#the success;guest muse

[kamiversee]

Not So Innocent ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Your boyfriend Choso was always a freak but, your newly wedded husband Choso is ten times worse.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, heavy dirty talk, language, spitting, manhandling, praise, degrading, rough sex, overstim, slight cum play, filth, etc

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Choso Kamo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 3.1k

——CHOSO'S SO SWEET. Often did you hear such words during your wedding. Your friends, family-, everyone called Choso sweet and simply perfect for you.

The way his eyes lingered on yours for moments far longer than needed, how he'd find any moment to caress your hand, trace small shapes into your palm or your shoulder when he could-- he was such an attentive man. People praised him all day long for how he acted around you.

Even when you weren't around and Choso talked to the guests about you, people commented that he had such a beautiful way of describing you, how he'd explain that you were his muse and all his success in the world of art stems from you.

Choso felt like without meeting you, he may have never gotten as far in life as he did. It took roughly five years or so of dating for you to even be ready for marriage. And for a long time, Choso didn't know what it was you were so afraid of but he still waited patiently until you started to hint that you were ready.

Through those years of dating, you eventually got the whole truth from Gojo, whom you hardly think much about now but, after getting the truth-- you think that's the day you ran to Choso and started throwing out hints of marriage. Perhaps that's what'd been holding you back for so long, not knowing why things happened the way they did in college.

Hell, even after you found everything out, it took some time for you to really wrap your head around things. Part of your heart, this really small part, still longed for Gojo and for that, you felt like shit for months.

Up until you eventually poured the truth out to Choso one day. The whole truth. Every detail of the list, how it started, how it ended-, everything. Choso had responded to you saying that what you told him explained a few things...

Even so, lots had changed over the course of five years. The truth was out and you were completely free from confusion. Not only that but, not too long after Gojo confessed every detail of his truth, Sukuna released his custody over Yuji. So, of course, you and Choso were at an all-time peak of happiness.

Hence why you date the day of your wedding as the happiest day of your life. You recall every moment, every laugh, every happy tear that was shed-, everything. It was such a beautiful and peaceful day.

And Choso was so sweet— too bad that only lasted until the sunset and the two of you were off to your honeymoon destination.

Okay well, he was still sweet for that day since the two of you were a bit too tired to do much after a draining flight to where you are now. As for the next day, the first day of your honeymoon... well, Choso was...

“C’mere baby,” His deep voice, husked with hours of sleep that'd just barely faded off, filled the air of the room you were in.

Soft sunlight peeping in through the curtains, even softer sheets surrounding the two of you, clothes messily scattered to the floor-- he may not have gotten to you on the night of your wedding due to sheer exhaustion but the next morning? Oh, you couldn't get a second away from him.

You've dated Choso long enough to know that sometimes he just wakes up hard, his cock poking at your ass as you'd shift around in your sleep. It was a natural occurrence you'd gotten used to. Sometimes you both ignored it and sometimes it was taken care of immediately.

But when you just got married to this man less than twenty-four hours ago, there was no way for you to have expected him to just ignore his morning wood. Especially not when Choso's been on cloud nine ever since he saw you stroll down that aisle looking just as beautiful as the first day the two of you ran into each other.

A heavy groan pours out of your husband's mouth whilst his hands run along your body, fingertips dancing against your supple skin before he finds his rightful hold on your hips.

Cheek down against the mattress, back arched sensually, and ass up in the air-- the sudden snap of Choso's hips against your ass rips a moan from your mouth, one of many that's already left you within the past hour or so.

You'd married such a sweet man but in bed, he was an entirely different person, hence why your fingers are curling into the sheets and you're attempting to pull yourself away from him for only a second. Only to earn a grunt from Choso who tugs your hips back to him, “Don’t fuckin' runnn baby,” He sighs, a lazy smile spread across his face at the sight.

You've got a bit of drool slipping down your face, Choso's fingers are stopping you from moving too much and all you can do is take it. "M-Mmgh..." Your eyes began to water a bit as his thick cock drilled into your hole relentlessly, "C-Cho, hahh, you're s-so-"

"Big?" He finishes for you, earning a squeeze from your cunt in response. The sudden tightness makes his brows push together as he tosses his head back, "Yeah baby, you've been tellin' me that for years," He teases, "M'not gettin' any smaller, sorry princess."

His tip was so fat and angry against your insides, leaving you utter mush beneath him with how hard he was fucking his cock into you. "C-Can't stand you-, fuck." You gasp as he lands a hand onto your ass, gripping at the fat and chuckling at your words.

Then he's leaning forward a bit and angling his hips differently, drilling deeper inside you before grunting out a low, "Yeah but you can cum f'me again," Choso comments tauntingly with a smirk on his face.

One of his hands starts to travel to your back, pressing you down into the mattress before he lifts a leg a places his foot onto the bed for better leverage. If you weren't clawing at the sheets before, you damn sure are now as his throbbing cock bottoms you out.

Your jaw went slack and you were tearing up, "Ah, mgh, oh... oh fuck, Choso..." You moan, trying to collect yourself and not get too caught up in how good he was fucking you.

But how could you not? Choso was fucking you deep and hard, grunting and groaning without a care in the world while trying to hold out on painting your insides white too soon.

Then there's the way your pussy narrows around his shaft, letting him know you were close again, "See? There you go-," Choso loses his words for a moment as you start moving your hips backward to meet his thrust. You'd caught him completely off guard and it makes him choke, "Y-Yeahhh, fuck yourself on me, jus’ like that," He moans.

Choso leans up a bit just to watch you, eyes glued down on your pussy lewdly taking his cock over and over again. The sight makes him smile, as always.

"Shiit baby, you've got such a pretty fuckin' pussy," Choso praises as he tilts his head, jaw-dropping a bit at how you part your legs a bit more and arches your back further, "Fuck, princess-, fuuck... so fuckin' pretty," He stammers a bit while he continues to praise you, losing himself in the way you continuously bring yourself back on him.

His cock thrust in to match your movements, both of you fucking each other in sync. Oh how you drove Choso to the brink of insanity-- he was moving to spit down on his cock just before it disappeared inside you without a second thought, watching his saliva mix with the slick from your cunt and releasing another moan afterward.

Then Choso brings his hand to your ass again, "Baby, I complimented you, didn't I?"

You just nod stupidly, not thinking twice about what he's hinting toward, "Mmhhmm-," Choso snaps his hips forward again, pelvis clashing into you and making you whine, "F-Fuck."

Cocking his head to the side, Choso starts picking up his pace again, "What're you supposed t'say when you get compliments, huh?" He asks, tone rough with you.

His swollen cock rutted into your cervix, leading your legs to quake and your breath to escape you, "Choso-,"

"No pretty, c'monnn," He cuts off on purpose, "Where's those manners of yours, hm? Have I been too nice to you lately?" Voice dipping down into something a bit sweeter with you, your stomach churns before he's stretching you open all over again.

"Fuck... Fuck-," You gasp and your eyes squeeze shut before you're panting, "T-Thank you Cho..."

That earns a sexy smile from your husband, "There ya' go, suuch a good fuckin' girl f'me. Smart woman I've married, sayin' thank you after gettin' praised. Y'like it when I tell you how pretty y'are, hm?"

Blindly nodding into the bed, "Uhuh..." Is the most you can babble out.

And of course the sound makes Choso smile. He loves getting you to the point where you can hardly speak. Which is exactly why he’s smiling as he hums to you, "Speak up baby." Just as those words leave his lips, his cock is turning your cunt to mush, leaving you nothing more than a mindless hole beneath him.

Panting and clawing at the mattress, tears slip down your cheeks and your words come out jumbled and whiney, "Yes, Choso-, hhgnn… y-yes."

Choso puts on a pout to mock you before he scoffs and reaches a hand down to your hair, "C'mere, look at me,” He utters surprisingly softly before tugging you up by your hair so he can get a decent look at your face.

He forced your head to angle toward him and you swear he’s fucking you harder than he was before. Your pussy was sloshing all over his thick shaft, leaving where you were connected and slipping down along both of your thighs— you were a wet mess but Choso seemed to love you like that.

"Hi baby,” Your husband whispers, his eyes hanging low as he gazes into yours. Then he pouts at you again, “Aww, you cryin'? Feels that good, huh?" Choso teases. He watches the way your brows furrow and decides to go even further, bringing his free hand around your body and moving two fingers down to your clit.

Your body jumps within his hold once he starts rubbing over your clit, a strangled moan pouring out of your mouth, “C-Choso-, hahhh… fuck-,”

He just smirks, "Does it feel good when I touch you like this too?" He asks gently, as if he can’t see the clear effect his touch has on you.

You couldn’t even answer him verbally just yet— quiet mhm’s leaving your throat was the most you could manage. Your hand went over his and your nails were scratching against his arms, legs trying to draw together and your body nearly falling forward.

"Hm? I can't hear you princess,” Choso has the nerve to taunt you, “C’mon, jus' talk t'me. Tell me what you want me t'do," He instructs before pulling your body back against his.

Your mouth simply hangs open and his fingers won’t stop toying with your clit, his heavy cock resting inside you and leaving you full and lightheaded with pleasure, “…Mmh, k-keep-, nngh, g-go- oh, fuck, fuck… keep goin’ Cho… hahh, don’t stop, don’t fuckin’ stop…”

His cock aches inside you at the sound of your small whimpers in between words and your twisted-up face. Smiling, "Keep goin’, huh? You close?" Choso’s voice is sudden in your ear and you just moan into the air. “Gonna make a mess on me? Hahhh, fuck I guess I married a slut too, huh?”

You manage to meet his eyes and Choso swears he’s never seen you with an expression this lewd before. Well, he definitely has but, it still amazes him every time.

His brows push together and he groans, "I mean, look at that face-, shit,” Choso gasps. Just looking at you with a completely fucked out expression almost made him fold, “So fuckin' perfect. My perfect wife."

Your lower lip pokes out and you whine, “C-Cho…”

“Mhm, y’know you’re mine right?” He coos, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck. You huff out a sigh in response and he starts talking against your skin, “Yeahhh, my wife. My lil’ slut to ruin whenever the fuck I want, right?”

His voice grew rough all of a sudden and he started moving you around again, placing a hand to your back and forcing you back down to the bed. Then both of his hands were on your back, pressing into your arch before his hips picked up in pace.

The veins decorating his cock rubbing against your walls, cockhead digging deep inside you and making you gasp all over again.

Then there’s his voice, “Y’like that Mrs. Kamo?”

Oh you practically lose yourself right then and there— a slick mess of cum coating his dick due to one simple phrase. Choso scoffs loudly at the sight and the feeling of your pussy squeezing him like crazy.

“S-Shit, y’like your new last name, huh?” Choso huffs, sounding a bit more breathless than he did just moments ago.

“M-Mhmm, ah… mmgh-, fuck,” You bite your bottom lip for a second to get yourself together before uttering a sweet, “I love it Cho…”

He really starts to lose himself after that, mindlessly pounding into you with his jaw-dropping a bit. Choso doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. You were his. His wife.

Fuck he was seconds from emptying himself inside of you— hell, maybe he should. Fuck you nice and full of his cum… It’s been a while since you’ve let him do so after all.

“Baby,” Choso grunts, heavy pants leaving his wet lips, “F-Fuck, m’gonna cum…” He suddenly heaves out.

So lost in the thought of cumming inside you, Choso hardly realizes how he’s drilling into you right now— the bed had begun to shake and your body was dipping down into the mattress, his cock twitching wildly inside you as it ached for release and heavy balls slapping against you with his every thrust.

The fabric below you is wet from your drool and you could hardly even whisper his name out, the sound leaving in a light squeak, “Choso.”

“Uhuh,” Choso responds mindlessly before he moans, “M-Mhmm, fuck… lemme cum inside you, princess.” He finally manages to blurt out his thoughts and it catches you off guard.

Followed by that is Choso moving a hand under you and rubbing his fingers over your clit yet again— tugging a cry from your throat, “S-Shit-, hahhh,” Your body was practically folding in on itself but his other hand remained firm on your back, keeping you in position, “Choso, fuck, Cho… mmmh-“

“Please?” He whines, “Fuck-, fuuck… baby… I need to,” Choso’s quick to beg you as he’s desperate for his release, “Needa’ stuff this pretty pussy full of me,” He babbles out before throwing his head back and groaning, “Fuuck, I wanna see it drippin’ outta’ you when I’m done. ‘Nd then stuff it right back in, make it nice and sloppy.”

His words had you cumming again before you finally agreed, nodding desperately against the bed, “Okay, mgh, okay, fuck,” You whisper.

His thrusts grow sharper and his body weighs into you a bit, “Okay, what?” Choso grunts lowly.

Just barely, you angle your head back as best you could to look at him and flash the smallest fucked out smile you could manage, “Cum inside me, Cho.”

His reaction is priceless, seed spilling into your pussy seconds after those words hit his ears— or maybe it was the way you’d looked at him, either way, he was fucking his cum into you within seconds.

Babbling as he ruts into you with mindless, almost animalistic-like thrusts, “Fuckin’ love you-, holy shit, I love you,” Is the only thing Choso could repeat as his cum spurted into you, the sound of slick growing louder and messier as he never once slowed the pace of his thrusts.

And he’s just thrusting in and out and in and out over and over again, watching that messy white ring form at his base and letting out a long groan at the sight.

“F-Fuck, say it back pretty, tell me you love me,” He huffs impatiently.

Sure, Choso knows you love him and he can clearly see how difficult speaking is for you but he didn’t care, he needed to hear it back from you anyway.

“Love you, Cho,” You whimper, “Mmmh… I love you s-so much.”

And then he’s fucking you through those very words, his body leaning over yours at this point and a moan of your name leaving his lips— followed by the faintest whimper.

When he finally calms himself, he’s pulling out with small whines escaping him. His face was flushed and he couldn’t stop panting.

Then he was moving a thumb to your sensitive folds, spreading your cunt apart to watch his cum trickle out and angling the tip of his cock against your hole just to watch his cum drip out of you and down onto his skin.

It was messy, nasty even, but didn’t care one bit. A smile was etched onto his face as he did so and you just laid there completely still for a while.

Choso was behind you toying with the mess below, enjoying himself a little too much, “Can’t get enough of this pussy, y’know…”

You scoff, “Choso…”

“I’m jus’ sayin',” He hums before tilting his head, smiling growing, “She’s so messy, I fuckin’ love her.”

You roll your eyes at the man, “Cho… please stop talkin’ about my pussy like it’s a p-person…”

“Shhh baby, I’m trying to listen t’her,” He says, completely disregarding your words as he continues to just rub his tip in between your folds. “Nasty fuckin’ girl. Y'Made such a big mess,” Choso coos. Then he shrugs and you feel him start pressing his tip into you, “S’okay though, you’ll make another one f’me, right?”

You send your husband a look, “Choso.”

“Shhh princess, don’t be rude,” He hums, smiling to himself as he doesn’t even attempt to look away from your cunt, “I haven’t even made my pretty girl squirt yet,” He comments before his smile widens, “Good thing I’ve got all day t’do so.”

Yeah, you definitely weren’t getting any more rest…

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[nebulaafterdark]

Hii can you please write something where the reader (could be Rhaenyra daughter) walks in on Aegon and something like this happens

https://www.tumblr.com/barbieaemond/746483713191362560/tom-glynn-carney-as-gaius-julius-caesar-octavianus

Love your work❤️

Thank you! Ok this is just a quick one, but here we go 🩷

A Reward

18+ ONLY MDNI (Targcest, smut, open marriage)

Y/N sets off in search of her husband after finding her apartments empty and the children well tended by their maids. She happens upon her husband in his bedchamber, sprawled across the mattress.

Aegon’s eyes snap up to meet hers, cock twitching as he does, fingers still lost in Chérie’s hair. He grins at his wife, dangerously close to spilling down the other woman’s throat. “Hello, my dearest love.”

Y/N smiles, “hello, husband.” She moves closer to the bed, smoothing a hand over Chérie’s dark waves and leaning forward to whisper, “do not stop.”

Chérie hums in acknowledgment, pulling away from Aegon’s weeping cock for only a moment to greet the princess with a gentle kiss. “Anything for you, Princess.”

Y/N sighs against her mouth. “Thank you, darling girl.”

Aegon lets out a groan as Chérie resumes. “What is it you’re doing down there? Plotting?”

Y/N makes her way up to him, cupping his face in her hands, “you will know soon enough, my love.”

Aegon’s chest rises and falls in quick succession, pulling her down to meet his kiss as he nears his peak, shooting his seed over Chérie’s tongue.

She swallows all he gives her, sucking him dry with cruel pulls of her mouth.

Aegon begins to protest.

“Shh,” Y/N coos, taking his restless hands in hers, pinning them to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I cannot again,” Aegon whimpers, “not so quickly.”

Chérie runs her tongue along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Fuck!” He squeezes his wife’s fingers, helplessly as Chérie cups his stones, rolling them in her practiced hand.

Y/N presses a kiss to his furrowed brow, tears welling at the corner of his eyes.

“My love,” Aegon jerks in her hold.

Y/N breathes, “I want her to bring you pleasure as I watch.”

“Mayhaps in a moment,” he feels his softened cock begin to rise again.

The princess shakes her head, “now.”

“Seven hells,” he releases a panic laugh.

“I see the appeal of this now,” Y/N runs her nose along the length of his. “You are very pretty when you cry.”

“I wish you could see yourself, teary eyed on my cock. Absolutely sinful, you are. A wonder to behold.” Aegon winces as Chérie fists the base of his cock.

Y/N shifts, holding both his hands in one of hers to run greedy fingers over the expanse of his chest. Her nails graze his nipple, causing Aegon to buck against Chérie’s mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you more. I love you most, I love you always.” He babbles, chasing her lips, each time she dares pull away.

Chérie has been a guest in their bed too many a time to think herself an intruder, but in moments such as these, she is grateful for the reassuring pass of the Princess’s hand over her hair.

“Once you come undone, I will grant you reprieve as I reward our girl for indulging us.” Y/N promises her husband.

Aegon nods, blinking up at her. “You will be with child before this night ends.” A threat and a promise.

“Not much of a punishment for torturing you as I have.” Y/N muses.

“Not a punishment,” Aegon bites out, nearing the edge of bliss. “A reward.”

[divinityunleashed]

"Urrgh... Fine."

"But only because I tolerate your antics, and have an ample station for training."

"Vegetaaaaa~ Do it for meeeeee~?"

"Why shouldn't I want to show off my strong and handsome husband~?"

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (?)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you, now a successful singer, and sanji, now a pirate, reunite unexpectedly when you return to baratie for a one night only performance.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!sanji x fem!singer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use Y/N, zeff is a meddler, mild angst

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

When Sanji woke up that morning, he hadn’t expected a song would be the one to bruise his ego.

It was a relatively normal morning, filled with shuffling around the Going Merry with a pen and pad asking for special grocery requests. It was the usual, for the most part; Zoro wanted alcohol, Luffy asked for lamb, Nami needed brown sugar for something she wanted to make, and Usopp requested chocolate chips. 

All a routine order to convince Zeff to hand over, Sanji mused, flipping shut his notepad as the Merry docked at Baratie. Another supply run was nothing out of the ordinary. They’d be out by the next morning if he had any say in it. 

Then he saw the mischievous glint in Zeff’s eyes, and suddenly, Sanji was nervous.

“What?” He tried to laugh it off. When all Zeff did was clap a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, the Strawhat cook’s curiosity turned to panic. “Zeff, you’ve got that look. What is it?”

Zeff shrugged and led the way further into the kitchen. It was early in the morning, breakfast being prepared as the two spoke. “Ah, nothin’.” He smirked to himself. “I’m just debating whether I should tell you, or let you find out.”

Sanji blinked, now very, very concerned for his own wellbeing. “You should definitely tell me.”

The old man let out a laugh and completely ruined Sanji’s day with just two simple words: “She’s back.”

There was no need for elaboration; Sanji knew exactly who she was. His heart dropped and all color drained from his face, jaw effectively slack. The sight had Zeff’s chest hurting with how hard he laughed.

“I—Why in the seven hells would she be comin’ here, Zeff?” Sanji clawed at his hair, sitting back against a counter and stumbling for his senses. “Last I checked she wanted nothing to do with this place.”

Zeff tutted. “Last I checked she wanted nothing to do with you, little eggplant. She left Baratie with nothing but fond memories of me.”

“That’s—!” Sanji faltered, lips pursed. “That’s fair, actually.”

“Just thought I’d warn you,” sadi Zeff as he moved to shoo a younger cook away from some vegetables and started to chop them himself. Sanji took his place beside him and found himself a knife, mincing some carrots to speed the process along.

Zeff smiled warmly. “She offered to come sing for the guests. I wasn’t about to turn her away. I raised you both. It’s natural I miss her. Then you said your crew needed more supplies the same week she’s here, and well… Would it be wrong to admit this is turning out really well for me?”

“No,” Sanji snapped back. His neck ached and his shoulders were tense, but he just kept on chopping away with practiced ease. “How in hell is any of this good?”

“You two used to be fine as friends,” Zeff reasoned. “It’s only when ya’ tried bein’ more that things went south.”

Sanji didn’t need Zeff to remind him that he’d completely, utterly, definitely screwed up any chance of being at least friends with you again. He knew that. He’d accepted it long ago. It didn’t mean Sanji was any less heartbroken about it.

“Relax,” said Zeff after he had enough of the suffocating silence. “She’s over you. You’re over her.” He finished up the vegetables and called back over the nervous little cook. “I’m sure you know her career took off. She came back to sing for Baratie before her tour ‘round the seas.”

He clapped Sanji on his shoulder and shook him a bit. “One night only. It’s sure to be great.”

Sure, except everything that Zeff had just said was entirely wrong. Sanji was in no way over you.

And Lord knew you weren’t over him either.

Across the sea-top restaurant was you, face pale, eyes wide and glaring daggers into Patty and Carne. The pair stood exchanging worried glances as you sputtered out words they could hardly understand.

“Bastards!” That they could gather. “Why didn’t Zeff tell me Sanji would be here? The only reason I accepted the invitation was because I knew Sanji was off playing pirates.” You tugged at your hair. “Or he’s supposed to be.”

“Don’t look at us!” Patty said, hands raised in surrender. The burly man offered a consoling smile. “Zeff didn’t know.”

You pointed a finger at him, a wild look in your eyes. “So you think! So you think! I bet he arranged this whole thing behind our backs!”

You knew you sounded crazy. Hell, you felt erratic at this point. Seeing Sanji was not something you were mentally prepared for just yet. You rubbed at your temples. “God, I haven’t seen him since I left.”

“It’ll be fine,” Carne siad, his hands settling on your shoulders and giving you a little shake. “Just fine.”

Patty nodded and caught sight of your agent peering around the corner she was eavesdropping from, tapping her watch with a pointed look on her face. Patty mimed rushed assurances and turned back to you. “I doubt he’ll even have the nerve to show up. Not after everything.”

You wiped a stressed tear from your eyes. “You think?”

Patty started to guide you down the hall toward the room your panicky agent was now awaiting in. “Yep. He’s a wimp like that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, slowly nodding your head. “He won’t even show up. I’ll go out there, do my set, talk to Zeff again, and book it outta here.”

Your steps were more confident as you headed for your room. Carne rolled his eyes at you, in a fond kind of way of course. “Atta girl.”

You pumped a fist as you disappeared around the corner, and the two men could breathe easy now that they were free of your scathing eyes.

જ⁀➴

Ever since you and Sanji first met, it’d been complicated.

Zeff didn’t believe in letting women work in his restaurant. He knew what type of guest his establishment attracted; from the sleazy rich to the sketchy pirates, Zeff didn’t believe it was necessarily safe for women to work there. 

But then there was you, some scrappy ten year-old from the docks of some port he couldn't recall the name of.

You’d been playing a guitar far too big for you, an upturned hat before you. Zeff was bartering for a fair price on some radishes not too far away. He caught the tailend of a song as you finished, the only word to describe the sound being angelic. But Zeff didn’t have time to listen to street urchins play guitar. 

Hours passed and he was back in Baratie's kitchen, sitting at the table eating some soup he’d prepared the day before. All was well and all was quiet. The ship was back at sea. The storage was fully stocked. The little eggplant was out of the way for once. He had a moment to breathe.

“AGH–AAAAH! ZEEEEFF!”

A moment short lived, and he was back to adolescent induced suffocation. The old man’s brows pinched, a migraine on the horizon. Maybe if he ignored it…

The kitchen doors swung open to reveal none other than the eggplant—Sanji’s face was all red, his hair a mess, and he was dragging a girl behind him with a fist in her hair.

Zeff jumped to his feet, this being the last thing he expected when he heard Sanji’s whistle note scream. “Sanji—!”

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” The girl—you—offered a swift kick to Sanji’s groin. You massaged at your scalp while the boy keeled and flopped over in agony. “Bitch, you ripped out some of my hair!”

Sanji groaned, practically writhing. Zeff nearly felt bad, until he recognized you. “You’re the kid from the docks!”

Before you could offer your quippy reply, Sanji had sent a kick to your shin that had you joining him on the ground. Idiots, the both of you.

Zeff had meant to kick you off when they docked at a port the next month… but, well, you had nowhere to go, and he’d grown used to how you and Sanji bickered back and forth so seamlessly. 

(He’d known before anyone else that you and Sanji had something special, even if the pair of you were too stubborn to admit it.)

Zeff didn’t think he’d ever make an exception to his rules, but then there was you, and there wasn’t much use in saying no to you. 

It started as being a hostess, guiding guests to their tables, and then it was bussing tables. You even tried your hand in the kitchen and were swiftly kicked out after the first fire scare. Then, you’d asked to sing, and Zeff had no objections. 

But even as he grew to think of you as part of his odd excuse for a family, itt was obvious to him that you had no wish to dedicate your life to the restaurant. 

You’d had to abandon your guitar when you stowed away on Baratie, but your voice had no hindering. He heard you when you thought no one else cared to listen—Sanji did too, and Zeff always thought the eggplant realized he loved you the first time he heard you sing.

Sanji wouldn’t try to disagree. He knew there was a point in the timeline of him knowing you where his annoyance at your existence turned into a kind of reverence he had no power to stop. He swore you were a siren, sent from the depths to torment his every waking moment. 

As he grew older his affections only grew worse and worse, until he couldn’t help but kiss you—his very first mistake.

Sanji knew he was far from perfect, and he was far from ever deserving such a sweet love as the one you offered, but God, how he tried.

He failed, always, and that was a torture he tried not to dwell on.

Every time he fell for you, you seemed to fall harder, and he was never good at keeping up. You had dreams and so did he, and as the years drew on, it just… didn’t work, and the on-again-off-again romance was draining you both of any chance for fixing what was left of your friendship.

He tried to blame it on wrong place and wrong time, because he hoped it wasn’t simply wrong person. Sanji promised himself he would keep trying to be good for you until the day he died—but he kept failing. He kept disappointing you, breaking things off only to start them up again, he kept charming other women right in front of you.

Nobody’s perfect, but he could’ve at least tried a little harder.

Then came the day you’d left, finally having enough of his indecision and going out to fulfill all your dreams… With barely a goodbye to him. You’d left a note, of course, but it was short and cold and heartbreaking: “Dear Sanji, don’t miss me. Sincerely, Y/N.”

Sincerely. How was he ever supposed to recover from that?

As far as Sanji knew, you were doing well. There were posters and radio announcements about you, this up and coming star with the voice of an angel. 

And now to the present, where he stood taking a smoke outside the Baratie’s entrance. The moon was high and the stars peaked out from the clouds. The long trail of guests filing into the restaurant for dinner was thinning. 

Sanji took a drag and imagined you, in your room having last minute jitters before heading out to sing. 

“Sanji?” It was Nami, stepping out into the chill night air, concern written all over her face. “You coming?”

His pause was a bit too long, and Nami tried again, “You don’t have to…”

“I…” He wanted to. God, how he wanted to hear you sing again. “I think I’ll stay out here.”

She stood there a moment longer like she wanted to argue, to snap some sense into him and get him to at least try to speak to you. There was so much history, after all, even if Nami didn’t know the half of it. But she went back inside with a hefty sigh, leaving Sanji alone with his tendrils of smoke and wallowing self-pity.

જ⁀➴

Your agent, Flora, was messing with your curls, pulling them over your shoulders as you tapped your thumb on the wood of the guitar hung around your shoulders. 

“Now,” she fussed. “There’s a platform set up at the center of the room. I tested the acoustics at dawn before anybody else could get inside and it's perfect. Just right.”

Her little smile faded when she caught your eye. “Hun, what’s wrong?” She raised a brow. “Is this about that boy?”

You tried to evade the conversation with a roll of your eyes. “Flora…”

“Because I wasn’t going to tell you this,” said Flora. “But he’s been wandering around all day trying to catch a glimpse of you. Ran away every time I caught him. Had to get that Zoro guy to get him to knock it off.”

You aren’t sure why you felt surprised. You yourself had been wandering Baratie hoping you’d catch sight of that familiar mop of blond, but alas. “Do you… think he’ll show up?”

Flora took your hand. “Do you want him to?”

“No.” Yes. You wanted to see him. You wanted to know if he was doing better, if he was better, if all the bad of the past had shaped him into the Sanji you knew he could be.

“Then go out there and sing.” She had an aura of comfort and calm you often envied. “You know what song’s first, right?”

You thought of the setlist your drummer had brought to you that morning and felt your stomach drop. “Flora, I can’t sing that song to him—”

“You’re not singing it to him,” she cut in, starting to lead you out of the little room and down the hall to the grand staircase leading into the dining room. “You’re singing for all those people waiting to hear the songbird incarnate, Y/N L/N.”

You grinned tightly. “No pressure.”

Descending the stairs was the easy part. People clapped as you glided down as light as a feather, guitar around you and a light shining down from somewhere. True to Flora’s word a round platform awaited at the center of the dining room. It was small, but you had a bit of moving room. You accepted the hand of your drummer and stood up on the platform, shooting him a smile as he went back up the stairs to where the rest of your small band was ready to play. 

You turned and suddenly there was a microphone to your right. Had that always been there? 

“Hello, Baratie!” The applause met you at full force, easing some of your tension. Sanji was nowhere to be seen, and you weren’t sure if you liked that. “Look at your beautiful faces tonight. Oh, and there’s Chef Zeff too!”

That got you a couple of laughs before it died down again. “I’m so happy to be back here. Baratie was a home of mine once, and it’ll always have a place in my heart.” Your hand brushed your guitar strings and sent an unpleasant sound into the mic. “All right, enough sappiness. You all want some music, right?”

You cast a glance up at your band, felt a rush of familiarity, and nodded. A steady beat began and you began to strum a practiced tune on your guitar, the callousess on your fingers straining under the pressure. 

“I remember when we broke up—the first time. Saying ‘This is it, I’ve had enough, ‘cause like…’”

“This isn’t working out,” he said, not a pinch of the light you'd come to love in his eyes. He looked cold and unkind, but the frown he was giving you betrayed his own heartbreak.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re… better as friends. I just need some space to think.”

“What? Then you come around again and say, ‘Baby, I miss you and I swear I’m gonna change, trust me…’”

He chased you relentlessly until his hand caught your wrist and spun you around. All his words fell short at the sight of your tears. “Y/N…”

“You said it would be different,” you reminded him. Bitterness flooded your senses. “What was her name? Did you even catch it before you unzipped her dress?”

Anger boiled in his eyes. “I didn’t—I just kissed her!”

“Just,” you laughed mirthlessly, shaking your head as you ripped yourself from his presence and stormed away.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t, Sanji!”

“I’ll do better! I promise.”

“Remember how that lasted for a day? I say I hate you, we break, you call me, I love you.”

You tried not to search for familiar faces in the crowd, instead shutting your eyes and letting the music take over, and not the lyrics.

But you were a weak woman, and your eyes pried themselves free to scan the room.

It was dark around the dining room, and the lights Flora had managed to set up were blinding, but there he was. Sanji was by the door to the lower decks, his icy eyes bearing into you with such an intensity you stumbled over your guitar strings. You picked the melody back up before it was too noticeable, but he was smirking, that son of a bitch. 

Sanji noticed. He always noticed everything about you, annoyingly.

“I’m really gonna miss you picking fights, and me falling for it, screaming that I’m right, and you would hide away in your peace of mind…”

“I never said I didn’t want you to go!” Sanji screamed back at you. “I think it's the chance of a lifetime and if you want to, you should go.”

That’s not what you wanted him to say. You took your ground, staring him right in the eyes. “Do you want me to go, Sanji?”

“That’s not—”

“No, I mean…” You took a breath. “Say the word and I’ll stay. I won’t go. I’ll stay here and sing my silly songs on a crate covered in a tablecloth. Just tell me you want me.”

“I…” Sanji wanted to, you knew, but he was too kind. He wasn’t going to trap you here. You could see him choosing to be mean right before your very eyes. “I don’t care if you stay or go, Y/N. Go if you want to. I don’t care.”

You didn’t go in the morning, and the rich patron sailed away with the offer of a lifetime. 

“I used to think, that we were forever—ever. And I used to think, never say never…”

Sanji hadn’t realized Nami and Zoro were beside him till the jeering began.

“Damn,” Nami laughed into his ear. “When you said you broke her heart I didn’t think you meant it.”

Zoro cast him a teasing look. “You were a douche.”

Sanji’s cheeks burned. “We were kids! I…”

“Relax, we’re joking.” Nami nudged his shoulder before she turned back to you. “She’s watching you, by the way.”

“She is?” Sanji snapped his head back up a little too quickly, but he didn't care. Nami dragged Zoro back to their table, leaving Sanji to stare absolutely starstruck at you. You really were watching, an odd kind of look in your eyes. 

It wasn’t angry or sad or happy… but Sanji was sure he had a similar look in his eyes.

“So he calls me up and he’s like, ‘I still love you’...”

Your eyes locked with his and a burning sensation filled your chest. He hadn't changed much. More handsome you supposed, if you let yourself think it. 

“And I’m like… I’m just… I mean, this is exhausting, you know? Like we are never getting back together…”

He tried a grin and a little wave, and memories flooded back in an instant, both the good and bad. You somehow found it in yourself to offer a smile back, and you knew then, the song was probably a lie.

“Like ever.”

જ⁀➴

“Hi…” He found you on the back terrace of the Baratie, where the fish mouth of the restaurant opened up the starry night sky. 

You weren’t pretending to not be waiting, a glass of your mutually favorite wine across from you waiting for him. 

He sat down, mostly because the smile you offered him was enough to buckle his knees. 

“Hey,” you replied, averting your eyes to your glass. 

Sanji wasn’t exactly sure where to begin, but he started with, “I think Zeff set us up.”

You snorted. “Oh, definitely.”

“Uhm…” He looked out at the sea, then at his wine, then at you, and settled on keeping his eyes there. “You were wonderful. Radiant, really.” The stars faded from his eyes as mischief replaced it. “I liked your opener.”

You rolled your eyes and flushed from your neck to your nose. “Thank you. I had good inspiration.”

“I’d say my bad, but it was a good song.” Sanji felt as breathless as he used to, when he was sixteen and just learning how much he cared about you. “You were perfect. Are perfect. Can I still say that?”

You chuckled. “I—I guess so.”

Silence filled the space between you, clicking glasses and chatter from the bar feeling very far away.

“The drummer was good—”

“I think I still love you—”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, watching Sanji’s mouth open and close like a confused fish. His ears burnt pink and a spark of opportunity filled his beautiful blue eyes. You locked eyes, and Sanji started to laugh.

The sound was better than any music and flowed from his lips like honey. Chuckles bubbled up and out of your chest till you were gripping the sides of the chair you were in as you joined in on his uncontained and unending cackles.

He wiped at a tear and tried to get a hold of himself as your laughter died down as well, and he found himself admiring how you looked under the golden lighting of the terrace. “Would it be bad if I said same here?”

There was a brief pause before you threw your head back again and laughed over and over, drawing closer to Sanji till you were side by side, knee to knee, laughing loud enough to warrant a noise complaint.

“We’re hopeless,” you mused.

Sanji shrugged. “Yeah, but what’s new?”

A lot of things, actually. Things felt different, but the same, and it was odd for you both. The same love was there along with the bad memories tagged along with it, but you and Sanji had more experience behind you now. You were older and wiser and good God, you were no longer teenagers.

Some years ago it had been wrong place, wrong time, wrong… wrong everything.

But now you looked at him and instead of seeing the boy who used to break your heart, you saw Sanji. Your childhood best friend. The man who you once thought could be the love of your life.

Maybe… perhaps… it wouldn’t hurt to give it just one more go. All right, maybe you were getting back together. You could see the pair of you meeting back at Baratie a year later, your tour long over and his crew docked for the week. You’re lovers despite distance, awaiting a someday where your dreams finally align.

Sanji pressed a tentative kiss to your forehead, testing the waters in the wake of your laughter, and asked if you wanted to meet his crew. You nodded, meaning to stand when a boy in a straw hat vaulted over the back of the seat across from you and sat down. Then a girl with orange hair and boy with green, closely followed by a dark skinned boy with tinted glasses over his eyes. 

You took Sanji’s hand in your own and blushed at how he admired your profile like you’d hung the very stars in the sky. Yeah, you could see it.

[zepskies]

Strong as Blood - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: Did you like Part 1? Well, here's Part 2! This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

(Also, for those of you in the medical field…try to suspend your disbelief on this one. 😅)

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff overload.

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 2: “One Year, Forty, and a Hundred”

About a week later, you and Ben told your family the good news.

Your mom, Marie, took Ben’s face in her hands and pressed a delighted motherly kiss on his cheek, and then his forehead.

He very narrowly tolerated it with his usual gruffness, but you knew better. You saw the fond glint well hidden in his eyes, even after Marie released him.

It hadn’t taken her long after meeting Ben to start treating him like a son; always asking about his missions with Supe Affairs, praising a job well done when he had a successful report, and offering a supportive word even when they didn’t quite go his way.

Ben maintained his usual stoic bravado, but you knew he secretly ate up the praise, along with Marie’s genuine, nurturing nature.

Every time you saw your mother, she would give you baked goods in tupperware—for both of you, she claimed. But you noticed they were most often his favorites. You had a feeling she’d won him over early on with her macadamia nut brownies. (She still couldn’t cook worth a damn either, but she’d been taking a baking class.)

So Ben continued to help her do the dishes, even though she insisted he was a guest in her home. He claimed he was doing it so you wouldn’t jump in yourself.

And now we’re family, you had pointed out. Then Ben gifted you with one of those smiles, subtle and pleased, just for you.

You felt somewhat lazy, just sitting at the kitchen table with your sister Luisa. She sat close to you with her arm looped around yours, and she rubbed your lower back, which you now realized had been aching more often. For God’s sake, you hadn’t even realized you were late on your period.

I need to take some time off work, even before this kid gets here, you mused.

Realistically though, you should’ve expected this might happen. You hadn’t ever gotten around to replacing your IUD after you’d gotten it removed a few months ago. And God knew, Ben didn’t know how to pull out. (And he certainly didn’t buy condoms.)

“What’re you hoping for, a boy or a girl?” Louisa asked you and Ben, disrupting the path of your thoughts. You turned to your sister thoughtfully.

She still had her reservations about him, but she seemed to be warming up to your boyfriend a bit more after you told her the news. Especially after Ben had explained one of his plans over dinner.

His first thought was to hire Frank and Loco back as your personal security throughout your pregnancy, and likely even afterwards.

It was a rare time when you didn’t argue with him; the idea made sense, especially if you were going to continue working in Surveillance at Supe Affairs until you went on maternity leave. And, it would just be great to see them again. Frank had already agreed to start on Monday, after giving his polite congratulations.

(You and Ben each got a package in the mail yesterday: a box of bonafide Cuban cigars for him, a maternity body pillow for you, and a hand-crafted toy box for the baby. Inside had been a white noise sound machine to help the baby sleep.)

But now, Ben brightened at Louisa’s question. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“A son,” he replied. How brow rose, as if the answer was obvious. “I’ll be able to bring him up right. Strong. Not like these beanie-wearing pussies running the fucking Starbucks.”

“Ben,” you warned. He crossed his arms at you, quite literally standing firm on his stance. But your mother just smiled and pat his arm.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said. “I understand what you mean.”

You raised an incredulous brow.

Oh sure, you thought. She didn’t mind salty language when it was Ben, but God forbid you or Luisa bang a toe in your mother’s presence. Nor did it surprise you that she was agreeing with him.

But then Marie turned to him more earnestly.

“The way you take care of my daughter, I have no doubt you’ll make an excellent father,” she told him.

Ben treated her with a charming smile that showed touches of warmth.

Damn, you thought, as you felt the telltale burn of tears in your eyes. But it wasn’t just about what Marie had said. You had hoped for this one day, but it seemed he was finally making room for your family in his heart too.

“Football. A man’s game,” Ben continued. “I’ll teach him, take him fishing. Everything my old man didn’t bother with, I’ll do it all. Bring him up right…”

As your boyfriend chatted away with your mom, you hid a tendril of worry. You wondered what would happen if the baby turned out to be a girl.

With a glance at your sister, her subtle, raised brows told you she was thinking along the same lines. You sighed and got up; once again, it was time to pee.

Louisa followed you into the hall and laid a hand on your back.

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Louisa’s lips pursed, like she wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer.

“And what about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about this?”

You blinked back at her in slight surprise, but then your expression melted into a soft smile.

“I’m happy, Lou,” you said. Tears welled up in your eyes, yet again. “I’m really happy.” 

Louisa relented then, squeezing your hand. “Good…then good. I’m happy for you too.”

And that was really all you wanted.

“What? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ben said, peering harder at the ultrasound. The kind OBGYN faltered, though she again tried to point out that what he was looking at was actually a small foot.

“Congratulations,” she told you both. “She’s the right size for twelve weeks of development. And look there, you can even see the umbilical cord—”

“You sure this thing isn’t on the fritz?” Ben asked, bumping the ultrasound monitor with his hand.

“Ben.” You looked over at him with a glare. “Are you serious right now?”

He looked back over at you, and you saw his stubbornness in his frown and knitted brows.

“I’m just saying—” he started, but you didn’t let him get that far.

“You heard the freakin’ doctor. We’re having a girl,” you snapped. “I’m the one who has the transvaginal probe shoved up inside me, so shut the fuck up!”

Ben’s jaw worked as he barely held himself from barking back at you. It wouldn��t be the first time you levied your smart mouth at him, but it wasn’t often that you disrespected him.

“Excuse me?” he still groused.

His anger got waylaid though. He watched you heave a sigh and blink quickly, so you wouldn’t release the well of frustrated tears building behind your eyes.

The doctor looked between you both warily. You turned to her with watery eyes, and you sniffed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Continue, please.”

When the appointment with the OBGYN was done, you didn’t let Ben help you down from the examining table. Nor did you let him touch you, all the way to the car.

An hour later, you both made it back to the apartment you shared in Scarsdale. You stomped up the stairs ahead of him and beelined into the bedroom. You had half a mind to slam the door in his face, but you didn’t have the energy to be that petty.

Frankly, you were exhausted with a tinge of nausea. But you didn’t know if that was pregnancy sickness, or if you were just that anxious.

You sat down on your side of the bed, and you sighed when you heard Ben’s heavy footsteps enter in behind you.

“All right, that could’ve gone better,” he said. “But look at it from my point of view—”

That nearly unhinged you. Your stomach roiled, but you got to your feet and turned around to face him where he stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

“It’s not all about you,” you shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one carrying this baby. I’m not just a human incubator.”

“I fucking know that,” he retorted, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“And you’re not the only one who’s wanted this,” you said. Against your will, your eyes once again burned with tears as you held yourself. “You know very well what I’ve…that I didn’t have a normal family growing up.”

Ben quieted. His irritation softened around the edges, especially as your voice trembled.

“Don’t you know what it’s going to mean to me to give our child what I didn’t have?” you asked. “Stability, support, and…and love, from both parents?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. And when he didn’t seem to have anything to say to you, you shook your head and walked away.

Ben let out a heavy breath. He followed you and stopped you in the living room. “Listen—”

“No, you listen,” you snapped, whirling around on him. “I would’ve been content no matter if it was a boy or a girl, and you ruined that today. You really did.”

His gaze briefly fell to the floor, before it met yours again.

“But even with that, I’m still happy,” you said, as your vision became blurry and wet. “I’m so damn happy…and so scared.”

When you finally broke down crying, Ben got a full picture of just how badly he’d fucked this up. He collected you in his arms and guided you to sit with him on the couch. There he held you as you clung to him and wept into his neck.

The longer it went on, the more he felt like an asshole—with the kind of uncomfortable, gut-churning remorse that only you tended to draw from him.

Ben hesitated, but he knew you deserved to hear him say it. (And you probably wouldn’t let this go until he did.)

“Okay, sweetheart, calm down,” he rumbled in your ear. Along with, "…I’m sorry."

The weight of that fell between you for a moment. You nodded, with a sniff, and he slowly rubbed your back.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said. “My blood’s making you nice and strong.”

Well, technically it was the baby’s blood, and the super genes they held. You shook your head against his neck.

“That’s not it,” you said. “I mean, that’s part of it, I guess. Dr. Baker didn’t do a great job of reassuring me, but she did say that if the strength lasts throughout the birth, she didn’t expect serious complications.”

Fuck. Ben’s hand tightened in your hair. That...was a thought he hadn't considered. It now made his stomach clench, though he remained silent.

He wished you would’ve taken him with you to see Dr. Baker, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your worries. He knew he'd be having his own talk with the good doctor soon enough.

“I love my mom. She did her best, you know? But I…I’ve had to take care of myself for most of my life,” you explained, with a hand fisted tight in his shirt. “What the hell do I know about being a mom?”

Ben considered that with a frown. He pulled back enough to see your face, tucking his curled fingers beneath your chin so you’d look at him.

“You looked after your sister, didn’t you?” he reminded. “Made sure she was safe, and grew up right. Now you take care of me, like I take care of you… And you got no problem calling me out on my bullshit.”

That got a slight smile out of you. He brushed away another one of your tears with his thumb.

“You’re gonna be great, sweetheart. I never had any doubts about that,” he said, “The truth is, I couldn’t wait to fuck you raw to make this happen.”

You spluttered a laugh then, even though you were still weeping.

“Yeah, I know,” you said with a wry smile, stroking his bearded cheek. You leaned up and kissed the other cheek. He turned his head and went for your lips. The kiss was slow and tender while he held you where you always felt safe.

Ben grasped the hand on his cheek…and an idea flickered through his mind.

He parted from you, only to say, “Wait here.”

Your brows furrowed, and you blinked through wet lashes. “What?”

“Just stay put for me,” he said.

But he didn’t tell you what he was up to as he left you on the couch to duck into the bedroom. You took the time to wipe at your eyes and take some deep, calming breaths.

Ben came back soon after, seemingly empty-handed as he sat down next to you. You gave him a curious look.

He slipped a hand into his pocket. “Just for the record, I’ve had this for a while.”

And he pulled a black velvet box out of his pocket. You let out a shaky breath of surprise. The ring he pulled out wasn’t a flashy, gaudy thing like you half-expected. It actually looked delicate, and vintage, pale gold with filigree around the hexagonal stone. It glittered, even in the dim lamplight. 

“Where’d you find that?” you asked. But somehow, looking into his eyes, you knew what this was. 

“Besides those old pictures, the only thing I’ve got left of my mother is right here,” he said, holding up the ring for you. More burgeoning tears fell down your cheeks as your heart constricted. 

“Marry me,” he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. 

Despite yourself, a smile raised the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, I don’t know. Is that a question?”

Ben released a breath. Reluctantly, he smirked.

“Fucking figures that you’d make this difficult,” he said.

“You’re the one who fumbled at the goal line, Romeo,” you replied cheekily.

You then gestured at the ground in front of you. He raised a brow.

But, he obliged your demands, making a show of sliding from the couch, down to the ground. He parted your jean-clad knees so he could move in between them. He knelt one knee on the hard wood, and once again took your hand.

Ben somehow hesitated on the question, even though you both were hanging on his words. With your free hand, you smoothed his hair away from his eyes, subtly encouraging him. 

“If I had to go back, do it all over again,” he said, “I wouldn’t have done a damn thing different.”

You frowned at him. “Really?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Because I’m right where I want to be.”

You teared up all over again when you realized what he was really saying. You laid a hand on his chest, where his fiercest power resided. He squeezed the hand he held. 

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” Ben asked. His smirk was almost boyish, despite his age. And yet, it was so very him.

You reached out with your free hand and slid your fingers through his hair, resting it at the back of his neck.  

“Yeah,” you agreed, with a beaming smile. “Let’s do it.”

He slipped the ring on your finger, where it fit well. And it was now the most beautiful thing you owned, not only for its shining beauty.

You pulled him in for a kiss. His hands burned up your thighs, squeezing your hips. But again, he hesitated. His lips pulled away from yours as his hand moved to brush your belly. It was already brimming with life. He’d seen the images, heard the heartbeat.  

“Thank you,” Ben said. His voice was deep and gruff.

You smiled. With a nod, you held him to you, laying a sweet path of kisses from his cheek, down to his neck.

“I love you,” you said.

He just nodded in response. His throat was tight at the moment. But you wouldn’t let him get off that easy.

“Say it,” you jostled him in your arms. “I’m only growing a super melon for you.” 

It earned you an amused look from him. 

“I love you too,” he said. His voice was a bit coarse, and laden with rare emotion. You pulled him into a stronger hug, which soon became him dragging you into his lap when he raised himself up onto to the couch. You took his face in your hands. 

“See? We made it here,” you teased. You knew he remembered the conversation you two had a few months ago, about waiting a little while to take this next step in your relationship. To have a family.  

“Soon. Not someday,” he’d told you. And you’d agreed.

You reminded him of it now while you stroked his face. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

He snorted at that. “You sure took your fucking time with that one, huh?”

“Excuse me?” you retorted.

Ben pulled you into a kiss before you could truly get going. Arguing with him was one of the things you did best.

But what you two ended up doing on the couch was second to none.  

A few months later…

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ben said. His tone was edged, his brows crunching. “What kind of development?”

You curled a hand around his wrist, shooting him a calming look before you returned your attention to Dr. Baker.

“What do you mean, Tonya?” you asked. Your other hand continued to rest over your belly.

At the seven-month mark of your pregnancy, you felt like you were beginning to resemble a parade float as you sat on the medical examining table in the doctor’s office. But you were grateful for Ben’s warm hand spanning the small of your back. It gave you stability as a coil of anxiety began to bloom in your chest.

Dr. Baker reviewed her charts once more. You didn’t like that gleam of scientific interest in her eye while she perused the data, then looked up at you and Ben from her narrow-framed glasses.

“Not with the baby. She’s doing very well,” she said.

That gave you a measure of immense relief.

“The development concerns you,” she clarified, meeting your gaze. “As you know, we’ve been monitoring you very closely.”

You nodded. The weekly checkups and monthly blood panels served to both soothe and increase your anxiety, but you knew that it made Ben feel better, that you were being taken care of in this aspect of your pregnancy.

To government knowledge, no one other than Becca Butcher had ever gone through a pregnancy of this nature. And Homelander had been created in a lab. This was breaking somewhat new ground (which was only in the top five of “things that made you nervous.”)

“I found something…interesting in your bloodwork,” said Dr. Baker. She pulled out two charts from her files and clipped them onto her whiteboard for you and Ben to see. They looked virtually the same, with one graph’s red bars slightly lower than the first.

“What’s that?” Ben asked.

“It’s your wife’s cell regeneration levels,” the doctor replied, pointing to the second graph. “Hers have become almost as high as yours.”

She pointed to the first graph for comparison. You leaned in closer to see as your eyes widened. With the weight of your belly making you off balance, you nearly slid off the examining table. Ben noticed and caught you quick. His arms came around you, though as the news donned on him, his face slid into shock.

“What?” he uttered.

“That’s got to be because of the baby,” you reasoned. “Is it…just temporary? Like the super strength.”

Even that was somewhat intermittent. Some days, you felt your aches and pains and experienced morning sickness and food aversions, like any other pregnant woman. On others, you were able to lift one side of the couch one-handed and vacuum up the dust bunnies underneath it.

“I believe that blood transfusion, as well as your pregnancy greatly accelerated the effects, but no, this isn’t an isolated incident.” Dr. Baker shook her head. “Your DNA has mutated.”

“Are you serious?” you nearly choked out. She nodded. Dr. Baker never joked.

“By my calculations, this process started before you conceived. Over the course of the past year, or more,” she explained. “Do you understand what this means?”

“Y-Yes, I think so,” you said. Your hand squeezed over Ben’s; it was the hand that carried the weight of your gold wedding bands. A lump of emotion rose in your throat. “It means…I’m going to heal from injuries quicker than normal. And…I’m not going to age like a normal person.”

“That’s likely correct,” she replied.  

That news fell in the room like a stone. You shared a wide-eyed look with Ben. Neither of you knew quite what to think just yet. Even though he was trying to maintain an even-keel expression, you could see his eyes were beginning to brighten with hope. Yours were too…though you were still confused.

“How the hell is this possible?” you asked. “I mean, Ben gave me his blood for a transfusion. But like you said, that was one time, two years ago now. And you said the pregnancy accelerated this, but that’s not how it started…”

Dr. Baker actually smiled. You didn’t like the wry turn of her lips. She crossed her legs where she sat at her desk and tapped her clipboard with her pen.

“How often would you say you two have sex?” she asked.

That was certainly not where you thought this conversation was going. You couldn’t help but blush.

“How is that even remotely relevant?” you asked.

You glanced at your husband, who merely gave you one of his smug smirks, while his thumb stroked your side. Fucking typical. 

“Once a week?” the doctor prompted.

Your face heated up further, and you had to cover your mouth with a hand. Your sex life wasn’t quite as…vivacious as it had been since before you’d gotten pregnant, but it was still a good one, even with your growing size. Ben was nothing if not creative.  

And you were still newlyweds, after all.

“Assume we’re doing a healthy amount of fucking, doc,” Ben remarked.

You gasped and hit his thigh, and finally covered your whole face in thorough embarrassment. He just smirked and took your hand so you couldn’t hide. It amused him that you still got like this.

He then pressed a kiss to the back of your fingers.

You sighed and held his hand back. I chose this man. Remember that.

“Again, what does that have to with this?” you asked, your voice a bit higher.

Dr. Baker’s lips flickered at another one of those smiles. “Well, how often did you use condoms over the past two years?”

You and Ben both snorted in response.

“He’s morally opposed to them, doctor,” you said dryly.

She nodded. “I assumed as much.”

Once again, Ben smirked, but Dr. Baker plowed ahead.

“Let me explain it this way,” she said. “Think of how HIV spreads sexually. The infected DNA is transmitted, and it eventually hits the partner’s bloodstream, affecting the entire body. What we have here is a similar case…if for the fact that this was a gradual effect, over the course of several months.”

Ben blinked, and a frown also tugged down his brows.

“Are you saying that I gave her my superpowers…like an STD?” he asked.

Your eyes became as wide as saucers.

Holy shit! you thought, and another one occurred to you. If this all started from the first time you and Ben ever had sex…then that was over two years of being dosed with literal super sperm.

“Not quite,” Dr. Baker said to him. “Just the essence of what sets your DNA apart, even from other supes.”

“Right. Because how the hell hasn’t this happened to anyone else who’s normal?” you asked. “What makes Ben different?”

Dr. Baker finally set down her pen. She folded her hands in her lap to address you with a patience that you didn’t often see from her.

“Remember, the serum he received was still a prototype,” she said. “Vought continued to refine the recipe after the ‘Soldier Boy’ project was successful. For example, the way his cells regenerate is one of those factors that needed to be weeded out, if Compound V was to be a successful product in the long-term.”

You nodded slowly, as that made sense to you. If every supe suddenly lived over a hundred years, it would make it pretty hard to secretly inject that shit into newborns. They had to package it in a more insidious way.

“This is an unpredictable outcome of your exposure to his unique genetic makeup,” Dr. Baker continued, “and there may very well be more to come in the future.”

You weren’t sure how to take that potentially foreboding news, but on the other hand…

“Oh my God! I’m going to live to be a hundred,” you said, holding tighter onto Ben as shock began to make you tremble. His grip was firm and steadying in response. And yet, his face betrayed how he was trying to process this as well.

“Likely much longer than that,” Dr. Baker said, shocking you even further. And she reminded, “Your cells aren’t regenerating at quite the same rate as his…but it is close.”

Again, holy fucking shit.

You let out a halting breath, and you looked up at Ben, a smile growing across your face. You reached up a hand for his bearded cheek. He looked down on you with his usual stoicism, but it was merely a front. You saw through to the true emotions shining in his eyes.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me, baby,” you said, even as your own eyes stung with tears. Your heart felt full to the brim, and even overflowing. If this was what it took to be with your husband, then altering your genetics was a price you were willing to pay…at least in this way.

Though you gave him a more teasing smile. “You’re not gonna be able to welch out of that ‘til death do us part thing. So cancel the caravan of blow and strippers.”

Ben chuckled deeply. He held your hand and stroked the inside of your wrist. For a moment, he just looked down at your face. It had become a bit more rounded with your pregnancy—thighs and arms (and ass) thicker too. And to him, you were still perfectly his.  

“Fine by me. You’ve got something they don’t, anyway,” he said. He remembered the same words he’d said to you just a year ago, in the bed he still shared with you.

Your eyes gleamed with amusement, and so much more. You played along.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked.

He smirked. “You’ve got a supe STD.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you burst out laughing and hit his shoulder.

“Yeah, from you,” you quipped back. “I should’ve known you were carrying something.”

The two of you didn’t know it, but that was when Dr. Baker smiled to herself. She decided then to leave the room, giving you some privacy as Ben laughed and framed your face with his hands.

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching stray tears as they fell. You bit your lip as your glassy eyes met his once more. Ben became more serious as he let out a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he reminded you. “Your family, your friends…they’re going to change, and you’re going to stay the same.”

Your excitement dimmed as that realization hit you. Your hands clenched in his shirt, over his chest. You thought about your mom, your sister, Yvette and Devon, Annie and Hughie and the rest of the team (even Butcher, you would miss).

“Yeah…that part’s not gonna be fun,” you said with a heavy, tremulous sigh. Your heart clenched at the very thought of them growing old, leaving you behind.

But your gaze eventually drew back up to him. You wondered then, not for the first time, how it must’ve been for him. For his parents to grow old and pass on long before him. For childhood friends, old lovers…

“Do you know what I worried about when we got married?” you asked.

Ben’s hands traveled down from your face, down your arms, to finally rest at your waist and thigh. He stared back at you expectantly.

“When you first told me you loved me, you said you were holding back the truth. Because you thought that one day, you’d be alone again,” you said, stroking his chest. “That honestly broke my heart. And it made me wonder if I was selfish to be with you anyway.”

Ben frowned, but you shook your head before he could respond.

“I told myself that after the baby was born, I’d go to Dr. Baker and ask her to find a way to make this happen,” you said. Another smile grew across your face. “But guess what? We figured it out all on our own, super stud.”

Ben smiled then, huffing in amusement as he thumbed at your cheek. You couldn’t really understand the full force of his relief. It might’ve threatened to buckle him into a seat, if he had been standing.

But now, he struggled with the warmth in his chest that for once, had nothing to do with his powers. He moved in to tug you into his arms, and he let out a long breath through his nose.

You couldn’t see how his eyes closed, but you felt his lips press against your forehead. You held him close. Or as closely as you could with your belly getting in between.

You rubbed his back and rested against his chest, hearing the calming, steady sound of his heart beating under your ear.  

“And at this rate, I might even live longer than you,” you teased. “After all, you got a head start. Compared to you, I’m still a hot young thing.”

Ben snorted and shook his head. “All right. Now you’re pushing it.”

You smirked into his chest.

“I’ll have to figure out where you rent those caravans.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. At the sound of your giggle, he couldn’t help but smile.

He still swatted you on the ass though.

A couple more months later…

He smelled like cigar smoke. For which you had no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Frank and M.M. outside the hospital. 

The team of doctors (led by Dr. Baker) had finally left you alone with your husband, allowing you to take your first relaxed breath of the day.

“Your mom and your sister are waiting. Blondie and the others are out there too,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My girl’s got a whole possy of bitches.” 

You assumed he meant Annie and the rest of the team.

You shot him a look, but you were careful not to disturb the sleeping newborn resting on your chest, in the crook of your arm.  

“They’re my friends, babe,” you whispered. “And they’re your friends now too, you just don’t want to admit it.”

Ben didn’t acknowledge that, but he laid a hand on your shoulder as he sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

“How’re you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked. “Got everything you need?”

He’d become even more protective, but also very sweet to you in these past several months. More so than you’d thought him capable of, but it warmed you every time, when you considered how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he was not so very long ago.

It seemed that fatherhood was beginning to soften him, even before he began. You quirked a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you said, tired but still cheeky as ever.

He snorted a bit loudly at that, and you shushed him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expected nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answered his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considered you for a moment, a slightly softer smile curving his lips, and he nodded.

“All right,” he said.

Your daughter woke and began to squirm in your arms, prompting Ben to look down at the bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Gently as possible, he brushed the tuft of downy brown hair on her head. His hand shook ever so slightly, touching her small cheek. 

How can this little thing be mine? he wondered. His lips pressed into a firm line.

There was a thought, deep and thrumming inside him, that he didn’t deserve this. That just a couple of years ago, he had nothing to lose.

And now, his entire world was in this room. He’d never admit it, but it was a terrifying thought, for a man who’d had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stopped the path of his thoughts when you raised a warm hand to his cheek. It earned his attention, and he grabbed your hand to keep it there.

You smiled up at Ben with weariness in your eyes. The super strength had drained out of you a few moments after the umbilical cord was cut, which had made for a less painful labor than you anticipated. But it had also been a long and uncomfortable eighteen hours.

“Wanna hold her for a while?” you asked.

The offer caught him off guard. His brows drew together, but he very carefully took his daughter from you, into his arms. Despite your temporary abilities throughout your pregnancy, he didn’t know if she already had his strength, or if it was something she’d grow into. Ben didn’t want to take any chances.

As he looked down at a small face that already had some of his features, he inhaled a faltering breath.

It was the first time you ever saw true tears in his eyes, as one managed to draw a path down his cheek. You smiled, and the pair of rings on your left hand caught the lamplight as you rested your hand on your chest.   

Ben held the bundle close in the crook of his arm. One of the baby’s hands was free, and he tickled his finger in her palm. She grasped it on reflex, opening her mouth on a yawn. Despite his red and shining eyes, he smiled, especially when she reached up for a strand of his hair with small, grabby fingers.

He let her get a hold of it, smirking when she gave it a little tug. Just hours old, and his girl was already demanding his attention. He didn’t know if newborns were able to do that this early, or if it was her blood that made her special.

Either way, he knew then that she was going to be a handful. Just like you. 

Ben glanced over and found you watching him with soft amusement. He looked back down at his daughter and told her the obvious.

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, baby girl,” he said. It elicited a knowing scoff out of you. However, his smirk softened. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looked back at you, and there was the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he said.

He knew then that what he said to you before was right. If he had to go back to 1984, or even 1944, he’d do it all exactly the same.

It all worked out pretty damn well, from where he was standing.

AN: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 🥹😭

I sincerely hope you enjoyed Strong as Blood. Let me know what you think! And then you can...

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, get ready for some parenting fluff:

Summary: A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

▶️ Next Story: Until Morning

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 13

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: hello! yes, finally, an update! thank you to all of you who were patiently waiting for this. tbh the Benophie announcement gave me a bit of a spark of motivation to finish this chapter! enjoy!

Series Masterlist

My dearest Y/N,

I am not sure what else to say other than I am sorry. I am sorry for making you feel as though you meant nothing to me. I must admit, due to my own self-induced heartbreak, I refused to read your letters previously. However, you will not find me doing that again. I have missed your friendship dearly. It is my own fault for doing this to us. I will never do that to you again, I promise.

Always feel free to write to me. You will receive a response from me, now and always.

Yours,

Benedict

You read the short letter over and over again. You're in a bit of disbelief, yet you're overjoyed. You kept your expectations low after sending that letter to Benedict. However, you're pleasantly surprised that not only has he written back, but he desires to renew your friendship once more.

You immediately go to your writing desk and begin to write a reply.

You spend some time writing everything down, how grateful you are for Ben, how you've been spending your days, as well as your moments of grief.

James' parents have provided good company to you. Ever since meeting you, that have been so kind and loving. They remind you of how your parents used to be prior to your mother's passing.

In your letter, your relay to Benedict how you've been trying to write poetry to help you process and cope James' passing, but nothing has come from these attempts.

Admittedly, Benedict was your muse for so long. After he left, James became your muse. Now he's gone. You don't want to think about Benedict potentially taking up the place as your muse again. A part of you feels as though that would be a betrayal to James, however, your muse was originally Benedict...

It's fine. You won't worry about it too much right now. You'll just take things day by day.

After you finish your letter, you fold and seal it. Calling upon a footman, you ask him to send it to Benedict and the young man leaves promptly.

__________________________

Dear Benedict,

I may be going stir-crazy here. Mama and papa have been very loving and supportive, however, I feel that, even in this large estate, I cannot get away.

I've been riding a lot more than usual now just to get out. I know, it is shocking to me as well since I was never fond of it. However, now I find myself wanting to ride every single day just to be out and about.

Maybe I should discuss with mama and papa if I can start accepting guests again. For I am not sure how much longer I can take this.

Anyway, I hope you are well. It has been some time since we last exchanged letters. I am sure you have been busy with the new exhibit coming up. I hope it is successful. Everyone will be able to see just how talented you are.

I am so proud of you and what you have achieved, Ben. Never forget that.

Yours,

Y/N

Benedict sighs, reading over your letter. He is visiting his family, taking break from working on his last painting for the exhibition.

"What ails you, brother?" Eloise asks as she sits beside him.

"Would it be improper if I were to visit Y/N soon?" he asks her with confliction written on his face.

"Why would it be improper? You two are friends again, yes?" Eloise asks confused.

He lets out a deep breath before explaining, "After the death of a spouse, it's customary to mourn them for a year before accepting guests and taking part is society again. It's only been sixth months."

Eloise scoffs, "Benedict, you know that I am the last person to tell you of what you should or should not do in terms of societal rules."

"Of course," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"What is it that you really want to ask me?"

Benedict remains silent, contemplating on how he should ask his sister.

The truth is, Benedict has felt whole again. Having you back in his life has brought so much happiness, familiarity, and comfort that he's been seeking for the past few years.

It's clear to him that his love for you will never seize. You will always remain a part of him and he will always hold you in a special place in his heart. However, if he takes this step to be close to you again, will it end in heartbreak once more? He doesn't want to think of such an outcome, but there's always a possibility. No. Nonsense. He can't think about that.

Benedict may love you, but you are first and foremost his best friend. Therefore, any feelings he has of you must be cast aside. Being your friend, in your company, speaking with you, being there for you, that is the priority. Benedict's feelings be damned. He will not make the same idiotic mistakes he made before. He's wiser and stronger now.

The relationship you two share is much more important, now that ever.

Benedict turns to Eloise and smiles, "I think I'll alright, Eloise," he stands with confidence.

His sister looks at him with uncertainty, "Are you sure? You're not going to do anything stupid again, are you?"

He shakes his head, "No. I promise, I am better. I will be better for Y/N."

"If you're sure," Eloise says before Benedict exits the sitting room.

______________________

The wind is blowing through your hair as you ride through the forest. It is midday and you have a lot of energy. James' horse, now yours, Bluebell, is fast and agile. She leaps over bushes and fallen tree trunks with ease.

You and Bluebell have gotten quite close these past few months. She's been able to grant you the freedom you've been aching for.

The first three months after James' passing were hard. Now six months later, you've finally accepted his death. It was unexpected and there was nothing you could do to help. You had loved him dearly and he accepted and understood you like very few have.

You are grateful for the short time you had with him, but now you'd like to slowly move on with your life.

You've been trying to get back into writing. Very few pieces have come out well. The rest thrown into the fireplace, burning to ash so you wouldn't have to see it again.

You've come to realize that the few works that have been kept, you've come up with while riding. Another reason why you have gone out a lot more. You're trying to find that spark again that you once had before James' passing.

You stop at a small creek flowing through the Montclair land. You dismount Bluebell and guide her to the water so she may quench her thirst and rest a bit. You sit by the creek, watching as the water flows by. You listen to the birds chirping, the trees swaying in the wind.

You think about how you've been feeling the past six months. How only in the late hours of the night is when you experienced the heart ache of James' passing, how you felt knowing you will no longer experience his freeing and doting love.

You pull out your journal from your satchel and begin to write:

Deep in the shadows where heartache grew

Mourning hearts match skies of grey

A love once bright as morning dew

Now drifted gone as night to day

The halls keep our memories

Our laughter and tears

Walking among those walls, memories sunken

deep within the seas

It's short yet conveys the feelings you want it too. You don't hate it, but it may need some work. So you keep it in your journal and stand. Some time has passed for Bluebell to catch a break. You mount her once more and head back to the estate in more of a trot rather than a flying gallop.

When you arrive back, you see Clarissa waiting for you.

"Something the matter?"

She gives you a small smile, "I know Jean Louis and myself have informed you of the mourning customs, however, it has been brought to our attention that sometimes one does not need twelve months to mourn the loss of her husband."

"Mother?" you ask her confused.

"I just know that you have always been more of a free spirited woman, which is why James was so drawn to you. I also know that you did love him dearly and I will not be upset that you shorten your mourning period. You wanted to be free from societal standards from the very beginning, therefore, we will allow you to start accepting guests back at this home. You are also free to go back to yours and James' home in London."

You're not sure why your mother-in-law is saying all of this, "I-Thank you, mama. I do appreciate all of that, however, I must admit I am confused why you are mentioning this."

"I received a letter from Mister Benedict Bridgerton. He was requesting to see you."

Your eyes widen in surprise, "I assure you, I didn't ask him to do that. I was planning on asking you myself."

Your mother-in-law chuckles, "Yes, well, it seems Mister Bridgerton beat you to it."

You sigh, "So it seems."

"Everyone mourns differently, cheri, we understand that you would also like to be in the company of others during this time. Mister Bridgerton is a close friend of yours, yes?"

You nod, "He is. I'll make sure we can be seen and-"

Clarissa chuckles, "You don't have to worry about those things here, cheri. I trust you. I will write back to Mister Bridgerton right now."

You curtsey, "Thank you, mama. As usual, your kindness is greatly appreciated."

The older woman sighs, walking up to you and cupping your face, "You never have to thank me for kindness. It is a mother's duty to listen and understand her children. Although you are not my blood, you are my daughter just the same."

Her words brings tears to your eyes. She reminds you so much of your own mother, it hurts a little. To know that your own mother can't be here with you during this time. You're sure she would have provided a lot of her wisdom and advice. Nonetheless, you are grateful to now call Madame Montclair as your own mother.

"Thank you, again."

"Of course," she kisses your cheek, "Best wash up before lunch, yes?"

"Right. Excuse me," you pick up your skirt and rush back into the house to have a quick bath.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Thought Contagion (Horus Lupercal, Sanguinius)

Summary: Horus saves you and your orphans from a terrible life. He asks very little from you as gratitude.

Horus Lupercal/fem!Reader, Sanguinius/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, manipulation

Word count: 1180

Song: Muse - Thought Contagion

I haven’t been able to publish this post for several days, but it’s time to do it. I really want to learn how to write Horus. But Sanguinius is too difficult for me. Probably I will return to him definetly not soon. Not my best work in triangle series but at least I train.

Horus loved his sons. He was more attached to his Legion than any Primarch. And yet, in some subconscious way, he knew that he was missing something. Usually at such moments he immediately remembered his childhood with his father.

On one of these days, he just met you. Well, not at first. A little boy who jumped out from under your skirt and hurried towards him as fast as he could. The child joyfully hugged the pensive primarch’s leg, not at all afraid of his height and position.

“This is the Warmaster!”

As soon as he heard the patter of feet in the distance, Horus could not help but grin. It seems the child often ran away from supervision. The warrior looks up and sees you. Small and tired, running as fast as you could to the boy. And 5 more of these street kids were hurrying after you. And he immediately notices that they were all of different appearances and ages. Nobody looked alike. And you were too young to give birth to them all.

You ask the primarch for forgiveness for your ward. You thank him for saving and building a refugee camp. Horus listened to you, but he kept glancing at the boys. Some were weak, but some were strong and dexterous, ideal candidates... they all huddled close to your figure, either asking for love or protecting you from the primarch. Some even hung on you.

“Are these boys your sons or brothers, miss?” - the primarch smiles widely at the children, and they look at him in fascination as if he were a hero. Although he really was a hero to them.

This effect does work on you but not too much. You blink your eyes before hugging the children tenderly. Almost in a protective gesture. Do you really think that he would take the children with him onto the ship by force? He would never do that. Horus is a good man.

He would have done this if his proposal had been rejected.

“No, Warmaster. They are orphans. I picked them up while hostilities were going on. We hid from the xenos together while you saved us.” - you gently look around at the street children and smile. - “Although during this time they became almost like sons to me.”

Your look, your gestures, your words... something broked him. It struck a nerve. His hearts and superhuman nature were touched. Surprisingly, such thoughts never crossed primarch mind. However, in that moment, Horus realized and felt an unfamiliar and alluring desire.

He wants you.

You were quickly transferred to his ship. Became his personal serf. Nothing complicated. Just submit documents, food and drinks. Serve human guests within reason. Yes, you were deprived of your freedom, but your life should have been better. The pallor and dark circles under the eyes disappeared, and the skin acquired a healthy color. Once the Warmaster even ran his hand through your hair, noting how pleasant it was to the touch.

Teachers were assigned to the boys so that they could become warriors. It's unlikely that you would approve of them joining the Astartes, but you couldn't say no to Horus, could you? Especially when they looked so enthusiastically at the training of the Space Marines. At such moments, the primarch wanted to encourage them, instruct them, but... they were not his.

But that didn't bother you. In free moments, you constantly cooed over them, asked about their successes and failures. One time the younger one ran so hard that he tripped and injured his knee. You sat with him on the cold floor and calmed the baby. This sight excited Horus... perhaps in the wrong way. Because he had to lock himself in his chambers to relieve himself.

But your maternal instinct, your pure love and care. This is what he wanted. He is strength and you are softness. A symbiosis of the fusion of bodies and souls, a masterpiece of human biology. Horus had the Emperor and that was enough for him, but at the same time he wanted more.

And you had to give it to him. After all, Horus has done so much for you. A new life with all the benefits should have endeared you to the primarch. Not to mention the fact that you spent almost all your time with him. Listen to him, get to know his soul. The primarch could almost feel this thin thread connecting you together.

But the little trick breaks down once Sanguinius visits his brother. You fell under the influence of the Warmaster, but not strong enough. Quickly dealt with his presence. But the way you reacted to the Blood Angel. You literally devoured him with your eyes. Your cheeks turned red just from him looking at you. Mouth filled with saliva as soon as he spoke. And one day when the Sanguinius stroked your head, Horus felt your arousal.

But you were his. This is how you should have reacted to the Warmaster. He saved you, he saved your sons. So why does his favorite brother get your love? Doesn't matter. Sanguinius doesn't care about you, you're just one of many mortals. And how nice it is to look at your sad face when the Bloody Angel left the Vengeful Spirit.

But this is not enough. You must be punished. Horus could be rude to you and just fuck you without asking. Press your small body into the soft bed, fill it to the brim. And then watch your belly grow due to the appearance of a new little life. His legacy. But that would be wrong, right?

So he simply tells you the truth about Sanguinius. Just a little bit of embellishment. About how he loves drinking human blood so much that all mortals always die. That his Legion was actually a bunch of blood thirsty bastards pretending to be heroes.

No, you won't be safe with him. Only with Horus. Besides, what about your boys? Especially the younger one, who ran up to the Warmaster. He is too weak and inept. An unenviable fate awaits such a child. The life of a serf or even servitarization. You need to devote all your time to your children and your primarch.

You cry and hide your face in your hands. Beg to save the children. You say you didn't know about his brother's monstrosity. You promise to do whatever he wants. Just let the boys be safe. In a moment of horror, you didn’t even think about yourself, but about your little street children.

Horus smiles softly and lifts your frightened face, taking in every detail. Your and Horus's children will be so beautiful. The man kisses you carefully and tenderly on the lips, almost devouring you all. Your hands rise into the air, but stop.

You clearly wanted to push him away, Horus knew that. First he kisses, and then he confesses his feelings. He had no experience in courtship, so you needed to forgive him. For now, let him love you. In the end…

He asks for so little.

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 8: Hostile Takeover

Word Count: 28,297

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "What was supposed to be a success story takes an unexpected turn when Amalia is faced yet again with Efrim's clear distaste for her, much to his sister's chagrin. But as conversations are held, bad memories revisited, and secrets are revealed, Amalia will find out that the most hostile member of the Council of Six's animosity towards her might be rooted in something much deeper. But the real question is, will she be able to come out unscathed from it all?"

“As much as Phaeris hates to question Lady Amalia’s abilities, it has only been two weeks. How could she have made significant progress so soon?” Phaeris mused aloud, his voice laced with scepticism.

“Well, she is a Divine Doll, Brother. Surely her magic must have played an important role.” Mina, who was walking by his side, reminded him gently. The silver curls framing her face bounced with her every step.

“Then she should’ve been done within seconds of stepping foot into the room. It certainly took her less time to remodel her personal quarters.” Chibi pointed out, exchanging a glance with his dragon twin, who nodded.

From that point onwards, the Ebony Dofus twins weren’t quite the same. After what they’d witnessed, the two couldn’t help but keep a safe distance whenever Amalia was around, not keen on her powers startling them again. Much like everyone in the Council had taken to brace themselves whenever it looked like the Divine Doll was about to shapeshift.

“Well, Amalia said she preferred to do things the old-fashioned way.” Yugo, who was leading their march towards the doll’s garden, spoke up. “Maybe that’s why things are growing more slowly?”

Even though that was what he said, the explanation didn’t sound very convincing even to his ears. He, too, had witnessed the things Amalia was capable of with her magic. The fact that she grew giant vines that encircled the room’s pillars in a matter of seconds as opposed to the many years it would have taken had they grown naturally was testament enough of that.

As always, Qilby was quick to point that fact out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Last time I checked, some things still took far more time to grow than a mere two weeks. A whole garden being one of those things.”

“Oh, Qilby, there you go again.” Shinonomé chided her twin brother playfully, grasping his shoulder and elbow and squeezing affectionately. “If Lady Amalia has managed to grow her garden in such a short amount of time, all the better! That just means we’ll get to enjoy the fruits of her labour sooner.”

“Shinonomé is right.” Adamaï nodded. Standing close behind Yugo, he had his arms crossed over his torso, his head tilted down as he got lost in thought. “Why look a gifted Dragoturkey in the mouth?”

The Emerald Dofus twins locked eyes and exchanged wordless nods. As expected of a Primordial Eliatrope and his dragon twin, their bond was so deep they could hold entire conversations without so much as uttering a word. Although the psychic link they shared also helped.

While they remained composed and collected on the outside, on the inside both Yugo and Adamaï reminisced on the conversation they had shortly after the king escorted their guest back to her room once she’d been shown to what was to become her garden. The moment Amalia walked into her room and closed the door behind her, Yugo didn’t waste any time in making a beeline with his portals in search of Adamaï, desperate to unload the day’s conversations and worries onto his brother, hoping he’d be able to help him.

As soon as he found him in the palace library, leafing through some tomes now that he had some free time, Yugo did just that, and though startled at first by the severity which his twin spoke with, the dragon still listened intently to his ramblings. Although not before leading his brother to a more secluded area in the library so as to not be overheard by their subjects.

As expected, no one understood him quite like the blue-and-white dragon. He told him everything, from his conversation with Qilby and his idea to have Amalia grow everything they needed under the guise of allowing her to reconnect with her culture, to Amalia’s eventual acceptance of the role she would play and eagerness to carry it out. He didn’t even spare any details when explaining his guilty conscience over potentially taking advantage of the Divine Doll, either, nor did he omit how grateful and relieved he felt now that things were out in the open.

Adamaï had to admit, he also felt very relieved to know his brother had come clean about his intentions and Amalia had agreed to help in turn. Beyond relieving the burden on their people’s shoulders by making their survival easier, the dragon knew how important her consent was to Yugo.

He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, for he knew his twin would vehemently deny it and outright clamp up on the subject, but it was plain to see he cared about the doll immensely. Her disapproval would affect him deeply. That much was obvious from the way his shoulders, taut with tension and stress, sagged in relief as he recounted his later conversation with her.

Therefore, besides fully believing in Amalia’s capabilities himself—it was a bit hard to be sceptical after both witnessing and being on the receiving end of her power’s full extent as he had—, he would support her, for Yugo’s sake. Although, deep down, he had to admit that this being Qilby’s idea caused him to have some reservations. While he could admit to seeing where the eldest Eliatrope was coming from, he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Despite the good he and Shinonomé did for their people, there was something about him that hadn’t been the same ever since they arrived at the World of Twelve and decided to make the planet their new home.

At least he wasn’t anywhere near as distrustful of everything and everyone as Efrim.

It was precisely the latter’s twin sister, Nora, who broke Adamaï out of his thoughts. “It was about time we gave our subjects some good news. I’m sure they will be ecstatic once we inform them of Amalia’s progress.” She called out to her brother slithering over the floor right in front of her, hope tingeing her voice. “Right, Efrim?”

The periwinkle dragon simply grunted with a shrug in response, causing an uneasy knot to tie itself in Nora’s stomach. Around them, their older siblings all braced themselves for what he was sure to say next.

“Perhaps.” The youngest dragon finally said. “Although it wouldn’t be unwise to keep an eye on her, in case we just unwittingly provided her with the perfect method to execute her true orders.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the entirety of the Council of Six visibly tensed up and unconsciously halted in their march, all turning to look at him with varying levels of concern. Some of them soon chose to mask them, even now, knowing there was nothing the youngest dragon hated more than being pitied or regarded like that. He huffed through his snout at his siblings’ reactions, unfortunately far too accustomed to them not taking his warnings seriously or treating him like he was made from glass.

Stealing a glance his sister’s way, he soon averted his gaze once more and scoffed. No matter how much she tried to hide it, his scars were nothing like Nora’s. He still studied his siblings’ expressions from the corner of his eye.

Both Qilby and Shinonomé chose not to say anything or even show any kind of reaction to his words, they just remained where they stood, with their arms crossed inside the folds of their tunics and the dragoness’ tail swaying back and forth. After them, Mina and Phaeris were the most subdued—they simply exchanged remorseful glances, with Mina shaking her head ruefully while Phaeris tucked his wings closer to himself in discomfort.

Chibi and Grougal were less in sync, though their reactions still showed their own unease at their little brother’s mistrusting nature. While Chibi audibly winced, Grougaloragran pinched the bridge of his nose with his claw, not sure what else to do. For his part, Baltazar was about to speak up in defence of the Sadida Doll, but a pointed look and the shaking of his head from Glip dissuaded him from trying, so, with a sigh, he focused back on trying to avoid crashing into anything due to his large girth.

Up ahead, panicking slightly at what Efrim said, Adamaï didn’t waste any time trying to reach out to Yugo, placing a claw over his shoulder to silently urge him to keep a cool head and not do anything rash that he might regret later. Fortunately for him, his attempts seemed to be working, for even though the Eliatrope King couldn’t help but tightly clench his fists and grit his teeth in aggravation, he held himself back from starting yet another argument with Efrim like the one from back when Amalia had just arrived at Oma.

Something told him Mina would not be as willing to break up their argument in a peaceful manner as back then. He could already picture the wakfu spear jabbed into the nearest wall in warning.

Truth be told, Yugo was torn. Torn between speaking up and standing up for the selfless creature that had been sent to them and who only wanted to help, and sticking by his sibling, especially when they all shared his concerns deep down and he wasn’t entirely without reason for thinking like that.

Not for the first time, the Eliatrope found himself with two opposing forces warring within him for dominance. Fairness opposed Loyalty. Past Experiences contradicted New Beginnings. Resentment threatened to overtake Hope.

And it all was up to him to choose who won.

But he mostly contained himself, knowing what he was going through was nothing compared to his little sister. Even if she hid it better because she picked up the rear of their little entourage, the Council of Six didn’t even need to look back to know no one was as affected by her brother’s words as Nora.

The pink-clad Eliatrope could only look on sadly at her twin’s back. The light in her otherwise playful pink eyes dimming the more she stared, his words echoing in her mind like a haunted melody. And yet, she couldn’t keep herself from sympathising with him, from understanding his concerns and even siding with him, no matter how much she wished to be able to confidently say he was wrong.

She just couldn’t. Because, just like Efrim could be wrong, he could be right, and the consequences of ignoring his warnings and brushing them off as mere paranoia wasn’t a price their people could afford to pay. Not after losing so much already.

Still, what really gnawed at Nora, what shattered her heart into a million pieces as if it were made from glass, wasn’t the fear of what could happen. But the knowledge of what did. The knowledge of what their people lost, of what she and Efrim lost.

As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the youngest Council member couldn’t help but fear they might never get it back, despite their best efforts.

Was there something worse than staring in the mirror and not recognising yourself?

It didn’t take long for her silence to draw everyone’s attention, their eyes reflecting waves of sympathy over their youngest siblings’ plight, especially Nora’s, who was saddled with dealing with her brother whenever he got into one of his moods. As a matter of fact, even Efrim himself couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder and hold his sister’s gaze, the sadness in Nora’s eyes stabbing his heart like a dagger, but he shook it off.

She’d get over it and see things from his point of view. She always did.

Golden eyes darting from one sibling to another, Grougaloragran inwardly winced. How he hated when he was forced to break up the tension. Emotions just weren’t his forte.

And so, clearing his throat awkwardly to get the Council’s attention, he lamely jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his fanged smile strained despite his best efforts to appear friendly and laid-back. “Um… Should we continue?”

After a beat where the Council of Six blinked in surprise and Shinonomé had to glare at her brother so he wouldn’t comment on the black dragon’s awkwardness, Yugo shook his head, walking past Chibi’s twin and in the direction they were headed in the first place, Adamaï close behind him as everyone else followed his lead. 

He sighed. “Yes, let’s. Amalia must be waiting for us.”

The awkward tension hanging heavily over their heads as they made the trek towards their new garden feel nothing short of torturous and endless. Seeing as Efrim still stubbornly refused to retract his previous statement or even speak up, causing a disheartened Nora to further retreat into the crevices of her own mind with each passing second, the rest of the Council decided to remain quiet as well so as to not risk stoking the flames.

Despite his apparent displeasure, Mina had intimidated Efrim into behaving as soon as they reached their destination, so he would refrain from saying anything while in the presence of the Divine Doll. As much as the mere thought of playing nice with her made his skin bristle, that was nothing compared to the way it crawled every time his older sister’s stern glare flashed through his mind.

The Twelvians were truly lucky Mina didn’t share her brothers’ battle-hungry nature—otherwise, she would be a fearsome opponent, utterly ruthless. Same with Phaeris, in fact, who preferred to lead a peaceful existence unless it was absolutely necessary.

After what felt like an eternity, Yugo finally stopped right in front of the large double doors leading to his little doll’s new playground. Despite his best efforts to hide it, the periwinkle dragon’s snout still curled into a quiet snarl before shaking it off, a puff of hot air emanating from his nostrils. Squaring his shoulders up, he readied himself for the very unpleasant times ahead.

“Well, this is it…” Yugo announced unnecessarily. With an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder from Adamaï, their king raised his hand to knock on the smooth surface of the door.

The apprehension gripping at his heart tightly somehow amplified the sound, causing the soft knocks to echo in his ears to the beat of his uneven heartbeat.

After what felt like another eternity, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, the doll’s cheery voice beckoned them from inside.

“Come on in!”

Efrim’s eyes narrowed in disgust when he took notice of the dopey smile that broke into Yugo’s face at the sound of his ‘guest’s’ voice. More so when he caught wind of the others sharing knowing, pleased glances. The only ones who remained unaffected were Qilby, Shinonomé, and, weirdly enough, Nora.

The dragon forced himself not to dwell too much on that. He knew his sister enough to understand her mind was certainly elsewhere—under any other circumstances, she would not have hesitated to tease their king for his reaction with an almost impish glee—and he wasn’t in the mood to try and dissect what troubled her.

“Well, you heard the lady!” Chibi shrugged, reaching out to grab the handles, “Let’s go!”

However, before his hands could so much as grasp the handles, the door opened on its own accord, causing everyone gathered to take a step back in surprise. The clear shock they felt remained etched onto their faces when a pair of vines revealed themselves as the ones responsible for letting them inside, their green stems waving back and forth in a cheerful greeting before gesturing for them to come in.

The surprises didn’t end there either.

The Council of Six couldn’t help the parting of their lips in astonishment with every step they took into the garden, their gazes lifted upwards as they took everything in. In a way, it still wasn’t much, certainly not the veritable jungle they had been expecting, which in itself was incredible enough, as well as ironic.

The first thing they noticed upon entering was the feeling of soft, cosy grass tickling their feet, causing them to look down and let out appreciative sounds. Indeed, where a mere two weeks prior the same room held nothing but dirt—albeit a very fertile one that took Chibi and Grougal quite some time to acquire—now was a green mantle, glistening under the afternoon sun and muffling their footsteps.

As their eyes scanned the area, they soon spotted some patches of dirt, each of them ready to begin cultivation as soon as possible. Some even had young stems peeking out from the ground, showcasing Amalia’s progress. Although, truth be told, the weirdest thing by far had to be the dug-out hole in the ground on the far end of the room; some smooth-looking, grey rocks were tidily piled up next to it.

Other than that, which was admittedly a huge improvement from how it had first been just a mere two weeks prior, there wasn’t much of notice. The only other thing worth pointing out was the fact that the vines Amalia had summoned back in the day to encircle the pillars supporting the room were now in bloom. The doll in question tended lovingly to the small, white flowers sprouting from them.

She was perched on another large vine that served as both her personal elevator and chair as she completed her task. Perking up at their arrival, a beaming grin spread all over her face as she greeted them.

“Yugo! Everyone! You guys are already here!”

Without so much as a snap of her fingers, her makeshift ladder was reabsorbed by the very earth it came from, lowering its mistress to the ground as it disappeared from sight. As soon as her feet touched the grassy floor, Amalia clasped her hands in front of her, her entire being radiating with excitement.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. “I’ve been working on getting everything ready all day.”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Lady Amalia.” Mina apologised on behalf of the Council; her tone diplomatic as she got a little closer to the doll. “As I’m sure you’ll understand, we had other pressing business to tend to before we could come here.”

Never losing her smile, though it became a little shy under the older woman’s kind gaze, Amalia waved her off. “It’s perfectly fine, Lady Mina. Yugo already told me you didn’t know when you’d be able to spare me some of your time.”

“To be honest,” Yugo chimed in, coming to stand close to her, “there was no guarantee we’d even be able to come today. We’ve all been quite busy…”

Amalia was about to retort when Glip’s mock-stern tone beat her to it, “As a matter of fact, so will you, m’Lady.”

“Baltazar must agree with his brother.” Now that he’d finally squeezed himself into the room—not without a little help from one of Nora’s portals—, Baltazar was quick to add, “Don’t think that just because you’ve been working on official business, you’re spared from handing in your homework next time you drop by the classroom.”

“No, of course not…” Amalia chuckled sheepishly, fidgeting with her fingers. She made it a point to evade her teachers’ gaze.

Truth be told, with her tending to the garden, she had forgotten all about her pending homework. She had a lot of reading and catching up to do. And a report on Eliatrope theology to hand in. One she hadn’t even started on.

“I must admit,” Qilby spoke up as he stepped deeper into the room, his hazel eyes taking everything in from behind his glasses. “I expected a bit more from you, Lady Amalia. Compared to what we have seen from you, this is simply underwhelming.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Growing protective, Yugo stepped a little closer to her, not before sending his brother a warning glare.

Scoffing petulantly at his king’s antics to himself, Qilby had just opened his mouth to protest when a light tap on his arm from Shinonomé made him close it shut. The red dragoness by-stepped her twin and closed the distance between herself and the doll, taking both of her hands in hers in a motherly gesture.

“What my brother means is that, given your natural talents, we’re a little surprised you haven’t turned this enclosure into your own tropical paradise by now.” She explained far more gently. With a smile that was meant to be reassuring, she patted the doll’s dark hands affectionately. “Of course, what you have already accomplished is still incredible. So, please, don’t be too discouraged by Qilby’s words.”

“Qilby’s got a point.” Chibi agreed, with Grougaloragran nodding along. “After what you did to your chambers, we expected something a bit… more.” They both flinched when Yugo flashed them a scandalised look. Not so much for expressing their opinion as it was about them agreeing with Qilby.

Frowning deeply at his brother’s lack of tact, Yugo was about to come to Amalia’s defence when his twin’s rich voice reverberated around the enclosure, sounding like he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Looking up in surprise, they found him flying over the room with his wings outstretched and peering down at them from up above.

Ad wasn’t one to fly for no reason, being perfectly content with walking around. So when he did take flight, it was usually because he wanted to have a more informed look on everything.

“Pay them no mind, Amalia.” He said as he flew from one place to the other, inspecting her handiwork. “You can’t rush these things. And, if you want my opinion, what you have done so far is nothing to scoff at either!”

Yugo smiled at his brother. He could always count on Adamaï to have his back, even when it included supporting a third person.

Amalia surprised everyone present when, instead of growing offended as they expected, she just laughed. Her giggles loud and clear like a bell as they bounced off the walls. Once her laughter had quieted back down, a small smirk spread over her lips and an unreadable glint in her eyes, almost like she knew something they didn’t.

“Oh, trust me,” she started, turning her back on the Council members and stepping closer to the pillar by her side, her hand outstretched as one of its flowers wrapped itself around her wrist. “This is all deliberate. If I wanted to, I could have it all done sooner than you can say ‘leaf’.”

“Then why don’t you?” Phaeris questioned, an eyebrow raised.

This time, it was Yugo who replied, “Because Sadidas prefer to let nature run its course at its own pace. If they can help it, they won't rush anything unless absolutely necessary.”

“Precisely!” Amalia perked up, smiling back at her friend. He actually remembered! Then, she added, “Besides, I already agreed to help you grow whatever you might need, but I can’t do much until you tell me what it is.” She shrugged, extracting her hand from the flower’s hold and placing both on her hips. “So I’ve been mostly buying time and getting everything ready in the meantime.”

Before any of them could question her further, she pointed at the patches of dirt they’d taken notice of before, silently answering their unsaid questions.

“So you have been preparing the ground this whole time?” Grougaloragran asked aloud. When she responded with a nod, he crossed his arms over his humanoid form, satisfied. “Grougaloragran is impressed.”

The doll preened at his praise, “Thank you.”

Efrim, who had forced himself to remain silent lest he risked saying something his siblings would make him regret—and who raised an intrigued eyebrow when he noticed the wordless conversation going on between Qilby and Shinonomé and wondered what that could even be about—almost did a double-take when Nora turned to address the doll.

She remained calm and polite, but that still was a far cry from the exuberance and mischievousness she was well-known for.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Amalia,” she rolled her eyes when she spotted Yugo’s warning look. That was more like the twin sister he knew and loved. “But have you been doing anything else?” She allowed a small, teasing grin to curl at her lips as she stared at the doll meaningfully, slowly but surely growing back into her usual self. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to tell Glip and Baltazar you’ve been slacking off if this is all you’ve been up to for two weeks.”

The aforementioned educators chuckled fondly at their sister’s joke, along with the student in question.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She answered back with a playful wink. Strutting confidently around the garden-in-process, she gestured for the Eliatropes to follow her. “Come take a look.”

Yugo didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she turned her back on them, he was standing by Amalia’s side, complimenting her on what she had done so far. While Adamaï smiled kindly at his reaction, not unlike Mina and Phaeris, Efrim had to force himself to suppress the growl that threatened to leave his throat at the pathetic display. Just a few months with them, and their king would already follow her to the ends of the world.

What was worse, he seemed to be the only one who took the situation seriously! While Adamaï, Mina, and Phaeris seemed to downright approve of their relationship, carelessly overlooking the disastrous consequences it could have, Chibi and Grougaloragran couldn’t help but snicker at their king’s demeanour, whispering among themselves about how Yugo ‘behaved like a lovesick puppy’, and seeing nothing wrong with it!

The only ones who at least pretended to remain professional were the Ivory and Crimson Dofus set of twins. But even then, Efrim knew better than to get his hopes up. Not that long ago, he and Glip had been of the same mind when it came to the doll, and now she was essentially his star pupil!

It was sickening, how she managed to manipulate them all into accepting her with nothing but a smile and an innocent act.

As for his sister…

He chanced a glance her way, but looked away before she could sense his attempts at connecting with her. He shook his head ruefully. His sister hadn’t been the same in a very long time.

Finally, the Sadida Doll stopped in front of a particular patch of grass, one located right beneath the largest windowpane in the whole enclosure, the sun’s golden rays raining directly down on it. She shook her hands in front of her and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, clearly readying herself for whatever she was about to do.

She sent them a look over her shoulder, a wry smirk on her lips. “Watch this.”

Immediately after, she slammed her hands down on the grass, coming to bend down on it, and the entire Council took a cautious step back, their guards up. Chibi, Grougal, and Adamaï in particular huddled close together for comfort. They were intimately familiar by now with the fact that things tended to get out of hand whenever Amalia’s palms were in direct contact with the ground. They did not want a repeat of their previous experiences.

However, after a beat, nothing seemed to happen. At most, the afternoon breeze coming from an open window rustled the blades of grass, momentarily disturbing the silence. In response, the Eliatrope and dragon siblings couldn’t do much else besides send each other confused glances and awkward shrugs, flabbergasted by the apparent lack of (literally) earth-shattering developments.

Chibi, who had closed his eyes shut in apprehension, tentatively opened one when he didn’t register any changes. His entire posture relaxing, he let out an audible sigh, relieved. “Phew! That was close—.”

Grougaloragran smacked his brother in the back of the head when, no sooner had the words left his mouth, a dim energy wavelength emanated from the spot Amalia was touching and expanded all over the patch of grass, followed immediately after by a small tremor that reverberated around the garden.

“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you?” The black dragon glared at his brother, huffing through his nose.

“I’m sorry…” The prophet said meekly, his shoulders slagging.

As the Ebony twins bickered, it was Mina who first took notice of something strange. For some reason, the fact that Amalia was back to her full height and beaming proudly with her hands clasped before her chest did nothing to alleviate her worries.

“Look!” She exclaimed, pointing at the grass in front of them after registering movement from the corner of her eye.

When the remaining members of the Council of Six peered over at where their sister was pointing at, they all let out small gasps of surprise at what they saw. From deep beneath the soil, a small, rag-like being literally popped out of the ground, stretching and even yawning cutely before taking notice of its captivated audience. Once it became aware of its surroundings, a beaming smile stretched over its stitched lips, and it eagerly waved at the Eliatropes and dragons before dashing forward to properly meet them.

The nearest person was Mina, so the little creature stopped right in front of her, motioning with its little, fingerless arms back and forth. The silver-haired Eliatrope could only blink in astonishment, completely dumbfounded by this little mystery’s needs.

Then it clicked.

“Oh! You want me to pick you up, little one?”

The little thing nodded resolutely, reaching out to the woman in front of it. Not like it was of much help, given Mina was over a metre and a half taller than it was. Still, she obliged, crouching down slightly to scoop the tiny thing up in her arms.

Before Yugo could so much as open his mouth to ask Amalia what was going on, the earth around them began to all but spit more rag-like creatures, all of them looking exactly the same as the one Mina had in her arms.

Each and every one of them seemed to be made from a beige, rag-like fabric. They had tiny bodies and stump-like limbs, and a comically larger head. Their eyes were white and pupilless, and a thin line stitched along the edges comprised their mouths. A big, star-shaped verdant leaf enveloped their tiny form—three leaves framed their face, while the other two hugged their midsection—, its stem curling after them like a tail.

They were as cute as they were disturbing, and, before they knew it, the Council of Six found themselves surrounded and heavily outnumbered by them.

Qilby’s hands shot up in front of his body in surrender, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “This has got to be the cutest takeover I have ever seen.” He mused aloud, earning himself a quizzical eyebrow from Glip, who brandished his staff in front of his body like a weapon.

“Really? In all our lifetimes, you can’t think of anything cuter?”

“I actually find myself drawing a blank, for once.” He admitted.  

A trap! Efrim thought to himself, alarmed. Oh, he knew they couldn’t trust that forsaken doll, let alone leave her to her own devices! If he didn’t do anything, and soon, they were about to pay the price for their complacency.

Snarling furiously at the creatures, his hate-filled gaze strained on the still smiling doll, the periwinkle dragon crouched down low, the grass tickling his softer underbelly. With his long tail coiled around him like a vicious serpent, ready to strike, he set out to unfold his wings and give himself a vantage point from which to deliver a devastating attack.

However, his actions were halted when Yugo, no doubt sensing his intentions and choosing to get in his way for whatever reason, asked, “Amalia, what are these?”

Amalia, who had her focus momentarily stolen by the intimidating young dragon’s strange behaviour, was shaken out of her thoughts by the question. Blinking rapidly, she turned back to Yugo.

“Huh?” Was her eloquent answer.

“These,” the Eliatrope King asked, gesturing down at the little creatures smiling up at him. “What are they?”

“Oh!” That seemed to do the trick. The triumphant grin back on her face, she gestured with both hands at the small army she had literally grown out of her garden. “These are my Sadida dolls. Aren’t they perfect?”

A heavy sense of bewilderment overtook the entirety of the Council, all of them looking at the Divine Doll as if she had just grown a second head. Even Efrim was too flabbergasted to stand up from his position on the floor.

“Um…forgive me if I’m wrong,” Adamaï broke the silence, coughing awkwardly into his claw, “but aren’t you a Sadida Doll?”

“I’m Sadida’s doll.” She corrected, matter-of-factly.

He nodded, at a loss. “Right, right…”

“And you created them?” Phaeris added, staring with an eyebrow raised as a few dolls climbed up his back and swung from his wings. Growing irritated, he groaned and flapped the appendages rapidly to shake them off.

“That’s right.” She nodded.

“So, you’re their mother…” Qilby muttered, only to receive a shake of her head from Amalia.

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’.

“But you just said you’re Sadida’s doll, and we all know he is your father.” Chibi commented, struggling to follow the conversation.

“Father created me as my own being, therefore, he is my father. Sadidas sew their own dolls and are synchronised with them, but they are not their parents.”

“Synchronised…?” Glip could already feel his head spinning.

“Um, Lady Amalia?” Shinonomé called out to her. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to explain what’s going on. Whatever it is that… this is, clearly eludes us.”

With a patient smile and a nod, the Divine Doll gestured at the Eliatrope Council to take a seat. The latter exchanged confused glances, assuming she meant they sat down on the ground, but they all collectively yelped when each of them was suddenly scooped up by a series of large flowers, their petals arranged so they’d resemble armrests. The only exception was Baltazar who, due to his sheer size in his dragon form, limited himself to contently laying down on the grass with a shrug.

Amalia herself reclined back in the human-sized rosebud she’d summoned with a flick of her wrist. She was surrounded by several of her dolls as she spoke:

“Sadidas are known for their animated dolls.” She started, playing absentmindedly with one of the rag creatures on her lap. “As you can probably guess, it all started as a way to honour Sadida’s creation of his Divine Dolls.”

“Yeah, but… They don’t look anything like you…” Chibi interrupted, earning himself nods of assent from some of the other council members.

“Are you sure?” Amalia shot back, a playful smirk on her lips.

The black-wearing Eliatrope had a very good inkling that it’d be rude to just gesture at the doll’s general direction to bring attention to her very human-looking body as way of answer. So, he pursed his lips in a thin line and simply nodded. “Mm-hmmm…”

Never losing her wry smile but not saying a word either, the Divine Doll simply raised an eyebrow. Then, she disappeared behind a puff of smoke. When the wisps dissipated, in her place was the same dark rag doll they saw in the throne room back when Master Joris ‘introduced’ himself only to eventually extend them an invitation to Bonta.

Now that she was standing beside the other dolls, she turned out to be barely taller than them, and only because of the tuft of green hair on top of her head giving her a few extra centimetres on them.

While Chibi gaped, it was Grougal by his side who voiced his thoughts, “Grougaloragran forgot she could do that…”

Meanwhile, Mina had brought her hands to her face, while Yugo was pinching the bridge of his nose in second-hand embarrassment. The rest of their siblings were trying to contain their laughter at the Ebony Twins’ expense with varying degrees of success. Except for Efrim, who grumbled quietly to himself and burrowed himself deeper into the flower’s folds.

Giggling at their reaction, another puff of smoke enveloped Amalia, bringing back her mahogany curves, and luscious emerald hair. “If you think we Sadida Dolls don’t look alike, Chibi, you should see my older sisters.”

“Huh?”

“Father got better the more he practised.” She explained simply.

“Anyway,” Yugo cut in, desperate to move the conversation along and not to have his siblings embarrassing themselves in front of their guest further. “You were explaining why you created your own dolls, Amalia.”

“Oh! That’s right.” She got a little more comfortable in her seat. “As I was saying, doll crafting became a crucial part of Sadida culture. In fact, alongside nature itself, dolls are a Sadida’s best weapons.”

“Weapons?” Efrim echoed, alarmed. He narrowed his gaze in suspicion on the ragdoll standing at the end of his tail. Squeaking in fright, it immediately scurried off, the dragon’s intense gaze terrifying it to the core. “So, you’re saying these little dolls can actually cause harm?”

Amalia wasn’t faring much better than the doll. If she could, she would be running away from Efrim’s questioning, too. But she didn’t have that luxury.

Swallowing the scared whimper that threatened to leave her throat with an audible gulp, she stammered, “Y-yeah. Th-that’s a way of putting it, I suppose…”

“Explain.” He leaned closer in his seat, his interest (and suspicion) piqued. In the meantime, a quivering Amalia couldn’t help but wonder who anyone was able to make a single word sound like the most threatening of orders.

“Efrim.” Yugo hissed, a blue warning flashing through his eyes. Even Mina was sending him a stern look to get him to ease up on their guest. But their younger brother just ignored them, his focus strained on the squirming Sadida Doll.

“It’s… Um, it’s as I said.” She tried; her voice tremulous under Efrim’s unforgiving scrutiny. “Thanks to the magic used while crafting them, Sadida Dolls are synchronised with their owners, hence, they obey their every wish and command and reflect their masters’ physical state.”

“And that makes them weapons?” He pressed on, like a Bow Wow with a bone.

“Efrim.” Phaeris groaned. Chibi and Grougal were discreetly shaking their heads for the periwinkle dragon to stop.

“Erm, no. What allows them to serve as weapons is their very nature as animated ragdolls. Since they’re not technically alive, they can take hits meant for their master without suffering any real damage, just like they also serve for a wide variety of purposes.”

“What purposes?” Qilby perked up, glad to finally have something to become invested in amidst Efrim’s thinly disguised questioning of the Sadida demigoddess.

“Qilby!” Shinonomé chided her twin, flashing him an incredulous look. She rolled her eyes until they reached the back of her head when all he could do to defend himself was shrug defensively.

Amalia squirmed in her seat, her mouth dry. She was just about to reply when Yugo leaned over and placed his hand on top of hers, smiling at her softly, reassuringly.

Immediately, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You don’t have to answer, Amalia. Qilby,” he glared at the bespectacled Eliatrope over his shoulder, “is just being his overly curious, overly annoying self. Don’t pay him any mind.”

“I resent that…” The overly curious and annoying Eliatrope in question mumbled, crossing his arms childishly.

The sincerity, warmth, and care reflected in Yugo’s dark brown eyes was enough to make Amalia want to melt into a puddle of goo, her heart fluttering in her ribcage at the out he was giving her, knowing his family was making her uncomfortable.

Her eyes fell to the ground.

As easy as it would be, she couldn’t take that out. It wouldn’t be right. It was her who had summoned the Council of Six to her garden in order to show them her progress, especially what she’d accomplished with her dolls. She owed it to them, to Yugo, and to herself to see this through, regardless of how uncomfortable Efrim’s attitude towards her was making her feel.

“It’s okay, Yugo. Thanks.” She told him softly, giving his hand a soft squeeze before letting go. “I was planning on telling you guys about it anyway.”

She had to keep her smile from widening when she noticed Yugo hadn’t returned to his seat but had come to stand protectively beside her. Even if she knew it was out of loyalty to his twin, she still felt grateful when Adamaï took his place on the other side of her.

She cooled her features into a calm, confident expression. “To answer your question, Qilby, Sadida dolls aren’t just great at taking hits meant for others, they can also harmlessly inhale toxic substances, grow in size, cushion falls…”

“Sounds like the Sadida equivalent of a Sram army knife.” Nora noted sarcastically, amused. She had to force herself to ignore the betrayed look her twin was sending her for daring to treat the Divine Doll cordially, as well as the pang of pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Wait until I grow the explosive ones!” Amalia laughed, already thinking about all the possibilities laid before her. She was so enthralled in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the scandalised looks from everyone around her.

“…I’m sorry, what?” Adamaï, who had picked one of the dolls up and had been playing with it, asked, dumbfounded. In his unease, he absentmindedly dropped the doll to the floor. Upon hitting the grass, the offended little creature began to wave its fist frantically in his direction and demand an apology from him.

While Ad raised his claws up in surrender at the irate doll, Amalia went on, undeterred, “As I’m sure you can imagine, their versatility, combined with the fact that they obey their master without question, as I already said, makes them extremely useful assets.”

“That goes without question.” Glip agreed, leaning forward with his clasped hands over his knees. “But the better question is, why did you craft them, my Lady?”

That was the question running through everyone’s minds, even Yugo’s. But especially Efrim’s. It was undeniable that there was something very suspicious about what was essentially the god’s peace offering making her own weapons, ones she had just openly admitted were a force to be reckoned with.

Moreover, ones that, due to their very nature, would obey only her, and hence, served no real purpose to the Eliatrope race.

Amalia’s explanation, how she wanted to remain a little closer to her Sadida roots by following one of their most sacred customs as per Yugo’s suggestion, did nothing to alleviate the young dragon’s worries. Quite the contrary, he could feel the pit in his stomach growing deeper and deeper with every second that passed.

She talked about her divine father and sisters and her time in Inglorium. About how, despite his previous feat at literally creating life all by himself, Sadida himself was extremely reluctant to craft any more dolls, even if they weren’t divine—which had to be about the only thing Efrim could believe, judging from the commotion the Leafy God’s youngest child’s birth had caused since the sister preceding her had been born centuries earlier. And how she remembered her sister Dathura—the aforementioned sister that preceded her—had her own horde of loyal dolls she created herself.

He didn’t need Qilby and Shinonomé’s divine gift to know that had to be the flimsiest excuse he had ever heard. As far as he was concerned, manufacturing weapons wasn’t an appropriate way to deal with homesickness!

(Unless you were a Rogue, as he would learn later on).

The whole thing reeked of ulterior motives, and it was becoming damn near impossible to keep himself from roaring in outrage and lunging himself at the Divine Doll to put an end to her machinations once and for all. He was already losing his grip on his worst impulses, if the furious flicking of his long tail was any indication.

But that was nothing compared to how powerless he felt when his siblings chose to remain blind to the clear signs of something sinister going on beneath the surface. Instead, they insisted on giving the doll chances to redeem herself, even though, not that long ago, they would not have hesitated to put an end to their enemy’s misery if it meant protecting their people by any means necessary.

It was as if they simply refused to see what was right under their noses right until the very moment it bit them in the arse.

Somehow, the fact that it was Qilby and Shinonomé who seemed the most understanding of her after Yugo and Adamaï hurt even more. How could they? What happened to their divine gift, the very same one they never stopped alluding to whenever they had the chance? Did they suddenly not remember all the hardships and horrors their people had gone through during the war?

“My, Lady Amalia. You have quite a way to keep your origins close to your heart.” Qilby chuckled airily, leaning back on his seat and adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

“Indeed. It’s not every day we hear of people crafting weapons to deal with their homesickness.” The red dragoness added, her tail resting on her lap leisurely.

“That’s because you have yet to meet the Rogues.” Amalia pointed out, taking everyone aback by the casualness of her answer. “The only thing they love more than making bombs and setting up ambushes to rob people blind is their family.”

Yugo leaned closer to his twin. “Ad, remind me to never accept an invitation to a family dinner in a Rogue’s home if I can help it.” He whispered.

“Ditto.”

“So, that’s the only reason you’ve been working on your dolls?” Chibi pressed on, examining a doll that had been playfully tugging at his hood closely. As a fellow master craftsman—even if his interests lay elsewhere—, he had to admit they were extremely good quality. And the fact that they were so full of life and yet decidedly not alive was beyond incredible. He flashed an unreadable look at Amalia from underneath his lashes. “To add a little bit of Sadida to your, as of late, Eliatrope-centric existence?”

Smiling softly to herself, growing bashful all of a sudden, Amalia brought a hand to her heart. A sudden prayer to her father to give her strength and help her steel her resolve as she admitted the other reason her little passion project had almost entirely taken over while she waited for further instructions from the Council.

“Truth be told,” she started, her gaze locking with the Eliatrope King’s warm, brown eyes, her grin widening, unbidden. “I actually wanted to contribute to your kingdom in any way I can.”

“But Lady Amalia, Baltazar doesn’t understand. Isn’t this garden supposed to be of help to us in the first place?” The beige dragon pointed out, perking up from his position on the ground. His diminutive wings likewise flattered, a clear sign of his curiosity. “Why would you need to craft your own Sadida dolls, too?”

“Because just like with this garden,” she gestured around, “this way, I feel like I can take on a more active role as I help you gain the Twelvians’ acceptance.”

“By providing us with weapons?” Phaeris found himself asking, sharing a look with his sister. And baring his sharp canines at the dolls that still tried to climb him like some mere monkey bars.

“In case any nation feels especially disinclined to welcoming you.” She retorted, a shadow passing over her features even as she remained the perfect picture of poise and calmness. “By leading my dolls or ordering them to listen to you and your soldiers, your people would gain a new line of defence; one they most likely would not have been expecting.”

Efrims’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when Nora said, “Amalia, you really don’t have to go this far for us…”

As the young dragon could only watch the scene, hopelessness and deep-seated resentment taking root in his heart, that forsaken doll had the nerve to smile warmly and gratefully at her, before glancing up at Yugo, her intentions so clear, they could hardly be called hidden.

“You’ve already done so much for me, Nora. Trust me, this is the least I can do.”

Efrim couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, he slithered out of his seat and dashed out of the door, ignoring his siblings’ calls and questions. But in his haste, he had missed how Nora’s eyes were trained on him, observing his every move. They had been since they agreed on visiting the garden that same morning, in fact.

The pink light of her irises dimming in sadness and regret, Nora pulled her mask up and averted her gaze, not wanting anyone to notice the stray tear streaming down her cheek. 

................................................................................................................

Nighttime used to be her favourite part of the day because of the quiet it brought. Well, her favourite part of the day after morning, when the sound of their native world’s birds singing would rouse her from her sleep and make her jump from her bed to kickstart her duties and encourage the rest of their people to abandon Draconiros’ realm and welcome the new day. And after noon, when everyone would gather around the table and feast on the chefs’ mouthwatering cooking while they recounted their daily misadventures, their bellies full and their hearts even fuller. And after the evening, when the sun’s dying rays would shine down on them, the lazy comfort it brought providing a much-needed respite from their hectic days. And dinner time wasn’t nothing to scoff at either…

Thinking back, she used to love a lot of things.

Now, however?

Now she couldn’t be bothered to find the strength to show genuine interest for anything other than her duties and spending some time with her siblings. And even that could be emotionally and physically taxing after a while. Some days she had to force herself to tease Yugo over his refusal to admit his feelings for Amalia lest she risked they noticed something amiss with her.

She couldn’t decide whether it was all because she was on a different planet and needed time to adjust, or if she was the one who was different. It was even harder to accept she might never be the same.

When she first noticed the changes, the vast expanse of the Krosmoz was her unfailing companion, its stars as endless as the doubts plaguing her mind after the war. Suddenly, her people had to find warmth and comfort in the small things, mainly in each other, instead of turning to their Joybringer for help.

Not like she would have been of much help in the first place.

Seemingly overnight, she went from brimming with life, fluttering around to see how she could be of help with her twin dragon in tow, to quiet and withdrawn. Lifeless. Pretty much like their homeworld after it had been ravaged by the horrors they endured. Her siblings, noticing her abrupt change in demeanour, tried reaching out to her, asking if she was okay or if there was anything they could do to help.

She always replied the same:

“I’m fine.”

But one night, or day, or mid-afternoon snack, or even week—it was hard to tell the time with no dawn or sunset—, after another fitful sleep that left her even more tired than when she first laid down to rest; the truth became impossible to ignore.

She was not fine.

Perhaps the fact that her usual cheerfulness and joie de vivre had been overwhelmed by panic, uncertainty, and the will to survive, tempered with her ability to sense it all sooner—the adrenaline coursing through her veins and fuelling her every waking moment shielding her from the effects of her own mental and physical exhaustion—, but she certainly didn’t remember feeling like this ever before. She could have always asked Qilby if there had been a point in their lives where something similar had happened, but she would essentially be admitting something was wrong with her, after all. The sole possibility scared her more than whatever answer Qilby might have provided.

But as soon as surviving stopped being their driving force?

It was as if she had left her soul back on their home planet.

In a way, she had. They all had.

They had essentially left their lives behind.

After a while, she gave up trying to look for answers to her new emotional state. Most of the time she even gave up trying to get some rest—sleep was always eluding her, anyway. So, she settled for spending her nights in quiet contemplation, her eyes, the colour of the Stasis emanating from their father’s almost ethereal form, fixated on the stellar mantle above her head, her thoughts lost in its infinite abyss. Her bed, untouched. If she was lucky, exhaustion would eventually win the battle, causing her to fall into a restless slumber right where she was, with her arms laying across her lap, her back leaned against her window frame while she was perched on the windowsill with one knee close to herself and her other leg stretched out.

And if she didn’t fall asleep… Well, there were some perks to no longer being able to fulfil your duty as your people’s Joybringer; you got to fall asleep wherever and whenever you wanted.

She only had to be careful not to fall asleep during a Council meeting, lest she risked alerting her siblings of her current state. Now wasn’t the time to worry over something as silly as her insomnia.

Of course, there was one sibling she could never hide anything from. Just like his attempts at keeping her in the dark would always be futile.

She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know he was there. Even without the soft sound of his landing inside her room announcing his presence, she would always be able to tell where he was.

“We need to talk.”

Straight to business as always, huh? She honestly didn’t know if the fact that he had changed too should bring a small consolation to her or make her fall deeper into despair.

“Hello to you too, Efrim.” She deadpanned; her pale eyelids shut. “How are you this fine evening?”

“I’m serious, Nora. We need to talk.”

“When aren’t you serious?” She scoffed. With a sigh, she slid her legs over to the side until they were firmly planted on the cold, polished stone of her floor, and hoisted herself up to properly talk to her twin.

Her ivory skin shining under the moonlight while her robes hid her body from sight, the pink of her eyes seemed to shine brightly in the dark. Her gaze as piercing and hypnotic as a Meow Meow’s as it settled on the dragon.

“So? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“It’s about the doll.” Efrim cut straight to the chase, paying no mind to his twin’s usual sense of sarcasm.

���Why am I not surprised you’d want to interrupt my beauty sleep over that?” She muttered, moving past her twin and towards a small corner of her room. Close to her window but standing on the opposite side to her door, were two wicker loveseats surrounding a small coffee table. A remnant from Nora’s past self, from when she would welcome anyone into her room just to chat amicably between friends; a fragment of herself she chose to keep even now that the only person who visited her room regularly was Efrim.

And usually just to complain. Right as he was about to do.

Really, it was the same song and dance they’d been doing since Amalia arrived. She’d be a fool not to see where he was trying to get at the moment he slithered into her room.

But ranting was Efrim’s way of escaping his own demons, so she let him rant his little heart out. And after today’s events at the garden, she knew he especially needed it.

“Don’t give me that, Nora.” He called her out on her flimsy excuse. A rare, amused smile graced the Turquoise Twins’ lips at the familiarity of their good-natured teasing. It was a small comfort. “We both know you have the sleeping schedule of an owl.”

“Maybe, but I’m still the prettiest owl you’ll ever meet.” She winked at him over her shoulder.

She turned around before taking a seat in one of the loveseats, gesturing with her hand for Efrim to do the same. Despite the exasperated roll of his eyes, the dragon still obliged her, his tail curling around the small sofa. He looked down sceptically at the table, his head tilted.

“No tea and pastries?” He snarked, flashing his sister an unimpressed look, though his smirk betrayed his true feelings.

She shrugged, “I can’t possibly call Serviette over to bring me some snacks in the middle of the night. Now, can I?”

“Last time I checked, out of the two of us you’re the twin who can create portals to move from one place to another…” He pointed out, lazily resting his head over his claw in amusement.

“And last time I checked,” she shot back, her expression morphing into a mock-pout that barely managed to conceal her mirth. “It’s rude to intrude upon others’ chambers in the middle of the night without warning.”

“As if you need to be told beforehand of when I’ll be dropping by…”

Nora blew a raspberry at him.

Efrim just raised his claws up in surrender. “All I’m saying is you’ve lost your touch, Sister; you used to be a much better hostess—.”

He tried cutting himself off the moment his words registered in his mind, mentally kicking himself at his slip up while praying Nora hadn’t been paying attention to him. His heart sank when he realised she very much had, all traces of mirth gone from her face, having been replaced by the quiet melancholy he had seen etched onto her face countless nights now.

A kind of melancholy he was powerless to get rid of for her.

“What was it that you wanted to discuss, Efrim?” Now she was the one cutting to the chase, bringing her cloak closer to herself for comfort.

Another thing that changed was their relationship. While still close as only an Eliatrope and her dragon twin could be, what once was endless laughter and camaraderie now could only be described as profoundly bittersweet, marked by the kind of bond only tragedy could forge between two people and constant pangs of pain resonating to their very core. It was akin to the feeling of constantly cutting yourself while picking up pieces of broken glass.

Only the broken glass once was themselves.

As much as Efrim wanted to reach out to his twin sister and apologise, to offer some words of comfort, he ultimately decided against it. Whenever Nora was reminded of what she’d lost, even if she would rather eat her own hat rather than admit anything was bothering her, she tended to close herself off and detach herself from the world going on around her.

It was a miracle she seemed willing to hear him out still, instead of teleporting him away outright, but then again, she never really kicked him out, no matter how bad things got. They both needed each other as much as a dying man needed salvation.

So, with a shake of his head, he forced himself to focus back on the reason why he came to his twin’s room in the middle of the night in the first place. The doll.

“I don’t trust her.” He said at last, his voice low and serious.

“What else is new?” Nora couldn’t help but snark at his expense, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She came to instantly regret it when her brother just grew more defensive.

“Would you just stop?!” He hissed, his tail coiling further around the loveseat in aggravation, not unlike how a snake would curl around its prey until it suffocated; its tip shaking like a rattle. “This is serious, Nora!”

Rather than dignify his small outburst with a verbal answer, the pink-clad Eliatrope simply motioned for him to continue. Her pink eyes could only follow his form as he all but jumped out of his chair, his serpent-like appendage acting like a spring and propelling him forward. He began pacing frantically in front of her—if one could even pace around without actual legs, that is.

“She’s up to no good, I just know it!” He started, his arms flailing around dramatically as he tried to rationalise the direction their lives had taken ever since arriving on the World of Twelve. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would the twelve gods go out of their way to send us the personification of their blessing to stay in their world, especially when their own followers clearly don’t want us here?

“They’re gods! They’re supposed to look after their followers’ best interests above all else! Instead, they’ve essentially put us before the Twelvians…” He shook his head, gripping at it tightly with his claws as the beginnings of a pounding headache overtook him from trying to make sense of it all. “Mother would have never chosen outsiders over us, her children! She loved us more than anything; she would have never abandoned us!”

At the mention of their mother, both Turquoise Dofus twins momentarily stopped and locked eyes before they couldn’t take it anymore and had to look away. Swallowing thickly, overcome with emotion, Efrim’s voice cracked as he spoke of her. “S-she…she didn’t…  she wouldn’t…” He swallowed again, his mouth dry and his eyes watery, “She would have never willingly parted from us… She just wouldn’t!”

Fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes—not helped by Nora’s own misty-eyed expression and the clear sounds of her attempts at stifling her own sobs—he went on. He did his best to remain strong and laser-focused on getting his point across, though it was plain to see he remained anything but stoic.

“And even if they indeed just wanted to help us… Why now? Why didn’t they do anything to stop the Mechasms and prevent the war? Surely the combined might of the Krosmoz’s gods would have been enough to put an end to our suffering. But they’re not our gods, they never were. In their eyes, they had no obligation, moral or otherwise, to care about our survival.

“So why would they suddenly go so far as to create an entirely new Divine Doll just for us—with everyone and their mother on this forsaken planet mentioning how rare and special they are—, with  the ‘sole’ purpose of making it easier for their worshippers to welcome us into their home? And why create a Divine Doll, of all things? Surely there must be easier ways to give your blessing other than creating a young woman from scratch only to ship her away immediately after her birth…”

Somewhere along the middle of his rant, the young dragon had forgotten to breathe, too overwhelmed by the many thoughts and questions running through his mind to pay much attention to anything other than getting the words out and out of his system. It didn’t take long for his anxiousness to catch up to him, however, for he now found himself breathing shallowly, his inhaling coming out much more laboured than his exhaling.

A soft, warm hand helped his body slow down, his heaving coming off as less frantic than just a second ago. As his breathing still wasn’t quite back to normal, Nora began to rub gentle circles around his back, her touch a powerful reminder of her presence and her commitment to being there for her twin brother whenever he needed it.

Not once stopping her ministrations, she began to gently guide Efrim through some breathing exercises, her voice barely above a whisper:

“Easy there, Brother. You’re going to accomplish what the Mechasms couldn’t if you keep this up.” She joked lightly to ease up the tension. Furrowing her brow when that didn’t get much of a reaction out of him, she grew more serious. She leaned in closer to him to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to need you to follow my lead, Efrim. Can you do that?”

That earned her a weak nod in response.

“Very good. Now, take a deep breath with me,” she inhaled, deliberately slow, and he copied her actions, “and now, let it all out slowly.” She exhaled, and so did he. “That’s right, you’re doing great. Now, again, take a deep breath,” they repeated the action, “and let it all out…” And again.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there like that, just taking calming breaths and their actions synchronised. In and out, over and over again. Eventually, the dragon’s breathing was back to normal, and he sent his sister a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” He breathed out.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled back, before her expression sobered up. “You really oughta start being more careful, Brother. Shinonomé warned you about your panic attacks.”

“I know, I know…” He waved her off. “It’s just… How am I supposed to react to this, to her?”

“You could try giving her a chance? Glip was initially just as wary of her and look at him now! He treats her just like any student. Maybe you—" Nora tried, only to be harshly interrupted by her twin swirling around to face her, his dark blue eyes glinting dangerously and causing her to pull her hand away in surprise.

“All he did was give her a chance to worm her way into his defences!” The dragon snapped, weeks of deep-seated resentment over Glip’s perceived weakness coming to the surface with a vengeance. “Don’t you think the events leading up to his change in demeanour are kind of suspicious?”

“What do you mean?” She asked despite herself, the ears of her hat standing in high alert; she brought her hand back into the folds of her robes.

The periwinkle dragon wasted no time in listing off the events taking place that day.

“First, she requests she be allowed to go to his and Baltazar’s class; then she turns out to have been listening and learning about our history and culture long before she even made said request; she effortlessly earned the children’s adoration; and, on her very first day, a little girl has a near fatal accident she just so managed to prevent.” His words were dripping with sarcasm the more he spoke, his snout curling into a sardonic smile before it turned into a vicious sneer. “Don’t you see, Nora? Everything that happened that day was a deliberate attempt to gain his trust!”

Nora actually gasped in horror when he shook his head in disgust and muttered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she deliberately put Lori’s life in danger just to make herself look like a hero…”

“Efrim!” She hissed, scandalised he would even think such a thing.

After the war, Nora could no longer bring herself to see the best in everyone like she used to, which was why, while she wasn’t above riling Yugo up over his relationship with her and the fact that she was undeniably beautiful—and totally her type—, Nora chose to remain mostly neutral towards Amalia. While she remained cautious, having learned from example, she ultimately understood only time would tell her true intentions.

But for some reason, she just couldn’t picture the beaming doll she’d seen laughing with her brother on her balcony and becoming starry-eyed over every little thing doing something as heinous as knowingly endangering a child to serve her own purposes.

“C-come on, Efrim…” She tried to reach out to her twin, her voice wobbly. “Don’t you think that’s a little too harsh? After all, Yugo is practically glued to her side, and he seems to trust her—” Once again, the pink-eyed Eliatrope was cut off by her dragon twin’s unforgiving rebuttals.

“Yugo is blind, Sister!” He snapped, his voice, sharp and stern, echoing around the walls. Immediately, Nora realised he had to be in a very agitated state, for his crystalline wings involuntarily unfolded around him, glinting in the moonlight. But rather than the beautiful display she was used to, now it only made him look bigger, more intimidating.

It only highlighted the beast he had been forced to become. 

She idly wondered if that was the last thing his enemies saw during the war before he put an end to their lives.

Efrim himself was too out of it to notice his own accidental shapeshifting, so he simply spat, though not any less venomously. “You and I both know—Shukrute, we all know! — that, regardless of what he tells himself to sleep at night, he is absolutely smitten with that doll! Our fearless king is reduced to nothing but a lovesick Bow Wow whenever she is around! Her every wish is his command, and we’re all going to pay dearly for his weakness.”

“While it’s true Yugo has grown particularly close to her despite his initial reservations,” Nora reluctantly admitted, knowing her twin had a point—no matter how much Yugo tried to deny it. “He is still our king; we must have faith in him and his decisions. Besides, it’s not like he holds all the power. Don’t forget, Efrim, together, all of us form the Council of Six. If any one of us had anything to say on the matter, Yugo would no doubt listen to us.��

“Except we already told him our concerns and he brushed them off, remember?” He pointedly reminded her, his mind tracing back to those meetings soon after the doll arrived, and she asked to be taught by the Ivory Twins.

“From the very beginning, Glip and I were against the doll staying with us, but Yugo insisted we just couldn’t kick her out because it could offend the gods and lead to us getting into heaps of trouble. And when she requested to become Baltazar and Glip’s student, Glip was vehemently against it, but Yugo essentially strong-armed him into accepting because he just can’t say no to his little flower!”

“And look at how that turned out!” Nora exclaimed, opening a portal to close the distance between herself and her brother, her hand gently cupping the side of his snout, begging him to listen to her; to try and understand. “Glip came to realise he was wrong about her and now treats her like any of his students.”

She had to stifle a frustrated groan when Efrim countered, “She manipulated him into accepting her, you mean. You forget the circumstances revolving that day are far too convenient for her to be a mere coincidence. And all because Yugo allowed for it to happen…” He grumbled, shaking his head in distaste.

“And you forget it wasn’t just Yugo who insisted Glip gave her a chance!” Nora shot back, growing frustrated with her dragon twin. “Baltazar, for starters, was just as willing to welcome Amalia in as Glip was unwilling to, and I don’t see you trying to claim Amalia somehow won him over as well.”

“Because I don’t need to!” He all but screeched, throwing his arms to the sides in exasperation. “That’s the worst part! It’s not that Yugo’s clearly fallen for that doll’s siren song, or even that she’s managed to turn Glip away from his most primal instincts, but the fact that the rest of you refuse to see anything wrong with her!”

“The rest of… us?” She echoed with a small voice, hurt by the fact that Efrim seemed to think she didn’t have his back. But he just went on, not sparing her a second glance.

“Just like earlier; somehow you think it’s a good idea to entrust what’s essentially a Sadida demigoddess, a creature whose power over nature is second only to her divine father, with her own garden. And you don’t even suspect it might come back to bite you.” He scoffed derisively, letting out a sarcastic, mirthless chuckle.

The young dragon was far too out of it to notice, but Nora watched with concerned, pink eyes when his wings began trembling, letting out a buzzing sound not unlike an insect. She flinched, unconsciously taking a step forward to try and offer some comfort—Efrim’s wings only acted like that when he was in a very distressed emotional state.

“She’s literally created nigh-unstoppable weapons only she can control, Nora!” He pressed on, finally taking flight and coming to hover over his twin as he looked her dead in the eye. “And you don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Amalia says her Sadida Dolls are her way of offering her help in case we’re ever under attack.” Nora pointed out, but her voice sounded distant, distracted, and not entirely convinced herself.

“And you believed her.” Efrim deadpanned. He shook his head with a sneer. “She’s putting a knife to our throats and you’re actually thanking her for it!”

“How can you be so sure Yugo hasn’t taken everything into account, Efrim?” She challenged, refusing to stand down even as her brother was literally looming over her. “Don’t you remember? Yugo said we could use this opportunity to learn more about the Twelvians and stay ahead of the game if they ever declare war against us.” She made a show of shrugging, though her words were purposeful and irrefutable, “Today we’ve learned Sadidas fight using enchanted, animated dolls; wouldn’t you count that as an advantage?”

“We’ll need much more than that if we want to survive whatever that doll and this world’s gods have planned for us, Sister.” He told her ominously, a puff of smoke coming out of his nostrils.

The Turquoise Twins remained like that, locked into a staring contest, for what felt like an eternity. Despite the intensity in their eyes, all each of them wanted was for the other to try and see their point of view. Each passing day, Nora grew increasingly worried over her twin’s transformation, how he went from cautious but kind and welcoming to paranoid and hostile. Efrim, on the other hand, was desperate for his sister to move on from the uncaring funk the loss of their world had awakened within her and open her eyes to the truth.

And the truth was, the Divine Doll just couldn’t be trusted.

Eventually, the fire in the young dragon’s dark blue eyes flickered practically out of existence, being reduced to nothing but a tired spark. His guarded expression morphing into quiet resignation, he finally averted his gaze, letting out a heavy sigh as he rested his head against his claw.

A small gasp leaving her, Nora was about to reach out and try to console her twin brother when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“I love you, Nora, more than anything. And I know you love me too.” The look he sent her was enough to break her heart in two. “I’d just wish you would listen to me for once.”

And with that and one last flap of his wings, he dashed out of her still open window, leaving Nora alone in the darkness. A few seconds ticked by where the Eliatrope just remained where she was, motionless, her expression one of shock. And then, unable to stop herself, she choked out a broken sob, falling to her knees as she cried into her palms.

Not that long ago, she and Efrim rarely argued. Their siblings would admit to being jealous of their close, unbreakable bond. Their days would be spent laying down on the grass and lazily drawing shapes from the clouds above or gathering flowers to make crowns to gift their subjects to. They would laugh, and joke, and sing, and lead dances in the middle of the main square. During festivals, while the religious aspects fell within Mina’s jurisdiction, the youngest Primordial Twins would lead their people into the actual festivities, organising games and banquets, and just doing about everything in their power to make the subjects they loved so much feel as happy, lucky, and content with their lives as they felt.

The war changed all that. Now the Eliatropes’ Joybringers couldn’t find it in themselves to feel any joy, let alone share it with everybody else. And their dependence on each other had become as much of a comfort as it was a wound they kept reopening whenever they interacted.

Yes, even since the war, things had changed. For everyone, herself included. In fact, maybe she was the first to change. But nothing had changed quite like Efrim did. 

....................................................................................................................

He could still vividly remember the curious smiles plastered on their children’s faces at the arrival of their new neighbours. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said it was only the children that were ecstatic by the fact that they finally had someone to share their world with. It was as if their mother had finally answered her children’s pleas.

Make no mistake, under the Eliatrope Goddess’ care, her followers never wanted for anything. Food and water were plentiful; under the Council of Six’s guidance, their civilisation thrived; they lived in perfect harmony with nature; and the Eliatropes never knew famine, corruption, pestilence, or war…

The one thing their mother failed to provide them with were companions they could learn from and share their ways with, however. The Eliatropes were the only sapient beings on their home planet, and though that wasn’t without its perks, over the course of the centuries, they found themselves wishing for more, their curiosity for the many wonders beyond the frontiers of their world growing more powerful by the day. Harder to ignore.

Needless to say, there was much rejoicing when the Mechasms arrived, looking for a place to call home. Naturally, they were welcomed with open arms, for the Eliatropes had never known ‘stranger danger’.

That was a lesson that was bound to be etched onto the very fabric of their race’s history.

Against all odds, at first, everything was even better than it had been when the portal-making race still lived by itself. It didn’t take long for Eliatropes and Mechasms to form an almost symbiotic bond. The latter used their vast powers to improve the Eliatropes’ already almost idyllic lives, while the former didn’t just offer the Mechasms a place to stay, but they showed them the secrets of their own magic.

For years, it was a match made in Inglorium. If asked, any Eliatrope would immediately sing the Mechasms’ praises, for that deep was their respect and admiration for their new (and not-so-new) neighbours. Whereas the Mechasms, mysterious as they could be, were nothing but gentle and supportive when it came to the wakfu-wielding people.

One race was the other’s fervent supporter, while the other was the other’s staunchest defender.

Which made their betrayal all the more devastating.

The day the Mechasms betrayed them completely out of nowhere wasn’t just the day the Mechasm War started; it was also the day the Eliatropes had their hearts broken for the very first time in their millennia-long history.

Soon, horrified screams replaced giddy laughter. The images of terrified children crying their little eyes out as they desperately called for their parents—who might not even be alive anymore—were burned into his brain. The happy memories where those same children’s favourite game was climbing up the Mechasms’ huge, but ultimately harmless, forms reduced to cinders by that same fire. 

But the one memory that was fundamentally changed was that of their attackers; gone was the warm, grateful feeling that used to spread all over his chest concerning the foreign race, now all that was left was seething hatred whenever he thought back to their lifeless, uncaring eyes as they massacred his people. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe the vile monster ravaging their land with his armies was the same kind and caring Prince Orgonax who used to be so beloved by everyone. Now he could only reminisce on the bitter hatred and bloodlust reflected in his glowing eyes whenever he thought back to him, a shiver going down his spine at the memories.

Their skies turned red from the wanton destruction going on underneath, while rivers of blood streamed down the desolate land. Everywhere he looked, all he could see were flashes of blue and red clashing against each other, until one of the two colours all but vanished. He remembered cheering to himself whenever it was the red flash that died out, and his eyes stinging as he fought to suppress broken sobs from tearing from his throat when it was the blue light that flickered out first.

And yet, nothing was more heartbreaking than the silence, even amidst the chaos and bloodshed. For the first time ever since the Crimson Twins could remember, the loving, nurturing echo at the back of his head he had been hearing since birth was silent. Their Mother’s voice was gone, his connection to Her all but lost. 

He had never felt so hopeless in his life. And if he couldn’t hope, then did his people have a future at all?

In a desperate attempt to quiet the unforgiving doubts, he spent those days doing everything in his power to fend off attacks and protect the innocent, ensuring everyone was safe as he led them away to whatever safe zone Qilby and Shinonomé had set up to treat their injuries and offer their subjects something to drink and eat. A place to stay until the nightmare was finally over.

And in between fighting, narrowly avoiding deathly attacks, rescuing civilians, and holding onto the very last threads of his sanity to not shut down completely, there was one thought in his mind:

He kept praying with all his might Nora was fine.

When he finally did reunite with his sister, the dam finally broke. Weeks of pent-up emotion tore painful, relieved sobs from his throat as he embraced his twin tightly against his chest, feeling a certain wetness against his scales where her own face was buried. It was a miracle neither her or their siblings had died, although the same couldn’t be said for many of their subjects—warriors and civilians alike had lost everything in the blink of an eye. 

Could they ever rebuild their lives at all?

The Mechasms were once their greatest friends and yet, they turned their backs on the Eliatropes without hesitation, let alone an explanation. And now that forsaken doll claimed they had the twelve gods’ blessing and she was meant to be proof enough of that. 

“Don’t make me laugh.” He derisively thought aloud as he used his forearm to furiously wipe away the insistent tears pooling in his eyes. 

His majestic wings stretching to their full length as he glided under the night sky, he didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to distance himself as far away from the palace, his siblings, Nora, and the doll as possible. 

So that glorified ragdoll wanted to earn their trust? Well, fat chance. Because if there was anything he’d learned from the Mechasm War, that was that he’d much rather die than make the same mistake that cost their people so much. Even if he became the Eliatropes’ last line of defence against that green-haired schemer, so be it. He would never let them get away with whatever it was they were planning. Even if it was the last thing he did.

...................................................................................................................

“Is it selfish of me to be looking forward to being able to really explore beyond the confines of the island the most?” Yugo wondered aloud with a heavy sigh, his body sprawling all over his desk as he—thankfully—finished with today’s batch of paperwork. 

Watching his brother’s antics in amusement, Adamaï chuckled, “I know what you mean.” His wings kept him aloft as he scanned over his brother’s small collection of memorabilia. To the naked eye, a shelf filled to the brim with trinkets would be nothing but ‘small’, but the twins still vividly remembered what their room used to look like back in their home planet. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they didn’t remember what it looked like, having been overrun by the countless souvenirs they brought home from their many travels over the years. 

Really, they had so much stuff there was no sight of their walls. 

That was one of the reasons why they no longer shared a room after arriving on the World of Twelve—their siblings had strictly forbidden it. They dared to hope it would take the Emerald Dofus twins slightly longer to turn their living spaces into the world’s most disorganised museum exhibit if they both had to start from scratch. 

Now, normally, such an attempt would have been futile, as Yugo and Adamaï would have already elevated their rooms to the dubious honour of being storage closets with beds; but the rising tensions with the Twelvians and the Eliatropes’ subsequent isolation on Oma Island made moving towards that goal feel like crawling at a snail’s pace. 

Still, Yugo had found a way not to let something as silly as ‘self-imposed isolation’ deter him, hence his small, but still growing, collection. 

Draconic eyes scanning the shelves, Adamaï perked up at the sight of something very interesting. Picking up the torn remnants of the Gobbowl match tickets from their visit to Bonta placed beside a bowl of some sort, he mused aloud, “Amalia seemed very excited with her new garden.”

“Yeah, and here I thought she couldn’t possibly be more excited than when I first showed it to her.” Yugo said, throwing his hands above his head and stretching until he heard a loud pop! “Can’t say I blame her, though. It’s only been two weeks and she’s already doing incredible things.”

“As expected of a Divine Doll.” Adamaï concurred. He glanced at his brother over his shoulder. In the privacy of his room, he had taken his cloak off and hung it on his chair. “You told me at first she was very apprehensive of being given her own garden, right?”

Leaning back on his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, Yugo hummed at the memory. “That’s right. She felt she was imposing herself on us. Luckily, I got her to see how ridiculous that was. She’s not imposing herself on us; if anything, we’re the ones who’re always relying on her help!”

Now it was the dragon’s turn to hum noncommittally. “That’s true, I suppose.” With one last glance over, he put the tickets back in their place. His wings still outstretched and flapping in mid-air, he turned to face his twin. “Then again, isn’t that what she’s here for? To help us?”

This time, he was met with silence. Yugo’s attention was trained on the markings running up and down his ceiling, weak pulses of wakfu making them light up every so often. He was clearly lost in thought. Adamaï sighed good-naturedly, for he was very used to his kind of scene happening and his brother had already explained everything to him when he went to look for him in the library right after parting ways with Amalia that day, anyway. He already had everything he needed. 

Although his mind couldn't help going back to what happened today in the garden. The weak undercurrents of wakfu running through his veins and flashing in his mind told him Yugo, too, was bothered by it. The white-and-blue dragon had a very good inkling that was actually what Yugo had summoned him to his room for in the first place. 

Joined by an endlessly adventurous thrive, the Emerald Twins weren’t ones to stay cooped up in their rooms for long, mostly just to sleep and, especially in Yugo’s case, tend to the kingly duties he had been neglecting during the day. 

And considering how often the latter occurrence took place… Well, let’s just say it was no wonder the Eliatrope King wasn’t the most enthused to be in his room. Which at the same time meant that whenever he summoned you there, it was usually something serious. 

Letting himself fall to the floor as he willed his wings out of existence, Adamaï leaned back against the wall, his claws on his hips and his tail thumping the floor as he patiently waited for Yugo to speak up his mind any minute from now. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cut to the chase and get straight to the point. 

“Did you know what she was really mesmerised by at first was the ground used for the room?”

…maybe it would take some prodding. 

“The ground? How so?” Adamaï immediately smacked himself for playing along despite himself. 

“Because, since it was volcanic rock, it was fertile. Meaning she can grow things more easily.” He explained casually. “Apparently, Sadidas need fertile, workable soil to use many of their powers.”

“I’m guessing you just informed Chibi and Grougal of that fact?” Adamaï guessed, his head tilting to the side in surprise when his brother just shook his head instead. 

“I didn’t even know about that until Amalia told me, when she saw the garden.” He admitted, tearing himself from his desk and spinning his chair around to give his dragon twin his full attention. “That was all Chibi and Grougal.”

“Ever the observant ones, I see.”

“Well, they are our people’s greatest inventors. That’s gotta mean something besides them just being good at tinkering and acting like a pair of interior design snobs.”

“And did you know about her plans for the garden?” Adamaï pressed on, his voice wasn’t accusatory—at neither Amalia or Yugo—, but genuinely curious. 

It took the king a second to get what his twin was trying to say. His form was slightly hunched over, with his forearms resting on his knees and his clasped hands in the space in between. After a beat of silence, understanding dawned on him and he shook his head again. 

“I knew she wanted to prepare it for when we started telling her what we need her to grow, but I had no idea she intended to grow her own animated dolls, if that’s what you mean, Ad.”

Again, Adamaï just nodded. “I was just curious, that’s all. Though I can’t deny I was a little alarmed when Amalia mentioned the explosive ones.”

Both brothers couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. It wasn’t easy catching the white-and-blue dragon off-guard, so when something managed to surprise even him… Well, then you knew it was a pretty big deal. And, truth be told, the face he pulled when Amalia mentioned the possibility of making her dolls explode just as he was playing with one was simply priceless.

“I think we were all quite taken aback that something so small and cute could be such a powerhouse.” Yugo pointed out, wiping a tear off his face, his laughter slowly dying down. 

Adamaï closed the distance between the two and placed a claw over his shoulder, smiling down at his twin with a knowing look, “Yeah, well, then it shouldn’t be all that surprising that Amalia was the one to accomplish that.” He winked. “It’s in her blood, after all!”

Wait, did Divine Dolls even have blood…?

He was broken out of his musings by the almost painfully lovesick sigh that escaped his twin’s lips, “Yeah, you’re right. If anyone knows how to be both cute and powerful, that’s Amalia…”

As soon as the words registered in his mind, Yugo’s eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut. He chanced a cautious look up at Adamaï, and promptly buried his increasingly hot face into his hands at the smug smirk curling at his twin’s thick, blue lips with a loud groan.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, though it sounded a little muffled. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Adamaï tried to sound as neutral as possible, but he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking in amusement at his twin’s predicament. If his vehement denial of the obvious wasn’t so frustrating, he’d be doubled over with laughter by now. 

“You didn’t have to.” The flustered king countered, stubbornly refusing to look the dragon in the eye. “Ever since you hit your first growth spurt, you don’t know how to school your expression into something friendly. Either you look all serious and menacing, or you look absolutely deranged. There is just no in-between.”

“Excuse you!” Adamaï gasped, offended, a claw to his chest. He huffed in outrage. “I’ll have you know I can look perfectly normal if I feel like it! Not once have I scared Amailia off, now, have I?”

Now that Yugo was standing to his full height, he was practically in Adamaï’s face as the two of them grumbled at each other. “Exactly! Your problem is that you can’t play it cool to save your life! The moment you have to plaster a smile on your face instead of letting it happen naturally, you get this psycho grimace instead.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not—!”

“Uh… Is this a bad time?”

At the unexpected sound of the new voice, the two of them whirled their heads around so fast it was a miracle they didn’t give themselves whiplash. There, standing before them and staring at them with the kind of long-suffering resignation only a little sister could possess was Nora, who had just stepped out of one of her diamond-shaped portals. 

“Nora!” Yugo exclaimed, annoyance tingeing his voice. “You can’t just come in like that! Use the door!”

“We’re Eliatropes.” She deadpanned, an eyebrow raised. “Making portals is literally what sets us apart from the other races in the Krosmoz. Why do we even need doors in the first place? We can just go pretty much wherever we like!”

“She’s got a point there.” Adamaï muttered. 

“Well, it’s still common courtesy to at least respect other people’s privacy by not barging into their rooms unannounced.” Yugo couldn’t believe he had to even explain that. Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he added through gritted teeth, “Especially now that we actually have a non-Eliatrope guest living with us.”

“Alright, alright.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to get it over with. “I promise not to teleport myself into Amalia’s room unannounced.” She smirked at the way Yugo was scowling at her—she had very deliberately not said anything about not going into his room unannounced. 

A smirk stretching over her lips, she cocked an eyebrow while her hands came to rest on her hips and she shifted her weight to one leg, striking a cheeky pose, “What’s the matter, Brother? Afraid I might see something I shouldn’t?”

Face burning even hotter, Yugo just made a strangled sound while his hands mimicked wringing her pretty, little neck in aggravation.

Chuckling at the display, only to pretend to have a dry throat when his twin flashed him a death glare, Adamaï said, “So, what brings you here?”

The way she seemed to shrink into herself, all semblance of mirth and sass completely gone, immediately got their attention.

“It’s about Amalia…” She paused, swallowing thickly. “And Efrim.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the Emerald Twins tensed up and exchanged worried glances. They had a very good hunch as to what their conversation might be about.

For a moment, a heavy silence hung over all three of them, as neither dared to say a word; they didn’t even know how to begin the conversation. So they just stood there, in the middle of Yugo’s room, bathed by the light blue hue coming from the artificial stone torches perched over the walls. 

In the end, it was their king who spoke up first, letting out a heavy sigh. “Come on. It’s uncomfortable talking while standing up like this.” He beckoned them deeper into his room. “Why don’t you lie down on the bed, Nora? You look like you could use some rest.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Yugo had a point. After her argument with Efrim the previous night, she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy as a result of both her sleep deprivation and night-long cries. Not even by following her siblings around like usual did Nora grow tired enough to drift off to sleep. The fact that no one had seen Efrim since he left Amalia’s garden only added to her worries. 

When she finally flopped herself down onto her brother’s bed, soft and comfortable, she had to summon every ounce of will power she possessed not to go out like a light. Which was ironic, given all day she wanted nothing more than to find a place she could rest. But nothing about her life was fair anymore, so she would just have to suck it up and pretend things were fine. 

Nothing new, really.

“Had a rough night?” Yugo guessed, offering her a sympathetic smile as he sat down opposite her, at the foot of his bed. Meanwhile, Adamaï opted to remain upright, although leaning against the sculpted frame of his poster bed. 

“You could say that, yes.” She smiled sadly in return. For a moment, neither said a word, until, “I’m worried about him, guys.”

“He’s clearly not taking Amalia’s stay well.” Adamaï observed. 

Nora snorted, “That’s putting it mildly…”

“He was clearly out to get her yesterday. All those questions about her dolls being weapons, and the way he crouched down on the floor, as if ready to pounce…” Yugo trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. “Clearly, Efrim is still convinced Amalia is a threat, and it shows.”

“Yeah, and Amalia is aware of it, too.” The girl pointed out, her eyes falling to her fidgeting fingers on her lap.

“She is?” Adamaï asked, surprised.

“It’s hard not to notice the way Amalia basically shrinks whenever the two are in close proximity.” The casualness of her tone did not take away from the truth of her statement. “She knows Efrim doesn’t like her and it makes her want to stay as far away from him as possible.” She then added with a resigned shrug, “Though, again, it’s not like he does a great job at hiding how he feels.”

“This is such a mess!” Yugo exclaimed tiredly, his hands running through his dirty blond locks and yanking slightly at them in frustration. His wakfu wings—always in sync to his mood swings— went from flickering brightly due to his troubled emotions to lowering slightly, as despondent as he felt. “If we really want the Twelvians to trust us, we can’t afford to have one of our own distrust of Amalia so much! That would only complicate matters, or cause some diplomatic incident, or make them even more suspicious of us, or-or… or I don’t know!”

“Not to mention, Efrim is a member of the Council of Six like us, the rulers of the Eliatrope race.” Adamaï was quick to point out, wincing slightly when he realised he was only adding to his twin’s stress. Though not before saying, “If word gets out that one of us thinks so little of Amalia, the Twelvians could use the excuse of trying to protect one of their gods’ children to attack us or kick us out.”

“Thank you for that summation, Ad.” Yugo deadpanned, his hand holding his head as he sent a look his twin’s way. 

“Right, sorry. Not helping.” He said meekly. 

Groaning loudly, their king jumped to his feet and paced around the room, the motion not unlike that of a caged animal. Stopping abruptly, he threw his head back, his hands having once again found their way to his hair while his wings remained firmly pressed to his head. 

“I just don’t understand the source of Efrim’s animosity!” He complained, throwing his arms to his side. Under his siblings’ curious gaze, he resumed his pacing. “Yes, it’s true Amalia’s arrival was very abrupt and unexpected. I think we can all agree I was the one the most taken aback by it. But Amalia’s presence contributed greatly to the most significant progress we’ve been making in being welcomed by the Twelvians!”

“Nobody denies that, Yugo.” Adamaï said placatingly, sliding off the bed frame and walking towards his twin to rest a pair of comforting claws on his shoulders. “All our subjects know it’s all thanks to Amalia that we were even invited to Bonta. And, from what you told me, she was rather well-liked when you two visited the village.”

“You visited the village together?” Nora questioned, surprised. She had no idea. Then she realised they most likely went without even Adamaï around to act as their chaperone and she found herself feeling personally slighted over having missed such a perfect chance to annoy her brother over his date with his crush like any good little sister would.

Yugo, sensing her intentions, addressed her over his dragon twin’s shoulder, “Yes, to visit Qilby and Shinonomé, nothing more!” Growing more serious and ignoring her mutterings of how ‘she’d have to ask Qilby and Shinonomé later’, he focused back on Adamaï, “And exactly! I simply don’t understand how Efrim could be so judgemental of someone he barely even knows.”

“Can’t you?”

Nora’s quiet yet piercing question immediately drew her brothers’ attention, with Adamaï turning around to look at her while Yugo leaned over his twin’s shoulder to face her better. They exchanged a confused glance before the king muttered, “Um… no? It’s exactly as we’ve been saying, Nora; Amalia’s been a huge help practically since she arrived, and Efrim’s hostility towards her could be taken as an insult by Twelvians and gods alike.”

“True, but that didn’t stop you from keeping your distance from her or suspecting her of having ulterior motives when she arrived.” Hoisting herself up from the bed as well, she pointed an accusatory finger in Yugo’s direction, the action and her words feeling like a suckerpunch. 

While he tried to recover from the blow, she went on, “Because you said so yourself; you were just as suspicious of her true intentions when we first met her. And although for a while you kept good on your promise of keeping her company, you also avoided her for weeks! Shouldn’t you understand Efrim’s feelings better than anyone?”

For a while, Yugo just stood there, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as he struggled to come up with an appropriate response to her question, even if it was clearly rhetorical. Because, the truth was, Nora was right. He was the first one to distrust Amalia as soon as he heard of her presence on Oma Island. And he did spend weeks keeping her at arms’ length or outright avoiding her altogether after he feared they’d got too close during their visit to the beach, precisely because he felt he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. 

But the worst part was that, deep down, he still had doubts. They would creep up on him when he least expected it, like some thieving Srams lurking in the shadows as they waited for their prey to make their presence known to rob them blind. One moment, he would be happily conversing with Amalia, laughing and joking over everything and anything under the sun, and the next, something she said would send him spiralling down paranoia. Suddenly, he would internally question her true reasons for saying what she said, analysing it from every angle as the ever present fear of betrayal lingered heavy on his mind. 

In the blink of an eye, Amalia would transform from an innocent flower who could never hurt anyone, to a scheming seductress with horns and a tail pointer than an Osamodas’ right in front of him. 

And then, as soon as those fears came, they would be gone when her sweet, melodious voice called out to him, sounding genuinely concerned. 

A part of him was beginning to understand the doll’s aversion to Eliatrope portals. He himself was beginning to feel like he kept jumping in and out of one whenever they interacted and those doubts assaulted him, the neverending exercise leaving him quite dizzy. 

He didn’t know where he found the strength to say, “But I am spending time with her, and learning more things about her every day, Nora.” His voice growing more confident with every word he spoke, he pointed his glowing palm to the floor underneath him and materialised a portal that led him right beside his sister, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow, listening intently. 

He leaned forward slightly to be at the same eye-level as her and placed his hands on her pink-clad shoulders reassuringly, not unlike what Adamaï had done to him mere moments before. “And each day she’s giving me more reasons to trust her.”

Instead of fighting him, the pink-eyed Eliatrope just hung her head in defeat, her snow-white bangs following her movements. “And that’s Efrim's greatest fear. That no matter how much time we spend together with her or how much we claim to know her, we still won’t know anything at all and she’ll turn her back on us.”

Like the Mechasms.

None of them needed to voice their thoughts to know the others were thinking the same thing as them. It wasn’t necessary, not after the war with their former allies had left a permanent scar on Eliatrope history and on each and every one of them—some were just more visible than others. 

It was one of the reasons settling down on the World of Twelve had been such a difficult and risky choice. They were driven off their own world by those who once were their closest allies. Could they really risk suffering the same fate at the hands of countless races that were so different from them? 

In the end, desperation and necessity won out over cautiousness, and the rest was history. 

“That’s what weighs heavily on Efrim’s mind, guys.” Nora continued, her voice tremulous as tears welled up in her eyes, her concern for her twin apparent. “He’s not the same he once was, and I fear he’ll never be. He… He just… he doesn’t seem like he can move on from what happened!”

“And he’s terrified that what happened with the Mechasms will repeat itself with Amalia. That we’ll open our hearts and our home to an outsider only for her to stab us in the back like a treacherous Sram.” Adamaï concluded, his voice distant as he watched the tears streaming down his sister’s face. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, feeling powerless to stop her tears and offer her some comfort while Yugo gently wiped them off and tried to reassure her.

“I understand, Nora.” Her older brother said softly, lifting her chin with one finger to get her to look at him. “Believe me, I do. But trusting Amalia is a risk we must take if we want to be able to call this world our home one day. It really is our best shot.”

“He’s right.” Adamaï agreed, finally willing his feet to move and to stand beside his brother, supporting him. “But I’m afraid Efrim’s attitude towards Amalia will only complicate matters.”

Wiping the remaining tears off, she sighed. “I know, and I’ve tried getting him to at least dial it down, but he refuses to back down. He sees himself as our last line of defence against her, or something. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Why don’t you try talking to Amalia instead?” Yugo offered. 

She perked up at that. “What?”

“Yeah, if one side is too stubborn to listen, then maybe you’ll have better luck with the other.” Yugo explained. Then, the all-too-familiar dopey grin they’d come to associate with whenever he was thinking of the Divine Doll came back with a vengeance. “I’m sure if you tell Amalia not to take Efrim’s attitude too personally or you explain to her why he acts like that in the first place, she’ll understand.”

Nora considered it, bringing a finger to her chin pensively. She supposed that could work. She’d just have to be careful not to break Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal. 

She gave a satisfied nod and a smile. “Very well, I’ll try talking to Amalia about it.”

“That’s great!” Yugo grinned back. 

“Now, Brother…” He did not like the sound of her voice one bit. It was innocent, too innocent. “Why don’t you tell me all about your date with Amalia at the village?”

Yugo just teleported himself out of his room.

....................................................................................................................

“And that’s all for today, class. Don’t forget, starting next week, we’ll be meeting up at the training grounds back at the village to formally begin your training on Wakfung.” Glip called after his students as they filed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. 

Amalia picked up the rear end of the throngs of Eliatrope children walking out of the room, sighing in relief, glad that the day was finally over. Since she had been working tirelessly on her garden and her dolls, she had neglected her studies a bit, more specifically, her homework. Meaning she had had a lot of catching up to do the night before to be able to hand in her reports and essays on time. 

She would have also had to give an oral presentation on her findings on her assigned topic regarding Eliatrope worshipping practices if it hadn’t been for class mercifully ending just as it was about to be her turn.

She might have prepared a presentation on Eliatrope worship, but she was going to spend all night thanking Sadida for that save. 

The doll was about to cross the threshold leading to the palace halls and back to her room when she felt the curled end of Glip’s staff grabbing hold of her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She almost let out a resigned whimper, already lamenting the fact that she hadn't been so lucky after all and her teachers were about to make her share her findings with them. 

“Lady Amalia, do you have a moment?” Baltazar’s kind voice said, his grandfatherly tone revealing nothing. 

“Yeah, sure. Of course…” She all but squeaked pitifully, turning her body fully so she was facing her teachers. She took a deep breath and began to recite the speech she had prepared for the occasion, “Every year, during the month that best corresponds to the Twelvian Descendre, the Eliatrope people gather to celebrate their goddess’ greatest feats: the creation of the Krosmoz, the birth of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, and the creation of—.”

“My Lady, what are you blabbering about?” Glip cut her off, confused. 

“Um, I’m explaining what I’ve found out about my assigned topic on Eliatrope worship?” Amalia replied, unsure, her eyes darting this and that way. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Dragon and Eliatrope shook their heads. “Not at all.” Baltazar said. 

“Huh.” Now Amalia was the one who was confused. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well, you see,” Glip started. With a sigh, he walked further into the room and hooked his staff with one of the rings hanging from the ceilings that the kids used to practise their moves. Hoisting himself up, he somersaulted in the air until he came to rest atop his twin’s head, peering down at the gaping doll with an unreadable expression (and feeling very smug about his physical feat). “As you know, next week—.”

“Did you really have to do all that just to make it to Baltazar’s head?” The dragon questioned, doing his best to send his brother an accusatory glare even though doing so was considerably difficult when your target was out of your line of vision. “Couldn’t you have just opened a portal? Glip, you’re the Eliatrope!”

The Wakfung master’s expression morphed into a resigned grimace. He went on all fours to lean over the dragon’s head and look his twin in the eye. “Mastering the art of Wakfung requires both physical fortitude and agility, not just proficiency at manipulating wakfu. You’d know this if you didn’t spend all your time with your snout stuck in a book.”

An annoyed puff of smoke abandoning his nostrils and almost causing Glip to choke, the beige dragon was quick to shoot back, “And if you didn’t spend so much time jumping around like a monkey, you would recognise there is no point in mastering Wakfung if you do not know the legacy you’re trying to protect!”

Amalia could only blink as the two people she’d come to see as wise and esteemed masters bickered with each other like children. In a way, she supposed she should be more than used to the sight by now. In the few months she’d been living on Oma Island, she’d come to witness firsthand and on more than one occasion that the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons had a very interesting relationship. One minute, they were the very picture of leadership, diplomacy, and refinement, and the next they would have the most childish spats over the silliest things.

She didn’t know if she should find it funny or embarrassing that, more often than not, Yugo always found himself squabbling with his siblings.

She shifted in place uncomfortably, digging her big toe into the floor, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, she really didn’t want to interrupt, but on the other hand, they had yet to tell her what they wanted from her in the first place and she was growing rather impatient. She still had a garden to tend to! And who knew the kind of trouble her dolls would get into if she wasn’t there to watch over them until she had them fully under her command?

At last, she had enough. To be honest, she would have summoned forth a set of tendrils to wrap around the twins’ forms to pull them apart, but seeing as, technically speaking, they were still her teachers and, thus, her superiors in a way, the doll limited herself to clearing her throat loudly to gain their attention. 

It was almost comical the way they abruptly stopped their bickering to turn their heads to her.

“Sorry to interrupt, Master Glip, Master Baltazar, but could you please tell me what you wanted to talk to me about in the first place?”

The Ivory Twins shared a sheepish glance before hastily collecting themselves as if nothing had happened. Adjusting his tunic and tightening his grip on his cane, Glip resumed what he was saying, “As I was saying, before we were rudely interrupted,” he yelped when Baltazar used one of his tiny, yet perfectly functional, wings to smack him on the back of his head. “As you know, next week we’ll be starting the children’s formal training on Wakfung.” He finally said, nursing the back of his head while flashing his brother a glare. 

Amalia nodded. “That’s right. You reminded us about it right before dismissing class.” She tilted her head, confused. “But what does that have got to do with me?”

Glip grew sheepish at that, wincing slightly. “Well, as I already mentioned when you first started attending our lessons,” his wince intensified as he remembered the less than stellar way he had treated the Divine Doll back then, “since you’re not an Eliatrope, your magic doesn’t work like ours.”

“Uh-huh.” She mumbled, nodding along to his explanation. 

“So, the thing is… Erm…” He trailed off. He peered down at his brother. “Lend me a claw?”

“What Glip is trying to say, my Lady, is that he simply cannot teach you the art of Wakfung, as your magic is not compatible with it.” Baltazar finished for him, looking the doll straight in the eye. 

“Oh. I…I see.” Was all Amalia could say in response. Truth be told, she already suspected she wouldn’t be able to learn like the rest of the children, as Glip had made that very clear on her first day. But she supposed a small, naïve part of her had hoped the Wakfung master would change his mind upon seeing how diligent she was as a student.

Still, hearing them say she just wouldn’t be able to practise with them hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“Then, what am I supposed to do starting next week?” She chose to ask instead of voicing her hurt feelings. Not like it would have been necessary—the pitiful glances her masters sent her way made it plenty clear she was doing a lousy job at masking her disappointment in the first place. 

She must have looked like a kicked Bow Wow at the moment.

Glip’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and reassuring as he suggested, “You can do whatever you want, really. From working on your garden to watching the children and I train at the village.”

“You could always spend that time at the library with Baltazar.” The beige dragon offered kindly, and Amalia couldn’t help but smile. She knew him well enough by now to know he meant it. “We could always spend that time to help you catch up some more on your studies.”

The doll felt her cheeks grow hot at their next suggestion, innocent as it might have sounded. “Or you could always go look for Yugo and spend time together if he’s not too busy.”

“Oh! Uh… I-I don’t know. I mean, sure! I-if he’s not too busy…” Clearing her throat, she scrambled to change the topic. “I guess I’ll take some time to figure out what I’d like to do first and I'll let you know as soon as I’ve decided?”

Both masters nodded. “Of course.” Glip said, at the same time as Baltazar added, “You let us know whatever it is that you decide to do.”

“Right. Well, if there’s nothing else you would like to talk to me about…” she trailed off purposely, giving them a chance to speak up. When instead they just shook their heads and smiled at her, she returned their smile with one of her own—one she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes— and proceeded to make her way towards the door as she waved goodbye over her shoulder. “Okay, then! Thanks for today’s lesson! See you soon!”

As soon as she was out of the threshold, she closed the door behind herself, knowing the educators liked taking some time to clean up after each lesson before they too had to leave. She let out a sigh and leaned back against the door, feeling thoroughly drained all of a sudden. 

“Sweet Sadida, what a day…”

“Amalia.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, she let out a loud, high-pitched squeak as she jumped away from the door. Immediately, the sight before her let her know the day was far from over. 

“Nora?”

For a moment, as if under a spell, Amalia just blinked, taken aback. To say she was surprised to see the youngest Eliatrope would be an understatement. Not because she wasn’t used to seeing Nora around, quite the contrary, as she was one of the faces she saw the most; but because, for once, she was alone. Normally, whenever Amalia and Nora were in the same room, the latter was accompanying at least one of her siblings for one reason or another. It got to the point where the doll wondered if perhaps she just disliked being on her own. 

She always waved that idea off, however, as, even though Nora was always around, Amalia simply didn’t know her enough to feel confident in her assessment of her. But one thing was for certain: Nora had never approached her like this before, all by herself and with her pink eyes denoting a graveness that felt foreign to the otherwise impish woman.

To be completely honest, Amalia couldn’t help but squirm under her penetrating gaze, subconsciously bringing her arms around her body for comfort, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the white fabric of her wristbands. She had the feeling whatever the reason was that Nora came seeking her out, it had to be important.

“Do you have a moment? I’d like to speak with you.” The Eliatrope girl said bluntly. 

Just as the doll had opened her mouth to reply, the doors to Glip and Baltazar’s classroom creaked open, the two masters in question peeking through and glancing around in worry, no doubt because they had heard Amalia’s embarrassingly loud squeak from earlier. When Baltazar’s eyes set on the young doll, he offered her a kind smile. He was about to speak to her when he finally registered his little sister’s presence, his beady eyes going as wide as Amalia’s must have been just a few seconds ago. 

It was Glip who spoke at last, though his voice betrayed his own surprise. “Nora! We weren’t expecting you. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Perhaps you have come to return to Baltazar the book he lent you?” The beige dragon smiled weakly, a clear attempt to diffuse the mounting tension. But Nora just shook her head, her expression kind yet unreadable. 

“Sorry, Baltazar. I still haven’t got around to finishing it. I promise I’ll be done with it soon, though.”

“It is quite alright. Take your time.”

Amalia had to suppress the urge to flinch when Nora’s magenta eyes settled on her yet again. “I actually wanted to talk to Amalia. I imagined she’d be done with her classes by now and came to see if she’d be up to some girl time.” She tilted her head to the side invitingly, her snowy bangs following her movements. 

Immediately after, the doll could feel her teachers’ worried gaze on her, silently asking her if she was really okay with this. Wordlessly offering to give her an out. Her own dark brown eyes darting discreetly from Nora to them, she ultimately nodded along, plastering a small smile on her face. 

She was still hugging herself when she said, “Sure, Nora. We can talk, if you’d like.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Amalia. Come, there’s much I’d like to tell you.” And with that, she turned around and beckoned for the doll to follow her. With a quiet yelp, the Divine Doll scrambled to catch up to the white-haired Eliatrope, coming to stand by her side as they made it through the palace corridors in silence. 

As they kept walking, Amalia couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to Glip and Baltazar’s genuine concern for her. Touched, she couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading all over her being even if she wanted to. Not that long ago, the Wakfung master hadn’t exactly been enthused to have her as a student, but now he seemed to care for her about as much as any of the children.

But then, the rustling sound Nora’s magenta cloak made as she moved reminded her of the reason they had been worried for her in the first place. Not for the first time, she found herself just as concerned. Sneaking a furtive glance her companion’s way, she knew that, deep down, her unease had nothing to do with Nora, but with her brother. 

The core of Efrim’s attitude remained a mystery, even after all this time. All Amalia knew for certain was that the periwinkle dragon didn’t like her. Not one bit. It wasn’t difficult to reach that conclusion; after all, how would one describe the constant glares he shot her way, the warning snarls and growls with bared teeth, and his brusque manner of addressing her?

What, his love language was supposed to be ‘barely restrained aggression’?

No, of course not. The mere thought was ridiculous. Amalia may have been young by virtue of how she was conceived, but she wasn’t a fool. She could tell when something was wrong with almost as much accuracy as she could tell the state of the plants around her. And even they advised her to be careful around Efrim. 

What was more, for a while now she had had the feeling it wasn’t just the plants that grew worried over the tense relationship between her and the young dragon—and that was being generous. Yugo in particular always seemed to keep his eyes peeled whenever the two of them were in close proximity and he was there to see it. And today, Glip and Baltazar’s reactions were only further proof of what she already knew, with what transpired the other day at her garden only serving to cement her beliefs. 

Efrim was out to get her. And she could only speculate the reason why. 

Despite her usual nervousness whenever Nora’s twin was around, for once Amalia had been able to ignore the pit that usually formed in her stomach around him almost effortlessly. She had been far too excited about showing the Council of Six what she had been up to to really pay Efrim much mind. 

How could she not have been ecstatic, right? Not only had she already prepared the soil for when the Council members told her what their people needed her to grow, but she had finally been able to craft her own Sadida Dolls! She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been a little envious of Dathura when she made use of what little time they had together to show her baby sister all her dolls. 

As with everything back then, her natural instincts kicked into gear at the sight of the blue and green ragdolls, the Sadida within her urging her to heed their call and honour her father the best way their people knew. By replicating his greatest feat. 

Which was, ironically, her and her sisters’ own creation.

So when Yugo gave her the go-ahead to cut loose with her powers, she didn’t hesitate to bring that dream of hers to life, especially when she knew her dolls could contribute greatly to the development and defence of the Eliatropes. They would carry out any task asked of them without complaint, and their versatility and resilience turned them into the perfect tools to have at hand when under attack. 

There was a reason why young Sadida learned to craft dolls almost as soon as they had their motor skills under control! What could be better than a vegetable doll?

However, what she wasn’t counting on was that the attack would come from within the kingdom and directed straight at her. 

While Amalia was already expecting she would have to explain Sadida customs to the Council, she certainly hadn’t accounted for the sheer venom that would be dripping from Efrim’s every word as he questioned her on her decision to create weapons, of all things. As his predatory eyes bore into her and his every exhale tore into her skin with unspoken accusations, the underlying message was clear: he suspected her of intending to turn her dolls against them in the future. 

The Divine Doll still felt a shiver running down her spine at the memory, her heart squeezing almost to the point of pain at the silent suspicion Efrim’s cobalt blue eyes screamed as they were trained in on her. When she first met the young dragon, Amalia had been mesmerised by those eyes, shining like sapphires, but now, the more she was forced to lock her gaze to his, the darker they seemed each time. Like obsidians. 

And at that moment when Efrim had struck that pose, ready to pounce on her, the obsidians had melted into tar, sticky and inescapable as it trapped her, surrounding her very being and threatening to plunge her to the dark depths of the abyss, never to see the light of—.

She frantically shook her head, willing those thoughts to leave her mind lest she risked drowning in them again. Loath as she was to think about it, even after Efrim abruptly dashed out of the door, it had taken her longer than she cared to admit for her heartbeat to go back to normal. Thank Sadida for Yugo, who remained by her side through it all, offering her wordless but much needed comfort through his mere presence or even some fleeting, yet lingering touches. 

Regardless of what Efrim made her feel, one thing was for certain: for reasons beyond her, the young dragon didn’t trust her, and she would not be able to feel truly welcomed until he did. 

But that still didn’t explain why Nora would want to talk to her in private. 

Unlike with Efrim, who practically radiated hostility, Amalia didn’t sense any real malice coming from the pink-eyed Eliatrope. On the contrary, whenever they interacted or, at least, both were present, Nora seemed to be rather approving of her. 

(Yugo would go as far as to grumble about how she was, perhaps, a little too approving of her, but whatever he meant by that always flew right over the doll’s head). 

Still, that didn’t change one undeniable fact: Nora and Efrim were twins, and if there was one thing she had learned about the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, that was that no bond was stronger than the one each set of twins shared with each other. So, regardless of her own feelings towards Amalia, chances were Nora would always put her brother first. 

“I’m sorry about Efrim’s behaviour towards you, Amalia.” 

…then again, what did Amalia know? She was just a Sadida Doll. 

Upon registering her apology, the doll stopped dead in her tracks as she tried to process what the white-haired Eliatrope had just said. Turning her head to face her, Amalia found herself staring at the back of Nora’s dark pink hood, for she had stopped walking as well and was now standing with her back to the doll, facing the landscape spreading before them. 

They had halted their movements just as they ventured into the outdoors bridge that connected the South and North wings of the palace. Soon they were enveloped by Oma’s natural beauty and the sound of the local wildlife around them. 

As Amalia made up her mind whether she should join her companion or not, the latter continued, “I know my apology isn’t exactly worth much.” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “After all, it should be Efrim apologising to you but…” She trailed off, a moment of silent understanding where words weren’t needed to express what she was trying to convey passing between them. “You still deserve an apology. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her head hanging slightly as she contemplated Nora’s words, Amalia tentatively slid over to where she was standing. Giving her a sidelong glance, she copied her movements and her hands came to grip at the marble railing of the bridge as the two of them oversaw the scenery. 

“Thank you, Nora.” She told her quietly, almost afraid to break the silence. The light afternoon breeze rocked her bangs, causing her to tuck the rebellious strands away from her face. “You really didn’t have to.”

But Nora just shook her head. Amalia was only noticing it now, but she hadn’t pulled up her mask to cover her lower face. The doll didn’t know why, but that made her feel more at ease. Like Nora was allowing herself to be open and vulnerable for once even in her presence. 

“It’s the least I could do. Efrim was way out of line the other way.” She sent the green-haired woman by her side an apologetic glance. “I can’t imagine how he might’ve made you feel.”

“Can't say being questioned like that was the nicest feeling…” Amalia admitted timidly, rubbing her upper arm up and down for comfort and pulling her wristbands down by accident. She tugged at the garments lightly to put them back in their place. “I just don't understand why your brother seems to be out to get me! What have I ever done?”

“It’s not because of anything you’ve done, Amalia. At least, not really.” The words were out of Nora’s mouth before she even had the time to think them over. Startled by her own admission—and embarrassed, not like she’d ever admit to that—, she clamped her mouth shut, doing everything in her power to avoid looking the Divine Doll in the eye. 

She didn’t have much luck, unfortunately. Because after a few seconds ticked by, she eventually caved and chanced a furtive look the doll’s way, only to immediately avert her gaze when it turned out her bright, brown orbs were staring almost owlishly back at her.

After much consideration, the youngest Eliatrope heaved a heavy sigh, giving up. Still, she weighed what she could say next, careful not to break her twin’s trust, “Efrim has… trust issues with outsiders. Especially now that we're the outsiders. He’s just worried letting anyone else in will have dire consequences.”

Even though she was still reeling by the Council member’s admission, Amalia’s mind locked in on one fact and refused to let it go. “Wait, ‘anyone else’?” She repeated, her eyebrows shooting to the ceiling when Nora flinched. “Nora, have you guys ever had trouble with someone before?”

But Nora refused to speak, refused to even look her in the eye. Instead, she was stubbornly averting her pink gaze, giving Amalia nothing but a view of her hood and her snowy hair waving in the breeze. She silently thanked the Great Goddess her cloak managed to conceal her hands, because her grip on the railing was so tight, her already pale skin turned even whiter around her knuckles. 

Seeing how the other girl closed herself off, Amalia considered letting her be by dropping the subject altogether. Whatever it was that had happened was clearly something she didn’t want to discuss, and the last thing she wanted was to put Nora through an unpleasant experience. Perhaps she could try asking Yugo about it?

But just as she was about to let the matter go, memories of Efrim’s barbed comments and venomous looks flashed through her mind, igniting a new burst of determination to surge through her veins. She was sent by the gods to help Eliatropes and Twelvians alike, but she would be unable to offer much assistance if she didn’t know what happened and instead kept running away from it every time she faced an obstacle. It was about time she let go of her fear of the dragon and got some actual answers, instead of throwaway comments that only served to have the doll question even more things. 

Taking a deep breath to steady her mounting nerves, Amalia leaned closer to Nora, determined to ask the question that had been plaguing her mind since their visit to Bonta. 

“Nora, why do the Twelvians consider your people outsiders?”

Her reply was quiet but blunt, “Because we’re not from this world.”

That… actually took Amalia aback. Though maybe it shouldn’t have, as she had been learning the origins of the Eliatrope race from her classes. Not to mention, it was plain to see Yugo and his people didn’t worship any of the twelve gods native to the World of Twelve, like her father, Cra, Ecaflip… Both their appearance and knack for opening portals was proof enough of that. Instead, their patron and source of their powers was the Great Goddess Eliatrope, the source of all wakfu in the universe, as well as one of the Krosmoz’s creators alongside the Great Dragon. 

And yet, for some unfathomable reason, the possibility that the Eliatropes didn’t resemble any of the Twelvian gods and were considered outsiders precisely because they weren’t native to the World of Twelve had never crossed her mind. 

Much to her chagrin, she felt her cheeks grow hot, embarrassed by her own ignorance. 

Still, sensing how Nora was about to close herself off yet again, she pushed through. She needed to know the truth. 

“Then how come you came all the way here to settle down?” When the Eliatrope refused to answer, Amalia placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to convey how she could tell her anything, as well as the fact that she would not budge on the matter. “Please, Nora, I just want to understand.”

Understand…

Nora perked up at that, at odds with herself. On the one hand, she feared she had already said too much. The last thing she wanted was to breach Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal. That, and deep down she couldn’t help but try to heed her twin’s warning—it would be very unwise to provide Amalia with information she could exploit in the future if it turned out Efrim’s suspicions were right and she couldn’t be trusted. 

And on the other hand, Amalia just wanted to understand. Wasn’t that why she reached out to her instead of her brother in the first place? Because Yugo had assured her that, out of the two, Amalia would be more willing to listen to her and to try to understand what Efrim was going through?

With that in mind, it would be very unfair of Nora to disrupt the doll’s day with all the heaviness she brought with her only to then deny her closure when it was no longer convenient for her. 

She slammed her head against the railing, the sudden action causing the green-haired beauty to flinch, and groaned pitifully. What was she supposed to do?

For her part, Amalia was beginning to regret ever bringing the Eliatropes’ past up. The last thing she expected was that the youngest Council member would react… Well, like that. She suppressed the urge to sigh in disappointment. Perhaps it just wasn’t the time for her to know the truth. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to gently place it on Nora’s back when—.

“You’re right. You have a right to know what happened.” Nora said completely out of the blue, straightening herself up and turning towards the doll, her pink eyes piercing through her skin until they reached her very soul. She extended an arm to the side, her palm glowing turquoise, “Come with me.”

Following the direction the Eliatrope’s arm was pointed at, Amalia’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth hung open a little as a burst of the ever-familiar bright blue energy flickered to life. Before she knew it, Nora’s magic had summoned a portal in the middle of the bridge. The doll couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side at the sight of it, intrigued. Now that she thought about it, that had to be the first time she ever saw the youngest Eliatrope make use of her magic—or, at least, really pay attention to it—; that in itself was noteworthy, given she had been living under the same roof as her for weeks. However, it was nothing compared to her surprise as she realised Nora’s wakfu manifested very differently from Yugo’s. 

Even though she’d much rather be caught dead than go through another one of the king’s portals, Amalia had seen enough of them from his daily training sessions to believe herself to be quite well acquainted with them. And Nora’s were nothing like his. 

It didn’t get to the point where, while Yugo, who usually wore blue clothing, created blue portals, Nora, unmistakable with her use of magenta garments, emanated stasis-like pink energy instead. Of course not; that would be ridiculous. But even Amalia, whose way of channelling her wakfu was completely different from any other inhabitant of Oma Island, could sense whose portals were whose from both appearance and a feeling resonating from deep in her gut, almost like how Yugo’s wakfu vision worked. 

Because while the Eliatrope King’s magic manifested in perfectly circular portals, Nora’s had four sides that converged in sharp edges. It took the Sadida Doll longer than she cared to admit—and a little bit of blinking, stupefied—to realise that her portal was actually a square, though its vertical position made it look more like a diamond. 

“Erm… What’s this”? She asked meekly, her finger pointing weakly at the portal in front of her as she finally tore her gaze from it to stare questioningly at Nora. 

Oh, dear Doll Master above, please don’t let her greatest fears come true… 

The Eliatrope just looked at her like she had grown a second head, her brow furrowed, especially when the doll kept watching the portal with as much cold disdain as if it had personally offended her. “That’s one of my portals…” She couldn’t help but state the obvious, gesturing between it and Amalia and not understanding the reason behind her apparent apprehension. “You already know that’s what we, Eliatropes, use as means of transportation… right?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Amalia just waved her off, although her posture remained stiff and the smile curling at her lips was strained. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Yugo’s always opening portals around me, and Glip and Baltazar help the children with their own powers practically every day!”

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Nora ventured. 

The doll got straight to the point. “Do you want me to go through it?”

There was a beat of silence where all Nora could do was blink, flabbergasted.

“Yes, that is the reason why I summoned a portal in the first place. To take us somewhere else quicker than we would arrive on foot.” The Eliatrope explained, although a part of her kept questioning why she even had to explain something so obvious in the first place. Especially to Amalia, who had been living there with them for weeks! Surely she would know what her people used portals for by now, right?

“Oh, I see.” Amalia said, trying to sound casual and unaffected, but she remained as tense as before. “Um, isn’t there… I don’t know, another way we can go wherever you want to take me to instead?” She asked, her voice suspiciously high-pitched. “I’ll gladly let you kidnap me, if that’s what you want!” She joked, and the white-haired girl in front of her thought to herself that the doll was clearly unaware of her attractiveness for her to say something like that so nonchalantly.

She distinctly remembered herself saying she would gladly take Amalia if Yugo didn’t want her.

Unaware of the thoughts running through Nora’s mind, the green-haired girl just went on, desperate to avoid going through another portal for as long as she lived. “But, I mean, can’t we just walk there…?”

Nora blinked once, twice, thrice as she struggled to come to grips with what the doll had just told her. She tried to find sense to her request, only to come up empty-handed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yes, it’s just, you see…” The wild beauty stammered, growing increasingly uncomfortable under the other girl’s scrutinising pink gaze. Although that was nothing compared to the building pressure that was having that thing practically right next to her. “The thing is, I don’t go through portals.” A beat. “Ever.”

“What?!” Nora couldn’t believe her ears, her eyes going as wide as the very portal she had created. “Hasn’t Yugo ever invited you to pass through one of his portals before? I could’ve sworn he did…” She muttered that last part to herself. 

“Oh, he has.” She couldn’t help but flinch when Amalia’s voice took on a darker quality, a shadow passing over her features. “That’s why I categorically refuse to go through another!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her torso and sticking her nose up in the air almost petulantly with a huff. “No offence, Nora, but those things always do a number on my stomach, and I’m not looking forward to getting reacquainted with my lunch this afternoon. Thank you very much.”

Nora just stood there, her shoulders shagged and her posture hunched over from disbelief, gaping like a fish at the Divine Doll. She couldn't believe it… Straightening herself and bringing a hand to massage her temple as she gathered her thoughts, she had to ask, a hint of exasperation in her voice, “Wait, that’s it? You don’t like going through portals because you get dizzy?”

A stubborn nod was all the answer she got. 

She exhaled deeply through her nose, mustering up every ounce of patience she possessed. “Amalia, I’m sure whatever happened last time to make you sick was just a fluke.” She tried to reason, to no avail. 

“Oh, trust me,” the doll laughed sarcastically, “it was not a fluke.”

How many times would she have to have this conversation before it finally sank in? Her vomiting after going through a portal was as much of an elemental law as water boiling at 100º!

Seeing as the Sadida Doll would not budge in her decision, with a sigh, Nora tried a different approach—appealing to her common sense. 

“Amalia, I understand you might not like going through portals, after all, it’s not the kind of magic you’re used to. The Great Goddess knows nothing takes us quite as aback as when you make use of your powers.” She giggled, thinking back to all the times they’d been startled by vines growing in places where they shouldn’t. Then, she grew a little more serious. “But if you want to understand the reason our people are outsiders, moreover, to learn the reason we came to this world in the first place, then I really need you to come with me. And I’m afraid the fastest way is through one of my portals.”

She extended her pink-clad hand towards the doll, who peered down at it suspiciously, and smiled at her before the two locked eyes, brown meeting pink. 

“What do you say? Do you trust me?”

Eyes darting back and forth between her extended hand and back at Nora, Amalia couldn’t help but comment drily to herself how the Council of Six seemed to always be asking for her trust when they didn’t seem all that willing to extend the same courtesy to her. But, ultimately, her desire to know far outweighed her reservations. After all, if Nora was willing to share her people’s past with her, that must have meant she trusted her, right?

With a soft exhale, Amalia finally gave up, her arms falling to her sides in defeat before flashing Nora a small smile and reaching out to grasp her hand in hers. 

Before they could so much as move a step closer towards the portal, she jabbed a finger in her face, though. “I’m warning you, whatever happens when we go through the other end won’t be pretty.”

Nora couldn’t help but agree with her in private, though not for the same reasons Amalia was referring to. She really had no idea of what awaited her on the other side. Still, it seemed the two of them had made up their minds and neither would back down. 

“I’ll take my chances.”

And with that, she pulled Amalia closer towards her and motioned for her to jump into the portal, disappearing from sight as it closed behind them. And yet, weirdly enough, all Amalia could think of as she went through the portal, the familiar currents of wakfu turning her stomach upside down, was that it felt nothing like Yugo’s. She found herself missing the strange sense of comfort he seemed to imbue to his own magic as it traversed her body…

.......................................................................................................................

As Amalia had predicted, watching her heave loudly as she stood on all fours on the floor wasn’t a pretty sight. Nora couldn’t help but grimace as another loud gasp escaped the doll’s throat, feeling guilty for not taking her warning more seriously. 

Not sure what to do with herself, she mostly stood there, watching as the doll’s heaving seemed to gradually subside. With a wince, she tried reaching out a hand towards her, even though the distance between them meant she wouldn’t actually make contact with her skin. “Are… are you okay?” She asked sheepishly. 

“Well, at least now I only dry-heave.” Amalia said drily, trying to imbue her voice with an optimism she most definitely didn’t feel and her efforts falling flat. “Not that long ago, I would have thrown up all over the place…”

Oh, those poor bushes… They had seen so much horror. 

“Hey, look on the bright side.” Nora offered, her tone light yet cautious. “Before you know it, you’ll be able to go through portals no problem!”

Amalia’s answer was concise and to the point. 

“Over my dead body.”

Neither needed to point out the fact that Divine Dolls were virtually immortal for the message to be crystal clear. 

“Okay…” Nora said, tapping her hands against her thighs awkwardly while Amalia got over the remainder of her affliction. When she finally found the strength to stand on two legs, though her stance was a little wobbly at first, the Eliatrope ventured, “Are you feeling better?”

Amalia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at it disdainfully before answering, “Not yet, but I’ll be.” 

Now that she was back on her feet, she spun over herself, eyes darting in every direction as she took in the scenery around her. They seemed to be in some sort of cavernous system, the only source of light coming from the numerous bulbshrooms spread all over the walls. Large stalactites and stalagmites served as columns, and blocks of white sandstone had engravings on them that forced the doll to squint her eyes at them to get a better look at what they portrayed, to no avail. 

One thing was for certain, she had no idea where they were supposed to be.

“So, what was it that you wanted to show me?”

“This.” Nora said simply in return, and instead of elaborating on the matter, she just turned around, her pink gaze staring intently at what she had in front of her. 

One sceptical eyebrow raised at her reaction, Amalia followed suit, turning her head to the direction the young Eliatrope was transfixed by… And promptly gaped at the sight, a gasp leaving her throat and her brown eyes going wide as she scanned every single detail displayed before her. 

Covering every single inch of the sandstone wall standing right in front of them was the biggest mural Amalia had ever seen in her admittedly short life. It burst with colour over its white canvas, splotches of blue, pink, black, red, white and so much more interweaving into each other through intricate strokes until it converged into one huge, unified picture. And while the technical aspects of the mural were nothing to scoff at and were definitely deserving of a good amount of the awe currently rendering her speechless, that wasn’t what Amalia’s mind had fixated on. 

The reason her eyes were glued to the mural before her was the scene it represented. 

Sprawled all over the white stone, the splotches of colour took the unmistakable forms of the Council of Six; seeing the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons painted so distinctively, she could only assume the remaining purple, yellow, and even blue patches were meant to represent the rest of their race. Despite the mural’s minimalist style, it was easy to perceive the dynamism behind the scene, clearly trying to portray movement and convey constant action. 

Indeed, nothing in the painting suggested a domestic scene taken from the day-to-day chores of the Eliatropes and their leaders. On the contrary, the image before her was something that caused a primal feeling in Amalia, a kind of fear born from the deepest, most inexplicable form of empathy, to resurface. Beyond all else, she hoped that kind of thing would never become a daily occurrence. 

Staring right back at her was a battle. 

Even with the Council’s simplistic design, the Sadida Doll had no trouble making out scenes such as Glip and Baltazar shielding small children from danger—which she was able to deduce thanks to the fact that the spots she believed represented the children were significantly smaller. In another, Qilby and Shinonomé appeared to be treating the injured, a pit forming in the doll’s stomach when she realised the heavy use of red in that corner wasn’t just because of the dragoness’ ruby-like scales; many had got hurt and needed treatment. The black splotches she associated with Chibi and Grougal were isolated from the rest, hunched over a table as they seemed to be working tirelessly in order to find a solution to their problem. The turquoise figures that represented Mina and Phaeris knelt on the floor in front of what she could only assume was a statue of the Goddess Eliatrope, praying for a miracle or begging for mercy, maybe both. Unlike their siblings, who remained by their twins’ side, Nora and Efrim stood at opposite sides of the mural, seemingly running themselves ragged as they struggled to help their people to the best of their abilities. 

But the scene that truly made Amalia’s heart sink was the one displayed at the very centre of the mural. She was so lost in her thoughts, her mind didn’t register when she brought her hands over her chest or she took a step closer. Right then all she cared about, despite her better judgement, was getting a better look; so with a swift flick of her wrist, she summoned a verdant tendril to lift her up until she was face-to-face with the image currently depriving her of breath. 

She gingerly placed a hand on the stone, her fingers delicately tracing Yugo’s figure as he rode on Adamaï, a wakfu sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and the two charged headfirst against their opponent—a monstrous mechanical contraption painted in black as dark as coal and lines redder than blood. 

A shuddering breath escaped her at the sight, causing her to snatch her hand away and tuck it closely to her chest as she wordlessly ordered her vine to put her back on the floor. 

“Nora,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and she was genuinely surprised she was actually able to utter a single word. “What is this?”

Her answer came immediately afterwards, resigned acceptance mixed with something unreadable tinged the Eliatrope’s voice, almost as she had already been expecting that reaction from the doll and had been bracing herself to answer. 

“This is the reason why we came to the World of Twelve, Amalia.” She said calmly as she walked over to the startled doll, her own gaze fixed on the mural. Had Amalia been looking in her direction, she would have noticed the unmistakable glimmer of sadness and pain glinting in her pink irises. “This is why we’re considered outsiders by this world’s inhabitants. Because we lost our own world.”

“Do the... Do the Twelvians know about it?”

A scoff. 

“Even if they did, I highly doubt it would change anything.”

Amalia was almost too afraid to ask. “What… what happened?”

Though she heaved a mirthless chuckle, Nora’s tone was solemn. 

“To this day, we still don’t know.”

The doll’s previous suspicions were only proven right the more Nora spoke, and the more Nora spoke, the more her heart broke for the Eliatropes. 

According to Nora, their people had lived in perfect peace and harmony for millennia thanks both to their mother, the Great Goddess Eliatrope, for giving her children a safe place they could call home, and the Council of Six, who dedicated their lives, throughout countless lifetimes, to ensuring their subjects never wanted for anything. As they had never known true misery and corruption, the Eliatropes weren’t like the Twelvians, whose distrusting and prejudiced nature was apparent, but they desired to reach out to other races and expand their little world a bit nonetheless. 

Naturally, the Mechasms’ arrival felt like a blessing, and for many years, it was. The otherworldly species that seemed to operate on rules of their own soon formed a quasi-symbiotic relationship with the Eliatropes. Before they knew it, their homeworld was as much of the Mechasms’ as it was theirs. Nothing could break their bond.

Or so they thought. 

Amalia was so engrossed in Nora’s story she failed to even realise the loud gasp she heard echoing around the palace’s walls—as Nora had explained to her they were actually in the palace’s underground levels, which were still under construction and heavy revision from Chibi and Grougal—was actually her own. But Nora paid her no mind, her eyes distant as she revisited the past, seemingly staring right through the doll and into a reality that was only kept alive in her mind.

One day, without warning, the Mechasms, led by their young prince Orgonax, stabbed them in the back and declared war on the Eliatropes. At first, they were naïve enough to believe all could be easily resolved if Mina and Phaeris just led a diplomatic meeting to get to the bottom of the matter and assuage their beloved neighbours. But for the first time in history, the Ochre Dofus twins failed to diffuse the situation, their pleas falling on deaf ears; the Eliatropes and Mechasms would go to war with each other.

The Council of Six immediately took charge, mobilising soldiers and civilians alike in hopes of assuring either victory, or, at the very least, their well-being. The battles spammed over the course of weeks, depleting them of their resources at an alarming rate; and their once lush and prosperous world soon descended into mayhem and madness, blood seeping deep into the very ground. 

Yugo and Adamaï, as their people’s greatest warriors, fought valiantly and with everything they had, but after a while it became apparent they were only postponing the inevitable. If they didn’t find a solution, and soon, the entirety of the Eliatrope race would fall. 

In light of those odds, everything seemed bleak, and their subjects’ morale took a heavy blow; it truly seemed that it would be the end. And yet, right as they were about to succumb to the darkness around them and within, Qilby and Shinonomé offered what seemed to be their only possible saving grace. 

They were to leave their world and travel the Krosmoz in search of another place to call home. 

“And that’s what we did.” Nora continued. Amalia couldn’t help but flinch in surprise when she turned to look her in the eye; truth be told, she came to believe the other girl had forgotten all about her, lost in her memories. “We hopped on the Zenit and travelled the Krosmoz, in search of our new home. After decades where we came up empty-handed, we were about to throw in the towel—.”

“When you found the World of Twelve.” Amalia finished for her, having heard enough to connect the dots on her own. “So that’s why you need help with earning the Twelvians’ trust, because, much like the Mechasms, to them you’re outsiders who might wish them harm?”

“I won’t deny it hurts to be on the receiving end,” Nora admitted. “But given what we went through, I’d be lying if I said I don’t understand where they’re coming from either.” She glanced back at the mural. “Maybe if we’d been half as wary of the Mechasms as the Twelvians are of us, the war wouldn't have happened and we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Even though Amalia understood—now more than ever—Nora was speaking from a place of pain, she still couldn’t help the painful thud that resonated in her ribcage at her words. If the Eliatropes had never arrived at the World of Twelve, then she would have never met them. She would have never met Yugo… 

Wait, if the Eliatropes had never settled on their world, then the gods would have had no reason to give them their blessing and try to ensure they maintained a positive relationship with their followers. Without the Eliatropes, she would have never existed…

The realisation hit her like a lightning strike, causing her pulse to spike up while, paradoxical as it was, the flow of the blood in her veins slowed down dramatically. In that state where she toed the line between anxious and numb, Amalia’s jumbled thoughts drowned out Nora’s voice, whatever she was saying then amounting to nothing but white noise. 

The doll buried her hands in her emerald locks, her brown eyes frantic as a million thoughts ran through her mind. She had never given it much thought until now, but suddenly, the very idea of not having been born at all terrified her to her core. 

Could it be that she served no purpose without—?

“My, my, my. What do we have here?” A chillingly cold voice rumbled. “Is it not enough that you have seduced our king, that now you must dig into our past as well?” 

The sound of that voice broke Amalia out of her stupor, while the sheer venom dripping from it froze her to her core. She didn’t even need to turn around to know whom it belonged to. 

“Efrim!” Nora gasped, as taken aback as the petrified doll. 

Slowly, no doubt afraid of what she might encounter, Amalia turned around, flinching when she locked eyes with the dragon, a cold fury making those pools of dark blue come alive as they narrowed in on her. The sapphires turned into ice shards. 

Nora soon came to her rescue, coming to stand between the two with her palms raised up in a placating manner. “It’s not what it looks like, Efrim. Amalia didn’t go digging for anything, I took her here on my own volition; she didn’t even know what I’d be showing her!”

“You needn’t come to her defence, Sister.” Efrim told her gravelly. Even though he was talking to his twin, his eyes looked past her and straight at the doll. “There is no doubt in my mind she manipulated you into telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.”

“That’s not true!” Amalia found herself exclaiming. Once she was past the initial surprise she felt for having stood up to the dragon, she steeled her resolve and pushed through. “Efrim, I understand what happened with the Mechasms probably left a deep scar but—.”

“You know nothing!” Efrim bellowed, his voice booming around the caverns of the palace. Aggravation, fury, and hatred took hold of his body; his shackles raised, his tail thumped against the floor almost rhythmically, and his crystalline wings unfolded over his form. 

Amalia barely had time to marvel at their beauty as they glinted under the bulbshroom light when he snarled, his fangs bared. “You do not know what it is like to be betrayed by someone you trusted with your life! You do not know what it is like to see your loved ones get hurt and feel powerless to stop their suffering! You do not know what it is like to lose everything you have ever known and loved!”

With every word he spouted, he slithered closer and closer to the doll, who, much to her chagrin, couldn’t do much besides stick closer to Nora, who still stood between the two, acting like a wall as she tried to protect Amalia. Deep down, she knew she could use her powers to protect herself, but the fact that it would only confirm Efrim’s suspicions if she attacked him, even if it was in self-defence, kept her from simply ensnaring him with one of her vines. 

And even if she didn’t care about proving Efrim right, she found she couldn’t move at all. A deep, primal fear taking hold of her whole body as the dragon advanced menacingly.

Nora’s startled gasp was all the warning she got. Before she knew it, Efrim had lunged himself towards her, his claws outstretched. She could only watch as Nora opened a portal right in the middle of her twin’s trajectory, only for the dragon to manoeuvre around it at the last possible second and collide right into the Divine Doll, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Her heart clamouring in her ears, she tried to squirm out of Efrim’s grasp, but it was all for naught; he had her pinned against the floor with his tail, while he immobilised her hands by grabbing her by her wrists and over her head. 

Her brown gaze widened in terror at the close proximity of his fangs, glinting dangerously as he smirked down at her. “Some demigoddess you are.” He sneered disdainfully. “For all your flashy moves and fancy dolls, you can’t even use your powers to protect yourself. Yugo won’t always be there to protect you, you know?”

“Efrim, stop!” Nora pleaded, horrified by the lengths her twin was willing to go. But he just ignored her. 

“And to think you have the gall to say you understand.” He scoffed, his dark blue eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear. “You’ll never understand what it's like to suffer, Little Doll. And I’ll make sure you don’t get to hurt anybody else!”

Amalia gasped, letting out a strangled sound as tears ran down her cheeks when Efrim loosened her grip on her to raise one claw high in the air, ready to strike her down. Paralysed by more than just Efrim’s grip on her, she could only brace herself for the worst. She closed her eyes shut, praying to Sadida that it would at least be over soon, begging him not to punish Yugo and his people for the mistakes of one single Council member. 

When after what felt like an eternity nothing happened, she tentatively opened one eye, the scene unfolding right in front of her tearing another gasp from her throat. 

Efrim had indeed brought his claw down, but instead of tearing right through her as she feared, it was stuck in the ground, in the space right beside her head. Even when all she could hear was her frantic heartbeat in her ears, she could still distinctly feel the way her heart sputtered and constricted in her ribcage, fear and relief clashing against each other in a frenetic dance.

Her breath hitched when Efrim carefully lifted his arm back up and he leaned closer to her once more, his voice, raspy and unforgiving, barely above a whisper. “The only reason I don’t finish this right here and now is because, as of now, your demise would do more harm than good to my people. And only because of that. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Just as the dragon leaned back to look down at the terrified doll scornfully, a blue wakfu tendril shot forward and gripped his wrist tightly, holding Efrim’s claw back, while another wrapped itself around his torso and pulled him away from the Sadida Doll, eliciting a surprised yelp from the dragon. As Amalia scrambled to straighten herself and crawled as further away from him as possible, she took notice of Nora using her magic to hold her brother back.

“Efrim, that’s enough!” She screeched, grunting as she used every ounce of her strength to pull her twin back and away from Amalia. 

Her eyes widened when, rather than resist, Efrim just replied calmly, “Fear not, Sister. As long as she is of use to our people, no harm will befall the doll.” He flashed Amalia a side-glance that froze her to the core, the unspoken threat hanging heavily between them. “You have my word.”

Having said his piece, the young dragon wasted no time in wriggling out of his sister’s constraints, breaking the wakfu binds with as much ease as if they had been made out of mere paper. Before either of them could so much as call out to him and tell him to wait, Efrim had already spread out his crystalline wings and taken flight, a cloud of dust picking up after him. And just like that, he was gone, his silhouette shrinking more and more with each flap of his wings.

Nora remained unresponsive for a spell, her pink eyes fixed on her twin’s retreating form, before everything that happened finally caught up to her and she hurried to help Amalia up, frantically looking her all over to make sure she was alright. But even as Nora apologised profusely on her twin’s behalf and assured her she would take care of it, and begged her to, please, don’t say anything to Yugo because things had been tense between Efrim and their older brother and she didn’t want to make things worse, Amalia was only half-listening. In fact, not unlike Nora a few seconds ago, she, too, had yet to tear her brown gaze away from the direction the young dragon had left.

Her heart still echoing in her ears as she stared at the space Efrim occupied just a mere minutes before, her mind was elsewhere. Her run-in with him and his harsh words and even harsher truths replaying in her mind over and over. 

[whencyclopedia]

Pegasus

Pegasus (or Pegasos) is a winged-horse from Greek mythology which was fathered by Poseidon and was born from the severed neck of the gorgon Medusa, slain by Perseus. At the same time and in the same way, Chryasor was also born. Poseidon gave Pegasus to his son Bellerophon who put Pegasus to good use in his famous battle with the Chimaera.

The myth of Bellerophon begins with the hero visiting Tiryns and enjoying the hospitality of the city's king Proitos. However, trouble started when Stheneboia, the king's wife, fell in love with the hero and made inappropriate advances. Bellerophon, being a good guest, politely rejected these advances but predictably, Stheneboia saw red and went before the king and accused the visitor of attempting to seduce her. In punishment, Bellerophon was sent by Proitos to serve his father-in-law Iobates, King of Lykia. On arrival, Bellerophon was set a series of dangerous and impossibly difficult tasks, chief amongst them being to destroy the fearsome and rather bizarre Chimaera. This fire-breathing creature was a terrible mix of a lion's body with a snake for a tail and the head of a goat sprouting from its back. To aid him in this task, Bellerophon was fortunate to have at his disposal Pegasus. In some accounts he found the horse at the fountain of Pirene near Corinth, and Hesiod suggests this fact explains the name Pegasus, derived from 'water'- pēgē. Taming the horse with the help of Athena, Bellerophon rode (and flew) Pegasus and managed to kill the monstrous Chimaera with his spear.

Bellerophon and Pegasus went on to enjoy further success with other challenges Iobates set the hero including a battle with the Amazons. However, becoming rather boastful and thinking he could fly high enough on his winged steed to take his place amongst the immortal gods, Bellerophon was thrown by Pegasus and fell unceremoniously back to earth. Meanwhile, Pegasus kept on going and on reaching Mt. Olympus, he was given to Eos who was responsible for bringing Dawn across the sky each day. According to Hesiod in his Theogony, Pegasus also brought Zeus his thunder and lightning whenever needed.

Pegasus is also credited with creating a number of springs with a stamp of his hoof. Most famous of these were the Hippocrene spring on Mt. Helicon, close to the grove sacred to the Muses, and the spring at Troezen.

Pegasus appeared on Greek pottery, the earliest being Corinthian wares from the 7th century BCE. Pegasus was also a popular design on coins, in particular from Corinth from the 6th century BCE. A famous representation in sculpture is from the pediment of the Temple of Artemis on Corcyra (c. 580 BCE). The Bellerophon and Pegasus myth was also a popular subject in Roman art - especially engraved semi-precious stone cameos and floor mosaics - where the horse became symbolic of immortality.

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[songsofadelaide]

Race Against the Sunset

cw/tw: Duke Fraldarius Felix x Princess reader, Azure Gleam route spoilers, no use of yn, childhood friends to lovers, family drama and trauma, long flashback, swordsmanship references, mentions of the deaths of loved ones, marriage of convenience turned loving marriage. wc: 16k (I am going to cry again) ୨୧ This fic will not use 'yn' and instead follow my usual naming convention. Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. The name isn't mentioned often and is just for my preferences since I find it jarring to write 'yn' frequently. Thank you for understanding!

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

The succession crisis between the two princes of House Blaiddyd was played out like a melodrama. Birth order meant little in the Kingdom, where a singular truth prevailed time and again: those born with Crests were destined for greatness, and the Crestless would have to settle for what would be handed to them. 

You were born to your parents on the fifth day of the Harpstring Moon in Imperial Year 1163, four months after the birth of your cousin, who would become the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Dimitri's birth overshadowed yours, a fate your father believed you shared, given his position as a king who never became. 

Much to everyone's amazement, Prince Rufus doted on you immensely, so much that he seemed more human than the decrepit stand-in many thought him to be. Your father loved you dearly. How could he not? When you were born with the very thing he lacked, the blessed blood that made him so different from his younger brother, the sole reason he fell so short of becoming the king himself. Rufus cared not that you were born from a mistress mother. You were his blood— and his salvation. 

…But mistress was hardly the correct term to refer to your mother. She hailed from a cadet branch of House Charon and was a distant relative of the current head of the ancient house. That must explain the auspicious mixing of blood between the descendants of Blaiddyd and Charon, which resulted in you being born with a Minor Crest of Blaiddyd— the very same one your cousin possessed. 

When the plague swept through Faerghus, not only did it claim the life of the Kingdom's beloved Queen Consort, but your mother's as well, leaving your father and Grand Duchy household to care for you as you grew older. Rufus had no time to mourn his muse, and it was only after an exchange of condolences between the brothers that the king caught wind of the one thing that kept his older brother sane.  

King Lambert was only made aware of his niece's existence when she turned five years old, a time in which he also searched for appropriate companions for the crown prince. On your fifth birthday, your uncle sent you many an exquisite gift from the capital— a lovely dress the colour of Blaiddyd azure, a tailored coat made of the finest winter fox pelts, a box of delectable sweets from the city's best pastry shop, an ornamental dagger with a mindfully crafted leather hilt— a kind that fit your little hands perfectly— and a letter of invitation to Fhirdiad. While it was addressed to you, it was clear from the tone that it was meant to be read by your father, who only looked at the gifts in disdain. 

Rufus knew the truth behind the gifts and what you symbolised to the nobles of the Kingdom, especially those in the capital. Your existence was a threat to the current state of things and perhaps this invitation was Lambert's way of ascertaining his brother's allegiance to the Crown.

Yet he could not deny the truth of the matter, too. You were part of the Royal Family as much as he was… And the fact that your governess suggested a higher form of education for you only compounded his thoughts. 

"Papa, look! It's so beautiful!" 

Lifting his tired blue eyes from the letter sent by his younger brother, a smile lit his dire face when he saw you don the pristine white coat and twirl around at his feet, your sweet laughter of delight ringing in his ears. 

The coat was of exquisite quality, its paleness further highlighting the features you inherited from your mother— and it pulled at your father's heart so. Many thought him incapable of loving anyone other than himself, but it was clear from the way he tenderly spun you around as you danced that he cherished you. 

"And how beautiful you are, my little star." 

And there was no way that he would let you out of his sight, not even at the king's command.

"The Grand Duke of Itha, Prince Rufus Thierry Blaiddyd, and his daughter, Princess Imogene Aislinn Blaiddyd."

In Imperial Year 1168, Rufus was astounded by the fanfare and celebration that marked his daughter's first visit to the Kingdom capital, and among those who received you at the castle town were the king himself and the crown prince. He had his watchful eye on you as you gracefully curtsied in obeisance to your uncle the king and your cousin the crown prince. The look on Lambert's face softened as he bent down on his knee to receive your little gloved hand in his. "The honour is all ours, my little niece. I know you must be rather tired from your travels, but Dimitri insists on introducing you to his friends…"

"Oh! You're wearing the coat I chose for you! I'm so happy you like it!" Dimitri remarked with a smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. His face was framed with the same golden hair as your father. "Did you… like our gifts for you?"

"Yes, I did! Even the little cakes were so delicious!" You beamed at the boy dressed in the same Blaiddyd azure as you were, happily recalling the afternoon you shared the said sweets with your father and your governess. The castle at Itha Plains had been your home all your short life, with your father, your governess, and the household staff the only people you've known so far…

"Come with me. I would like to introduce you to my friends," the boy said with an outstretched hand. You hesitated and turned to your father, who only gave you a short yet apprehensive nod of assent. 

"Very well, Your Highness. I—" You stated as you placed your gloved hand in his open palm, and he grasped you with a tremor that called your attention to his face once more. 

"You need not call me that, mine cousin. You and I are family. We are cousins— and you are the only one I have in the world."

Your astonished eyes met his wide blue ones, the weight of his statement still settling in your mind. Dimitri was your cousin, bound by the shared blood of your fathers, and just as he was the crown prince, you were a princess of this country, too. "Very well, Dimitri. I would very much like to meet these friends of yours."

"Such a pretty girl can only take after her mother. Caitlin must be pleased," Lambert remarked as he eyed the children's retreating figures. While you had a semblance of your father, it was your mother's soft features that stood out more when you first came face to face with your uncle. "It does my heart good to see you well, brother." 

Rufus was quiet in his place as he eyed the city alight with merriment. The plague that ravaged the country struck Fhirdiad at its heart, but here it was, beating once more, the castle town so full of life that you'd mistake it for another place or another time. 

"The change is marvellous, wouldn't you agree? All of this was possible with the help of the talented Court Mage…"

He wondered how Lambert's grief did not blind him to the fact that so much had to be done in Fhirdiad if he wished for it to be a dignified place worthy of its glory as the capital of the Kingdom. He had to admit that this was a feat he could not have achieved without losing his mind in the process. 

Rufus nodded at his younger brother, the two of them in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "It is good to see you, brother."

There was a warmth in the king's face that unsettled his older brother, but it might have been the fact that Lambert was truly happy to host his niece and Rufus in Fhirdiad after many years. "You must tell me all about her. I doubt I'll have the time to speak with my niece myself now that she's with Dimitri. He was most excited to meet her…"

Dimitri's excitement was indeed obvious by the way he led you to his friends, most of whose names and stations you couldn't remember yet, but it was clear from the delighted looks on their faces that they were pleased to have finally met you, the Princess of Itha, and the crown prince's only known living cousin. 

But you heard the whispers as well— men who called you a "usurper"— and only understood the meaning of it all when you were reunited with your father later that day. Rufus did well to politely decline Lambert's later invitation to remain at the capital for the remainder of the week, citing your "homesickness" as the reason for your departure to Itha. 

He couldn't have you hearing those things. You were innocent… until he said otherwise. 

On the carriage ride back to your home, your father held your hand in his. "Did you enjoy your time at the capital, my little star?" 

You happily nodded your assent to his query. "Yes, papa! I had such a fun time with Dimitri and his friends! They were all so nice to me!"

A dark-haired boy was particularly awestruck by your presence, evidently surprised to see the resemblance between you and your cousin firsthand. The nameless boy shyly yet quickly stuffed his present into your small hands, and you held onto it for the rest of the day, the pretty wrapping paper crinkling in your grip. You were only able to ascertain what it was when the ribbons eventually came undone— a little decorative dagger with a blunt blade made of Mythril, the hilt delicately crafted with precious aquamarine stones.

"Will we come back again? To Fhirdiad? Dimitri said that I would always be welcome there… That we would always be welcome there. Because we are a family," you wondered aloud, the ornate dagger still in your hands. "I know that some of the people there hate me… but I would never take what isn't mine, papa. Madam Liadan told me that I shouldn't do it because it's bad… and the Goddess would punish me…"

Rufus was evidently surprised by your statement, which was far too forward for your age. He lamented the fact that he wasn't able to shield your ears from the mindless prattle of the Kingdom nobles under Lambert's file. 

Had he been the one… you would be his heir. The crown princess. He offered you no more words, but simply hoisted you on his lap and held you in his arms until you fell asleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day finally settling in your little bones. You clung onto the gifted dagger until you arrived back at Itha, refusing to part ways with it even as your father tucked you into bed. 

That night, you dreamed of a dark-haired boy in aquamarine, his hazel eyes disappearing into his smile as he held out a gloved hand to you. 

Following your first meeting, Dimitri often requested your presence at the capital. The boy only spent a day with you but already considered you one of the most important people in his life. Rufus received countless letters of inquiry and invitation and eventually relented— allowing you to visit every once in a while, especially since it was at the crown prince's behest. 

Your visits to Fhirdiad were often short but memorable. While you spoke of the trivialities of your life in Itha, Dimitri often talked about how wonderful it would be to have your constant support and presence with him at the capital. It almost sounded like he was asking you to move there. 

"It's nice to visit every once in a while… But papa has stressed the importance of my presence at home. As your future Grand Duke of Itha, I still have much to learn, and as do you, as our future King," you told him from across your table, laden with a spread of sweet tea and pastries for your tea party for two that afternoon. "Speaking of which, where is Uncle Lambert? I have not seen him since this morning."

"Father is on a campaign further north," the young prince replied to your query. "In Sreng."

"I pray to the Goddess for his safety…" You said rather quietly. "Surely they did not send him there unprepared…"

"You need not worry. Father has the finest men in the Kingdom riding by his side," Dimitri smiled at you. "Even I am not troubled in the least bit. Those men are his closest friends."

Friends. Your memory was jogged. 

"That reminds me… When I first visited Fhirdiad, one of your friends presented me with this lovely dagger," you started, carefully pulling out the tiny ornamental blade from your floral embroidered satchel. "I never got around to asking his name. Your friend with the pretty black hair, I mean."

Dimitri inspected the dagger and easily recognised who it was from by the colour of the gemstones that dotted the hilt. "You must be talking about Felix. He is the second son of Rodrigue, who serves as my father's right hand at present."

"Felix…" 

"If you'd like, mine cousin, I can ask Felix to come here as well on your next visit," Dimitri stated as he returned the dagger to you. "That way, you can thank him for his present."

"I would like that!"

"Your Highness," one of the house's older female servants arrived at the garden where your tea party was being held and gave a quick bow to your cousin. "Your weapons instructor is here. It is time for your lessons."

"Is that so?" Said the boy with a frown. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut our tea time short…"

"Weapons instructor? You mean you study how to use weapons?" You asked rather curiously. 

"Yes. I will have to learn how to properly wield Areadbhar, the Hero's Relic entrusted to our family, though I am still not allowed to hold it, of course…" he replied, catching the curious yet crestfallen expression on your face. "You are to be the Grand Duke of Itha in the future. I believe you should at least know the basics of wielding a weapon. Would you… like to come with me, mine cousin?" 

Dimitri saw the shine of wonder that lit your eyes this time, your excitement clearly uncontainable as you leaped off your chair. "Oh, can I really?!" 

"Of course you can. I will have someone prepare a change of clothes for you," he said with the same warm smile as he beckoned the elderly servant to do as he had told. "But I must warn you. Gustave is a strict teacher. Just as he does not take it easy on me, he will not take it easy on you, too."

And not only was he strict, but an incredibly effective teacher. Despite his apprehension, Gustave was able to drill down the first principles of swordsmanship into you, even as you struggled in the lengthy trousers lent to you by your cousin. He sensed the same potent strength within you so akin to the king— and the crown prince… the blessedness of your blood. 

The power of a Crest. 

The feel of a sword was so different from holding but a mere dagger. You felt its weight in its entirety, dragging your shoulders down unless you put your back into lifting it. As you practised your swings with a blunted iron sword, Dimitri held an iron lance in his slightly larger hands, watching you sweat at your diligent efforts.

"Why did you teach her the sword, Gustave? Aren't axes and lances your specialty?" 

"The sword is easy to teach to a beginner, Your Highness. It seems she has taken a shine to it, too," the older man stated, his tired blue eyes drawn to the corner where you stood, cutting through the air with the dull weapon he chose for you. "I do not want to cause any trouble by teaching her the lance. The princess, she… She must not get the idea that she, too, can wield your family's Hero's Relic. Not only is it a weapon of old, it is a symbol of your sovereignty. She must never aspire to even just hold it in her hands." 

As your visits to the capital grew more frequent, the time you spent with your father grew less. Rufus always made time for you whenever you asked, but it was clear that he was busy with the affairs of Itha and many other discussions that required his attention more and more. Contrary to your initial thought that he would get angry at the swordsmanship lessons you had with Gustave at Fhirdiad, your father was amazed at your skill and the progress you have made so far. 

In fact, Rufus was so pleased with your efforts that he purchased a rapier of excellent quality for you. You and Dimitri only admired it from inside its sheath and leather case as you continued your lessons with the red-haired knight, who marvelled at your shared strength and skill, which was clearly a family trait. 

Gustave no longer looked at you with unease and trepidation whenever he instructed you but with a newfound admiration, especially on the rare occasions when he permitted you and the prince to spar against each other. You declared outright, after all, that you wielded your blade in the service of your king and your crown prince. 

The skirmish between the two young royals would often draw the attention of many knights and squires in the training grounds, who watched in awe at the sight of your shared exerted effort. Many have learned to watch out for stray sparks and splinters whenever your weapons broke apart from yours and the crown prince's sheer strength.

Dimitri was a fierce opponent even at your young age. He never went easy on you but did his best to match your ferocity. You possessed similar Crests which meant you stood on equal ground, even though you were a girl. You didn't see any shame in losing to each other, either, but often considered each loss a learning curve. Your hands— now callused after how many moons of arduous training with the blade— no longer shook as your training sword clashed against your cousin's training lance. 

It was during that sparring match that you encountered the boy who gifted you the aquamarine dagger once more, his present now one of your most prized possessions. 

"So the rumours were true. You have been training the Princess of Itha as well, Sir Gustave. I can only imagine the number of weapons they've already broken," said an older boy with the same long and dark hair as Felix. He eyed the bout between the royal cousins and was both amazed and troubled at how well you could hold yourself against the prince. "It seems His Highness has found himself a stimulating training partner. That saves me some of the exhaustion, at least."

"Well met, Glenn. The princess has proven to be a keen student herself," the older knight stated as he acknowledged the presence of the two brothers. "She will be an asset to the Kingdom in time of need." 

An asset is what many wished you'd be, but there was no denying the disquieting possibility that you may be used against the Royal Family— even though you were part of it, too. 

"Well, here she is, Felix. A far cry from when you last saw her, huh?" The older boy, Glenn, chuckled as he placed a hand on his younger brother's head of dark hair. "You should join them. I'm sure Sir Gustave wouldn't mind another head to look after."

"You're free to join them, Felix. I know you've sparred with His Highness before, but I must warn you that the princess is not someone to be underestimated," Gustave said as he walked over to the centre of the castle training ground to call for a truce between the sparring cousins. 

Felix stood there, his warm hazel eyes following the length of the prince's spear as its blunt pointed end met with the dull edge of your training blade. Dimitri lowered his weapon as his blue eyes fell to your face, a look of concern washing over him when he saw a small scratch on your cheek. He quickly reached out to cup your grazed cheek, but you only laughed as you gently swatted his hand away.

"Are you hurt anywhere else? I must have not noticed…" 

"I'm fine, Dimitri! I swear!"  

It was only when Gustave gestured towards the direction of the spectating young noble that you noticed him, another smile lighting up your face as you and your cousin made your approach. 

"Felix! It's good to see you!" Said Dimitri as he held you by your hand. "My cousin had been looking forward to seeing you again."

"Your Highness," came Felix's rather distant and embarrassed greeting to his friend. He echoed the same sentiment as he finally came face to face with you this time. "Your Highness."

"H-Hello," came your nervous salutation. "I-I wanted to say thank you f-for your present when we first met."

"You're welcome, Your Hig—" 

"You can call me by my name," you stated a bit more confidently this time. "A-Are you here because Dimitri said I wanted to see you again?" 

"I— I am, my lady," the dark-haired boy sputtered as he shifted his gaze from you to the prince, who had a pleased smile on his face that slowly shifted into a chuckle. 

"She said she did not need such formality, Felix. Just as you and I are friends, so are the two of you now," said Dimitri as he reached for his friend's gloved hand. He then brought your hand forward and engaged in a three-way handshake. "Now then, shall we call it a day? I believe you and Felix have a lot of catching up to do." 

"W-We do?" Came your sheepish query. A soft laugh left your lips as you placed a warm hand on the back of your neck. "Well, if… If Felix i—"  

"A-Actually, I would like to c…" Felix stepped up with a more determined expression on his face. "I would like to challenge you to a sparring match, Princess." 

"I—"

"I-If you're amenable to that, of course!" 

"I'd like that very much! I'm sure Dimitri is bored stiff having to spar with me all the time."

"I'm pretty sure you're talking about yourself," the young prince said with a smile and a small sigh of defeat. "Well then, carry on, my dear cousin. If Felix is here, then I'm certain Glenn is as well. He shall be my training partner."

Dimitri approached Gustave and gestured in your direction, clearly advising the older knight of your intention to spar with the second son of House Fraldarius. You adjusted your training clothes and trousers, picked up your sword once more and took a deep breath. 

From your lessons with your governess, you knew that House Fraldarius is a family of warriors. Rodrigue earned his title as the Shield of Faerghus for defending the king in their last military excursion to Sreng. His eldest son, Glenn, was a knight in the making and Dimitri's preferred training partner, seeing as the older boy could keep up with the prince's stamina. 

It was clear from his movements that Felix had the build and stride of a child at ease in battle. Such was their family's claim to success, apart from the fact that they, too, were the progeny of one of the Ten Elites. Your opponent shed his winter coat, a striking aquamarine blue with a collar made of the same fine winter fox pelts his family could afford. In his hands was a similar training sword, and in his eyes was a spark— an obvious exhilaration at having to do battle with an unfamiliar adversary. 

"I won't go easy on you just because you're a princess," he said as he raised his blade and assumed his battle stance. "Just because you're my friend."

His statement was bold yet bright, compelling you to step up to the occasion with the same excitement filling your chest up to your throat. You steadied your feet and raised your blade in response to his declaration. "I welcome the challenge! Come at me, then!"

In Imperial Year 1171, the Saintess, Cornelia, welcomed an Imperial lady to her home, and the King was so besotted by her that he married her in the shadows. Lady Patricia was a kind woman who raised the prince as her own, and yet… There was a certain sadness to her that you couldn't quite put a finger on. It was during one of your visits to Fhirdiad that you were introduced to each other, and the older woman warmed to the idea of having you around as her company.  

That same year, a girl from the Empire arrived in Fhirdiad, too— and there were whispers about her being a princess, too. You saw the delight that lit your cousin's face whenever he spent time with her, a girl whose air of precocious maturity matched the rumoured title she held. The girl, who simply introduced herself as El, taught you and Dimitri how to dance, and took pleasure in gently commanding your movements. 

"You need to learn how to dance, too, Immie. You're a princess, after all!" 

The young prince could only laugh and smile to himself whenever you blundered a step as El's partner. He cherished this memory— of you and him dancing with the girl who wore Adrestian crimson amid the pale blue cold of Faerghus.

There was a sadness in her you couldn't quite comprehend as well, so akin and similar to that of your new aunt. You tried your best to make them feel welcome in the capital, Dimitri even more so, but you both lamented being unable to do anything to ease the burden of their loneliness. 

You could relate to them in a way, especially since you've been seeing your father less and less. The day you last saw him was on the annual New Year's hunt at the Itha Plains, which did not go as planned since Rufus was inebriated from the festivities the previous night. He, along with his counsel and companions, most of whom were family members of the Kingdom's western lords, rode deep into the thicket in the heart of the plains, closely followed by you and your attendants on horseback. 

While it didn't please you to see your father drunk beyond his wits, the very thing you couldn't stand back then was the sight of several noble-born women flocking around him. They lauded his missed strikes, the sound of their shrill voices nothing but grating to your ears. And it annoyed you even more that he relished the attention.

You took the minibow you were equipped with and released a single arrow that struck a startled forest fox, much to the surprise of your father and his counsel and companions. 

"Th… The first ki—" 

You did not even wait for the knight to finish his declaration and rode towards your father with an indignant expression before lowering your head in exaggerated, mock reverence. 

"May you have a blessed and bountiful hunt, Grand Duke," you coldly stated before riding off to the castle, leaving him behind with the rest of his men. You made your way to Fhirdiad not long after, not a single response from your father even after you sent word that you arrived there safely. 

Part of you wanted to return home to Itha to see him. To reconcile with him. But part of you also wanted him to suffer in silence. 

Your seemingly short visits to the capital soon turned into moons. And before you knew it, you were celebrating your birthday with your cousin's family rather than returning home to Itha. Your uncle and aunt were happy to have you there with them, but Lambert understood that you longed for your father, too, though your pride wouldn't allow you to admit it. 

The king presented you with many gifts from his side of the family, but there was one Dimitri did not recognise as theirs— another leather case that contained yet another sheathed blade. "This is from your father. I believe he also has a letter for you."

It was another exquisite sword for you, the Crest of Blaiddyd engraved onto its silver blade. Along with it came a thick fur scarf made of the striking scarlet pelt of forest foxes native to the Itha Plains. You tried to receive the presents without tearing up and only read your father's message in the silence and solitude of your bedchambers after all the festivities celebrated in your name.  

"Happiest Birthday, my little star.  May you use this blade to strike forth and cut a path to your destiny, which I am hard at work to see come to fruition.    Papa misses you so." 

The letter was brief and had little detail, but you could tell from the erratic handwriting that your father was grief-stricken in his attempt at reaching out to you. 

He would have to wait a bit longer. 

The following day was your birthday celebration with your friends, all of whom piled presents upon presents in your arms once more. Despite being Dimitri's friends originally, they welcomed you into the fold as part of their close-knit circle. Sylvain, the heir of House Gautier, gifted you with a classical board game you used to play with your father, while Ingrid, the daughter of Count Galatea, presented you with a pair of fine leather riding boots. 

This year, Felix gifted you yet another dagger, but this time was different, for he had given you a functioning toothed knife rather than another ornamental trinket. 

"The Itha Plains is one of the best hunting grounds in the Kingdom, and perhaps all of Fodlan. As its princess, you're bound to host hunts there sooner or later. I can only hope that this will serve you well," he stated, handing his present to you with a short bow. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Felix. And to everyone, too, for all your lovely presents! While all of these are so precious to me, the mere fact that you're here to celebrate this day with me warms my heart," you beamed at your circle of friends as they sat across from you, your table in the castle garden filled with sweet and savoury snacks and flowering tea. "I'll be going home tomorrow. As always, I'll carry my time here in my heart… And I hope to be back soon. For now, I have to speak to my father."

"Ah, that reminds me. Felix mentioned earlier that he can accompany you on your way back to Itha before he heads back to Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he lifted his head from his cup of tea. "Have you not told her yet, Felix?"

"How thoughtful of you, Felix. Though I must tell you now that I have no intention of riding by carriage," you replied to your cousin's statement with a smile before eventually turning towards the dark-haired boy. "I will go on horseback, giving me the perfect opportunity to break in these lovely boots Ingrid got for me."

"And that gives us the perfect opportunity to race, too, Princess," Felix said with a small snort of derision. "That is if you're not against getting those new boots dirty, of course."

"Wanna make a bet while we're at it, too?" You said with a laugh. "The loser will do whatever it is the winner wants."

"Deal."

Dimitri could only shake his head in defeat as he listened to your thoughtless wager. By nightfall, he came to visit your bedchambers one last time before you went your way home. He found you packing your belongings, among those the ornate aquamarine dagger Felix first gifted you years ago. It sat on your bedside table on a special wooden stand carved by one of Grand Duchy's household staff. 

You placed the toothed dagger next to the jewelled one and smiled to yourself. "I have so many knives and swords."

"It is a thoughtful gift. I don't know if this has been taught to you, but we from the Kingdom consider such weapons as tools of destiny. I believe Felix wishes for you to cut open a path forward for yourself…" 

For an object to hold such weight… 

"And though it might be purely ornamental, its message doesn't really change," Dimitri stated as he sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. "You are the Princess of Itha, but if there is anything else you wish to be, you… You have only to tell me. So we can discuss it."

"Well, I…" You started, a sheepish grin now on your face. "It might sound like a girlish dream, a-and maybe it is to you, Dimitri, but I…" 

You beckoned him to lean down so that you could whisper your tender dream in his ear. A gentle laugh left his lips as he nodded to himself. "I think we can do something about that."

"But I will continue doing my best… so that he'll like me for who I am."

"I'm pretty sure he already likes you as much, my dearest cousin."

By daybreak the following morning, a retinue from the Grand Duchy Army was prepared to receive you, and they were surprised to see that you'd already mounted your horse, opting away from the carriage they readied for you. 

Riding beside you was the second son of House Fraldarius, his dark hair already tousled by the calm morning breeze. Several Fraldarius soldiers tasked with his protection shuffled into your retinue's line. 

"We'll race when we catch sight of Itha Castle," you declared as you gave your steed a gentle kick, prompting it forward. "For now, we have all the time in the world to talk, Felix. Have you thought of a prize if you win?"

"I have," came the boy's silent but confident response. 

"I suppose I should think of one now, then."

"We have all the time in the world," Felix echoed your sentiment with a small smile on his face. "Consider it carefully, Princess."

From a view of a map, the Itha Plains was but a stone's throw away from Fhirdiad, but travel to and from still took at least half a day. The boy riding next to you asked you questions about your early childhood— from before you knew him— and even went so far as to ask you about your intentions in the future. 

"I know that many still think I am a usurper… And that no matter how much time I spend in the capital, they will still look at me like I would intentionally cause a succession crisis," you said with a defeated chuckle, but not before raising your eyes to meet his gaze, your vision unclouded and clear of any hint of deception. "I've said it before and I will say it again— I've no intention of taking what isn't mine. When the time comes and if the need ever arises, I will fight for the Kingdom as Dimitri's sword. I've no intention of being Queen." 

"That's reassuring to hear." 

"I'm glad to hear you think that, our future Duke Fraldarius."

By the time the afternoon sun had made its way up in the sky, you and Felix had already spoken about nearly everything you could— and you already spotted your castle's first turret from across the horizon. 

"Race you," you declared to him, gathering your horse's reins before giving it a small yet impactful smack on its behind. Your steed picked up its pace as the path towards the castle slowly tapered upward. While you were sure you had a headstart, you caught a flash of aquamarine in the corner of your eye. Your horses were sprinting alongside each other at what seemed to be equal speeds, but you could only laugh out loud as Felix and his steed narrowly edged you out and arrived at the castle courtyard mere seconds before you could. 

"Welcome home, Princess," the dark-haired boy stated with a small smirk on his fine face. "Expect to see me again soon." 

"I eagerly await that day, Felix," you said with a smile and a nod. "Thank you for taking the time to accompany me back to Itha. Please take care on your way home."

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? Last I heard from you, you arrived at Itha safe and sound. It does my heart well to know that you made it back home safely.

I only heard from Rodrigue the other day that you spent about a week in Fraldarius at Felix's request. I thought your loss would teach you not to make such ill-considered gambles in the future, but it seems you enjoyed your time there with Felix and his family… Are you perhaps grateful for that loss? It sounded like a win either way.

I am more surprised at how you and Felix managed to convince Uncle Rufus to permit you to go on that excursion. The old man watches over you like a hawk, as far as I know. Regardless, I hope you had fun. 

El says she misses you. I do, too. 

I hope to see you again soon. Please tell me all about your trip to Fraldarius. I am pleased to hear that you and Felix are getting along so well. 

Sincerely yours, 

Dee."

"Dearest Dee,

How fare you, my dearest cousin? I have been well and I hope you are, too. I apologise for my lack of communication with you lately… and for the lack of visits to Fhirdiad. Papa and I had a lot of catching up to do. 

Let us just say we have reconciled and leave it at that. Papa apologised for his mindless actions the last we met and I apologised for my impetuousness. 

Can I ask you how you felt when Uncle Lambert remarried? I am not too keen on the idea, but I suppose papa is still a man… I just wished he would choose his companions wisely.  

And as you already know, I spent quite a vacation at the dukedom. It was not so much a vacation, really, but more of a training camp. From sun up to sun down, Felix and I have done nothing but spar, hunt, and maintain weapons. Lord Rodrigue almost sent me home when Felix made out with their family's Hero's Relic without permission. It's a terrifying thing, isn't it? A Hero's Relic. The shield almost seemed alive and breathing to me. I shudder at the thought of having to wield something so… grotesque. But you've been training for that your whole life. 

I miss El terribly, too. And you, too, of course. 

I'll tell you all about my trip to Fraldarius when I visit Fhirdiad again soon. For now, stay warm and stay safe.

Yours truly,

 ■"

In Imperial Year 1176, your uncle the king perished in the Tragedy of Duscur, along with many other knights and vassals of the Kingdom. Duke Fraldarius lost his son Glenn in the clash, too, and you couldn't shake the thought that something more nefarious occurred in what should have been a peaceful diplomatic mission. 

And even as you pleaded in tears to be allowed to go to Fhirdiad to see your cousin, who had just lost his own father, Rufus did not permit you to go. 

"The Grand Duke is right, Princess. There is no need for you to rush," the Saintess, Cornelia, whom your father had taken as one of his closest companions in more recent times, also dissuaded you from heading to the capital. She spoke of the right moment to make your appearance, which was strange since you wanted nothing but to be by Dimitri's side at that time. 

…Something about your father's calmness about the catastrophe unnerved you. His reaction was almost inhuman, but you didn't want to give it too much thought. He could have been shocked, for all you knew…

By the time you were finally allowed to visit Fhirdiad, your father's regency had been finalised, and the nobles of the capital and the castle's household only seemed to look at you with even more contempt. You did not see much of your cousin even though you remained in there for his sake. The lords loyal to the late king evidently did not want you around the crown prince, either. 

You were almost violently rebuffed that one time you tried to help Dimitri when he was having a panic attack. His unfamiliar guardian from a foreign land shoved you away and spoke to you in broken sentences— both in the language of Fodlan and Duscur. It was only when your cousin placed a reassuring hand on the imposing boy's shoulder and explained to him who you were that he was able to quiet down.

"She is my cousin, Dedue. The only one I have in the world."

Dimitri, who was the sole survivor of the tragedy, was inconsolable for the first few moons after the horrific incident, and even you could not pick up your sword to train without being reminded— without imagining the hellscape he endured and survived— and the eerie feeling that clawed at your chest when you recalled your father's unbothered expression when he received the news of his brother's death. 

Whispers of your father's involvement in your uncle's death did not help your reputation in the capital, either, and the fact that Rufus did little to disengage himself from the rumours only compounded the frigid treatment you've been receiving from the nobles and the castle staff. 

The only ally you ever had was gone, too, driven away by his shame. Everyone had the same response when you asked about Gustave's whereabouts— "He's gone."

At Felix's behest, you were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said… But not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

It was Rodrigue who implored you to return to Itha while Dimitri gathered his bearings. He knew of the grievous treatment you endured in the capital, even more so now that Rufus preoccupied himself with the Saintess's company more than anyone else's.  

"His Highness will certainly ask for you once he has figured everything out, Princess. Return home for now. I'm certain you're tired of all the suspicion yourself."

And you did so, only because it was true that you could no longer abide by the royal household's disdain for you. You did not know that it would take Dimitri four years to reach out to you again, the boy you knew changed beyond recognition. 

In Imperial Year 1178, Dimitri, the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Felix, a knight in the making and the Heir of House Fraldarius, were tasked with suppressing an insurrection in Western Faerghus. Many of the knights who accompanied them attested to seeing the prince roll over the rebels with maniacal bloodlust.  

You were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour. The incident prompted him to step away from his knightly vows, his sole intention now was to become a swordsman of unparalleled skill. 

You spent the past few years handling the affairs of Itha as the acting Grand Duke. As the regent, Rufus spent his days holed up in Fhirdiad under the thrall of the Saintess, Cornelia. He did not bother to manage the Kingdom, let alone reach out to his only daughter. 

…Though you knew for a fact that you may not be your father's only child now. 

You received no word at all from Dimitri, either, and you could only assume that he was busy with his responsibilities and studies as the crown prince. 

Or maybe he wanted nothing to do with you, either. 

Still, you handled the affairs of your home with all the knowledge and grace you possessed thus far. You often received wise counsel from the Head of House Gaspard, Lord Lonato, who once served as your father's retainer in their youth.

"Since it is now the Horsebow Moon, I suppose we should open a portion of the hunting grounds to the public…" You stated as you browsed through the stack of documents piling up on the desk in your father's office, which you have used as your own these last few years. "Oh, and the merchants and craftsmen from the Leicester Alliance should be accompanied by members of the plains' official hunting guilds. Many are unfamiliar with just how dangerous the grounds can be…"

Your elderly governess, Madam Liadan, now stood as your sole attendant and counsel while you were acting in an official capacity as the Grand Duke of Itha. She took pride in your expertise and manner of leadership as you steered your hometown in a direction that would benefit its people. 

"A word, Your Grace," came a knock outside the den. "Lord Felix of House Fraldarius has requested an audience with you."

"…Felix?"

True enough, your dearest childhood friend found his way to your home with only a handful of guards. His dark hair was grown out, now kept in a messy bun. His once warm hazel eyes stared down at you with a fierce coldness as he refused to dismount his horse, riding around you and your courtyard as you came face to face with him after how many years. 

"Ride with me, Princess," he stated with a small scoff. "Or are you content playing house and assuming a title that isn't even yours yet?"

"I—"

"We don't have to race this time," he said. "Just talk."

"Call for a stableboy to fetch Aureolin for me," you motioned to one of the household staff present to receive the heir of House Fraldarius. "And have one of the servants fetch my sword, the one from my father. I'm certain the heir of House Fraldarius did not just come here for a horse ride. Or to just talk."

"We shall have an attendant f—" Madam Liadan stated, only for you to cut her off with a mere wave of your hand. 

"There is no need for that, Madam Liadan," you said with a smile that did not reach your eyes. "Lord Felix is my friend. He and I have much to talk about, none of which is any of your business."

You heard a faint chuckle leave the said friend's lips as he steered his mount to the castle gates once more. 

"Receive his good men instead, please. Give them food and drink and allow their horses to graze," you instructed the household staff as you saddled and mounted your steed, Aureolin. "Shall we be off then, Felix?"

Your ride was quiet but meaningful, and it allowed you to rest your mind from all the noise of having to manage your household and lands. Felix noticed the pleased yet pensive expression on your face as he steadied the pace of his horse to match yours. He only spoke once you were in the heart of the plains, far from your meddling governess and the prying eyes of your father's loyal people. 

"Before everything else…" 

"Did you think I'd shirk my training just because I've been busy with paperwork, Felix?" You said with a low laugh as you swiftly dismounted Aureolin and unsheathed your sword. "Come. It's been a while since I had a worthwhile sparring partner."

The sounds of the grass in the plains crunching under your boots and the steel of your swords clashing quickly dissipated in the air, the open field unable to contain even your heavy breathing and heaving as you steadily held against your opponent. 

"Well, I'm glad all of that bureaucracy didn't dull your skill," Felix stated with a smirk and a small grunt as he parried your blow. Your bladework in your youth was wild and untamed, but your hands were more steady now, your strength measured and concentrated in a way that matched his own. "This cursed strength, though—!"

"You aren't so bad yourself," you said with a huff and a laugh. "Let's put our back into this, Felix!"

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

Here was his Gloriana, her sword arm unmatched and her skill unparalleled. 

Not that he would ever admit it.  

It was only after you both broke a sweat that you called in a draw. You sat next to each other on the grass, knees and elbows brushing as you each wiped your swords clean with your cloaks, like when you were children.

There was only the faint sound of a calm breeze and the gentle swaying of the grass and weeds as you worked up the blade of your sword. You ran your thumb over the engraving of the Crest of Blaiddyd before eventually asking, "How is Dimitri?"

"Here," Felix stated, further slicing through the silence that enveloped you. He pulled out a single sealed letter from the inner pocket of his cloak and handed it to you. "The boar… has been trying to reach you for the last four years. Did none of his letters ever reach you?"

Letters? From Dimitri? 

You shook your head. "No. Not at all…"

He sighed. "Figures. He said he sent you countless letters, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was your father's doing." 

"My father?"

"Are you so out of touch with reality that you're in denial about what's going on in the capital? The boar no longer has allies there," he scoffed at your ignorance. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you just because he's your father. He's doing a terrible job as the regent and if you're going to pretend to be blind to that fact, then you're just as terrible as he is." 

"Felix… My father hasn't reached out to me ever since he assumed the regency of the Kingdom. Ever since Lord Rodrigue urged me to return to Itha four years ago. I wrote him letters but received nothing in return," you stated with furrowed brows after hearing everything for the first time. "And Lord Rodrigue told me that Dimitri would call for me once he's figured things out. The last I heard about him was after the Western Kingdom rebellion. You were there with him. He… must have figured things out by then, but…"

You pursed your lips as you held the unopened letter in your hands. "Part of me thought he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Many of the nobles of the capital have made it clear that they hold nothing but disdain for me, after all."

"That's not true. The boar could never hate you."

"I feel so foolish," you said, swallowing a sob before it could escape your lips. "I should have stayed there with him."

Felix reached out and wiped away your tears with a callused finger. "No use crying over that now. And trust me— the boar— Dimitri doesn't hate you. He wouldn't have bothered with that letter if he did." 

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? It certainly has been a while. I can only assume that my previous letters never got to you. You would write to me as soon as you received one, after all. How can I be so sure? Because that is how we've always been. You are my only cousin in the world, the closest thing I have to a sister. You are a friend I know I can trust my life with, regardless of what other people think. 

I've been hearing much about your good work at Itha. Many claim that your political acumen is just as good as your father's, but we can do more about that. I know things must have been terribly lonely for you, yet you handled everything with ease and grace. 

I am writing to you once more to let you know that I intend to enroll in the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach next year. Many of our old friends, including Felix, will be attending as well, and nothing would give me greater joy than being reunited with you— and seeing you amongst the rest of the members of the Blue Lions House. 

Believe it or not, Uncle Rufus and I have spoken about your enrollment, too. He did not say much about it but only agreed, which was all the more surprising given that he hasn't spoken to you much these past few years. I would know since he kept no one else close to him but the Saintess. 

I hope you are taking care of yourself and I truly hope to see you again soon. And maybe we can discuss some of the things that happened back then.

Sincerely yours, 

Dee.

PS: Let us celebrate all the birthdays we missed out on because we were apart."

In Imperial Year 1180, you joined the Officers Academy at the same time as all of the other noble children of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, forming the Blue Lions House under Dimitri's leadership. It was there you were reunited with your cousin and childhood friends and heard the truth about his way of life these last four years— and why his letters never reached you.

You didn't want to believe it at first, but every detail made sense. The Tragedy of Duscur, the death of your uncle, the Western Kingdom uprising, and Dimitri's solitary confinement in his own home… Everything pointed to your father and his obsession with possessing the throne that was never meant for him.

"I'm sorry, Dimitri… All the signs were there in front of me, but I never… I never…" You said, your voice cracking as you sat across your cousin, the tea and sweets no longer appetising and inviting after everything you heard from him. And Dedue, who wanted nothing more but to trust you after everything your father has done. He did not believe in blaming children for their father's mistakes, but you had a mountain of doubt to climb and overcome if he and the rest of the house were to trust you completely.

"It is not you who has to apologise," Dedue stated. "His Highness said before that he trusted you with his life. If you are still that person, then you must prove it with your actions."

"I don't care if it's not my fault, either," you sobbed into your hands this time. "I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for what he's done, I swear…"

It was only after you calmed down and had your tea that Felix approached you, a dour expression on his face as he spoke directly to you, ignoring your companions. "Are you finally done with your whining? Spar with me, Princess."

"Spare me, Felix. I'm too spent to even think about picking up my sword. The monastery is huge and the academic year has just started. I'm sure there are many skilled people just as eager to test their mettle against an unknown quantity…" You replied with a hand on your temple. 

"I'll only be warming up with you," the dark-haired young man said with a scoff and a shrug. "You're right, after all. There won't be a lack of people to spar with here."

"Did you just call me a warm-up session, Felix?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know what? I'll have at you. I'm angry and need a way to blow off some steam, anyway."

"Are you calling me a cooldown session, Princess?" He snorted. "On second thought, it's good that you're angry. That means you won't hold back." 

While the peaceful school days gave you a sense of normalcy, those days did not last as long as everyone initially thought. Your latest mission saw the rescue of Baron Ochs's missing daughter Monica, who was found by your new mercenary friend in the bandits' hideout. Her reappearance opened a can of worms that needed to be cleaned out. Following the disappearance of the librarian Tomas, trouble and turmoil brewed in all three cornerstones of Fodlan simultaneously, like a masked puppeteer masterfully pulling strings— and everyone else along with it.

And unsettling as it was, the Blue Lions could only press forward into the truth you long sought, about who was truly running the show in Fhirdiad. 

But your enrollment was swiftly withdrawn following the dangerous revelation about the truth of the identity of the librarian Tomas. And though you protested, everything fell on your father's deaf ears. 

"He is right to be concerned about you, mine cousin," Dimitri told you as you shared a meal during what was supposed to be your last day of schooling. "And it would be wise not to anger him. That way, you can still convince him to return when the issue has died out." 

"But I don't want to go home," you said with a little grumble, absentmindedly poking your food with your fork. "Not after we've only reunited…"

"Scared of missing out on all the fun?" Felix sneered at you, to which you responded by stabbing the remaining teppanyaki in his place and scarfing it down whole. "Wh—! Hey!" 

You reluctantly parted ways with Dimitri and Felix and the rest of the Blue Lions House by order of the regent, your father. Ahead of your trek back home to Itha, you made a quick and unexpected detour to the Kingdom to see how he had been doing. 

"Welcome home, Your Highness!" 

You were welcomed by new Royal staff, all of whom took orders from the regent. Among those who received you at the castle town was a lord you were unfamiliar with by name, but you remembered him as one of your father's companions from the New Year's hunt.  

"Have you been well, Your Highness? Allow me to take you to His Grace." 

"Oh, thank you, uh…" 

"Viscount Kleiman at your service, Princess," the older man gave you a quick bow. "You would do well to remember my name and my face, especially in this coming era." 

This coming era?

You tried not to pay too much mind to the viscount's words and simply focused on who you came there for. "Has my father been well?"

"Perhaps you should see for yourself, Your Highness. I'm certain your presence will lift his spirits."

A strange chill danced up your spine as you were led to the former king's bedchambers, where Rufus paced and lounged these past few days. 

"Papa?" You called out to him as the aged wooden doors harshly creaked open, as though they hadn't been for quite some time. 

"Is that you, my little star?" 

Your father looked worn out, and it was evident from the rubbish that littered the room that he accepted no other company apart from the Saintess, Cornelia, who closely stood next to him. 

"Have you been well, papa? Oh, it's been so long…" You said, your voice cracking from both the joy and despair you felt as you stepped into your father's space. He was crowned with an unfamiliar circlet of precious blue steel, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look even more ragged and unhewn. He could only grasp your wrists in place as you lifted your hands to hold his face, your thumbs tenderly running over his cold cheeks. 

"His Highness h—" Cornelia started, only for you to shoot her a look that could have killed if only possible.

"With all due respect, Saintess. I wasn't talking to you." 

"How lovely you've grown, my little star," Rufus managed a small smile. It was his turn to gently hold your face in his freezing hands, which you tried not to notice. "Fret not. We won't be apart for long. You'll return to me once everything has been settled."

"What do you mean, papa? What will you do? What's going to happen?"

He did not answer your questions but only pressed a soft yet cold kiss on your forehead, the kind you were so used to receiving when you were a child. 

When it was just you and him.  

"Return to Itha, my little star. Stay there until I send for you," he stated as he turned away from you. "Go."

"But papa—!" You tried to reach for him, only to be rebuffed by the Saintess in crimson, barring you from approaching your father once more. 

"His Highness needs his rest, sweet princess. But worry not. It won't be too long until you remain here for good. This is your home, after all."

"The Itha Plains is our home, Saintess. You would do well to remember that."

"The Grand Duke has fought tooth and nail for his house's future. Your future, if we are being more specific, Princess."

The same eerie chill swept up your spine once more as you locked stares with the green-eyed mage. Still, you showed no hint of trepidation as you approached her. "I did not wish for him to fight for me. I wish for nothing but to spend time with my father, not the regent. And once Dimitri is crowned king, he and I will return to our home."

Cornelia smiled at you, her eyes void of emotion but her voice was still saccharine and sultry. It was no wonder your father was so enthralled by her. "Of course, Princess. Believe what you will."

The days blurred altogether as you resumed your management of Itha. You expected your father to send for you sometime soon, but what broke your routine was a lone Kingdom soldier allied with the Crown Prince, riding past your castle security with haste. 

"I have an urgent message for Her Highness, the Princess of Itha! His Highness and his counsel have sent for you!"

"What's going on? What happened?" You asked as you rushed past your household staff, not a care in the world with how undone you looked. 

"It's the regent, Your Highness! The Grand Duke seized complete control of the capital and declared war on House Fraldarius! He is calling for the annihilation of Lord Rodrigue and his family! He claims they are controlling His Highness!"

No. 

You felt your blood run cold at the revelation that was sent to you. All the signs yet again point to your father— and his fanatical, maniacal obsession with the throne. With killing Dimitri.   

"This conflict will only end with one of them dead," you said, your lip quivering in terror at the thought. "I… I will ride to Fhirdiad!"

"You will not, Your Grace! His Majesty will send for you once he has put the usurper to rout!" Madam Liadan declared as she barred your way to the stables. "Such is the price of peace—"

"There is no peace and there will be no peace even with one of them dead!" You shouted, swallowing the lump in your throat as you flung her out of your way. "Get out of my way, Madam Liadan. I will plead for my father's life if I have to."

"Y-You forget yourself, Princess! Everything he's done, he did for you! You would disrespect him by begging for his life— for leniency?! From a usurper?!" 

You once dreamed of officially inheriting the Itha Plains from your father. You dreamed of him accepting your choice of a husband. You dreamed of him as a grandfather, carrying your children— dark-haired, with eyes as warm as hazel and sunrise— and you dreamed of caring for him in his old age. You dreamed of a long life for him, far from all the melodrama he was initially born into… and a gentle death befitting the gentle father that he was to you. 

But no matter how good of a father he was to you, the weight of his sins to his family and the Kingdom hung heavy and low in the scale. He would pay the ultimate price for it. 

In your shock upon your arrival to Fhirdiad, in the aftermath of the succession crisis and Dimitri's resolution, you fell to your knees in tears of agony, crying and cursing yourself for arriving far too late— for never being enough for him to disregard the indignities of his youth.

"Hey!—"

The last thing you saw before blacking out entirely was Felix hurriedly reaching out to you. 

Finally, you dreamed of your father holding you in his arms as you made your way back to Itha following your very first visit to the capital, blissfully joyful and unaware of all that has yet to transpire. 

In the days that followed in the aftermath of the succession crisis, it was revealed that the Houses Elidure, Mateus, Kleiman, Rowe, Duval, and many other minor western lords played a part in the assassination of the late king. Dimitri's counsel worked swiftly to ensure your father's part in the ploy was also unveiled and made known to everyone in the Kingdom. You accepted that as the truth now. 

Your interrogation was conducted by Margrave Gautier, who accepted your statement as fact. Even if you had known anything, you would have related it to your cousin as soon as you could.

"The Princess of Itha has made it clear that she had no involvement in the matter and knew nothing about the coup," the older man related to the young king and the rest of his counsel. 

It made sense that you knew nothing of your father's scheme, for your role would come to pass in the future. For the pieces of his plan to fall into place seamlessly, you had to be blameless and unblemished. He kept you as far away as he could so he could present you as his faultless heir. Rufus would deal with the fallout in the years that followed. 

But your father was dead, and you were nothing else but a misplaced pawn. 

"I know," Dimitri stated. "How is she?"

"The princess is of sound mind if that is what you wish to know, Your Highness. I believe she is waiting for a chance to speak to you if you will permit it."

You remained confined under guard in your childhood bedchambers in the capital. This place was once filled with happy, joyful memories of your youth, but now it served as your prison cell. 

More of your father's misdeeds came to light when you last spoke to the Margrave, and though he does not blame you, he also made it clear that your presence would mean contention for Dimitri. For once, you found yourself cursing the very blood that flowed through your veins. You cursed the Crest you were born with that made your father aspire for things beyond his grasp. 

The indignities of your cousin's youth had yet to be repaid, and you swore to him that you would do so in kind for as long as he wished.

When Dimitri finally came to see you, you could only grasp his hands, unable to look him in the eye. "You've known where my heart and my loyalties lie ever since we were children, mine cousin. I swear to the Goddess. To our dead fathers… I no longer care what you wish to do with me, but believe me when I say not even once did I aspire to be Queen."

"I've known from the very beginning," he stated as he held your hands and quelled their shaking. "I believe in you. And I cannot cast you aside, even if you wish. You are the only family I have left… And I do not want for us to become like our fathers…" 

"We will never be like them," you strongly declared through your tears. "Never."

Dimitri and his counsel worked tirelessly to restore order to the capital before eventually extending their reach to the rest of the Kingdom. You assisted with implementing many of the reforms after being proven innocent of the regent's attempts at usurping the throne. 

You were used to the mistrust of the people, so much that you wished your cousin would delegate you tasks that required others to watch you carefully— just so you could prove that you meant him no harm. That your heart was nothing like your father's. 

Your fate, as the elephant in the room, was the topic of discussion in one of their recent councils, where they burned their candles at both ends to come to a resolution. While some of them voted to banish you from the Kingdom, others argued your possible usefulness to the king's cause, including Felix, who attested to your skill with the sword, which you previously pledged to Dimitri's service, whenever he asked for it.

As it stood, you remained a political prisoner granted remarkable leeway— so much so that you were still permitted to eat, train, and spend time with the prince and your friends, much like when you were children. 

"The matter with the princess is rather complicated. We simply cannot allow her to walk away from all of this," Margrave Gautier stated. "We cannot allow her to return to Itha, either, lest she be taken away by the remaining forces of the western lords—"

"—and be used as a symbol. A weapon against His Majesty," Rodrigue remarked.

"You're right. But she is no political prisoner. She is my family," Dimitri stated this time. "And she will be treated as such by everyone else while she is here."

Margrave Gautier turned to the young king. "If I may, Your Majesty. You said you trusted the princess. How can you be so sure that she will not betray you?" 

"Because she spoke the truth. She never wanted to be Queen, even when we were children. The highest thing she ever hoped to be was…"

A ghost of a smile made its way to the young king's face, only for it to disappear following several puzzled looks from his counsel. Felix was equally perplexed by the sight. 

"Unlike her father, she supports my claim to the throne and never once contested me for it. I'm certain that caused some kind of rift between them, but my uncle's desperation and determination to keep her away from the infighting only showed how much he cherished his daughter still…" Dimitri said with a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Since we're on the topic of what should be done with her, I may as well give you the best option. A way to ensure her loyalty to our cause… though I know we do not need such methods. It will require your approval, Rodrigue. But, ah… I suppose it would be more appropriate for the new Duke Fraldarius to have a say in it, since he is also part of this plan."

"What do you mean, boar?" Came Felix's incredulous quip, to which his liege only responded with a small but knowing smile. 

"All she's ever wanted to be is your wife, after all."

For Dimitri, there was no turning back anymore from what had already been done. The Kingdom called for his ascension and he cannot put it off any further, no matter how he tried to avoid it. A mountain of tasks lay at his feet ahead of his coronation and you were there to carve open that path for him, at least that was what you endeavoured to do after everything that transpired. When word reached you that Felix would soon become the next Duke Fraldarius, you pondered where your place would be in all of this. 

The Itha Plains, its surrounding lands, properties and territories have been consolidated under Kingdom rule in the meantime and all of the dealings you and your father previously signed off on have been effectively frozen. The new king will figure out what to do with the Grand Duchy once the more important issues have been resolved. 

While you were initially part of Dedue and Rodrigue's reconciliation campaign to Duscur, Dimitri has made indications that he will need you elsewhere, and that your father's sins are not yours to bear. But until he speaks to you about it, you will continue your work as a basic weapons instructor in the Kingdom, alongside the mysterious mercenary from your academy days, the one who possessed a power so eerily similar to that of "Tomas" and the "Saintess", Cornelia. 

It gave you no pleasure to put the knights in place, especially when they were loyal to your father, the regent. Some would declare their fealty to you, their blade under your command should you want it, but it was evident that they were misguided and led away by the false promises made by an irresponsible king who never was.

You missed Rufus, but it was clear to you that the Kingdom would fare better without him at the helm. And you would want nothing to do with ruling even in the future. 

When the evening came and training sessions came to a close, it was only you and your mercenary friend left in the castle training grounds to round up and conduct an inventory on the weapons used throughout the day.

"For a princess, you're surprisingly diligent," they remarked as they gathered the used swords in place. "Whenever I think of princesses, I'm always reminded of how… delicate they must be." 

"I'm a far cry from delicate, even when Dimitri and I were children, Commander. When Gustave taught me how to wield a sword, I fell in love with it at the first instance. And I suppose it's only fitting even for a girl like me born into the Kingdom, which values strength and our heroic bloodlines over everything else," you replied with a low chuckle as you carefully lined up the spears and lances in their racks. "My Crest made me stronger than the average person, too… So surely there was something I could do to support my cousin, too…" 

"You know, Dimitri told me something before the incident… when I was questioning this… gift I had. I thought you ought to hear it, too. You both have the same kind of strength. He believed his power was given to him so he could protect others. Your cousin has always believed in the innate goodness of a person more than anything. That explains why he chose to trust me despite everything. I know for a fact that he believes in you and greatly trusts you, too," they stated with a firm resolution, a spark of hope in their amethyst eyes. "I'm only able to stand here before you because of Dimitri, who believes my gift can be used for the greater good. Do you think the same way as I do? The only thing left for you to do is to prove that you are worthy of his trust. Of our trust."

"I… I'll prove it. I wield my blade in the service of my king. There is nothing more I could want."

Your conversation was cut short when you heard approaching footsteps followed by your cousin's wide shadow spilling on the ground. "There you are, mine cousin. Gustave said I'd find you here." 

"Well, we're just about done here anyway, so I'll leave you two to it," your mercenary friend said with a smile. Dimitri gently patted their shoulder as they passed by him. "I'm gonna help myself to some dinner now!"

"Oh, thanks for the help, Commander!" You managed to holler at them as they disappeared into the castle. 

"I was hoping we could share a meal ourselves, mine cousin," the young king started as he offered his elbow to you. "You know, we never really got around to talking about your time in Fraldarius lands."

"That week I spent there was one of the most unforgettable moments in my life," you chuckled as you linked your arm in his. "Felix… still smiled a lot back then."

"That is true. I suppose we will see less and less of that once is officially named the new Duke Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he led you through the castle halls, specifically through the Hall of Kings, where portraits of the members of the Royal Family hung. You paused between the portraits of your father and your uncle, the late king, the brothers in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "My counsel and I have come to a decision regarding your fate. There were some who wished to banish you from the Kingdom, but I would not have that. I could not agree to that… out of my great love for you and my respect to my uncle, who was nothing but a good father to you, I believe. You are my only family left in this world." 

"And you are mine," you solemnly nodded at him.

"I know the Itha Plains is your birthright, but we have decided against granting it to you. There are still some who fear the contention you pose and think you will not be so different from your father. There are still some who will not think twice to herald you as the rightful heir to the throne."

"Perish the thought," you said, your brows furrowed as you shook your head in dismissal of the notion. 

"I wish to keep you close, for I know that I can still trust you with my life, but in order for that to happen, you will have to renounce your royal title."

It was an unexpectedly lenient consequence, but not entirely surprising to you. You had no right to be begging for anything after everything that has happened, and to prove your worth and compliance to the Kingdom's cause, you agreed. "That is something I can do. Perhaps something I deserve, too."

"And marry Felix."

???

You looked up at Dimitri with eyes as wide as saucers. He did not just say that, did he? "Wh— Wait, what did you say?!"

"You will marry Felix and become his wife as your way of ensuring your loyalty to the Kingdom's cause."

"I— I would have renounced my title either way, Dimitri!" You attempted to disentangle yourself from him, only for him to hold you hostage with his grip. "A-And what did Felix have to say about this?! He must be seething in anger at having such an important thing be decided for him—"

Your bickering drew yet another set of footsteps this time, followed by the familiar, cynical voice of your childhood friend, who just happened to be your topic of discussion. 

"You ought to stop putting words in other people's mouths, Princess," Felix stated as he made his approach. "Are you done talking with her, boar?"

"Since he's here, you may as well ask him yourself," your cousin said with a smile as he placed your hand in the other young man's open palm. "I suppose I'll have dinner with our mercenary friend while you're at it."

"D-Dimitri! W—" You groaned to yourself as you watched the young king's figure walk away from you, as though he successfully led you into a harmless trap. 

"What's this I heard about you wanting to marry me ever since we were children?" 

Felix was never one to mince words, so you weren't at all surprised that he didn't evade the issue. 

It was embarrassing to hear him talk about it upfront, though.

"Th-That's—! Th-That was supposed to be a secret between me and Dimitri!" You squeaked at him. "I-I didn't expect him to actually find it usef—"

He squeezed your hand, reminding you of where you were and the decisions that had to be made. "And you'd rather it remain a secret than find out what I think about it?"

"I…"

"Hmph. Will marriage to me be such a chore for you?" He scoffed as he slowly released you, only for you to grasp his sleeve.

"N-No! I— It's true that I've always wanted to marry you, Felix! But I… I would never want for you to marry me out of obligation! Doesn't it sound like a punishment to you? I-I'm practically a traitor's daughter to everyone else, more or less… B-But this—! This… is such an important matter! This is marriage! I-If we agree to this, you'll be spending the rest of your life with me, of all people��! A-And—"

Oh, you were rambling at this point, your words strung together and incoherent as you attempted to explain your side to no avail. It was only when Felix held your hands in his once more that your mind was silenced from the thoughts that crowded it. 

"Princess," he said, his low and steady voice slicing through the noise of your thoughts. "I'm not marrying you out of obligation. This is not a punishment and you are not defined by your father's sins. Only fools refuse to accept the fact of your innocence. I agreed to that decision because I want to marry you."

"I… I—"

"And we're only having this difficult conversation because the boar beat me to it," he grumbled this time, his embarrassment evident by the blush that crept up his neck to the tips of his ears. "S-So what's it gonna be, princess?! Are you going to marry me or what?!" 

"Y-You want to m-marry me?! S-Since when?!"

"Wh— Why does it even matter?! Just say yes so we can be done with this!" 

"O-Of course I'll marry you, Felix! Th-This is like a dream come true! B-B—"

"I—"

"I-I've liked you f-from the start!" You sputtered at him, your hands burning in embarrassment as you squeezed him right back. "A-At first you were the boy with the pretty black hair, b-but when I started training with the sword and we started training together, I— I've been thinking of so many ways to grab your attention!"

You only realised now that you didn't have to try so hard.  

It is now 1182. Two years have passed since Dimitri's ascension as the King of Faerghus. As part of his reforms to the Kingdom, he established his private army spearheaded by none other than the not-so-mysterious mercenary from your academy days, who proved to be a reliable and trustworthy person. They grew to be a well-respected commander by both the nobles and the commoners who banded under the banner of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

As agreed upon by the king's counsel, Rodrigue stepped down from his position as Duke Fraldarius and passed his title to his named heir, Felix. After renouncing your royal title, the two of you were wed in a simple yet elegant celebration in Fraldarius lands, the snowscape becoming the perfect backdrop of your union. 

The promise was sealed with a pretty ring he inherited from his mother. For all his austerity, Felix was a good husband and he was exceptionally kind to you, even though it was mostly him growing and maturing into his role— both as the Duke Fraldarius and as your spouse. 

For your efforts in aiding Dimitri in his reforms, you were officially appointed a Kingdom General. The title couldn't come any sooner, with Adrestia's declaration of war against the Central Church. That same church is now knocking at the Kingdom's doorstep and to deny it assistance would be denying Dimitri's ascent to the throne. As a member of the Kingdom vanguard, you understood that the declaration wasn't just a mere threat, but a promise that the Empire would do whatever it could to accomplish what it set out to do.

But the deeper into Imperial territory you step into, the looser the lid on the can of worms becomes— that can pertaining to the cloud of mysteries left in the wake of the Tragedy of Duscur. The string of deceit will unravel by the King's hand, and many of your allies who lost someone dear to them in that incident will receive the closure they deserve. 

You don't speak much about it, but Rufus sometimes visits you in your dreams, sometimes in unpleasant ways that rock you awake. When Dimitri was held hostage in Fhirdiad after being captured by the witch Cornelia, you hardly had a wink of sleep because of the image of your father's headless corpse standing at the foot of your bed. 

The exhaustion you felt deep in your bones was forgotten in the rage that nearly consumed you in the battle to liberate Fhirdiad. You backed your husband and the commander as they made their way into the castle before eventually safeguarding Rodrigue, who was tired but thankful. In a moment of respite, he spoke of how their captors brought them to heel by means of manipulating the king's heart for his people. Dimitri, who was once consumed by the throes of vengeance for the dead, was so concerned about the living and breathing that he willingly surrendered Areadbhar in exchange for a fragile peace in the city. 

There is no peace, you told yourself as you angrily charged at the enemy soldiers that attempted to attack your father-in-law. No peace for me, either.

Cornelia had nothing but a haughty look of derision as you brought her to heel. "Well, if it isn't the Princess of Itha. Ah, but you're no longer that person, are you? To see you reduced to a wife of a mere lord. Your father must be turning in his grave."

"Silence, witch. You're fortunate Dimitri still requires answers from you. I would have struck you down without a second thought if I could," you stated, pressing the pointed end of your silver sword to her throat. "Don't speak of my father. Don't speak as though you knew him. You only corrupted him. And for all it's worth, you were the one who killed him."

That night, you dreamed of your father's decapitated corpse once again, only to find him holding your head in his hands this time.

Ahead of the decisive skirmish against the Western Coalition, Dimitri beseeched you to step away from the fighting for only this instance. He said he couldn't risk you being taken hostage by the western lords and be heralded as a symbol— be used as a weapon against him. Felix agreed with him, surprisingly, but only because your husband noticed your severe lack of sleep.

"Felix is right, mine cousin. We can't have you collapsing on the battlefield because you didn't get enough rest," Dimitri said as you spoke ahead of your war council. "But more importantly, I know the western lords aren't above using atrocious tactics to upend the battle, even more so if they find out that you will be fighting in it."

"For once, I agree with His Majesty," your husband remarked. "Royal title or no, it doesn't change the fact that you are a princess of Faerghus and the daughter of the dead Grand Duke who started this all." 

"But don't you see? All the more I should be in this battle. To teach those western lords the error of their ways. To show them once and for all that they will gain nothing from putting me on a pedestal."

Your declaration would have been perfect if you weren't nearly captured in the ensuing battle. It was a misstep you attributed to your exhaustion, your sound decision-making crippled by the fatigue that enveloped your head. 

Your head. In your dead father's hands. 

No. 

When word reached Felix that you were overwhelmed by the opposing forces, he raced through the battlefield in a fit of rage and fury and a flash of aquamarine, nearly razing the enemies to the ground in lightning and ashes. 

"Get your hands off my wife!"

You were awakened by the golden glow of the setting sun that peeked through the opening of your lodging. As you moved slowly, you were surprised to find yourself encased in an embrace as your husband slept soundly and calmly on your warmed bed. You were out of your battle regalia and in a comfortable sleeping tunic. There were clear signs of your injuries having been cleaned recently and you couldn't help but think of how much of a burden you were to your allies after having made that thoughtless declaration of strength, too. 

Felix mumbled in his sleep, his brows furrowed as he buried his face further into your chest. As you settled into his arms, you noticed the crimson ribbon holding his ponytail slightly coming loose, so you decided to untie it, allowing his silky hair to fall behind him. You caught a lock of his hair and gently toyed with it, curling it around your finger until it eventually came loose. 

"Are we… actually a love match?" You quietly mused to yourself. You didn't mind not getting an answer. You cherished these quiet, tender moments where he was nothing but a husband to you. Not Duke Fraldarius. Not a general of this army. Just Felix. Your Felix.

"You're not one for words, I know that much. You've saved me countless times. I don't even know what to say…" You started, your voice hushed to a whisper. He smelt of your favourite tea blend, too. "And for a man who values strength above all else, I still can't help but wonder what it was you liked about me."

"Mm…" You felt his low grumble reverberate in your chest. 

The colour of the sunset was lovely, casting a warm glow over your entangled figures, illuminating the space until it prompted Felix to wake. 

"How're you feeling?" Came his gentle inquiry. 

"I'm well, thanks…"

"That's good to know," he started, slowly releasing you and sitting up. "Because you're going to get an earful from me! This recklessness of yours really runs in the blood, huh? You and your beastly cousin are cut from the same tough cloth!"

Here comes his tirade, you thought to yourself with a small sigh. But it's only right, I suppose… 

"I'm sorry, Felix," you said apologetically, your hands gently reaching for his own. "I have no excuse for being caught unaware back then."

"What is going on with you, anyway? You haven't been eating. Your bladework has been sloppy," he sharply replied. "And you've been having trouble sleeping?"

You didn't want to conjure it in your head— the image that's been keeping you awake. 

"Hey," he called out to you as your mind wandered, your lashes lowered to your quivering hands. "Tell me what's going on."

"I…" You started, eventually prompted to continue by the way your husband squeezed your hands reassuringly. "I see him in my dreams, Felix. My father. I see his headless corpse holding my severed head in his hands. Maybe I am as guilty as he is."

"You're not."  

"Then why? Why does he visit my dreams in that form?!" You sobbed at him, warm tears filling the corners of your eyes. "I…"

"That's not him," he stated. "Those are just your regrets. You regret not being enough. Not being able to save him. So much that you wish you were dead as well."

Instead of lashing out at his realisation, Felix simply encased you in yet another warm embrace. "The truth hurts but it is the truth, regardless. There was no saving your old man after how far he'd gone. And you have to understand that his sins don't define you. How many times must you hear it from me and your cousin?"

You blinked away your tears and gently coiled your arms around your husband's neck. "Does he ever visit you in your dreams, too? Your big brother, I mean…"

"I can't count the times he did," he replied with a low hum. "Perhaps not as grotesque as your father's appearances, but it was still jarring all the same to me."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence before Felix posed another question to you. "Do you remember the jewelled dagger I gave you on your fifth birthday?" 

"I do. It is one of my most prized possessions."

"It was Glenn who suggested I give you a dagger. I thought it was strange at first because we hardly knew each other back then… But he told me, regardless of whether or not we knew each other, I should wish for you to carve open a path for yourself. And that's exactly what you did."

"Did I really?…"

"You carved open a path for yourself the moment you chose to follow Dimitri rather than fight him like everyone else around you expected you to do."

"Oh, yes. I think I did that," you said with a soft laugh. "I never wanted to be Queen, anyway. I wanted to be the Grand Duke Itha and your wife, though I knew I could only be one of those."

"Hmph. Well, I'm sorry if the Fraldarius Dukedom is all I can offer, Princess," Felix replied with a teasing scoff. He gently released you from his embrace and reached for a carefully wrapped parcel on the floor. "Speaking of which, I have something for you. My mother had it delivered to us."

"What could this be?" You wondered aloud as your fingers nimbly tore through the thick parchment. "Oh!"  

You couldn't take your eyes off the finely made mantle the moment you unwrapped it. 

Aquamarine, with cream white fur lining the collar and hem to protect your neck from the elements. You ran your gloved fingers over the Crest of Fraldarius that was embroidered on the cape with sturdy yet delicate-looking silver thread. 

"Beautiful…" You murmured in tears yet again. 

"I know the Itha Plains is your home, but it's likely that it will go to one of His Majesty's children in the future," Felix stated as he unfurled the cape to its full length before draping it over your shoulders and fastening the clasp on your chest. "This is to remind you that you still have a home. With me."

It was heavy— both the weight of the mantle and the duty tethered to its creation. You would never be the Grand Duke of Itha, but you were the Lady of House Fraldarius and wife of the Shield of Faerghus. 

But first and foremost, you were Felix's wife. A dream made manifest the moment you whispered it in your cousin's ear long ago.

You've faced the shadows of your past and supported each other through the most pitch black of moments. Your love, once a quiet promise made in the innocence of your youth, has blossomed into something profound and enduring. 

That night, you dreamed of your father in your youth, nary a trace of all his exhaustion, but only a calm smile on his face as he finally bade you farewell, your figure cloaked in Fraldarius aquamarine this time, your husband's gloved hand in yours as you marched ever onward, racing against the setting sun. 

୨୧ The images used here are from the lovely webtoon All Colors of Snow by Ah Ai Maria. 💛

[tim-shii]

an aunt, a grandpa and a minecraft kid

a/n: finals are done and school is almost finished i can finally krill myself! *break shackles* anyways this is pure word vomit over a poor attempt at found family w the stellaron hunters :hides: AND HELLO :DD

[ work hours ] 

“stop sulking. time is ticking.” kafka’s voice echoes throughout the empty corridor once she felt your presence. her heels clack along the metal floor of the ship, only to stop when a projection appeared in front of her. you groaned at her words. “easy for you to say. i got held up by two trailblazers after leaving wolfie to go here. seriously, what am i? a stellaron hunter or an overpaid teensitter?” kafka lets out an amused sigh at your antics. 

“23:47:15 system time. very punctual, kafka.” a glitchy, robotic voice spoke, in which you rolled your eyes out. “can’t say the same for you, y/n.”

“i don’t answer to a child.” 

“you–”

“enough.” kafka’s voice was stern with a hint of mirth. “y/n, why don’t you.. entertain our guests from the astral express for a little while silverwolf and i look for the stellaron.” 

“i’m only gonna agree because the guy in green is cute.” you turned away with a wave. grinning ear to ear, already anticipating the little dance with the infamous cloud-piercer.

[ babysitting hours ] 

“kill me now.”

“i can’t do that. if i kill you, that means i’ll be left alone with them.” blade shrugs off your complaint, focusing completely on his phone as he answers a message from kafka. you look at him with judgment in your eyes. internally berating him for looking like a very suspicious criminal wearing a black beanie with black tinted glasses that he probably stole from one of the blind mice. 

it's one of the days where you guys don't have any work to do. you planned to just stay in bed and sleep the whole day but a certain gamer brat decided to drag you out of the comforts of your bed and instead make you stand watch over her while she plays a rigged game in an old arcade. seems like your plans are ruined now. clearly.

"but we've been here for nine hours! who even spends nine hours on a claw machine?!" you bang your head in the arcade machine beside him.

"kafka's right. you do sulk a lot." blade hums. 

"shut up, old man."

[ the doc is in ]

"greetings, patients. your beloved doctor has arrived." the trio collectively sigh as you enter the infirmary. 

they just got back from a mission. from what you heard, the mission was a success. however, with what you're seeing now, you'd conclude that the mission was a.. partial success. silverwolf has gashes all over her legs and arms. kafka is laying down, completely fatigued. and blade is bleeding, cuts all over his arms, probably from his own sword. 

"are you guys.. feeling better?" you mused with a light grin. you stifled a laugh when you heard blade groan from the left side of the room. you walked towards silverwolf first and started to patch her up. 

soft sighs and the whirs of the air conditioner were the only thing audible in the room. it was clear that all of them were tired. so as the greatest doctor ever, it is your duty to make sure they'll be able to rest easily and without any pain. 

[ the rich aunt and her favorite child ]

"how does this look?"

"... it looks the same as the last one."

if you think spending nine hours in an arcade with silverwolf is bad, clearly past you hasn't been informed of almost a twelve hour shopping spree with kafka. in general, it doesn't sound bad. i mean, a shopping spree with a very fashionable stellaron hunter? sounds like a dream. yeah, that was what you thought too. until twelve hours has passed and you're still in the coats section. 

"you have bad eyes, we should get that checked." kafka tuts, frowning at you with the coat still on her hold. you gape at her accusation. "it's the same black one. all coats you try on are black. how am i supposed to know the difference?"

"through the material of the coat." she walks away to the cashier, silently urging you to push the cart of coats on her wake.

"i'm not really a fabric person!"

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of Doom 2024 Day 1 - Help me

This marks the beginning of June of Doom, though the doom will be kept to a minimum in here. These boys already suffer enough in canon, the least I can do is give them something to be soft about. The title is always the prompt for that day.

Suguru is not going to lie about the fact that watching Satoru–certified strongest sorcerer in centuries–struggle with opening a jar is hilarious to him.

His amusement must radiate off him, because after yet another failed attempt at twisting the lid off, Satoru turns towards him, eyes narrowed.

“You could just offer to do it, you know?” he bites out and now that makes Suguru outright laugh.

“You could just ask for help, you know,” he shoots right back, not moving a muscle to come to Satoru’s aid.

There are two reasons for this: one is the entertainment a struggling Satoru gives him but the other is a little bit more serious. Suguru knows that Satoru was never allowed to rely on others, was never allowed to ask for help or support and Suguru and Shoko are trying their best to hammer it into his head that things are different here, that Satoru is allowed to be simply human every once in a while and that it’s only natural that there are things he needs help with every now and again.

They are not having much success with that if Suguru is being honest, and Satoru’s current struggle with the jar is just proof of that.

Satoru glares at Suguru for a moment longer, before he turns his attention back to the jar in his hands and Suguru is glad that shooting laser beams with his eyes is not one of the many powers that come with the Six Eyes, because otherwise the jar would be obliterated by now.

“I could just smash it,” Satoru muses once he accepts that staring the jar into submission is not working and Suguru sighs.

“If you want to cut your throat open with glass shards and then have Shoko call you a stupid, idiotic moron, sure, be my guest,” he mildly gives back and his mouth curls into an amused smile again when Satoru visibly freezes and then shudders.

Suguru knows that he’s more afraid of Shoko than of the glass shards–which is stupid in itself–but it’s working out in his favour right now, because Satoru puts the jar down, a defeated sigh leaving his mouth.

“Fine, we’re eating out,” he decides, and expectantly looks over at Suguru.

“So you’d rather get dressed, leave the school and pay for a meal than simply ask me to open this jar up for you?” Suguru asks for clarification, because the lengths Satoru goes to to avoid asking for any kind of help are truly mind-boggling.

“Who says I’m paying?” Satoru asks him and now it’s Suguru’s turn to narrow his eyes at him.

“If you make me go with you, you are paying.”

“Who says I want you there?” Satoru asks in return and now this is going to be fun.

Suguru smirks.

“Okay, fine. Go then. I’ll just have dinner here, like planned. I wish you a good evening,” he pleasantly says, implying that he’s going to wrestle the jar that gives Satoru such trouble into submission and Satoru immediately sits down at the table.

“Oh, you’re going to cook? Mind if I stay?” 

“On second thought, I’m not hungry anyway,” Suguru immediately replies, getting up and waving over his shoulder. “Good luck with whatever you decide,” he calls back to Satoru and a quick glance over his shoulder reveals a gaping Satoru.

It’s honestly hilarious.

He’s almost out of the building by the time Satoru catches up to him.

“You would let me starve?” he whines out. “Me, your best friend, the light of your light? You’d be so cruel to me?”

Suguru knew it would happen, so he doesn’t so much as stumble when Satoru collides with his back, hanging off him like a limpet and he rolls his eyes, trusting that Satoru can feel the sentiment even though he can’t see it.

“There are two easy solutions to the problem,” Suguru explains to him, not stopping in the slightest. “One, you can just say you’re going to pay for my dinner.” He’s predictably met with silence. “Two, you can always ask me for help.”

That earns him a displeased huff but still, Satoru doesn’t speak up. It’s only when they arrive at Suguru’s door that Satoru speaks again.

“Fine, dinner it is,” he mutters, and even though Suguru suspected that this would be the outcome he still can’t help the slight twist of his mouth.

Surely one of these days Satoru will feel comfortable to ask him for help. Suguru simply has to believe that.

“Thank you for paying,” Suguru says in advance, reminding Satoru that this is what he agrees to and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, come on, I’m starving.”

“Things could have been so much easier,” Suguru reminds him but decides to drop the topic when Satoru’s face closes off.

Suguru can push and prod much more than anyone else would ever be allowed to, but even then Satoru has his limits and clearly, Suguru has reached that for today.

“Let’s go to your favourite place,” he says, a peace offering in lieu of a real apology—one that Satoru wouldn’t take anyway, Suguru knows that from experience—but instead of happy enthusiasm he’s met with a frown.

“You don’t like that place,” Satoru reminds him and Suguru freezes for a moment before he shrugs.

“It’s not my favourite, that’s true,” he admits. “But they do have some dishes I like, so it’s not that bad. We can do my favourite place next time,” he offers and now that finally gets Satoru to grin at him again.

“Deal,” he agrees and then happily skips ahead, Suguru following him at a more sedated pace.

One of these days, Suguru vows to himself again, but clearly it’s not going to be today, so he’s going to let it rest. For now, he’s simply going to enjoy an evening out with Satoru.

~*~*~

Ever since that fiasco with the jar, Suguru can’t stop thinking about it. It was bad before but now it’s occupying his every waking thought because he just doesn’t understand why Satoru wouldn’t just ask him.

Suguru wouldn’t even have made him ask verbally; it would have been enough for him if he offered the jar to him. That would have counted, in Suguru’s opinion, but even that Satoru couldn’t do.

Shoko and he have never outright asked Satoru why he’s never asking for help, certain in their assessment of his childhood and family trauma, but Suguru can’t help but to think that even that can’t fully explain Satoru’s stubbornness.

He acts as if he’s going to die if he so much as hints at needing help and Suguru simply doesn’t get it.

“Hey, Satoru,” he asks, carding his fingers through Satoru’s hair in anticipation of his mood when the question is out and just like predicted, Satoru melts under his touch.

“What?” Satoru grumbles, not even bothered enough to open his eyes or lift his head from where it’s pillowed on Suguru’s lap and it brings a small smile out on Suguru’s face.

He knows Satoru trusts him because of moments like these and he truly wouldn’t change that for anything.

And yet he’s still going to shatter the peace.

“Why are you so adamantly against asking for help?” he comes right out with it and despite the way Suguru still scratches at his scalp, Satoru tenses and makes to move away.

Suguru stops him with a hand to his shoulder and a reassuring hum but he knows he’s only semi-successful because Satoru glares up at him.

“Why are you so stuck on this?” Satoru grumbles out and Suguru sighs.

“Because you’d rather struggle with a single jar for ten minutes and then pay for two dinners than simply asking me for help. I could have opened that jar for you and I would have thought nothing of it. Why can’t you just ask?”

“Because I’m supposed to be the strongest!”

“So? I mean, you are, there’s no denying that. You are the strongest sorcerer. But that doesn’t mean that you also have to be the strongest human, you know.”

Suguru keeps his voice even and calm, hoping to defuse some of the anger he can see bubbling up in Satoru and he allows himself a small smile when it works and Satoru goes limp again.

“Yes, it does,” Satoru eventually says. “I can’t be weak. I’m not allowed to be weak.”

Suguru huhurthurts for him.

“Do you think me to be weak?” he asks even though he knows what the answer is going to be and he’s proven right when Satoru huffs in displeasure.

“Of course not, why the hell would I think that?”

“I asked you for help just yesterday, remember? When I asked you to carry some of the things for me we bought.”

“Yeah, but that’s—” Satoru tries to say but Suguru interrupts him.

“How is that different? Why is it different when it’s me?”

“Because it just is,” Satoru almost yells out. “You’re allowed to be—” his voice cracks and breaks before he goes on, “—human. Things are different for me.”

“How are things different for you? You’re just as human as I am,” Suguru carefully says, desperate to not let his voice shake, to not let Satoru know how much he hurts for him but he knows he’s not really successful because Satoru’s face twists.

“Am I?” Satoru asks, his voice uncharacteristically wavering. “I’m not so sure I am. My family at least doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Well, they are fucking wrong,” Suguru almost spits out and bends over, until he’s certain that all Satoru can see is him. “You are. And that’s perfectly fine.”

Satoru stays suspiciously quiet at that but Suguru isn’t deterred.

“You’re human, and you’re allowed to have emotions and to struggle with things and to ask for help. None of these things take away your strength. Nothing can change that you’re the strongest sorcerer. Those things are not related at all.”

Satoru presses his lips together when Suguru falls silent and Suguru knows that this is Satoru’s limit. He probably already pushed a little bit too far, but Satoru hasn’t run out on him yet—which happened before Suguru learned to read the signs—so it has to count for something.

At least Suguru hopes it does.

“Let’s not speak about it anymore today,” Suguru finally relents and sits back up, taking his soothing motion in Satoru’s hair up again. “I’m sorry.”

“Just—shut up,” Satoru mutters, but Suguru knows he doesn’t mean it when he turns so he can hide his face in Suguru’s stomach.

“Alright,” Suguru softly gives back and scratches at Satoru’s scalp with more intent to make up for his words.

They spend the rest of the evening in silence and Suguru knows that they are going to be okay.

~*~*~

Suguru wasn’t really paying attention when Yaga handed Satoru a letter after their lesson, but he does notice that something is off the moment Satoru freezes. Yaga and Shoko were long gone by the time Satoru opened it so it’s just Suguru and him in the classroom right now and that makes Satoru’s reaction even more alarming.

Suguru sees how his eyes fly over the page, sees how stiff his shoulders are, how his hands shake the tiniest bit and all Suguru wants to do is soothe him however he can, no matter what the letter says.

“Satoru,” he quietly says, cautious not to make Satoru flinch but Satoru flinches anyway.

He can’t seem to tear his eyes off the page in his trembling hands though, so Suguru carefully puts a hand to his wrist.

“I’m here,” he simply says, because he doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn’t know what the words say so he can’t tell Satoru that everything is going to be alright. Not without knowing what’s happening. “Satoru, breathe.”

Satoru sucks in a reflexive deep breath and then continues to breathe like he should do and that has to be a good sign.

“I’m not weak, right?” Satoru asks, his voice thin and reedy and Suguru’s fingers around his arm spasm.

“No, you’re not,” he’s quick to reassure him and watches Satoru’s head jerk.

“And I’m human?”

“You very much are.”

Satoru turns his gaze to him at hearing that and Suguru can’t remember a time when Satoru had looked this panicked.

Not even curses are able to put that look on his face.

“Help me,” he breathes out and Suguru still doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know what he’s even supposed to help with, but he knows that there is only one possible answer.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

At hearing that, Satoru shoves the letter into Suguru’s hand, who quickly scans it over. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, in his opinion; Satoru’s family is asking him to come back home for a weekend but if before Suguru could only guess at Satoru’s relationship with his family, this certainly cements it.

To say that Satoru has issues with them is probably the understatement of the year.

“You want me to come with you?” Suguru asks when it becomes clear that Satoru is not going to tell him what he actually needs help with, but it’s not as if Suguru needs him to say it out loud.

He knows Satoru well enough to read the desperate panic right off his face.

“Please,” Satoru whispers, still clearly so desperate and Suguru is quick to nod.

“I will, I absolutely will, Satoru.” He’s not sure how much he can push Satoru right now, how much he can handle, but he feels as if he has to say something else, too. “Thank you for asking,” he quietly adds on and then watches in horror how Satoru crumbles where he stands.

He’s quick to gather him in his arms, pressing Satoru’s shaking form to his chest and he presses one reassuring kiss after the other to the crown of his head.

“It’s okay if it’s you, right?” Satoru asks, his voice barely audible even in the silence of the room and Suguru understands that his is about more than about asking for help.

It’s about his family, it’s about letting Suguru know that he’s not as strong as everyone always claims he is and there is nothing else for Suguru to do but nod.

“It’s always okay with me,” he agrees because Satoru can be allowed to be weak and painfully human with trauma and issues in his presence.

Just like Suguru can allow himself to be the same with Satoru.

“Come with me. Don’t let me—I can’t go there alone,” Satoru says, his voice still shaking and Suguru doesn’t mention the hand that is so desperately clutching Suguru’s shirt.

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

It doesn’t even bear thinking about—Satoru asked him for help, so Suguru will do whatever he wants. Or needs, in this case.

“You wanna take the afternoon off? We can finally watch that movie you keep pestering me about,” Suguru offers when nothing else comes out of Satoru’s mouth and that finally gets him to relax a bit.

“You’re not going to ask? Why?” Satoru wants to know and Suguru shakes his head.

“No. I don’t care. You don’t want to go there alone, so you won’t. It doesn’t matter why. If you want to tell me, then I’m here, I’ll listen, you know that, but I’m not going to ask.”

Just like Satoru hadn’t asked when Suguru almost had a panic attack over a stupid painkiller, because the sight of pills is still a trigger for him, even though he’s been off his medication for months now.

“A movie sounds good,” Satoru says after a beat and Suguru allows himself a small smile.

“Let’s go then,” he decides, quickly stuffing the letter in his pocket, so Satoru doesn’t have to see it again.

It’s only once they are on Suguru’s bed, Satoru curled into his side and the movie running, that Satoru speaks again.

“Don’t leave me alone, okay,” he softly says and Suguru almost wants to laugh because there is no universe out there where he’s ever going to leave Satoru alone ever again.

“Never,” he promises and brushes his lips against Satoru’s forehead.

“Good,” Satoru breathes out, pressing his face under Suguru’s chin into his throat and Suguru doesn’t mention that he’s going to miss the movie like this, because the movie is not even the point in the first place.

The point is to let Satoru know that he’s ereherehere, that he’s always going to be here and he thinks he gets that across when Satoru melts against him.

They’ll face Satoru’s family together, just like they face curses together and in a week or two they will laugh about this, just like it should be.

And Satoru will know that he can ask anything of Suguru because Suguru will always be there for him.

[laura1633]

Way too many aus floating around my head but Max as a rather cold high fashion editorial model who is actually just socially shy and Charles as a pretty commercial model trying to get more artistic campaigns- it just works so well. There are non driver Charles fics as an actor or model but we deserve Max in those roles too. You're definitely right that his features were made for it!

I am totally with you anon, I can't recall reading a Lestappen fic with Max as the model (I haven't read all the Lestappen fics though so surely there are some, maybe?! 🤷‍♀️)

I can absolutely see Max as a high fashion editorial model, he's got such an amazing look! Much like in F1 he could start out young and carve out a really successful career. He's definitely shy so could come across as cold but is actually very sweet when you get to know him.

Charles being a pretty commercial model makes sense. Charles would also be very successful in his own field but perhaps he is a little jealous of Max booking high end jobs. At the same time he is intrigued by him and wants to replicate his success. They end up going against each other for some jobs or perhaps booking a shoot together?!

There is also the option to have Charles as a designer and Max as his muse. Or Charles the F1 driver and Max being an invited guest at one of the races.

Or Charles could even be a photographer who has just booked the biggest job of his career - a campaign shoot featuring Max. I'm picturing this raw sexy stripped back artistic shoot. Charles is trying so hard to be professional because this is his big break but as he looks down the lens at Max he can feel his heart racing. He's zooming into all these amazing features such as the lip freckle and snapping hundreds of photos and trying to stay calm

Basically, I am in 100% agreement. - we need model Max au's in all different forms!!

[heavenlycloud]

vintage chanel: jennie x fem! reader

warnings: suggestive, swearing

a/n: i was gonna post this the night of the event but school and time got away from me so here it is a few days late. there might be some typos.... sorry

the met gala wasn’t a new occurrence to you after your first invitation when you were freshly eighteen. back then, your attendance made headlines as you had become the youngest guest to attend that year. even more headlines followed when you were handpicked by karl lagerfeld as a muse for the house of chanel. over the years you became a known figure within the fashion industry while dominating the western music industry. the level of success you’d reached in a few short years was recognized by numerous awards, accolades, and several gold and platinum album titles to your name. even with the musical success, you never forgot that fashion was really your claim to fame many years ago. hence why you graciously accepted a met invitation every single year. 

to many, the met gala is a star studded night where you get gussied up in clothes from top designers in high fashion, meet other A-list celebrities, and do whatever the hell you do inside because nobody seems to know. in reality, it was waking up at six in the morning then getting ready all day, walking a red carpet, answering the same 5 questions from reporters who hopefully remembered your name, then sat through what felt like the world’s longest and most awkward dinner. the only highlight of the event was finding out that one of your friends was only two tables away from you, rather than the usual five or six. overall, the real fun started at the afterparties which you always ended up being roped into attending then drunkenly leaving hand in hand with some supermodel you met that night. 

you sat in a suite on the 15th floor of the iconic Mark Hotel as your stylists, makeup artists, and management and PR team bustled around to make sure you were ready for tonight. the theme was Karl Lagerfeld, the designer that picked you as his muse years ago. your outfit was a handpicked piece designed by the esteemed german courtier. originally worn by linda evanglista in the Chanel Ready to Wear Fall/Winter 1991-1992 in Paris Fashion week. the entire morning was doing small interviews for Vogue and other fashion media outlets that get most of their press from this event. there was a smile on your face as you told the camera before you, “i’m super excited for this evening because i don’t think many people know i’m attending the event. i’ve been trying my best to keep it on the down low, but i think people are going to figure it out before i get to the carpet.” there was a small laugh followed by your words that trailed off on the end, specifically because you knew of a certain someone that was hoping just this once you wouldn’t show. 

“unnie, did you see the headlines?” the thai idol asked with urgency in her tone that made her member’s heart race. the older woman hesitated to answer, but she went silent as she read the headline that appeared over the banner at the top of her screen:

UPDATE: Y/N TO MAKE APPEARANCE AT THE 2023 MET GALA

jennie stared at her phone and lisa cautiously prompted, “are you okay?” jennie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before saying, “why wouldn’t i be? it’s whatever. she gets invited every year, i don’t know why this would be any different.” she paused for a moment then abruptly commented, “i have to go. i’ll talk to you later.” the younger woman gave a weak smile, “okay bye, i’ll talk to you later.” in a sudden bout of frustration jennie tossed her phone across the room onto the bed then brought her hands to her forehead as she mumbled, “fuck…” there were light taps on her hands as her makeup artist silently chided her not to mess up her perfectly made up face. for the next hour she remained silent until she had to put on a smile for the cameras and fans that swarmed the porte-co·chère of the hotel down below. 

the car ride to the carpet was dead silent as jennie tried to soothe her nerves before enduring the next eight to ten hours on her own. through the deeply tinted glass jennie could see her security team waiting for her to step out of the car. one of the staff members assigned to her for the evening warmly assured her, “take as long as you need, miss kim.” she gave a curt nod and a hushed thank you before holding the door handle for a moment. one of the security guards pulled open the door and held a hand out to assist her out of the large black SUV. 

cameras flashed and fans shrieked and screamed as they desperately tried to earn jennie’s attention from their barricaded sections that flanked the entrance of the carpet. the idol waved and smiled for the cameras as she’d been taught to so many years ago, her smile turning genuine when she laid eyes on a familiar petite brunette. the young influencer passed jennie a mic and asked enthusiastically, “how are you?” with her eyes glued forward for a moment too long, jennie replied, “i’m everywhere. this is my first Met…” emma asked in slight surprise, “first Met?” the korean singer nodded and continued answering the quick questions on her current feelings. she laughed as the younger girl somewhat awkwardly yet genuinely shared the same thoughts of being nervous and anxious before such a large event. for just a moment jennie glanced to her right thinking she saw someone she knew. her blood ran cold when she realized she did know the person- you looking her way with the same narrowed gaze that dripped of venom and honey that had her spellbound from the first time. 

a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips after seeing the affect you still had on her after she supposedly stopped caring about you. for the fun of it, you shot her a wink before turning around and kissing the cheek of the interviewer that was speaking with you. jennie flinched ever so lightly then laughed awkwardly in a futile attempt to play it off. she quickly thanked emma for the interview then rushed off to the usher that was to guide her along the carpet. the remainder of the carpet went by in the blink of an eye. largely in part to the fact that she disassociated for the entire thing, only regaining awareness of her surroundings as she was ushered inside. 

jennie followed the usher to her table where her placecard was sitting daintily with her name handwritten in elegant calligraphy. she sat down gracefully beside another supermodel she’d yet to learn the name of then introduced herself politely. as more guests filed in, she couldn’t help but scan the room in search of you. the open seat beside her with a placecard that read a simple RESERVED made her stomach twist into knots. underneath the white tablecloth she bounced her leg anxiously, desperately hoping nobody around her noticed the soft clicking sound around the table. another usher made their way to her table and she took a breath of relief when she saw dua lipa approaching with a warm smile. however, the feeling was short lived when the albanian singer bent down and kissed her cheek with a slight pout. she explained quietly, “hi love, i wanted to come over and tell you myself that they’ve moved my seat this evening. but i’ll catch up with you later, alright?” jennie tried to answer as quickly and politely as possible to get in her question of who was taking dua’s place. 

the question was answered before it could even leave jennie’s lips when she heard you speak from over her shoulder, “thank you so much for understanding, babes. have a great evening and we’ll chat later!” you sat down beside jennie and greeted the other guests at your table which you were seemingly familiar with to some extent. the idol shifted beside you and you gave her what appeared to others as the warmest and welcoming smile, “jennie it’s been a while hasn’t it?” the woman saw through you as if you were made of glass, yet she refused to cause a scene at the Met Gala of all events. so, she plastered on a smile and hugged you back, “it has, how have you been?” she humored you in conversation and did her best to wiggle her way out of exclusively talking to you by roping the other table guests into the conversation. however, no matter how much she tried, you always managed to turn the topic exclusive to the two of you. jennie wondered how nobody else around her could see the lack of genuinity in your eyes, that you were intentionally toying with her like some game. but then again, why would anyone suspect you, a known sweetheart, of such a thing. 

you smiled to yourself as you did small things to get under jennie’s skin and give her the attention you craved. wether it be a hand trailing along her thigh or lightly hitting her foot with your own beneath the tablecloth. seeing her clenched teeth and smiles that faltered for just a split second were all the reward you needed to spur you on further. the moment that you all were dismissed to look around the museum exhibit, jennie was on her feet and eager to leave your side. you made no effort to follow her immediately, instead you found a handful of familiar faces and did your rounds to those you both did and didn’t care for…you did have a reputation to uphold anyway. an hour passed and you finally had eyes on jennie once more, she stood alone in front of a mannequin with yet another vintage Chanel piece. you watched her from afar, taking in the way she stared at the clothing with a genuine admiration and curiosity. the sight made your heart flutter as she reminded you of the first time you both met years ago. 

the feeling of warmth that bloomed in your heart ran cold when you saw some random man approach her. from his outfit alone you knew that he was someone’s plus one or an influencer that purchased his own ticket for the event. the way he stared at jennie with almost a sense of hunger and desperation made your skin crawl. you slowly made your way across the floor, wondering if she would actually need someone to intervene. her smiles were polite but you could see the way her eyes flitted from his with nearly every word she spoke as if she was searching for an escape. the stiff mannerisms of hers came to a halt when the guy attempted to place a hand around her waist, making her flinch out of surprise. without hesitation you rushed to her side in less than three strides. 

you slipped your arm behind her waist with ease, the familiar feeling bringing a genuine smile to your face. turning towards her you kissed her cheek, “hey beautiful i thought i lost you back there.” she looked up at you, a flash of fear still lingering in her gaze prompting you to pull her closer to your body. the guy in front of her tried to continue his conversation but you cut him off, “she’s with me. i expect that you’ll be returning to your table now, yes?” if looks could kill the young man would have been gone yesterday. he grew nervous with you, of all guests, standing over him, so much so that he couldn’t even utter an actual apology before literally running off. 

jennie continued to stand in your hold with her hand toying at the heavy gold belts wrapped around your waist. you remained silent as you lightly took her shaking hand into your free one, “jen?” she continued to stare at the same spot on the ground as you prompted once more, “jennie?” the idol snapped out of her trance and pulled away from you, “thank you for that…” she watched as your features softened in a way that made her heart beg that she cave into you and give you the type of attention she used to. your tone changed with the next words you spoke, this time they were genuine, the same way you used to speak to her, “yeah…of course, Nini.” her heart raced at the last word, so familiar and nearly made her crack but she internally put her fist down. she wasn’t about to start this, not now and especially not here. she backed away from you as if you were a burning flame that was moments from losing control. the singer straightened her posture then said coldly, “don’t call me that.” she turned on her heel then hurried off to go talk to another A-list supermodel that probably didn’t remember what group she was actually from. 

throughout the entire rest of the night jennie avoided you like the plague, no eye contact, no words exchanged, it was like you were invisible to her. the main event ended and the after parties were getting ready to begin. one of your managers found you and rushed you to meet your stylists where you were changed for the second look of the night. keeping with the theme, you wore a long sleeved white tweed top, black pants, and a large gold chanel belt. the look was worn by beverly peele in the chanel spring 1993 show. chunky gold bracelets adorned your wrist while the belt quite honestly felt like wearing a weighted hula hoop. nevertheless, you were guaranteed to be the talk of the night once again. 

TipToe by Jason Derulo blasted over the speakers in one of the many rooms within the multi-million dollar mansion owned by some uppity tycoon on the Upper East Side. the lights were off with the exception of burnt orange neon lights that barely lit a damn thing in the room. despite the windows being open, the entire house felt hot as hell with all the sweaty bodies of drunk and high supermodels, singers, and A-list actors. you watched who danced alongside you, trying to avoid meeting strangers with wandering hands and lustful gazes. as you skimmed the crowd around you, a tall blonde dragged a small black haired woman to dance with her. once again your interest peaked at seeing jennie in the perfect place for you to make another move. 

the bass of the music thrumed throughout your entire body as you danced your way over the now cluster of girls with jennie. you threw an arm around one of the women’s shoulders and shouted over the music, “Kenny!” the supermodel turned to face you and her face lit up as she pulled you into a hug, “Y/N!” jennie slowed her movements to the beat of the music as she watched you talking to the girl next to her. the nerves only lasted a minute because a second later she was pressing herself against Hailey Baldwin with her head resting on her shoulder and wrapping the blonde’s arm tighter around her torso. the unsuspecting model simply laughed and kissed jennie’s temple as she swayed to the beat jennie set. just as you began to look away, jennie opened one eye and smirked when she saw your dissatisfied expression  and pretended you were invisible all over again. 

you grew impatient and slowly slipped between Kendall and Hailey which they welcomed without question. jennie tried to keep Hailey against her but your arm slid between their bodies and Hailey switched positions with you to dance with Kendall. jennie began to make a move to leave but you pulled her back flush against your front. the gentle touch of your fingers ran down her arm making goosebumps form on her skin. you chuckled lowly and said into her ear, “come on now, dance with me.” the warmth of your body against hers was a feeling she thought she’d forgotten but now it was as if you’d never left. she turned to face you, gaining some control back before she attempted to make her leave, “i don’t want to dance with you.” her voice was saying one thing while her mind and body said another prompting you to ask, “are you sure because the way you’re holding my arm on your waist is telling me otherwise.” 

jennie glared at you through those cat-like, chocolate brown eyes and thick black lashes with a gaze that made your heart race. she watched as your eyes crawled over her body with such a hunger that she would have gagged if it was anyone else. you pulled her closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies and for just a moment she almost gave into your touch. once again she backed up and swallowed thickly, “i’m doing just fine with my friends here.” you stared at her unfazed then glanced over to Kendall and Hailey who were lost in their own offbeat two step to Alone by Kim Petras. god, jennie wished she could kiss wipe that stupidly perfect, coy smirk off of your face. a few people around you both noticed that you were no longer dancing and instead standing in a confrontational position before jennie. she looked at the hand she was still holding to her body and sighed as she turned back around, dancing against your front, “i’m just not trying to cause a scene.” you laughed lowly into her ear, “whatever you say, angel.” 

you held her slender waist to your body and the hand that rested by her leg into your own, lacing your fingers together with a smile. jennie slipped her hand out of yours and you tsked quietly, “and about your friends- you know goddamn well none of these girls give a fuck about you, they just care about the title you carry. they’re all up on you just to take a picture and use it to get an extra million likes and comments. you’re wasting your time staying around them because after tonight it’s gonna be like you two never met.” the idol hated to admit it but you were 100% right. when it came to western celebrities, they heard the name BLACKPINK in tandem with one of the members names, and they were immediately trying to befriend them for clout. it was evident in the way they called jisoo by the wrong name, never pronounced rosé with the proper accent, just plain forgot lisa’s name, and how at least 12 people tonight called jennie ‘jenna’ instead. despite that, she was completely used to it by now and expected ingenuity from the celebrities that she met overseas. 

the singer shot you a side glare and you frowned to mock her, “don’t give me that face, just admit the fact that you know i’m right.” jennie rolled her eyes and asked in annoyance,  “and what if you are? why should i care about any of that?” you answered simply, “because you and i both know you aren’t enjoying this right now.” jennie swallowed thickly as your breath ghosted the shell of her ear and she lied straight through her teeth, “i don’t know what you’re talking about, y/n. i’m having a good time.” this time your tone was slightly harsher but in a way that made her stomach erupt into butterflies, “jennie cut the shit, i know more than anyone what you look like when you’re enjoying yourself.” heat rushed to her cheeks at the implication of your words, memories filling her head only making her blush deeper. 

you felt the way her body began melting into your touch and she slowly started giving into what she both desperately wanted and knew she shouldn’t do. she shook the thought from her head and turned back to face you, once again fighting internally with herself to walk away. the way your eyes transfixed on her was no help but then you uttered the words, “come on mama, let me show you a good time…for old time’s sake.” jennie clenched her jaw and you leaned your forehead against hers, without even realizing it her arms ended up over your shoulders. the feeling of your fingers trailing up her mini black dress made her stumble, making you wrap an arm around her waist once more. her voice was weak when she tried to reply with confidence, “i-i don’t think-” all you had to do was raise one eyebrow and give that same damned smile to get her to cave, “just for tonight.” immediately you smiled the million dollar smile the world fell in love with as you led jennie through the crowd to find a place in the 32 rooms of the oversized mansion. she held onto your hand until you rounded a corner and pushed it open before pressing it closed with her back against. she hated how easily she gave into your wishes but she couldn’t help it with the way you felt her up with ease, making her get lost in all that you were, making her feel like you did all those years ago. 

[amethystgoldenwind]

ROTTMNT Fanfiction Library

All my fics are posted exclusively on Ao3! The site's guest-friendly so you don't need an account. Fair warning that I harbour TONS of favouritism towards Donnie, so most of my stories are about him. I'll organise them and include word counts and a short description!

Any and all warnings will be in the tags of the fics themselves. I haven't written anything too dark for Rise (yet), but everyone has varying levels of comfort and sensitivity. Put yourself first and read accordingly!

I personally use "Whump" to mean fics focused on physical injuries, and "Angst" to mean emotional/mental pain. All of my fics include comfort!

Feel free to hit up my asks for any questions! I love to yap about my fics.

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Goldenwind Riseverse (In chronological order)

The main series, if you will! These fics are primarily canon-compliant, but include my own interpretations, expansions, and headcanons both grounded and not. They may reference each other, they may not, but they've all happened.

Also, Autistic Donnie is my favourite thing to tackle and write about. Expect LOTS of fics about or featuring his autistic experience and struggles, inspired by my own at times.

My ideas have expanded the more I write, so the 'older' fics might be missing some things (like tails), but are still canon to the Goldenverse.

Champion of the Water (4K, Turtle Tots, barely Donnie-centric but Leo POV, fun & games, a holding-your-breath contest reveals an interesting softshell 'power' of Donnie's)

A Turtle's Best Friend (9K, S1 Repo Mantis, Donnie-centric, angst-to-fluff, Donnie begrudgingly gets a doggo)

A Living Stone Against the Pavement (4.4K, S1 Purple Jacket, Donnie&April-centric, whump, Donnie gets hurt & April has to save him)

Paper Burns in the Third Degree (10K, S1 original, Mikey-centric, whump, the Mad Dogs have to escape a burning library after an explosion)

The Egg Pan (2.7K, S1 ambiguous, Disaster Twins-centric, humour, autistic VS normie, the twins fight over a pan with a predetermined purpose)

Stadium of a Hundred Needles (4.4k, Series ambiguous, Donnie-centric, angst/whump, Donnie battles sensory overload at a Yokai sports game)

System Glitch (I think I am) (8.5K, S2 original, Donnie-centric, 11pm musings, Donnie questions the probability of his disability and goes to Draxum for answers)

Existance of the Metaphorical 'Wrong Side' (6K, S2 ambiguous, Donnie-centric, angst/whump, Donnie does stupid things after waking up sad/stressed and Repo Mantis chooses to be a decent person about it)

The Hilarity of the Difficult Son (4.9K, S2/Post S2 Original, Splinter&Donnie-centric, two scenes, Donnie 'comes out' as autistic and Splinter doesn't like it at first, but is later forced to accept it)

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A Butterfly with a Mechanical Wing AU

A miniature alternate universe where only one thing is different: Donnie is a nonspeaking autistic and communicates through alternate means. The purpose of this series is to explore a new type of normal and perhaps tackle some challenges a nonspeaker would face. Don't worry, he's treated mostly the same by his family, just with more accommodations. He also retains his wonderful personality.

Full disclaimer, I am a speaking autistic and do not wish to speak FOR anyone. This is mainly a creative/fun exercise to explore alternate means of communication (which fascinate me) and is not meant to reflect a true nonspeaking experience.

Series Link

A Cause to Celebrate (3.3K, Leo POV, fun & games, the boys throw April a party after a successful round of mid-terms)

More fics coming for the series by the end of the year, hopefully! I have plans for more stories in this AU, and look forward to sharing them someday!

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I hope you found something of interest! I hope to deliver many more fics as time goes on. My ADHD gives me endless ideas, but writing them is the true challenge.

Arrivederci, fellow nerds!

[justawastess]

[  alisha boe,  cisfemale,  she/her,  muse 15,  heiress / pinkpantheress  ] welcome  to  show  name,  JUNIA  NELL  LARSEN  —  or  should  i  say  the  magnet  ?  …  a  quick  google  search  tells  me  you’re  a  TWENTY  SIX  year  old  SINGER who’s worth 50M .  you've  called  avalon  home  for  TWO YEARS,  however  something  tells  me  there’s  more  to  you  than  a  flashy  resume  and  penthouse  23A  on  your  door  ?  it  seems  you’ve  managed  to  earn  a  reputation  around  the   city   for  being  CALCULATED,  yet,  upon  further  investigation  it  seems  you're  also  quite  WITTY.  but  hey,  thats  the  kind  of  mix  that  keeps  people  guessing.  i'm  sure  as  a  CANCER  you're  used  to  people  commenting  on  your  TELFAR BAG  /  SOFT VOICE DRIPS OFF OF THEIR TOUNGE LIKE HONEY. CLEVER AS THE DEVIL AND TWICE AS PRETTY.  HEAD THROWN BACK OUT THE WINDOW. but  still  we  can't  wait  to  watch  you  flourish  (  or  fail  )  these  next  few  weeks  …  [  zay,  28,  she/her,  est,  none  ]

Basic Information

full name: junia larson

age: twenty-six

dob: june 4

hometown : manhattan, new york

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: pansexual

face clain: alisha boe

label : the magnet

Her grandmother said on her 10th birthday. “Oh Nia, you don’t have a bit of sense, but you’re so damn sweet it makes up for the…lack of brains.” Needless to say, her grandmother was ushered out before the cake was served.

Junia was quite the oddball in a family of successful scholars and stars. The Larsons are known to be respected socialites in New York City.. Her mother, Angel, is a successful actress, and her father is the heir to a diamond mining company he inherited from her late grandfather. And there's Junia who was….talentless. But for some reason, her airy cadence, and amiable presence attracted people like a moth to a flame. She blamed it on being rich because no reason existed for anyone to like her. Junia wasn’t a stereotypical rich girl: she was charming and witty. 

The whole thing that jump-started her questionable career was a walk of shame. Twenty years old. After a night of partying hard, she spent half an hour hungover looking for a shirt and just said ‘fuck it,’ walking out of an expensive condo in only a black miniskirt, a bra, and a pair of YSl boots that weren’t hers. She walked all the way home without knowing the paparazzi was around. 

Junia believes she became famous out of pure luck. There was no specific box anyone could put her in: she wasn’t a model, barely a socialite, and known for being the youngest Larsen's child. But, along the way, more opportunities started to arise: being a guest host, appearing on shows, and modeling for high-end magazines. People loved the hot and fun party girl.

The more her fame grew, the more people wanted to know about Junia. The biggest topic about her was her dating life because of Junia’s previous promiscuous nature. Dating a partner was never a problem for her, but keeping them was a struggle. The media turned it around and painted her as opportunistic since she was dating other celebrities.

Personaility

Junia is witty, and charming, and loves to engage in witty banter with others. She is also a fun-loving, spontaneous person who loves to try new things and explore the world around her. She's a confident individual who is comfortable in her own skin and isn't afraid to express her opinion—even if it's controversial. She’s a bit careless, never think things through. She has a hard time taking responsibility for her actions and often makes decisions without thinking. And often acts impulsively.

HEADCANCON, POSSIBLE WCS, AND MORE.

Take Me To Your Best Friend’s House- name.

A childhood friend or someone she met early in the industry, Junia loves dearly and cherishes like gold. . They grew up supporting each other. You will always see Junia praise them for their accomplishments.

With Friends Like These, Who Needs Enemies- name. in the media, they’re known to be close together because of a viral project for a magazine..What fans don’t know is they hate each other. But we always are set on projects together! ( I was thinking like music or something to do with modeling or something tv related) But they continue to work with each other because their fake chemistry works and makes them

Wow it's brutal out here

They were in short-lived relationship that got ugly really fast. They had a big blowout on social media and vowed to never talk to each other again. Well until now.