#the iron steed
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they-call-me-youngermoney · 4 months ago
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heisenbilly deluxe
huge shoutout to @ohlookapan for the idea!
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donna as evanescence: [here] lady d and moreau coming soon!
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wickedzeevyln · 1 year ago
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Rider of the Rush Hour
Sprint! Like a gazelle on the crosswalk on a school day, the path behind you ablaze, fire as wild as rushing rivers. He revs the engine, he revs it now, devoid of conscience, his iron steed snorting, galloping with heavy clops as if to chase the day. Eyes peeled, keep them! Let your sight pry into the schemes of an uncaring morning, for the madman comes to drive through this road. Apologies,…
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sovereignxfae · 2 years ago
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@astra-stellaris said;
[ ― Going out with her friends was something that Astra usually didn't do. She hated it. She liked them, sure, but she wasn't that close to them and it was very, very annoying when all she wanted to do was experience life and do the things that she wanted. Like go to the beach, or go hiking, or -- play piano, but this was something that she had to agree to. There wasn't any getting out of it. Not at all.
She dressed up very nice -- a dress, red in color, made of satin and silk.
It was inevitable that she was left alone while they danced out with the people while she sat at the bar, watching over their drinks. She was a very good friend, she decided. They wouldn't know what to do without her.
When one of them returned she went out to dance. She wanted to at least try. And she was very beautiful. Someone would be interested enough to, at the very least. There were a few that she danced with and then turned away -- whether due to wandering hands or just the way they seemed to look at her-- well, she didn't exactly feel appreciated when they stared at her breasts the entire time, or tried to put their hands under it's hem.
And each time she turned red and disappeared until she was comfortable again. How -- how did her friends even like this? ― ]
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It was a typical scene for K'in. Buzzing warmth in their gut from the drink their nursing, settled in a corner by the bar. Watching the sea of dancing bodies with quiet glee.
Brought here by his friends, then banished back to the bar cause they're ‘stealing all the attention’. They'd defend themself and say it's not on purpose. However, they've never been one to lie. Especially when the rewards for honesty are flirty looks and giggles.
Though their take their punishment with grace. Loving the excuse to sit and admire their new infatuation. Pretty lady in beautiful red. Hair lush and flowly down her back, hiding her figure from wandering eyes.
Luckily, their imagination is very active.
K'in watches as she goes into the crowd and returns with an enticing flush . They are delighted by her expressions as she speaks with her friends. Pretty hands around a glass of something, they wonder if it's a strong drink or something sweet.
K'in sees her get up again—they mirror her. A night of staring should at least end with them knowing her name. Something to roll over their tongue like hard candy and stick into molars.
They set a brisk pace. Catching the tail end of her dress as they slip in. Right behind her, a tad breathless to be so close to her —she smells amazing. Goofy grin that almost everyone calls charming settles on their face.
“Oh, hi there!” Simple coincidence, they just happend to be behind her, respectable distance and their hands up by their shoulders.
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coralinnii · 1 month ago
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"Eyes are Windows to the Soul"
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↳ Admiring your Dark Brown eyes
feat: Idia ❋ Sebek ❋ Kalim ❋ Trey genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used for reader, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),
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Idia grew up sheltered in a sterile world, filled with LED lights and sleek metal walls. Shades of brown were not common in his daily routine, so he didn’t have a lot of opinions on it. 
In a world of neon blue and cold silver, your brown eyes ironically stood out in Idia’s world. 
Your eyes remind him of fluffy brown kittens, filled with warmth and mischief. You remind him of those adorable teddy bear prizes in claw machines that everyone covets. You were everything he dreams of holding, but often out of reach.
That is until the two of you grew closer, then he sees your eyes in the ice-cold colas he’s chugging during long grinding sessions with you. He feels a tingling sensation when he sees your eyes in the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet whenever you drag him out to “touch some grass” 
Your brown eyes remind him of everything fluffy and warm, of fuzzy feelings and snugness. 
Your eyes give off energy, but it’s not scary or overwhelming at all. Rather, it’s soft and enjoyable like a refreshing drink on a hot day.
You seem so out of place in his old world, but Idia couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.
”Uggh, that cat is just too cute, what a sensory overload! Huh, when did brown cats become my fav? I-I guess kinda recently?”
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Sebek holds himself with prestige and integrity, a well-kept man with honor to uphold. 
But his experience is filled with the great wilderness, with the natural and unbending beauty of the forest. He proudly recalls his childhood living close to the world of fae and nature. 
You were a human. Your upbringing was nothing like his own, a pair of opposites with nothing in common
But, when you look at him with your sweet brown eyes, Sebek sometimes feels lost in nostalgia. In your eyes, he sees the beautiful trees of his homeland, he sees his beloved worn-out books in his bookshelves passed down by his grandfather. 
Not only his childhood memories, Sebek feels the same feeling of familiarity in his current lifestyle. He’s reminded of the joy and excitement he feels when he trusts his whole self to the majestic brown horses in the campus wooden stables. 
Is it because just like his trusted steed, your warm brown eyes effortlessly shine with so much strength?
Lost in your eyes, he recalls feelings of comfort and home, a connection to what makes Sebek…himself. Though he may not admit it, the stubborn young man finds solace just by staring into your eyes.
"Do I ever feel homesick? Of course I do! I simply… haven’t been feeling all that distant from my homeland as of late”
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Kalim is not only surrounded by shades of brown, but also reds, yellows, greens, and everything else in the large spectrum of color. His world is bright and vibrant, never a dull moment for the boisterous heir. 
You fit right into his life, adding more happiness to his routine. Your existence gave off a sense of wholesome, sweet fun. You join him in his highs yet keep him grounded when he flies too close to the Sun
To anyone else, Kalim lacks nothing in terms of riches. He is financially blessed for generations to come, and Kalim is not ignorant enough to deny otherwise. 
But lately, whenever he watches you, he ponders on what the word “rich” truly meant to him. 
Some would call your brown eyes pretty but rather plain, but regardless Kalim would catch himself swimming in the hue of your irises. 
In your eyes, he sees the deep color of expensive cognac that many would gift his parents, he sees the color of flawless leather prized by countless merchants, and he sees the color of fertile soil that nurtures and feeds his country. 
If someone were to ask his opinion, Kalim would say that richness and pricelessness could be defined by your eyes. Kalim may have an abundance of gold and silver but there is no price that could compare to the look of pure love in your exquisite eyes.
"Have you ever seen a chocolate diamond before? They’re really pretty with a wonderful shine. I really like them, I’ll show you one someday!”
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While he isn’t against dabbling in certain subjects and interests, Trey has a pretty solid idea of his future, to become a patissier and to either inherit his family's bakery or start his own business. 
Trey doesn’t see himself as anyone extravagant nor does he really want to be. Sure, he may be in a prestigious school, and he may hold an enviable position as a vice-Housewarden, but the green-haired senior holds himself more modestly. 
You knew well of his humble dream, and he appreciated the way you would support him however you can, be it a taste tester for new recipes or assisting him in the kitchen before a busy unbirthday party. 
In this close proximity, Trey is allowed more chances to glance your way, especially your eyes. 
He sees the resemblance in your eyes the color of the chestnuts you collected with the mischievous freshmen, the first day he noticed how cute you were. He’s reminded of warm brownies and cookies he would bake in secret just for you, all to see those very eyes sparkle. He imagines a brick house in the same shade as your eyes, where he’ll live out his peaceful life with you.
In your warm brown eyes, he feels reassurance and security. Trey doesn’t need a lavish lifestyle or a grand plan. All he could wish for is a life where he could bake cakes and pay taxes with you.
“I’m not exactly the most romantic with words, but I do like your eyes. They remind me of…my oven. Ah, that sounded a bit…” 
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pa1nrema1ns · 1 month ago
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Two Intertwining Melodies || Sung Jin-woo (Part 2 of 3)
Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!Omega!reader
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A/N: Hello again everyone! Thank you so much for all of your interest and feedback on part one of this series. Due to the sheer enormity of the second chapter, I've decided to expand the siren au into a trilogy rather than a two-parter. My dear friend and beta reader @forbidden-sunlight has been an absolutely incredible source of support in the creation of this story. She also wrote the imagine that inspired this au. Links to the prologue and first chapter are posted below. Do be sure to read them first before continuing. And as always, heed the content warnings that are listed.
╰┈➤ Previous Chapters
🦪 Prologue by @forbidden-sunlight 🧜‍♂️ Part 1: Master and Apprentice
Content warnings: 18+MDNI, canon divergent, graphic descriptions of gore, death, and violence, afab!reader, reader is a makeup artist and hair stylist in the entertainment industry, a/b/o dynamics, heavy mentions of heat cycles, knotting, and breeding, threats of assault/non-con made by Kang Taeshik towards the reader (Jinchul intervenes and protects her), suggestive themes, some sexual descriptors, mythical creatures au, yandere!Jin-woo.
Word count - 9.6k
Summary - You find yourself returning to your childhood home of Jindo Island after receiving the offer of a lifetime. However, you can't shake the feeling that someone or something is watching you.
Dividers by @anitalenia and @firefly-graphics
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[Skill: "Monarch’s Domain" Has Been Activated.]
“Come on out!”
A cacophony of deafening blasts, wails, and the clash of steel rings across the crimson-tinged horizon of the one hundredth floor of the Demon’s Castle; a perfect accompaniment to the Armageddon currently taking place. Infantrymen by the hundreds emerge from the shadows to skewer Baran’s forces while Iron, Igris, and Tank slaughter the larger and more formidable combatants with wanton brutality. Issuing a non-verbal command, Jin-woo orders Tusk to incinerate his enemies with ‘Song of Inferno,’ and a calamitous ball of flames bursts forth, eradicating most of the battalion.  
“Amazing… on all the top floors I’ve been with him, I’ve seen nothing quite like this,” Esil whispered in awe. Although she was a demon princess who grew up in this wasteland and had seen many spectacular sights, the power of commanding shadow soldiers was most certainly not one of them.
In contrast to his companion, Jin-woo calmly observes the cataclysmic destruction with a piercing gaze. Despite gaining the upper hand against his troops, Baran remained steadfast in his refusal to engage directly in the ensuing fight. This simply would not do. Jin-woo needed to secure his victory in this decisive battle, and fast.
Jinwoo’s opponent possessed the last ingredient required to craft the Holy Water of Life: The Purified Blood of the Demon Monarch. A fortnight of endless fighting had culminated to this moment, and he was on the precipice of triumph. But the Demon King was unlike any adversary he had ever faced before. Jin-woo could gauge just from the sheer murderous energy emanating from him that Baran was in a league of his own. And his power spoke for itself: endless demon hordes at his beck and call, a wyvern as a mount, and an insurmountable supply of mana that showed no signs of running out. Jin-woo would need to approach his foe strategically lest he lose this war of attrition.
At long last, as if he could sense the siren’s impatience, the Demon King makes his move. He bids his steed to fly at a lower altitude. Once within range, Baran unhinges his jaw and unleashes a massive beam of white lightning. Within seconds, thunder runs rampant throughout the land, devastating everything in its path. However, Jin-woo and his shadow army stand strong regardless of the imminent danger.  The siren even has the audacity to smirk. 
So Baran thought he could defeat him with electricity? Excellent. He really could not have asked for a better opponent. As luck would have it, Jin-woo’s oceanic nature gave him the edge in this situation. The surface of water, acting as a conductor of electricity, causes high voltages and amps to spread rapidly. With this in mind, Jin-woo launches a counterattack.
“Wreak havoc on all who dare to stand in my way, Charybdis!”
Powerful torrents of black seawater manifest from the shadows just before Baran’s attack could hit him. The rushing stream then runs across the land and coalesces into a violent maelstrom in the sky. The raging vortex absorbs most of the lightning in its maw before redirecting its flow towards the Demon King. Baran wills his steed to evade by canting to the left, but Tusk incapacitates him by striking the wyvern’s wing with a blast of fire magic. The Demon King leaps from his mount’s back before it’s forced into the whirlpool and electrocuted. He lands gracefully on his feet and shoots a sinister grin at Jin-woo.
“It was worth it to let Tusk have the sphere,” the siren remarks nonchalantly, as if it was just any other day and not a fight to the death. “I’m glad you’re finally on the ground. Constantly looking up was making me tired.”
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With the Demon King grounded, Jin-woo no longer required the aquatic effects of Charybdis. The dark water above evaporates as it returns to the abyssal depths of the ocean, its job now complete. With this hindrance finally gone, Baran doesn’t hesitate to release another beam of white thunder, this one even greater than the last. Tusk attempts to lessen the impact with ‘Song of Protection’, but the force of taking a direct hit ends up obliterating him. Undeterred by his comrade’s demise, Iron bellows at Baran and slashes at his body with his axe. But he proves to be no match for the speed of the Demon King, who ruthlessly splits his head in half. Igris then valiantly joins the fray and swings his great sword at the demon. However, this too is a fruitless endeavor, as Baran swiftly catches his blade and wipes him out with a flick of his wrist.
Just as Igris’s body fades, Jin-woo emerges from the ashes in his true sirenic form, Knight Killer and Baruka’s dagger at the ready. “Scylla!” He snarls a second incantation that brings forth another wave of black water, this time in the shape of a six-headed beast. The aqueous leviathan slams into Baran, crushing his body under its weight and submerging the entire floor of the dungeon in water. The Demon King swiftly breaks free from the tides and springs onto the roof of one of the sole remaining towers. Soaking wet and surrounded by large bodies of water, Baran ends up on the defensive; if he were to use his lightning, he risked electrocuting himself. Jin-woo was also in an environment that favored him, and the Demon King could not pinpoint his whereabouts while he was swimming underwater.
Even with this advantage, the gap in power was still significant between the two. Knowing this, Jin-woo doesn’t allow him a moment of reprieve. He uses his tail to project his body from the currents and launches at the Demon King with his daggers. The demon responds in kind, countering his onslaught with a flurry of strikes from his own weapons. Jin-woo holds his own against the extraordinary speed of Baran’s slashes. But he was low on mana, and fatigue was rapidly building up. While oceanic magic was incredibly effective, it incurred a high cost of mana. This, coupled with an extended exposure to a dry, fiery atmosphere, was having a seriously detrimental effect on his endurance. It was time to end the battle after dragging it out for so long. Jin-woo just needed an opportunity to catch the demon off guard– 
Klang!
A loud noise reverberates in the dungeon as a lance ricochets off Baran’s head. The demon redirects his focus to the sheepish face of Esil. Huh? I thought I told her to head for higher ground. When did she…? Jin-woo ponders briefly before banishing the thought. He requested a distraction, and someone kindly provided him with one. He wasn’t about to squander his only chance.
Using Baran’s hesitation to his advantage, Jin-woo discards his short swords and sinks his fangs into the Demon King’s neck, crushing down on his windpipe. As Baran struggles to throw him off, Jin-woo unsheathes his claws and gouges out chunks of flesh. The demon howls in agony, his pained cries music to the siren’s ears. “How stupid of me,” Jin-woo sneers, his voice deepening in pitch as his actions became more monstrous, “I was fighting you like a man this entire time, when this is who I really am. Heh, I guess being disguised as a human for so long made me forget.”
Summoning all his strength, Jin-woo uses his muscular arms to tear Baran’s torso from his body. The vicious mauling completely eviscerates the demon, with only his entrails being left over in its wake. His victory now secured, Jin-woo exhaustedly slumps to the ground and reverts to his human appearance. The throes of battle destroyed most of his clothes, much to his chagrin. The only apparel that remained intact were his tattered jeans, and those only just spared his modesty. He scoffed in annoyance; he’d need to purchase a new wardrobe soon to make himself more presentable for you …
“Jin-woo, sir!” Esil dashes towards him with a worried look on her cute face. The siren smirks, satisfied despite the many setbacks he faced during this confrontation.
“Esil, tell your father the Radis clan is now the number one family.”
“Jin-woo sir,” the demon girl responds exasperatedly, “Our family name is Radir.”
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6:00 AM, on the outskirts of Jindo Island…
Jin-woo deeply inhales the crisp morning air as he soars through the endless skies. Much had transpired in the short time between the conclusion of his showdown with Baran and now. He had gained the Purified Blood of the Demon Monarch, along with the World Tree Fragment, and Spring Water from Echo Forest. With these three components, he was at last able to craft the Holy Water of Life. Once finished, he cradled the precious vial in his palm, as if trying to ascertain proof of its existence. Afterwards, Jin-woo deposited it into his magical inventory for safekeeping.
Of course, the elixir was just one of the many spoils of war he had claimed. Kaisel, the wyvern who now served as his mount, was his for the taking after Baran’s death. The gift of flight had expedited the journey home, much to his joy. A rune stone had also provided him with the skill, ‘Shadow Exchange,' a means of trading places with any of his soldiers scattered throughout land and sea. Thanks to this new ability, he was able to leave that hellish landscape. After being gone for what felt like eons, Jin-woo was desperate to return. To his family. To Ashborn. To you.
He’s relieved when the familiar cityscape of Jindo-gun comes into view. He estimates it would take roughly 15 more minutes for them to arrive over the briny waters. However, before they can make it past the coastline, the spellbinding fragrance of bergamot and vanilla overwhelms Jin-woo’s senses. This could mean only one thing: you were nearby. The headiness of your musk had also gotten more potent in his absence, signifying your fertility.
“Fuck!” Jin-woo’s hisses as desire courses hot and heavy through his veins. He tries to resist the temptation of your pheromones, but you smelt so damn good; so ready and willing for him and his knot –
Jin-woo grunts as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood. The pain causes him to regain some mental clarity, and he wills himself to calm down. But it’s of no use. His thoughts were currently being clouded by lust and the instinctual drive to breed. Those two weeks he endured in the Demon’s Castle had significantly intensified his longing for you, and the pent-up sexual frustration was coming to a head. Jin-woo really had to nip this in the bud. His stamina was at its limit, and he was in no condition to be seen by you. The siren also desperately needed to go home and check in on his mother and Jin-ah. He was the only alpha and protector of their family after the disappearance of his father. He couldn’t afford to waste another—
The wind carries your scent as it blows past Jin-woo’s face a second time. It was as if you were beckoning him like some sort of enchantress. Unable to ignore your maddening aroma, Jin-woo at last gives in. He knew the decision he was about to make was foolish, reckless even. But he must heed the call of his omega.
He silently apologizes to his mother and Jin-ah and asks them to wait just a little longer. “I’ll only introduce myself… maybe I can even get her name,” he tries to reason with himself while slowly succumbing to delirium. His mind made up, Jin-woo commands Kaisel to deliver him to the area where your scent is the strongest. The wyvern then returns to the void shortly thereafter, leaving the worn out siren to his own devices.
Grainy sand molds against his bare feet as stumbles across the beach in search of you. “Shit. If this keeps up, I might not make it back to Mom and Jin-ah.” Jin-woo mumbles softly. He really was in poor form. Maybe it had been a mistake to depart immediately for Jindo island without taking a break in between. Damn. 
As black spots start to obscure his vision, Jin-woo’s gaze finally lands on you. His lips quirk into a tired smile. Even through blurry eyes, you looked absolutely stunning while standing in the sunlight. Like an earthly goddess.
With his consciousness ebbing further and further away, the siren musters up the last of his energy to stagger towards you. He makes it only two steps before his body gives out and he collapses. Rather than hitting the hard ground, a soft and warm embrace met Jin-woo. He blearily cracks open an eye, curious about what broke his fall. It was at that moment your lovely, albeit worried face greeted him. Pretty, he thinks, exhaustion finally taking its toll on him. The last thing Jin-woo remembers before the darkness overtakes him is the soothing smell of bergamot and vanilla.
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Two weeks ago, someone or something had been watching you. It was during the first day of filming the mystery-thriller, ‘Murder on the Cerulean Sea’, a passion project by renowned producer, Go Gun-hee. The man had an incredible work ethic, with a career spanning over 40 years and numerous accolades to his name. He had recently come out of retirement, and the entertainment industry was buzzing with anticipation. Known as a cinematic miracle maker, every motion picture Go Gun-hee produced set box office records. Suffice to say, you had been over the moon after finding out you were amongst the few who made the cut for makeup artists hired to work on set. Although the instant you found out where the filming location was to take place, you immediately felt your enthusiasm dampen. Jindo-gun. At one point, this had been your home. Now, it was but a distant memory.
You had spent most of your childhood on the island of Jindo. Its scenic beaches, sprawling forests, and crystalline waters made it ideal for shooting a film based on a luxury yacht charter. There was one major caveat however: the sirens. Several pods of these unpredictable creatures resided off the coast of Jindo, and the alphas were infamous for their aggression, especially during the height of the mating season.
Growing up, your parents warned you time and time again not to walk alone along the shores at night. "Don’t ever go to the beach by yourself after dark," your mother had signed this to you almost every day. A constant reminder to stay safe and vigilant of your surroundings. Townsfolk also gossiped and shared sordid stories about the lost souls who fell victim to the sirens. But this wasn’t just word of mouth, a child’s fairytale, or mere superstition. These deadly apex predators were very much real, and a troublingly high number of homicides were committed by them each year. Unfortunately, this did little to dissuade foolhardy tourists and arrogant fishermen from pouring into the island during the hotter months of spring and summer.
Eager to escape the foreboding atmosphere, you had applied to and been accepted into a 2-year cosmetology program in Busan shortly after finishing high school. Makeup had always been a strong interest of yours and with the support of both your parents you flourished in your craft.
Although you had been nervous about the transition from quaint suburbia to the big city life, you found yourself quickly growing accustomed to the fast-paced environment. Your school had also been very accommodating, providing you with a sign language interpreter and captioning services for your classes. A kindhearted young woman by the name of Lee Joohee had been assigned as your interpreter during your time in Busan. You became fast friends and remained close even after graduation.
After receiving your license, you relocated to a small apartment in Seoul and began working as a hair and makeup artist in stage productions, commercials, and musicals. You greatly enjoyed the creativity and networking opportunities of your profession, often getting to bump shoulders with many well-known actors and actresses. Within a few years, your portfolio grew considerably. This enabled you to broaden your horizons by breaking into the film industry. ‘Murder on the Cerulean Sea,’ would be your first foray into this competitive market and you wanted to prove yourself as a newcomer to the scene. So, despite your reservations, you begrudgingly agreed to board the private jet headed for Jindo island.
If you recall correctly, the mating season for the sirens wouldn’t take place for another four months, so everything should proceed without a hitch… right?  
You began to feel a little more at ease when you found out Cha Hae-In and Yoo Jinho were cast in major roles in the movie. You had first met them when they were both burgeoning stage actors. Cha was surprisingly camera shy and preferred to keep a more subdued profile whereas Jinho was outgoing and incredibly humble despite his privileged background. The bubbly brunet was the youngest son of the chairman of Yoojin Construction Company, a major industrial conglomerate in South Korea.
Although you came from different walks of life, the three of you had hit it off right away, finding common ground in your passions for campy horror films. You even taught them a few signs, and this inspired Jinho to devote himself fully to learning sign language. Cha also practiced her signs with you whenever she had the chance, but her busy schedule often made it difficult for her to find spare time. Nevertheless, you were deeply touched by the efforts made by both of your friends.
While taking a break on set, you felt a pair of eyes boring into you as you were relaxing with Cha and Jinho. At first, you chalked it up to paranoia. It had been years since you visited the island, and you’d nearly forgotten how oppressive the ocean seemed at night. But it was the middle of May. The mating season for the sirens would not take place until September at the earliest. Regardless, the sensation of being watched still lingered even after the mysterious presence had left.
There was also the enthralling scent of lavender and sandalwood thickly permeating the air. It had a distinctly masculine undertone to it that had piqued your interest. It was far too strong to be from a couple spritzes of cologne or perfume, yet more subtle than the pungent smell emanating from many of the alphas who composed the cast and crew onboard the yacht. Their musk was overbearing at best, but this fragrance was entirely different. It was sweet. Delicate. Intoxicating…
You had to find the source of it. Making up an excuse about wanting to get more fresh air, you stay behind on the deck of the ship while your friends return to their accommodations to retire for the evening. As you lean over the railing to scope out the scent, an intense wave of heat suddenly ignites in your lower belly causing you to gasp and buckle at the knees. It briefly lingers in your abdomen before shooting directly to your core. You bite back a moan as your eyes flutter shut from the pleasure spreading throughout your body. Slowly but surely, you were entering into a primal state; one of pure unbridled arousal. You should be concerned. No, you should be horrified. You were so vulnerable, so out of sorts. And yet…
You had never felt so exhilarated. It was as if ecstasy became you. You were ascending higher and higher to parts unknown, all semblance of rationality long since abandoned. The coil in your gut was wound so tight, it was at its breaking point. If this continued, you would inevitably plummet over the edge and succumb to your baser instincts –  
The metallic odor of copper violently infiltrates the air, abruptly bringing you back to your senses. Your eyes bolt open, and you release a shaky breath. You’re surprised to find yourself on your knees. They must’ve given out on you at some point. However, your shock shifts to horror when you catch sight of an unruly mop of purple hair from the corner of your eye.
It could only belong to one individual: Kang Taeshik.
Shit. You’d been acquainted with the man just yesterday, but he terrified you. Taeshik was an up-and-coming actor on the scene; one who excelled in any role he played. In spite of this, the first impression he left on you was enough to make you keep your distance. Although Taeshik’s demeanor was docile, there was a cold and calculating look in his eyes that made you shudder. It reminded you of a predator eyeing its prey. The most off-putting aspect of the man, however, was his stomach-churning scent. He positively reeked of blood.
You could feel panic setting in as he began to saunter towards you, a lascivious smirk spread across his face like a dark promise. You’re unable to rise to your feet, still weakened and lightheaded from the erotic sensations affecting you earlier. Worse yet, you feel a lump in your throat, making it difficult to shout or scream for help should the need arise. You were essentially cornered, defenseless, and alone with a menacing alpha. And if the pungency of his musk was anything to go by, he was on the verge of a rut. You sink back into yourself in fear and begin to tremble uncontrollably.
You can see Taeshik’s mouth moving as he closes in on you. You’d become adept at lip reading over the years, although it was difficult to decipher everything he was saying in the darkness. The only words that you can make out are "little omega" and "whore." Your blood curdles. Someone, anyone, please help me! You silently plead, knowing it was futile. For a moment, you foolishly imagine the owner of that enticing scent coming to your rescue.
Thankfully, just before Taeshik can grab you, a large hand envelops his wrist in a vice grip.
The purple haired nightmare cants his gaze to the side and narrows his eyes. He’s greeted by the furious expression of none other than the film’s director, Woo Jinchul. Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. Thank God, you think.
Taeshik rips his arm away and leaps back, creating some distance between himself and the taller man. Jinchul quickly assumes a protective stance in front of you. His broad back prevented you from seeing your would-be assailant, something you were extremely grateful for. For a few tense moments, you can only sit and stare at Jinchul’s imposing figure as he confronts the other man.
Despite how scared you are, you wish you could partake in the conversation if only to defend yourself. Taeshik may try to manipulate the situation by implicating you as an instigator or seductress, something many male actors in the industry unfortunately got away with due to their connections or wealth. It was despicable and made you seethe with anger at the salacious lies and rumors spread by the press and social media.
After several painstaking minutes, Taeshik departs with nary but a shrug of indifference. Apparently Jinchul’s status and power as director did nothing to intimidate him. He waits until Taeshik’s figure disappears before turning to face you. There’s an uncharacteristic warmth in his usually hard gaze, and you’re able to catch a whiff of his natural scent: cardamom and cedarwood, a calming combination.
Jinchul gently offers his hand and effortlessly hoists you to your feet. Your legs are still somewhat stiff but functional now. He permits you to steady yourself by grasping onto his shoulders and it doesn’t escape you how oddly intimate these actions are. As if to further prove this, Jinchul, in a strange display of affection, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath hitches.
A beat passes before the realization of what he just did hits him. Jinchul’s eyes widen, and he quickly snatches his hand back as if he was scalded. And was it your imagination, or were his ears turning pink? He awkwardly clears his throat before opening his mouth. ‘Are you alright? Did Taeshik harm you in any way?’ You read his lips closely, appreciating the pauses and slow enunciation of his words. Jinchul was aware that you could lip read rather efficiently, and this made it easier to communicate with him since he would not have to always rely on an interpreter.
You shake your head and see him breathing a sigh of relief. ‘He won’t ever be allowed near you again; I will make sure of it.’ Jinchul is back to his usual no-nonsense demeanor it seems. But what had caused him to act so… tender towards you? And Taeshik? The man had always been creepy and taciturn, but he never went out of his way to torment you. If Jinchul hadn’t arrived at just the right time, you could have been assaulted. You feel bile rising to your throat at the thought. Why was this happening? You were always careful and made sure to take your heat suppressants every day. None of the alphas you worked with had ever tried to hurt you before, so why? Unless you were going into heat, but that shouldn’t be possible…
You suddenly break into a sob, overcome with emotion. Your distress causes Jinchul to spring into action. He promptly removes his blazer and drapes it over your shoulders to ward off the chill of the night. Jinchul then produces an embellished handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you. He hesitates before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and his lips move again. ‘I’m here for you,’ he mouths. You wipe away the tears with the handkerchief and stifle your cries into its soft fabric. All the while, Jinchul remains by your side and grants you as much time as you need to collect yourself. When the tears finally run their course, you lower the ruined towelette from your face and chance a timid glance at him.
Jinchul regards you with a pensive expression on his sharp features. He withdraws his hand from your shoulder and reaches back into his pocket to pull out his phone. He then begins typing away and once finished with his message, he hands the device over to you, displaying the contents of his notebook app.
"As director of this film, I want you to know that I will always prioritize the wellbeing of our cast and crew. With that being said, the actions I witnessed Kang Taeshik commit tonight were morally reprehensible. I won’t disclose the full details of the discussion I had with him, as I do not wish to cause you any further emotional distress. I will say that I can personally attest to the fact that Kang Taeshik sought to menace and harm you while you were in a vulnerable state of heat."
You feel your heart sink into the pit of your stomach as you skim over the last sentence. So Jinchul knew you had unexpectedly gone into heat? Of course he would; he was an alpha. How could you have been so stupid? The director was most certainly going to see you as a liability now… you may even end up losing your job.
You reluctantly force yourself to continue reading. If this to be the conclusion of your tenure, then at least you would see it through to the bitter end.
"Please do not blame yourself for what has happened. Your disposition as an omega has no bearing on your contract or employment, nor does it offer an excuse for an alpha, or anyone for that matter, to harass you. It is with impartial and sound judgment that I have made the executive decision to terminate Kang Taeshik and remove him from production effective immediately. This will cause some inevitable delays, but an impromptu casting call can be arranged in the meantime. I’m willing to run over schedule if it guarantees everyone’s safety."
You exhale and feel all the tension dissipate from your body. So, you weren’t the one being let go, Taeshik was. You hadn’t known much about Woo Jinchul beforehand, but you were thankful that he was a man of good character. This was becoming exceedingly rare in an industry composed of unscrupulous and morally bankrupt members of the upper echelons.
You type back a response before handing him his phone.
"I am so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you. I really don’t understand what happened. I’ve been taking suppressants for years, and an alpha has never tried to threaten me before. Thank you for stepping in to protect me. I really don’t know what he was planning to do."
You couldn’t help but apologize even though Jinchul had vindicated you. What leaves you reeling, however, is the reply he gives you when the mobile device is back in your hands.
"I should be the one to apologize, not you. My behavior towards you earlier was incredibly uncouth, and for that, I am deeply sorry. As director, I should be conducting myself in a manner that is more befitting. Instead, I allowed my instincts as an alpha to impair my judgement. I promise this shall not happen again."
Uncouth behavior? Did he mean when he was brushing your hair from your face? How could he be apologetic about something so innocuous?  The implications don’t fully register until you replay that last sentence: My instincts as an alpha. Instincts…alpha…!?!
He was reacting to your pheromones.
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That evening, Jinchul insisted on having you treated at the on-site infirmary. Alas, with few medical staff and even less equipment it was difficult to determine what was causing your symptoms. Was it possible your medication was no longer working? Omega suppressants were highly effective, but that didn’t mean they were infallible. A missed dose or interaction with another drug could negate the effects. But you weren’t taking any other medications, and you never missed a dose.
Needing a second opinion, you were transported to the emergency room at a nearby hospital for further evaluation. Jinchul had opted to let Cha and Jinho drive you there after explaining your circumstances to them (minus the issue with Kang Taeshik; he was keeping it under wraps for now). Unlike him, they were both betas which made them immune to your pheromones.
You ended up being kept overnight for observation. After running a series of tests, including labs to assess your hormones and an ultrasound, you were found to be undergoing a pseudo estrus or ‘false heat’ as it’s more commonly referred to.
Unlike a regular heat, a false heat occurs only when a highly compatible alpha is within close vicinity of an omega. This in turn triggers a massive release of pheromones leading to an increase in libido, fever-like symptoms, cramping, and fatigue. Whoever this alpha was, their presence was so virile that your heat suppressants were fully canceled out by them.
You were questioned extensively about your experience by the healthcare team. "Do you have any partners? Are you sexually active? Is there anyone you work with who is an alpha? When did you first start experiencing the signs of your heat?" The list was never-ending. With the help of an interpreter, you answered everything to the best of your ability. And by the end of it all, you were still at a loss.
No one on that yacht had been emitting that scent, you were sure of it. It had to have been someone wholly unrelated. Perhaps a fisherman or a swimmer? But it was late and everyone who was local to the island knew better than to risk the waters at night. Everyone except you and the entourage on board the yacht, that is.
Frustrated, you eventually gave up on trying to figure out the identity of your potential mate. Your physician, a compassionate fellow omega by the name of Min Byung-Gu, strongly recommended an entire week of bed rest for you. This was to serve as a means of letting the heat cycle run its course. You were also provided with prescription medications to alleviate your symptoms.
Resting was crucial. Any physical stress or strain could worsen your condition, and omegas were particularly susceptible to injury or illness while at their sexual peak. In addition to this, your doctor recommended ceasing all contact with alphas, effectively barring you from returning to work. You were crestfallen at this, but you acquiesced knowing it was for the sake of your recovery.
To avoid any mishaps, Jinchul arranged for you to stay in a penthouse for the time being. The lavish suite was situated on the very top floor of a deluxe condominium, affording you all the personal comforts and privacy you would need. You couldn’t help but snort when you opened the door to your new living quarters. It was like you were a goddamn princess trapped in a tower.
As if that wasn’t enough, your boss had also hired two very intimidating bodyguards. Both were betas who had been tasked with protecting you during your heat. The first to be introduced was a hulking beast of a man called Thomas Andre. He was huge, with a herculean frame that looked to be made of steel rather than flesh and blood. A wild mane of blonde hair and intricate patterns of black ink also adorned his chest and arms, making him even more imposing.
The disarming smile he gives you is anything but, however. He’s also surprisingly gentle with you when he shakes your hand.
Your other bodyguard had a physicality that was far less egregious, but his razor-edged gaze, unnervingly calm composure, and the bulging muscles of his arms revealed a powerful aura that was not to be underestimated. This man had gone by the name of Liu Zhigang, a master swordsman of the highest caliber and one of the strongest individuals in China.
He too, had been unexpectedly friendly, even going so far as to ruffle your hair and calling you a “good girl,” in his native language. Your interpreter had been particularly scandalized while signing this to you after you were insistent on finding out what he said. You, on the other hand, thought it was rather cute, especially when juxtaposed with his tough guy image. There had also been no ill intent or malice in his words; he was being genuinely amiable to you, just as Thomas Andre had been.
Perhaps you could make do with this situation. But you could only imagine how hefty of a price tag these two highly skilled warriors could warrant. Jinchul was sparing absolutely no expense on you. He must have felt terribly guilty about your traumatic experience that night…
You make a vow with yourself not to take his generosity for granted.
And so, the next week passes by rather uneventfully. You ended up becoming stir crazy right from the beginning. You had been so accustomed to the fast-paced lifestyle of a makeup artist and hair stylist that the very concept of wasting the day away seemed foreign. Gone were the 12–14-hour shifts that had once encompassed your daily routine. It was maddening, this sudden lack of purpose.
Sleeping, reading, eating, and binge-watching dramas with closed captioning had been your main escape from the dullness of being confined to bed all day. No one, not even your parents, Jinho, or Cha had been permitted to visit you while on bedrest. Jinchul and Min Byung-Gu had advised you to limit all external stimulation while you were in heat. You understood the importance of this, but it did nothing to prepare you for the overwhelming loneliness that awaited you.
Sure, your bodyguards had been cordial to you, but they were preoccupied with keeping watch over the premises and warding off any intruders. Neither one had time to engage with you beyond a simple greeting or farewell. Even your interpreter kept her presence scarce, coming only twice per day to check in with you and to relay messages from your friends, family, and the director.
It was as if you were a bird in a gilded cage. Locked away, out of sight, and out of mind. You hated every second of it. You wanted to curse the cruel hand you were dealt, to resent the alpha who had caused you all this misery in the first place. But…
You couldn’t bring yourself to do it no matter how unbearable the isolation became.
Once those seven agonizingly slow days were over and done, you were given medical clearance to resume your job. You never thought you would be so happy to work again. Of course, you still had some restrictions in place. Jinchul wanted you to take it easy, so he requested that you work no more than 4-6 hours per day. At this point, you were willing to do anything if it kept you out of that forlorn penthouse.
In addition to this, you were prescribed a significantly higher dosage of oral heat suppressants. It was to be used as a prophylactic to ensure you would not enter a second heat. The side-effects had been merciful, with nothing more than the occasional bout of nausea and a loss of appetite to show for.
Jinho and Cha were ecstatic to see you again, although your other colleagues were far less enthusiastic. The attentiveness and apparent favoritism towards you by the director did not go unnoticed. You were predictably met with the cold shoulder by many of your peers upon your return. It didn’t help that Jinchul had kept the confrontation between him and Taeshik confidential. Only executive producer Go and your bodyguards were made aware. This was done to protect you and to prevent the besmirching of your character by the media. The rest of the cast and crew had simply been told that Taeshik had departed from the film due to ‘irreconcilable and creative differences.’ The purple haired man’s PR team, for their part, also appeared to be going with this story.
Frankly, you could care less about what your coworkers thought of you. You were just glad that you never had to be around a horrible psychopath like Taeshik ever again. Cha and Jinho, on the other hand, had taken it upon themselves to act as your newly appointed bodyguards in Thomas’s and Zhigang’s stead. Any nasty gossip or snide remarks were met with a frosty glare from the blonde woman and threats of litigation from the heir apparent of Yoojin Construction.
You couldn’t have asked for better friends or a more considerate boss, but you were starting to find the constant protection and coddling from them to be too much. You were a woman with her own autonomy after all. And yet you were being treated like a piece of glass, as if you would shatter with the slightest gust of wind. It was suffocating and your newly toxic work environment certainly wasn’t making matters any better.
To keep yourself grounded (and from going insane) you had taken to embarking on early morning walks along the beach. The peace and tranquility were a welcome solace from the tumultuous reality of your situation. You could spend hours getting lost in the beauty of the dawning sun.
You should have known this temporary serenity was not to last.
That Sunday had started out much like any other morning. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, changed into a pair of leggings with a matching sports bra, and slid on some comfortable running shoes. It was a little before dawn, and you were hoping to catch the breathtaking sight of the sunrise along the sandy marshes of the island. You weren’t scheduled to work, so you had all the time in the world to explore and enjoy nature. You planned to make the most of it.
You start off by walking to a well-known bakery to purchase some freshly made kkwabaegi. The crispiness of the fried dough complements your coffee perfectly. After eating your sweet treat, you continue your journey, heading southbound for a local beach. The area was usually a tourist trap in the summer, but it was much less populated at this time of day.
The moment your foot connects with the sand, you are instantly hit by the familiar smell of lavender and sandalwood. You begin to panic.
 Shit! It was that alpha from a few weeks ago!
You know the right thing to do, the reasonable thing to do, would be to turn back and run. You were all alone in a secluded area with someone who was potentially dangerous. The last time you were near them, you had been rendered completely helpless just from their pheromones alone. If you got too close to them, you could end up going into another heat.
The other possibilities were more nightmarish. You’d heard horror stories about depraved alphas who would kidnap omegas and force them into becoming their mates against their will. Dominance amongst alphas these days was often synonymous with entitlement, something many of them would use to justify their disgusting actions. If this person nearby was of the same barbaric mindset…
Despite the storm of conflicting emotions raging within you, you remain rooted to the spot. It was just no use; you couldn’t convince yourself to retreat. Curiosity and the need for closure far outweighed your fear and anxiety. You had to find out the identity of this individual, regardless of the risk.
You steel yourself before nervously trudging in the direction of the scent. For whatever reason, the strength of the alpha’s pheromones was nowhere near the same extent as it was on that night. It was soothing this time, like a hot shower at the end of an exhausting day. Had the increased dose of your heat suppressants been responsible for this? Well, no use in questioning it now.
As the aroma grows stronger, you find yourself heading closer towards the sea. The sun was starting to peak over the tussling waves, and you briefly turned your head to avoid receiving an eyeful of blinding light. It’s in the periphery of your vision that you finally see him: the alpha that had been evading you for so long.
Even from a several yards away, you can tell he’s quite tall; standing at a height of around 185 cm. He’s also naked from the waist up, with only a pair of shredded jeans on his figure. But what captivates you most is the feverishness and intensity of his gaze. No one had ever looked at you like this before. It was almost reverent. Like you were some kind of deity.
The man staggers towards you slowly. Had he been hurt? There didn’t appear to be a scratch on him, although his remaining clothes were a mess. You reason that he must be experiencing heat exhaustion. This would explain why he had taken off his shirt. Your hackles lowered, you decide to throw caution to the wind and approach the man.
His body gives out just as you begin to close the distance between the two of you. You immediately pick up the pace, turning your walk into a jog. You’re able to catch him right before he falls face first into the sand. That was a close one, you think, releasing a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding. You’re able to fully take in the man’s appearance now that he was close enough to hold.
He was unspeakably handsome. As a stylist in the entertainment industry, you’ve seen your fair share of gorgeous celebrities. But all of them paled in comparison to the robust beauty of the man before you. Unblemished olive skin that was smooth to the touch. Silken ebony tresses that you were tempted to run your fingers through. And a God-like physique that had your pulse quickening. What you’d give to caress the rippling muscles of his torso...
Just who in the world was this ethereal alpha? And how was he able to sleep so soundly in the arms of a virtual stranger? The man had even nuzzled his face in between the valley of your breasts as if it was the most natural thing on earth! Oddly enough, you weren’t put off by his actions. In fact, you found them to be endearing. Was this what it was like to form a predestined bond with someone?
You briefly consider texting your friends to get help for the man but decide against it once you start weighing your options. If he was transported to the hospital, there was a chance he would be forcibly separated from you. What’s more, if it was found out that he was the one who caused your false heat, there could be far reaching consequences. You were still being monitored on set, and Jinchul might deem this man to be a threat to you.
He didn’t look to be injured, at least not physically, so you rule out the hospital. You deliberate for a few more minutes before ultimately choosing to wait and bide your time until he regained consciousness.
The two of you remain entangled in this strange embrace as stunning shades of orange, red, and yellow paint the sky. The waves shine incandescently in the sunlight, and you find yourself facing the ocean, distracted by its splendor. After a few minutes, you feel something shifting in your arms.
You return your focus to the man. He’s finally started to stir, groggily raising his head from your chest.  You both lock eyes, your wide-eyed gaze contrasting with his half lidded one. You see his chapped lips open and close, mouthing only one word: 'Omega.'
You feel a shiver run down your spine. Alpha, your inner omega silently preens, instinct taking over.
The man attempts to talk to you again, but you hush him with the gentle press of your index finger to his lips. He obeys right away and makes no further efforts to speak. You had many questions that you wanted to ask, but that could wait for just a little longer. Your alph – no, this alpha, was in desperate need of some water. He looked awfully parched.
You unzip the tote bag you brought with you and sift through its contents before producing a canteen filled with water. You open it and push the lid to his mouth, motioning for him to drink. He follows your orders without a second thought, taking several generous gulps. Rivulets of excess water drip from the corner of his mouth, down his Adam’s apple, and you find yourself getting distracted by his body again. You internally curse as you feel yourself growing wet. You discreetly press your thighs together, hoping to dull the ache building between them.
You fail to notice the flare of the man’s nostrils or his blown-out pupils as he watches your actions from the corner of his eye.
When he’s finally had his fill, you cap your canteen and place it to the side. You then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. The man shoots you an uneasy look when he sees it in your hand. Was he unfamiliar with mobile devices? You type a quick message in your notebook app and turn the screen towards him.
“I’m going to use my phone to communicate with you because I have a hearing impairment. Is that alright? I just want to make sure you aren’t hurt.”
The boyish look of surprise that crosses his face while he reads doesn’t escape you. He must not have been expecting you to be deaf. You anxiously await his response, unsure of what his reaction will be.
His expression morphs into something akin to barely concealed wonder, and he nods his head. You breathe deep and type away on your phone again. Your next message elaborates on your concerns.
"First, can you tell me if you’re in any pain or if you’re injured? If you are, I can get an ambulance for you. My name is Y/N, by the way.”
His eyes quickly flit over your words. In response, he dips one of his fingers into the wet sand. You’re curious at first, until you start to recognize the shapes that he’s drawing as letters. Why was he writing in the sand? Was he not comfortable with using your phone?
Once finished, his message reads:
“I’m unharmed. I do not need help. Thank you for the water.”
Great, so he wasn’t hurt. Now you can finally focus on getting some damn answers!
You start typing furiously, pouring all your heart into unspoken anger. As soon as you’re finished you nearly slam the mobile device into the man’s face. He blinks owlishly, looking adorably confused by your actions. You don’t know whether you want to slap or kiss him.
“Now that I know you’re okay, can you please answer a few questions for me? Tell me, were you sailing near a large yacht a few weeks ago? There was this scent that day, an alpha’s scent. It smelt incredible. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to find this person. And then I came across you! You have the exact same smell as them! And you’re obviously an alpha yourself since you recognized me as an omega right away.  Please, just tell me who you are! I ended up going into heat because of that alpha, and I feel like I’ve been losing my mind over them!”
The man’s face flickers from shock to guilt as he reads your explosive words. You regret typing them almost immediately when you see the sadness in his steel gray eyes.
He tries to use your phone to write back, but he’s clumsy and ends up swiping his fingers over a bunch of random characters. He huffs and bites his lip, clearly embarrassed. Crap, now you were feeling even worse about unleashing your tirade on him. You’ve always had a temper on you, and it often led to you lashing out and hurting the people you cherished most. And now you had allowed your mounting frustration to get the better of you in front of this poor man. For all you knew, he could be an innocent bystander who was just trying to get some help after becoming overheated.
You had to set things right.
You gently take the phone from the man’s hands, place it in your lap, and cup his cheek. He nervously glances at you, afraid that you’ll still be mad at him. But he’s greeted by your warm smile instead. Reassured, his shoulders relax, and he leans into your touch. After a few moments, you withdraw your hand, eager to continue the conversation. You can’t help but mourn the loss of contact as you resume your typing, however. Your next message reads:
“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have taken out all my anger on you, especially when you probably don’t have anything to do with this. Please, allow me to start all over again and explain everything to you. Just so I can confirm if you’re the same person I bumped into several days ago. And don’t worry about having to use my phone. I’ve got a pen and a notebook you can write on.”
His eyes take on a hopeful sheen, and you have to force yourself to part from him in order to get to your bag. He really was too charming for his own good, this strange alpha…
That reminds you, you still hadn’t gotten his name!
Once the writing utensils are given to him, he starts scribbling away. His chicken scratch is barely legible, but it was better than nothing. Your handwriting wasn’t necessarily the best either, if you were being honest. He wrote:
“Omega, you are not at fault for anything. I should be the one asking for forgiveness. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. My name is Sung Jin-woo, an alpha from Jindo-gun. I am the person who was exploring the area around that large boat several nights ago. I became worried when I smelt an omega’s scent. It was you; you were the omega I was seeking that day. I should have shown myself to you sooner. What happened to you after I left? Did any other alphas approach you?"
Sung Jin-woo, huh? It suited him. He had an oddly formal way of writing though, one that clashed with his youthful appearance. This time, you don’t miss the possessiveness in his eyes as he writes that last sentence.
‘Did any other alphas approach you?’
You gulp, reminiscing over the entire ordeal with Kang Taeshik. Should you even tell Jin-woo? By now the problem had been resolved and Taeshik was already fired. There was no reason for you to make Jin-woo feel even worse about causing your heat.
In the end, you choose not to mention Taeshik. He was out of the picture, and you didn’t have to worry about him anymore.
You resume typing in your notebook app, your response stating:
“No, not really. My boss found me on the verge of passing out, though. He’s an alpha so he could tell why I wasn’t feeling well. I was taken to a hospital by my friends since they’re both betas. I had to stay in bed for a week, but as you can already tell I’m alright now. I’m just glad I was finally able to meet you, Jin-woo 😊 You see, I work on that big ship. I’m a makeup artist and hair stylist, and the yacht is the set for a movie that’s being filmed…”
The next few hours pass in companiable silence as you communicate through pen strokes and text messages. Both you and Jin-woo had shared a considerable amount about one another over this time span.
You learn that Jin-woo had grown up on the island, much like you. He lived with his mother and little sister on the outskirts of town and served as the sole provider of the family after his father passed away. When you question what he did for a living, he paused before writing he was a fisherman. This would explain why he was out so early in the morning. The most ideal times to fish were sunset and sunrise. But how had his clothes gotten torn up like that? When you asked, he merely answered that he fell off his boat and had almost gotten swept up in the propellor. Apparently, his shirt and pants had been destroyed by the turning of the blades. You were incredulous at first, given just how dangerous that sounded, but Jin-woo had a way of selling you with his words. You eventually found yourself believing him despite your previous skepticism. He must have also been fishing that night two weeks ago.
Jin-woo had asked you many questions as well. He seemed particularly concerned about your heat cycle. When you disclosed the cause of it was your compatibility with him, his entire body tensed. Jin-woo’s hands then started to shake and you took one of them in your own to calm him. He glances at you, and you’re taken aback by the fire in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, you fear that you might’ve revealed something you shouldn’t have. Before you can compose an apology, Jin-woo releases your hand, picks up his pen, and starts writing again. Once finished, he gives you the notebook with an expression of apprehension on his face.
“Is this something you’re comfortable with? Now that we’ve met, I’m really interested in getting to know you more. But how do you feel about me? Do you want to continue this conversation? I understand if you’d want me to leave after everything you were forced to endure.”
How did you feel about him?
You mull over all that’s occurred since returning to your hometown. You had never expected to encounter so many trials and tribulations. By all accounts, you had every right to cease any further contact with Jin-woo. But you were undeniably intrigued by him. He had been nothing but respectful of your boundaries, and you found yourself being drawn in by his earnest personality. If nothing else came from this meeting between the two of you, then at least you could become friends.
You type an honest response and wait on bated breath as he reads it:
“I’m not sure how I feel about us right now. Honestly, I don’t believe in things like destiny or fate when it comes to finding a soulmate. But I do want to continue seeing you. I also would like to learn more about you as a person. Maybe we can take things slow and figure it out from there. What do you say, Jin-woo😉?”
All the anxiety seems to melt away from Jin-woo’s face. A cute grin tugs at his lips, lighting his darkened visage.
His answer is succinct:
“I’d really like that, Y/N.”
Your heart skips a beat. That was the first time he used your name.
A small part of you starts to wonder if the two of you really are fated to be together. Cheesy as it sounds, you were more than willing to take a chance on this budding relationship with Jin-woo.
Little did you know this meeting would set in motion a series of tragic events that would shatter countless lives and forever leave a stain on the island’s reputation.
🔱 To be continued...
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laurasimonsdaughter · 6 months ago
Text
A farrier and her son were closing down the forge late at night, when the sound of hooves approached from up the road. They looked out across the yard and watched, with growing discomfort, how a hooded figure on a blood bay horse came riding towards them. Steed and rider halted at the gate, and the farrier hesitantly lifted her hand as the stranger spoke, in a voice as searing as fire:
“I am expected in the next town and my horse needs shodding.”
Neither master nor apprentice dared to lift up their eyes.
“Yes, sir,” the farrier answered and the figure dismounted.
The bay was a formidable animal, but it followed its master’s orders. The farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge and she shaped the horseshoes exactly to the horse’s feet. But when it came to the shoeing, the nails that her son put in her hand were barely half the length of what was needed. She held them, and hesitated, and nailed the irons in place.
“What is your fee?” the stranger asked, once more taking the reigns of his steed.
“No fee, my lord,” the farrier replied. “An honour to serve you.”
The hooded rider went away and mother and son stayed behind, too frightened to speak. But barely had they gathered their courage and turned their backs to the road, or a second rider approached them.
He too was hooded, and his horse was black as night.
“One of my fellows went before me and I follow where he goes,” the rider spoke with a voice as dry as the cracked earth. “But my horse needs shodding.”
Once again the farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge, one again she affixed the horseshoes with nails too short by half. She would take no fee for their labour, and the stranger rode off into the night.
No sooner had the sound of pounding hooves faded from their hearing, or a third set of hooves could be heard coming nearer.
This rider rode a white horse and his words dripped with the thickness of his voice.
“My horse needs shodding, for two of my fellows have gone before me and where they go I am close at hand.”
Barely a word was spoken. They shod the stranger's horse exactly like the others, and watched him gallop away. Then the farrier took her son’s hand, stood in the yard, and waited.
Slowly, at a steady pace, a fourth figure came down the road and halted at their gate. His hood and cloak were black, he carried a scythe at his side, and sat astride a pale horse.
“Three of my fellows have gone down this road, and whatever their destination they choose must be my own. If I am to go where they are going, my horse will need shoeing.”
“Of course, sir,” the farrier replied, but her son spoke up:
“But must you?”
The figure bowed his cowled head and cosigned his horse to the farrier’s care.
Again she carefully trimmed the hooves, again she expertly shaped the horseshoes, but when her son handed her the nails she shook her head. He faltered and she shook her head again. He gave her the proper nails and they finished their work.
“Thank you,” the stranger nodded. “What is your fee?”
“Whatever you deem our services are worth, my lord.”
The stranger held his horse by the reigns and for a long time he looked thoughtfully down the road where the three had gone before him. Then he looked at the mother and son, standing stiffly side by side.
He held out a thin hand and gave them each a single coin, one just like the other, before mounting his horse, and turning back in the direction from which he had come, riding at the same unhurried pace.
The farrier and her son watched him until he was out of sight and out of hearing. They stood there, until dawn broke, and the dark was chased away. Only then did they did they dare to lock the gate and go to the house, where the rest of family still slept soundly.
The two coins were placed in salt and buried underneath the doorstep. And for as long as that house stood, no one who was born under its roof was carried out of it before their time.
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mehiwilldoitlater · 3 months ago
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please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...
May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .
(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)
How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.
His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.
His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.
In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.
A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.
You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.
The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.
You two really did a lot together?
///
You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.
But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life. 
But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.
You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...
///
"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"
"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"
Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.
Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?
One day, he finally knew the answer.
When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner. 
When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.
"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"
Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.
"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."
And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!
"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"
The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.
"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"
You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.
"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"
He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.
"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"
You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.
"You...you won't?"
"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"
"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."
"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"
"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."
"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"
"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."
He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth. 
"Say, do you like these horses?"
"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"
"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"
///
And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.
He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.
And so rumors started to spread. 
The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.
Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.
But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.
One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.
He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.
So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!
"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"
"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"
He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.
"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"
And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...
Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.
It was the first time in his life.
///
"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.
"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."
"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"
"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.
"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"
"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"
And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.
///
He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!
And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.
You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.
When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.
In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.
But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.
///
"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"
"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear." 
He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.
"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"
Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.
You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.
And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.
///
When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.
You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.
"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"
"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"
Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!
When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.
When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.
"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"
"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"
And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...
And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.
When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.
///
"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"
His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.
"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"
Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.
"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."
"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."
///
And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.
Not against Erlang Shen.
When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.
When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.
Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...
But he played against more capable opponents.
///
You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.
"You're hurting yourself more..."
"WAIT until I break free!"
"You won't..."
"Are you doubting me?! "
You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.
"Where are you going?! Stop!"
"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."
"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"
When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.
"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."
He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.
"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.
"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"
///
As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.
Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.
With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.
For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.
And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.
But your story was short-lived, you guessed. 
///
Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.
He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.
He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo. 
"Shhhh...sleep..."
Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.
"Wukong, I had... a dream."
"A Dream? It was good?"
"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."
He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."
He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.
"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."
"Where are you going?"
"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."
You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.
And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.
He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.
///
He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.
But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?
He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.
How ironic and unkind...
He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.
You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.
It's fine. That's enough. No more.
In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.
He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.
And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.
He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.
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thedemonofcat · 2 months ago
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“Dandelion!”
“I actually go by ‘Jaskier’ now,” the fairy said from where he lounged atop a giant mushroom. He rolled over to look down at the white-haired witcher. “What do you want? I haven’t even been in the human realm for years.”
The witcher replied, “I know. I don’t come to slay you. I’m here to bargain. Your bargains are known to be fair.”
Jaskier sighed, rolling his shoulders and fluttering his wings. “You see, this is why I left the human realm. Everyone wants to make deals. Why does everything have to be about deals?”
“I’ve brought treasures.” The Witcher continued, ignoring Jaskier’s point. “Take any of them. Take all of them. I just need twelve hours of uninterrupted, restful sleep.”
That ignited Jaskier’s interest. He rolled off the mushroom and soared down to look at the witcher properly.
Wow. He did look worse for wear. Jaskier almost couldn’t appreciate how beautiful his eyes were because of how bloodshot they were.
“Oh, you poor dear. You do need rest. Such a thing is easy for me to grant. So much so that I’d feel guilty taking your treasures. I’ll just ask for a little kiss instead.
Although Jaskier thought his offer was quite generous, the witcher balked.
Well, “there’s no need to be rude!”
“Sorry,” the witcher mumbled. “I just haven’t before.”
“Oh?” Jaskier said, and then he understood. “Oh! I did not mean to be so bold as to ask for your virtue.”
The witcher honest-to-gods blushed and grumbled, “not a virgin.”
“But you are a tad innocent,” Jaskier teased.
The witcher stuck out his hand, saying, “I accept your deal.”
Being the gentleman he was, Jaskier took the gloved hand and brought it to his lips. The magic of the deal burst to life the moment his lips brushed against black leather. “Sleep well, darling.”
Because he was a soft touch, Jaskier caught the suddenly sleeping witcher and even carried him back to his steed (lovely girl. Very protective, but she was smart enough to not try to bite Jaskier until Geralt was sleeping beside her).
Jaskier assumed he would never see the witcher again.
He was proven wrong.
Jaskier thought he’d been careful—at least, careful enough. But somehow, he’d still ended up in human hands.
"Let me go!" Jaskier shouted, yanking futilely at the iron chain clamped around his ankle. His wings beat desperately, but he couldn’t get far.
"Now, I may have exaggerated a bit about the ‘monster problem,’” came the smooth, smug voice of his captor from the other side of the door. “I don’t need you to kill anything, Witcher. Just to help me... train my new pet."
A key turned in the lock, and as soon as the door cracked open, Jaskier lunged. His hands missed the nobleman by inches, but he did manage to snatch a feathered quill from his belt.
"Bad!" the nobleman yelped, yanking the chain to pull Jaskier back. "I do apologize—”
Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the scene before him; he’d expected a standard job, but this was anything but. "You captured a fae," he said, voice low with warning. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
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eldenringslut · 3 months ago
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There’s an interesting piece of DLC lore I don’t think I’ve seen anyone discuss in detail yet. Namely that Freyja and Jerren both want what’s best for Radahn, but each have very different ideas of what that entails.
Both of them consider Radahn’s death at your hands to be a good and honourable one. But upon learning of Miquella’s plans, Frejya says this:
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She seems to fully buy into the image Radahn portrays of being a warrior who lives and thrives in war. And to some extent she’s correct, with Radahn modelling himself after Godfrey (a warlord and conquerer) and even attempting to invade Leyndell during the Shattering Wars.
Jerren on the other hand, would rather Radahn be left in peace after being given an honourable death. The description of Jerren’s helmet reads:
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The wording here is very important, implying both a very close relationship between Radahn and Jerren (which is also supported by how intimately Jerren speaks about Radahn) and that Radahn himself wished for an honourable death. This means that Radahn’s preferences likely align more with Jerren’s than with Freyja’s, and that he never wanted to be revived as Miquella’s consort.
One could still argue that Radahn simply wished to have an honourable death before becoming consort, but I think that doesn’t make much sense. If he were willing, it seems strange and convuluted that Radahn would ask to be killed in battle before becoming Lord rather than just becoming Lord immediately.
Additionally, the story makes more thematic sense if Radahn is brainwashed. Remember, Fromsoftware loves to give characters ironic or contrary fates. Radahn represents stagnation. He holds the stars and fate in stasis, styles himself in reference to past Elden Lords and refuses to leave his scrawny horse despite how cruel it is for him to still ride his sickly steed.
In the base game, this is brought to an ironic conclusion with him being infected by the scarlet rot, a more literal representation of stagnation and decay. But the DLC takes it even further. Ironically given his goal of bringing about a new Age of Compassion, Miquella too is unable to move on from the past. He clings to his (probably one sided) vow with Radahn and forces him to become his consort.
The God of a new age unable to let go of the past, and a Lord of stagnation forced to participate in bringing about a new era. These fates are the height of dramatic irony, and honestly I think Fromsoftware’s only mistake here was not foreshadowing it enough in the base game beforehand.
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sp4ceboo · 3 months ago
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CHAPTER 5 ~ VISIONS
beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6
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pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader
genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance
a/n: for someone who's terrified of any sort of horror etc i sure get the urge to write it
chapter warnings: gore, lots of vivdly described disturbing stuff, illness, starvation, hallucinations
chapter word count: 2.5k
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Hissing in your ears, the shadows bear you up in their arms, whisking you so high that you thrash in their shackles, screaming for them to let you down.
The whites of their eyes show as they laugh at you.
You sob, trying to grab at the inky chains they’ve fixed around your wrists and ankles, but they turn insubstantial the moment your fingers close around them, dissolving away in curls of cold smoke to reform away from your touch. Grinning faces surround you, multitudes of strange faces you cannot explain: an army assembled to mock you.
In a flash, they are gone. Bony fingers crawl over your face. Flailing, you try to bite down, but another hand clamps over your mouth as the fingers creep upwards, digging into your eye sockets and scooping. Cold envelops you, and you spasm, back arching as sight returns to you.
There’s bloody tears dripping down your face.
You weep.
Below you, a vast crowd stretches, wreathed in flames and lined up in endless rows, so far that you cannot see their ends. Dressed in rags that they treat as finery are a man and a woman, standing at the head of the formation, their faces slack and empty. Their bodies are not theirs to control.
The woman’s blonde hair hangs limp and matted around her face. There’s a glint of something metal at her waist. It’s the hilt of a knife, snug between her ribs, and though blood oozes down her clothes and soaks into her rags, she acts as if it isn’t there. Beside her, the man sways, bronzed skin pallid and coated in a sheen of sweat; he looks not entirely healthy, as if he’d just recovered from an illness. 
A figure rides up. Even from so far above, you feel the blaze of his hate. His horse is a steed forged from an inferno, red and fiery, and you catch a glimpse of sharpened iron teeth as its lip curls, tossing its flame weaved mane and pawing at the ground, the air around it undulating with heat. You begin to tremble.
The rider’s face is terrible and beguiling. His flesh drips from his bones, sizzling where it touches the horse's flanks. You are struck through with terror as his eyes find you from where you are suspended in the wine tinted sky; they are deep and endless and full of an ocean of loathing. For a moment, you are drowning in them, and fire tugs at your limbs, ripping your skin off them and gnawing through you until it finds your heart.
A wretched sound leaves you as the rider stretches out his hand and plucks it from your chest. The worst thing is that beneath the fear and the acrid scent of your burning body, there is an unexplainable elation, planted there against your will. It swells in your chest, and you begin to laugh, laugh and laugh and laugh, as the rider brings your heart to his bloody mouth and sinks his teeth in.
Pain explodes through you, and suddenly you are back in the sky. You clutch at the shadows now, pleading for them to keep you away from the rider, pleading for them to make it stop.
Again, they laugh, a chorus of shrieks and cackles, shrill, the sound boring into your head.
Though your limbs are weak with fear, you still find it within you to struggle against them. Wordless, frightened noises leave you, for below, the rider is cradling the face of the woman, close as a lover, and she is transfixed by him. You scream, begging her to pull away, to resist, but a dumb smile crawls over her face and she drops to her knees before the rider. As she falls, he grips the blade in her side and pulls it out. She does not even twitch.
You can only watch in horror as he moves onto the man. He too kneels without a fight.
Pulling the broadsword from where it is slung over his back, the second horseman draws it and rests the flat of it on the woman’s shoulder. For a panic stricken moment, you think he will behead her right there and eviscerate her beside the man, but he doesn’t.
He knights her, then the man next.
The rider gestures at them, and together, they stand, their movements jerky as if pulled on by puppet strings. You cry out when you see their eyes - deep and murky, insidious darkness leaking from their irises into their blood woven sclera.
All semblance of humanity has been erased from them.
They are nothing more than vessels.
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Cool hands cup your face.
Moaning, you lean towards them, willing them to stay there and beat back the scorching desert beneath your skin. You can hear voices, but they’re far away. Your breath comes out short and laboured.
It sounds like you’re dying.
The same cool hands ease your jaw open, and water floods your parched tongue. At first, you cough, but you choke it down, so thirsty that you barely pause to breathe. Blearily, you open your eyes, but they don’t make out anything but light and dark blurs.
“She’s drinking, thank god,” the cool hands say.
You frown. It’s Minho’s voice, flat enough that you can’t read the emotions swirling beneath it, but his words sound relieved. You can’t think why Minho would be relieved that you’re alive. The room is slowly swimming into focus, and you spot two smears of black, one a little taller than the other.
A rough palm touches your cheek. “She’s still burning up, though.”
That’s Seungmin. Turning your head, you try to claw your way to lucidity, but it evades you. The cool hands sweep a damp cloth over your forehead as you begin to register his words.
“Burning,” you rasp. “He’ll make them burn everything down.”
Minho pauses, opening his mouth. The shadows sink their teeth into you before you can hear what he says.
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This time, they leave you under a reddened night sky devoid of stars. No shackles bind you, but you can sense them slinking in the corners of your vision and where you cannot see, waiting to pounce. Turning in a circle, you scan the darkness, searching for the next horror that awaits you.
The sound of horse hooves rings out. You whirl around, trying to find their source, trying to ignore the tittering of the shadows as they mock you with their derisive faces.
You blink, and then the third horseman is there before you.
She sits astride a horse so black that it had blended into the circle of shadows as it approached. It is glossy and healthy looking, yet it froths at the mouth, snapping its teeth at you. The rider places a soft hand on its flank, and it calms. She smiles at you, saccharine, and it incites so much comfort inside you that you know it’s a lie.
Her extrasolar face is cold and so beautiful it cuts you, her lacy hair like cobwebs where it hangs around her face. It drapes, dripping, over her shoulders - a veil.
There’s blood on your tongue.
You take a step back, and the gentle look on her face turns ugly. Holding up her hand, a pair of scales appears between her fingers, and she places a delicate feather, white as a lamb, in the first dish.
Though there’s nothing in the second dish, the moment she releases the feather, it hurtles downwards - the scales shriek shrilly as they move, and you watch in horror as the feather begins to bleed until it is soaked red. The rider turns to you, and now there is nothing comforting about her sharpened smile. Heart pounding, you back away, but the shadows push you back towards her, and what you believe must certainly be your doom.
She raises her hand and points at you.
Immediately, you collapse, your stomach cramping. You are filled with a sudden craving, a hunger so vast you cannot think; you merely scrabble at the floor, tremors wracking your body as you cry out, needing to fill the yawning cavern inside you. It erodes you from the inside out, so acute it burns like vile acid.
Wailing, you claw your way forward until your vision is filled with the hooves of her horse. You are weak with hunger, so weak that it is a battle to raise your head and look up at her, your mouth hanging open to plead for her to release you from the pain. No sound comes out.
Caressing the horse’s mane, she leans forward and whispers into its velvety ear. You quake as you look up at her, wondering what she said, wondering if she will take mercy on you and knowing she will not.
Whinnying, the horse rears, and you scream as its hooves slam down and punch right through your ribcage.
The combined agony radiating from your crushed torso and the gaping hunger in your stomach paralyses you, locking your muscles so tight it hurts. Your body begins to spasm, and your teeth close around your tongue. Panic spears through you as you begin to choke on your own blood.
Your skin tears, your bones cracking and popping and rearranging within you. You’re aware of protrusions pushing their way out of your back and down your arms, burrowing through your muscles and forcing them to reform around them. When you look up, the rider has dismounted her horse.
Tenderly, she touches your lips.
As if it has its own will, your body bends like a tree in a gale, and she kisses your forehead, her scarlet mouth terrible and searing against your skin, yet upon its touch, the pain in your ribs recedes, reforming you into something new.
The hunger roiling and snapping like a beast within only sharpens its claws.
“Go,” she murmurs. “Slaughter awaits.”
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The world shakes with how hard you’re shivering, yet you can’t help but kick off your blankets. Someone secures them more tightly around them and you lash out, but your arms are weak and all it does is flop your hand against their leg. A voice floats down from somewhere in the sky.
“You need to eat.”
“Chan?” You groan, words slurred as strong hands ease you upright. “Changbin?”
“We’re here,” one of them says, although you’re not sure which one.
A spoon is pressed against your lips, and you hold back a cough long enough to swallow - they’ve mashed food so it’s liquid, easier for you to get down and keep down. Your head spins, the faces before you blurring. You realise Jisung is also with them, crouched beside Changbin, his face pale as he watches you.
“What did you mean before, about slaughter?”
Another face swims into view. Jeongin. You stare at him, bewildered both by his question and why he is bobbing up and down in front of you like a rubber duck caught in the crashing waves of the sea.
“I - I don’t remember,” you mumble.
Chan puts his hand on Jeongin’s shoulder. “It’s fine. She’ll tell us when she’s better.”
He says it like it’s final, like he’s sure that you will get through it, like there’s no other option. You want to believe him.
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The shadows craft you a leash out of the ephemeral material that clothes them. Laughing, always laughing, they secure it around your neck, so tight that only strained gasps of air make it out of you, and drag you along with them, letting your body get broken and battered by the rocks in their path. Mud chokes your lungs, settling heavy in your chest when you inhale it, and fragments of rubbish and twigs tangle into your hair.
They’re bringing you to someone.
You begin to kick and struggle then, tearing at the leash, but it sinks deeper into your flesh, and your own torn nails leave gashes in your skin. As normal, your screams fall on deaf ears, and you writhe, knowing that who they’re taking you to will be far worse than the previous you’ve seen.
The collar of shadow rings tighter around your neck. Tighter and tighter and tighter until an abyss gapes open below you, and you fall right through, and this time even the shadows forsake you, letting you descend into the blackness as they recede from your vision. Somehow, it brings you no comfort, for they too fear he who has summoned you.
Your bones crunch and snap as you land; it is certain that the fall has ended you, and now your soul is trapped in the cage of your broken ribs, fluttering and trying to shake itself free. You cannot move. You cannot flee.
A pale horse walks towards you, yet its hooves make no noise. Fearful, you raise your eyes to see its rider.
He too is pale, and wreathed in a colourless cloak that casts a shadow over his face, yet you can see his skeletal features, motionless and terribly still within his cowl. The arc of the scythe in his fingers winks at you, even in the dark, and he uses the end of it to hook you and drag you from your body. Your bones clatter as your essence leaves them.
Death holds you in the palm of his hand, and you are captivated by the darkness within his hood. You know that this is the moment that your life rests upon.
“I have come to reap,” he says, with a voice like the slam of nails into a coffin lid. “Yet your time is not up yet.”
Again, you are falling.
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There’s someone talking to you. You can see his face, see his lips moving, but you don’t understand a word he’s saying.
You don’t remember his name, nor the name of the one beside him, but you know who they are: there’s the blonde angel, his eyes earnest and worried as they search your slack face, and the dark haired prince, his handsome face etched in fear as he wipes your brow with a damp cloth.
The angel clasps your hands in his small ones, and this time, his words are audible, drifting down to you as if he talks to you from the top of a canyon while you’re tied to the bottom of the gorge, straining to hear his words. You fight to pick them out from the whisperings of the shadows, the freckles on his face swirling like constellations.
“Fight it,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “Fight just a little longer.”
You want to. You want to fight it, but the shadows creep closer, tugging at your limbs, and suddenly you’re just their puppet, them the cruel puppeteers.
You watch in horror as your own hands rear up like snakes and claw at the angel’s face.
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taglist: @estella-novella@0bticeo@lixies-favorite-cookie@smashleywow@realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 (let me know if you want to be added)
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vanilleandclove · 6 months ago
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the meadow in which you lay | 4
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ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | chapter four: to ward and protect
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As the news of Viserys's death rings through the realm, you quickly take arms to aide your cousin and be her greatest asset as she has fully begun her labors. Making way to King's Landing as quickly as you could, taking the connecting road from Dragonstone rather than sailing.
word count: 1.5k | warnings: conversations of religion and faith, descriptions of a high-risk birth. erryk jinxes his own death... | a/n: i changed how rhaenyra finds out the death of viserys and how her birthing sequence was! everything is in fact, intentional. this part is shorter than the others (filler lol). happy hotd day!
previous - next
taglist: @wolvestitches @holb32 @callsignwidow @fwaeriys @hummusxx
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"The life of King Viserys was taken brother" you spat, your hand gripping your hair under stress, the night was dark and only the livestock were filling the gaps in silence, "He was murdered by the Hightower's as they drunken him with milk of the poppy, Rhaenyra, Daemon and I- we all saw it".
"I am only sharing the news for you to make arrangements with our cousin, they plan to anoint Aegon as King to the Iron Throne" your brother gripped your upper arm, "We will rally support for our cousin's claim just as she is our kin, but she needs your support at court. You and I both know of Daemon's temper, Rhaenyra may not want a war immediately, but he will" he continued, "You may also seek comfort with… Erryk" your brother lightly teased.
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It took a near several days, few days too long, to reach Dragonstone, just as Rhaenyra began her labors, you had reached Dragonstone. The halls filled with your cousins screams, your brother demanding the knights to find Daemon, you searched the halls to find Jace and Luke, only to find them sparring on the beach.
"The Lady Y/n Arryn!" the knights announced in sync, causing the boys to shift their attention rather quickly, smiles donning on the princes' faces only to be diminished as they noticed the somber look on your face.
"Your mother is in labor dear boys!" you shouted, "She will need your support".
As the boys sprinted to flee the beach and return back to the keep, you saw the look of concern reach both the children's faces, you quickly followed just behind the two before reaching Rhaenyra's chambers; her groans of pain filling the walls of the room, bouncing off the stones. You left the boys to their mother before Rhaenyra called you into the room.
"I will set voyage to King's Landing Rhaenyra" you told her immediately, "They surely taken Rhaenys as prisoner, perhaps I can free her". Your cousin gripped your hand like a vice, before nodding at your words, seeing the sheer and unrelenting agony your cousin was facing. "I can wait until the end of your labors" you spoke with concern, staring into her eyes and rubbing her back.
She shook her head before dismissing you. You immediately reached your horse before setting voyage for King's Landing, not caring how sore the inner parts of your thighs were or how exhausted you were, your cousin needed you. Taking from the look of her face and the absence of Daemon in her chambers as she was birthing.
You rather wished to have a dragon to set this voyage, but your horse, a beautiful, white steed was enough. You had sharpened your sword before setting off to Dragonstone with your brother, though not having to brandish it, you would rather be safe than sorry.
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Taking two-night falls to reach King's Landing, promptly being met with the acts of whores and drunks running rapid in the streets of silk. You knew the sneakier spots of the Red Keep, ones where guards do not patrol, but you had to change your attire to your undergarments as they were rather less formal. As you avoided the guards easily before being met with silver directly to your face.
You cursed your lack of plan before realizing who you ran into, Erryk. His hand quickly coming to your mouth to stop you from yelping, scurrying you both off into a quarter, locking the door just behind you to prevent unwanted visitors. You searched his eyes as you knew them to be ravaged with concern and guilt, as he rested his forehead on yours, your heart thumping in your chest.
"You could have gotten yourself killed my Lady" Erryk's lip quivered before resting a hand on your waist, you faintly sobbed before grabbing a hold of the knight's face, "How did you-?".
"Do not worry about it" you answered, kissing the knight deeply, "I must find Princess Rhaenys, I was hoping I'd find you under different circumstances".
"Alicent has imprisoned her in her quarters and has kept Meleys in the Dragon Pit" Erryk faltered, "I cannot reach her just yet, Criston has been guarding her door heavily".
"We both know how piss poor Criston is at his job" you chuckled, "Tomorrow is Aegon's coronation, Criston will be occupied. If you need aide to take down the guard after him, I will gladly help my love".
He laughed, looking deeply into your irises, wishing to love you more than just by words and soulful feelings, kissing your lips once more. "I missed you my Lady" placing another kiss on your lips, this time filled with the wanton need for your own soul, how beautiful your light whimpers were. Your kisses were halted by the noises of the maidens and maesters roaming the halls, your foreheads touching once more.
"We cannot, not now at least" you began, "Let us just lay together Erryk, come morning we will have Rhaenys and Meleys. I know of your hatred to the usurper and his kin, swearing fealty to Rhaenyra is an oath you may choose if you wish. I will swear to aide my cousin in this battle for the throne no matter your position".
"I love you" he whispered, "I will follow the true heir, Queen Rhaenyra. I swore an oath, I plan to keep it" he continued, before kissing you once more. You often wondered how many sins you have committed under the eyes of the Seven, granted you never expressed such emphasis in creed, though you honored the ones who did for they had a better purpose to live than you did.
"Do you believe in fate?" you questioned the knight as there was a silent pause between the two of you, "That everything happens for a reason rather than that of nature's design?".
"I believe we all have set paths that our experiences guide us to" Erryk answered, "But some things are of nature's design. I could die on the hour, but I can also die in a fortnight from today, or when I am old and spent".
You would hope to whatever deity that was looking over your conversation that his death would be one of peace, when he is in fact old and frail, not when he has years of wisdom and love ahead of him. You could only hope, what such a dangerous concept to leave in the hands of stranger you never once knew. You did envy Alicent of one thing, her gods excused her treachery, only wishing the Seven could have blessed you when it came to who you found yourself in love with.
Come the hour of the wolf, all murmurs of the streets simmered, the only noise that filled your ears was that of Erryk's soft huffs and heartbeat as your head laid on his chest. Erryk's calloused hand found purchase in your hair as he slept; whereas you found yourself restless, perhaps a symptom of anxiousness that riddled your bones so much that it penetrated into your soul.
What dark games the life you held in your hands played, wishing for your burdens to be released. Not wishing to wake the knight that laid under your body, how the long hours of being a part of the Kingsguard must have also burdened him greatly. You too would be deeply trammeled if you had to guard the secrets of Aegon, depravity and all. Venturing on into your mind, you wondered how your cousin was holding up in the wake of her labors.
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The morning came as quick as the night, the faint pain that pounding in your head was a nuisance, but you had duties to proceed to. As you helped Erryk dress into his armor, you caught glimpses of cuts and scars that littered his back, noticing the definition of the muscle in his arms.
"May you?" Erryk held the white cloak in his hands, a reminder of the oaths he took. You nodded, though his back to you inhibited him from seeing. You clipped the cloak into his armor, careful not to pinch his skin.
You may not believe in fate, but you do believe it was written in the constellations that you were bound to meet the knight of your dreams.
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lawslinger · 9 months ago
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𐚁₊ 𓂃 COWBOY id pack  ( req. )
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┄⠀NAMES⠀;⠀wilde, county, chase, ryder, james, clyde, colt, east(on), hudson, josh(ua), jack(son), luke, maverick, mason, connor, graves, reid/reed, colt, stevie, riley, jesse, john, arthur, billy, cassidy, anderson, prairie, sundance, will, shep(herd), farmer, hunter, will, sawyer, todd, walt(er), wayne, elliot, chance.
┄⠀PRONOUNS⠀;⠀cow/cows/cowself, cattle/cattles/cattleself, boot/boots/bootself, farmer/farmers/farmerself, sheriff/sheriffs/sheriffself, rev(olver)/revolvers/revolverself, shot(gun)/shotguns/shotgunself, wheat/wheats/wheatself, fence/fences/fenceself, jump/jumps/jumpself, iron/irons/ironself, mustang/mustangs/mustangself, hoof/hooves/hooveself, mount(ain)/mount(ain)s/mount(ain)self, steed/steeds/steedself, barrel/barrels/barrelself, wood/woods/woods, pry/prys/pryself, kick/kicks/kickself, hit/hits/hitself, dirt/dirts/dirtself, gra(ss)/grass(es)/grass(e)self, river/rivers/riverself, dive/dives/diveself, ace/aces/aceself, spur/spurs/spurself, star/stars/starself, poker/pokers/pokerself, hill/hills/hillself, clad/clads/cladself, clash/clashes/clash(e)self, shout/shouts/shoutself, denim/denims/denimself, gold/golden/goldenself, hold/holdem/holdemself, fire/fires/fireself, punch/punches/punch(e)self, sun/suns/sunself, drive/drives/driveself, holdem/holdems/holdemself, ranger/rangers/rangerself.
┄⠀GENDERS⠀;⠀westerngenreic, cowboygender, cowboybodiment, sillycowboyic, classicowboywestin, cowboysapphic, cowboycoric, cowboypet, cowboy/girlish.
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© lawslinger.
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hello-there · 8 days ago
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Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!
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sweetbonniebel · 6 months ago
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Jaes's hen jēdar
God's of the sky
five
Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader
Masterlist <-previous , next->
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110 AC King's Landing
You noticed Rhaenyra sitting on her balcony a book in her lap. You smiled and took a seat next to the silver haired girl.
"Rhaenyra" You smiled and the heir snapped her head from the tome.
"Is there something you need?" She asked
"Can't I visit my favourite niece?" You laughed and Rhaenyra chuckled. "I actually came to propose expanding your own court."
The realm's delight raised her eyebrows a curious expression etched on her Valyrian features.
"In what way?"
"As the heir to the iron throne you should build your own court. Invite the daughters of powerful lords to serve as your ladies in waiting or companions. They will secure loyalties of the great houses." You explained
"And who do you propose? I know you already have a list of candidates, their flaws and strengths memorised." She jested and you laughed, it was true your spies have told you everything you need.
"Lord Maths Tyrell has a sister, Elinor Tyrell. Lynara Stark the cousin of Lord Rickon. Your mother's half sister Elys has two daughters perhaps we could invite the three of them I know that they have been quite close as children." Rhaenyra visibly saddened at the mention of her late mother "Borros Baratheon has five daughters I would invite the oldest Cassandra and the youngest Floris, I know you hold disdain towards the Lannisters but they are rich in gold the crown does not posses. Lord Tymond has only one daughter Jocasta she is only nine years of age nonetheless we have to have a ward for the south. The Tullys do not have daughter but we could invite their vassals like house Blackwood, Mallister and Mooton. Lord Veron Greyjoy has twin daughters Lanna and Margot, I think it would be unfair if we separate them" Rhaenyra nodded approvingly.
"And what of the minor houses?" She asked
"I have already sent word to the minor houses with the invite to kings landing, their daughters will serve you and their sons have been offered squire positions of famous knights." You said, the responses have not yet arrived but you knew all of them would be positive. They could not refuse the crown.
"That is good and you know all of these people?" She mused and you nodded.
"Not personally, but whatever my spiders hear I hear." You said and Rhaenyra chuckled. "I shall write to the houses in your steed you will have to seal the letters... Rhaenyra?"
"Yes?"
"I wish to take Aegon with me to Sunspear to be fostered."
"Do you think that Alicent and Otto will agree?" She asked.
"It does not matter if they agree or not. If Viserys agrees the matter is settled."
Rhaenyra nodded playing with the rings on the fingers.
"While on the subject of family I thought that we could pay a visit to the Velaryon's to mend the rift between our two Valyrian houses."
"Rhaenys hates me..." The realms delight whispered.
"She does not hate you, Rhaenys is... conflicted. The realm refused to crown her as heir but she watched as you accomplished what she could not." You liked the dark haired woman, she was strong yet kind. Despite the loss of her inheritance she remained proud and important at court. "Befriending Rhaenys could also provide support from the Baratheons. They posses Valyrian blood and have been our allies since Aegon the Conqueror." 
"Shall we send word to Driftmark to prepare for our arrival?" Rhaenyra asked, a small smile on her lips, you nodded approvingly.
...
The dragon keepers prepared the bronze fury and the golden lady for travel. The two dragons got on exceptionally well, unusual for their species.
"Dohaeragon Vermithor." One of the elder dragon keepers said, y/n noticing the scene interrupted with anger bubbling in her insides. (Serve)
"Zaldrīzoti gaomagon daor dohaeragon" y/n raised her voice, she ran up to her steed dismissing the dragon keepers. Rhaenyra chuckled and mounted her own dragon, Syrax roared happily. (Dragons do not serve.)
"Ivestragī's sōvegon ñuha raqiros" y/n said atop her steed. Vermithor roared and straightened his wings. The bronze fury took off along the golden lady. (Let's fly my friend.)
...
Driftmark is an island in black water bay, the seat of house Velaryon. Next to Drfitmark was Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. The two Valyrian houses always were close.
Vermithor and Syrax flew alongside each other, the endless teal sea stretching under them. A comforting breeze caressed your cheeks, you could smell the salt in the air and see the mountains of Driftmark in the distance.
Banners of a silver seahorse on sea green background stood proudly at the entrance of castle Driftmark. You and Rhaenyra walked confidently towards the gates, your dragons circling the island flying towards Meleys, Seasmoke and Vhagar.
"Cousin!" You said happily walking towards the black haired woman, she smiled slightly hugging your form. "It is so good to see you."
"Princess Rhaenyra." Rhaenys spoke eyeing the girl. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence."
"Princess Rhaenys." Rhaenyra stared "We have come here to offer a truce."
"A truce?" Rhaenys questioned, hiding her curiosity. She invited the two princesses towards the main hall of castle Driftmark. A servant placed pies, cakes and other dishes along with wine.
"We have never been close..." The heir begun "And I'd like to change that. I know that you feel stripped of your inheritance, but you can't change history. I think that we could help each other."
"With what could you possibly help me?" The older woman asked, she glanced at the servants standing near the walls of the chambers. "Leave us." She ordered
"Cousin you see what happens at court." You said, staring into the violet eyes of the Queen who never was. "Our house grows weaker everyday, the Hightowers claim more and more power. We need to unite the blood of old Valyria." Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, sipping her wine.
"How do you propose we do that?"
"I suggest inviting Laena as Rhaenyra's lady in waiting." You proposed, Rhaenys nodded but pressed the matter further.
"And what of my son?" She questioned.
"Perhaps an alliance could be made." Rhaenyra said, you looked curiously at your niece. She has not mentioned any alliance before. "As you know my father intends for my to marry, thankfully he has given me the right to choose my royal consort."
Your eyes widened at Rhaenyra's words, it would make a great political move but her aversion towards marriage prevented that. Now she was proposing an engagement herself?
"Your son Laenor would become my royal consort our children would become Kings, uniting our two houses." The heir spoke.
"I would have to consult with my husband." Rhaenys said, but deep down you knew that they cannot refuse such a match.
"And where is lord Corlys I would like to pay my respects." You asked but Rhaenys sighed.
"He is deeply injured and the maester's said that he should not take any visitors. But I will pass the message." Rhaenys said and left the hall.
...
You watched as Rhaenyra and Laenor walked on the sandy shore of the sea, engaged in conversation. You glanced from the balcony of your chambers. A knock interrupted your observations, you walked towards the doors opening them to reveal Laena.
"Please come in." The silver haired woman walked inside. Her teal dress flowed elegantly behind her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I came to visit you, cousin. We have not seen each other since I was considered as a possible Queen." Laena said and took a seat.
"In retrospect if you had been given the choice now, would you marry Viserys?" You ask Laena shrugged her shoulders.
"If I was given the choice I do not think so." She responded.
"You wouldn't want to be Queen?" You asked curiously.
"Too much responsibilities, I would not be able to ride Vhagar instead I would have to entertain dull ladies. And the realm would except me to constantly squeeze out heirs." You nodded at her reasoning, you knew that some courtiers proposed you as a possible wife to Viserys but he quickly shut down those ideas.
"Then I am happy to say that Rhaenyra would not strip you of your right to bond with your dragon, perhaps we could fly together some time." You proposed and the Velaryon smiled.
"I hope we become friends." She said and you nodded.
"I would like that."
...
Coming back to King's Landing with Laena and her mount Vhagar certainly surprised the small folk as well as the court. The Velaryon and Targaryen walked together engrossed in conversation, you however departed from the two girls. Viserys was easily impressionable, Otto didn't have to try hard to manipulate him. So you needed to be quicker.
"Princess y/n Targaryen, your grace." The kings guards announced opening the heavy doors to Viserys's chambers.
"Your grace." you said bowing slightly. Viserys laughed and ushered you inside. " I come bearing good news."
"I am eager to hear them then." Viserys smiled, continuing to work on his old Valyria sculpture.
"Rhaenyra has proposed to marry Laenor Velaryon." His grace whipped his head in your direction. Surprise etched on his features.
"Really?" He asked.
"Yes, I think it is a good match. The Velaryons are the richest house in the realm, they are the blood of old Valyria and they have three dragons." The king nodded "Rhaenys said she has to consult with Corlys, once the word arrives you should officially bethrode the two."
"I will do so, yes." Viserys muttered
"Were you looking for houses were Aegon and Aemond could be fostered?" You asked changing the topic, Viserys raised an eyebrow curiously.
"I have not no. Why?" He asked.
"I would like to take Aegon with me to be fostered in Dorne." You said
"Marvellous idea sister!" His grace said smiling from ear to ear. "I know how much Aegon loves you. It would do him good."
You wanted to laugh, was Viserys so blind as to not see the rift creating in his household? Alicent and Otto will stew in anger at the news.
Many letters and offering were sent to the great houses, y/n's idea to bring influence over the houses of Westeros. She would do anything in her power to help Rhaenyra. With limited time in the capital she worked tirelessly, writing to many lords and ladies in Rhaenyra's name.
Now over four dozen lord and ladies made their way towards king's landing as members of Rhaenyra's court. The houses were delighted for their daughter to become members at court and their spare sons receiving knighthood's as well as a place in the king's guard.
The Targaryen princess poured the hot bronze wax over the folded parchment and placing her houses sigil and waited for the wax to harden.
The small council meeting was to take place today, the matter of Rhaenyra's engagement and Aegon's fostering would be discussed. You knew that they could not refuse, despite only Viserys knowing that you proposed the idea yourself.
Your maids dressed you in a pink dress made from silk, small gems were embroidered on the shoulders of the gown. The sleeves ended at the elbows and a loose, puffy white fabric covered the rest of the arm.
Ser Lorent Marbrand escorted you to the small council meeting, Rhaenyra was already there as the heir. She sat on the right of her father while Otto sat on the left. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and sat next to her, taking your place as the mistress of whisperers. The rest of the council arrived shortly after, Viserys arrived last.
"Your Grace." The people present bowed and sat as the King allowed it.
"I came to the conclusion that my son Aegon is of age to be fostered." Otto and Alicent widened their eyes as this was news to them. "I want him to be fostered in Dorne, my sister will take care of his upbringing as the ruling Princess of Dorne."
"And what of Prince Aemond?" Lord Lyonel asked.
"He is too young to be fostered but once the council deems him suitable I propose to foster Prince Aemond in Rivererun. Lord Grover has sons close to my nephews age." You answered glancing at Otto as fire burned behind his eyes.
"A great idea Princess." Lyman Beesbury smiled. "The crown was always close with the river lords. ."
"Thank you, my Lord." The master of coin bowed his head.
"As you know my daughter, your future Queen has been searching for a possible prince consort." Viserys began glancing lovingly at his daughter. "Princess Rhaenyra has decided to marry ser Laenor Velaryon."
The small council stared in shock at Rhaenyra, she in turn smugly smiled.
"The bethrodal has not yet been officially announced as Lord Corlys is ill, but Princess Rhaenys has agreed." Rhaenyra added.
"A fine match, your highness." Maester Mellos responded, that grey rat you thought. He is the one responsible for killing Aemma.
"As per my aunts advice I have decided to expand my own court." Rhaenyra announced.
"In what way princess?" Alicent questioned.
"I shall invite the daughters of the realm to serve as my ladies in waiting and companions, I also intend to provide the son's with squire positions."
"Can the crown withstand such a strain?" Otto questioned glancing at the master of coin Lord Beesbury.
"It should be no problem, lord hand. The ladies shall receive a pensions of a five hundred golden dragons as is customary. The princess and I have gone over a list of possible candidates and it amounts to thirty ladies and twenty lords."
"The princess is right, with the increased demand for spices the crown has gained much gold." Lord Lyman advocated.
"Then it is settled." Viserys concluded. "y/n if you could write to the the lords and ladies."
"The letters are waiting to be send."
...
The red keep was a marvellous building it's construction lasted for ten years started by Aegon the first and finished by his second son Maegor. The heels of your shoes clicked against the stone floor, see Duncans armour rattled with every movement. You nodded at the two guards stationed outside the nursery, they opened the heavy doors and you walked in.
Two maids and a septa watched the green children. Aegon played with the wooden soldiers you have gifted him for his seventh name day, Haelaena watched her younger brother Aemond chortle in his crib. When the door opened and the children noticed your presence they smiled and ran towards you hugging your skirts.
"y/n!" Aegon said happily you smiled and kissed the crown of his head doing the same to his siblings.
"I thought that we could go to the dragon pit and visit your hatchling." You proposed and the boys eyes lit up he nodded vigorously, you laughed at his excitement.
"Septa Tesha I shall be taking the prince and princess to the dragon pit." The holy woman nodded "Perhaps you could join us?" You proposed, but you knew she would not agree.
"Thank you princess but I shall stay here and wait for your return." She answered, the woman was Alicent's servant and yet she talked without a care to your spiders.
...
"Elder Jaqos could you bring Sunfyre?" You asked the elder dragon keeper he nodded and ventured deeper into the caves of the dragon pit. You held Helaena in your arms as Aegon gripped your skirts. You smiled as you heard the familiar screeches of Sunfyre. The small he dragon possessed gold scales with pink membranes. It is believed that the dragon hatched from one of dreamfyre's eggs and was the sibling of Caraxes and Meleys.
You watched as Aegon took little steps towards his dragon, the creature also watched curiously. The boy petted his mount and Sunfyre purred happily. You walked over with Helaena, you hummed a Valyrian lullaby and kneeled next to the dragon. Its head turned towards your from, you gently grazed his horns. Sunfyre leaned into your touch.
"y/n how come every dragon likes you?" Aegon asked watching the golden dragon smile.
"I do not know sweet boy." You answered "Why do you think they like me?" The boy raised her faint eyebrows.
"I think it is because you like them. They can sense the respect and love you hold for them." He responded after pondering on the question.
"That is a very smart Egg." You mused and caressed the boy's silver locks.
"Aegon would you like to go with me to Dorne?" You asked to boy, his violet eyes shone brightly and he nodded quickly.
"And what of my sister and brother?" He asked letting Helaena grip his finger.
"They will stay here, Rhaenyra will take great care of them."
...
You watched from the balcony as carriages arrived at the courtyard, the sigils of house Stark, Reed, Bolton of the north the Tullys, Blackwoods, Mallisters and Mootons of the riverlands and Arryns, Royce, Waynwood of the vale waved lightly in the wind. The children of house Tyrell, Redwyne, Tarly and Oakheart of the reach have arrived a few days ago. The Lannisters along with their vassals Banefort, Clegane and Payne have arrived first along with the Baratheons, Dondarrions, Buckler, Errol and Selmy of the storm lands. Now the only house you were waiting for were the Martells.
You watched as Rhaenyra along with Laena exchanged pleasantries with the new arrivals, gifts and thanks were given to the realm's delight. You nodded at your servants to tend to the noble houses and show them their new chambers in Aegonfort. They were instructed to pay close attention to the lords and ladies what they say, how they act, the look in their eyes, everything.
Ser Steffon Darklyn stood behind you as he observed the royal courtyard. You turned towards the knight and whispered in his ear.
"I want your most trusted men to observe the new guests." The knight nodded. Ser Steffon became your sworn shield, a strong and seasoned knight second only to the lord commander of the Kingsguard ser Harrold Westerling. You did not worry for the commander as he held great love for you and Rhaenyra. He was your and your nieces guard for almost ten years. His loyalty was certain. Your sworn shield nodded and followed after you as you descended the stairs standing next to Rhaenyra and her sworn shield Ser Criston Cole.
"My servants are tending to the new guests." You said in high Valyrian bowing your head at every lord and lady that kneeled before the two of you.
"Good, I am rather bored greeting all these people. Did you have to invite so many?" Rhaenyra questioned and you let out a laugh.
"If not me then who?" Rhaenyra chuckled and you did the same, your arms entertained as you greeted the guests.
...
Your maid Annora quietly walked into your solar, you put down your book and raised an eyebrow at the red haired girl.
"What is it?" You asked curiously and pointed to the chair next to you she swiftly took her seat.
"A party with Martell banners has been spotted on the King's Road few leagues away from King's Landing." She whispered and you nodded.
"Thank you Annora, you may leave." The maid nodded and left your chambers.
You sighed, things very hectic with the arrival of the courtiers you had to arrange a wider net of spiders. Accommodating the new guests was also tiring, you wrote down every extra expense and consulted with lord Lyman Beesbury the master of coin. It gave you an idea to find new and more successful ways for the crown to make money. In your investigation you found that most of the lands that belonged to House Targaryen in the crowlands have been unused. The lands were scattered with abandoned mines containing materials like iron, copper, gold and even gems. You could not believe that Viserys has forgotten or ignored such viable land. The smallfolk have been offered work in these mines and soon the crown was making more money than ever before.
The hours passed by quickly and soon came the word that the Martells have arrived in King's Landing. The whole royal family came to greet the prince of Dorne. You were curious of Qoren, the last time you saw him was nine long years ago. Four great black stallions pulled the carriage of the Dornish prince. Their sigil a red sun pierced by a golden spear decorated their orange banners.
Qoren Martell grew to be tall, slender and golden skinned. His face is slender with thin eyebrows, deep brown eyes and a sharp nose. His hair is lustrous and black. A thick and short beard covered his chin. He was the epitome of Dornish beauty. He bowed before the Targaryen's and smiled showing off his white teeth. As soon as he left his carriage his brown eyes met yours. A blush spread on your cheeks, as a small fond smile formed on your lips. Your little interaction was interrupted by Alicent.
"Prince Qoren we thank you for coming such a long way." Alicent spoke breaking the silence.
"The pleasure is all mine your grace." He responded, a small smile appeared on your lips. Daemon and Rhaenyra looked with disdain at the Dornish man.
Pleasantries were exchanged and servants led him to his chambers. One of your maids have instructed him to come to your chambers for supper. Despite being betrothed you wanted to avoid scandal, two of your trusted maids would be present during the ordeal.
You waited for the prince to arrive, dressed in a black and purple dress you sat in the comfortable armchair. Soon a knock interrupted your inner monologue.
"Your royal highness." He approached and bowed his head, you stood up and nodded.
"My prince, please sit down." You offered the seat across from your own. "I hope you will not mind that we are joined by my chaperones." You said cutting the food on your plate.
"Not at all your highness." He answered "I am glad to see you again." Qoren said and a rosy blush decorated his slender features.
"As am I, Qoren... I am very sad for your loss." You added. "From what I've heard your mother was a great person and ruler."
"Thank you, princess. But it was years ago." Qoren added.
"I didn't have the chance to say my condolences in person, I can only imagine how hard it is to loose a mother."
"It was hard, but I suppose time heals all wounds." The prince hummed. "After all you have lost your mother too."
"Oh, I do not remember my mother." A sad smile ghosted over your lips. "Perhaps that made it easier, as I never got to know her. Losing her didn't hurt."
"I'm sorry... no child should grow up without parents." Your betrothed offered his condolences.
"You have changed." You tried to change the moody subject.
"As have you, I never thought you could be even more beautiful and yet you have." He coyly said and a blush reddened your cheeks.
"Such flattery my prince."
"I cannot help it, my betrothed."
"I remember how you used to stumble over your words, now it seems the gods have blessed you with a silver tongue."
"You remember that?" Qoren smiled sheepishly, even though he was a man grown you could still see the boy you once knew shine thorough him. "I had hoped you would have forgotten." He placed his large warm hand on yours, the large sigil ring caused goosebumps on your skin.
"How could I forget, my prince? I remember the time we spent together fondly, as children life was much easier was it not?"
"Yes." Qoren agreed. "I am glad you remember me fondly."
"I do, after all you were the first friend I ever made."
...
You saw Rhaenyra surrounded by her ladies, they chatted, laughed and ate cake. When the time comes you will help your niece find suitable matches for the young ladies.
"Sister" Daemon said sneaking up on you, you gasped surprised.
"Seven hells" You whispered "What is it Daemon?"
"I have come to ask if you were serious?" He accused and you raised an eyebrow.
"Serious about what?" You countered
"That Dornish cunt." You sighed deeply, the last thing on your mind was Daemon's jealousy.
"What about him?" You questioned, Daemons eyes narrowed.
"Why are you marrying him?" He asked anger evident in his tone.
"Why shouldn't I? He's handsome, kind and the prince of a kingdom." You shot back not understanding this sudden outburst.
"You can't marry him." He ordered, a laugh escaped your throat at his child like behaviour.
"Daemon my sweet brother what do you expect I do? I have agreed to the bethrodal in fact I proposed it. Why would should I listen to a desperate plea from a man who inherits nothing, has no real position at court and his only allies are his family." You answered anger boiling in you insides.
"Careful little girl." He said menacingly.
"Or what Daemon? You'll kill me? Be serious, you had opportunities laid at your feet and you snubbed or ruined them." You had enough of him on his high horse.
"We should have wed in the traditions of old Valyria." Daemon said angrily, his silver brows furrowed.
"Maybe in another life we could have... But we don't get what we want simply by wanting." You answered and left Daemon alone.
...
Your insides were boiling, thoughts swarming your mind. You rode to the dragon pit eager to visit your friend. You stomped through the hidden passageway moving with knowing expertise among the many caves and crevices. Vermithor rested comfortably in his den, the burned stone and animal carcasses decorated the stoney cage.
"Vermithor?" You asked walking to the creature's snout, he lazily opened his yellow eye. The dragon screeched and straightened his wing so you could climb upon his back. The bronze fury gilded gracefully through the dragon pit the roars and screeches of other dragons resting in their dens brought you a sense of comfort, the heat from their flames only increased this feeling.
Without saying a word your mount soared to the sky, his mighty wings lifted you leagues into the sky. You smiled the cumbersome thoughts fleeing from your mind as if they were petals blown by the wind.
...
It is said that over one hundred crows have been sent on the eve of the first day of spring. And soon enough over four dozens members of the nobility travelled to king's landing. Many believe that the whole ordeal was singlehandedly arranged by Princess y/n Targaryen. In doing so she gained many wards of the great and minor houses of the seven kingdoms. Some gave her a new alias the good Tyanna of the Tower.- From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.
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datarevived · 5 months ago
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Cont. from ★ w/ @of-golden-guns
Nessus.
It was to be a patrol, safe from her most recent nightmare turmoil, the Taken. A step back in her ventures of stoawaying to the next undetermined destination, & more direct than her most recent voyage to Io with the brash Titan. This one had been advocated by none other than Hawthorne herself, something about scouts collecting data on the Vex and some sort of disclosure revolving around odd readings near the Grave.
However, her recent companion had been tasked with unrelated means near the outskirts of Mars, leaving she to mask with strangers who settled as a pair of three to take front. Both of which wasted no time leaving her between the fog - the sounds of the Vex transmatting in soon to follow.
She was not familiar with the Vex nor their strategies yet. Neither the Cabal, who also accompanied the planet in mass (though she knew not to what degree, as she had yet to make it beyond that of the ample Harpies & Hydras that drained her will at this point). All she knew is that she was quickly losing count to the times of Darkness, that her body was beginning to feel ill even after Data's recovery & that her mental fortitude was on a single thread to regretting choice words towards the Vanguard.
How ironic - that it is among them one she faces now. Recognizing the one from the Hanger instantly - immediate embarrassment & need to depart scratching like the claws that dug into her sleeve. Her breathing picks up in the moment, eyes darting anywhere but the concerned azure optics as she half debates running off.
" I -- "
Voice cracking in deciding tongue, the sudden touch takes her vulnerable focus to merit. A decision made for her, that she cannot back out now. The lump in her throat swelled as if wanting to still retort - but her body moves for her, forward -- following the Exo like a shadowed mutt to the camp.
You're foolish, she hears herself speak in the moments trending. The camp not too far from where she was found, a small light ignited beneath kindled fire & several other Guardians resting nearby. None to which looked at all familiar, but enough so for the time being, she felt... safer, if just a small bit than she did before. Her shoulders slumping in a relief among the pained expression that still wilted her face.
She takes a seat at the furthest available, bringing her half-padded leggings to her chest as she rests her chin upon scuffed knee. Quietly observing the camp with what energy remained, the motions & half-heard conversations; acting in avoidance with the one individual who was going out of their way until fully approached.
Weeks... how long had she been around, exactly?
" M'.. I don't.. " her words remain noncompliant, causing a small light to spark in her steed.
" Two months, almost. Though the first was uh... kept in the City, " the Ghost whirls, blinking in a sympathetic tone. " This past month has been heavily trial and error. But she does not adapt to change very well. "
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channieskies · 9 months ago
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Chapter II: The Heir of New Aeris
Pairing: Prince Hyunjin x Reader (AFAB)
Genre: Historical|Au, Fantasy|Au, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty|Au, Angst, Smut, NSFW tags are under the cut.
Synopsis: The kingdom of Volantis is in disarray; the monarch rules with an iron fist. The times of hope, harmony, and kindness were buried with the queen who passed many years ago. The people are praying for a savior, but who will be their light at the end of this dark tunnel?
Authors Note: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites.
Word Count: 1691 [Reading Time: 7 mins]
Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.
Story Index
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Warnings⚠️: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Mentions of Death (minor character)
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The room had fallen into chaos. Confusion settling into the cracks of each duke's polished demeanor, all but one. “If the next child she bears is a girl, we will have to crown some other next of kin as the heir. Donnius, track down the king's sister and her son.” The rotund man told a servant who quickly skittered off to do as told.
“He would never be fit for king with his.. iniquitous habits. I object to the suggestion.” Another waved off the idea, his nose held high in the air with disgust.
“There is a distant cousin on his mothers side- Never mind that, Her appearance was just deceiving.” The hope quickly disappeared from another man's voice as he examined the royal family's tapestry.
A man sat quietly at the head of the table, watching the spectacle in front of him unfold. Had they forgotten the truth? Forgotten the old kingdom before darkness had fallen over it with the death of their queen? He groaned, stroking his gray lined beard. It was clear he was tired of watching things unfold as they were. 
“Have you truly forgotten how our Queen died?” The men in the room came to a halt as his booming voice filled the space. “She made the sacrifice of giving her life for the heir to this kingdom. Do not forget that. Don't EVER forget that.”
The rotund man cleared his throat before speaking, “No one has seen or heard from the prince in over a decade. Who is to say he's even still… with us, Ermias?” The man called Ermias stood from his seat, towering over everyone in the room.
“He is alive and safe.” He made his way to the door. “I will leave in the morning to retrieve the only option we have. Keep the kingdom and the royal family safe while I am away. If something goes awry, send my daughter on the fastest steed you have.”
“Your daughter?” The man in front of the tapestry laughed. Why would we send a woman when we have plenty of able-bodied, capable men that can do the job?” The other men in the room looked wide eyed at his sudden outburst. One even mouthed “You fool” as the words left his mouth. 
“Because my daughter is one of the most capable and trustworthy people in this kingdom. Because my daughter is more skilled than all of your men combined. So, I trust that my daughter will be informed of any mishaps, correct? Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a trip to prepare for.”
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Ermias was the Duke of State for the Kingdom of Aeris, the newest acquisition of land conquered by King Seojoon. It was named after the king's late wife Aeri, after a war that lasted five years. Ermias was a general in the king's army and after his procurement of the land left him with a limp, he was promised a high position in the government. He worked through the ranks, becoming one of the king's most trusted advisors.
But Ermias hated politics. He considered himself to be more of a doer instead of one that dictated what the doers should do. Commanding an army felt completely different than what it was he did now. But at the behest of his wife and two daughters, he knew resuming his work as the general was not an option. So, he begrudgingly took a seat on the high council, helping to govern over the southern states of the king's land.
The commute home was tedious. His home was far from the castle town of  Volantis and even further from the new Kingdom of Aeris. He lived with his family on a plot of land that was left to his wife, passed down from generation to generation. An apple farm, with the most deliciously sweet fruits hanging from its trees. Their home was modest, just a few stories with a few rooms. The greatest in which was the library, intellect was the thing they held in most regard. The small castle almost swallowed up the vast land that surrounded its pale crape bricks. With an orchard, vineyard, and gardens bordering it, it nearly blended into its surroundings with all of the ivy covering its facade. He truly found his home to be as beautiful and inviting as the women who lived in it.
His long trip home concluded in the wee hours of the morning. He expected no one to be awake, so he was shocked when he found his eldest daughter camped out at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for his arrival. “Father!” She jumped to her feet and into his arms, hugging him tightly. “How was the council meeting?” She moved to help him out his coat and shoes. “Have they all settled on an heir? Are they going to retrieve the prince?” She knew all about the Prince and how he'd been hidden away during the war. Ermias sighed, slipping his shoes off and pulling his daughter with him to his study so that they could talk more privately. 
See, Ermias had a son once, one that was seventeen years his first daughter's senior. Nikolas was the first born to the family. Both he and his wife Semira were very young when he was born. They were newly married when they got the news that they were expecting, but happy nonetheless. He lived to the age of twenty and he died fighting in the war alongside his father Ermias. He vowed that he'd never lose a child like that again. He taught his daughters in the years after how to not only defend themselves, but how to think  defensively and also know when to back down.
He was happy knowing that his girls would never have to fight in a war, especially unprepared. But, if need be, they could protect their home, their mother, and each other. “Sit. I'll tell you all about it.” His walk was heavy, tired from years of war and hard day's of travel. “They presumed the prince was dead. That is if they hadn't forgotten he'd existed entirely.” He shuffled through his desk, looking for something the king had given him many years before. “
“I have a feeling that a few councilors are trying their best to find someone they can control to put in the prince's place, just to amass power. We can't let them have their way, Volantis will fall and the kingdom will be in disarray. We are just recovering from the war, the people cannot suffer through another. I will pack my bags and make the trip to the Isle of Arcta in the mor-”
“No, father.” His daughter shook her head. “Send me and one of your best men. The trip is far too treacherous for you to travel. I know you'd never admit to it, but I know you've been ill these last few weeks. The stress of your job and having to help with some of the king's duties are taking a toll on you. So, I will go in your stead.” Ermias couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. His precious daughter had grown to become a strong and beautiful woman. He found the small pendant that he'd stored away for safe keeping. It was a symbol of how he'd helped the king secure the lands that were now under rule of the throne. One that would be recognized by the maid that kept watch over the prince.
“My darling daughter, my how you've grown.” He stood to his feet, remembering the last time a child of his took on a task this heavy. There was a display on his bookcase of swords he cherished too much to use. One of which was his son's, the one he was clutching as he died on the battlefields. It was one of Ermias’ most prized possessions, something that his father passed on to him and he passed on to his son. Now, he was passing it on to his daughter, along with the king's guard pendant he'd stored away.
Shaky hands grabbed the sheath and hilt of the old sword. He sighed, the metal feeling heavy in his hands with thoughts of the burdens of war, plaguing his mind. “This does not mean I want you to fight. I’m passing you this sword to protect yourself, to protect the prince.” He finally turned around, presenting the great sword to his daughter. The hilt was ornate gold and ivory, while the ricasso had the family's coat of arms; the raven on an apple. 
The rest of the blade had the family's motto written down in latin; “Po familia vivimus et pugnamus.” For family, we live and we fight. Then he placed the necklace around her neck, moving her hair out of the way to fasten it. The pendant sat low on her chest, falling between her breasts, where thankfully it would be hidden. If the wrong people were to see it, it would cause unnecessary trouble for her, and that was something he didn't want.
The sword was something that his daughter was told not to touch when she was a child. After his son lived and died by the sword, he was afraid she would suffer the same fate. The last thing he wanted was to lose his daughter the way that he lost his son. “Wake Minho, tell him to pack for the trip.” Minho was the duke's housecarl, he’d been with the family since boyhood. Ermias found him nearly dead in the woods during the war. 
Bandits found him and his mother, running from the onslaught of war that had overtook their small town. They did unspeakable things to his mother, killing her in the process. They nearly killed him too; beating the child until he was bloody and almost unrecognizable. Because of the trauma of that day, he hasn't uttered a word since. “I’ll prepare your carriage and horses.” He kissed his daughter's forehead, lips lingering there as if this would be the last time he’d ever get the chance to see her again. 
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A.N: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]
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hyperactively-me · 1 year ago
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hey! ok so, what about a fun little jousting tournament and reader is just like, soooo fucking hyped to be there and cheer everyone on??
so cuteee warnings: none
king!ghost x reader -- jousting
As you sit in the royal box, adorned with the regal colors of Kastron, the roar of the crowd and the clash of armor reverberate through the air. Thunderous cheers erupt from the stands as knights take part in the annual jousting tournament. You can’t help but join in on the cheering and whooping, adding your voice to the chorus of excitement. Your eyes dart between the gallant knights charging at each other, their lances gleaming in the sunlight. Simon is set to participate in the tournament, and your heart swells with pride at the sight of him donning his royal armor, a symbol of both his prowess as a soldier and his role as the King. 
You can’t help but get swept up in the fervor of the tournament, being naturally competitive with nine siblings. The spirit of the competition courses through your veins as you watch Simon prepare for his joust. Memories of childhood races, games, and spirited debates with your siblings flood your mind, fueling your already amped up demeanor. You can’t resist the urge to stand and lean over the railing of the royal box, waving your handkerchief in the air and whooping like a cheerleader. 
“Simon! Simon!” you call out, waving your arms frantically to get his attention. 
Simon, caught in the midst of his preparations, looks up to the royal box. A grin spreads across his face as he locks eyes with you, and he gives a curt nod before slipping his skull balaclava up to his nose. He jogs over and stands at the base of the box, looking up at you from the ground. You lean over the edge, your whole torso hanging over the railing. You extend him your lacy handkerchief, the fabric fluttering in the breeze. Simon grins, accepting the handkerchief with a short bow.
“Thank you, love. A token to carry into battle,” he says, his voice carrying over the cheers of the crowd.
“Good luck, handsome,” you smile sweetly, batting your eyes playfully. 
With a wink, he tucks the handkerchief into his armor, securing it as a symbol of your support. The crowd’s excitement intensifies as Simon makes his way back to the tournament field, his strides radiating confidence. Your heart swells with affection, and you turn back to cheering for the other knights jousting. 
A while later, Knight Soap rides up to the edge of the box on his steed, a dark pink rose in his hand. 
“Aye, your majesty, here’s a token of admiration for you,” he chirps, bowing as he extends the rose towards you with a gallant flourish. 
You accept the rose with a gracious smile, acknowledging his sportsmanship. 
“Why, thank you very much, Johnny! A true knight in both skill and courtesy,” you say with a twinkle in your eye. You wave the rose in the air, adding an extra touch of flair to your spirited cheers. 
“Ye’re welcome, your majesty. ‘Tis a pleasure to share the field with such a formidable ruler and a skilled man as King Ghost,” Soap replies with a hearty laugh.
As the tournament progresses, the jousts become more intense, each clash echoing through the arena. Simon emerges victorious in each round, each win causing you to jump from your seat. Your eyes are glued to the field, your heart pounding in rhythm with the thunderous hooves and the cheers of the crowd. The diverse display of skills from the knights, each with their unique style, impresses you beyond belief. 
The anticipation in the air is absolutely electric as the herald announces Simon’s title for the final joust, and the crowd’s cheers reach new heights. 
“Simon! Show them what you’re made of!” you holler, your voice cutting through the clamor. Your competitive spirit flares up once again, leaning over the edge of the box as you shake your fist in the air, eyes fixed on Simon as he rides his horse into the jousting arena.
Simon’s head turns in your direction, now fully concealed with an iron helmet. He salutes you, pumping his lance into the air. You fall back onto the edge of your seat, clutching the rose Johnny gave you, heat creeping into your cheeks. 
Simon charges down the tournament field with the grace of a seasoned knight, his eyes fixed ahead and lance held steady. The clash of lances resounds through the arena as Simon and the knight charge towards each other. The crowd falls into a hushed silence, collectively holding its breath. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch, fingers gripping the railing. The skirmish against his opponent is fierce, the impact resonating through the arena. Simon’s lance strikes true, unseating his opponent. The crowd gasps collectively, and then, as the dust settles, a deafening roar erupts. You leap to your feet, jumping up and down with excitement and pride, rose raised high in celebration. Simon has emerged victorious once again.
“Long live the King! Long live Kastron!” you shout, the fervor of your cheer matched by the exuberance of the crowd. The box becomes a sea of flying handkerchiefs and cheering courtiers, all caught up in the victory. 
Simon dismounts and acknowledges the crowd, pumping his fist in the air in victory. His helmet is lifted, his balaclava still protecting his face. You watch as he swings back up on his horse, galloping towards the royal box. The crowd’s cheers intensify as Simon approaches, victorious and breathless, his eyes revealing the triumphant smile evident beneath the balaclava. You can hardly contain your excitement, adrenaline bubbling within you as he approaches. The rose in your hand, now slightly crumpled from your celebration, awaits its final recipient. 
You lean over the edge of the railing, but Simon was now eye level with him mounted on the horse. He untucks your handkerchief from his armor and extends it towards you.
“I believe this is yours. Thank you for the good luck charm,” he says, his eyes glistening beneath the balaclava.
You laugh, reaching out to gracefully take your handkerchief from him. “It seems to have worked wonders,” you reply, your words laced with affection. 
You take the rose out, holding it out in front of you towards him. “This is for you, my dear husband.” 
Simon’s eyes light up as he takes the rose from your hands, a soft smile playing on his lips. "A beautiful token from a beautiful queen. Thank you,” he says graciously, tucking the rose into the front of his armor. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his covered cheek. The crowd, still in the throes of celebration, cheers even louder at the display of affection between their king and queen.
You turn to face the crowd, grabbing Simon’s armored wrist and raising it in the air. 
“Behold our champion, King Ghost! Long live the King of Kastron!” you declare, your voice carrying over the crowd. The people erupt into cheers, and Simon bows in acknowledgment.
As the cheers of the crowd surround you, he leans in to whisper in your ear, his voice barely audible over the noise.
“What d’you think about going back to the castle to celebrate?” Simon questions, his suggestive tone sending shivers down your spine. 
A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you meet Simon’s gaze. 
“What a wonderful idea,” you respond, your voice carrying a playful undertone. “Have to reward you properly, don’t I?” 
With that, you and Simon make your way back to the castle, hand in hand. The celebrations continue deep into the night, and the castle’s grand halls echo with the sounds of revelry from jubilant citizens and courtiers.
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(masterlist)
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hello-there · 8 days ago
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