunk. fucking brilliant.

you just continued to walk forward feigning importance with each step but even then you got shoved by one of the men. your brow furrowed, no one got to disrespect you like that. you turned to get a look at the man who had shoved you and give him a piece of your mind but you quickly regretted that choice.

you twisted badly on your right near and as you were in heels there was no stopping your right knee from dislocating. something that happens all the time but does not get any less painful. your joint quickly popped out of place and then back in but the damage was done as a yelp left your lips and you crumbled down to the floor.

the people in the paddock were too preoccupied with the excitement that comes with attending a formula one race that they just did not notice you on a crumpled heap on the ground hand grasping your knee just to make sure that it was properly back in place.

you were getting yourself ready to stand back up all by yourself when you noticed a blonde man with his eyes looked on you making a beeline towards you. "shit are you alright, you took quite a spill there", he spoke and your brain registered the accent instantly. "i'm okay i do stupid stuff like this all the time", you spoke and the man gave you a gentle smile, "what exactly happened that looked a little more than a small fall?"

"my dislocated", you spoke seeing the usual horror spread on his face.

"shit do i need to call an ambulance"

"no, like i said this happens all the time"

the man looked at you with pure concern on his face, you could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work you out.

"i have elhers danlos, you probably have never heard of it but it just means my joints like to dislocate all the time"

prince charming slowly nodded, "okay lets get you up and then i can help you find your friends"

"i'm here with my dad, he text me saying he was in the williams garage. i was trying to find him"

"okay i'll help you find him", he spoke before wrapping his arm around your waist.

"if you are going to touch me like that i better know your name mister", you teased as you heaved yourself up into a standing position.

the man looked a little taken back by your question almost like you should have known who he was, "i'm liam", he smiled

"nice to to meet you liam, i'm y/n", you spoke before beginning the walk with him, his arm still around your waist, just helping you keep your balance as you hobbled over towards the williams garage.

the walk to the garage was really nice, liam was asking you all sorts of questions like where you were from and what your medical condition really meant for you. you yapped on about your life, enjoying the man's company as you got to the williams garage.

your father was stood outside eyes searching for you but when he spotted you and your company his mouth opened wider, "Oh y/n", he called out as you and liam approached him.

"you worried me girl, did something happen", he spoke still side eyeing liam making you quirk an eyebrow.

"i'm okay, my knee dislocated, i'm fine though", you spoke knowing how worried your father got sometimes.

but your father was a little more focused on the man next to you, "liam", he spoke, "it is lovely to meet you", he smiled and you frowned a little, how did your father know liam?

"i am very happy to see you back in f1, you drive brilliantly"< your father spoke and you gasped.

"shit, you are liam lawson, the new rb driver", you spoke turning to him, "i am so sorry i didn't recognise you, i am a casual f1 fan, my dad here is the real superfan", you explained to the man rambling on a little bit.

"that is okay y/n it was kind of refreshing to meet someone that doesn't know who i am", he spoke kindly, "i'm going to have to head back over to the garage for some media bits but i was wondering if i could have your number. i could hustle you two seats in the rb garage for the race", he spoke, "it will a lot safer there for you", he smiled.

your father was looking at you two starstruck and you just nodded, "of course", you spoke before he gave you his phone and you plugged your number in, "thank you for helping me liam", you spoke before waving him goodbye.

he left you stood there stunned as your father asked you ever question under the sun about your interaction with the driver.

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nightlyrequiem · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii, so I have a request, would it be possible to make a story where Valeria is the evil queen in her kingdom but her fiancée is the sweetest person in the kingdom? Also I love your work, keep it up, kisses, kisses ❤️💋

Hiii!

Before I even started writing fanfiction for Valeria, I wanted to write something like a royal/regency AU! I never got around to it because I never knew what to do. This was fun and definitely more challenging then what I usually do thanks :3

Also thank you lots XX

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Royal!AU, Implied Time Period Misogyny (But Not A Lot.), Implied Time Period Homophobia (Barely), Wedding

Blue Blooded

Valeria is as cold and cruel as the unforgiving north. She's led her own army to many different battles over the course of her twenty-year reign. Uncommon for rulers and even less common for women. She caused quite the stir, many believing women were too delicate and weak for war. Valeria's name quickly became known and feared. Reina de la Muerte. She leaves a trail of bodies wherever she goes. The treatment of her servants is poor, and the treatment of her subjects is worse. She rejoices in the fear induces.

One of the duties of a ruler is to produce an heir. Her advisors have been pestering her about finding a husband since she was coronated at seventeen. Something they quickly learned to stop doing. Her patience for men has always been low. Not once has she ever looked at one and felt any sort of connection. Valeria knew it was likely that she never would. Not when she only felt something when looking at another woman.

You were nothing more than a peasant. With a family who owned a failing farm. Cruelty breeds cruelty. Valeria's subjects have been forced into selfishness to survive. There's very little room for empathy when you're one day of work away from starvation. And yet, there you were. Dancing and laughing with a pack of filthy children. Despite the dullness to your skin and hair, you almost seemed to glow. Like there was a light inside of you strong enough to dispel the darkness Valeria had cast over the land. You were the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. It wasn't a one-time moment. Valeria had never noticed you before but one she did it's like she couldn't ever not see you. Using what little precious coins you have to buy food for the erratic beggar. Offering casual conversation to the local hag. Showing love to the mange-ridden strays prowling the cobble streets.

when Valeria was fourteen, her father had tried to set her up with princes of neighboring kingdoms. A political move to bring peace and potential allyship. Valeria fought tooth and nail. Refusing to even meet with the men. How she hated these traditions. Why should anyone but her decide who she marries? And yet, she found herself darkening your doorstep, nonetheless. Armed guards at her back. Your home was hardly more than a shack. Thatch roof coming loose at the ends and the smell of rot in the wood. The soil on your land was barren. Only cacti and weeds able to grow. A few sickly chickens ran loose around. Your father had answered the door, eyes yellowed from having one too many a drink. Asking for your hand in marriage was met with little resistance. His only trifle being that you were both women. Even that trepidation of course, was only told to her through his body language. Only the most stupidest of people would be willing to challenge the wants of Valeria.

Though with her reputation and promises of a handsome dowry... it didn't take long to get his agreement. Not that it would have mattered. Valeria would have burned down your little farm down and taken you anyway.

The night sky is clear. A dark, inky, endless void. An infinity of stars stretches across its expanse. It's only a week until your wedding and with every day Valeria spends you, she only becomes more enamored. Valeria gently grasps your left hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. There is no escort to keep watch over you two in the castle gardens. Just another rule and tradition Valeria has stomped on and discarded like nothing.

"You look lovely in the moonlight." She murmurs. you blink and look away nervously. You're as timid as a wood mouse. Something that both endears and irritates Valeria. She wants you to be comfortable. To bare your teeth in an uncontrolled smile, she longs to know what your laugh sounds like.

"Thank you."

She sighs. Lowering her hand and yours into her lap. Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand.

"Tell me how you feel about the wedding." She says.

"I am looking forward to it." You reply politely. A cool breeze blows through the area, disturbing her dark hair.

"No," Valeria shakes her head. "be honest with me. Tell me how you feel about the wedding." She demands softly.

Valeria watches you hesitate, trying to decipher if this is a trap or not. That you'll suffer harsh consequences for your honesty. Valeria isn't playing mind games with you, nor will she punish you. There is no wrong answer. Just a lovestruck woman desperate to know her fiancée's true feelings.

"I'm... anxious." You admit, not looking at her. Your free hand picks up a stray leaf, moving your thumb over the lines and groves.

"And me? What are your feelings around me?" She asks quietly. Valeria is no fool. She knows you don't really love her yet. That you're wary of her.

"... I'm not sure how I feel about you." You sigh. Letting go of the leaf. It flutters to the ground. You raise your gaze and meet her eyes. "When I came home, and my father told me of my betrothment to you I cried. You are cruel and unjust."

All things true, Valeria knows. She even prides herself on it, but hearing you say it doesn't make her feel as good about it. Your eyes dart across her face, searching for any sign of anger. When you find none, you continue.

"I thought I may faint when you asked to meet for the first time. I was dreading it." You murmur. "But then you weren't like anything I expected."

"I am exactly like how you expected." She counters gently. Giving your hand a small squeeze. "I am mean, and selfish, and bad. Everything said about me is true and I regret nothing. But I promise you this, I will be none of those things to you."

Your eyes seem to dim in disappointment. You had assumed that perhaps she was misunderstood. Valeria hates to disappointment you, but she won't hide what she is. A monster in royal robes.

"Oh."

"You're as precious as the crown." Valeria whispers. "An angel in the flesh. It's rare to meet someone not turned bitter by their circumstances. My - our - subjects will love you."

"But they don't love you." You reply. Frowning.

"I don't need their love, but they need yours." She sighs. She needs it too. Something that will soften her sharp edges.

Valeria sighs and leans towards you. Resting her forehead on your shoulder. For a second, she's a child again, not yet corrupted by her own cruelty. Like that inherit goodness inside of you is contagious.

Valeria seldom feels nervous, but waiting at the altar in her wedding gown, she can feel her palms growing clammy. Eyes are locked onto Valeria while she waits for her bride to be walked down the aisle. Subjects who silently disagree with how everything is progressing but hold no power to speak out. You and your father round the corner. Your extravagant white dress trailing behind you, an intricate lace veil hiding your face from view. The sight makes her heart swell. Your father walks you up to the altar and hands you off to Valeria. signifying the beginning of your new life.

Valeria takes your hands, catching the barest of glimpses of your face beneath the veil.

"We are gathered here today in the royal unification of these two individuals." The officiant begins. "Repeat these words after me before the lord, 'I promise to love you always, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you until death.'" You and Valeria both repeat his words. Valeria with a little more enthusiasm. You two say your 'I do's'. "Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you... wife and... wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Without hesitation Valeria lifts your veil. Your eyes glint in the light. She grabs ahold of your face with all the gentleness she can muster and brings her lips to yours. Finally tasting you for the first time. Your lips are soft, moulding to hers with ease. The kiss is short lived, but it won't be the last. Valeria pulls away and smiles. Something small and genuine, reserved only for you. To her surprise, your lips twitch up ever so slightly. Returning that sweet smile for a moment. The public crowd rises and gives their reluctant cheers. A few sounding more genuine than the others. Perhaps hoping that your kind nature rubs off on her.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x you #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod x you #cod x reader #cod

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medusapelagia · 6 months ago

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14 The betrothal

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Lake), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: prince and princess ), @aug-kissed (prompt: Hand Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Beta Robin Buckley, violence, blood and injuries, vomit Words: 1563

If Steve was a proper omega he wouldn't be on that stupid carriage, to be shipped from Loch Nora's Kingdom to Forest Park like an unwanted pack.

A proper omega would honor his family, stay home, cross-stitch animals and flowers, and learn poems and music. But Steve never was a proper omega and after he rejected his last suitor his father told him that he wasted his last opportunity to choose a proper alpha and that he was going to find one willing to take in a rebel omega like him.

Male omegas are a blessing and a curse: they are very rare, so Steve's father was able to ask for a high dowry from whoever wanted to marry him, but there weren't many alphas willing to tie their life to a male omega.

Steve has heard talking about Forest Park. A lot. And never in a good way.

They have a very bad reputation, but they are rich, so Steve has no doubt that his father got a really good dowry for selling him to those people. Well, not selling, betrothing him.

Thankfully, Robin is coming with him. Moving from one Kingdom to another and being completely alone would have been terrible, at least his beta best friend is trying to make him laugh by making silly comments and distract him from the long journey.

Even if the carriage is big and cozy, spending hours sitting on a carriage isn't that comfortable, and Steve's royal ass is in pain.

He doesn't even have enough space to stretch his long legs because in the carriage with them, there are the two guards King Munson himself sent to escort the future bride.

The guards are heavily armed, as they were expecting something to happen, and Steve isn't totally surprised. After all, Forest Hill has a terrible reputation. Their King was an outlaw before he rebelled and became king by killing everyone and conquering the castle, so Steve isn't really looking forward to moving in the same bed with a notorious assassin. But it’s not his choice anymore.

Savages, that's the kindest word Steve’s mom used to define those people, while what everyone thought but none dared to speak out loud was that King Munson was the new Warlord.

A warlord. Not a high-born, just a man with enough power and money to hire the strongest knight and mercenaries to help him keep his power. And Steve is going to get married to a Warlord’s son, or nephew, he's not really sure. Bloodlines are mixed in their Kingdom and they don't give a fuck about dynasties and the only blood that they care about is the one the blood spit by their enemies.

Steve has heard terrible stories about how cruel and violent those people are. One of Steve's servants has told him that Prince Munson killed his first wife with his own hands because she wasn't too sick to give him a child.

Being a male omega Steve knows he can bear pups, even if his heats are irregular and it's harder for him than for other omegas, but he never thought that the ability to bear a child or not could have been the cause of his premature death.

His scent gets sour and acrid while he thinks about the monster that he's supposed to wed. Maybe he should have been more pliant with his previous suitor. Lord Hagan wasn’t that bad after all. A little bit too presumptuous for Steve’s taste but he doubts he would have had him killed if he wasn’t able to bear a child.

"You ok? Do you want to take a break? Stretch your legs a bit?" Robin proposes, drawing soothing circles with her thumb on Steve's hand.

"Yeah, that would be nice." He confirms, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"No break and no stretching. We are still in hostile territory." One of the guards replies without even looking at Steve.

"Couldn't we stop just for a moment?" Robin insists, "We have been on this stupid carriage for hours!"

But an arrow flying through the window and ending his journey a few inches from her face makes her shut up.

"Stay down!" One guard yells, yanking Steve toward the carriage’s floor so abruptly that he falls badly on his own wrist, spraining it, but he doesn't have time to yelp because the carriage stops in the middle of the woods.

"Stay inside!" The first guard yells, jumping out of the carriage and drawing his sword. For a moment Steve catches a glimpse of a bloodied body staring blankly at him with a long arrow in the one eye socket.

"It's ok. It's ok." Robin tries to soothe him, releasing beta relaxing pheromones, but the other guard stops her, complaining that he can't afford to get relaxed by her pheromones, so Steve and Robin hug each other, trying to hide themselves from the attackers.

"He's here!" Someone yells, kicking the carriage door open, but the second guard is quick to pierce the intruder from side to side, what he wasn't expecting was someone else opening the door on the opposite side and grabbing Steve with no kindness, yanking him by his hair.

Robin screams, reaching out toward Steve, the guard turns his head just for a moment and another attacker takes his chance to stab him in the leg while Robin keeps screaming, but the clenching of the metal armor is so loud that Steve almost can't hear her.

A strong hit on the back of his head makes everything turn a warm black and he loses consciousness.

***

When he opens his eyes, Steve is surprised to find himself resting with his back against a big oak tree. In front of him the bluest lake he ever saw.

He puts down his hand, trying to get up, but immediately desists when a bright pain makes him whimper.

"I would stay put if I were you. Your wrist is sprained and you took a nasty hit to the head. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Steve startles, looking around himself, and finally finds a tall man with dark eyes and a nasty scar on his face staring at him with an amused smile.

His kidnapper!

The omega tries to crawl backward, but the unknown man is right, his wrist hurts too much and he still feels lightheaded.

"I think I'm going to puke…" he mutters, before turning on his side and emptying his stomach on the green grass.

Surprisingly, his kidnapper is quickly at his side, holding his hair out of his face, whispering encouraging words while he holds him to his chest with one arm.

When Steve's body gets limp into the kidnapper's arms, he takes a moment to breathe in his scent.

Embers and earth.

An alpha.

A proper omega should never be left alone with an alpha who's not family!

Steve tries to wriggle out of the stranger's hold, but he gently chuckles and pushes Steve's neck closer to the scent gland on his neck, "You're fine, omega. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm betrothed." He objects in a soft voice, while the alpha pheromones make him pliant and docile.

"That's what you're worried about? your honor?" The unknown alpha chuckles.

He has a nice laugh, Steve decided in his drugged state of mind, and he smells delicious. No other alpha ever smelled so good to him.

Steve must have said something because a very pleased rumble comes from the alpha's chest.

"You don't smell bad yourself, sweetheart."

Steve should be ashamed of himself, but the alpha's sturdy body is holding him tight and for the first time in his life he feels safe in an alpha's embrace.

"That's good. Come on, sip some water for me to wash away that bad taste."

The omega prince doesn't really know if the alpha is using his alpha's voice, or if he's already scentdrunk or whatever, but the only thing he wants to do is obey this alpha.

Steve spits a few times to clean his mouth from the horrible taste and then drinks some water, while the alpha keeps holding him tight.

The man’s wearing a beaten armor, stained with blood, and for a moment Steve wonders if he will kill him, but the way he keeps holding him makes him think that he’s affected by Steve’s scent as he is from his.

They aren't left alone for long. When Steve turns his head someone is riding toward them. Too many people.

Steve turns toward the alpha with eyes wide with worry, "You have to go. My future husband will kill you. He's a warlord! He won't be pleased you kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" The alpha asks, staring with confusion at the omega, feeling Steve's head with gentle fingers, "How badly did they hurt you, omega?" he asks worriedly, and this time is Steve's turn to frown in confusion.

“I might not look so but I’m a prince. And I was on my way to wed the Forest Park’s Warlord's son. If they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

Eddie bursts out in a loud laugh, shaking Steve who quietly complains of being jostled by the huge Alpha's body.

"Let me introduce myself," the alpha says, grabbing Steve's uninjured hand and kissing the palm of his hand in the most chivalrous way, "I'm Edward Munson, King Munson's nephew, your betrothal."

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starrynightmuse · 7 months ago

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Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond.

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!”

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history.

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue.

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius."

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class.

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects.

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget.

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —”

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity.

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.”

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles.

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you.

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.”

“Do you study mathematics?”

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?"

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?"

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last.

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat.

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch.

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.”

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.”

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library.

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.”

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf.

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.”

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly.

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement.

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond.

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.”

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls.

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said.

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond x y/n

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drabblesandimagines · 11 months ago

Text

Portrait

Joshua Rosfield x (painter) female reader Commissioned piece, 4,600 words (minor end game spoilers) Thank you so much for the commissioner for commissioning me in the first place and for letting me share here with you all! x

“No, no, no.” You’d swear the woman before you should be stomping her foot along to her words, her mannerisms being similar to those of a petulant child not getting their way.

The Empress of Sanbreque is usually a picture of decorum – carefully composed expression, hands clasped, never a hair out of place nor a wrinkle in her gown – but her façade appears to have cracked for she is scowling at you with clenched fists by her side. “Did you not understand my directions?”

You open your mouth, and quickly shut it again. Your mind is blank on an answer, probably looking foolish as you do so. You look at the portrait you’d unveiled moments ago for her private viewing, trying to see what she’s taken umbrage with, though you’re sure you followed her instructions to the letter.

“Your Grace, I-”

She raises her hand, stopping you before you can even begin a defense.

“It is quite clear that you did not.” Olivier, her three-year-old son and the subject of the portrait, sits at her feet, disturbingly well-behaved for his age, even for one of noble blood and upbringing. His eyes almost seemed lifeless at times – unnervingly so – with a cruel smile that was beyond his years. You’d tried to soften it out, is that what had upset her so?

“His Grace has been most pleased with my previous works.” You’d been brought in under the Empreror’s service first – endless commissions of he and the crown prince to celebrate every momentous occasion over the last few years.

“His Grace has, yes, but only of Prince Dion.” The way she pronounces Bahamut’s name is as if it leaves a foul taste on her tongue. “But these won’t do at all for my darling Olivier.” She pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation as she casts her eyes over your work once more. You swallow your pride. After all, it is far better to keep in the Empress’ good books than make an enemy of. “I will start anew-” “No – I’ve seen enough. You are dismissed, without pay. Come, Olivier.”

He grabs her hand obediently, but not without throwing you one last cruel smile.

Although you knew it would be difficult to remain in the city, you hadn’t expected a group of soldiers to appear at your door that very evening – armed with swords and spears, one holding a scroll of decree and beginning to read to you the moment after your name was confirmed.

“By decree of Empress Anabella Lesage, you are hereby commanded to leave Orinflamme at once.”

“Leave?” You’d planned to move – you knew her handmaidens would make quick work of spreading the gossip of your dismissal, whispering in certain noble ears to make sure the word spread far and wide – but to be banished altogether?

“Leave.” The captain of the guard confirmed, no sign of emotion on his face. “Refusal to comply will be seen as treason, of which the punishment is execution. You are to be gone by sunrise.”

You look around your small abode, trying to work out what you could possibly pack up and take in such a small timeframe – could you scrape enough gil together to rent a chocobo for the travel?

“Furthermore, all of your possessions are now the property of Empire. You may, however, retain the clothes upon your person.” The way in which he says it makes you think that he believes that is being far too generous.

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice calls and the crowd of guards splits. Prince Dion Lesage, regaled in the armour of the Dragoons and spear at his side, walks forward with purpose.

“My prince, there is no need to trouble yourself with such matters as these.”

“The Emperor himself requested my presence to make sure the Empress’ wishes are fulfilled. If you will excuse us, I assure you I have it handled from here and you may return to your other duties.” He casts a scathing eye over the seven men. “I doubt this task required this many of you either.”

“Yes, my prince.” The captain replies, tersely, with only a slight bow of his head, but none of the men make to move quite yet.

Dion’s hand tightens around the hilt of his spear and you are rendered speechless as he grabs you by the crook of your elbow and pulls you forward, out of your home – not even a chance to glance around and bid it goodbye - past the assembled guards and starts to lead you towards the city gates in long strides.

“I am sorry, my lady,” Dion says, softly, trying to avoid prying ears. You have always been fond of the crown prince – he had always treated you kindly in your interactions during portrait sitting sessions over the last few years. “I tried to speak to the Emperor to overturn the Empress’ command as soon as word reached me, but he would not be swayed.”

Your eyes widen at the idea. “Prince Dion, you shouldn’t have. That is far more kindness than I deserve.”

“Nonsense,” he chides. “I just wish I could do more. I saw the portrait before the Empress commanded it destroyed. I cannot think what has offended her so – it was the spitting image of Olivier.” He drops your elbow at last and retrieves a pouch off his belt, holding it out to you. “It isn’t much – shamefully, I am not adept of carrying gil around on my person – but hopefully it will be enough to see you through your travel.”

“No, your highness,” you shake your head. “I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“You must,” he presses the pouch firmly in your hand. “Do not make me order it so. It will be a long journey ahead - my concern is Northflame is too close to be out of the Empress’ influence.”

“I’ll head to Port Isodole – enough nobles reside there for me to gain employment once more, I’m sure of it.”

It was tricky upon your arrival to Port Isodole. You wanted to remain positive that you’d be commissioned on reputation alone by some of the Imperial nobles who resided there. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that the word had already wormed its way into eager ears, and those who sought the Empress Anabella’s favour wouldn’t dare to associate with someone she’d dismissed so blatantly and banished from the city itself.

You’d made do with work as a barmaid, part of your wages taking up with your food and board. Slowly, you’d built up your art supplies over the years and remained positive. Afterall, you could have had much worse luck in life than what you’d faced.

Finally, you decided to take a few of landscape pieces to market, hoping that surely enough time had passed - the Mothercrystal had been felled, Orinflamme abandoned in consequence, so why would the people of Port Isodole still hold such regard for the word of an Empress now stationed so far away?

“My dear, these are truly wonderful.” His voice is boomingly loud, surely drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. A tall, stocky, bearded man, dressed in finery looked in awe at your display and you so hoped pockets heavy with gil might be in store. “I feel as if I’m actually there, casting my eyes across the horizon once more.”

“Thank you, sir. Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” “Mayhaps - do you dabble in portraiture?” “I do… or I did. It’s been a little while.”

“And who is your patron?”

“My… patron?” You hesitate, wary now that this is where Anabella’s tarnishing of your name would lead to your undoing.

“With a talent such as this, you must have one.”

“Well, I-“

“Lord Byron”, a man interrupts, looking scornfully at you and keeping his distance. A beautiful woman is hanging off his arm and looking mortified by the whole thing. “I’d be wary of her. Empress Anabella dismissed her from her services.”

“Oh… Oh, my.” He sets his face in a solemn expression and your heart sinks. “Thank you, my good man.” Byron nods his head, giving the man a hearty pat on the back and begins to walk away with the couple. You feel as if you may cry. Maybe coming here was a mistake, but it was as far as you could’ve gone with the gil Dion had kindly given you. Is Anabella’s scorn going to follow you round forever?

You try and steel your resolve for other potential customers – who would want to purchase anything from a tearful merchant? - though many pass without giving your wares so much as a second glance. A cloaked man strides past, hand scuffing your table as he does. At first you think he meant to swipe something from it, but there is only an addition in the form of a letter.

You lean over the table and pick it up, breaking the wax seal.

My sincerest apologies for how we parted. If you would be so kind, please attend the manor this evening and dine with me. I wish to discuss your talent further and, if I may, commission you, the Empress Anabella be damned. – Lord Byron Rosfield.

Lord Byron had heard tale of your portraits, it had turned out, but he still wished to see your work first hand before he would tell you what he truly wanted. A workroom was set up for your disposal, a plethora of supplies that made your eyes water at the potential cost, but he had waved it off, declaring himself a lover of the arts. He’d marveled at your portrait of him and bid you come the next day to see the project in full he wished to discuss. As you entered the workroom, the large table had been covered in rolls of what you thought were parchment, but instead turned out to be precious segments of his dear brother’s portrait – the former Archduke of Rosaria, Elwin.

“I fear it is far beyond repair – I was lucky to salvage enough as I did - but I wondered if you would be up for the challenge of a recreation.”

“I can certainly try. There’s definitely enough of his face to base from. And I have your likeness, my lord, to assist.”

“Oh, Uncle,” Clive has tears in his eyes as he beholds the new addition to Byron’s parlor. “It is just as I remembered – he is just as I remembered. How did you even get hold of this? I thought everything destroyed after the siege.”

“The original was beyond saving, torn and burnt in places, yes. This, my dear boy, I had it commissioned, using parts of the original as a guide. You see, I have taken into my patronage a very talented artist – allow me to fetch her.”

Joshua’s breath had been stolen when he saw the painting of his father. He could swear if he stared long enough, the eyes would blink in return, that he would see his father’s chest rise with breath once more. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be proud of the man he’d grown to be, if he had done the Phoenix proud before the Eikons were stripped from the world.

A warm palm rests on his shoulder. “It is like he is the room once more, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, brother. Quite remarkable. I… I worried I had forgotten his face, after all this time, but this…”

Clive squeezes his shoulder then, no more words needed.

The silence is soon interrupted by the heavy footsteps of their uncle as the door is thrown open.

“Lord Bryon,” you protest, trying to step back but his hand on your back remains firm, “My apologies, but I really am in no state to-”

“Nonsense, my girl!” It is too late for you are pushed in front of two of the most handsome men you think you have seen.

You curtsy, clumsily, and Joshua can’t help but grin. He said you were to meet his nephews and, as he was a lord, they deserved the same respect, however Bryon hadn’t even given you chance to wash your hands, nor check your face in the mirror for errant paint streaks before he’d ushered you to the parlor.

“My dearest nephews, allow me to introduce the talented painter behind this masterpiece.”

Your cheeks feel hot, a little flustered in the way which Byron had pulled you in front of his nephews with no preparation. Joshua thanks the Founder that he was stood where he was, meaning that he gets to make your acquaintance first. Byron introduces you by name and turns to the blonde first, beaming.

“This is my youngest nephew – Joshua.” You offer out your hand but also curtsy again, forgetting yourself in the fluster. The Empress Anabella would not have stood for it. Before you can retreat your hand with an apology, Joshua takes it in his hand and drops to his knee, pressing a kiss across the back of it.

“It is a pleasure to meet the talented woman behind the masterpiece.”

“Oh,” your eyes light up and Joshua delights in it, already thinking of how he can achieve the same rush. “Thank you – that’s very kind. I admired Archduke Elwin very much – it was an honour to pay tribute to his memory.” Joshua slowly gets to his feet and relinquishes your hand.

“I… I served under your mother – the Empress Anabella - for a time.”

“Yes, before she was exiled for a portrait of Oliver Lesage not meeting her standards.”

“Ah. I pray you do not hold that against us.” Clive interrupts.

“Of course she doesn’t, my boy!” Byron booms once more. “This is my eldest nephew, Clive. Quite the rogue.”

“Uncle,” Clive gently admonishes. “I cannot see why our mother would be displeased with your work. This is… I feel like I can reach out and touch him. You’ve captured him remarkably well.”

You duck your head down in embarrassment, not used to receiving such amounts of praise. The Emperor would nod his approval, make no comment on style or substance, so to have the three sing your praises is a little overwhelming.

“Thank you.” You nod at Clive, a small smile across your lips and Joshua feels a twang in his chest at the sight of it – odd.

“And now this one is complete, I dare say we mu-“

The parlor door is swung open with a bang. Gav stands there, panting, hands on his knees to try and catch his breath. “Sorry, like, but we gotta scram. Imperial soldiers heading this way – caught wind of Cid the Outlaw sniffing about.”

Joshua did not see you for another year.

Regrettably, other matters had taken precedence. Ultima at first, a period of recovery for both him and Clive – Dion lost in the fight, and then focus had turned to helping nations adapt to a crystal-free life and the rebuilding of Grand Duchy of Rosaria. Parts of the castle were still under construction, but the capital itself had been rebuilt and ready to usher in the new Archduke.

“Your grace,” a servant called, diverting his attention from the latest pile of missives left at his desk, “Lord Byron Rosfield has arrived.”

“Uncle!” Joshua beamed, descending the stairs from the castle into the courtyard where Byron was emerging from a carriage. “We were not expecting you quite yet.”

“My dear boy,” he pulled his nephew into a firm hug. “I’m afraid I was far too keen to give you your gift to wait any longer.”

“A gift, Uncle? You shouldn’t have.”

His eyes widen as you emerge from the carriage, a hesitant smile on your face as you nod your head in greeting.

“Nonsense! The Archduke needs a portrait to mark this historical day.”

“Your grace.” You begin, cautiously. “I’m not sure you remember me, but-“

“My lady,” he begins, slyly taking your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles in greeting. “Of course I do. I assure you I could not forget one of such talent, nor of such beautiful visage.”

“You are too kind, your grace.”

“Joshua – I insist.”

“Joshua.” The word feels precious on your tongue. “Lord Byron is quite keen for me to paint a portrait of you and your brother, though I’m aware that this is probably quite a busy time for you to have long sittings.”

“Nonsense. You are welcome to my time whenever you wish, my lady.”

Joshua would never openly admit to it, but he had been somewhat jealous of Clive in their childhood. Not of the distain his mother had shown towards her first-born son, no, but of the freedom that maternal neglect had permitted him. Though Clive had taken the burden of being the First Shield upon his shoulders without a word of complaint, it was not as if Joshua had asked to be the Dominant of the Phoenix, nor that he had a choice in the matter at all. So many people were relying on him, championing him on, but when he was laid up in bed, downing elixirs and tonics made by the castle healers, he didn’t feel as strong as he needed to be.

Clive could go out wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted without the watchful eye of Anabella or the gaggle of her handmaidens. He could wear whatever he pleased too, practical things, even. Joshua instead had been draped in the finest fabrics, shipped in from Dhalkmekia that he would be scolded over for dirtying even slightly.

He thought he was old enough to no longer experience such a childish notion as jealousy – he could wear what he wanted, go where he wanted, no longer burdened by Ultima in his chest or the Phoenix in his being… But the foul feeling is getting harder to ignore when he is forced to sit there as you grip Clive’s bicep, moving his arm a fraction of an inch to the left, or the way in which you shyly adjust his shirt, claiming it’s important to have the outfit the exact same in order for the shading, but you never show him the same courtesy. He had hoped for more private sittings, to have your company to himself – perhaps sitting shoulder to shoulder with Clive’s muscular form was doing him no favours - but Byron had requested the two men together in a portrait, so the sessions had been arranged for when they were both free so you could at least get the outlines down, as well as some initial colouring.

You tug Clive’s shirt down a little to try and get it to lay flat – face burning with how your hand ghosted across his muscular chest - it had ridden a little and bunched when he sat. Clive stared straight ahead, hands clasped, ever the gentleman, and Joshua found himself shuffling in position, hoping his shirt might misbehave.

The Founder does not bless him so, as you return back behind the canvas.

Joshua arrives for his sitting in a good mood for two reasons – one, it is just to be him as Clive is away in Eastpool for a day or so, and two, he had a plan.

He did have a morning and early afternoon of meetings and reports to get through, but he had promised the late afternoon and as much as the evening for his sitting to take place, and that is certainly enough time to put said plan into action.

“Hello,” You smile brightly as he enters, taking his usual position on the chair. Joshua has his pose down to a fine art, whereas Clive needed more co-ercing to settle. “Are you sure you have time for this today? It might be a rather long one, I’m afraid I have a lot to get through as Lord Byron is keen for it to be ready for the day.”

“As I said, I am all yours for as long as you can stand me, my lady.”

You nod, stepping behind the canvas and pick up from where you left off. He doesn’t make his move for a good while, watching carefully as your eyes flick between the canvas and him and you begin to mix up paints once more, trial and error as usual as you worked diligently to find the right shade.

He makes his move when you turn back to the table to grab a clean brush, tugging the knot on the laces of his shirt clear and then shrugging his shoulder, revealing a little more of his chest than was previously on display.

You turn back round and your gaze flick between Joshua and the canvas once more… only for you to doubletake. He bites back a grin in celebration. It must be the candlelight playing tricks on your eyes because you could’ve sworn Joshua’s shirt laces were most definitely tied a moment ago. Mayhaps you should open a door – are the paint fumes going a little too much to your head after being sequestered in here all day long?

“Is everything all right?”

“Your, erm…” You put down the paint brush. “Your shirt laces have come undone.”

“Oh, have they?” He shrugs again, his top slipping down his shoulder a little more. “Oh, the shading, of course. My apologies.”

“That’s all right.” You wipe your hands clean on a rag, wondering how it had come quite so undone, before walking over to your subject. “May I?”

“By all means.”

You pull his shirt up his shoulder, lining it up with his ear - a good reference point - and pull the laces taught to tie off once more. You step back, cock your head this way and that, and then forward again to adjust it once more.

“There.”

“Wonderful.”

You return back to the canvas and begin to paint, brow furrowed in concentration, whilst Joshua feels absolutely giddy that his plan had been somewhat successful in achieving your touch.

So much so, that he cannot resist a tug at the laces once more the very next time he sees you turn your back – this time to take a deep drink of water - shrugging his shoulder once more, so it reveals more of his collarbone. He composes his features, he can’t give the game away by grinning like a child.

You turn back after a few moments and this time notice immediately, opening your mouth to say something but not quite knowing what to say. You’re sure you tied the knot firmly enough to stay put.

“What is it, my lady?” He tilts his head in intrigue.

“Your… Your shirt, it’s come undone. Again.”

“No,” he feigns disbelief, looking down at his chest in surprise. “I only stretched, I assure you.”

“Of course – mayhaps I didn’t tie it tight enough.” You wipe your hands clean again on the rag and stride over, a little less cautious this time as you tug his shirt back up, now standing between his spread legs – when did that happen? - lining it up with his ear once again and tighten the laces before securing it in a knot. You nod, more to yourself, as you check over your handiwork and go to step back.

“Thank you.” Joshua catches your hand as you do so, stilling your retreat. “It is very admirable how dedicated you are to your work.”

“I think it is how I get them to seem as realistic as you say they are – the shading is everything.” Your heart is pounding in your chest by how close you are, stood between his thighs. “I should…”

“Of course,” he releases your hand and by the time you’re back behind the canvas, his legs are crossed once more.

You work in silence for a while, getting fully into the flow now that Joshua’s shirt appears to be behaving. He enjoys watching you work – the way sometimes you stick your tongue out when you are concentrating particularly hard on a certain element, how your brow furrows, how tiny smatters of paint begin to decorate your cheeks and your hair as you dab the brush onto the canvas.

As the time passes, he cannot refuse to chase the thrill of your touch one more time this evening. Clive returns tomorrow and maybe this will be his last chance for a while – he couldn’t so boldly unlace his shirt with his brother sat by his side. He waits for another opportune moment for your back to be turned, and tugs at the knot.

It holds firm.

Your back is still turned, so he tugs again.

Nothing.

He raises his other hand to try and help undo the knot, before leaning up in his chair slightly to see if he can see what you’re doing, how much longer you may be as he continues fighting the knot. He thinks you’re having another drink of water, so he risks looking down, finally pulling the knot free and frantically shrugs his shoulders – a little more vigorously than before as he feels his shirt slip down on both.

He looks up in relief, only to see you have turned back whilst he was looking down, your head tilted as you stare at him in confusion.

Joshua feels his face burn as red as his old cowl at being caught in the act.

You walk over to him again, trying to hold in a smile that is rapidly creeping across your face and feeling as bold as brass. “Although I would like to paint you sans shirt, Joshua, I don’t think your uncle would be best pleased.”

“You would?” His voice lilts before he shakes his head, embarrassment and shame overcoming him. “No, I beg your forgiveness, my lady.” He mumbles, tugging his shirt back up on his shoulders. “I have let feelings of jealousy drive my actions and it is most unbecoming of a future Archduke.”

“Jealousy?”

“I… desired your touch, but I understand that Clive is…”

“He’s…?”

“A finer specimen.” He feels entirely foolish and somewhat pathetic for even saying it aloud – his brother’s body had come from years of enforced labor, for Founder’s sake! “Please, my lady, I beg you for-“

You press your lips against his in a chaste kiss, before pulling back with a shy smile, heart pounding, hoping you’ve read the signs and heard him correctly.

“I assure you, Clive is not the one I desire.”

He lifts a hand to caress your cheek for a moment before pulling you back in between his thighs, a steadying hand on your back as your lips meet again once more – a succession of frantic kisses, as if you are both trying to squeeze in as many as you can before the moment is over.

The two of you begin to slow your rhythm as you nestle yourself upon his thigh, feel his tongue swipe across your lips, seeking entrance. You part them slightly and he is quick to divulge with a moan that makes you tingle.

You have to retreat to catch your breath at one point – never in your wildest dreams had you pictured the session ending with you sat on the future Archduke’s lap, his shirt now hanging open around his shoulders again.

“Please do not say you have to get back to the portrait, darling one.” He murmurs into your throat before pressing kisses across your jaw.

“No. Your complexion is too flush for me to continue,” you tease.

“Good. For I have something else in mind for the evening.”

“Oh?”

“A private showing, if you will.” He takes your hand and places it flat against the exposed part of his chest – you can feel his heart pounding through your fingertips. ��

“Where would that be?”

“My bed chambers.”

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