#there are. no words for how devastating this has been

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[giannaln4]

For you? Anything.

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Even during the worst week of you life, and no matter how tired he is, Lando would do anything to make you feel better.  (2.6k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, language.

a/n: And we are back to our regular schedule! Kinktober is officially over (kinda, more context here) so it's time to post regular fics. So, I wrote this sometime last week before the shit show of yesterday's race so that's why there are no mentions of it, but I do have some planned about that so we'll see when I can work on them. Anyway, this is for me and all the girlies who have been feeling stressed about work, let me know what you think!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

What a week it has been for you. You had done nothing but work on a stupid project your boss put you in charge of. It was very short notice, and the due date was creeping up on you faster than you would’ve liked. 

The good thing is Lando had been away for weeks due to his job; not that you didn’t want to see him or that he was a distraction, nothing like that, but you always preferred to be with him instead of working, which isn’t something you would be able to do this time due to the amount of things you had to go over, but with the house all to yourself, you had the chance to get tons of work done.

It was finally the day of the presentation; you were supposed to pitch the finished project to management and honestly, you weren’t 100% confident in the job you had done. Usually, you were never too harsh on yourself, but with so little time to work on it, you knew there were some parts here and there that could’ve used a little more of your attention, but it was either use what you already have or show up with an unfinished project, so that would have to do. It wasn’t terrible; you were sure of that, but these people always found something to complain about.

You were there for only a few minutes before you were dismissed. What a fucking joke, you thought.

You didn’t even get half the presentation done, and the old dudes sitting across from you were already attacking you with questions, questions that didn’t even make sense or barely fit the theme of what you were trying to talk about. 

Your boss was the one to send you out, saying something like “You have another week; we hope you’ll be more prepared next time,” before standing up and leaving the cold conference room, followed by the rest of the men that were surrounding him.

Only minutes after going back to your office you saw him come in, giving you notes on the things he thought you should work on. As the polite girl that you are, you just nodded and wrote down whatever he was saying, apologising for not turning it up on time, but as soon as he left, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, ruining your make-up in the process. You still had half of your day ahead of you, so you calmed down, washed your face, and went back to work like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, however, that’s a different story. You went back home completely devastated. All those sleepless nights you spent with your nose buried in your laptop felt like a total waste. 

As you drove back home, you tried your best to hold the tears, but it was getting harder by the second, especially with each step you took down the hall that led to the door of your apartment, and when you made it there, you started crying as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You instantly got rid of your uncomfortable clothes and got into one of Lando’s shirts, curling up in your bed and letting all that consuming and irrational feeling of failure sink in. You knew you weren’t a failure; you were well aware of your worth, but you couldn’t help but feel like that after miserably failing the presentation you worked so hard on.

Suddenly, the front door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud sigh as you left the bed. You knew it was Lando coming back from his last race, and any other day you would’ve been happy to see him, running to the door to greet him with a hug like he deserved, but right now, you didn't want him to have to see you in that pathetic state.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, sighing again when you realised how obvious it was that you had been crying, so you’d just have to avoid eye contact.

“Hi baby,” Lando greeted you with his usual pretty smile as he entered your room.

"Hey,” you replied, immediately turning around and walking towards your desk, sitting facing away from Lando as you opened your laptop.

“Did you sleep okay last night? How did your presentation go?” He walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, kissing your temple.

“It was okay.” He stopped when he noticed your heavy mood. 

"You alright, love? You seem down." His brows were slightly furrowed as he tried to make eye contact.

​​"Yeah, fine. I think I’m just gonna work on it a little more; there were some things missing that I need to include," you replied, clearly lacking energy.

“Hey now, let’s not do that." Lando turned the chair over to make you face him. He looked down and noticed your glossy eyes, a worried feeling growing inside him. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

You just shook her head briefly, a lip-tight smile covering your face. “Everything’s fine.”

“Y/N…” The slip of your name past his lips made you want to cry again. Of course you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend, but you didn’t like the thought of him having to pick up the pieces anytime you messed up. As a tear rolled down your face, you realised that you didn't have the energy or even the desire to push him away “Oh baby, come here.”

Lando took your hand as he sat on the floor next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your face was now buried in his black hoodie, the tears wetting it instantly as he brushed a hand softly up and down your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you." He would understand if you didn’t want to talk about it but would still like to know what was happening. If there was anything he could do to help, he would gladly do it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I just-” A sob cut you off, “I- I couldn’t do it, even after everything I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Is this about your presentation?” He asked, his voice softer than ever, and you simply nodded. “It’s alright-”

“No, Lando, it’s not alright. I worked hard to get it together, to get it ready for days and nights and I still failed, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey, baby, look at me," he interrupted you, pulling back a bit and gently lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “You know that’s not true; you’re so smart, and I've always admired your beautiful mind. You gave it your best, like you said, you worked really hard, and even if you didn’t get the reaction you deserved, you know I’m right here.” You simply nodded at his words as the back of your hand wiped some of the tears. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?”

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed in me like I am right now." You looked down to your lap as more tears fell from your tired eyes.

“You should know that I could never be disappointed in you, Y/N. You are so intelligent and kind; I’ve never met anyone with such a beautiful soul, so I don't ever want you to feel down about yourself because you are perfect." You felt both of Lando’s large hands caress either side of your face, bringing it up so he could look into your eyes again as he swiped at the tears that had managed to escape from your eyes.

The slight smile that had formed on your tear-stained face told Lando that his words meant something to you, and they did. “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend for all those reasons." You giggled slightly. “And I’m sure that no one would disagree with me.”

“My boss would.”

“What does he know?” That made you laugh again, making Lando smile, a smile so sincere that told you he believed everything he just said.

"Thank you, baby, even though you’re being a little biased." You sniffled as you gently stroked the hand that was still on your cheek, keeping your eyes locked with his “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. You took a deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than you did five minutes ago as you looked at your laptop briefly. 

“I should probably get back to work, though; I have to basically remake the whole thing and meet with them again next week.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to bed? You look pretty tired. We can cuddle, I know we both need it.”

“I would love to,” your gaze fell on your bed momentarily; it looked so comfortable, and it was literally calling your name, “but I really need to get this done, and I have to do it right this time. I don’t wanna be embarrassed again in front of a bunch of old dudes.”

You stood up from his lap and sat back on your desk, focusing on the screen in front of you as you began to analyse what you should take out and what you needed to add. 

Lando just sighed. He knew there was no way he would get you to stop working if you already set your mind to it, but honestly, he thought he would get to spend every second with you once he got back home, so needless to say, he was a little disappointed that wasn’t the case.

He got it though; your job was important for you, and you would never settle for anything unless it was perfect. What made his blood boil was the fact that your boss had the nerve to make you feel like you weren't worth it. 

“Did you eat something already?” He asked you, getting up from the floor and wrapping his arms around you once again.

“Uh- I’m not really hungry.”

“Why don’t I cook something for us? What do you say?”

“It’s okay, baby, you should go to bed.” You tilted your head to look at him and give him a quick kiss. “I know you are tired, the triple header couldn’t have been easy.”

You started collecting your things so you could take over a different part of the apartment. He had been travelling for weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to keep him up just because you needed to get work done.

“Where are you going?”

“To your office, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not-”

“Lan, I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go to bed, don’t worry about me.” Taking a few steps closer to him, you gave him a loving hug, “I love you.”

You left the room, holding everything in your hands as Lando just stood in the same spot. There was no way he would go to bed without you, not when you were feeling so down and it was clear you just needed to take a break.

Taking a deep breath, he started to make a plan in his head. He took the quickest shower of his life and got into something comfy, praying there was food, or more specifically, ingredients to cook you something that he wouldn’t mess up and that you would enjoy.

Everything seemed to be on his side when he found everything he needed to make some Alfredo. Everything was pretty much premade, so he knew he wouldn’t ruin it. He happily got to work, setting up a nice dinner as he hummed one of the songs that had been stuck in his head for who knows how long. 

In the office, you were nearly breaking your head as you read the information you had over and over again. You kind of knew what it needed to be since your boss gave you a few specific notes, but then again, you weren’t feeling completely confident in your own ideas. 

You didn’t realise you had been locked away for over an hour, your eyes getting insanely tired as you typed away. A break was needed and well deserved, and you were aware of this, but somehow it didn’t feel like you were making any progress, even though you had been working non-stop and you had already readjusted about half of the project.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you abruptly closed your laptop, your face falling to your hands as your eyes felt wet yet again. That was it; there was no way you could keep going. You needed to grab a quick snack and head straight to bed. You did have an early morning the next day after all. 

Just as you were gathering all your strength to get up, you heard the door open, making you jump a bit.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” You laughed as your hand fell on your heart.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggled, walking towards you.

“What are you doing still awake? I thought you went to bed.” 

“I couldn’t sleep without you. Are you almost done here?” He looked at your closed laptop, celebrating internally as he assumed you were done working for the night. 

“Yeah, I guess. My brain stopped working, so I thought my future self can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Good. Come here.” He extended his hand out to you, which you happily took. “Please stop overworking yourself, you know this isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you let out a sigh as you accepted his embrace. “I’m seriously thinking about quitting. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that doesn’t make me feel this stressed all the time.”

His hand was caressing your back softly as he pulled away to look down at you. “You know you can, right? And I really think you should. I make enough to support the both of us and even a family in the future... Baby, you don’t have to keep working there if you don’t want to.”

His words made a smile appear on your face. Not because he was offering to basically support you for the rest of your life, but because he brought having a family with you. “You know I’d never let you do that-”

“But if you do want to quit and just take a break, you can do that too,” he interrupted you. You nodded, seriously considering it, but that was something you would have to think about and have a serious conversation in the future if you ever did decide to do it.

“We’ll see. Right now, I just need something to eat and some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Speaking about dinner, I made something for you.”

He took your hand and guided you to the dining room, a big smile on his face as he proudly showed off the beautiful set-up and the (hopefully) delicious dinner he managed to cook. He looked back at you expectantly, but his happiness quickly turned into a worried look when he noticed tears falling from your eyes again. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, a hand softly falling on your cheek as he leaned down. 

You were out of words; you truly didn’t know what to say. This is just what you needed, and the fact that he went out of his way to do it for you meant a lot more than he could ever imagine.

“I- Lando, this is-” you cut yourself off when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just jumped in his arms and gave him the tightest hug ever. “Thank you for everything. And I mean everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back as he buried his head on the crook of your neck. “For you, my love, I’d do anything.”

[zhounauts]

͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏─── ☆ JUST SAY YES ! ͏͏͏͏͏

SYN.͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏the many times he's been rejected by you, what happens when you just say yes to him? ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ XX ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏EN- HYUNG LINE X READER ͏͏͏ RAE'S NOTE(S) qotd how long has this been sitting in my drafts!! july we say in unison! ok but this is my first attempt at a hc, lmk how it is!

☆ LHS ( 희승 ) when heeseung sets his mind on something, he doesn't plan on giving up— even if it means getting rejected by you for the third time. he can feel his spirits fall with each rejection, but he doesn't let it stop him and instead tries to find reasons as to why you could be saying no. did you dislike him? definitely not, you wouldn't be here then. were you a masochist? hopefully (and probably) not. did you like someone else? he'd rather die than think about that. and so, heeseung finds himself sitting across from you again, his eyes watching your every move. he can't help but blurt out another date idea. his mind spasms when he hears you say the one word he never expected to hear, his heart beating and eyes lighting up in joy. he watches as you grow flustered from across from him, his grin growing with every second.

"what did you just say? yes? was that a yes? say it again!"

☆ PJS ( 제이 ) jay was so sure you had been reciprocating his feelings back. so when his attempt to ask you out brings forth a scathing no he feels as if he's been hit on the head six times and then slapped silly. it's so utterly mind boggling to him, that he finds himself shaking the rejection off and asking you out for a second time a month later. he hides his obvious bashfulness when you turn him down once again, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, your constant rejection only makes jay want to hear yes from you even more. looks like third time is the charm because when jay finds himself asking you out once again, you nod, a small smile on your face. jay laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair as he tries his best to smother the growing smile on his face.

"wow. . .okay. . .wow, was that a yes?"

☆ SJY ( 제이크 ) it takes jake a while to build up the courage to ask you out. so when you say no, it's safe to say he's utterly. . .devastated. jake isn't quite sure how to act around you anymore, choosing to take the rejection. but when sunoo and ni-ki find him moping around in his apartment, it takes only a couple of reality-inducing jabs from them to get him on his feet, and at your door with flowers once again. he shifts nervously on his feet, bouncing from left to right as he tries reciting what he's written down. you cut him off with a laugh, making his heart race, before you take the flowers from him and say yes. jake blinks, mind going blank, before he wraps his arms around you in joy and spins you around promises that this would be the best date ever flying from his mouth.

"you won't regret this at all! this'll be the best date you've ever had,"

☆ PSH (성훈 ) sunghoon isn't great at all this romance stuff. so when he meets you, and starts getting all those tingly, nervous, giddy feelings he decides to work up the courage to ask you out. when you reject him, silence hangs in the air for a painful minute before he nods and slinks away. this moment constantly replays in his head, making him shift in his sleep and grip his hair in embarrassment. so much so, he finds that he can't handle it any longer, calling you in the dead of night, and asking you out once again as soon as you pick up. there's silence from your side of the line, before your voice cuts through accepting his proposal. sunghoon plays it off as cool, but on the inside he's freaking out as he bids you goodbye. looks like he still won't be able to sleep.

"did she just say yes? what just happened?"

ZHOUNAUTS , 2024

[metamorphesque]

You claim that scholars haven’t found “solid proof,” yet historians from Raphael Lemkin, the creator of the term “genocide,” to contemporary scholars worldwide recognize the Armenian Genocide as one of the most extensively documented atrocities of the 20th century. To say there is “no proof” is to deny what has been repeatedly validated by courts, scholars, and historians across the world. This is not an issue of missing evidence but rather of willful ignorance on your part.

Trying to knock some sense into you is about as fruitful as trying to argue with a wall — it neither absorbs nor reflects anything. Your stubborn denial is a testament to how far people will go to protect a fabricated version of history, no matter how thoroughly it's been disproven.

You can dismiss photographs, eyewitness testimonies, official documents, and the consensus of scholars all you want, but none of it erases the truth. The Armenian Genocide is an undeniable part of the world history. You may think you can escape this truth by hiding behind empty rhetoric, but all you’re doing is aligning yourself with a legacy of inhumane ignorance and moral failure.

A part of me wishes the likes of you would experience the gravity of your words on your own skin — the weight of denial in the face of unimaginable suffering. I wouldn’t wish the horrors my ancestors endured on anyone, yet perhaps only such a devastating reality would break through the hardened wall of your denial.

History will remember the Armenian Genocide and those who acknowledge its truth, as well as those who chose instead to maintain a shameful legacy of denial.

Talaat Pasha's Official Orders Regarding the Armenian Massacres, March 1915-January 1916

March 25th, 1915

To Djemal Bey, Delegate at Adana:

The duty of everyone is to effect on the broadest lines possible the realization of the noble project of wiping out of existence the well-known elements [note: Armenians] who for centuries have been the barrier to the empire's progress in civilization.

We must, therefore, take upon ourselves the entire responsibility, pledging ourselves to this action no matter what happens, and always remembering how great is the sacrifice which the Government has made in entering the World War. We must work so that the means used may lead to the desired end.

In our dispatch dated February 18th, we announced that the Djemiet has decided to uproot and annihilate the different forces which for centuries have been a hindrance; for this purpose it is forced to resort to very bloody methods. Certainly the contemplation of these methods horrified us, but the Djemiet saw no other way of insuring the stability of its work.

Ali Riza [Note: the committee delegate at Aleppo] harshly criticised us and urged that we be merciful; such simplicity is nothing short of stupidity. We will find a place for all those who will not cooperate with us, a place that will wring their delicate heartstrings.

Again let me remind you of the question of property left. This is very important. Watch its distribution with vigilance; always examine the accounts and the use made of the proceeds.

THE DJEMIET

[source]

[wosoarsenalsstuff]

Kyra Cooney-Cross X Reader Part 2

The hospital room was quiet, the rhythmic beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the reality of your injury settling in. Scoring the winning goal in the Champions League final should have been the happiest moment of your life, but tearing your ACL had flipped everything upside down.

The door creaked open, and your heart skipped. You hadn’t expected visitors—certainly not this late. But when you looked up, there she was, Kyra Cooney-Cross, standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a small bouquet of flowers and looking more nervous than you’d ever seen her.

“Hey,” she said softly, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “I, uh, thought you could use some company.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of her, though you forced yourself to keep things casual. “What, no flowers from the rest of the team?”

Kyra laughed, her usual teasing glint in her eyes as she set the flowers down on the bedside table. “I’d like to think these are special. They’re, uh… just from me.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. She took a seat in the chair next to you, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, looking more serious than usual.

“You scared me, you know,” she murmured, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in her gaze catching you off guard. “Didn’t mean to,” you replied softly, managing a faint smile. “Guess I wanted to make it dramatic.”

Kyra chuckled, though her expression remained pensive. “You always did like the spotlight.” She reached for your hand, her fingers brushing yours lightly before she pulled back, hesitating. “How… how are you feeling?”

The truth was complicated. The ACL tear was devastating, the kind of injury that no athlete wanted to face, and knowing that you’d be out for months was a heavy weight on your shoulders. But then there was Kyra—seeing her there, with that mix of worry and something else in her eyes, somehow softened the edges of your pain.

“I’m… managing,” you said, glancing down at your hands, uncertain. “Just processing, I guess.”

Kyra nodded, her hand hovering near yours as if unsure whether to reach out again. After a moment, she took the plunge, slipping her fingers around yours, warm and reassuring. Her touch was careful, as though she was afraid you’d break.

“You’re going to come back from this, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re one of the toughest people I know.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at her words, though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. “Easy for you to say, Cooney-Cross,” you teased, trying to keep your tone light despite the lump in your throat. “You’re not the one who has to spend months in recovery.”

Kyra shook her head, her gaze fierce. “No, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way if you want me to.”

The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise, and you met her eyes, unable to hide the emotion building within you. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the unspoken tension between you thickening. You had always known there was something between you and Kyra, something that went beyond the camaraderie of teammates. But now, in the quiet of this hospital room, it felt impossible to ignore.

“Kyra…” you began, unsure of what to say, afraid of risking the friendship you held so dear.

But she shook her head, her grip on your hand tightening. “I mean it. I’m here—for everything. And I… I really care about you. More than you know.”

You felt your pulse quicken, her words sending a rush of warmth through you. It was the admission you had always wanted but had never dared to hope for. Taking a shaky breath, you gathered the courage to meet her gaze head-on.

“I care about you too, Kyra,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

A small, almost relieved smile spread across her face, and she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. It was tender, filled with unspoken promises, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the moment, ignoring the ache in your knee and the uncertainty of the future.

When she pulled back, her thumb brushed your cheek, and she gave you a smile that was both reassuring and a little mischievous. “Now you’ve got me, so you better get used to having a personal cheerleader—and maybe a bossy nurse.”

You laughed, the sound coming out shaky but genuine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The two of you sat together in the quiet, her hand still in yours, as if nothing else in the world mattered. The journey ahead would be difficult, but with Kyra by your side, it didn’t feel as daunting. For the first time since the injury, you allowed yourself to hope, knowing that whatever came next, she’d be there to face it with you.

Author :

Please look at my latest post

[sufferu]

Okay, so. This is actually a rather big spoiler for No Refunds, so imma need all of you to hush up about this one when it comes to the current main fic ;)

Anyway — here’s the first draft of a very essential upcoming scene, for all those who wish to see it.

No Refunds Ficlet: March Away From Omelas

____

The five Royal Selection Camps met inside City Hall. Crusch Karsten, flanked by Ferris Argyle and Wilhelm van Astrea. Felt, attended by Rachins, Gaston, Camberley, and the Sword Saint himself. Anastasia Hoshin, with her personal knight and the Captain and Vice Captains of the Iron Fang. Priscilla Barielle, who had elected to witness the ensuing spectacle alone. And of course — Lady Emilia herself, with Beatrice, Otto, Garfiel, and the Oni twins all standing by her side. With a singular exception, nobody else was allowed within the building: they were alone.

That singular exception stood in the middle of the room, of whom a decision now had to be made.

“…I didn’t do anything wrong,” Natsuki Subaru said uncertainly. Why were they all looking at him like that? He wanted to take a step back, but managed to resist the urge just barely. “Priestella is saved now, isn’t it? And— we’ve taken care of five Archbishops of Sin.”

He was objectively correct, about both of those things. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the Battle of Priestella had ended with zero casualties thanks to his contributions. There had been structural damage to the buildings of the city, sure, and there had been injuries here and there — bruises, gashes, broken bones — but nothing that had been lethal, and likely nothing that was going to be permanent. And of the five Sin Archbishops that had attempted to siege the city — one was dead, and the other four had been successfully captured, awaiting transport to the capital of Lugunica. Nothing like this had ever been accomplished in recorded history. In every sense of the word, Subaru had pulled off a miracle.

But in order to do it, he had—

“How many times?” Julius croaked. Subaru glanced his way, and froze at the look of devastation on his face. “Subaru — how many times was it?”

“I—” Subaru broke off. There was a long, long silence as everyone waited for him to answer. “…Does it matter?” he finally retorted. “I think the results speak for themselves, don’t they? Everyone’s safe, and everyone’s happy! Isn’t that the only thing that really matters, in the end?”

Otto made an indecipherable noise. Nobody looked at him.

“You didn’t answer us,” Wilhelm growled. The raw anger in his voice made Subaru stiffen. “How many times was it?”

When Subaru didn’t answer, everyone knew it was because he didn’t know.

“What a boorish question,” Priscilla scoffed. She was the only one there who looked relaxed, fanning her face gently as she peered at the lot of them from the side of the room. “Subaru saw that there was danger and rose to the challenge. If he bled for it in the meanwhile, what does it matter?”

“‘What does it matter?’” Felt repeated, her quiet voice already glittering with the warning sparks of her growing rage. “Big Bro just — killed himself, again and again, for OUR sakes, and — and ‘What does it matter?’”

“For Subaru, the ultimate sacrifice is a thing that he can make as many times as he wishes, as a means to an end,” Priscilla answered. “He can accomplish great things with his ability. He HAS accomplished great things, even. If I were his liege, I would be rewarding him for his accomplishments, not stifling his potential.”

“‘Stifling his potential’?” Felt repeated, disbelief coloring her voice red. “You’d call him — him DYING, again and again — you’d call it POTENTIAL?”

“Has he not allowed you to witness a miracle, peasant?” Priscilla returned. “Through his efforts, he has brought about a solution that would otherwise never have come to fruition. This is a thing to celebrate, is it not?”

“It is absolutely not!” Mimi cried out. “Mimi didn’t want this! Mimi didn’t want to survive because — because someone did THIS for her sake!”

Felt took a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “…Subaru,” she said, directing her words towards the focus of the conversation. “Do you really think that winning the fight today was worth — this?”

Subaru stared back at her like she had grown a second head. “Of COURSE it was,” he scoffed, as if it were the obvious answer. “I’m just one person, and — not even a particularly valuable one at that.” From the corner of the room, Otto stared at him with growing despair. He didn’t even notice. “Sure, it — it sucked a lot, but I did it, and now everyone’s fine! So of course it was worth it.”

Felt swallowed, trying her hardest not to scream. She folded her hands in front of her — a practiced motion, one Reinhard had instilled into her through hours and hours of those stupid etiquette lessons. “And…” she faltered. “And you would do it again, if you felt that it was necessary.”

Subaru visibly flinched at the suggestion, but quickly moved to answer her. “O-Of course I would!” he insisted, his eyes darting around. Nearby, Crusch and Reinhard both stared at something that nobody else could see. “I—I AM still a knight, you know. It’s a knight’s JOB to put others before themselves. And…” He swallowed. “I know I’m not good at it, but if I try hard enough — well. My…circumstances…I mean — I’m in the perfect position to put others before me, right?”

“Because you never have to stop doing it,” Julius realized. “Because even if you die — you don’t have to stop.”

Subaru didn’t realize the surge of devastated nausea that such a realization had inspired in the gut of the Finest of Knights. “Exactly!” he crowed. “That’s exactly right! You see?”

Someone made a horrible strangled sound. Nobody knew who it was, and everyone was too focused on the matter at hand to find out, anyway.

“And if we’re not okay with it?” Felt pressed, trying to ignore the hole that was widening in her gut. “If we don’t want any part of — of an exchange like that?”

“…That’s ridiculous,” Subaru scoffed. “Why would anyone not — want to live? That’s stupid.”

“Why indeed,” Ricardo muttered.

“Maybe it’s not that — that someone doesn’t want to live,” Crusch said, her voice tense. “Maybe it’s that someone doesn’t want their life to be saved through…” She shook her head. “Maybe they consider — other things, to be more important.”

“Like what?” Subaru retorted.

“Honor, maybe,” Crusch said. “Ethics. Dignity. Integrity. Any of the things of which a loss would turn a person into a dog. …You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Valuing the alleviation of momentary suffering over a perfect ending is the way of dogs,” Priscilla replied, her eyes glinting. “If momentary suffering is necessary for a perfect ending, then to undergo it for the sake of fulfilling his duty — that is the sign of a wonderful knight.”

“There are limits,” Felt forced out through gritted teeth. “To what level of ‘momentary suffering’ is acceptable. Not that I’d expect YOU to understand that.”

“Lady Felt—”

“Don’t!” Felt snapped. Reinhard stopped. “Just— don’t. Not now.”

“I’d say it’s a perfectly acceptable level of suffering!” Subaru retorted, raising his voice. “I’m the only one who has to go through it, so I’m the one who gets to decide what’s acceptable, right? That’s how it works!”

“No the FUCK it’s not!” Rachins bellowed, taking a step forward. Reinhard quickly grabbed his wrist, preventing him from marching over to punch Subaru in the face. Rachins didn’t even glance back at him, fixated solely on the object of his rage. “You don’t get it make a choice like THAT when you— when you’re planning something THAT HORRIBLE!” he spat. “Who the fuck would be alright with this?! Just one ultimate sacrifice is hard enough to stomach, but — you can’t even tell us how many times it was! How am I supposed to go forward when I know you— YOU—”

“You might have DIED if I didn’t do anything!” Subaru protested. “If it was you or me— even if I had to choose all of you hundreds of times over, then—”

“How was it your place to make that decision for us?!” Anastasia burst out, uncharacteristically emotional. She hadn’t looked this way even back at the inn. “I didn’t want this!” she cried. “I didn’t consent to this! I never wanted to be complicit in something this awful, and here YOU went and made the choice to — to repeatedly sacrifice yourself for all of us regardless! I didn’t WANT you to do this for me!”

“We weren’t able to do anything,” Ferris managed, white as a sheet. He was gripping his head. “We weren’t able to stop nyew at all. And nyew didn’t stop nyerself, either: the first thing nyew decided to do when the Witch Cult attacked was…” Ferris fixed his gaze on Subaru, glassy with panic and devastation. “So long as nyer a knight, and protecting the country is nyer job— we won’t be able to stop nyew at— at all—”

“Oh like that’s any different than what Reinhard is doing,” Subaru retorted. “What, so him being unstoppable in his role as a Sword Saint is fine, but me using my own ability to act as a knight is crossing a line? How is THAT fair?”

Reinhard flinched violently, taking a step backwards.

“How DARE you make a comparison like that?!” Felt spat, finally snapping and raising her voice to a roar. “HOW DARE YOU?! You wanna know what the difference is, Subaru?! Reinhard being the Sword Saint doesn’t mean we’re all dooming him to fucking KILL HIMSELF for our sakes!”

“I can’t believe you would even SUGGEST such a thing,” Julius snarled, uncharacteristically vicious. “The role of the Sword Saint is a heavy one, yes, but it isn’t in any way the same thing as someone sentencing himself to execution after execution for the rest of —” Could Subaru die a natural death? He didn’t even want to THINK about the concept of an eternity trapped in a fate like this. “— of his natural life! You absolute— how could you even consider—?!”

Reinhard was not allowed to wish for his role as the Sword Saint to be taken away from him. Wishing for for such a thing was as good as poisoning his mind against the kingdom itself. In any case, nobody could ever strip him of his title even if they wanted to: nobody was more suited to the role of the Sword of the Kingdom than Reinhard van Astrea.

But now, he realized with a bolt of absolute clarity— now he was on the outside, looking in. Subaru wasn’t wrong about his curse positioning him in a manner that made him uniquely suited for the role of a knight. But if they allowed him to take that position up once again—

Reinhard thought of himself, and how he was never going to escape his title. He thought of Subaru, who was inches away from thrusting himself into the same position. He thought of an old story about his grandmother and grandfather, and how — just once — a Sword Saint had been set free.

“Subaru—” He tried to say, stepping forward, but Wilhelm held out his arm before anyone else could see what he was doing. Reinhard glanced his way, and saw ice blue eyes glimmering with the conviction of tempered steel.

—Reinhard understood. He stepped back to where he had been a second before.

…He likely wouldn’t have been allowed to be the one to do so anyway. Reinhard van Astrea could not act against the good of the kingdom, no matter who got hurt in the process.

Julius was still speaking. “How do you not understand?!” he shouted, his eyes blazing. “You seem to be thinking of this as— as some sort of— you just don’t get it, do you?! Do you have any idea how—” Horrified. Disgusted. Devastated. Mortified. “—how ANGRY we are with you right now?”

“I mean, I’d probably do it anyway!” Subaru pointed out, folding his arms stubbornly. “Whether I have the title or not, I’m always gonna want to help the people around me, right? You can’t stop me from doing THAT.”

The temperature of the room dropped significantly. Subaru’s eyes widened, his arms springing up to wrap around his chest at the sudden chill. A couple of pairs of eyes flickered to Emilia, who sat motionless in her seat.

“…For nyer own sake,” Ferris hissed, one of those in the room that was utterly unaffected by this cold air. He looked very much like he wanted to murder Subaru on the spot. “I am going to assume that was nyer misguided attempt at cracking a JOKE. But on the off-chance that nyew were being serious, I can assure nyew: we have ways of keeping people alive against their will if nyeed be.” He grinned, his face so sour it looked like it might curdle milk. “Nyew’ve seen me deal with suicidal Witch Cult prisonyers, Subaru-kyun. Do nyew think I’m above treating nyew the way I treated them?”

Subaru took a step back.

“Ignoring the absolutely disgusting moral implications of what you just suggested you planned on doing to yourself for the rest of your life,” Julius said coldly, eyes fixed on Subaru’s face. “You do realize that you just threatened ALL OF US, by saying that you would use time travel to bend reality to your heart’s content regardless of how we feel about it — do you not?” Subaru flinched. “I assumed you were better than that.” Julius rolled his shoulder. “But Ferris is right: if you are NOT better than that, then we can find a way to make sure we don’t have to worry about you deciding to reverse time behind everyone’s backs.”

“The lot of you are being ridiculous,” Priscilla scoffed. “Your wonderful knight saved an entire city almost single-handedly, and you wish to remove him from his post? Sacrifice is a part of life. If you can’t stomach the sacrifice necessary to feed the fire of life, then you are unfit to stand in the light of mine gaze.”

“There’s a fucking limit to the kind of sacrifices a reasonable person should accept!” Felt shot back. “Not like you’d understand a thing about being reasonable, you— you MONSTER. How can you talk about someone ripping himself apart so flippantly?!”

“If ripping oneself apart is what a person wishes to do, then I shall not stand in their way.” She smiled. “Just as there is beauty in war, there is beauty in sacrifice — or in this case, the dance of eternal sacrifice, in service of the greater good.” The Sun Princess frowned down at Felt, who was staring at her with a look of horrified disbelief. “It is not Subaru’s fault if a peasant like you cannot handle how he chooses to live and die,” she said coldly. “If he has made his choice, then he has made it so.”

“That’s vile…” Felt choked out. “Even for you, that is VILE.”

“Personal autonomy has limits,” Crusch said coldly. “If a man’s personal autonomy involves harming others, then he must be stopped. Likewise, if it involves him ripping himself apart, then we have a moral duty to stand in his way. — Especially if he has the gall to declare that it is for OUR sakes.”

“As a knight of Lugunica, I understand the nobility of sacrifice,” Julius said. He did not flinch as Priscilla turned to watch him, nor did he look her in the eye. “But as a knight, I understand the weight of it, as well. Giving up one’s life for a cause is one of the heaviest sacrifices one can make — and it is exactly because of that, that I cannot stand for someone who plans to make that sacrifice so many times in repetition.” He turned to face Subaru, alone in the center of the room, and took a deep breath. “In saving Priestella from the Witch Cult, Natsuki Subaru has fulfilled his duty as a knight once and for all,” Julius declared. “He has made the ultimate sacrifice, and he has done so — many, many times over. Allowing him to continue to do so for the sake of this country would damage the worth of the entire nation, and I refuse to stand for it. That’s all I have to say.”

“I stand by my knight,” Anastasia announced, stepping forward. “We are not animals, and I refuse to live as an animal by depending on someone to harm themselves for me in perpetuity — and I refuse to allow my country to do such a thing, either. And I am no longer willing to wait two years for a decision to be made: Natsuki Subaru will be removed from his role today, or the Anastasia Camp will consider him and all of his allies its enemy.”

“The Iron Fang stands with its employer,” Ricardo added, his voice like steel. “But even without its relationship with the Anastasia Camp, I would never stand for something this disgusting, nor would any organization that I lead. And—” He shook his head, looking very much like he wanted to strangle someone. “And I’d HOPE that if — those who I care about — were thrown into a situation — like THIS — that the people they meet would have the basic decency to refuse the same.”

“Mimi hates this,” the eldest of the Pearlbaton triplets forced out, uncharacteristically enraged. She was scratching at the top of her head, yanking at her orange hair. “Mimi hates everything about this. How dare— how DARE you—”

“We want nothing to do with an arrangement like this,” Hetaro confirmed. “I don’t want to be saved by someone doing — this. It’s sick. I’d rather just die.”

“I don’t want to die,” Tivey muttered. “But if I were to live a life dependent on something like — THIS, I’d be no better than vermin. And I don’t want anyone forcing me into that role, either. We stand with our Lady.”

“The three of us might be vermin,” Rachins growled. “But even WE are above depending on an eternal living corpse for our lives and livelihoods. You can fuck right off with that, Subaru.”

“I wouldn’t call us vermin—” Camberley objected.

“All the more reason, then,” Gaston said firmly. “None of us are gonna accept something this — gross. Ever.”

“I agree with those idiots,” Felt snarled, stepping forward defiantly. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about ‘the greater good’: this is vile, and I would be utter scum if I rolled over and let things continue like this. Thank you for your service, Big Bro: now fuck ALL THE WAY off with this Unsung Hero bullshit.”

“My role as the Sword Saint is a duty granted to me by Od Laguna,” Reinhard managed, both outraged and devastated beyond words by the comparison. “It is a burden that I would not wish upon anyone, but the sole grace of my role is that I have been granted it specifically because my capabilities allow me to fulfill it without — undue sacrifice. For you to try and take something like it upon yourself through the use of a curse this vile…” He shook his head. “I will stand with whatever Lady Felt decides,” the Sword Saint said. “As she is against — everything about this — so am I.”

“Disgusting,” Ferris hissed, bristling. There were tears in his eyes. He shook his head, muttering the same word over and over again. “Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting — Nyatsuki Subaru, I hate nyew so, so much—!”

“To keep Natsuki Subaru as a knight after this would be considered the height of indecency,” Crusch declared. “That is where I stand, as do my Camp and my Estate. Lady Emilia, I must insist that you remove him from his position NOW, or I will render our alliance null and void. That is my ultimatum.”

“This— This really feels like an overreaction!” Subaru stammered, backing away from the sea of anger and devastation. “Didn’t everything work out alright, in the end? Wasn’t it worth it? One life in exchange for all of Priestella—”

“It wasn’t just one life, Subaru,” Ricardo spat. “It was one person, over and over again, who decided all on his own that we were the kinds of ANIMALS that would be absolutely fine resting our lives on — on a fucking monstrosity like that!“

“We didn’t even get a CHOICE in the matter,” Ferris cried. “Nyone of us did. “Nyew just went ahead and decided for nyerself that we’d all prefer this — this utter BULLSHIT.“

“Do you not get what an embarrassment this is?” Julius snapped. “For someone to have stepped in and decided on their own that they’re going to take all the suffering of — of the Royal Selection Camps, of the White Scales of Priestella, of EVERYONE who might have otherwise decided to fight back on their own accord — for them to have stolen that choice away and forced everyone else to accept not just one singular sacrifice, but a string of sacrifices so long that you haven’t even been able to tell us how many deaths make it up! It’s a humiliation of the highest order, because you just forced ALL OF US to be complacent in one of the most monstrous, inhuman scenarios I can imagine.“

“Fuck nyew,” Ferris breathed, looking like he was on the verge of passing out. “Fuck nyew, Subaru. Fuck nyew, fuck nyew, fuck nyew—”

“I really don’t think—!”

“How would you have felt,” Felt interrupted. “If Big Sis had done all of this on your behalf?” Subaru froze. She grinned at him, all teeth and no joy behind her smile. “You’d fucking hate it, right?” she asked cheerfully. “You’d scream, and you’d probably cry. You might even throw up, you’d feel so awful. And if she turned to you and said ‘But I gave you a miracle, aren’t you proud of me?’ I’ll bet you’d want to scream at her for it, too.” She leaned forward. “How DARE you do that to us.” Felt hissed. “How fucking dare you.”

“And to think!” Anastasia laughed. It was a venomous, bitter sound that made Subaru want to recoil. “To think, I actually was starting to believe the others’ insistence that you could be trusted to man your post responsibly!” She stared at him, eyes hard. “I was right about this whole situation from the start. Keeping you as a knight was a ridiculous notion, because — THIS — was always going to be the outcome, one way or another.”

Subaru was speechless. Slowly, with jerky movements, he twisted around to the one camp that had yet to make its final assertion.

“G-Guys…?” he managed.

“Cap—” Garfiel hesitated, and then shook his head. Subaru visibly wilted. “Natsuki Subaru can’t be a knight anymore,” he declared. “This is horrible. I didn’t want this. I never wanted anything like this. If I let him do this for — for MY sake, how could I ever look myself in the mirror again? …And I don’t think he’s ever gonna stop unless we force him away from the edge.”

“This is the absolute worst thing you could have done to me, Subaru,” Ram snapped. “I don’t know how you don’t understand that. I don’t WANT to persist via your acts of self-harm: I’m perfectly happy to live to the best of my ability and accept my death when my time has come to an end. A life of dignity is one that I desire most of all. —And here you are, planning to force me to rely on your trail of self-destruction for the rest of my natural life? That’s a vulgarity beyond words.”

“I really thought you had learned,” Otto muttered. His face was buried in his hands. “I really, really thought you had learned, Subaru.”

Despair slowly dawned across the face of the self-proclaimed knight.

“The old me might have allowed for this,” Rem admitted. Her voice was quiet and broken. “I am not that woman anymore. I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Betty doesn’t want her contractor to become a living corpse, I suppose,” Beatrice said quietly. “Betty wants you to be happy, but that also means that she doesn’t want you to destroy yourself. You can hate me for this if you want, Subaru. But I can’t let you — I can’t let you do this.”

Subaru stared at all of them, his upper lip wobbling, and then his eyes flitted to the last person in the room, the one who had not said a single thing since they had entered the building.

Emilia could not bring herself to voice the words, but her silence spoke a thousand in its stead. Subaru made a horrible croaking noise, wide-eyed and devastated.

Wilhelm had to force himself to speak, but when he did, his voice came out loud and clear and true.

“Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru could no longer be a knight. For him to continue being a knight would be for him to continue to sacrifice himself for the sakes of those around him, over and over again, without regard for whether they wanted him to do so or not. For him to remain a knight would be for the kingdom to approve this cycle of endless self-destruction, so that it could profit off of his pain until the day it finally sucked him dry. —And this could no longer be a decision that waited a year, a month, a day, but rather a move that had to be made as quickly and decisively as possible.

Lady Emilia had already realized what Wilhelm was about to do. Her eyes were glassy and dull, but she bowed her head in assent when he briefly caught her gaze. Do what you must.

For his own good, Subaru could no longer be a knight. However, Emilia firing him after just a year of service would leave a black mark on his record that could last until the end of his life. And with him having saved the Watergate City nearly single-handedly, for him to willingly abandon his duty now would paint him as a fickle, untrustworthy coward for the rest of his life. Titles brought with them expectations and responsibilities, and great deeds even more so. Subaru had somehow entangled him in a web of both that threatened to trap him as the nation’s self-replenishing sacrifice for — in a worst-case scenario, perhaps for the rest of eternity.

“W-Wilhelm?” Subaru whimpered, his voice high-pitched and uncertain.

But there was a way to retire him that would not impact his reputation, or hamper him from pursuing any other future career path he may choose, or even leave him with the majority of the blame. It was the same way that, many years ago, a young man on a mission had set free the woman who would become his wife.

Subaru would hate him for this until the old man’s dying day, and perhaps even beyond that. But Wilhelm loved him, and that meant he valued the quality of the boy’s life more than he ever could his personal reputation in his eyes.

Priscilla realized what the Sword Demon was about to do moments before he opened his mouth again. She sighed, snapping her ruby red fan shut. The sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap.

“Natsuki Subaru,” Wilhelm Van Astrea declared. “Due to finding you unworthy to serve our nation as a knight of the Kingdom, I challenge you to a duel.”

*

Wilhelm had challenged Subaru to a duel over his position as a knight of the Kingdom. Subaru’s liege, Lady Emilia, had consented to such terms. If Subaru were to win, he would be allowed to remain where he was. If Wilhelm were to win, then Subaru would be forced to retire from his post — and in the eyes of the public, all the blame for his removal would rest squarely on Wilhelm’s shoulders.

Subaru, Wilhelm, and everyone witnessing the event knew what the outcome was going to be.

“What are you doing?!” an old lady cried from the stands. “What are you DOING?! He saved us — he saved all of our lives! Stop, STOP—!!”

“Natsuki Subaru-dono is a hero!” shouted a young man, hands clenching the rails. “Why are you doing this?! What did he do wrong?! He didn’t do ANYTHING, just LET HIM—!!”

“Wilhelm—” Subaru tried to plead, one last time.

Wilhelm met his gaze with one fierce enough to burn. “This is for your own good.”

Subaru swallowed, and raised his whip.

It only took three hits. The first smacked the handle of Subaru’s weapon with the flat of the blade, knocking it out of his hands and into the air, where it spiraled in an arc. The second whacked Subaru on the top of his head, stunning him hard enough to make him lose his balance. The third took advantage of this wrong-footedness by slamming into his chest, knocking him down on his back. Then the weight of the man’s knee settled against his chest, pinning him to the ground, with the edge of the blade grazing against his throat. And that was that.

“The winner,” Ferris announced, his voice muffled in Subaru’s ears. “Is Wilhelm van Astrea.”

It had not even lasted a full ten seconds. Those who watched would later describe it as Wilhelm scruffing him, much like one would a misbehaving puppy. Even the way he had pinned him to the ground had been careful, less like an actual fight and more like a sparring session between parent and child.

It was a duel far gentler and kinder than his previous with Julius. But the results were far graver in his eyes, for he had been successfully stripped of his title as a knight and reduced to simply being Natsuki Subaru.

[ellitx]

Chapter 20: Wind's Soliloquy

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

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art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 6.3k

           The rain had been pouring ever since. It never seemed to stop but it was not strong and heavy, fortunately. Yet the frequent raindrops made the land so gloomy as if the Hydro Archon was crying for days.

           A young maiden ran towards a nearby shelter, her shoes stepping on the muddy field and forming a small splash with each stride. Alas, she shielded herself from the cold droplets.

           The flowers in her arms were wet yet they still retained their shape and form. As much as she wanted to complain and scream at the sky for ruining her journey, she feared the Anemo Archon may hear her and punish her for saying such unthinkable things.

           She sighed disappointingly. Her fingers buried against the bouquet and held it tightly close to her. Her trip near the tower’s entrance had a purpose. She wasn’t aimlessly wandering, nor was she just a citizen passing through.

           No, she was here to ask for blessing from her nation’s god and his beloved. Legend has said if you offer an offering near the entrance, your wishes will be heeded. Of course, at first, she had doubts. There was no such thing as miracles. But she took back her word when an unbelievable and impossible incident became possible.

           Shortly after Ludi Harpastum, a festival of joy and celebration, a calamity struck. A massive storm surged. Houses were damaged, and the once vibrant fields lay ravaged. The disaster had devastated her family's home. Thankfully, the Knights of Favonius offered to let the victims stay at their headquarters for the meantime while they restore the city. And one thing she noticed, in particular, was how frequently the villagers are going outside the city to travel to the old broken tower.

           At first, she thought of it as simply gathering materials and the like. And her friends were tagging along with them, so she didn’t pay too much attention to it. But when those expeditions had become nothing with no result, she had grown suspicious.

           Everyone was bringing flowers, wines, and food.

           What were those for? That was the first thing she asked her mother after she returned to her “expedition”. Her mother smiled tiredly, patting her head affectionately before she motioned her to sit next to her.

           It seemed the offerings were meant to seek favor from the Anemo Archon.

           “By offering gifts and prayers to Lord Barbatos and his beloved, the city will be restored.”

           The daughter’s eyebrows scrunched together, her doubts growing further. “But will that really work? We can’t just simply sit still and pray then— poof!” She raised her arms, motioning them slowly like acting out an explosion, “Everything will magically return to normal,” she continued before flopping back to the edge of the bed.

           “Oh, you silly girl!” Her mother pulled her to her chest and playfully messed her hair which earned her a huff, but a lighthearted one which the mother fondly recognizes.

           The giggles and laughter died shortly as the dawn of silence took over the room. The candle was their only source of light and despite the poor lighting, she could easily notice there’s something on her mother’s mind that’s been distracting her.

           “Mom?” She called out. Her mother’s eyes flickered before snapping her gaze to her and forcing a smile.

           “It’s getting late, love. Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

           It was ridiculous. Laughable even, that her mother just offered to tell her bedtime stories when she’s already in her teens.

           “I think I’ll pass. I’m too old already for bedtime stories,” she replied, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a playful grin. “Who said you’re too ‘old’ for bedtime stories?” The mother feigned shock, her tone higher than before.

           She chuckled, shaking her head at her mother's antics. “Mom, you know what I mean. I’m sixteen!”

           Her mother's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in her eyes that didn't go unnoticed. “You'll always be my little one, no matter how old you are.”

           The daughter’s heart tugged in guilt then sighed in defeat. Whether it’s because her mother was manipulating her feelings or not, she’s unable to resist her pleading gaze. “F-fine, I wouldn’t mind hearing another story as long as it’s you telling me.” The woman smiled widely and supported her weight by resting her face on her palm.

           “Legend tells of a corner of the city that has been forgotten by the wind.”

           Her fingers brushed over her hair, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear whilst lovingly gazing at her, taking notes of the changes in her features. She knows her mother is being sentimental again over how quickly she grows. She understands those sentiments yet it’s best not to speak of the topic and make it depressing when the blitheness was there a minute ago.

           “To reach that place, one must stand before the fountain and close their eyes, then wait for thirty-five heartbeats, then walk seven circles clockwise around the fountain followed by seven further circles anticlockwise. Upon opening one's eyes, one will find they have arrived at a little shop…”

           The daughter closed her eyes and let her ears envelop the tune of her kin’s soft voice. Time had slowed down between them. It was only her and her mother together in this lone room with a single stalk of candle. She didn’t mind. After all, her voice was calming and soothing.

             She didn’t exactly remember when and how it happened. Because by the time she woke up and heard ruckus and clamor outside of the Favonius’s Headquarters, her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw.

           Everything was restored. As if the aftermath of the storm wasn’t there from the beginning… Everyone was cheering, crying, applauding, and gathering at the plaza where the statue of the nation’s god stands. She didn’t bother changing her clothes and doing her morning routine.

           She needs to understand— know— what in the world just happened. Pushing and squeezing her lithe frame against the closely packed multitude, she looked for any familiar faces to answer her horde of questions that began to bubble over her head.

           She called out to her friend and finally freed herself from the applauding audience to stand next to her friend.

           The girl's friend turned with a wide grin, their eyes reflecting the joyous atmosphere. "Can you believe it? It's like a miracle! The city is restored!"

           "But how?" she questioned, her eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might have answers.

           "Rumors say it was the Anemo Archon himself," they replied, pointing towards the statue of the god. "They say he granted our prayers and restored our home."

           She gazed at the statue, still skeptical of the sudden turn of events. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Her lips stuttered, unable to fathom their collective and unanimous praise.

           The corner of the friend's lips trembled. Their hands were shaking even if it was already on the girl's shoulder. She could feel them shaking— shaking like a scared dog but there was a big grin on their face.

           “The Anemo Archon forgave us of our sins.”

           That was the last thing she heard. The mutual and unified cries of the civilians, priests, and nuns, all together as they clasped their hands to one to honor and pray for their lord.

            But something felt amiss, a whisper of doubt amidst the jubilation. Why would the Anemo Archon intervene now? What sins were they being forgiven for? The questions swirled in her mind, leaving a lingering unease.

           If it was indeed the Anemo Archon's doing, she couldn't help but feel grateful. Yet, she wondered what had truly transpired. The mystery of the sudden restoration only deepened her curiosity.

           But days after days of trying to uncover the truth, all of those doubts are nothing but a disguise for her lack of faith in her god. She was just being an unfaithful devotee of Lord Barbatos. How could she? And she truly felt remorseful and guilty for having doubts of the Anemo Archon’s capabilities.

           He had saved their nation more than once aside from the recent events of the storm, and that was enough for her to be grateful to him. If it truly was a blessing from the Anemo Archon, a miracle of wherein she can believe in it, then please…

           The bouquet in her hold was settled on the concrete flooring. She ignored the raindrops collecting into the fabric of her blouse, focusing on her prayers and her prayers alone. Her fingers clasped together, intertwining into a tight grip as she muted out every noise, every raindrop.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,” she whispered fervently, her voice barely audible over the patter of the rain.

           Her mother had always been her pillar of strength, her unwavering support. The thought of losing her was too much to bear. So, with her heart heavy with worry, she offered her prayers to the divine, seeking protection and healing for her loved one.

  —

             The tempest of the snowstorm was undoubtedly so cold that even his cloak was not enough for him to provide the warmth he sought. Venti peeked over the window of his room, watching over the tower looming over them so ominously.

           A little jingling was heard next to him and it was enough to recognize who it was even if he was not looking where his little friend was.

           “We are so close to the outside world…” He mumbled to himself, vigilant eyes unfaltering as if he was fighting against the mere stack of bricks. “And tomorrow we’re going to face Decarabian…” He shifted his gaze to the figure sleeping on the other side of the bed.

           The little wisp levitated over to him slowly and tilted its head before letting out another chime of jingle. Venti chuckled and lightly patted the two little sprouts sticking out of its head.

           “I’m not afraid,” He replied. “But I am afraid of losing her…”

           He glanced at the sleeping figure once more, a wave of emotions crashing within him. The weight of the impending battle was heavy on his shoulders, but his love for her, and his determination to protect her, was even heavier. The wind stirred outside, a reminder of his responsibility to liberate the nation, but in this quiet moment, his thoughts were only for her.

           Barbatos’s two dotted white eyes squeezed, reassuring his friend as he twirled over to you and gave another set of ringing. He patiently waited if he had another word to say, but it was enough of an indication when the wisp returned to lodge next to him. Venti easily deciphered what he was saying:

           “I may be a wisp, but I will do everything in my power to protect the both of you.”

           His eyes creased before he cupped his hands and gently lifted Barbatos so they could see each other eye to eye. “Thank you. That means a lot. I started this rebellion myself and I’d be willing to do anything. However…”

           The young bard briefly paused, staring absently at where you lay and Barbatos followed his gaze. It was not unusual for Venti to be deep in his thoughts. With how they have often been together, it’s one characteristic of him that Barbatos took notice of.

           But unlike his deep pondering, within his deep blue eyes he could see swirls of uneasiness. Eyes of worry lost in contemplation, reflected a storm of concern. The furrowed brow framed windows into a troubled mind, where the weight of thoughts etched delicate lines around the eyes. In their depths, shadows danced, revealing a tumultuous sea of unease. The gaze, once bright, now carried a subdued flicker, like embers struggling against the encroaching darkness.

           Barbatos was quiet but he slowly approached his friend and flew over his shoulder. The wisp already knew what was bothering him, but he didn’t break the silence. Rather, he let the silence consume them.

           He already knew this war would be a matter of life and death. Full of bloodshed and ruthless crashing of swords and greatswords all for the sake of freedom. They had lost several allies, what more if Venti loses you?

           What more if you lose him?

           Venti bitterly laughed to himself, catching Barbatos off-guard. He wanted to soothe his friend, but the cold sweat running over to the nape of Venti’s neck and the clenching of his fist over to his shorts was enough to come to a conclusion: Venti was scared.

           How come when he’s this close— they’re so close, he began to cower? He prepared himself in and out. From days to weeks, weeks to months, he led and planned everything with precision. Did he doubt his capabilities? Or was he scared they would never obtain freedom? Perhaps the weight of responsibility pressed harder than he let on.

           The impending battle with Decarabian, a foe of colossal proportions, bore down on him. The prospect of facing an archaic power, an entity that once ruled over Mondstadt, sent shivers down even the god of freedom’s spine.

           Venti cast a sidelong glance at the peacefully slumbering figure beside him. In the quiet of the room, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest served as a stark reminder of what he stood to lose. The very thought of harm befalling you awakened a vulnerability he tried to bury beneath the bravado.

           He sighed, a mix of frustration and self-awareness. The war-torn history and the battles fought in the shadows, all led to this moment. Yet, the proximity of his friend, the one who anchored him, uncovered a layer of trepidation he never fully acknowledged.

           The little wisp fluttered near him, its tiny form a manifestation of loyalty. It chimed softly, a melody of encouragement. Venti managed a rueful smile, realizing that even Barbatos wasn’t immune to the currents of fear and doubt. The approaching conflict, an inevitable clash with the remnants of a bygone era, hung heavy in the air.

           Perhaps it was fate upon meeting two important people,  in Barbatos’s life; and never did he foresee he’d forge a deeper relationship with them.

           Amidst the raging storms, he thought he would never be heard but alas there a boy clad in a dark cloak with a lyre in his hand appeared in front of him.

           “Barbatos,” he called. “If anything happens to me, protect [Name] for me, alright?” Venti stood up from his seat and discreetly walked over to your bed. Barbatos watched from a distance. The bard’s hand gently brushed over your tousled locks as he lovingly smoothed the disarray of strands.

           Venti's eyes held a tenderness, a silent promise etched within the gentle caress. The room was filled with a hushed intimacy, interrupted only by the soft rustle of hair beneath his fingers. He delicately gathered a handful of your hair, the strands flowing through his fingers like silken threads. Holding them close to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss upon them.

           “Watch over her. Promise me that. Please…”

           Barbatos, observing this silent exchange, nodded in understanding. The air in the room seemed to shimmer with an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended the uncertainties of the impending conflict.

  —

             Freedom. That’s all that matters. That’s all that matters to the people of Mond. Freedom is everything to them, and if it were to be taken from them, they would rebel and fight for it to get what is rightfully theirs.

           That is what everyone fought for. That is what Venti fought for when the tyrant locked them up. And that freedom is what he promised to seek for his dearly beloved.

           The promise… That’s right, the promise.

           Barbatos made a promise to his friend: to guard and keep you safe from your father’s wrath. That he achieved. He did not need any of those extravagant praises from everyone, or a luxurious celebration that he protected the last survivor of the royal family. Your love and attention were enough for him as his honorarium, and if his plans went smoothly, then he couldn’t ask for more than your presence.

           But what about his promise to you? Not as Venti, not as Barbatos the Anemo Archon, but as Barbatos the wind wisp. He faintly recalled from his memories, vague echoes of your voice ringing in his head to protect your dear. He could hear your cries, he could vision your tearful face, and he could smell the faint aroma of smoke and blood from the past.

           “Barbatos, please. Protect Venti…”

           He stood at the precipice of conflicting roles, torn between the weight of his promise to the girl he cherished and the duty he bore as the Anemo Archon. The memories of her pleas echoed through the chambers of his mind, each word a poignant reminder of the sacrifice she had made.

           As he prepared for the impending battle against Decarabian, Barbatos couldn't shake the dual nature of his existence. The freedom he had fought for was now intertwined with the personal pledge he made to safeguard Venti—the mortal guise he wore to be closer to you.

           The wind wisp, a manifestation of his divine essence, hovered beside him, a silent witness to the internal struggle. Barbatos knew that protecting Venti meant more than shielding the bard from physical harm; it meant preserving the essence of the person he had become through his interactions with you.

           The wind wisp chimed softly, a comforting melody that seemed to say, "I'll protect what you hold dear." At that moment, Barbatos made a silent vow to honor both promises—to secure the freedom of Mondstadt and to shield the vulnerable heart of the bard who had become an inseparable part of his divine existence.

           Yet no matter how much he convinced himself that he still preserved the life of Venti for all these years, those were merely pathetic excuses he gave to himself that he was unable to protect him. That was the harsh truth he wished to never know. The harsh truth he often ran away from. The harsh truth is the least he wanted you to know. And because of that harsh truth, you will never be able to uphold your promise to Venti to travel the world with him.

           You were living a life of lies.

           “I hate you,”

           Such vile words escaped from your delicate lips, coated with nothing but hatred. All love was lost and diminished. Resentment smoldered within you, a slow-burning fire that refused to be extinguished.

           “I hate you!”

           Three venomous words stung into his heart and soul. His eyes, once alight with the sparkle of mischief, were now dimmed by the torrent of tears that streamed down his ethereal face. He reached out his hand to you as tears cascaded down like a torrent.

           “[Name], no… Don’t leave me, please!”

           His voice cracked, carrying the weight of a thousand heartbreaks. His outstretched hand trembled, fingers desperately reaching for something that was slipping away.

           The once carefree Anemo Archon was now a broken deity, his essence shattered by the cruelty of your hatred.

           “No, no, no!! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here!!”

           His chest heaved with sobs, each tear a testament to the agony that consumed him. The celestial realm seemed to weep alongside him, mirroring the storm within his soul.

           Barbatos jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The echoes of your anguished words still reverberated in his ears, a haunting melody that refused to fade. The room felt oppressive, shadows dancing on the walls like spectral remnants of the nightmare that had gripped him.

           His chest heaved as he tried to dispel the lingering emotions from the dream. The remnants of your hatred clung to him, a weight that threatened to drown him in a sea of regret. The moon cast a soft glow through the window, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had unfolded in the dream.

           With trembling hands, Barbatos wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, realizing that he had been pulled into the depths of a waking nightmare. The images of your tears and the venomous words hung in the air, a phantom reality that felt too close for comfort.

           He whipped his head and cast his eyes promptly into the quiet room until they landed on a maiden deep in her slumber. Barbatos sighed in relief and for a moment, he simply sat there, the silence broken only by the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. The nightmare had been a cruel reminder of the consequences of his choices, a vivid manifestation of the fears that lingered in the recesses of his heart.

           The lies Barbatos had forged for years were now haunting him. The lies that shielded you from the brutal reality all for the sake of selfish love. Barbatos had meticulously woven a tapestry of deception to protect you from the burden of his divine obligations, but mostly from his growing sick and obsessive love for you.

           You still haven’t discovered he was the new Anemo Archon until the blonde traveler told you everything about him during the night of the Ludi Harpastum festival. Barbatos scoffed, recalling how you were so caught off guard when the truth finally surfaced after you were separated from him. If only that pesky traveler and his fairy companion just minded their own business, he wouldn't need to cast you into a deep yet tranquil slumber.

           With great reluctance, he drew himself up and looked at the girl who held a very special place in his heart. You’ve brought so much joy and happiness to his life, not to mention more laughter than anyone else ever could. To see you seething with anger and searing pain would bring a weight on his chest like nothing else.

           Barbatos slowly embraced your hand to his, slipping his fingers in between, and softly brushed his lips along your knuckles, kissing each of them one by one. His vision blurred as his gaze wandered towards your angelic features, but a sudden pang of panic gripped his heart.

           “I didn’t knock her hard, have I?” he asked himself, his mind suddenly clouded with worry. The archon sighed deeply, berating himself over his unplanned actions. It was fortunate he still knew how to wield his powers and put you to sleep. He just hoped he didn’t dose you too much where it’ll take you years for you to wake up. He could only hope you’ll wake up soon, otherwise he might throw another outburst in Mondstadt.

           You've always brought light into his world and filled him with warmth. In a matter of minutes, you've managed to affect him in ways he never thought possible. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly, replaying the many times he found comfort in your arms or gave him a loving smile. There were many things he would like to say, but for now, his turbulent state of mind is not helping him.

           Barbatos groaned in frustration, ruffling his head in sheer irritation. It took every ounce of strength within him to restrain himself from throttling some ignorant traveler. Those ungrateful bastards deserve to pay dearly for ruining his precious morning.

           His rigid frame softened and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Barbatos slumped on the floor next to you and hugged his knees.

           As if afraid to wake up, it feels like a waste to even blink within this dream. And to think that the other side of the sky is so vast… Does he deserve this ending?

           Sometimes some things can’t be helped. While wounded by his own helplessness, the present in all its clumsiness, is changing into a brilliance of fabric reality.

           The more I protect it, the more it looks fragile. And the more I steal it, the more I want it…

           Barbatos sighed, the weight of his internal conflict bearing down on him. You’re everything to him—his source of strength, his light in the darkness, and the light at the end of the tunnel he was always seeking. The guilt that slowly piled upon him like countless millstones on a tree of regret and the past memories won’t let him move forward, hindering him from doing what’s right.

           He knew you deserved better than what he had given you. He’s been hiding a lot of things from you: his identity, his status as an archon, and even the death of Venti.

           Barbatos tugged his hair tighter, his frustration palpable in the agitated movements. He couldn't escape the relentless truth that bound him — because to you, Barbatos was merely your wisp friend. He was not the Anemo Archon, and certainly not the free-spirited bard.

           It frustrates me because I can’t be him and it begins to burn at my throat.

           Biting his lips, blood drew out. How cruel was he to decide to pose as your lover? He only wanted to be loved, cherished, and adored. To hide behind masks of illusions and cruelty? It’s not what you deserve.

           He clutched at his chest as if trying to quell the searing pain that echoed through his heart. The memories of carefree days as Venti taunted him like elusive specters. The laughter, the music, the unburdened joy — they felt like distant echoes mocking him in his current divine form.

           Barbatos needs you. Venti needs you. He fumblingly sauntered to your bed and gently opened his palms, caressing your soft skin. He felt a newborn warmth along him.

           The deceptive dance of his identity left him feeling vulnerable. The looming possibility that you might leave him once you wake up and still remember the truth was a haunting specter. Every moment spent with you was tinged with the fear of losing the connection he so desperately craved. For now, everything is falling into place. He'll continue to act as him even if it means to deceive you. But that won't ever happen again, he'll be careful— cautious— about everything he does around you. The past will never haunt him anymore. It will never touch you.

        You will never know. It was all a dream. A nightmare. But it's better not to mention anything of what happened that night, isn't it? It's the best and safest option. The world that should be smiling kindly to you and his friend reverted to his direction, taking their wishes that were never his from the beginning.

           There’s a place he yearns for but can never reach. The place he wants so much but can never grasp. He almost forgot to wish when he gazed in the distance.

           In his tightly clenched fist, his heartbeat is heating up again. Leaning down, he rested his head against your stomach and closed his eyes, breathing in the same pattern as yours in rhythm.

           “I love you,” he whispered, fluttering his lashes to where you lay and gazing at you oh so lovingly. His fingers trickled to your arm, clinging and clutching, before traveling to your bare neck. “You love me too, right, [Name]? You’ve always said you love me.”

           He crawled over you, his physique looming over your comatose state. His teal irises glittered as he peered closely at your sleeping face. His lips curved upwards in a smile before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

           That dreamless sleep, the veil between worlds will fall aside. His lingering touch, beaming with emotions he wasn’t aware of, glistening with affection, reverence, and lust all at once, creating a warm nimbus aura around his body. All while his unguarded words formed something like a prayer.

           “Oh love, you’re so pretty… so tender, and so beautiful.”

           His slender finger gently traced the contours of your face, tracing every outline of the contour of your nose, cheeks, and lastly lips. It lingered for more than a few seconds. He leaned in, slowly and carefully. He stared at you and let them blur as he stroked your cheeks.

           There was no response, not even an inkling of recognition or reaction.

           He exhaled shakily, taking off any remorse or guilt left in his conscience, and pressed his lips against yours. He savored the sweet taste that lingered on your dry lips.

           I love you, I love you, I love you…

           Despite their parched state, he paid no mind, lost in the intoxicating essence of your embrace. His kiss was light and soft, yet it held a fervent passion as if the dryness of your lips only intensified the craving for the delectable flavor he found there.

           I love you so much, [Name]. The things you do to me…

           With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and relished every bit of your breath, wanting nothing more than to get drunk on its sweetness. Barbatos slowly pulled away, his lips tugging your bottom lip before it bounced back to its place. He panted, blinking for a few moments.

           A kiss with you has always been his favorite, and it didn’t take too long for him to know he wanted more because shortly he went back and connected his lips with yours again.

           A kiss here, and another kiss, and another, and another. It went on a cycle, an endless loop that he didn't even know how long he had been kissing you repeatedly. So sweet. So enticing. One short kiss after another, he wanted to engrave this in his mind.

           With every passionate lip-lock, he became more obsessed. In all honesty, he felt that he would die if he stopped, the taste still lingering in his mouth and permeating through his whole being. You’re the ethereal drug, a celestial intoxication that transports him to heavenly realms.

           Barbatos, feeling an unsettling shift in the air, abruptly sensed an intruder nearing the ancient ruins and broke the kiss. He gritted his teeth and summoned swift wind spirits to investigate the entrance. Their ethereal forms swirled with urgency as they darted towards the source of the disturbance.

           Whoever dared to step foot in here will not be spared. He already warned them if they wish to be spared from his wrath. The archon's eyes, usually serene, now flickered with an intensity born of both irritation and vigilance as he awaited the wind spirits' report.

           Upon checking, a lone maiden was standing near the wind barriers. She placed the bouquet of Cecilia flowers on the altar created by the Church for their offerings.

           "For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always. For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same.”

           What a peculiar girl letting herself drenched in rain. The rain was strong and despite the bad weather, she still offered her prayers to him.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,”

           Her prayers echoed in his ears. Barbatos crossed his arms and watched her from afar through the eyes of the spirit he cast. A lot of things have changed in Mondstadt. The city, the village, and even Stormterror’s Lair where he currently resides with you.

           He didn’t pay any particular attention to the changes outside of the ruins. But he did notice many of his people frequently visited this area to pray and ask for their blessings. Perhaps someone from the Church must have noticed him and thought this was his abode, and decided to create a shrine here, but also making sure it won’t ever disturb him.

           It’s been a while since Ludi Harpastum ended. He didn’t want to admit it but he’s been counting the days since you’ve been asleep. From minutes to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks, he never left your side. But he didn’t merely sulk in the corner, waiting for signs of you waking up. Unlike before, he decided to terraform the ruins to make it more to your liking.

           He remembers very well that you love the garden of the manor, so he made a special area for you. He remembers you love your library in the tower, so he prepared lots of books for you to read. He remembers the fountain you’d always whisper your wishes at, so he built it for you. All these things he had done, he did it for you while he waited for you to open your eyes.

           The very essence of his being intertwined with the elements, breathing life into the desolate ruins. As he lifted his hands, a harmonious dance of nature began.

           The once crumbling tower regained its majestic stature, rising from the ground as if it had never suffered the scars of time. Petals of vibrant flowers cascaded in a gentle descent, wrapping around the structure like a colorful embrace. An intricate tapestry of blossoms adorned the surroundings, replacing the debris and rubble with a carpet of nature's beauty.

           The Anemo Archon had woven a tapestry of renewal and growth, turning the dilapidated ruins into a sanctuary of life and vitality. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, and the ambiance echoed the melody of his power, a testament to the god's ability to shape the very fabric of the world.

           He made the once rubbled, stormy lair into a sanctuary haven for his dear. It’s his gift for you that once you’re awake, you’ll dance around with him and live the life with him you’ve always dreamed of.

           He must admit though, the shrine built by the Church of Favonius was exceptionally well made and further enhanced the beauty of this sanctuary. Barbatos sighed, contemplating if he should aid the young girl by sheltering her. He never meant to become a ruthless archon and that is far from his ideals.

           His drastic change was all because of Aether. Of course, it was him. He’s too smart for his own good and Barbatos hates how quick he is to catch on to his relationship with you. But he’s here to change everything. So if he wanted to make a good image as an archon to his people, then so be it. After all, he only wanted your perception of him and that’s all he cares about. Nothing more, nothing else.

           He’ll make everything right this time. If you see him as reliable and trustworthy, then he’ll be loved by you. Finally taking his decision, he ordered his little spirits to guide the girl to find shelter. As for her prayers…

           Barbatos is no genie. He couldn’t guarantee all of his followers’ prayers. He’s not like the Dendro Archon who could cure illnesses…

           He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling on his shoulders. Being an archon was not a walk in the park. The expectations of the people, the intricacies of diplomacy with other nations, the constant struggle to maintain balance—all of it took its toll. Barbatos couldn't afford to let his guard down.

           News about his rampage must have reached his neighboring countries and he doesn’t want another burden to be added to his already tumultuous situation. As he watched the wind spirits guide the girl to safety, he couldn't help but feel the isolation that came with his position.

           The tower, now restored, stood as a symbol of his power, but it also harbored the secrets he desperately wanted to keep hidden. Aether's presence had disrupted the delicate equilibrium he had crafted, forcing him to confront the challenges that came with being both a god and a man.

           His thoughts circled back to you. Would you ever understand the complexities of his existence? The burden he carried for Mondstadt and its people? As the archon, he had to maintain an image, but beneath the divine facade, there was a being struggling with the desire for love and understanding. He also wanted you to see him as Barbatos.

           Not the Anemo Archon, but simply Barbatos, a young man who loves you through Celestia and Teyvat. Who harbored feelings for you for millennia.

           He shook off his inner turmoil, his eyes focusing on the horizon beyond the borders of the sanctuary. The wind carried whispers of prayers, and he knew he couldn't fulfill them all. The duties of an archon were exceptionally hard, and the struggles were his to bear. The winds howled in response, a melancholic melody echoing the challenges he faced.

           He sighed for the nth time, exhaustion began to creep over him. He placed the back of his hand over to his head to ease the throbbing pain of a migraine. The constant internal conflict and the strain of maintaining appearances were taking their toll.

           As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he summoned a gentle breeze to soothe his troubled mind. The rustle of leaves and the familiar scent of the wind helped him find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. He turned his back and returned to where you were.

           Barbatos kissed you on the lips and it calmed him, more effective than the breeze he used to himself. You’re always his cure, the one constant that brought tranquility to his turbulent existence. The soft touch of your lips against his was a momentary escape from the weight of his responsibilities. As he pulled away, a faint smile played on his lips, grateful for the solace you unknowingly provided him.

           “I promise you, I’ll make this our sanctuary.”

           At the end of his lonely world, maybe he’ll arrive at his true world with no regrets or remorse.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute

sorry for the delay on the update. i announced on my tumblr that i would be posting this chapter in late august or early september but a lot of things happened and i self-sabotaged this sob

[simptasia]

my mum has stage four cancer

[qimir-the-stranger]

We get it, Disney. We get it.

Star Wars is not for women.

Star Wars is not for Black people.

Star Wars is not for Asian people.

Star Wars is not for Queer people.

Star Wars is not for anyone who is marginalized and has different lived experiences.

Nope. Star Wars is ONLY for cishet white men. We hear you loud and clear. We know you don’t care about us at all.

[introspectivememories]

buggy who turns to shanks one night after they've reunited and says softly, with indecipherable look in his eyes and says, "i'm not in love with you anymore." and shanks, shocked beyond belief, heart aching with a want he didn't even know he had, with a need he hadn't even realized was there, thinks quietly to himself, i didn't know you ever were

[yr-fallen-comet]

i've never drawn jellie before, but i feel i should give her a fitting sendoff.

goodbye, jellie. your memory will live on.

2006-2024.

[penguinkyun]

kana and ruby are both characters who have been abandoned, whether it was unintentional or intentional, so kana deciding to take this heartbreaking step all to help ruby by appearing to abandon her knowing the devastation she is about to wreak because she's experienced it herself but doing it anyway because kana arima has never been more important than other peoples dreams and goals has always been the one to be sacrifice she does it again because she will be fine she always has been shes always been alone (right?)

(maybe a part of her is finally happy to say it all to let it all out but she buries that part because its shameful, isnt it? why should she take catharsis when shes caused her friend pain?)

and ruby who has been left behind being suddenly blindsided by this betrayal from kana, the one whos always supported her, on top of every other betrayal she has experienced left doubting every relationship she has wondering why why why why do people keep leaving?

[immamapletreekid]

instead of grinding for finals i lost hours to a one piece wiki spiral

[exopelagic]

i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy

[theghostofashton]

i finished reading cobalt red by siddharth kara last night, and i feel like it's a good place to start if you want to learn more about what's happening in the DRC right now. kara visited the mines and talked to the people working in them, and his reaccounts are truly devastating. we take for granted the products of their labor that is literally getting them killed day after day, and for that reason alone i feel like this book is a necessary read.

[dizzybevvie]

my uncle: (calls me the R word) (comes to my house exclusively to infodump to me about horror games)