#there was a part where there was a shadow over the lantern and i couldn't figure out where it was coming from

[aurosoulart]

spent some time on the ridge with my dragon this weekend, making magical lanterns and releasing them over the reservoir. 🏮✨

[cece693]

Stupid Crush Pt. 2 (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

Because many of you keep requesting a part two of my original post, I couldn't help myself :) However, you might hate me for this but I want to practice writing sad endings, so if you aren't comfortable with that, I suggest living blind.

link to part one

tags: breakup, no making up, reader tries to move on, major character death, ambiguous ending, heartbreak

Nico di Angelo had never been one to give up easily, and when it came to you, he refused to let you slip away without a fight. Even after your breakup—after the heart-wrenching conversation that left him feeling gutted and empty—Nico couldn’t accept that it was truly over. He loved you. He knew he had made mistakes, but there was no way he could let that be the end.

For weeks after your relationship had ended, Nico threw himself into trying to prove his love. He started small, hoping that maybe you’d notice: he’d offer to help with your tasks, leaving small reminders that he still cared. He lingered around the Argo II, hoping for a chance to talk, to catch your eye. But every time, you kept your distance.

But then came the war.

The final fight against Gaea loomed over them all, leaving little room for anything other than survival. The battle was brutal, stretching the demigods to their limits, and for a while, Nico had to push his desire to win you back aside. They were fighting for their lives now. There was no time for hearts and feelings when the world was on the verge of collapse.

Even as he fought with everything he had, one thought kept Nico going: you. He clung to the hope that when this was all over, when Gaea was defeated, and the war was behind them, he would have another chance. Every swing of his sword, every shadow he manipulated, every ounce of his energy was fueled by the need to return to your side. He had to survive. He had to make it back to you. The war didn't come without a cost; many campers had died in battle, and with restoration efforts taking everyone's time, Nico didn't breach you or the topic until a week later.

He took it a step further. If you didn't want to see Nico, he will leave reminders of his love. This gesture alone should tell you how much you meant to him; he was always someone who kept his emotions buried beneath layers of coldess and sarcasm. But for you, he would try. He left small letters under your door—handwritten notes that declared his love in ways that were unfamiliar to him. They were never long, just a few lines scrawled in his messy handwriting, but they held every ounce of sincerity Nico could muster:

I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.

You were never the second choice. I wish I could make you see that.

I’m still here. Waiting.

He even placed his skull ring inside one of those notes, hoping that action alone would make you answer his pleads, but to no avail. Finally, after countless sleepless nights and too many failed attempts to reach you, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He needed closure. He needed to hear your voice, even if it ended with you punching him (rightfully so.)

It was late in the evening when Nico made his way to your cabin. The sky was painted in hues of deep purple and orange, the last remnants of the sunset casting long shadows across the camp. Nico’s heart pounded in his chest, dread and hope warring within him as he stood outside your door. He knocked, and after a long moment, the door creaked open.

You stood there, framed by the soft glow of the cabin’s lanterns, your expression unreadable. You didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Nico, waiting. Nico swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. The cabin was quiet, Percy nowhere to be seen. For that, Nico was thankful. He wouldn't be surprised if you had told Percy what occurred that day. He stood there for a moment, unsure where to begin. He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head a thousand times, but now that he was here, in front of you, the words felt heavy, stuck in his throat.

“I—I’ve been trying to show you that I’m sorry,” Nico started, his voice shaky. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I never wanted to. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

"Nico." You whispered softly, eyes softening. "I-I'm trying things out with Will."

Nico's world shattered. "What?" was all he could muster. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what you had just said. His mouth opened, then closed, and for a moment he looked like he was going to crumble right in front of you.

“I…I’m trying things out with Will,” you repeated, a bit more firmly this time. Your voice was gentle, but there was a finality to it that made Nico’s heart twist painfully. His gaze dropped to the floor, staring at his shoes as if they held some kind of answer he couldn’t find in your eyes.

The silence stretched on between you, heavy and suffocating. Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the weight of all his efforts—the letters, the gifts, the endless nights of regret—collapsing under the simple truth of your words. He wanted to scream, to beg you to reconsider, but his voice failed him. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was barely a whisper.

“When did this happen?” His throat felt tight, like the air was being squeezed out of him, but he forced himself to look up, to meet your gaze even though it hurt.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “A few weeks after the battle with Gaea. Will and I…we just started talking, and things…they just happened.”

Nico’s heart twisted again, sharper this time, like a knife being driven deeper. The battle with Gaea—the war that had forced him to pause his desperate attempts to win you back, the war he had survived just so he could return to your side—had been the turning point for you, but not in the way he had hoped. He’d come back, bruised and exhausted, believing that his chance would come after the fighting was done. But the war had ended, and you had already found someone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhaled slowly, the sadness in your eyes deepening. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was waiting for the right moment, but there never seemed to be one. You’ve been trying so hard, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I had moved on.”

He flinched, feeling the sting of those words cut deep. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to stop them from shaking. “Moved on?” The disbelief in his voice was raw, painful. “I never stopped loving you. Every day, I thought of ways to make it right, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I know, Nico.” Your voice was almost pleading now, as if you wanted him to understand. “I saw everything you did. The letters, the ring—you don’t know how much it meant to me. But it’s not about how much you love me, Nico. It’s about trust. It’s about how I felt and how I still feel.”

“Then why did you keep the ring?” he asked desperately, his voice breaking as he gestured towards your desk, where his skull ring still sat, untouched since the day he left it there.

You looked away, your expression pained. “Because a part of me will always care for you. You were my first love, and I’ll never forget that. But Will, he’s been there for me in a way I needed. He’s open, and he doesn’t hide from me. I needed someone who could be honest with me, and you never were.”

The words felt like a slap to Nico’s face. He stepped back, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears burning in his eyes. “I wanted to be,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I tried. I tried so hard.”

“I know you did,” you said softly, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “But sometimes trying isn’t enough.”

Nico’s chest tightened, and he felt the darkness inside him stirring—the familiar, suffocating void that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. He’d fought so hard to keep it at bay, to be stronger for you. But now, standing in your cabin with the truth hanging between you like a wall he could never break through, he felt it closing in on him again.

“I—I have to go,” he choked out, turning away before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at you any longer, not when the weight of your rejection was crushing him from the inside out.

“Nico, wait—” you called after him, but he was already halfway to the door, his footsteps heavy and unsteady. He paused, just for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, and for a second he thought about turning back, about begging you one last time not to leave him behind. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. Your mind was made up, and no amount of pleading would change that.

Without another word, Nico stepped out into the night, the cool breeze washing over him as he made his way toward the darkness beyond. The camp was quiet, the stars twinkling overhead, but all he could see was the shattered remains of his hopes and dreams, lying in pieces around him. He had tried—he had tried so hard—but in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

As he walked away, the darkness swallowed him whole, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t try to fight it.

Three days later, the camp was still buzzing with post-war activity. You threw yourself into helping with the rebuilding, avoiding thoughts of Nico and the painful conversation that had ended it all. Will was always by your side, his presence a comfort to your wounded heart. It wasn't that you didn't love Nico anymore; you would perhaps love him for the rest of your life, but it was time to put yourself first.

One afternoon, you were helping organize the infirmary with Will when a sudden, cold chill ran down your spine. You froze, a sense of dread settling over you. Before you could say anything, a shout rang out from outside, a voice filled with panic and fear. “There’s been an attack!”

You and Will bolted out of the cabin, following the frantic crowd toward the forest’s edge. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pushed through the campers, the anxiety mounting with every step. When you finally reached the clearing, you saw them—several demigods huddled around a small, motionless figure lying in the grass.

“No,” you whispered, your blood turning to ice as you caught sight of the dark clothes, the familiar face pale and still. “Nico…”

Will was already kneeling beside him, his hands glowing with golden light as he tried to heal the deep, ragged wound that marred Nico’s side. But you could see it in his eyes—the terror, the hopelessness. The injury was too severe, the damage too great.

“No, no, no,” you said, falling to your knees beside him, your hands hovering helplessly over Nico’s broken body. His eyes fluttered open, just barely, the shadows that had once seemed so invincible now dimmed to a fragile flicker.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a faint rasp that barely reached your ears. His gaze was distant, glassy, but somehow he managed to find yours, a small, sad smile ghosting across his lips. “I never meant to hurt you."

A sob caught in your throat as you cupped his cheek, your hands trembling. “Nico, please…Just hold on,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of panic and grief.

Nico’s smile wavered, his chest shuddering with the effort to breathe. “I’m…I’m so tired,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to drift shut, the pain etched into every line of his face. “I wanted to make things right…to make you…happy.” Each word came slower, his strength ebbing away with every breath he took.

“You did,” you said, your voice fierce despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed his hand harder, as if the strength of your grip alone could keep him tethered to this world. “Nico, you did make me happy. You still do. Just stay with me. Please, Nico, don’t go.”

A tear slid down Nico's pale cheek, mingling with the blood that stained his skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the words barely a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. “Always…love you.”

“I love you too,” you choked out, pressing your forehead against his, your tears mingling with his. You felt his body go slack, his hand falling limp in your grasp. “Nico! No, please! Nico!” You held his body close, your heart breaking all over again as the truth settled over you. The boy who had fought through hell for you, who had bared his soul and faced his deepest fears, was gone.

His last breath had been a promise—a truth you’d never doubted, even when he had hurt you. But now, that truth lay heavy in your arms, lifeless and still. His body felt too small, too fragile, for someone who had carried so much pain, who had survived so much darkness. The only comfort you took was that you would see Nico again. That was a promise.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

OKAY IVE GOT A REALLY CHAOTIC IDEA THATS BEEN ROTATING IN MY BRAIN FOR AGES BRJDFIF

M6 sharing a living space - and I’m not talking one of Nadia’s palaces where they can avoid each other, but like, a tiny safe house or something like that

Imagine the chaos 😭

Vesuvia Weekly: A Date With Disaster

"So, it's settled, then." You stand up and dust off your hands. "We're ... going camping ... all seven of us ... together ... in one tent."

"It would seem so." Nadia looks down her nose at her tea in poorly concealed disgust. "I'll make a note to bring a fair amount of wine."

"Can you double that?" Asra asks from the floor. Muriel, sulking in the corner nearby, seems seconds away from breaking his characteristic silence to ask if the amount could be tripled.

"C'mon, Noddy, nobody likes a party pooper!" You can see the bead of sweat trickling down Lucio's temple, but you appreciate his skewed levels of optimism for once. Portia takes her cue from him.

"Yeah, this isn't all bad! We can bring snacks, and games, and - ooh! I call sleeping next to MC!"

"Pasha, noooo ~" You don't think you've ever heard Julian sound so whiny in your life, but nothing brings out someone's inner child like the person they grew up with. "I wanted to sleep next to MC."

"You can always take their other side -"

"I'm calling it." Asra grins smugly up from Nadia's carpet. The Countess in questions meets their eyes with a sly smirk.

"If I recall correctly, you and our darling MC have been sharing sleeping arrangements for the last several years at least. I shall occupy their other side."

Asra shrugs. "Fine. I'll be their pillow, then."

"WHAT -" Lucio screeches. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Muriel silently holding the door open for a speedy escape. The two of you slip out practically unnoticed, just as you catch the tail end of Julian's demands.

"In that case, I volunteer to keep their feet warm -"

You glance up at the silent shadow next to you as he guides you through the fastest route out of the Palace.

"Did you have any requests?"

"Me?" He looks down at you in surprise, and then turns away with a pout. "No. I'll be sleeping across the door."

You laugh. "So you can be the first to escape?"

He shakes his head as you part ways. "So I can keep guard."

Well, you think, here goes our date with disaster -

----------------------------------------

Notable highlights of the trip:

Lucio figured out how to grill meat over the fire on his metal hand. He did not figure out how to wash the residue off

Everyone discovered Julian's fear of the dark as soon as Nadia turned off the last lantern and he immediately latched onto your feet, causing you to reflexively kick out and accidentally igniting a short, tent-wide wrestling match

Portia brought so much homemade food you were almost tempted to stay an extra day and finish it all. You did not.

Nadia's insomnia made a fierce comeback as soon as she was sleeping in a flimsy bag with cloth for walls and uneven ground underneath. She was very grumpy and uncharacteristically disheveled in the morning

Muriel accidentally stumbled on a lost baby squirrel, which promptly imprinted on him and followed him around everywhere. Portia and Lucio both threw whining fits when he couldn't force it to like them or willingly sit in their hands

Asra "accidentally" tripped Lucio right next to a cold, muddy spring and then so happened to have a change of clothes in his size - which is to say, an adult-sized goat onesie. They also had onesies for everyone else, including a puppy one for you!

[ashessonfire]

Okay so I have a fic idea and I’m a bit obsessed with it so hope you like it too!!

I was imagining that the reader is part of the crows and they do a job where the reader and Jesper get cursed or poisoned where they just stay in a coma like state.

The crows try everything to wake them up but nothing works and one day Wylan kisses Jesper and Jesper wakes up so they realise the cure is TRUE LOVES KISS!

Kaz is obviously in denial about his feelings and thinks the reader can’t possibly love him back so he doesn’t even try and the other crows start getting really mad at him and basically force him to kiss the reader and she obviously wakes up too!

I was thinking lots of angst and worrying and pining before the kiss because I love pain haha

I would absolutely love you forever as ever if you could write this! ❤️

'Fairytale' - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt: Kaz sends you and Jesper on a heist, which results in the pair on the brink of death. Can Kaz face his trauma and save the person he loves most? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader (pre-relationship) - Warnings: Mentions of asphyxiation (gas poison like season 2), Jesper and reader fall into a coma like state, descriptions of Kaz's trauma, nothing too graphic i dont think?? Angst, angst, angst

A/N: Anon i just have to say i love you, this request is EVERYTHING. Its a long one but i just couldn't stop writing! Please keep requests coming, you guys have incredible ideas!!! P.S Thank you all for 5000 notes already <3

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The second the words ‘Jesper’ and ‘Y/N’ coincided with the word ‘heist’, fits of laughter and screeches of excitement escaped the pair in question. It was rare that the friends could spend a mission entirely alone, obviously working diligently, but stopping by for drinks afterwards, unbeknownst to their boss.

Kaz rolled his eyes, fixing a dull look at the two, lip curling up in what may have appeared to be disgust. However, you caught the playful glint in his eye, just illuminated by the club’s oil lanterns for you to notice. Giving the pair of you the meticulously laid out plan, Kaz offered a tight nod before watching you disappear into the crowd of pigeons, and out into the cool breeze infiltrating Ketterdam’s night air.  

A pair of eyes lingered on your back, until you were far enough away that the raucous customers drowned out your angelic laugh, riding high above the crowd and penetrating the heart of the man you had just turned from. Clutching his cane fiercely, Kaz pushed all thoughts of you aside, burying deep the anxiety rising into his throat, and limping swiftly back up to his office.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

“Come on Y/N, we’re early anyway. Surely a tiny drink won’t hurt, I mean Kaz isn’t,” Jesper started playfully, but you cut him off with a look that could only be replicated with enough study of your boss’s face.

Jesper burst out laughing, infecting your chest with bubbles of joy, bursting out of you in a fit of giggles which set your partner off further. “Sorry Jes, Kaz’s orders. Plus, the sooner this is over, the more we can drink later,” you replied, your voice weakening at the end of the phrase as you suppressed a further attack of laughter.

Once the pair had battled through the biting conditions, gusts of wind cutting at their exposed skin like needles, the heist had run smoothly. Jesper successfully distracted the guards outside the small outlet, resorting to booming gunfire when even his charm had displayed no effect. You dissolved into the shadows, slipping through the doorway to the room that Kaz had suggested held the jewel, something, you supposed, worth far more than its underwhelmingly ragged appearance displayed.

The sound of guns clicking against their holsters alerted you, a shiver of anticipation creeping up your spine, however it dissipated as quickly as it came, once an outline of a ridiculously tall hat appeared on the floorboards. Within moments, Jesper joined you at the entrance of the room, eyes alight with adrenaline, practically buzzing next to you as his body twitched from the excitement of using his guns.

“Right then, lets go get this thing,” Jesper stated dramatically before striding forward with determined steps. Yet the strangled warning and the missed grasp on his wrist came too late, as a floorboard shifted under the sharp-shooter’s weight, concealing the entrance and your only chance of escape.

A soft light emanated from a half-burnt candle on the other side of the cage they now stood in, yet it was enough to catch a flash of regret seize Jesper’s face as he turned towards you.

“Uhmm, I’m guessing that wasn’t supposed to happen, right?” Jesper said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the trap he had triggered. A sigh escaped you, the previous joy from the early evening seeping from you fast, replaced with ice flooding your veins, heart hammering savagely against your chest. As you formulated a response to both calm you down, and relieve Jesper, a hissing sound disrupted the thickening silence.

The sound multiplied, surrounding the pair as they frantically searched for the source of the noise, like as snake threatening its victim before injecting its most lethal venom into its prey. Before the analogy of the snake could panic you further, something caught your eye, forcing you to strain your sight to make out the red shape slithering around on the floorboards. The candle flickered and dimmed, leaving the lightest of red glistens to illuminate the room.

“Jesper,” you choked out, finally comprehending what shape inching towards you was. Yet there was no need for a reply, as a sharp scent infiltrated your nostrils, forcing you to cough violently as the smoke burned your lungs, ripping apart your flesh from the inside out.

Jesper was forcing your name through his lips as he staggered towards you, gripping you tightly in his embrace as his lungs constricted. The pair crashed to the floor as each limb felt severed from the rest, the flickering candle now smothered by the red smoke.

Black filled both crow’s visions, as the gloom consumed them, relieving the burning sensation as their lungs gave out.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

There were truly very few things that could render Kaz Brekker speechless, however the sight of his two closest companions lying lifeless and frigid had utterly shattered him. Inej had shadowed the pair on their mission, under the command of their boss. “Just in case,” he had said to the wraith, but it was evident to her that he was simply worried for the both of you.

The crash of the city clock startled Inej into panic, leading her to the room where she discovered the pair, limbs tangled together and Jesper’s arms encircling your frame.

Dragging both of your limp bodies to a dreg’s owned carriage, Inej rushed you back to the slat, praying frantically to every Saint she could think of. The only sense of relief keeping her sane was the faint breaths emitting from you occasionally.

Now, you were both encased in warmth, the thickest blankets the crows could locate wrapping you up as you laid unmoving on makeshift beds in Kaz’s office. Nina insisted on you being together, allowing her to monitor your heart rates efficiently, the dread that your breathing could cease momentarily consuming the crows.

Wylan sat unmoving from Jesper’s side, constantly tending to him, bringing cool cloths to reduce his fever, or forcing sips of water down his throat, anxiety ripping into him each time he was made to leave.

The boy sat curled up next to his boyfriend, barely speaking apart from breathy rasps of thanks to Nina and Inej for food, or the occasional whispers to Jesper. It was unmistakeable from the minute Inej revealed your unconscious bodies that you had been poisoned, thrusting you into a border between life and death.

Kaz’s reaction differed vastly from the rest of his crows, his initial thoughts not moving to sadness, or worry for your conditions. All he could see was Jordie’s dead body, frigid and ashen, the feel of his clammy skin slipping underneath the fingertips of the younger Rietveld brother. The waves signalled no warning, violently crushing the air from Kaz’s lungs, forcing him to stagger blindly out into the alley behind the slat.

From that moment onwards, Kaz refused to see you. Not out of spite, or callousness, but simply because he couldn’t face it. Perhaps if it were only Jesper, he could summon the courage to venture into his office, maybe even remain for longer than a minute. But you?

It would kill him to see you in that sate again.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Sleep drastically evaded Kaz, the lack of your warm presence during the early hours caused the bastard’s mind to saturate his thoughts with every shade of terror.

Images of your lifeless body crossed over with his brother’s, the picture burning into his eyelids each time he closed his eyes. Since that night, almost a week ago by now, Kaz had not slept more than an hour at a time, and his presence had not been noted once by any of the other crows.

They tried desperately to construct a solution to the venom flowing through your veins, trying the most expensive of doctors, a team of Grisha healers, even antidotes concocted in the slat’s kitchen, yet nothing woke you. Each day unnerved the crows further, the chilling stillness of your bodies showing no sign of regeneration. The lack of activity settling a deeply rooted static into the crows lives.

That was, until Inej burst into his office to break to him the news.

Snatching his cane, Kaz bolted past her, forcefully striking the floor with each heavy step he took as he ascended the stairs. Crashing through the door, Kaz swiftly wove his way past your bed, eyes locked only on Jesper, the sight of your body in his nightmares plaguing him so torturously that he could not bear to even glance at you. As he shouldered past a gaping Nina, the sight before him confirmed the heart-wrenching cries from Wylan, the boy sobbing uncontrollably, his fists grasping at the material on his partners shirt.

Kaz’s gaze lifted to his crow’s eyes, his heart hammering in his ears when a mischievous pair glinted back at him, a weak but lopsided grin painted onto the sharpshooter’s face at the evident concern seizing Kaz’s features. The relief was short lived however, as his veins froze over, the stillness of your body flooding his mind once again with overwhelming anxiety.

“How,” was all Kaz could breathe out, voice low and throaty as emotion took hold of him.

“Whilst Inej and I were downstairs fetching new sheets for them, Wylan stayed up here. He decided at some point he needed some air, so he gave Jesper a kiss before going. But it seemed to have woken him up, and, well, here he is?” Nina offered, the weeps still wracking Wylan, words unable to creep out through the tears that submerged him.

The information buzzed through the air, sinking slowly into Kaz’s consciousness, before his heart plummeted.

The expectant gazes of the others stabbed at him, each knowing glance wrenching at his heart.

What were they all looking at? Surely, they didn’t expect him to be the one to save you?  What sort of fool would reciprocate feelings for the ‘bastard of the barrel’? Thousands of questions swarmed Kaz, constricting his lungs once more, as he exited the room as quickly as he had entered.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Days had passed without a single interaction between the crows and their boss, no matter the begging they resorted to outside his door. Each sob, scream, or plead was met with a resounding silence, resulting in a chilling slash to their resolve.

Reality had escaped Kaz, his conscious and unconscious hours blurring into one, the chill of Ketterdam infiltrating his body, worsening the horrors that taunted him. Everything he touched became the decaying of rotting flesh, each shadow a haunting figure bearing either yours or his brothers features. At some points, Kaz could muster the strength to imagine something else, something he had pictured frequently even before the mission had failed.

Your eyes glowing from the gentle moonlight glistening through the window, lips slightly parted as your breath quickens at the proximity. Warmth enveloping the pair of you as Kaz reaches down to caress your cheeks, the heat radiating from them enough to seep through his gloves.

He leans into you, the waves calming at your presence, receding until they gently lapped at his feet. Your lips meet and streams of love radiate between the two of you, creating the only peace Kaz has felt since the fire-pox had plagued the city and stolen his family from him.

However, each vision of you was cut short just as he was finally kissing you, your eyes would gloss over, and your lifeless body would be pressed directly against his. Panic attacks always ensued, but Kaz was unsure of how long this could continue for. His body was weakening with lack of use, bones weighing him down with every movement.

By now the others were gathering downstairs to eat dinner, the sound of Jesper’s laugh signaling his recovery was flowing smoothly. Before his mind could register his bodies actions, he hauled himself up, grabbed his cane, and discreetly made his way up to his office.

To see you.

Every nerve in his body set alight at the sight of you, frozen in time as your chest barely rose with each shallow breath. Yet Kaz pushed through the terror threatening to root him to the floor, forcing himself to pull a chair close to you, knuckles whitening as he clutched his cane to ground himself.

When you didn’t start morphing into Jordie, his mind declared that it was safe enough to remain where he was, albeit on the very edge of his seat, waves smashing into his chest with each breath.

In order to stay with you, he needed to focus on the signs that you were at least somewhat there. Scanning your body, he fixated on the whisps of air escaping your parted lips, the rise and fall of the blankets which engulfed you, the tint on your cheeks from the fire glowing nearby.

You were alive, and it was enough reason for Kaz to stay.

For a long while, he sat silently, an undecipherable gaze glued to your form, thoughts racing through his mind but his body frozen. It was evident enough that the crows thought he could be the one to wake you up, in the same way Wylan had done for Jesper. The thought alone made Kaz outwardly scoff, not only was the idea of a ‘fairy-tale’ kiss as the sole remedy absurd, but the fact they believed you could love him enough for it to work.

Yes, you spent hours helping him through mountains of paperwork, bringing him sustenance when forgets to eat, clearing up his room when he is too engrossed in his work to notice, or even keeping him company with a book so he can rest peacefully. But you were kind, too kind for the Barrels harsh realities he thought, although it only rarely stole your spark. Your extra care for Kaz was likely due to concern, how could it be out of anything like love?

The evening drew closer, light fading as twilight enshrouded the city, the chatter from downstairs becoming quieter as the group parted ways to rest. Knowing his time was running out, Kaz Brekker did something he never thought he could.

Kaz Brekker lent down and kissed you.

Immediately sparks ignited within him, lighting him on fire in a way he had never experienced before, however the flames were extinguished quickly, as the freezing waves crashed against him.

They rose exceedingly swiftly, signaling him to retreat into his isolation, awkwardly stumbling out of the office and slamming the door to his room, body shaking violently at the action he had accomplished.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The moment the door to his office shut, your eyes fluttered open, light scorching them from lack of use, head throbbing but the sensation of being conscious offering you some relief. Your lips tingled, a phantom feeling of something brushing against them consuming your thoughts.

Although you were slipping from the waking world constantly, the sight of your weeping friends and their grateful smiles in the intervals where you awoke granted you enough strength to recover quickly.

One face was unsurprisingly absent throughout your healing, the cold façade of the boss only gracing you once the others were gone, keeping you company in a strange but not unwelcomed silence. With each day you regained your radiant energy, even walking short distances with the aid of Kaz’s cane.

Once you had fully returned, you grew curious as to how you had awoken, startled at the revelation that Wylan saved Jesper with his love. There was no way the person you held affections for would ever do the same.

Could he?

Throwing a sly grin towards you, Nina stated, “Well we don’t truly know what brought you back, but I did catch a certain gang leader looking ever so shaky as he fled from the room. It just so happened that when I saw you next you were awake. What an odd thing,” using a dramatically exasperated tone, the mischievous spark in her eye confirming your suspicions.

Turning every shade of red, you buried your face in your hands, only peeking out from a small gap between your fingers. Just as a compass finds its bearings, your gaze gravitated straight towards Kaz.

As you peered up, you noticed he was positioned directly opposite on the far side of the Crow club, noting the pink tint that dusted his cheeks, just illuminated enough for you to catch. His gaze was unreadable but uncommonly gentle, and moments passed before you recognised what he was staring at.

He was fixated on you

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Kaz Brekker taglist: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @swhisperer @sleepynightchild @atlasiiae @kaiinohh @sannunah28 @at-the-chateau @withbeautyandragendrage @animalistic00 @whos6claire @any-corrie (please comment if you would like to be added to the Kaz Brekker taglist)

[project-sekai-facts]

The 2DMV for Twilight Light contains various references to previous 25-ji, Nightcord de. media, as well as lots of imagery connecting to the members.

To begin with, each member is associated with an object or two that which appears frequently in the background of the 2DMV.

"of the box that gently resounds"

Kanade's item is a music box, a nod to the music box her father made for her mother. This music box played a significant role in Kanade's first unit event, Carnation Recollection, helping her to realise why her songs weren't reaching Mafuyu.

"of the sealed up cocoon"

Mafuyu's items are a birdcage and chains. This is likely a reference to the marionette doll from Mafuyu's first event, Captive Marionette, that was kept in a similar-looking cage. This doll was what started Mafuyu's arc of rediscovering her true self and realising her mother was hurting her, which culmintated in N25's second arc ender.

The lyric that accompanies this is likely a reference to Kanade's trained Determination Ignited 4* card, which contains a purple butterfly (representing Mafuyu) locked in a glass lantern.

"Inside of the picture frame that keeps chasing"

Ena's items are a picture frame and a tin of paint. The tin of paint is likely a nod to the Unsatisfied Pale Color event and Ena's trained I Don't Want to Give Up 4* card. The picture frame is a reference to the Portray Yourself set that accompanied Ena's 3rd unit event, Someday, This Wish Will Transcend the Morning Sky.

"Inside of the abandoned mirror"

Mizuki's items are a mirror and ribbons. This is a reference to the IDSMILE 2DMV, the 2DMV for Mizuki's first unit event. Both that song and Twilight Light were produced by toa.

Because of the shared producer, there are also some similar lyrics in both songs, such as "The boundaries have begun to blur, the future uncertain" from IDSMILE, and "The boundary lines where disharmonies resound with each other" from Twilight Light.

There are also a few references to N25's second arc ender, Saying Goodbye to My Masked Self, most notably there being a glitch effect when Miku sings the lines "I still can't hear you, not yet" and "I still can't see you, not yet". When she appears on a phone screen in the second chorus during the line "I'm right here", she also appears glitched. In the event, Mafuyu's phone was damaged, causing the Virtual Singers to appear glitched when their holograms appeared. Miku couldn't contact Mafuyu for a while before the phone was able to turn on again, hence the lyrics.

Miku projecting out of the phone is also a nod to how she usually manifests herself to Mafuyu.

These images appear over the following lyrics:

The melodies that we create, The words that we pull in, The colors that intertwine together, And the scenes that are stitched together,

Once again they contain the items associated with the members in this MV, but the lyrics and on-screen text reference the members' respective roles within N25: composer, lyricist, artist, and editor.

Before the final chorus, the members of N25 are shown with picture frames behind them, another reference to the Portray Yourself set.

This part of the song contains multiple other references too, including:

The heart-shaped apple gem that originated as a charm on the costumes from the Snow White in Oblivion set, and later appeared as it does in this MV in some of the cards from the Where is ♡? set. Ena's card from the latter set also contains the birdcage associated with Mafuyu in this MV.

The apple is significant to Mafuyu as it was the food her mother would feed her when she was sick as a child. It was this care her mother showed her that caused her to want to become a nurse, the very dream her mother shattered. Those apples might also be Mafuyu's favorite food.

The blue butterflies that appear during this part and also at the start of the final chorus, which are a reference to the Samsa single jacket, and the Poisonous Fangs and Peeking Shadows set which had butterflies as a motif, particularly noticeable in Kanade's Determination Ignited 4* shown earlier in this post.

The phone underwater, which is actually a reference to three things. Firstly, this is a direct callback to the in-game jacket for Lower, Mizuki's second event commission.

However the phone falling in the water also links to a plot point from Saying Goodbye to My Maked Self, when Mafuyu's phone fell in her fishtank during a fight with her mother.

The throbber (loading wheel) on the screen is possibly a reference to the arc ender animation that plays after chapter 8 of the aforementioned event, which can be further backed up by the "Chasing your light, at 25:00" text that appears during that animation appearing in the 2DMV about 15 seconds after the phone is shown.

This part of the MV being underwater also connects to the Searching for a Reflection Beneath the Waters event, which introduced a lake to the Empty SEKAI.

The Heart in Water set from that event takes place underwater because of the new location, which in turn might be a nod to Mafuyu's trained Dive Into Me 4* fes card.

[luvendiary]

of moons and gowns / r. lupin

remus lupin x reader; royal!au

part 1

a/n: here´s part 2!!!! this is the end of this specific storyline, but if you're interested in deeing specific scenarios in this au, send in a request! i hope you enjoy this! i had a lot of fun writing.

tw: mentions of abuse and torture.

summary: the life of a servant in the palace was hectic. the life of a servant in the palace who so happened to get along with the princes, was even more so.

In the days that followed your encounter with Prince Remus in the palace corridors, life took an unexpected turn. The upcoming royal ball was now tinged with the prospect of attending as Prince Remus's guest. You tried not to dwell on it however, as you knew it was probably an attempt to get on your nerves or play a light joke on you as James and Sirius often did. 

Still, not much energy was left to dwell on the invitation as the palace was a hive of activity and you were at the center of it. Chores multiplied, and you found yourself engulfed in a whirlwind of tasks, leaving little room for leisure or the company of your royal friends.

The days blended together in a blur of scrubbing, polishing, and arranging, all under the watchful eyes of strict supervisors ensuring perfection for the impending event.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace grounds, you finally trudged back to your modest chambers. Your limbs ached, and weariness clung to every step, but the promise of rest spurred you forward.

Upon entering your room the crowd of maids gathered near one of the beds caught your attention. And as you started to unpin your hair you approached them.

“What are you lot staring at?”

Your presence took them by surprise, as they all rapidly turned their heads toward you with huge grins. 

“You may not want to settle down just yet”, Lucy said with a mischievous tone,

You raised an eyebrow as you realized they were all huddled around your bed, and that there was something laying on top. 

“It looks like you’ve caught the attention of yet another prince”, she said as you inspected the beautiful blue, silk dress that had been left extended neatly on your bed.  

Your mind was racing at a thousand miles per minute as you reached for the small piece of paper that sat neatly next to the dress. 

You opened it and felt as the rest of the girls peered over your shoulder. 

In the chaos of these hectic days, I thought a respite might be in order. Please consider this an invitation (rather than a command) to join me for dinner. I promise not to bore you with tedious tales of courtly affairs or James and Sirius’ latest plan (unless, of course, you insist).

I’ll wait for you at the gardens at 8.

Yours sincerely,

Remus

You could feel your cheeks warm up. Dinner with Remus Lupin had been the furthest thing from your mind when you started your day of chores. Yet, as you slipped into the dress laid out on your bed and your hair was once again tamed into soft waves by your fellow maids, you couldn't suppress the flutter of excitement in your chest. 

The evening air was crisp and scented with the fragrance of blooming flowers as you strolled through the garden. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the way, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone walkways. 

You fiddled with your fingers as you made your way towards the center of the garden where you found a picnic set up, and sitting on a nearby stone bench was Prince Remus with a book in his hand. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. A picnic seemed almost too mundane for a prince. But in a strange way it made you feel comforted. You would rather have this than a big elaborate dinner.

As if on cue, Remus seemed to notice you. He closed his book and set it down quickly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose white shirt underneath a blue waistcoat along with some trousers and boots. He looked terribly handsome. 

“There you are”, he said as he approached you with a gentle smile. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come”.

You said nothing and offered him a sheepish smile instead. You still weren’t sure how you were supposed to behave with him.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he offered you a hand, which you took and allowed yourself to be led to the blanket laid out on the ground.

“Thank you, your majesty. I must say that I’ve never worn a dress like this”, you replied. “Besides, if I may be so bold, you look rather dashing yourself”.

He sat next to you and smiled. “Please, just call me Remus”.

You remained quiet for a second before daring to look up at him with the smallest of smirks. “Is that an order?”

He bit his tongue, trying to suppress the smile that crept onto his face, but failing. “It’s a request.” 

“As you wish then…Remus,” you said as you tried to suppress a teasing smile of your own.

With that settled, a satisfied Remus reached out for the basket as he began unpacking.

You sat down along with him; your flowy dress falling around you. 

"I hope you like strawberry tarts," Remus said, holding one out to you on a small plate. "They're my favorite."

You accepted the tart graciously, taking a small bite and savoring the burst of flavor. "They're delicious," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Remus smiled warmly, pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you think so. I had to ask Euphemia for her recipe. But, I must admit, I had a bit of help from the palace chefs. They insisted after seeing me covered in flour."

His revelation made you laugh. It was endearing to think about the crown prince of Crescenwatch flustered in the kitchen while covered in flour.

“While I do appreciate the intention, next time let me stick to the baking”, you said amidst a fit of giggles.

He lowered his head slightly and with a soft smirk peered over his lashes. “So there will be a next time?”

You worried at your lip and stared at him contemplatively. “That’s not really up to me”, you replied with a soft smile while raising your eyebrows.

He made a soft sound of understanding before changing the topic once again. The conversation flowed effortlessly as both of you made your way through the food Remus had prepared, and exchanged stories about your respective days. His down-to-earth demeanor put you at ease. In no time you were as comfortable with him as you were with James or Sirius. And as the night passed, you found yourself laughing freely at Remus's witty remarks. The initial awkwardness between you, now gone. 

Remus joined in on your laughter, and he tried to suppress the pride he relished in whenever he managed to make you smile and giggle. Still, the twinkle in his eyes was not easily hidden.

The sound of chirping birds brought you back to reality after a long while. It was then that you realized that you had spent all night out with Remus. What was supposed to be a small dinner, had turned into a full evening with the prince. 

You looked at him, lying down on his side, supported by his elbow as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but laugh with slight delirium. The lack of sleep had started to get to you, and the situation you were in (which in normal circumstances would have frustrated you with the thoughts of the day ahead), humored you. 

He seemed to share your amusement as he laughed along with you. 

“I have to get going,” you said finally as you stood up and patted down your wrinkled dress.

Remus hurriedly stood up. He tried to fix himself up, his waistcoat had long been discarded and his white shirt had been untucked.”Let me walk you back”.

You smiled as you slipped your slippers back on. “That’s alright my prince. You don’t need to do that.”

Remus tilted his head and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you’re going back to formalities now. Besides, I insist”.

You chuckled. “Sorry, force of habit. If it makes you feel better, I still call James and Sirius by their titles sometimes”.

He chuckled. “But I’m not Sirius, or James, am I?”, he said, trying to get you to look at him.

Your cheeks warmed up. And in your flustered state, you could not muster up a witty answer. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, making you feel all tingly inside. 

He seemed to relish in this small victory. Whilst in your flustered state, he offered you his arm, which you took, and with the picnic basket in his other hand, he walked you back to your chambers.

The path to your chambers had seemed to become shorter than you remembered it. On a usual day, they seemed to be impossibly far from where you needed them, but as of right now, they couldn’t have been far enough. 

“I had a great night, thank you for inviting me,” you said as you stared up at him.

“Thank you for coming,” he replied.

A brief moment of silence passed between the two of you , trying to make this moment linger as long as possible. Still, you knew it couldn’t. 

“I should…go…” you breathed out with a sad smile. You turned to open the door and walked in with one final smile. However the calling of your name made you stop in your tracks.

“I…I just-”, it was the first time you had seen Remus this nervous. His usual calm and composed demeanor was what you’ve grown accustomed to, and to a certain extent, it seemed weird for a prince like him to become this speechless, especially with a servant such as yourself. 

“I don’t mind being called a prince…”, a small pause. “Your prince.”

A smile broke out through your features, it seemed that you couldn’t stop yourself when you were around him. You stood on your tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening, my prince”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked into your chambers.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, your dream-like evening had to remain on the back of your mind the next few days. With the ball approaching, the bustling around the palace had increased. Young yourself running around more than usual, so much so that you barely had any time left for meals or even alone time. You were currently occupied with the flower arrangements in the main ballroom. A calming chore like this was a nice change  of pace from the usual, more strenuous things you had to attend to. 

You were lost in your thoughts as your fingers danced along the stems of various sorts of flowers.  Either cutting leaves or thorns. Despite the enjoyment of preparing the flower arrangements, you had to make them with certain speed and agility, which is why various small cuts littered your hands.

“Ah, here she is,” a voice echoed through the room, followed by the sound of tumultuous footsteps.

“Good morning Sirius”, you said without taking your eyes off of your task. “Good morning James”.

“And a good morning to you too!” James yelled back, as if he was saying something threatening.

“Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Yes actually,” said Sirius. “You can start by telling us what enchantment you have placed on our Moony”.

You chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe this will ring a bell. Tall, charming, handsome, dorky man with a lovesick smile that was previously not there?” James said as he peeked over your shoulder looking at the arrangement of flowers.

“He is quite handsome”.

“Yes well, we all know that already. What we want to know is why is he acting like a teenager all of a sudden?” Sirius pressed.

“He is?”

“Well, if talking all day long about the pretty girl he asked to ball, and how he loves how she rebukes every flirty commentary he throws at her isn’t acting like a lovesick teenager, I don’t know what is”, James replied.

“He thinks I’m pretty?”

Sirius sighed in exasperation. “They’re both hopeless”.

“Yes yes, you’re pretty, I’m impossibly charming,” James jumped in. “Setting the obvious aside. Will you tell us what has been going on between the two of you?”

With a nervous smile you finished with the arrangement and finally turned to face them. You realized that this was uncharted territory for you. Sure, your friendship with the princes was very close and you could tell each other almost everything (they surely took advantage of that). However, you had never talked about other boys with them.

With trembling hands you lowered your gaze and twisted your fingers before supplying them with the answer they had been bugging you about. “We sort of went on a date. At least, that’s what I think it was”.

Silence.

And then raucous, ear-splitting screams of what you hoped was joy. 

James was jumping up and down while Sirius ran his hands through his hair and paced around.

“And?” James said with a huge grin as he approached you like a madman.

“And what?”

“And how did it go?”

With a grin of your own, you explained how your date had gone. However, you kept the specifics to yourself, relishing in those hidden moments that no one had  been witness to. 

As you spoke of your date with the prince, you couldn't help but notice the eager anticipation in James's eyes and the barely contained excitement in Sirius's demeanor. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but you knew better than to let it sway you. After all, you were just a servant, and the idea of something more with someone like Remus was not in the cards for you.

“So you’re coming right?” James asked. You could practically see the cogs working in his brain.

“What do you mean?”

“To the ball, of course”,Sirius replied.

Your heart sank. The prospect of attending such an event seemed like a cruel joke, a reminder of the gaping divide between your world and theirs. You knew they meant well. They often ignored the blatant divide between you, how scandalous it would be for someone like you to be seen with someone like them in an event of that magnitude. Their words were a painful reminder of the barriers that stood between you.

You looked at them with a sad smile. “You know I can’t. For all I know that night was a one time thing. I’m a servant, we don’t get to mingle amongst royalty”.

As Sirius's expression soured and he began to voice his objections, you felt a pang of frustration building within you. Him out of all people should understand. His anger only served to fuel your own, and before you could stop yourself, you interrupted him, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Please don't," you pleaded, your words a whispered plea. "I've made my peace with it. It's been hard enough."

With a heavy heart, you gathered the discarded stems and leaves in your basket, your movements automatic as you sought solace in the familiar routine of your duties.

Leaving behind a perplexed James and an angry Sirius, you made your escape, the weight of your conflicting emotions pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. As you walked away, the echoes of their voices faded into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the ever-present reminder of your place amongst their world.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a couple days now since your small fight with the royals. You had been avoiding them -all of them. 

You had asked one of your fellow maids to take your turns in tending to their fireplace or taking the breakfast, in exchange for other duties. She had happily done so, despite her brief worry for what must have caused such a request.

You could not say that you did not miss your friends. Your life at the palace was made fun by their antics -even if they did stress you out sometimes-. But the thought of facing them, of being reminded of your place in the hierarchy, was enough to keep you away.

As the night of the ball arrived, you found yourself busy with other chores, anything to keep your mind off the lavish event taking place in the ballroom. You scrubbed floors, dusted shelves, and tended to the gardens, the rhythmic motions a comforting distraction from the festivities happening just a few corridors away. 

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t specifically requested to not attend the ball, and instead you had taken on double the amount of chores you usually did to compensate for that.

So, after a long day of work, you sought refuge at the library. A place you were sure no one would come in, especially not tonight, when everyone wanted to mingle amongst the princes. You, on the other hand, had decided that it was better for you if you maintained your distance. 

However, a certain chocolate-eyed man did not think so.

“You’re avoiding me”, a voice came from behind you, making you freeze in your steps. The pile of books on your hands seemed impossibly heavy now.

You remained in silence, hoping -praying-, he would leave. But luck was not on your side today.

“Why?” he continued. This time his voice was impossibly soft. Your heart sank, hearing the sadness it carried. 

You turned to face him then, and you thought that you could be strong enough to tell him the truth. But as you looked at him, you realized that you couldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at the  ball?”, you said in an effort to avoid the topic as you set down the pile of books and pretended to skim through one of them. “I’m sure there’s a lot of disappointed girls out there right now.”

“Maybe. But the one girl I’m interested in decided not to show up”.

You had to remind yourself that to him, you were probably just a fun time. Someone he might never see again. But to you…

“I’m certain that you have a bunch of beautiful girls lining up to take her place”, you replied.

If you weren't so busy trying to avoid his gaze, you might have noticed how his expression seemed to morph into that of disappointment. And quickly into one of frustration.

“I talked with James and Sirius”, he said. His voice is now much more sharp.

“Well, Sirius has a lot of experience in that department. James might not be that helpful, he’s pretty hung up on Princess Lily-”

“They told me that you had made ‘peace with it’”, he said, cutting sharply into your sentence as he took a step towards you. 

You faltered for a moment, before trying to hold on to the unbothered front you had been trying to put on. However, he didn’t give you time to recover.

“That you don’t get to ‘mingle with royalty’”, he continued as he approached you, making you take some steps back. “And that it was a ‘one time thing’”.

Your back hit a shelf, and before you knew it, Remus was looming over you. His hand reached for your book before setting it on a higher shelf. He then gently took a hold of your chin, and he forced you to look up at him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t tell me you actually believe that”.

You caught how his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Still, that wasn’t enough to stop the small burst of anger that bubbled up inside you. 

“You’re a smart prince,” you said, your words now had an edge to them. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of the repercussions this might have”.

“To hell with the repercussions-”

“That’s because you can afford to do that Remus!” you retaliated. He seemed surprised by your outburst, as he took the smallest of steps backward. “I’m a servant, and if they were to see us, do you know what they’ll say about me?” you continued as you jabbed your finger in his chest. 

“Do you have any idea how I was treated back on Blackhaven?” you debated for a moment if this was really worth telling, but you quickly decided that if he wanted to know about the repercussions, you would tell him about them.

“After enduring Orion’s punishments, befriending Sirius was the most wonderful thing that happened to me. But rumors started spreading on how I was his slut. On how I ‘kept him satisfied’ in exchange for protection!”

Remus kept silent. His hand held on your arm gently, trying to keep you close.

You slumped against bookshelves, and looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t like you had forgotten it. It plagued your nightmares. But it had been years since you had to purposefully remember the punishment that made Sirius decide to get you out of his kingdom.

“Orion found out,” you continued, this time your voice much softer. “So he decided that his normal branding wasn’t enough this time. He said that I would not taint his bloodline -that a servant would not ruin his bloodline.”

Remus’ eyes searched for yours, trying to find a hint that it wasn’t true. That somehow you got saved from being punished. He was familiar with the king’s punishments. He remembered a particular night in which Sirius had not been able to handle it anymore, and he broke down in James’ room.

“So he branded me in the usual place…and then on my hip. And then, he had me lashed…while Sirius watched.” 

You could feel how his fingers tightened around your wrist, but you avoided his eyes. In a brief moment he pulled on your wrist and dragged you to a dark corner of the library where he pulled on a book and a part of the wall popped open, revealing a small room the size of a maintenance closet. 

The sound of a click brought you back to reality. And the small warm light that followed it revealed that the ‘maintenance closet’ was not that at all, but rather a really small study. 

You sighed and turned to face him. He dragged you a few paces up until you were next to the desk. He took you by the waist and hoisted you upwards, so you were sitting on it, before prompting you to continue.

With a shaky breath you went on. 

“I tried not to make any noise for Sirius’ sake. But Orion decided that he wouldn’t be satisfied until I screamed my throat raw,” you had started untying your apron. “ So he didn’t stop, not even when I passed out. Sirius’ pleads and screams kept waking me up, until Orion got tired.”

Remus watched you carefully, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He could see the turmoil in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to speak, and his own words felt inadequate.

As you untied your apron, he noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled slightly. Without a word, he moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached out to help you.

His fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress, the gentle touch a silent reassurance of his presence. With practiced ease, he located the ribbons at the back of your dress, his touch feather-light as he began to untangle them. You tensed at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as the faint outline of the lash scars hidden beneath your dress were revealed. 

But he didn't look away. Instead, he continued to untie your dress, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed more and more of your scars to him. With each inch of exposed skin, his heart broke a little more, but he refused to let his own emotions show.

Finally, the ribbons completely untangled from your corset, and your dress hung loose around your shoulders, the scars on your back fully revealed to him. Remus felt a lump form in his throat as he took in the sight, the raw brutality of your old life laid bare before him.

But he didn't turn away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing the contours of your scars with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes. 

He had tried to avoid it at first, but the Blackhaven crest that was engraved into your skin screamed at him for attention. The crest was jagged and uneven, the lines distorted from where you had thrashed in pain during your punishment. It was a brutal symbol of the cruelty of the Blackhaven royals, and a mark that would forever brand you as a victim of their tyranny.

Remus felt a surge of anger rise within him as he looked upon the crest. You felt as his gentle fingers made its way up to it. His touch was feather-light as he traced the outline of the crest. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the scars rough and raised against his touch.

“That was what he was most proud of,” you said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you. “It made me his property. He tried to make the lash marks disappear later. He said they would just ruin a pretty thing. So they mostly healed. But I guess my body wasn’t able to erase that memory completely.”

More silence.

“The crest on my hip was a final gift. Something about how if I wanted to be a slut, people should know who I belong to. I woke up in the infirmary days later, to the news that Sirius had ‘gifted me’ to Noblehaven”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. But then, without a word, Remus leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to your back. And then another. And another. 

His lips moved reverently over the scars. As he trailed kisses along the jagged lines of the crest, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you—pain, sorrow, but also something else. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you felt his lips press against the scars. 

The contrast of the tender action amidst a place that had been ravaged by brutality and cruelty was devastating. 

His hands slowly snaked their way to your cheeks, and as they softly made you turn to look at him they wiped the tears that had escaped your eyes. Without a word, Remus pulled you into his arms, holding you close as though trying to shield you. 

“Be my queen,” he whispered tenderly, out of the blue. His pain-stricken eyes reaching for yours.

“Remus-”

“No harm will ever come to you”.

Your words caught in your throat as you gazed into his earnest eyes, the depth of emotion swirling within them almost overwhelming. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of his plea.

"Be my queen," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in the silence between you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Your breath hitched as you searched his gaze, seeing the raw sincerity etched in every line of his face. The weight of his request hung heavy in the air, the gravity of his words sinking deep.

"Remus..." you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm just a servant."

He whispered your name, but his gaze seemed to be undecided on whether it wanted to fixate on your eyes or your lips. “Please…” he begged as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your lips.

“Please,” he whispered again. This time the plea seemed to weigh so much more. 

Ever so slowly, you pressed your lips to his. 

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and you melted into his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, a silent plea for you to say yes, to choose him, to become his queen.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Remus' lips. “Is that a yes?”

You smiled up at him, and tilted your head slightly. “It depends. Was that a command?”

Remus chuckled and cupped your face with his hand as he pressed your lips to his once again. It was soft and desperate at the same time. So much longing in one single action.

“I think you know I’m in no place to give commands when it comes to you,” he whispered as he trailed his kisses up to your ear. 

Remus’ hands snaked in between your dress, softly caressing the scars on his way down. The piece of fabric now pulling at your waist.

“Say it,” he pleaded as he trailed kisses down your neck and back to your mouth. “Say you will.”

“I will,” you breathed out.

He pulled away slightly, admiring you for a second before wrapping his arms around you once again.

tags:

@lovelyygirl8

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

It Was Always You | Levi Week Day 7 - Royal!AU

ngl i did not have confidence that i would actually finish/get to writing this but i did hooray

#: @leviweek2023

✧ word count ➼ ~2.3k ✧ notes ➼ royalty!au, soulmates!au, forbidden love, fluff, princess!reader, knight!levi, slightly suggestive at the end but sfw overall

The walls of the castle were damp and gloomy. This wasn't new. It was old. It looked fine during the day when sunlight could light up the corridors and there were people roaming the halls to simulate the illusion of livelihood, but it was currently nighttime, which meant the only things lighting up the hallway were the dim lanterns hanging off the walls and the torch that your knight held behind you.

You didn't ask to be a princess. You didn't want it. You remembered you had gotten whisked away by some bandits a few years ago and found yourself thanking them for it. You ended up experiencing the world and found yourself having a good time traveling with them, learning about the unique struggles that commoners had that you were never exposed to, being forced to live within the depressing walls of the castle.

You glanced back towards your knight and felt a small hint of pride upon seeing his unamused expression. You had ran off outside the palace walls again into town. There was a small celebration and you were curious, so you put on some commoner-like clothes and snuck out. You had only arrived in town for about an hour before Levi found you and dragged you back home.

You sighed as you stepped into your quarters, slightly smirking once you heard Levi also step inside and shut the door behind him so you could talk more freely.

"Quit running off like that," he scolded, scowling at you.

"Really expect me to just be cooped up in this gloomy castle?" you asked dryly, rolling your eyes.

"Where you're safe? Yes."

You looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"Safe from what?! My own shadow?!"

The scowl and look of disapproval on his face was unwavering.

"Just doing my job, Your Highness."

You grimaced at him addressing you by your title. You were close enough with your personal knight that he usually just called you by your name. The only time he ever referred to you as a formal princess was when you were being bratty.

Seeing that you had no intention to leave again and given how late into the night it was, Levi began turning, opening up the door to leave your quarters. His duty was to drag your reckless ass back into the castle, and he had done exactly that.

"Wait," you blurted out before he could fully open the door.

He paused, not turning back towards you, but not making any further motion to leave either.

"Stay?" you asked.

He looked at you over his shoulder.

"It's late."

"Please?" you whispered as you stepped towards him. "Just for a bit."

He clenched his jaw, knowing that it wasn't going to be "just for a bit", but he went ahead and shut the door again.

You've known Levi for years at this point. You remembered getting taken away by some mercenaries a few years ago after you had foolishly left the castle on your own. Unlike the bandit group you hung out with, this group wanted to hold you for ransom, having been hired by an enemy nation.

Levi was quick to rescue you. It was precisely the fact that he was forced to have that experience of having to chase after you because of a casual misstep of yours that made him so pissed about the fact that you still left the castle at the first available opportunity. He couldn't rest for more than a few minutes without having to be worried that something had happened to you.

When Levi first started guarding you, he was nothing but irritating. However, as much as he irked you, you couldn't stop talking to him. You found yourself always going to his side whenever you saw him around. You got to know him, and he got to know the parts of you that no one else did. You got close, and eventually chose him as your personal knight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him. You knew that deep down, but you didn't want to admit it to yourself. It was too painful.

You were engaged to someone else.

Being a princess meant you had responsibilities, whether you liked them or not. You were due to be married off in a few months to some royal from Marley in a desperate attempt to maintain the rapidly deteriorating peace between Marley and Paradis.

"I can't bear being trapped within these walls," you hissed through clenched teeth. "Day in and day out, it's about Marley this and Marley that."

You paused from your rambling and scowled. The mention of recent politics reminded you of your very undesirable engagement.

"You don't want to marry him, do you?" Levi asked quietly, now leaning with his back against the door, listening to you.

You scoffed in response, as if you were astonished that he even had to ask the question.

"Of course not! Why would I?" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. "I'd lose what little freedom I have and just be drowned in politics and be reminded every day that I was-"

You paused mid-sentence to take a breath, getting more and more upset about the topic.

"-that I was essentially sold off for political value. It's bullshit, and I hate thinking about it because-"

You suddenly cut yourself off, glancing towards the ground, unsure if you should continue. You were getting more and more frustrated and you knew your only source of relief was something you weren't allowed to have.

"Because what?" Levi asked, although some part of him deep down knew what you were going to say.

"...because I'm in love with someone else," you whispered.

Levi slightly parted his lips as his body ever so subtly tensed up. While he wasn't surprised by the news that your heart had been taken by someone other than your political fiancé, he still found the words harsh as they came out of your mouth. He wasn't sure why he cared, but he had been your confidant through the years, so he undoubtedly cared about you in some regard.

"Yeah?"

His body further tensed and he shuffled in place a bit to adjust for the discomfort that was rapidly arising within him as you slowly walked towards him.

He was curious as to who it was. He had a feeling that he knew.

Like you, he has felt that unnatural pull towards you. He always told himself it was inappropriate, but anyone observing could see that he was gentler with you than he was with anyone else. He would spend hours listening to you and talking with you, even when he didn't have to, just so you didn't feel as lonely.

His only duty was to make sure you didn't run off and get yourself into trouble outside the palace walls, but he always stayed and listened, even providing you with advice from time to time.

As a result, he knew what you were about to say. He's felt it too. It's like the universe was trying to push you together despite how wrong it was.

Levi was always there for you. He's picked you up when you were down, both literally and figuratively. He was likely the only person in the entire castle that saw you as a person and not just a princess. The idea of leaving this palace and never seeing him again while pretending to be happy with another man hurt you in ways you couldn't describe.

You slowly walked right up to him, never taking your eyes off him. Once you were right in front of him, your hand raised up to his cheek and you let out a small exhale upon the skin-to-skin contact. Upon looking directly into his eyes, you could see that there was some sort of mutual understanding there.

"It's you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "It's always been you."

You couldn't deny that some part of you felt like you were meant for each other. It didn't feel like a case of accidental love. It felt like the universe was giving you all of the signs that you were meant to love him, and that the only thing keeping you apart were the politics that were shoved onto you the minute that you were born.

He let out an unsteady breath as he processed your words, desperately trying to keep himself from reacting to finally feeling your touch.

"Tell me the truth, Levi," you muttered, looking directly into his eyes. "Can you honestly say that you haven't felt this too?"

He immediately averted his gaze upon your question, trying to resist the feelings that were rapidly arising within him.

"Tell me."

He had always shoved those feelings away. He'd banish them to some dark corner of his mind, and he was successful for years, but now he couldn't keep those feelings from being at the forefront of his mind.

When he finally looked into your eyes again, you could see the turmoil and conflict within them. You knew the answer, even without him saying a word. A selfish part of him wanted to answer and tell you that he was in love with you too and that he could never keep you off his mind. He wanted to tell you that he felt like hell every time you ran off, being plagued with worry over if you were okay.

He wanted to tell you the absolutely sting that he felt in his heart when he heard the news that you were engaged to someone else.

It was wrong. It was selfish. You were already betrothed to another man, but the thought of being with someone else made you feel nothing but despair. However, this current moment, looking at the man right in front of you gave you a sense of hope and peace that you had never felt before.

It was always Levi.

You brushed the hair out of his eyes, with the flickering of the torch on the walls reflecting off his gray eyes that were gently gazing into yours.

It was selfish.

It was selfish, but you pulled him forward, and leaned in to gently plant your lips on his.

Feeling him on you made your heart want to jump out through your throat. It made you feel excited, but also nervous.

Levi took a subtle, but sharp inhale upon feeling your lips on his. He hesitated, knowing how wrong this was, but also knowing how right it felt.

He hesitated, but it wasn't long before he returned the kiss, his hand falling onto your waist.

What started off as a gentle, loving kiss quickly deepened into a more passionate one, with your own lips parting as you fully pressed your body up against him. His palm on your waist sent shivers throughout your body, and the more that you kissed him, the more that you realized just how badly you needed him this entire time.

You gently bit at his bottom lip, but before your hands could begin roaming elsewhere, you felt him suddenly pull away, breaking off the kiss and turning his head to the side.

"Shit," he whispered, breathing heavily. "We can't be doing this."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning towards him as he pulled away.

"You're a princess," he said sternly. "You're engaged, and I'm-"

"You're what?" you asked with a scowl, not letting him finish what probably would have been a self-deprecating statement. "'Just' a knight? The only person I can trust in this whole damn palace that cares about me and not just my title? The annoyingly overbearing knight that saved me all those years ago?"

You stared at him intensely as you spoke, refusing to accept his comment of not being allowed to be with you, although you knew that was the reality surrounding you.

"...The man I'd much rather marry," you continued, your voice dropping down to a whisper. "The love of my life? My soulmate?"

Levi remained quiet as you spoke. He felt it. He's always felt it, even when he didn't know it.

You knew that if you were with Levi, it'd cause nothing but trouble. Sleeping with him could even cost you your claim to the throne if you're caught, but a small, selfish part of you wanted that. You longed to live a normal life, and living that normal life with Levi was your definition of a happy ending. You couldn't care any less about your political power. You'd throw it all away in an instant without second thought.

Even the thought of being on the run with Levi sounded better than being forced to live the life that everyone around you expected you to live.

You pressed your forehead against his as you whispered again.

"If you asked me to run away with you, I would do so in a heartbeat."

He scoffed, but didn't pull away.

"You do plenty of running away already."

"I mean it, Levi," you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes again. "I'd run away for good. I'd gladly leave this place and never come back, especially if it meant that I could be with you."

You pulled him into another kiss before he could respond. This time, he didn't hesitate in returning that kiss, as the both of you quickly got lost within each other's touch and presence.

You were meant to be, and your relationship would cause nothing but trouble, but you knew that it'd be all worth it in the end if it meant that you could live that normal, mundane life with Levi Ackerman: your knight and love of your life—your soulmate.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @kokosmiles @mrsmiagreer @nixie-writes-aot join my taglist!

[c0la-queen]

Harrowing Night | Viktor x Reader

Okay, I know I promised a drabble, but I've spent hours elbow-deep in the muck of League of Legends lore trying to figure shit out that I completely lost the motivation to write something complicated. However, I still have Thoughts that I want to share with you all, so I will post them in the form of Cola's Ramblings.

So, the only Halloween equivalent event I could find was something called Harrowing, but I noticed halfway through my research that this event was actually part of the old lore and is no longer canon. However, I am Not A League Player so I'm simply choosing to Ignore This.

From what I could find, it seems like Harrowing was a Ionian event that was spread to Piltover and Zaun through the Ionian refugees. (Again, I don't know how accurate that is, don't get mad at me if you actually know the lore please)

In my opinion, even though this holiday started out as a day of fear and caution, Piltover - as Piltovans are wont to do - takes this concept and decides to polish it until it shines as golden as the city itself. Instead of hiding away in their homes in fear of the dark, they decided to keep the spirits away by having fun. So, every October 31st, the throw a festival in the city plaza. There's lanterns, food and hot drinks, games and activities, music, and, of course, costumes! And they call this new version of the holiday Harrowing Night.

Reader absolutely loves Harrowing Night. She and Jayce, as childhood best friends, spent every Harrowing Night together. When they were young, they'd slip away from their parents' grasps and run off hand-in-hand to scope out what that year's festival had.

This excitement didn't fade away as they got older.

So, when October came around this year, your excitement steadily grew. You spent all month discussing costume ideas, trying to settle on the perfect one.

Then, the fated night arrived. As soon as you were done helping the boys out at the lab, you raced home to your apartment to get ready. As the sun sank below the city line and the sky turned from red-orange to inky indigo, you couldn't help but pace nervously. Jayce was 30 minutes late to pick you up. Where was he? Was he okay?

When you heard a knock on your door, that dwindling excitement built back up. You raced to the door as fast as you could, throwing it open and starting to berate Jayce for being so tardy -

...when you noticed that it wasn't Jayce. At all. It was Viktor, wearing comfy clothes and looking like he had just rushed over to your apartment last minute. (Had you ever seen Viktor in anything other than his Academy uniform?)

Viktor was having a hard time forming a coherent sentence. He had come over to your apartment in order to bounce some ideas for HexTech off you - something he'd started doing at your daily lunches together, something that he found helped him process his thoughts better. He would say this, but how could he say anything when you were standing there, looking even more beautiful than you already were? The costume you had chosen this year was an angel costume. You were wearing a knee length dress with your arms completely exposed - far too exposed for how cold it was outside at this hour - feathered wings with gold embellishments, and a matching halo headband. You'd done your makeup, something you didn't do often, and the glittery golden eye shadow really made your eyes pop. For the first time in Viktor's life, he was speechless. You were... ethereal.

He was broken out of his stupor when he heard that you were waiting on Jayce. Jayce? Ignoring the little pang of jealousy he felt (he hated it. You and Jayce had grown up together, and he was the newest addition to your lives. Of course you preferred Jayce over him.), Viktor was perplexed. You're waiting on Jayce? He asked. Jayce and Mel left for the festival an hour ago.

He hated how heartbroken you looked as that information set in. Viktor quickly realized what was happening. Jayce had ghosted you and taken Mel to the Harrowing Night festival without telling you. A hot flash of anger burned through Viktor.

In Zaun, Harrowing Night wasn't exactly celebrated. Plenty of Zaunites believed in it, but there was no grandeur to it. It was a quiet night where families placed jack-o-laterns and other wards in their windows and doorsteps in order to protect their homes from the spirits wandering about.

But Viktor knew that this night was important to you. You'd been rambling about it to him all week, telling him stories of the shenanigans you and Jayce would always get up to during the festivals throughout the years. You always had that sparkle in your eyes that he so adored.

The fact that Jayce, your best friend, did this to you? It infuriated Viktor. He thought that Jayce knew you best - a thought that had made Viktor bitter several times before - but he was quickly realizing that either Jayce didn't know anything about you or he just didn't care.

You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve to be sitting in your apartment on your favorite night of the year, trying to hold back tears to keep yourself from messing up your makeup.

Viktor wanted to fix it. He was an inventor at heart. He took things that were broken or damaged and rewired them, restored them, and made sure they worked again. He was going to make sure he succeeded with you, too.

So, Viktor tells you that he'll take you to the festival instead. He may not be as passionate about Harrowing Night as you are, but he's passionate about you. Er... about your happiness. If that means biting his tongue and going to an overrated Piltie festival with you? Dammit, that's what he was going to do.

He even put on the stupid devil horn headband that you had bought for Jayce, that way you two were in matching costumes.

Viktor had to admit... the festival was pretty neat. While the music was a little too loud, he enjoyed the hot spiced cider that he had been sipping on while walking around the plaza. There were people in costumes everywhere. Little kids, parents, couples, and friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and apples.

But most of all, Viktor enjoyed your excitement. It was like he was getting a glimpse of your younger self, coming back out of hiding to partake in the nostalgia and joy. The warm lights of the lanterns made your skin practically glow and reflected in your eyes. You'd gotten several compliments on your costume, compliments you gave back with fervor to the other costumes you saw. It didn't bother Viktor as much as he expected it to - you'd worked hard on your costume, you deserved the recognition. Besides, how could he complain when you were hugging his arm as you two walked, your warm chest pressed to his forearm as you nibbled on the funnel cake fries you'd picked up.

Yes, you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. Until about an hour in, when you'd turned a corner and spotted a little crowd gathered around a particular booth. At the center of the crowd, soaking in the attention, were Jayce and Mel. They were wearing matching costumes - your matching costumes. Jayce had taken the concept you'd come up with for you and him and decided to use it with Mel. Even more heartbreaking, Mel's costume was much more breathtaking than yours. Her wings were bigger, her dress was more beautiful, and her golden makeup and jewelry shined brighter than yours. She looked like a goddess.

Viktor wanted nothing more than to beat Jayce over the head with his cane. He knew Jayce could be a bit thick sometimes, but this crossed the line into self-centered asshole territory. Unfortunately, he had to ignore that murderous rage in order to focus on you fully. With a "Let's go" whispered lowly in your ear, he nudged you away from the crowd and away from the festival. He had an inkling that you wouldn't be able to enjoy the festival anymore tonight, and his leg was starting to ache. It was time to go home.

Still... he couldn't stand how dejected you looked as you sat on your couch, unstrapping your wings. The night was still young and he had nothing else to do that weekend, so he - quite demandingly - ushered you off to your bedroom to get comfortable. In the meantime, he set up the living room with blankets and a few snacks and drinks from your kitchen. He even dimmed the lights and lit an autumn scented candle he found on your coffee table.

That's when you returned, dressed in warm, comfortable pajamas. Hair loose, makeup wiped off. The setup made you smile, looking at Viktor with a grateful expression. He could see the faint redness to your eyes. His job wasn't quite done.

You two spend the rest of the night tangled together on your couch, draped in blankets, watching different seasonal movies. You rested your head against Viktor's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and you smiled. Maybe this Harrowing Night wasn't so bad.

As the credits of the third movie you watched rolled, Viktor noticed you'd fallen silent. He glanced down, blinking in surprise when he realized that you'd fallen asleep against him. As your chest rose and fell with your steady breathing, Viktor smiled. Maybe he could learn to love Harrowing Night.

[keehomania]

under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part two, part one can be found here

✧.* 18+

the moment you bolted from the palace, the weight of what had just transpired pressed heavily on your chest, propelling your legs to move faster. your breath came in ragged gasps as you dashed through the corridors and out into the open, the grandiose walls of the palace growing smaller in the distance. each step you took felt like a desperate plea to escape the nightmare that was now your reality. the announcement that king taejo intended to make you his wife had echoed in your mind like a cruel taunt, and you could hardly breathe under the suffocating thought.

as the grand gates of the palace loomed ahead, your legs burned with exhaustion, but you couldn't stop. you wouldn't stop. not until you reached hansol. not until you found safety. the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the throne room as possible. the cool night air stung your lungs, the world around you a blur of shadow and dim lantern light as you sprinted through the palace grounds.

news of the marriage swept through the palace like wildfire, sparking outrage, disbelief, and determination in equal measure among the princes. hansol was the first to react, eyes wide with shock as he blurted out, “is it true? this can’t be happening.” his voice wavered with a mix of denial and fear, the thought of you being taken away by the king unbearable to him.

baekhyun, his eyes distraught and panicked, whined, “there must be a mistake! something has to be done!” his usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by genuine concern. daniel furrowed his brows, his expression darkening with anger. “we need to act,” he muttered, his voice low but resolute. “we can’t just stand by and let this happen.”

across the room, chaehee let out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “this is none of our concern,” he sneered, dismissing the growing tension among his brothers. his words were like a slap to the face, cold and unfeeling. but before anyone could react, hansol snapped, “shut up, chaehee,” the force of his words stunned everyone into silence. even chaehee himself was left speechless, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother with newfound wariness.

hansol, breathing heavily, looked around at his brothers, his eyes burning with determination. “we’re going to save her,” he declared, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “no matter what it takes.” the room was still, the air thick with the weight of his words. one by one, the other princes nodded, their resolve hardening. they had made their decision. they would not let the king have his way. not this time.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the urgency in your every movement. you couldn’t let this happen. you couldn’t let king taejo take you, bind you to him in a way that would forever benefit him, yet imprison you. as you ran, a silent prayer formed on your lips, begging for someone—anyone—to stop this.

suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air, the thunderous rhythm sending a jolt of terror down your spine. you glanced over your shoulder, fear gripping you tightly as you saw the figure approaching rapidly on horseback. for a moment, you feared it was one of the king’s guards sent to drag you back to your fate. but as the rider came closer, the familiar face of namjoon materialized out of the darkness, his expression hard as steel. “get on,” he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

you stumbled to a halt, your breath catching as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. the shock of seeing him, of all people, froze you in place. “i’m not marrying the king,” you stammered, panic threading through your voice. namjoon scoffed, his gaze flicking back toward the palace, where the looming threat of pursuit seemed imminent. “i know,” he replied, the words clipped. “now get on, unless you want to marry him.”

his words cut through your fear, snapping you out of your hesitation. you knew he was right; you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t risk being caught. with trembling hands, you reached out and grasped his arm, letting him pull you up onto the horse behind him. as soon as you were settled, namjoon spurred the horse forward, the animal lunging into a full gallop that sent the world around you racing by in a blur.

the wind whipped against your face, tears springing to your eyes as you clung to namjoon’s waist. the forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was a welcome sight—anything was better than the palace, than the nightmare waiting for you there.

but your relief was short-lived. the distant sound of more horses pounding the earth reached your ears, and when you turned to look, your heart leaped into your throat. hansol, baekhyun, daniel, and younghyun were chasing after you, their horses closing the distance with every passing second. you could see the determination etched on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. namjoon noticed them too, and with a sharp command, he urged his horse to go faster, the beast pushing itself to its limits. but hansol was relentless, his horse surging ahead until he was neck and neck with namjoon.

“give her to me!” hansol shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice laced with both authority and concern. namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the reins tightening. “what makes you think i’ll do that?” he shot back, his voice cold.

hansol’s gaze burned with intensity as he locked eyes with namjoon. “because she doesn’t belong to you,” he replied, the words heavy with meaning. the silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. you could feel the weight of their standoff, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air. but before anything more could be said, the sound of more horses filled the night, and you turned to see the king’s guards closing in, led by jisoo.

your heart sank at the sight of the soldiers, their faces set with grim determination. jisoo rode at the front, a wooden contraption strapped to the back of his horse—a box. you knew what it was for, and dread curled in your stomach. “come with us,” jisoo called out, his tone authoritative. “king’s orders.”

namjoon’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing as he prepared to fight. “she’s not going anywhere,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. but you saw the reality of the situation, the hopelessness of it all. the thought of all the princes getting in trouble, of them suffering because of you, was too much to bear. you couldn’t let that happen. with a heavy sigh, you made a decision.

“i’ll be okay,” you said quietly, the words catching in your throat as you slid off namjoon’s horse. “no,” namjoon protested, his hand reaching out to stop you. “don’t do this.”

you forced a small smile, though your heart ached. “i’ll be fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing. “it’s better this way.”

hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, his hand twitching as if he wanted to pull you back onto the horse. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice strained. you shook your head, your resolve firm. “i do,” you replied softly, stepping away from them. “i won’t let any of you get hurt because of me.”

the disappointment and worry in their eyes were like daggers to your heart, but you knew this was the only way. you couldn’t risk their safety—not for anything. with slow, reluctant steps, you approached the box, the guards flanking you on either side. you glanced back one last time, meeting namjoon’s gaze, then hansol’s. the pain in their eyes mirrored your own.

as the guards lifted you into the box, jisoo’s voice cut through the air, a solemn promise in his tone. “she’ll be fine,” he assured them. “i’ll make sure of it.” the box door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in your heart as the darkness enveloped you. the sound of the guards’ horses moving away signaled the end of your brief escape, the end of your hope. and as the box jostled and bumped on its journey back to the palace, you could only pray that somehow, someway, this nightmare would end.

the palace seemed like a different world as you were ushered inside. your mind swirled in disbelief and fear, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. the court ladies, their faces masked with practiced neutrality, led you to a room adorned with ornate silks and lacquered wood. you felt as though you were moving through a nightmare, each step heavier than the last.

they seated you on a cushioned stool, their hands moving with a mechanical efficiency as they began to undo the fastenings of your dress. “please, just sit still,” one of them said, her tone more of an order than a request. “what are you doing?” you whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of dread and defiance. “i don’t want this, i don’t want any of this.”

the ladies exchanged glances before one of them spoke, her voice cold and detached. “we must examine your body for any scars. nobody with scars can marry the king.” panic surged through you, and you tried to push their hands away. “stop it! i said no!”

but your protests were ignored. they grew more insistent, their hands rougher as they forced your garments off, layer by layer, until you were left bare and shivering. You whimpered, helpless under their unyielding grip, your dignity stripped away along with your clothing. their eyes swept over you, clinical and impersonal, as if you were nothing more than an object to be inspected. tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as the humiliation tore through you. you were powerless to stop them, and it felt as though a part of you had been torn away, never to be returned.

after what felt like an eternity, they finally seemed satisfied that your skin was unmarked. the realization that your body had passed their cruel inspection brought no relief, only a deepening sense of despair. they dressed you next, their hands just as brisk and efficient as before, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face. you were adorned in the traditional wedding attire—a vibrant, intricately woven hanbok, its bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness you felt inside. the fabric was heavy, suffocating, as they tied the last ribbons in place. they pulled your hair back, weaving it into an elaborate style that felt too tight, too restricting.

you were barely able to see through the veil of your own tears, but they paid no mind. to them, you were just another duty, another task to be completed. they adjusted the final touches on your face, the paint smearing as it mixed with your tears, but they ignored it, pretending not to notice your distress. finally, they stepped back, their work complete, and motioned for you to leave. your legs felt like lead as you rose from the stool, the weight of the garments and the situation bearing down on you. as you moved down the corridor, the air around you thickened with a suffocating sense of inevitability.

the hall stretched out before you, long and oppressive, each step forward bringing you closer to a fate you did not want to accept. you felt so young, too young to be forced into something like this. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a desperate plea to escape. as you reached the midpoint of the hall, you saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows. namjoon. your breath caught in your throat, a spark of hope flickering within you, only to be quickly doused by the reality of your situation.

“don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and urgent. his eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own. you shook your head, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. “i have to,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to maintain your composure. “i don’t have a choice.”

before namjoon could respond, the king appeared beside him, his presence commanding and suffocating. “are you ready?” king taejo asked, his voice steady and authoritative, as though this was just another routine matter to be settled. you met the king’s gaze, the weight of your impending fate pressing down on you from all sides. you nodded, your voice barely audible as you responded, “yes, your majesty.”

but even as the words left your lips, something within you snapped. desperation took hold, a final surge of defiance rising from the depths of your being. you turned abruptly to the small table beside you, your eyes locking onto the delicate vase that rested there. without a second thought, you seized the vase and smashed it against the edge of the table, the shattering sound echoing through the hall like the cry of your breaking spirit. the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, but your hand reached down with a singular purpose.

the sharp edge of the broken vase gleamed in your hand as you brought it up to your wrist. time seemed to slow as you pressed it into your skin, the pain slicing through your thoughts like lightning. blood welled up, red and stark against the white porcelain and your pale skin.

“stop!” hansol’s voice rang out from behind you, filled with horror, but it was too late. your vision blurred as the blood flowed, your body swaying as the strength drained from you. you heard namjoon call your name, his voice distant and desperate, but everything was fading fast. the world around you dimmed, the sounds of the palace growing faint as you slipped into darkness. the last thing you felt was the coldness of the floor as your body collapsed, and then, nothing.

you woke to a hazy, throbbing sensation in your head, the disorienting jumble of noise and light mixing together. as your consciousness slowly sharpened, you became aware of a heavy, comforting presence beside you. you turned your head, your vision still blurry, and saw hansol sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen, his expression a mix of sorrow and relief. the room was lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the walls. you could feel the warmth of the bed beneath you, the soft texture of the sheets brushing against your skin. your wrist, bandaged tightly, throbbed with a dull ache—a stark reminder of your desperate act.

hansol’s face, though tear-streaked and weary, was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision cleared. he looked at you with a blank, almost defeated expression, as though the events of the past hours had drained all the life from him. his eyes were full of unshed tears, and his gaze, though filled with concern, was tinged with an almost resigned sadness. you attempted to lift your head, but a wave of dizziness made you settle back into the pillows. weakly, you asked, “is the marriage stopped?”

hansol's eyes filled with fresh tears at your question. without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fervent desperation that spoke volumes. his hold was firm, as though he was afraid you might disappear again. the warmth of his body against yours was a balm to your wounded spirit. he nodded into your hair, his voice muffled but earnest. “yes, it’s stopped. never do that again,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

you could only manage a soft sob against his shoulder, your tears mingling with his. you hugged him back, the raw comfort of the embrace a balm for the deep despair that had taken root in your heart. jis words—desperate, pained—were a stark reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. “i thought i’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice heavy with relief and sorrow. “please, never do that again.”

you whispered a shaky promise, your voice barely audible. “i won’t. i promise.” hansol’s hold on you tightened briefly before he pulled back slightly, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. he looked at you with a solemn expression and said, “you’ll be working as a court lady in the palace. that’s your punishment.”

you nodded weakly, accepting the judgment. the prospect of working as a court lady felt like a small price to pay compared to the chaos you had narrowly escaped. you weren’t sure what the future held, but it seemed like a less bitter pill to swallow than the marriage you had so desperately sought to avoid. as you stepped out of the palace’s maiden room, you caught sight of namjoon standing nearby, his figure silhouetted against the corridor’s light. the sight of him sent a jolt of mixed emotions through you. he looked as though he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

you remained silent as he approached, your gaze dropping to the floor. namjoon’s face was stern, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he reached out and took your bandaged wrist in his hand. the touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, as though he was trying to steady himself in the face of his own emotions.

“how could you be so stupid?” he asked, his voice a blend of exasperation and genuine worry. the words were harsh, but there was an underlying tenderness that belied his stern tone. you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “i wasn’t going to marry against my will.”

namjoon’s brow furrowed as he looked at the scarred skin beneath the bandages. “you’ve scarred your body for no good reason,” he said, a trace of frustration seeping through. you managed a faint, weary smile. “the scar looks better on you than on me.”

for a brief moment, namjoon’s stern expression softened. he offered you a weak, almost apologetic smile before patting your head gently. the gesture was unexpectedly comforting, a rare show of affection amidst the chaos. without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you with the faint warmth of his touch lingering on your head. as you watched him disappear down the corridor, you felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but also a flicker of hope.

in the heart of the palace, where the corridors were as grand as they were intimidating, you began your new role as a court lady. your days were filled with endless tasks, each one a reminder of your fall from the privileged world you once knew. lady jeon, your assigned mentor, was a woman of formidable presence and a reputation for cruelty. her sharp eyes missed nothing, and her standards were unyielding.

from the moment you stepped into her care, you felt her scrutiny. the first task she set before you was an assortment of menial duties—dusting ornate vases, arranging fresh flowers, and meticulously organizing the shelves of her chamber. every mistake was met with her disapproving gaze and a cruel punishment: stacking books on your head. the tomes were heavy and cumbersome, their pages rustling as they were added one after another. if you faltered or misplaced an item, you were forced to balance an ever-increasing stack, adding to the strain and frustration.

one day, lady jeon’s sharp eyes widened in surprise as you began crafting a bar of soap. her initial skepticism was evident as you mixed lye with fat and various herbs. she watched with a mixture of fascination and suspicion as you worked. you explained the process in detail, your hands skillfully moving to blend the ingredients. “this is soap,” you said, holding up the resulting mixture for her inspection. “it’s used for cleaning and has healing properties.”

her gaze was critical. “soap? what makes you think this will be of any use in the palace? and why should i believe you know what you’re doing?” you tried to ignore her tone and continued, though each mistake led to a new round of book-stacking. the heavy volumes pressed against your neck and shoulders as you wobbled under their weight, but you persevered. each error only drove you to refine your craft further, driven by the desire to prove yourself.

your routine, however, took a sudden turn when you heard frantic cries coming from crown prince taehyung’s quarters. without thinking, you ran toward the commotion. as you burst into the room, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of taehyung’s blotched skin. the rumors about his illness were true—he was afflicted with a severe rash, and he was about to immerse himself in a tub of cold water.

“stop!” you shouted, rushing to him and trying to pry the jug from his hands. “don’t use cold water. it’ll make the itching worse!”

taehyung’s eyes widened with shock and anger. “how dare you come in here? you’re not supposed to know about this!” he snapped, pushing you away. you landed on the floor, but you quickly scrambled to your feet. ignoring the pain, you called out, “please, don’t use cold water. It will aggravate the rash. warm water with peppermint leaves will soothe it.”

as you spoke, you noticed taehyung’s hesitance. he watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as you instructed another court lady to fetch a bucket of warm water and peppermint leaves. you worked swiftly, applying the warm solution to his inflamed skin, explaining as you went, “peppermint has soothing properties. it’ll help reduce the itching and inflammation.”

before you could finish, lady keon stormed into the room, her face a mask of horror. “what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with authority. “how dare you touch the crown prince!” taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but lady jeon was quick to intervene. she grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the room, her grip unyielding. “you’ve overstepped your bounds,” she snapped. “your punishment will be severe.”

back in her chamber, you were once again subjected to the cruel task of balancing books on your head. the punishment was even harsher this time, as lady jeon observed with a harsh, unyielding gaze. as you struggled to maintain your balance, she sat across from you, eating a simple meal of plain rice porridge. she finally broke the silence. “how did you know that peppermint would help?”

you looked up, your voice barely above a whisper. “my grandfather had the same issue. i learned what helped him.”

lady jeon’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she was silent. she continued to eat, her movements methodical and slow. “lady jeon, why is it that you only eat rice poridge?” you asked, noting her grim expression. her expression remained stoic as she locked eyes with you, “i'm dying,” two words, simple enough to be spoken so lightly, yet enough to make your stomach dropped.

you coughed, trying to make sense of the overwhelming silence as you mustered up your next question. “why do you hate me so much?” you asked weakly, the heavy books pressing against your frail wrists.

the question seemed to strike a chord. lady jeon slammed her spoon down onto the table, the clatter echoing in the room. “because,” she said, her voice harsh and tinged with bitterness, “you remind me of myself.” her gaze hardened, and she continued, “you’re too damn nice and too trusting. it’s a weakness in this world, and i hate seeing it in you.”

the revelation stunned you. the cruelty you faced, the harshness of her punishments—it all made a grim sort of sense now. lady jeon’s cruelty was not just a reflection of her own frustrations but a defense against her own vulnerabilities. as the minutes passed and the evening wore on, you were left alone with your thoughts, the sting of her words and the weight of your punishment settling heavily on you. the palace had become a battleground of emotions and expectations, and you were left to navigate its treacherous terrain.

the silence of the palace courtyard was abruptly shattered by screams that pierced through the tranquil atmosphere. the sudden, jarring sounds echoed through the stone corridors, causing you to jump in surprise. your heart raced as you exchanged a worried glance with lady jeon, her stern demeanor momentarily softening.

you both hurried outside, your footsteps quick and light on the cold marble. as you reached the courtyard, the scene that unfolded before you was both shocking and horrifying. chaeyeon, one of the palace aides, was being whipped mercilessly by princess seulgi. the sound of the whip cracking against her back was almost unbearable, and chaeyeon's cries of pain cut through the air like a knife.

“what’s happening?” you asked in a voice trembling with fear and disbelief. seulgi, her expression cold and unyielding, barely glanced at you as she continued her punishment. “she was caught stealing from the Fourth Prince,” seulgi responded dismissively, holding up a small, ornate hairpin. the metal glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and your heart sank as you recognized it.

the hairpin was one you had asked chaeyeon to return discreetly. it had belonged to Namjoon, dropped in the bath during a moment of chaos. realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a surge of guilt and desperation.

“stop it,” you practically snapped, rushing toward them. “please, stop this. chaeyeon was just following my instructions to return the hairpin. it was my fault, not hers.” chaeyeon’s eyes were wide with fear and gratitude as she looked at you. “please, don’t,” she begged, her voice barely audible over the whipping. “it’s not her fault. i did it.”

ignoring the pleas, you turned back to seulgi, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat. “it was my mistake. if anyone should be punished, it should be me. please, whip me instead.” seulgi’s gaze narrowed as she considered your offer, a flicker of interest lighting up her cold eyes. with a sneer, she let chaeyeon go, the whip still crackling in her hand. “very well,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “since you’re so eager to take her place.”

before you could react, seulgi was already tying your hands to the same wooden pole. the rough ropes dug into your skin as she secured them, and your heart pounded in your chest. the anticipation of the impending pain was almost as torturous as the pain itself. seulgi’s eyes were cold and calculating as she prepared to strike.

to the side, you noticed the tense figures of baekhyun, daniel, and hansol. their faces were etched with concern and distress. baekhyun’s eyes were wide with alarm, and he took a step forward, but jisoo restrained him with a firm grip. hansol’s face was a mask of grim determination, his fists clenched at his sides. “seulgi, stop this,” hansol’s voice rang out, strained and desperate. “this isn’t right.”

seulgi’s lips curled into a scornful smile as she raised her hand to crack the whip once more. “why should i listen to you? she chose this herself.” as the whip began its descent, you braced yourself for the searing pain. the crack of the whip was deafening, and the sting of the leather against your back was a sharp, biting sensation. the pain was immediate and intense, but before the next strike could land, a hand shot out and stopped seulgi’s arm mid-air.

seulgi looked up, her eyes narrowing with surprise and irritation. standing before her was namjoon, his face a mask of unyielding authority. “that’s enough,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. he stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect and silence. seulgi’s eyes widened in shock as namjoon approached you. without a word, he untied the ropes binding your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle against the raw skin. “what are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice tinged with irritation. “this is not your concern.”

namjoon’s gaze was fixed on you, his expression a complex mixture of anger and protectiveness. “she’s mine,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “no one else can lay a finger on her.”

hansol’s face contorted in a grimace, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and frustration. the tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness. seulgi’s scowl deepened as she took a step back, her demeanor one of begrudging acceptance. you felt a mix of emotions as namjoon’s gaze softened slightly, though the intensity of the moment was far from over. you stood there, your back stinging from the whip’s lash, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with lingering dread.

baekhyun’s quarters were a curious blend of regal opulence and childlike whimsy, filled with an assortment of traditional toys that seemed almost out of place among the luxurious furnishings. as you followed him inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful collection scattered about. wooden spinning tops painted with vibrant designs, intricately carved wooden animals, and delicate paper kites, their strings neatly coiled, lay spread across a large, intricately woven rug.

he picked up a small, intricately crafted wooden horse, its legs jointed to allow for movement. with a soft, nostalgic smile, he began to demonstrate how it could gallop across the floor. “this one was made by a craftsman from the western region,” he said proudly, his eyes lighting up with fondness. “it’s one of my favorites.”

you watched with interest as he moved from toy to toy, each piece revealing a glimpse of his more youthful side. he showed you a set of spinning tops, their colors creating a mesmerizing blur as he spun them on the floor. “and this,” he said, holding up a wooden top with a painted dragon, “is a game my family used to play during festivals.”

as he enthusiastically displayed his collection, you couldn’t help but ask, “why are you so intent on showing me these?”

baekhyun’s smile faltered, and his brow furrowed as he set down the toys. he looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and sadness. “no girl has ever treated me like you,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a sadness that was almost palpable.

you laughed softly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. before you could respond further, jisoo entered the room, his expression serious and formal. the atmosphere shifted instantly, and you quickly stood, bowing in respect as jisoo approached. his gaze swept over both of you, and he cleared his throat. “i have an announcement,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of official duty.

baekhyun’s face brightened momentarily, but his smile faltered when he heard jisoo’s next words. “his majesty has decreed that you are to be married.”

the words seemed to hit Baekhyun like a physical blow. “married?” he protested, his voice cracking with disbelief. “but why? to whom? i—” jisoo cut him off with a firm nod. “it’s the king’s orders. the decision is final.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

the impact of the news was immediate and overwhelming. baekhyun stood there, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the announcement had physically crushed him. his face was a mask of anguish and confusion. you moved closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be alright,” you said softly, though you were unsure of how to truly comfort him. “whoever the girl is, she’ll be lucky to have you.”

baekhyun’s eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and desperation evident in his gaze. “i can’t love her,” he said quietly, the words heavy with resignation. “i don’t even know who she is. how can i just accept this?”

you sighed, feeling the depth of his distress. “you have to pull through,” you said gently. “you’re a kind person, and you’ll find a way to make it work. besides, i’m sure the girl will see the good in you.”

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of hope mingled with sadness. “why won’t you marry me instead?” he asked suddenly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and despair. the question caught you off guard. “i don’t want to be a second wife,” you said softly, though you could sense his disappointment even before he voiced it.

baekhyun’s face fell, and he shook his head slowly. “you’re a mean liar,” he said with a forced smile. “you wouldn’t even be my first wife.”

before he could say more, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. the gesture surprised him, and he stiffened for a moment before sinking into the embrace. his heart ached with a profound sense of loss as he felt your warmth and sincerity envelop him. the hug was a silent comfort, a brief respite from the turmoil that had overtaken his life. You held him close, your own heart aching for the sadness he felt. the tears you had both tried to hold back now fell freely, mingling with the unspoken words and emotions that filled the space between you.

the grand hall was awash with opulence, filled with the clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation as the royal family and their guests gathered to celebrate baekhyun’s wedding. you moved among the crowd with practiced grace, balancing a tray of tea cups as you served the guests. the air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and the rich aroma of the tea.

baekhyun sat at the head table, his expression a mix of strained formality and discomfort. next to him, his new wife, kim taeyeon, attempted to mask her anxiety behind a delicate smile. jiyoung approached baekhyun with a sickly warm smile. “how do you feel about the wedding, baekhyun?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal concern.

baekhyun’s scowl was immediate and pronounced. “i don’t like it,” he replied bluntly, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape. his honesty seemed to catch taeyeon off guard, and she frowned, her eyes darting to her husband with a mix of confusion and hurt. king taejo, seated at the center of the head table, patted baekhyun on the shoulder with an air of paternal authority. “you’ll get used to it,” he said reassuringly, though his words lacked the comfort baekhyun likely needed.

princess seulgi, her expression somewhat aloof, leaned towards taeyeon. “you’re a lucky woman,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of condescension. taeyeon forced a smile in response, though her eyes betrayed her unease. as you moved to serve tea to namjoon, you locked eyes with him across the room. his gaze was steady, but something in his posture struck you as unusual. as you approached, you noticed a shiver wracking his frame. you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was beginning to grow within you.

when you poured tea into his cup, a chilling sight met your eyes. namjoon’s lips were stained with a dark, crimson blood that was beginning to drip down his chin. panic surged through you, and you let out a sharp scream, the sound piercing through the otherwise composed atmosphere of the hall.

the commotion erupted suddenly. at the same moment, king taejo’s body slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a sickening thud. the room erupted into chaos. the guests scrambled, their screams blending into a cacophony of horror. the princes rushed to their father, their faces contorted in anguish as they tried to revive him. namjoon’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and Jisoo rushed to his side, barking orders for medical assistance. his face was pale, and he looked grave as he examined the king. the royal guards were quick to intervene, ushering the panicked crowd away from the scene.

jisoo’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and unyielding. “the king’s pulse is weak,” he announced, his tone flat as he looked up at the assembled crowd. “it appears he was poisoned.” the room fell into stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. your heart raced, and you turned to fetch your medicine, hoping to find a remedy or at least offer some aid. but before you could take a step, jisoo’s hand shot out to stop you. his expression was a mix of authority and cold detachment.

“stop right there,” he said firmly. “you’re under arrest for the attempted murders of king taejo and kim namjoon.”

your blood ran cold as the words hit you. “what? no, that’s impossible!” you protested, your voice trembling with disbelief. “i didn’t do anything!”

guards surged forward, their expressions stern and unyielding. they seized you roughly, dragging you away from the scene. you struggled against their grip, your pleas for justice echoing through the hall. “i swear, i didn’t do this! i was just serving tea!” the guards paid no heed to your protests, and you were forced into the cold, oppressive darkness of an underground chamber. the walls were damp and echoing with the sounds of dripping water. the chamber was stark and barren, a heavy iron door clanging shut behind you with a deafening noise.

you sank to the floor, the weight of the accusations pressing down on you. tears streamed down your face as you grappled with the enormity of the situation. the betrayal, the confusion, and the fear all swirled together, leaving you feeling lost and helpless in the unforgiving darkness.

in the room of the royal palace, the atmosphere was charged with tension and desperation. hansol and daniel, their faces etched with worry and frustration, were pacing the floor in the king’s chamber. king taejo lay propped up in his bed, his pallid face a stark contrast to the rich, regal fabrics draped around him. his condition was grave, and the room was filled with the faint, oppressive scent of illness.

“your majesty,” hansol began, his voice trembling slightly as he approached the bed, “we have reason to believe that nabi is innocent. the evidence against her is false.” king taejo's eyes, heavy with the weight of impending death, flickered with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “there was poison found in her room,” he replied, his voice raspy and weak. “it’s clear she was involved.”

“but we have witnesses,” daniel interjected urgently, stepping forward. “we’ve spoken to several people who can attest to her innocence.” the king's gaze remained unyielding, a cold resolve in his eyes. “it does not change the fact that poison was found, nor does it alter my decision. she will be hanged.”

the finality of his statement struck hansol and daniel like a physical blow. hansol’s face turned ashen, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “you can’t do this!” he protested. “we have to find out the truth!” daniel’s eyes were pleading, but the king’s resolve remained unshaken. “it is done,” king taejo said, turning his head away dismissively.

in your cell, the heavy silence was only broken by the occasional drip of water from the stone walls. you were bruised from the guards’ rough handling, your limbs aching from the beatings. the cold, unforgiving darkness of the cell seemed to press in on you from all sides, making your isolation feel even more profound. suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. your heart leaped with a mix of hope and apprehension. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped into the dimly lit cell. his eyes were filled with a fierce determination as he approached.

“i didn’t do it,” you said weakly, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “i swear, i didn’t.” namjoon’s expression softened slightly, though his face remained stern. “i know,” he said quietly. “i’ll find out who really did this. you have my word.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the cell. you watched him go, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst your despair. namjoon’s resolve was a small beacon of light in your otherwise dark world.

that night, namjoon kept watch from the shadows, his gaze fixed on the maiden’s quarters. his keen eyes caught sight of a cloaked figure slipping stealthily from the building. without hesitation, he moved to intercept, drawing his sword with a practiced, fluid motion. “stop right there,” he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. the figure paused, slowly turning to reveal a face shrouded in darkness. namjoon’s sword remained at the ready as he advanced, his eyes narrowing.

just then, another cloaked figure emerged from the shadows across from them. namjoon’s suspicion deepened. “both of you, show yourselves,” he ordered. “give it up now, and i might let you live.”

the first figure revealed herself as jiyoung, her face set in a smug expression. the second figure, emerging from the cloak’s folds, was seulgi. her smile was equally self-satisfied, and together, their presence was a shocking revelation.

in the king’s chamber, the atmosphere was somber. lady jeon entered with a tray of tea, her movements deliberate and controlled. king taejo’s eyes, now dimming with the weight of his impending death, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and resignation. “are you happy to see me die?” the king asked, his voice barely a whisper.

lady jeon’s gaze was unwavering. “i could never hate you,” she replied, her tone soft yet tinged with a hint of bitterness. “i loved you once.”

the king’s eyes widened slightly. “you’re speaking of the past. it was many years ago.” lady jeon nodded. “i miscarried, and you married jiyoung instead. it was a heartbreak i could never overcome.”

the king’s face grew somber. “what is it you want from me now?”

lady jeon’s eyes hardened with a resolute fire. “i have one wish before you go. i was the one who put poison in the tea. i want to be hanged for my crime, and I want nabi to be spared.”

king taejo’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “you’re lying. there’s no evidence of your guilt.”

lady jeon’s voice was firm, though she kept a calm exterior. “it’s true. the poison was in the tea i served to you and the fourth prince.” she then produced a vial, its contents a dark, ominous liquid. “i ask to be hanged and for nabi to be released.”

the king’s gaze flickered between lady jeon and the vial. “very well,” he said, though his voice carried an air of finality. “call the guards.”

she smiled bitterly. “i’ll see you very soon, your majesty.”

as the heavy iron door of your cell creaked open, you were met with a wave of harsh light and the stoic faces of the palace guards. your heart pounded in your chest, a cacophony of confusion and hope swirling within you. the guards, their expressions unreadable, began leading you out of the cold, dark confines of the cell. “why am I being released?” you asked, your voice hoarse from disuse and grief.

one of the guards, his tone devoid of emotion, replied, “the culprit has been found. you are no longer needed here.”

a knot of unease formed in your stomach. “who is it?” you pressed, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. as if in answer, lady jeon appeared, her hands bound and a serene smile playing on her lips. your breath caught in your throat, and an intense wave of anger and despair surged through you. without thinking, you lunged toward her, but the guards intervened, restraining you with practiced ease.

“let me go!” you cried, struggling against their hold. “i need to speak with her!” the guards hesitated, exchanging glances before reluctantly allowing you a brief moment. you seized the opportunity, guiding lady jeon to the secluded cave where you and chaeyeon had hidden after the bath incident. your hands trembled as you tried to move the rocks obstructing the entrance, but they remained stubbornly in place.

“please, we can escape together,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. “we can get out of here.” lady jeon’s gaze was filled with a mix of sadness and resignation as she pulled you into a tender embrace. her arms were warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality that awaited both of you.

“don’t trust anyone in the palace,” she murmured into your hair. “they are all deceitful and dangerous.” tears streamed down your face, and you clung to her, your sobs wracking your body. “please, don’t go,” you begged, your voice barely audible through the torrent of grief. “please, just stay with me.”

lady jeon’s fingers brushed your hair gently as she whispered, “i’d be dead soon anyway. it’s better this way.” she placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her touch lingering for a final, bittersweet moment. with a final, sorrowful glance, lady jeon turned and walked away. you watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from view. your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you made your way back to the palace, each step a painful reminder of the loss you were enduring.

as you stumbled through the corridors, your voice rose in a hoarse, broken plea. “your majesty, please spare lady jeon,” you cried out repeatedly, but the halls were empty, your words echoing only to meet deaf ears. when you finally reached the palace grounds, you collapsed onto the ground, your body wracked with sobs. the weight of your grief and the realization of lady jeon’s fate pressed heavily upon you. the once vibrant grounds seemed to darken around you, reflecting your internal turmoil.

hansol and jisoo emerged from one side, their expressions etched with concern and helplessness. hansol’s eyes were filled with a profound sadness, unable to offer more than a silent witness to your suffering. jisoo’s face was grim, his usual composure overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. suddenly, a familiar presence approached. namjoon, his face a mask of determination and concern, appeared at your side. without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. you struggled against him for a moment, but his hold was firm yet gentle.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled you against his shoulder. “it’ll be alright. i’m here.” his words, though not a complete balm for your anguish, provided a small measure of comfort. you buried your face in his shoulder, allowing your tears to flow freely as he carried you through the palace grounds. his presence was a beacon of solace amid the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you.

as he walked, his strides steady and purposeful, you clung to him, your sobs slowly subsiding into quiet, exhausted breaths. namjoon’s steady murmurs of reassurance continued, a soft lullaby against the backdrop of your grief. “it’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, each word infused with a tenderness that cut through the darkness of your despair. “i promise.” you looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, feeling a fragile thread of hope amid the overwhelming sorrow. as he carried you through the palace and away from the tragic scene, you clung to the promise that perhaps, in time, the pain would ease.

the palace was a flurry of activity and hushed whispers as the news of king taejo’s death spread like wildfire through the kingdom. the once vibrant corridors and grand halls now felt heavy with an air of somber anticipation. everywhere you went, the gravity of the king's demise seemed to press down, casting a veil of melancholy over the palace and its inhabitants.

the funeral ceremonies had been conducted with solemnity, and now, a new chapter was beginning. taehyung, the crown prince, was being crowned as the next king. the ceremony was an elaborate affair, filled with the grandeur expected of such a significant event. the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers, as the high priests performed rites to ensure a smooth transition of power. taehyung stood tall, his expression a mix of resolve and trepidation, as the crown was placed upon his head. the weight of the kingdom’s future now rested upon his shoulders.

in the aftermath of the coronation, tensions were high. chaehee, the third prince, was barely able to contain his fury. he stormed through the halls, his anger manifesting in shattered dishes and overturned furniture. the sound of breaking porcelain and clattering metal echoed through the palace, a stark contrast to the ceremonial calm that had just enveloped the kingdom.

jiyoung, now dealing with the new political landscape, attempted to calm him. “chaehee, control yourself!” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “your outbursts won’t change anything. we’ll get rid of taehyung soon enough.”

chaehee’s rage was palpable as he glared at her. “it’s not right,” he spat. “he’s unworthy, and you know it. he’s a puppet, and we’re the ones who’ll be strung along while he plays king.”

meanwhile, newly crowned king taehyung addressed the court with a somber determination. his voice, though steady, held an undercurrent of urgency. “in light of the recent events and the dire need for rain,” he announced, “we will perform the rain ritual. our people are suffering from a severe drought, and we must do all we can to bring relief.”

the ritual was an old tradition, one that involved a ceremonial process of selecting a prince to lead a procession through the town, praying for rain. the princes’ names were written on sticks, which would be drawn by jisoo, the king’s advisor. the chosen prince would then ride through the streets, offering prayers and sacrifices to appease the heavens.

as the princes gathered, baekhyun, his face pale and his hands trembling, voiced his fear. “what happens if no rain comes after the ritual?” he asked, his voice cracking with anxiety. jisoo, his expression cold and detached, replied, “the chosen one will be sacrificed. it is believed that the heavens will only answer our prayers if the price is paid.”

baekhyun’s eyes widened in terror, and he desperately pleaded, “please, take my name out. i don’t want to be the one chosen.” laughter erupted among the courtiers and some of the princes, their mockery ringing harshly in the tense atmosphere. jisoo, unmoved by baekhyun’s pleas, reached into the urn and pulled out a stick. his face remained impassive as he revealed the name written on it.

chaehee’s expression darkened with malicious glee. “namjoon?” he scoffed. “with that scar of his, he’d only scare the rain away. he’s hardly fit to be a messenger for the gods.” namjoon’s shoulders sagged, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. he stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor, his heart visibly heavy with the burden of his impending fate.

you were in lady jeon’s former chamber, packing her belongings into boxes. the task was a grim one, and your tears fell freely as you moved her personal effects. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on you, adding a layer of sorrow to the already somber task. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped in, his face drawn and weary. you looked up, wiping your tears hastily. “is everything alright?” you asked, your voice soft and concerned.

namjoon’s gaze was troubled as he spoke. “the rain ritual, i’ve been chosen to participate,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “i’m worried that my scar will be a problem. i need it covered up.”

your heart ached for him. “i’ll help you,” you said, though the task ahead seemed daunting. you led him to a small vanity where you began the meticulous process of applying makeup to hide the scar on his face. with gentle hands, you applied the foundation, carefully blending it to cover the disfigurement. every touch was tender, your focus entirely on the task. namjoon’s discomfort was palpable as he flinched slightly under your touch, but he remained still, his eyes reflecting a mixture of shame and hope.

“it isn’t that bad,” you reassured him, your voice soothing. “it’s just a scar. you’re still the same person.” namjoon’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion. “it means a lot to me.”

once the makeup was applied, you handed him the mirror. he examined his reflection closely, a look of tentative relief crossing his features. “it looks much better,” he said, his tone lighter. “thank you for this.”

as the rain ritual began, the air was thick with anticipation and desperation. the town was crowded with people, their faces upturned as they watched the procession. taehyung, with his newly crowned dignity, led the ceremonial march. the atmosphere was electric with hope and despair, the people’s prayers mingling with the rhythmic clamor of drums and the chants of supplicants.

namjoon, dressed in ceremonial robes and mounted on a horse, rode through the streets, his presence commanding a mixture of reverence and awe. the crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixed on him as he offered his prayers. after what felt like an eternity, the first droplets of rain began to fall. the sky, previously clouded and gray, opened up, and the rain poured down in a life-giving deluge. the crowd erupted into cheers and tears of joy, their relief overwhelming.

chaehee, standing on the sidelines, was fuming with rage. his face was a mask of fury as he watched the scene unfold, his anger directed at namjoon and the entire ritual. the sight of the rain, a sign of the gods’ favor, only seemed to fuel his ire further. you found yourself overwhelmed by the turn of events. as you moved through the halls, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you. your emotions were a tangled mess of relief, sadness, and exhaustion.

hansol’s approach was unexpected, his expression a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite place. as he drew near, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. he stopped in front of you, his eyes searching yours with a gravity that made your heart race.

“was it you who covered namjoon’s scar?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a hint of something you couldn’t immediately identify. you nodded, feeling a sudden chill run through you. “yes, it was me.” his reaction was immediate, his face falling into a look of disappointment that was almost palpable. “why are you so upset?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the question hung in the air between you, a contrast to the celebratory mood that still lingered in the palace.

hansol was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as if grappling with his thoughts. finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a hesitant resolve. “i wanted to ask you something,” he said, his tone unsteady. “i want to marry you.”

the words struck you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you momentarily disoriented. the request was so unexpected that it took a few moments for your mind to process it. you stared at hansol, and in that moment, a wave of disturbing visions surged through your mind.

you saw the historical echoes of a tyrant king, the fourth king gwangjong, whose ambition had led him to murder his brothers to secure his throne. the visions were vivid and horrifying, with gwangjong’s face morphing into namjoon’s, a sinister reflection of a dark fate. the realization came crashing down on you like a torrent, and you found yourself whispering, “stay away from prince namjoon. he will kill you,” over and over, as if it were a mantra that could ward off the impending doom.

tears welled up in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you repeated the warning in a trance-like state. hansol’s confusion grew evident, his hands reaching out to shake your shoulders gently. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you barely registered his words, your mind lost in a haze of fear and foreboding. “stay away if you want to live,” you managed to say, your voice breaking with emotion. the urgency in your tone left no room for debate. “stay away.” with those final, desperate words, you turned and fled from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. the fear and shock were overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to prevent the terrible future you had glimpsed from coming to pass.

the atmosphere in the royal palace had shifted in the days following taehyung’s coronation. the once uneasy marriage between baekhyun and taeyeon had started to show signs of improvement. baekhyun, who had been so resistant to the idea of marriage, seemed to be finding solace in small, unanticipated joys.

he decided to share his collection of traditional toys with taeyeon. he led her to a quiet corner of the palace where a small table was set up with an assortment of handcrafted toys: intricately carved wooden tops, delicate paper kites, and colorful spinning tops. the toys were beautifully made, each one a testament to the craftsmanship of their creators.

“look at this one,” baekhyun said, holding up a wooden top with a flourish. “it’s called a ‘cheongchun.’ you spin it and see how long it can keep going.” taeyeon’s eyes lit up with genuine interest as she took the top from him. she gave it a spin, and it twirled gracefully on the table. “it’s wonderful,” she said, her smile wide. “i’ve never seen anything like it.”

baekhyun’s expression softened as he watched her. “i used to play with these all the time as a child,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “they remind me of simpler times.” taeyeon laughed softly, her previous unease dissipating. “it’s nice to see you enjoying something so simple.”

as the two of them continued to explore the toys, an unexpected sense of camaraderie began to form between them. it was clear that taeyeon’s genuine interest and baekhyun’s willingness to share a piece of his past were forging a new connection, one that seemed to ease the tension that had once been suffocating.

meanwhile, you had been assigned to attend to taehyung’s needs, and today that meant holding towels while he took a bath. you stood near the edge of the opulent bathing room, the scent of fragrant oils and warm steam filling the air. taehyung, relaxed and unworried, was immersed in the large, ornate bath, the water shimmering with golden hues from the light filtering in through the intricately designed windows.

the serene moment was abruptly shattered when a group of guards burst into the room, followed closely by chaehee, who was flanked by a grim-faced entourage. your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of namjoon storming in behind them. his face was pale, his eyes wide with alarm.

“run!” namjoon shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. “taehyung, get out of the water!” but it was already too late.

as you turned to the bath, your breath caught in your throat. taehyung was struggling, his face contorted in pain. he gasped for breath, his body convulsing violently. blood bubbled from his mouth, and the water around him began to turn a disturbing shade of red. it was clear that something was terribly wrong. panic surged through you as you rushed forward, your hands trembling as you reached for taehyung. “your majesty! what’s happening?” you cried out, but your voice was swallowed by the chaos unfolding before you.

the guards rushed forward, but it was too late. taehyung’s struggles grew weaker, his body sinking lower into the water. the horrifying truth was becoming clear: someone had poisoned the bathwater. mercury, a deadly toxin, had been mixed into the water, causing taehyung’s horrific reaction. namjoon’s face was a mask of shock and helplessness. he looked at him with a mixture of horror and regret. “no, this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

chaehee stood to the side, his expression cold and detached as he watched the scene unfold. there was a grim satisfaction in his eyes, a chilling contrast to the devastation surrounding him. as taehyung’s body grew still, the room fell into a stunned silence. the atmosphere was suffused with grief and disbelief as the truth settled over the assembled witnesses. taehyung was dead, and the source of the poison remained unknown, though the look on chaehee’s face spoke volumes.

“announce the new king,” chaehee said quietly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

in the midst of the chaos, jisoo appeared, his face drawn with the weight of the moment. “by the decree of king taehyung’s death,” he announced, “prince chaehee will be crowned the next king.”

your mind reeled with the enormity of the events, the fear and sorrow threatening to overwhelm you. the scene was surreal, the opulence of the bathhouse now tainted with tragedy. as the reality of taehyung’s death sank in, you felt a sense of loss and helplessness. you watched as the remaining princes, including namjoon, struggled to come to terms with the sudden shift in power. the transition of kingship was sudden and brutal, leaving a palpable sense of instability in its wake.

the atmosphere in the palace had shifted from tense anticipation to outright horror as chaehee’s latest decree echoed through the halls. the proclamation came as a shock to everyone: the byun household, led by baekhyun, had been accused of deceit and failure to pay taxes over the years, a grave offense punishable by death. the news spread quickly from daniel to you, namjoon, hansol, and the other servants, each one feeling the weight of the announcement.

you were rushing through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the unfolding chaos. the palace was in turmoil, the once calm and orderly environment now a frenzied landscape of confusion and fear. you ran, desperate to see if you could somehow intervene or offer comfort, but the weight of the news felt like a leaden shroud around you.

you and the others arrived just in time to witness the grim scene unfolding in the courtyard. baekhyun and taeyeon were surrounded by a ring of guards, their faces pale and etched with despair. chaehee stood at the center of it all, his expression cold and detached as he prepared to carry out his decree.

taeyeon’s eyes were wide with terror as chaehee raised his bow. without hesitation, he released the arrow. it flew through the air with a deadly precision, striking taeyeon’s heart. she gasped, her body crumpling to the ground with a final, shuddering breath. the sight was horrific: her eyes wide open in shock as she lay motionless on the cobblestones. the impact of her sudden death was crushing, her life extinguished in an instant.

baekhyun, now completely distraught, fell to his knees beside her, his sobs wracking his body. the anguish on his face was palpable, his sorrow raw and unrestrained. “taeyeon!” he cried out, his voice breaking with each word. “taeyeon, no!”

the scene was a cacophony of grief and terror. you stood frozen in spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. the cold finality of chaehee’s actions was overwhelming. as if to add to the cruelty, chaehee drew another arrow, aiming it at baekhyun. the arrow struck him in the arm, and he cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as he continued to weep for his fallen wife.

daniel tried to rush forward, his face a mask of desperation. “baekhyun! no!” he shouted, but the guards held him back. namjoon, his face contorted with a mix of rage and sorrow, pushed past the guards, determined to reach his brother.

the chaos continued to swirl around you as baekhyun, weakened and in excruciating pain, was struck once more, this time in the stomach. namjoon reached his brother just as he fell to the ground, his breaths coming in shallow, agonized gasps. namjoon’s eyes were filled with tears as he knelt beside him, who reached out a trembling hand toward him. “i’m sorry,” baekhyun whispered, his voice barely audible over his gasps. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

namjoon’s face was a picture of heart-wrenching grief as he shook his head. “don’t talk like that,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “you’re going to be okay. you’ll get through this.”

baekhyun’s hand found namjoon’s, gripping it with a strength that belied his fading life. “no,” he said weakly. “i don’t want to live like this. i'd rather you finish it. please.”

namjoon’s tears flowed freely as he raised his sword, the weapon heavy in his trembling hands. daniel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as he tried to reach his brother, but the guards prevented him from doing so. namjoon’s face was a mask of anguish as he swung the sword, the blade slicing through baekhyun’s wound. baekhyun cried out one last time, his body collapsing onto the lifeless form of his wife. he reached out for her hand, his own trembling and weak.

with a final, desperate effort, baekhyun clung to taeyeon’s hand, his fingers stretching out as if trying to hold onto the last remnants of his life. the scene was heart-wrenching: the two of them, now forever entwined in death, their lives tragically cut short by the brutal decree of a new ruler.

chaehee, having witnessed the brutal execution, turned away from the grisly scene. his eyes fell upon hansol, who had been watching from the shadows, his expression a mix of shock and regret. chaehee approached him, his tone deceptively calm despite the chaos that had just transpired. “well,” chaehee said, his voice cold but tinged with a hint of approval, “this was your best idea, i will admit.”

hansol’s eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and anger. “thank you,” he replied quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “your majesty.”

chaehee gave him a curt nod. “you’ve earned my trust,” he said, his gaze icy. “remember that.”

with that, he retreated back into the palace, leaving hansol alone in the courtyard. the scene before him was a tableau of destruction and grief, the once vibrant and bustling palace now a place of death and mourning. as the last echoes of baekhyun’s cries faded away, hansol stood in the midst of the carnage, his heart heavy with the weight of the events that had unfolded. the courtyard, now eerily silent, was a reminder of the ruthlessness that had taken hold of the palace. the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the bodies of baekhyun and taeyeon, their lives extinguished by the cruel machinations of betrayal.

the courtyard was suffused with a chilling silence, the aftermath of the brutal executions leaving an air heavy with despair and loss. namjoon’s once steady composure had shattered, replaced by a raw, unrestrained panic. his face was a mask of anguish, his eyes wide and unseeing as he staggered through the wreckage of the palace grounds.

as he moved, his steps were erratic, a desperate rhythm that seemed to echo the frantic beats of his heart. the weight of baekhyun’s death was too much to bear, each step carrying the burden of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams. his cries were guttural, an expression of the profound grief that consumed him. his usually strong demeanor was now reduced to a quivering, lost soul.

you watched from the sidelines, your own heart breaking as you recalled every moment with baekhyun—the memory of his playful taunts, his innocent laughter, the times you fought with him over trivial matters, and the confession of love that had been so unexpected yet sincere. the vivid recollections were overwhelming, a cruel reminder of the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

tears streamed down your face as you followed namjoon, each step feeling like an agonizing journey through a landscape of sorrow. the images of baekhyun, so full of life, seemed to blend with the sight of his lifeless body lying in the courtyard. the contrast was jarring, the vibrant memories now mingling with the stark reality of his death. you wished to take it all back, to give everything for just another minute of him showing you his toys, or fighting with you, or even confessing.

eventually, your legs gave out beneath you. you collapsed to the ground, the weight of your emotions too much to bear. without thinking, you threw your arms around namjoon, pulling him into a desperate embrace. the contact was a small comfort, a fleeting moment of shared grief amidst the overwhelming chaos. namjoon’s body shook with his sobs, his head resting heavily against your shoulder.

hansol, who had been silently battling his own guilt, stumbled over to where you and namjoon were huddled. his tears flowed freely, mingling with his sweat and grime. he had seen the destruction he had helped bring about, and the burden of his actions was too much to bear. he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched namjoon’s shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

daniel emerged from the shadows, his face a portrait of numbness and pain. his steps were mechanical, his eyes focused on his brother’s lifeless form. younghyun and yeosang joined them, their expressions mirroring the profound grief that enveloped the courtyard. they stood together, united in their sorrow, their hearts heavy with the weight of the day’s events.

the group formed a somber circle around you and namjoon, each person grappling with their own grief. the only sound was the occasional sob, the soft rustling of the wind, and the distant murmur of the palace’s remaining inhabitants. the atmosphere was suffused with a deep, aching silence, punctuated only by the sounds of your and namjoon’s grief.

amidst the chaos, namjoon’s voice emerged, hoarse and trembling. “sing,” he pleaded, his words barely more than a whisper. “please, sing.”

you were momentarily dazed and confused, the request seeming almost surreal amidst the overwhelming sadness. but as your eyes fell on baekhyun’s lifeless body, the weight of the moment became unbearable. you choked on a sob, the finality of the sight threatening to drown you in sorrow.

with a deep breath, you closed your eyes and began to sing. the melody that emerged was one of deep sorrow and aching beauty, a song that seemed to resonate with the collective pain of everyone present. it was a hauntingly beautiful tune, one that spoke of loss and longing, a melody that had been passed down through generations, its origins lost to time. the song wove through the air, carrying with it the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. it was a melody that spoke to the soul, a haunting lullaby that touched on the deepest corners of grief. as you sang, your voice quivered, each note a testament to the heartache that pervaded the courtyard.

namjoon clung to you, his tears mixing with yours as he listened to the song. hansol, daniel, younghyun, and yeosang all wept openly, their cries blending with the sorrowful notes of your melody. the scene was a powerful tableau of collective mourning, each person united in their grief, their pain momentarily alleviated by the soothing balm of your song.

the melody seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around the gathered mourners like a comforting embrace. it was a song that would be remembered, a testament to the love and loss that had marked this tragic day. “tonight, i'll send you the firefly from that day, to your window, i hope you have sweet dreams,” as the final notes faded into the evening air, the silence that followed was heavy but filled with a sense of bittersweet closure. you knew that baekhyun, wherever he was, would be listening. maybe, by his window. maybe, in his sweet dreams.

the sky above the river stream had deepened into a twilight blue, the last vestiges of daylight casting a gentle glow over the water. the river, once a place of daily tasks and fleeting moments, had become a sanctuary, a quiet refuge from the storm of recent events. the soothing murmur of the stream filled the space between you and namjoon, creating a serene backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding between you.

you and namjoon had wandered here together, the path illuminated by the soft, shimmering light of the setting sun. the air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stifling heat of the palace. as you approached the river’s edge, you could feel the tension of the past days easing, replaced by a tender calm that settled between you. namjoon stood close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walked. his presence was comforting, a steady anchor amidst the tension that had surrounded both of you. when you reached the spot where you had first served him lunch, the memories of that day seemed to merge with the present, creating a poignant sense of continuity.

the river flowed gently, its surface catching the last golden rays of the sun, creating a dance of light and shadow that played across the water. the tranquility of the scene seemed to soothe the remnants of distress in your heart, and you found yourself gazing at namjoon, a soft smile on your lips.

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. the turmoil of recent days, the losses, the betrayals—all seemed to vanish in the face of this simple, serene moment. he stepped closer, his gaze steady and affectionate. “what is it about this place?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. “why do you love the river so much?”

namjoon’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the stream. “it’s quiet here,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “everything slows down. there’s no noise, no demands—just the sound of the water and the peace it brings.”

you nodded, understanding his sentiment. the river had always been a haven, a place where one could escape the clamor of palace life and find solace in nature’s embrace. “i wish we could run away,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “find a place where we could be free from all of this.” namjoon’s eyes darkened with determination. “we will,” he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. “just wait until i’m given the throne. once i’m in a position of power, we’ll leave together. find our own place, somewhere peaceful.”

his words were a promise, a beacon of hope that illuminated the uncertainty of the future. the idea of escaping the constraints of the palace and starting anew with namjoon filled you with a sense of hope and anticipation. it was a dream that seemed within reach, a future that you could look forward to with him by your side. as the evening sky deepened, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your face. rhe touch was tender, his fingers warm against your skin. his gaze was filled with a mixture of love and longing, and before you could fully process the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss was soft and sweet, a gentle exploration that conveyed all the emotions neither of you could put into words. it was a kiss filled with promise and affection, a tender connection that spoke of the future you both hoped to build together. the world around you seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, your heart racing with a mixture of joy and relief.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a depth of feeling that made your heart ache with happiness. “i love you,” he said softly, his voice a caress against the stillness of the evening. the evening drew on, the sky slowly darkening into night. as you sat by the river, the two of you shared a quiet, tender moment that was both a balm for your weary souls and a promise of brighter days to come.

the night had settled into an oppressive silence, a heaviness that seemed to weigh down every corner of the palace. chaehee lay in his bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around him like a shroud. his eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness as if willing it to offer him some reprieve. the voices—baekhyun’s and taehyung’s—haunted him with their pleading, their cries for help echoing through his mind with a cruel, relentless intensity.

he tossed and turned, the hallucinations of baekhyun and taehyung becoming more vivid with each passing hour. their faces, twisted in anguish, appeared at the edge of his vision, their voices growing louder, more insistent. “let us out!” they begged, their words a constant, desperate refrain. “help us! save us!”

chaehee’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding erratically as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him. he could see their ghostly forms moving around him, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and accusation. his room seemed to close in on him, the shadows lengthening and darkening, becoming oppressive barriers he could not escape.

he screamed, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to tear from his very soul. his scream echoed through the empty corridors, a reflection of his inner turmoil. his screams were a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating grip of his own mind, but they only served to amplify his sense of isolation. the more he fought to silence the voices, the louder they seemed to grow, until they were a cacophony of despair that reverberated through his entire being.

as the night wore on, chaehee’s mind became a battleground of fear and remorse. he knew that his actions had sealed his fate, that the lives lost were a direct consequence of his ruthless ambitions. the visions and voices seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for power.

in your own room, the night was less tumultuous but no less fraught with anxiety. the visions of namjoon’s future, the one you had glimpsed with such dread, played on a loop in your mind. the knowledge that he might become the next king, his victory won at the cost of his brothers’ lives, was a heavy burden to bear. you wrestled with your fear and uncertainty, wondering if you could trust him or if he was doomed to repeat the same path of bloodshed and betrayal. the possibility of changing his destiny seemed both daunting and necessary.

as you lay in bed, lost in these thoughts, you heard a soft rustling. your heart skipped a beat as you realized someone was in your room. namjoon’s silhouette emerged from the darkness, his presence both a comfort and a cause for anxiety. his eyes, usually so confident, were shadowed with an intensity that spoke of his own inner conflict.

he approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and gentle. “i wanted to see you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the darkness. you blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleep and confusion. “why?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

namjoon climbed into your bed, his body warm against yours. he kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his gaze. the kiss deepened, his hands moving to cradle your face as he explored the contours of your lips. you blushed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “your highness, this isn’t right,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as his hands roamed down your body. his touch was both electrifying and disorienting, a physical affirmation of the emotions you had been grappling with.

his hands found their way to the sash of your robe, deftly untying it and revealing your naked body to the cool night air. you gasped as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your erect nipples. the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you felt your body respond despite your mind’s reservations. namjoon’s hand slid down further, his fingers teasing the wetness between your legs. “you want this as much as i do,” he whispered, his voice filled with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

his mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving deep as he ground his hips against yours. you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, and it was a feeling that both thrilled and intimidated you. his kisses grew more insistent, his hands more demanding. your resolve crumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the world outside your chamber was forgotten as you gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

his fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer to the edge of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, and you found yourself whispering his name. he chuckled darkly, the sound a heady mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “say it louder,” he urged, his voice thick with lust. “say it like you mean it, like you want me to claim you completely.” you moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he claimed you with a fierce kiss. your body arched off the bed, and you clutched at his shoulders as the first waves of pleasure crashed over you.

namjoon’s touch grew rougher, his kisses more possessive. he pulled away, his eyes blazing with desire. “i meant when i said you were mine, nobody else's,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper that sent a thrill of fear through your body. your eyes widened, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself nodding, your body eager for the release he offered. he positioned himself over you, his large cock nudging against your wet entrance. without a word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, the sound echoing through the silent room.

his thrusts were deep and powerful, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. the pain and pleasure melded together, creating a symphony of sensations that had you gripping the bed sheets. your body responded to his rough handling, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the harsh pants of your shared passion.

his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. “let go for me, my lady,” he grunted, his teeth grazing your earlobe. the dirty talk sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself tighten around him, your orgasm building rapidly.

the tension grew, a coil in your belly that threatened to snap at any moment. and then it did, sending you spiraling over the edge with a scream that was muffled by his mouth. namjoon’s own release followed quickly, his warmth filling you completely. he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.

the silence that followed was tense, filled with the thundering of your hearts and the harshness of your breathing. the reality of what had just transpired settled over you like a shroud, and you felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to pervade the very air around you. you knew that this moment of passion would have consequences, consequences that could change the course of your lives forever. but for now, all you could do was lie there, wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, and hope that somehow, you could find a way out.

hansol stood silently behind the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the muffled sounds of your whispers and namjoon’s low voice. every word that reached his ears felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, a bitter confirmation of the betrayal he never imagined he would face. you were the woman he wanted, the woman he loved, and now namjoon was taking you from him. the realization sent a wave of anger and despair crashing over him, leaving him reeling.

his face twisted into a grimace, the bitterness in his heart hardening into resolve. he wasn’t going to lose you to namjoon, not to someone he viewed as a brother but who was now his rival in the cruelest of ways. hansol knew he had to act, to do something to stop this from happening. he needed to ensure that namjoon wouldn’t take you away, that you wouldn’t be lost to him.

with his mind set, hansol turned on his heel and made his way down the shadowed corridors of the palace, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. he reached chaehee’s chambers, where the once-powerful king lay weak and frail, his body ravaged by the consequences of his own actions. the room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the walls.

hansol hesitated for a moment at the door, but the memory of what he had just heard pushed him forward. he entered quietly, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed where chaehee lay, his breath shallow and labored. “your majesty,” hansol began, his voice a low murmur, careful not to disturb the frail king too much. “i’ve come with news that you need to hear.”

chaehee’s eyes, glazed with pain and fatigue, flickered toward hansol. there was a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. finally, chaehee gave a faint nod, indicating for him to continue. “it’s about namjoon,” hansol said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. “he plans to marry nabi and take her away.”

for a moment, chaehee’s expression remained blank, as if the words didn’t quite register. then, slowly, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—ignited in his dull eyes. his lips twitched, and he managed to whisper through the dryness of his throat, “that won’t happen.”

hansol’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched chaehee struggle to form the words. “your majesty, what is wrong? you don’t look well.” but chaehee didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand and gestured weakly toward a nearby table. hansol followed the gesture and noticed a piece of paper and a quill, both items seemingly insignificant but now imbued with a sense of urgency. with great effort, chaehee pulled himself up just enough to take hold of the quill, his movements shaky and deliberate.

hansol watched in growing alarm as chaehee, his breathing labored, began to write on the piece of paper. the scratching of the quill against the parchment seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sound that seemed almost foreboding in its finality. hansol stepped closer, wanting to offer help, but something held him back—an instinct that told him this moment was too important to interrupt.

chaehee’s hand moved slowly, his writing growing more erratic as he struggled against his failing strength. his face was a mask of concentration, the last reserves of his willpower being channeled into this one act. hansol’s concern deepened as he noticed the king’s eyes growing more distant, as if he were slipping away even as he wrote.

and then, as if on cue, chaehee’s body gave out. the quill slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the table as his hand went limp. his body collapsed against the pillows, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. hansol rushed to his side, panic flaring in his chest as he reached out to support the king. “your majesty!” his voice was urgent, his hand shaking as he tried to rouse chaehee. but the king’s eyes were closed, his face pale and slick with sweat. the hallucinations that had plagued him, that had driven him to the edge, seemed to have claimed him at last.

hansol’s heart raced as he realized chaehee’s condition was far worse than he had imagined. but then, his eyes fell on the piece of paper, still resting on the table where chaehee had been writing. the ink was smudged in places, evidence of chaehee’s trembling hand, but the words were clear enough to read.

hansol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the contents of the note. It was a decree, hastily written but legally binding. the words declared namjoon as the next king, a title that would come with immense power and responsibility. but it was the second part of the note that made hansol’s blood run cold. chaehee had written that namjoon was to be married off to the khitan, a fate that would take him far from the palace, far from you.

hansol’s mind raced as he processed the implications. chaehee, even in his weakened state, had seen the threat that namjoon posed and had taken steps to neutralize it. but as hansol stood there, holding the fragile piece of parchment, a dark sense of satisfaction crept over him. namjoon would be taken care of—sent away, out of the picture. and you…you would be free from him, free to be with hansol as he had always wanted.

the air was heavy with tension as namjoon stood in the lit chamber, his heart pounding in his chest. the words hansol had just spoken reverberated in his mind, each syllable slicing through him like a blade. he felt as though the walls were closing in around him, the weight of his impending coronation and the marriage decree crushing his spirit. this was supposed to be the culmination of everything he had worked for, everything he had endured. but now, the path to the throne was stained with betrayal.

hansol’s expression was cold, calculated, as he watched namjoon grapple with the reality of what he had just been told. the two men stood facing each other, their silhouettes stark against the flickering candlelight, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.

“this isn’t what i want,” namjoon finally said, his voice strained but steady. “i have no desire to marry a girl from khitan. this was never part of my plan.” hansol’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “these are the king’s last wishes, mamjoon. if you want to be crowned, you’ll have to honor them. there’s no way around it.”

namjoon’s jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. the weight of the crown he had sought for so long now felt like a shackle around his neck, dragging him into a fate he wanted no part of. “i already have someone i wish to marry,” he said, his voice low but firm, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real. hansol raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “oh? and who might that be?” his tone was laced with false curiosity, a venomous edge lurking beneath the surface.

namjoon met his gaze without flinching. “nabi. i want to marry nabi.”

there was a beat of silence, the air between them crackling with tension. hansol’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, it was a twisted smirk, a reflection of the bitterness that had taken root in his heart. “you mean to say,” hansol began, his voice dripping with condescension, “that you’ve set your sights on the same woman i intended to marry?”

namjoon’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “what are you talking about?” hansol chuckled darkly, the sound filled with a bitter satisfaction. he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “she was mine first, namjoon. did you know that? before you came along and swept her off her feet, she was going to marry me. she was the one who held my heart.”

namjoon’s heart clenched, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he had known there were others who cared for you, who admired you from afar. but hansol? the man he had considered a friend, a brother? he had never imagined that hansol had harbored feelings for you, let alone that he had planned to marry you.

“is that true?” namjoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched hansol’s face for any sign of deceit. hansol’s expression was unwavering, his eyes hard as steel. “it’s the truth,” he said simply, as if stating a fact that should have been obvious. “but then you came along, and everything changed. she forgot all about me, all about what we had. you took her from me.”

namjoon felt a cold knot of guilt form in the pit of his stomach. he had always known that his rise to power would come at a cost, that there would be sacrifices along the way. but this? he had never wanted to hurt hansol, never wanted to come between him and someone he cared about. the realization that he had unknowingly done just that twisted his insides in knots. he looked away, unable to meet hansol’s gaze. “i can't believe it,” namjoon said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “she liked you first.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered,” hansol interrupted, his voice sharp. “because she chose you. and now, you’re going to marry someone else.” namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling from the weight of hansol’s words. the betrayal, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to bear. but what choice did he have? the crown, the throne, it was all within his grasp, and yet it felt like it was slipping away from him. the price of power was steep, and he was starting to realize just how much he would have to pay.

his face went stoic, the emotions that had been swirling inside him now buried deep beneath a mask of cold resolve. if this was what needed to be done to secure his future, then so be it. he would marry the girl from khitan. he would honor the late king’s wishes. and he would become the next king, no matter what it cost him. “fine,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion as he forced himself to meet hansol’s gaze. “proceed with the wedding.”

hansol’s eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips returning. “as you wish, your majesty,” he said with a mock bow, his words laced with bitterness. but even as he spoke, a flicker of something else—something darker—passed over his face. satisfaction, perhaps, or the satisfaction of knowing that he had dealt a blow to namjoon that would leave another lasting scar.

the corridors of the palace felt colder, more oppressive, as you moved through them with a heaviness in your chest. it had been days since the intimate confrontation with namjoon, and his words still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the love shared between you. you had known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity brought with it.

when you entered the chamber, you found namjoon waiting for you. he stood by the window, his back to you, his broad shoulders tense beneath his royal robes. the light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, and the air was thick with unspoken words. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should approach. but before you could make a decision, namjoon turned to face you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were filled with a mixture of hurt and anger that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“is it true?” he asked, his voice low and strained, as though it pained him to speak. “is it true that you wanted to marry hansol?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to find out. you hadn’t even been sure of your own feelings until it was too late. but now, with namjoon standing before you, the reality of the situation was impossible to avoid. “yes,” you whispered, the confession slipping out like a broken promise. “it’s true.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice rising with barely restrained anger. “how could you do this to me? how could you hurt me like this?”

“i didn’t mean to—” you started, but namjoon cut you off, his voice trembling with emotion. “didn’t mean to? do you have any idea what you’ve done?” his eyes bore into yours, searching for answers you couldn’t give. “i thought you loved me. i thought we had a future together.”

your heart shattered at the accusation in his voice. you had loved him—still loved him, even now—but the tangled web of emotions and loyalties had twisted everything into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. “i did love you,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “i still do. but i was confused. hansol, he—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” namjoon snapped, turning away from you as though the sight of you was too painful to bear. “i don’t ever want to see you again.”

the finality in his words was like a knife to your heart. you reached out, desperate to touch him, to hold onto something of what you once had, but namjoon stepped back, his expression cold and distant. “please, namjoon,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “don’t do this. we can—”

“it’s over,” he said sharply, cutting you off once more. “whatever we had, it’s over.” you stood there, frozen in place as namjoon walked out of the room, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your own mistakes. the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you collapsed onto the floor, your sobs echoing through the empty chamber.

days turned into weeks, and the pain of namjoon’s rejection lingered, festering like an open wound. despite your efforts to reach him, to explain, namjoon ignored you at every turn. he avoided your gaze, refused to acknowledge your presence, and any time you tried to speak with him, he would simply turn and walk away, leaving you feeling more alone than ever. then came the day of the wedding.

you stood in the crowd, watching with a hollow feeling in your chest as namjoon exchanged vows with the girl from khitan. she was beautiful, regal, everything a queen should be. but as you looked at her, all you could feel was a deep, aching sorrow, knowing that it should have been you standing beside namjoon, promising to be his for the rest of your life. you tried to force a smile, to show support, but the tears in your eyes betrayed your true feelings. and even as namjoon took his new bride’s hand and led her into the palace, he never once looked in your direction. you felt as though you were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of your own heartache. but you swallowed it down, determined to find a way to move on, to survive the pain that threatened to consume you.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the first wave of nausea hit. you had been going about your duties, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest, when the world suddenly spun, and you had to clutch the edge of a table to keep from collapsing. the nausea was overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were rushing to the nearest chamber pot, heaving up everything you had eaten that morning.

at first, you dismissed it as nothing more than stress, a reaction to the emotional turmoil you had been enduring. but as the days went on, and the nausea continued, a new, terrifying realization began to take root in your mind. you were pregnant.

panic seized you, and for a long moment, you couldn’t breathe. the implications of this—of carrying namjoon’s child—were too overwhelming to process. you had no idea what to do, who to turn to. but then, one name came to mind, the only person you could trust with this secret.

your hands trembled as you sought him out, your heart pounding in your chest as you found him in one of the palace corridors. he turned to you with a smile, but the moment he saw the look on your face, his expression shifted to one of concern. “what’s wrong?” daniel asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to touch your arm.

you looked up at him, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “i think i’m pregnant.”

for a moment, daniel was silent, his expression unreadable as he processed the news. but then, to your surprise, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms strong and comforting around you. “it’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “i’m here. i’ll help you through this.”

you clung to him, burying your face in his shoulder as the weight of your situation threatened to overwhelm you. his presence was like a lifeline, anchoring you in a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to navigate. “but what am i going to do?” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. “should i tell namjoon?”

daniel hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “no. he just got married. if you tell him now, it’ll only make things worse. people will think you’re a wench, something awful could happen.” the truth in his words stung, but you knew he was right. if word got out that you were carrying namjoon’s child, it would be a scandal of epic proportions, one that could ruin not just your life, but namjoon’s as well.

“then what should i do?” you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. daniel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “you’ll have to marry someone else,” he said quietly. “pretend the baby is theirs.”

the very thought of it made your heart ache. the idea of marrying someone else, of lying about the child growing inside you, was almost too much to bear. but what choice did you have? there was no other way to protect yourself, to protect namjoon. “who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “who could i marry?”

daniel’s gaze was steady, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke the next words. “marry me.”

your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. of all the people you had considered, daniel had never been one of them. he was your friend, your confidant, but you had never thought of him in that way. and yet, as you looked into his eyes, you saw the depth of his feelings for you, feelings he had kept hidden for so long. “daniel,” you began, but he shook his head, silencing you with a gentle smile.

“it’s okay,” he said softly. “i’ve cared about you for a long time. if this is the only way i can be with you, then I’m willing to do it.”

tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, overwhelmed by his selflessness, by the depth of his love for you. and in that moment, you knew there was no one else you could trust more. you threw your arms around him, holding him tight as the tears finally spilled over. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “thank you so much.”

he held you close, his arms strong and comforting around you. so good did it feel for him, to finally embrace the woman everybody seemed to love. he knew you didn't love him but, in your embrace, it didn't seem to matter. it didn't seem to hurt as much as he thought it would. he could accept everything—your child, namjoon's anger, hansol's resentment. he could take it all, if it meant he could take you.

the palace was quiet in the late afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the tall windows and casting soft shadows on the polished floors. it was a peace that was deceptive, a calm that masked the turbulent emotions brewing just beneath the surface. namjoon sat at his desk, staring down at a map of the kingdom, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts he couldn’t escape. the lines on the map blurred as his mind wandered, his focus slipping away as a dull ache settled in his chest.

it had been weeks since he had last seen you, weeks that felt like an eternity. he had tried to push you from his mind, to drown himself in the duties of the court, but nothing could erase the memory of your confession, of the way you had looked at him with tears in your eyes as you admitted the truth. the pain of that moment was still fresh, a wound that refused to heal, and no matter how much he tried to bury it, it continued to gnaw at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

the door to his chambers creaked open, and namjoon barely registered the sound. he was too lost in his thoughts, too consumed by the weight of his own heartbreak. but when he heard the familiar voice of hansol, he slowly lifted his gaze, his expression guarded. “your highness,” hansol greeted, stepping into the room with a grim expression. he closed the door behind him, his movements slow and deliberate as if he were bracing himself for something unpleasant. “i have news.”

namjoon’s heart sank at the tone in hansol’s voice. there was a heaviness to it that made his chest tighten with unease, but he forced himself to remain composed, to keep his emotions in check. “what is it?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. hansol hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from namjoon as if he were unsure how to proceed. but then he straightened, his expression hardening as he delivered the news.

“nabi and daniel are getting married.” the words struck namjoon like a fatal blow, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale. his grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. he had known this was coming. he had known the moment he had walked away from you that this would be the inevitable outcome. but hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the finality in hansol’s voice, made it all too real.

he felt something break inside him, a part of himself that had been holding on to hope, now shattered into a thousand pieces. but he couldn’t show it. he couldn’t let hansol see how much this news was destroying him from the inside out. “i don’t want any further updates,” namjoon said, his voice cold and distant, a mask of indifference that he had perfected over the years. he couldn’t bear to hear any more, couldn’t bear to know the details of your life with daniel. it was too much, too painful to even think about.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say next. namjoon’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and he saw the hesitation, the reluctance in hansol’s gaze. “there’s more,” hansol said slowly, his voice tinged with something that made namjoon’s heart begin to race. “she’s pregnant.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and for a moment, Namjoon felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. his mind went blank, the world around him fading into nothingness as the realization hit him like a tidal wave. pregnant.

it was a simple word, but it carried with it a weight that namjoon wasn’t sure he could bear. his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process what hansol had just told him. pregnant. you were pregnant. with his brother’s child. but even as the thought crossed his mind, namjoon felt a deep, instinctual denial rise within him. he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the child wasn’t daniel’s. it was his. he had always known, deep down, that you carried his child. but that knowledge brought no comfort, only a profound sense of despair.

he forced himself to remain silent, his expression giving nothing away even as his world crumbled around him. he had to hold it together, had to keep up the facade of indifference, no matter how much it tore him apart inside. “is there anything else?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. hansol’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching namjoon’s face for any sign of a reaction, but he found none. after a moment, he shook his head. “no, your highness. that’s all.”

namjoon nodded curtly, signaling that the conversation was over. hansol hesitated for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more, but when namjoon remained silent, he gave a small bow and left the room, closing the door behind him. the moment hansol was gone, namjoon let out a shaky breath, his composure finally crumbling as the full weight of what he had just heard settled over him. he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears at bay. But it was no use. the pain was too much, the heartbreak too overwhelming.

he stood there, staring blankly at the map on his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the child you carried. his child. and yet, he had no claim to either of you. he had lost you, lost everything, and now he was left with nothing but the hollow ache in his chest. despite his resolve to move on, to forget, namjoon couldn’t help but think of the days you had spent by the stream, waiting for him. he knew you had sent him letters, countless letters that remained unopened, sitting in a drawer in his chambers. he couldn’t bring himself to read them, couldn’t bring himself to face the reality of what he had lost. but every time he thought of you waiting for him by the stream, hope in your eyes, it tore him apart all over again. and then, there was the birth of your child.

namjoon heard the news through the palace gossip, the whispers of servants and courtiers that reached his ears despite his attempts to shut it all out. you had given birth to a baby girl, a beautiful little girl who, by all accounts, looked just like him. the thought of it made his heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable. he could picture her in his mind, a tiny, innocent child with his features, a child who would never know him as her father. it was a pain that cut deeper than anything he had ever known, a wound that would never heal.

and yet, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to see you. he couldn’t bring himself to open the letters, to go to the stream where you had waited for him, to acknowledge the life that was now a part of this world. it was easier to pretend that none of it existed, easier to bury the pain deep inside where no one could see it. but that didn’t stop the nights from being long and sleepless, didn’t stop the dreams that haunted him, the dreams of a life that could have been. a life where he was with you, where you were by his side, and where your daughter knew him as her father. a life that had been ripped away from him the moment he had let you go.

you held your newborn daughter in your arms, your heart full of a bittersweet love. she was perfect, with her tiny fingers and soft, downy hair, and when you looked into her eyes, you saw namjoon’s reflection staring back at you. it was a reminder of the love that had once burned so brightly between you, a love that had now faded into nothingness. but despite the pain, despite the heartache that lingered in your chest, you found solace in the presence of your daughter, in the way daniel held her with such care, his love for her as strong as if she were his own. he had taken on the role of her father without hesitation, without question, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

yet, every time you looked at your daughter, every time you saw the way she smiled up at you with namjoon’s eyes, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. what your life could have been like if things had been different. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the present, on the life you had now. it wasn’t the one you had dreamed of, but it was a life you could live with.

the days had become a blur of pain and exhaustion, your body growing weaker with each passing moment. the fever had set in shortly after the birth, your strength sapped as your body struggled to recover. you had given so much, poured everything you had into bringing namjoon’s child into the world, but now there was nothing left. the room around you seemed to swim in and out of focus, the walls closing in as the sickness took hold.

daniel stayed by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort even as the reality of your situation weighed heavily on him. he was the only one who truly understood, the only one who saw just how close to the edge you were. he watched you with a heart full of sorrow, his eyes tracing the pallor of your skin, the tremor in your hands. you were slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

as the last of the daylight faded from the sky, daniel stood at the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed on you as you lay there, so fragile and pale. he had promised to watch over you, to stay with you through whatever came, but the sight of you like this—so close to death—was almost more than he could bear. his heart ached with a pain he couldn’t put into words, a pain that only grew with each shallow breath you took. he turned away, unable to watch you suffer any longer, and as he did, the tears he had been holding back slipped from his eyes. how cruel was fate, to give him everything he had ever wanted—if only for a fleeting moment—only to snatch it away? he had loved you with every part of himself, had dreamed of a life where you and the child you had brought into the world would be his to cherish. but now, that dream was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

you knew the end was close, felt it in the way your body had begun to fail you, in the heaviness that weighed down your limbs, in the way each breath came a little harder than the last. the fever had taken its toll, and you were too weak to fight it any longer. you knew it would all soon be over, that the life you had known, the love you had shared, was slipping away. but there was one thing left to do.

with what little strength you had left, you forced yourself to sit up, your vision swimming as you did. every movement was agony, every breath a struggle, but you pushed through it, knowing that this would be your final act. your hands shook as you reached for the quill and parchment that sat on the table beside your bed, the ink blotting as you dipped the quill and began to write. it was a simple letter, the words coming slowly, each one a battle to put down on the page. but you wrote with a determination born of love, knowing that this was the last chance you would have to say what needed to be said. the words blurred in front of you as tears filled your eyes, but you pressed on, your hand trembling as you scrawled your final message.

when you were done, you could barely breathe, your chest tight with the effort it had taken to finish the letter. you called out weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper, and a guard appeared at the door, his face softening with sympathy as he took in the sight of you. you handed him the letter, your fingers trembling as you did. “please,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “make sure it’s delivered.”

the guard nodded, his expression full of pity as he took the letter from you. “of course, my lady,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. he knew, just as you did, that this would be the last letter you ever wrote.

with that final task complete, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, the pain and the fear ebbing away, leaving only a profound sense of exhaustion. you knew the end was near, but you weren’t afraid. not anymore.

you managed to push yourself up from the bed, your body trembling with the effort, and made your way slowly to the door. daniel was sitting on the steps outside, his head in his hands, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. when he heard your footsteps, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he saw you standing there, so frail and weak, but still fighting. he rose to his feet as you approached, his heart breaking at the sight of you. he could see it in your eyes, the knowledge that the end was near, that there was nothing left to fight for. and yet, you had come to him, had found the strength to leave your bed, to be with him one last time.

you sank down beside him on the steps, your body sagging with exhaustion, and rested your head on his shoulder. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close, his heart aching with a pain that was almost unbearable. he could feel how cold you were, how weak your breathing had become, and it took everything in him not to break down right then and there.

“are you really leaving me like this?” daniel asked, his voice choked with emotion as he leaned his head against the top of yours. he knew the answer, could see it in your eyes, but he needed to hear it, needed you to say it out loud, even if it would tear him apart. you couldn’t respond, your throat too tight with emotion, the tears that slipped from your eyes too painful to bear. you could only cry, the tears staining his fingers as he held you close, his heart breaking with every sob that wracked your frail body.

“will you forget me?” daniel’s voice broke as he asked the question, the words tinged with a desperation that cut you to the core. “when you’re gone, will you forget me?” you shook your head weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you answered, “i could never forget you. not even in my dreams, not even in death.”

the words were almost too much for him to bear, and he choked back a sob as he pressed his face into your hair, his tears soaking the strands. he had always known this day would come, had always known that the time he had with you would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t make the pain any less. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your apology. “i’m so sorry. it’s too much. i can’t stay.”

your eyes were growing heavy, the world around you beginning to fade as the exhaustion took hold. you could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of your vision blurring as you struggled to stay awake, to stay with him just a little longer. daniel felt the change in you, felt the way your body was growing limp against him, and he knew that the end was near. he had known it was coming, had seen it in your eyes, but now that it was here, now that he was about to lose you, the pain was almost too much to bear.

with trembling hands, he began to sing, his voice soft and broken as he sang the same song you had sung to him when baekhyun had died. it was a lullaby, a song of love and loss, of comfort in the face of unbearable pain. and as the words left his lips, he could feel you slipping away, your body growing heavier, your breathing more shallow. he had sent the firefly from that day, to your window, hoping you'd have sweet dreams. a final tear slipped from your eyes, trailing down your cheek as you let out one last breath. the world went black, the pain and the fear fading away as you sank into the darkness, your head resting on daniel’s lap as the life left your body.

daniel’s voice faltered as he felt you go, his heart breaking as he realized that you were gone. he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, the tears streaming down his face as he pressed his lips to your hair, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. but there was no response, no warmth left in your body, no breath left in your lungs. you were gone, and all that was left was the hollow ache of loss, the unbearable weight of grief that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

hansol walked the halls of the palace with a heaviness in his steps, each one dragging more than the last. his heart weighed down with a sorrow that he couldn't begin to express. his normally sharp and composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a broken expression that seemed to drain the color from his face. every breath felt like a struggle as he made his way to namjoon’s chambers, the words he would soon have to say churning in his gut like poison.

when he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering above the wooden surface. he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to tell namjoon the news that would shatter his world. but there was no delaying it, no way to soften the blow. the truth had to be told. with a trembling hand, hansol pushed the door open and stepped inside. namjoon was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on some documents, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. the moment namjoon saw hansol’s face, he knew something was wrong.

“what is it now, hansol?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation, though there was an undercurrent of concern that he couldn't hide. he set down his quill, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of hansol’s distraught expression.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward namjoon, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. when he was only a few paces away, he dropped to his knees, the sound of his knees hitting the floor echoing through the chamber. namjoon’s irritation evaporated in an instant, replaced by alarm. “hansol?” his voice was softer now, a hint of fear creeping in as he leaned forward, trying to see his face. “what’s the matter? what happened?”

it was then that hansol broke down, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over as he knelt there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t bring himself to look up at namjoon as the weight of his grief overwhelmed him.

“hansol, speak to me,” namjoon’s voice rose in panic as he stood, moving toward his friend. “what’s going on? why are you crying?” hansol forced himself to look up, his tear-streaked face contorted with agony. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. he took a shuddering breath, trying to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

“nabi’s gone,” he finally whispered, his voice broken. “she’s dead, namjoon.”

namjoon froze, the words not registering at first. he stared down at hansol, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. “what?” namjoon’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. “that’s not possible. you’re lying.”

hansol shook his head, his tears falling freely now. “i’m not lying, namjoon. she’s gone. she died after giving birth. she was too weak, she couldn’t—she didn’t make it.”

namjoon’s world shattered in that moment. everything he had been living for, everything he had pushed aside, everything he had convinced himself he could endure—it all crumbled into dust. his chest tightened as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him gasping, struggling to breathe. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was raw, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and anger. “why didn’t anyone tell me?”

hansol’s gaze fell to the floor, his voice filled with guilt. “she tried, namjoon. she wrote to you, every day—so many letters, but you never opened them.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his gaze to the stack of unopened letters on his desk. his heart raced, and his hands trembled as he reached out, touching the letters as if they were some fragile thing that might shatter beneath his fingers. he picked up the top letter, his name written in your familiar handwriting, and his vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. his hands shook as he held the letter, knowing that inside were words you had written, words you had meant for him—words he had never read.

he didn’t even bother to open it. the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he dropped the letter, pushing away from the desk as if it had burned him. panic gripped him, and without another word, he ran from the room, his mind racing. he didn’t stop as he tore through the halls of the palace, the walls blurring around him as he sprinted toward daniel’s house. his heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he burst through the door, his voice hoarse with desperation.

“where is she?” namjoon called out, his eyes wild with panic as he looked around the empty room. “where is she? this isn’t funny! nabi, where are you?”

daniel appeared in the doorway, his face etched with sorrow as he watched namjoon’s frantic search. he knew this moment would come, knew that namjoon would finally learn the truth. but that didn’t make it any easier to see the man he once called his brother unravel before his eyes. “you’re too late,” daniel said softly, his voice heavy with grief. “she’s gone, namjoon. there’s nothing left.”

“no,” namjoon’s voice was a tortured cry as he turned on his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. “she can’t be gone. she’s here—i know she’s here. where is she?” daniel’s heart broke at the sight of his desperation, but he knew there was no other way to show him the truth. with a deep breath, he stepped aside, revealing the small urn on the table, filled with your ashes.

namjoon’s world came crashing down around him. the room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in as he stared at the vase, the reality of your death hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the overwhelming grief that tore through him.

“no,” namjoon’s voice cracked as he staggered forward, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. he collapsed to his knees before the table, his hands trembling as he reached out, cradling the vase in his arms. “please, no.” he hugged the vase to his chest, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth, his heart shattering into a million pieces. he called out your name, his voice broken and desperate, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back.

but there was no response. there was only silence, the cold, empty silence that followed death, and namjoon felt as if the very life had been drained from him. he had lost you—he had lost everything. as he wept, the sound of small footsteps echoed through the room. a little girl, no more than a few months old, toddled into the living room, her eyes wide with curiosity. she looked up at namjoon, her innocent face a mirror of his own, and in that moment, he knew. she looked just like him.

“where’s mommy?” the little girl asked, her voice soft and full of innocence as she stared up at namjoon with wide eyes. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of the child twisting the knife of grief even deeper. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to explain that you were gone, that you would never come back. all he could do was stare at her, his heart breaking all over again.

“she’s sick,” namjoon finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked at the little girl, tears streaming down his face. the little girl didn’t understand. she didn’t know what death was, didn’t know what it meant for someone to be gone forever. all she knew was that her mother wasn’t there, and she wanted to find her.

namjoon couldn’t bear it. the grief, the guilt, the regret—it all became too much. he stood up shakily, still clutching the vase of ashes, and stumbled toward the door. he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face the reality of what had happened. daniel watched him go, his own heart breaking at the sight of namjoon’s devastation. he knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain, nothing he could say to make it better. all he could do was watch as namjoon was escorted back to the palace by his own guards, his body wracked with sobs that wouldn’t stop.

namjoon couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he was led away. the weight of your death, the knowledge that he had lost you forever, was more than he could bear. he had lost you, lost the woman he loved, and all he had left was a daughter who would never know her father. and as he walked through the gates of the palace, the walls closing in around him, namjoon knew that he would never be the same. the grief would stay with him, haunting him for the rest of his days, a reminder of what he had lost, of the love he had let slip through his fingers.

the palace walls seemed to close in on namjoon as he sat at his desk, the unopened letters scattered around him like the remnants of a shattered life. the room, once a sanctuary of order and purpose, now felt like a prison, every shadow a reminder of his failures, every flickering candle a ghost of the past. the urn of your ashes rested beside him, a constant, suffocating reminder of the life he had lost—the life he had thrown away.

his trembling hands reached for the first letter, the paper crinkling slightly as he unfolded it. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he stared down at your familiar handwriting, the words blurring as tears filled his eyes. he had ignored these letters for so long, had turned his back on you when you needed him most, and now, it was too late. the weight of his guilt pressed down on him, making it almost impossible to read, but he forced himself to go on.

“my dearest namjoon,” the letter began, and his breath caught in his throat, a sob choking its way up as he read the words. he could read every word in your voice, as if you were still there, reading them to him. “i went to the stream again today, hoping that maybe this time, you would come. but you didn’t. you never do.”

each word cut through him like a knife, the pain of it almost unbearable. he could picture you there, waiting for him by the stream, your heart breaking a little more each day as he failed to show. the image of you standing there alone, waiting for a man who would never come, tore at his soul. his chest tightened, the sobs bubbling up from deep within, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

“i don’t know why i keep going,” the letter continued, the ink slightly smudged as if you had cried while writing it. “i suppose i keep hoping that one day, you’ll remember me, that you’ll remember what we had and come back to me. but i’m starting to lose hope, namjoon. i’m starting to think that maybe you’ve already forgotten me.”

namjoon’s heart broke anew with each word, his tears falling onto the paper, blurring the ink further. he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the thought that you had believed he had forgotten you, when in truth, you had never left his mind. he had tried to push you away, tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you, that he was better off without you—but it had all been a lie. and now, it was too late to tell you the truth. he picked up the next letter, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it. his sobs grew louder as he read, your words searing into his mind, leaving scars that would never heal.

“today was the hardest day yet,” you had written, the sadness in your words palpable. “i waited for hours by the stream, but you never came. i don’t know why i keep torturing myself like this, why i keep hoping for something that will never happen. but i can’t help it, your majesty. i can’t help but love you.”

the sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving with the force of his grief. he had done this to you—he had made you wait, made you suffer, and for what? for a throne that felt meaningless now, for power that had brought him nothing but pain. he had been a fool, blinded by ambition, and now, he was paying the price. letter after letter, he read about your heartbreak, your loneliness, your unending love for him despite everything. with each word, the guilt crushed him further, the tears flowing freely down his face, soaking the pages. he couldn’t stop reading, couldn’t stop the agony that tore through him as he realized just how deeply he had hurt you.

finally, he reached the last letter, the one dated for today. his hands shook violently as he unfolded it, his breath hitching in his throat. he didn’t want to read it—he couldn’t bear to—but he had to. It was the last thing you had ever written to him, and he owed you that much.

“if you are reading this, i am dead.”

the words hit him like a sledgehammer, and he let out a strangled cry, his vision going black at the edges as the reality of your death crashed over him. his hands clutched the paper so tightly that it crumpled beneath his fingers, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words you had left behind.

“is that what it takes to get you to read my letters? i was weak, i was the opposite of you. you were strong enough to walk away, to claim the throne. was it everything you've ever wanted? was it not enough, claiming my heart? i worry that i left you with hatred, instead of love.”

namjoon shook his head, the sobs ripping through him with a force that made his entire body shake. he hadn’t walked away because he was strong—he had walked away because he was a coward. he had been too afraid to face his feelings, too afraid to admit that he couldn’t live without you. and now, he would never get the chance to tell you that.

“i still love you. how could i ever forget you? hansol knows it, my husband knows it—everybody knows it, except you.”

the guilt was suffocating, the weight of his own blindness crushing him beneath it. you had loved him, despite everything, despite the pain he had caused you, and he had been too blind to see it. he had been so focused on his own ambitions, his own desires, that he had lost the one thing that truly mattered.

“i've learned that the opposite of loving isn't hating, but leaving. why do i wait by the stream, when i know you won't be there? why do I curse the stars for this fate, when it's the moon we are under? why do i love you, when it's you who has left me?”

namjoon could barely see the words through his tears, the paper blurring as his sobs grew louder, more desperate. he had left you—he had left you all alone to bear the burden of his absence, and now, he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life. the realization cut deeper than any blade, the pain of it almost unbearable.

“and now, i have to leave you. i have to leave you with the burden of having loved me.”

the sobs that tore through him were unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a raw, primal pain that echoed through the empty room. he cried your name, over and over, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back. but there was no response, no comfort to be found in the cold, empty air. the world around him fell away, leaving only the agony of your loss, the regret that would haunt him for the rest of his days. he had lost you—lost the one person who had ever truly loved him—and now, he was left with nothing but the ashes of what could have been.

he clutched the letter to his chest, his sobs filling the room as he rocked back and forth, the grief consuming him, tearing him apart piece by piece. he had lost you, and now, he would have to live with that pain, that regret, for the rest of his life. and as he cried, as he mourned the life he had thrown away, the only comfort he could find was the knowledge that, no matter what, you would always be nearby, under the moon.

you woke up with a start, your heart pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape. the familiar sound of chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead brought you back to reality—or what you thought was reality. you were back at work, standing behind the counter of your cosmetics shop in the bustling mall. the air was filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater, the carefully curated aroma of your traditionally made products. your hands moved automatically, arranging the small glass jars and wooden containers, but your mind was elsewhere, still trapped in the vivid memories of a life that felt too real to be a dream.

it was all too clear in your mind—the palace, the sweeping hanboks, the chilling touch of power and betrayal. you could still feel the weight of the crown on namjoon’s head, the sadness in daniel’s eyes, the coldness of the floor as you lay dying in his arms. the memories were so vivid, so heartbreakingly real, that it was hard to believe they weren’t your reality. you looked around the shop, expecting to see the grandeur of the royal palace, the opulence of a bygone era. but all you saw were customers milling about, people asking questions about the products, children tugging at their parents’ sleeves. there was no daniel, no namjoon, just the mundane, everyday life you had always known—or thought you had known.

“excuse me, do you know who the fourth king was?” a woman’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. she stood across the counter, examining a jar of cream with a polite curiosity, her eyes waiting expectantly for your answer.

you blinked, her question echoing in your mind as the memories surged forward, relentless. the name that came to your lips was not just a fact from history but a name that carried the weight of love, betrayal, and loss. your eyes widened, filling with unshed tears as the name slipped out, barely above a whisper. “gwangjong, kim namjoon.” the woman’s brows furrowed in concern, her voice softening. “are you okay?” but you couldn’t answer, couldn’t stay there any longer.

the walls of the mall felt like they were closing in on you, the faces around you blurring into one indistinguishable mass. you mumbled an apology, your voice trembling as you excused yourself, the jar of cream left abandoned on the counter. you stumbled out from behind the counter, your feet carrying you down the endless rows of displays, each step growing heavier as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

was it all a dream? a cruel trick played by your subconscious? or was it something more, something you couldn’t quite grasp? you ran a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp. you could still feel the coldness of namjoon’s touch, the warmth of his embrace, the pain that had clawed at your heart as you left him behind. the world around you spun, the bustling mall fading into the background as your mind struggled to reconcile the two realities. and then you saw it.

the sign loomed above you, its letters bold and unyielding: “songak art display.” your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at the sign, disbelief washing over you in waves. your feet moved on their own, carrying you inside as if drawn by an invisible force, by something deep within you that needed answers, that needed closure. the gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mall outside. the walls were lined with paintings, each one a window into a world long gone, yet eerily familiar. your eyes roamed over the art, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you searched for something—anything—that could explain what was happening to you. and then you found it.

a painting, large and imposing, hung in the center of the room, its colors dark and foreboding. the scene was one you knew all too well, one that had haunted your dreams and your waking hours alike. the execution of baekhyun, captured in painful detail. his eyes, wide with fear and regret, his hands bound, his body broken. the crowd surrounding him, their faces twisted in a mixture of sorrow and anger. you remembered it all—remembered the blood, the tears, the sound of the blade as it descended, cutting through the air with a finality that still echoed in your soul.

you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth as a sob tore its way out of your throat. it wasn’t just a painting—it was a memory, a fragment of a life that you had lived, that you had lost. you turned, your eyes scanning the gallery in a frantic search for something familiar, for something that could anchor you in this madness. and there they were.

king taejo and queen jiyoung, their regal figures immortalized in paint, their expressions as stern and unwavering as you remembered. you could almost hear their voices, the weight of their authority pressing down on you, demanding loyalty, demanding sacrifice. your legs gave out, and you sank to your knees in front of the paintings, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed, apologizing to nobody and nothing, the grief and guilt tearing through you like a storm. and then you saw him.

his face, so familiar, so heartbreakingly familiar, stared back at you from the canvas. kim namjoon, the fourth king, gwangjong. the man who had sacrificed everything for his brothers, who had grown up as a wolf and learned to be human. the man who had claimed your heart, only to break it. the plaque beneath the painting confirmed it, the words blurring through your tears as you read them. “kim namjoon, fourth king gwangjong. sacrificed everything for his brothers. grew up as a wolf, learned to be human. purge.”

you stared into his painted eyes, your heart breaking all over again as you whispered his name, the apology spilling from your lips as if he could hear you, as if he could somehow forgive you. “i'm so sorry,” you managed through your tears. “i'm so sorry for leaving you.” the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and the man you had loved, the man you had lost. the sobs wracked your body, your tears soaking the floor as you clung to the memory of him, to the memory of what you had shared, what you had lost. and then, a gentle tap on your shoulder brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the past that had consumed you.

you turned, your vision still blurred with tears, to see a man standing before you, his expression concerned, his hand outstretched with a tissue. for a moment, you didn’t recognize him, didn’t see past the veil of your grief. your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

you didn't recognize him. perhaps, not at first. not until you saw the scar. right across his eye.

✧.*

a/n: stop i lowkey cried LOL i didn't use the aired ending of scarlet heart tho bc i'm not a sociopath?

[meabh-mcinness]

A Price to Pay

Main Masterlist

When you and Professor Balam decided to take the Misfit class out on a field trip to survey items they were studying up close, you never expected that it would end like this.

I fully blame @acemoj85 for this. They came up with the idea one day and it wouldn't leave my head. Now everyone can experience the pain! Also please for the love of everything holy, unholy and in-between! READ! THE! TAGS! This is not a nice fic for good feels. There is no happy ending here (excluding the alternate ending because even I couldn't leave it there).

The streets of the demon city were a labyrinth of shadow and light, where the twilight hours blurred the line between the real and the fantastical. The marketplace was a living, breathing entity, alive with the hum of bartering voices, the clatter of hooves and claws on cobblestones, and the flicker of enchanted lanterns casting eerie glows across twisted architecture.

Among the bustling crowd, a small group of demons wove their way through the maze of stalls. At their head was a towering figure of a demon, easily twice the size of anyone else in his group. A flow of long white hair followed his massive frame as he lumbered forward, marking a way to go as everyone else dodged out of his way, even if he would never actually trample them. Beside him walked a figure cloaked in the traditional wear of a Babyls teacher, their features obscured by a carefully maintained illusion that made them appear as just another demon in the crowd. In reality, this was a human—a teacher at the esteemed academy of demons, where their true nature was a closely guarded secret by only a number of demons that could be counted on one hand.

Balam had to duck quite a few times to get through the crowd safely, though the way he parted the crowd was as unintentional as it was effective. He kept looking behind himself to make sure the kids were still following, his large form towering over them like a mother duck with her ducklings. He chuckled heartily when he noticed one of the kids had gotten distracted by a vendor selling jewellery.

Seeing the child distracted, he reached a large hand down and gently guided them with a soft and quiet “Come on, try to keep up.” The rest of the kids caught up, with a few giggling quietly at the one in front being ushered further along. He gave a soft smile behind his mask at the kids’ amusement, glad that they seemed to enjoy at least. But he continued through the crowd slowly, making sure the group stayed together to reach their destination

For them, this excursion was more than just an educational outing—it was a rare chance to explore the world beyond the academy's walls, to see the mystical and dangerous side of the demon world that they had only read about in books.

"Remember, we're here to study the different forms of binding crystals," you said, your voice calm yet firm, as you led the students toward a vendor's stall displaying an array of glowing crystals. Each one pulsed with a different kind of energy, from the warm golden hues of healing stones to the icy blues of containment gems. The students clustered around, eager to examine the crystals up close.

Balam nodded in agreement with the statement - though he kept an eye on the students around the gems. Some, though he had to admit not all, he knew were rather impulsive and would have to be watched to prevent them from doing something hasty. Namely, the black-haired one currently eyeing a few of the gems. He placed a hand on the kids’ shoulder, Jazz if he remembered the name correctly, preventing them from going forward before giving a quiet stern, ‘Don’t touch.’ as he did.

As the group moved to the next stall, the air suddenly grew thick with a sense of foreboding, making your hair stand up on its ends. The lively chatter of the marketplace began to dim in your ears despite it being as loud as ever, as your instincts screamed that something was wrong. Vaguely you could hear Alice and Clara asking Iruma what was wrong as you turned quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd, but could see nothing out of place—until a shadow flickered unnaturally against the light down one of the alleyways. You tensed as instinct overtook your muscles, your eyes narrowing as your mind processed the strange flicker of movement, eyes squinting to get a better look at them.

Balam felt a chill go through him, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, his hand tightening on Jazz’s shoulder in an automatic response to the potential threat that both you and Iruma sensed. The other misfits noticed this, feeling the change in their teacher’s demeanour, the cheerful atmosphere of the market feeling suddenly thick and tense as Balam also focused on the alleyway, eyes scanning over it… but found nothing more than shadows and the usual hustle and bustle from the crowd. 

He frowned beneath his mask stroking it thoughtfully, he had long since learned that you and Iruma had almost supernatural senses when it came to danger. An odd thing considering the human world was supposed to be a peaceful place, and yet he had never seen two creatures so attune to when there was danger about. Instead of trusting his eyes, he reached out with Buzzer, stretching it to see if there were any hostile intentions nearby -- and there! Exactly where your eyes were locked was a demon cloaked in mana -- and yet he couldn't see them.

His frown deepened and he started to reach into his mana to call forth his vines and capture this unknown demon, intent on interrogating him when before he could react, a figure cloaked in darkness surged from the shadows, their hands crackling with some form of black lightning. The students barely had time to gasp as the figure hurled a bolt of malevolent energy directly at them, aiming directly for little Iruma.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you made a split-second decision. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of the oncoming bolt, your arms outstretched and a shield forming to block what was surely deadly magic. The dark energy struck with brutal force, bursting the shield into a thousand pieces and knocking the breath from your lungs, sending you crashing to the ground. Pain seared through your body, a deep, burning agony that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Sensei!" one of the students screamed, Iruma you thought, his voice laced with panic as he rushed to your side. The others quickly followed, their faces pale, eyes wide and bodies shaking with fear.

You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on your students, reassure them that you were alright. But no words came out as blood seeped from a wound that cut deep into your side, staining your clothes and pooling beneath you on the cobblestones.

Balam’s face was a mix of horror and rage, the sight of his student in danger causing his normally controlled nature to flare into a protective rage. His eyes zeroed in on the figure that had attacked, his fist clenching tightly at his side as he stepped forward to rush the mysterious figure. At least, he would’ve, if not for what you did.

He saw you throw yourself in front of the attack, watched as you took the hit but collapsed to the ground in obvious pain, and his heart clenched, a sense of absolute terror crashing through him as the sweet scent of your blood reached his nose. He took an involuntary gulp at the smell before shaking his head, eyes blazing with fury as he took off his mask to bare his fangs at their attacker.

 The marketplace had erupted into chaos, demons scattering in every direction as the Balam snapped his teeth in a warning before giant vines erupted from the ground, giving the assailant no chance to escape. With a speed that belied his massive size, Balam launched himself at the enemy, his large talons crashing into them with the force of a landslide. The dark figure barely had time to react before they were attacked themselves by the enraged gargoyle. It was only the knowledge that you lay there, bleeding out and potentially poisoned, that kept Balam's hand from straight out killing the other demon.

He turned back to the human, dread gripping his heart as he saw them lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by their terrified students.

Balam rushed to your side, his heart pounding as he knelt beside you. "Stay with me," he urged, his voice breaking as he reached out to gently touch your face. Your eyes were half-closed and glazing over, your breathing shallow and laboured and getting slower by the minute. The wound on your side continued to bleed, whatever spell had been cast left a lingering taint that resisted the low-level healing.

"We're trying," Elizabetta sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at Balam with a mixture of helplessness and fear. "But it's not enough... we don't know how to do more..."

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... 

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... With a frustrated snarl, he placed his hand over yours, channelling his own mana into you, trying to bolster your failing strength, as he muttered healing spell after healing spell. But as the seconds ticked by, it was becoming increasingly clear that it might not be enough.

"You're going to be fine," Balam said, though doubt gnawed at him, threatening to turn his words into a hollow promise. "I won't let you go."

The human's hand reached up, trembling, to brush against Balam’s pale skin. They managed a weak smile, though it was strained, their eyes filled with pain. "Take care... of Iruma," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"No," Balam growled, his voice trembling as he leaned closer, his protective nature overwhelming him. "You're not leaving him. You're not leaving me."

Your eyes fluttered closed, their breath growing shallower by the second. The students huddled around them, their panic growing larger, a profound sense of loss growing in them as they watched their teacher fade before their eyes.

Balam's heart twisted in his chest at your words. With an anguished cry, he pressed his hand to your chest, willing you to live, to hang on. But despite his desperate efforts, your breathing slowed, your skin growing colder and colder...becoming as chilled as white snow.

Tears streamed down the gargoyle's face, mingling with the sweat that clung to his skin. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't. The thought was unbearable, and for the first time in years, fear clawed at his heart. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he sobbed over your body.

Gritting his teeth together he snapped at the students to stand back. Laying your body out he tore his gloves off, revealing the scaled skin and sharp nails underneath. He tore the top of your shirt open, revealing your bra and skin underneath.

Carefully he dragged his claw in a careful sketch over your chest, drawing sigil after sigil that he could remember from the depths of his mind. Once his drawing was complete, he placed a barrier around the students, ensuring that they couldn't get too close or be harmed by what he was about to do. Ignoring the student's shouts as they banged on the barrier walls, he turned back to you.

Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, Balam placed both hands over the symbols, his runes glowing with an intensity that bathed your body in light, as the last dredges of his mana started flowing. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his energy on healing, willing the wound to close, the foreign magic to leave your body and let you live. The power surged through him and immediately his mouth started moving, chanting out the words to an old spell he had seen in a scroll during one of his many research hauls. The energy flowed into you, knitting your wound with agonizing slowness, but closing regardless.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but the sound of Balam's ragged voice and the faint crackling of energy. Balam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched for any sign of life. His hands trembled as he continued to pour every ounce of his power into the healing spell, ignoring the exhaustion that gnawed at his very being. 'Come on,' he thought, 'Come back to us.'

The world trembled with a sense of anticipation, the air charged with the hope and fear that radiated from everyone. Yet despite Balam's best efforts, despite the raw amount of power that he was pushing into your body… nothing happened. There was no change, no sign of life... nothing.

The spell he had cast was just as hopeless as any other. For all his power and knowledge, for all his raw talent, there was nothing he could do. The realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. No! It wasn't meant to end like this! He wouldn't allow it! He couldn't! This… This wasn’t the end. It simply just could not be!

So he poured even more into the casting, pushing himself to his limits and beyond. His face twisted with desperation and panic, and his body trembling from the sheer effort. But… it was no more helpful than before. Your body… your body was… dead.

Slowly the light of the spell died, and Balam pulled back, before collapsing over your body sobs racking his own. The students held their breath, hope and fear battling in their eyes, as the barrier flickered before fading, drained of the last remnants of Balam's mana. He had nothing left to give in his struggle to keep you alive. The misfits could only watch in stunned silence, their own eyes widening with terror and horror. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of Balam's sobs, his shoulders shaking as he clutched your body to him tightly, tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

Iruma let out a loud wail as he raced to be by your side, his small body burrowing itself in between Balam and you. He clutched the remnants of your ripped shirt and buried his face into your chest, desperate to hear any signs of life, from the faintest pulse to a faulty breath. Instead, only silence greeted him.

"No…" Alice whispered, voice cracking with grief and disbelief. Clara let out a small whimper, burying their face in Alice's shoulder, while several clutched each other in an attempt to find comfort among the turmoil.

Balam's tears fell onto your face, his grief and despair overwhelming him. He felt so lost, so helpless, and so incredibly guilty. He should have sensed the danger, should have been able to protect you, should have... should have done something, anything! But instead… you lay dead in his arms. He gently stroked your cheek, his touch soft and desperate, as if trying to bring you back to life with his touch alone. "Please," he begged, his voice rough and broken, "Please come back...I" 'never got to say I loved you.'

The silence was deafening. The students stood in an almost numb state of shock and grief, their eyes fixed on your lifeless body. Iruma continued to cling to you, his small frame shaking with sobs as he tried to find a breath, to feel a flutter of a heartbeat.

Iruma continued sobbing into your chest, his small body shuddering with each strangled gasp of air. He just couldn’t quite accept that you were… gone. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were too strong, too vital, too alive to just die like this! It wasn't right!

The tears continued to slide down Balam's face, a torrent of grief and despair. If only he had seen the attack… if only he'd been faster, if only he'd been able to stop it! Guilt and rage tore at his heart, but Iruma's wails of despair slowly brought his mind back to the situation at hand beyond only you. You were gone and there was nothing more he could do. Gently he grabbed Iruma and tried to take him away from your body.

The boy flailed, turning to strike at Balam and fighting to leave. Shouts of how you weren't dead, and how he wasn't leaving you leaving the tiny boy.

Finally forcing Iruma away from your cold body, the boy curled up in Balam's arms clutching onto his shirt for dear life as he was overrun with sobs. Balam's arms tightened securely around the child, making sure to keep him safe from the view of your body and from the view of others.

The tiny boy seemed even smaller than usual to Balam, now that he was the last human in the Netherworld.

The other students hovered nearby, their eyes rimmed with red from their own tears. They were shaken and uncertain, their voices quiet as they tried to come to terms with what had happened. Some even looked away, unable to bear the sight of you lying lifeless on the ground.

Balam's heart clenched tightly at the sight of Iruma's struggle. He held the tiny boy tightly, trying to offer what comfort he could despite the heavy weight of his own grief settling over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "But I'll be here for you now."

Balam would be damned if he failed to succeed in fulfilling your last words.

Alternate Ending

For a moment, the world held its breath. The students watched with bated breath, hope and fear warring in their eyes, as the barrier flicked before fading from the lack of oncoming mana from Balam. He had no more left to give in his attempts to keep you alive.

Then, your eyes fluttered open, weak but alive. You looked up at Balam confusion in your gaze.

"You're okay," Iruma whispered, tears streaming down his face as he rushed to knee beside you. "You're okay..."

Balam let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, careful not to hurt you further. "Don't you ever do that again," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You chuckled weakly, though the sound was strained. Your hand rested against Balam's chest, feeling the fast but steady, reassuring pulse of his heart beneath his shirt. "No promises," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. But the warmth in your eyes said everything, as you turned to cuddle closer into him.

Balam held you close, the students gathering around the both of you, all of them shaking from the relief flooding their bodies as adrenaline left. A cold breeze flew by and you shivered, as it swept across your bared chest. Confusion swirled through your hazy mind as you tried to figure out why it felt wrong.

Opening your eyes again when you felt you had enough strength to do so, you glanced down to see the bare swell of your breasts and the lace of your bra showing through a shredded top. You blinked once, twice, and then once again before it finally clicked.

"Balam...."You started and he hummed in response. "Why is my shirt ripped, did the spell do this?"

He froze at the question, his own eyes glancing down to see your exposed chest, the exposure that he had caused. His face broke out into a fierce blush before he quickly told Clara to summon a blanket and wrap you in it, being sure to cover you up to your neck. Even then the blush remained as he hefted you up into his arms. Clearing his throat to try and hide his embarrassment, he turned to the students and declared they were leaving.

Luckily they had picked the town not too far away from Babyls.

Unluckily, he now had to deal with Sullivan and Opera about almost letting one of their beloved people die. He could already tell this meeting would not end well for him. 'Better him than you at least' he thought as he shifted his arms to hold you more securely.

[storyofmychoices]

A Late Night Picnic

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC) With: Rayden (M!OC), Lydo (M!OC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Word Count: ~ 1,400 Rating/Warnings: Mostly General with hints of Teen

Synopsis: Mal surprises Daenarya with a late night picnic, but it doesn't go as planned.

This takes place in my Blades 1 timeline with my original (pre-canon) Orphanage

"Sweet dreams." Daenarya leaned over, pressing a kiss on Lydo's forehead as she pulled his blanket a little higher. She turned to Rayden, brushing back a strand of his dark hair. "Sleep well, sweet boy," she whispered, kissing his forehead as well. So much had changed, and so much would still change, but she couldn't imagine life without her sons. 

Her muscles tensed slightly at the sound of the door creaking as she closed it behind her. She frowned at the hinges. Mal was supposed to fix that. She didn't have time to let her thoughts linger long before she was pulled forward.

"What the—" 

"Shhh—" Mal winked as he guided her up the stairs. Hand in hand, the pair moved swiftly toward the roof. 

The rooftop door swung open with a bang, a harsh contrast to the care with which Daeanrya took, shutting the boys' door. 

"Mal," she hissed, her gaze narrowing on him. 

"No one heard that." He shrugged off her concern. 

Her brow arched as she listened carefully from where they had come. Maybe he was right... this time. 

"You still have to fix the squeaky hinge on the boys' door."

"Tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and..."

"Fine, fine," Mal relented, his hands settling on her waist. "It will be fixed tomorrow. Now, can we enjoy my little surprise?"

As her attention shifted to where he gestured, she was greeted by a cozy space. A soft, red blanket adorned with plush pillows was spread out on the rooftop. Lanterns and candles were carefully scattered around, casting a gentle, intimate glow over the scene. A wooden tray lay on the edge, filled with sliced cheeses, meets, and fruits. A bottle of wine and a set of glasses sat beside it. "Mal! This is beautiful!"

His arms wrapped around her from behind as he kissed her shoulder, guiding her toward the blanket. 

Her step was hesitant at first. "What if Iliana needs us? We can't hear her cry from here?" 

His voice was a warm breath against her cool skin. "Loola is watching her and knows where we are."

"How'd you manage that," Daenarya laughed softly.

A smirk pulled on his lips. "She said anything to get away from a nursing Threep." 

"I can see that. Iliana will be no trouble at all comparatively. Good for her, Loola deserves a night off."

"Not quite—" A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Threep and his Kindle of bat-kittens followed her here. But I told him the nursery was not for him, so he's in the spare room."

"Oh, boy! Wait until Rayden finds out in the morning!" 

"That can wait until tomorrow." Mal ushered her on the blanket, wrapping her in his arms. "Now, can we just enjoy our moment?"

Daenarya leaned back into his embrace, her eyes fluttering closed, relaxing into him. "What are we celebrating?" She hummed softly.

"You—" His lips brushed over the skin on the crook of her neck. "Me—" He kissed the tender spot on her neck behind her ear, savoring the soft moan that slipped through her lips. He continued, peppering her neck with increasingly long kisses between each reason: "Us. Our daughter. Our sons. All of this."

She turned to face him, her hand caressing his jaw as her lips teased his. "I love us." Her kiss was soft at first but quickly grew with passion. It wasn't often they had moments alone, especially now with the baby, and she was ready to take advantage of it.

"Can I entice you to some wine?" Mal breathed when they parted to catch their breath. "or some snacks?"

Her eyes darkened with lust as her gaze raked over him. Her head shook to the sides, and her fingers tangled in his long, dark hair. "You are the only thing I want to taste right now." 

"Thank the gods because I wasn't really offering." 

Her lips crashed against his as she pushed him back against the blanket, straddling his hips. 

A shadow flickered in the corner of her eye, capturing her attention.

"Hello?" Called a little voice. 

"Who's there?" The second voice held a little more confident. 

Daenarya sighed, sliding quickly off of Mal. It was hard to be disappointed when she saw them come into the light. Those two boys brought so much joy to their world. 

"It's just us," she called.

"Mama?" Rayden's little voice rose with excitement, running toward her with a little wooden sword dangling in his hand.

Mal grumbled slightly, readjusting himself as he sat up. "What are you boys doing out here so late at night?"

"I heard a noise before," Lydo answered. His eyes surveyed the scene before him. "I thought there was trouble."

"So you went toward the sound you thought might be danger?" Daenarya questioned with alarm.

"We had to," Lydo started, sheathing his not wooden, very real dagger. 

The glint of the knife caught Daenarya's eye; she frowned at Mal. It wasn't that she didn't think he could handle it; she just didn't want him to have to. 

"We have to protect her," Rayden offered, his eyes sparkling with the flickers of the candles. "That's what big brothers do. I want to show Iliana I can be a good big brother like Lydo is to me."

"Oh, my sweet boy," a tender smile drew across Daenarya's face as she held him. "You already are—" her attention flickered to Lydo, "—you both are. You watch over her. You tell her stories. You make her smile and laugh! You have nothing to prove." She rubbed her nose against his before kissing his forehead. "Why don't you let Mal and I be the ones to protect the three of you for a while. You focus on being kids. How does that sound?"

Rayden nodded readily. Lydo was more hesitant to agree. He knew too well the dangers of the world they lived in from his time in the Thieves Guild. 

"For me," Daenarya pleaded, offering him her hand. "Just for a little while."

He accepted her hand, relishing the warmth of her touch. There were nights he woke up, afraid it was all a dream, but it never was. "Okay."

"That's my boy," Mal clapped him on his shoulder. "We're very proud of you both and I'm sure Iliana would agree if she could."

"Thank you." A smile pulled on Lydo's features as he wrapped his arms around Mal. As he relaxed, letting the notion of any danger disappear, he looked around at the setting, noticing it all for the first time. His eyes widened. "Rayden, uh, we should go... get back to bed."

"I'm not sleepy anymore," Rayden offered through a soft yawn. "Besides they have grapes. I love grapes!"

"I know you do, why don't we share some?" Daenarya suggested.

"I'll go pick out a good bunch." 

"Rayden!" Lydo scolded lightly, but his younger brother just popped a grape in his mouth, continuing with his mission to find the best bunch.

"It's okay. You can stay. A picnic of four would be even better," Mal suggested. 

"Are you sure? We don't mean to interrupt," Lydo worried. 

Mal surveyed the scene. His romantic moonlit picnic had been taken over by their sons. Instead of feeding Daenarya grapes, she and Rayden were feeding each other, making faces and laughing beside him. His gaze shifted to Lydo, the older of the two boys, yet not even ten and he'd seen the weight of the world. His lip pulled in the corner. "I'm sure. I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, show me that dagger, again. I'll show you a new trick."

Lydo smiled freely as he held out his dagger, twirling it with a flourish as he handed it proudly to Mal. 

Daenarya watched in awe. Lydo might not be biologically theirs, but he was undoubtedly Mal's son in every way. 

As the night drifted on, the laughter and joyful sounds of their voices quieted, as Rayden and Lydo fell asleep despite their best efforts. Their parents lifted them into their arms, readying to return them to the safety of their beds.

"Thanks for the romantic picnic," Daenarya brushed a kiss on Mal's cheek.

His brow arched, "so much for the romantic part." 

"I don't know—" Her lips pressed together into a playful smirk, turning toward the door. "The night's still young."

Mal's eyes widened as a mischievous grin filled his face. He followed Daenarya closely behind, with Lydo in his arms, hoping to pick up where they left off sooner than later.

I HC that although they truly planned to get back to what they were doing, they end up falling asleep together first. Even though they're them, they're still new parents to a baby and so they're more tired than they realize.

I just love these four and I hope you enjoyed this little story too!

[bvbygrl-writes]

Professor!Nev finding his fav student skinny dipping in the black lake after hours, get off to them but gets caught and instead of him getting embrassed he starts mocking them and calling them dirty names for being so exposed and perverted👀

-🦡

SORRY HAD TO GET MY LATE NIGHT WORKOUT IN

but I'm so excited to write this! Okok I hope this is good because I'm a little rusty. This ended up being way longer than I expected.

Word Count: 740

Warnings: student / teacher relationship, voyeurism, drinking, degradation

18+ MINORS / BLANK ACCOUNTS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Although Neville could be a bit nutty at time, he knew he wasn't imagining it. The faint sound of water splashing along with the sounds of humming were carried along in the warm air of the late summer night. His eyes flickered to the wall, staring at the time, his brain stuttering a bit at the arms of the clock. 1:30AM.

Now, Neville wasn't a stickler for the rules. Not as a student at Hogwarts nor now as his time as a professor. However, if a student were to drown in the lake with him knowing that they were out there and he didn't do anything? He'd forever have to live with the guilt on his conscious and mind.

Lighting the candle in his handheld lantern, he began to walk towards the sounds, muttering something under his breath about how he'd rather be in bed sound asleep. As he grew closer to the Blake Lake, the blurry shadows soon began to form a familiar shape. His eyes widened as he took cover by a tree, peering behind it. On the shore of the lake laid an empty bottle of fire whiskey. Typical for students rowdy and excited for the nearing summer break. However, what was most shocking was who was in that lake and the state they were in (no doubt due to the fire whiskey).

(Y/n) was a student who he was quite familiar with. In fact, she was by far his brightest and most favorite of students. She excelled in every aspect of Herbology and had told him once she was gone this year, she'd love to work doing something with plants. But, as his eyes trailed over her body, (s/c) skin glistening with water droplets in the moonlight, plants were the furthest thing from his mind.

Up until this point, their connection to one another had been purely educational. He was her Herbology teacher and she was simply his student. The late night teas they had in the greenhouse together, the rare times he'd catch her out of bed and would join her in the kitchen for a late night snack, the after school sessions where he'd answer any questions she had about the lesson that day, all professional and appropriate.

But, he could barely control his hand as it reached to unbuckle his belt. His mind was in a trance as he shifted his pants down, beginning to use his precum to jerk at his cock. And his eyes? Oh his eyes were completely locked on her.

He had never seen her move so freely, she was always quite a reserved and controlled girl. Nothing but smiles and soft giggles all around. But in her drunken state, her body twirled and swayed in a sensual and yet untrained way. His hand sped up around his cock as she turned in his direction, the sight of her hardened nipples sending an electrifying jolt down the back of his spin.

His eyes made their way down every nook and cranny of her body, focusing in on her pussy. He thought about how thrilling it'd be to stand behind her, delicately stroking and playing with her clit before absolutely demolishing her.

"Professor?" the delicate sound of her voice drew him from his thoughts, his hand slowly it's movements but not completely stopping.

"Why are you so shocked? You're the one out here prancing and splashing around in the lake like a drunken whore." he said, causing her to gasp. A smirk grew on his face as he noticed where her (e/c) eyes were drawn to. They followed every stroke and motion of his hand, her lips subtly parted. "You filthy little minx, out here naked. Who knew you were such a whore, hm? You couldn't even have the decency to keep your knickers on?" he moaned, continuing to stroke his cock. "If I had half the mind, I'd drag you out of there and take you to the headmaster's office right now and I wouldn't even think of handing you your clothes back before I did it. No, I'd keep you just as you are now, bare and drunken."

(Y/n) gulped at his words, the fire whiskey slowly starting to lose it's freeing effect on her. Her eyes connected with his, not so surprised to find he was already looking at her. "And the other half, professor?"

"I'd deal with you my damn self."

[alpydk]

A Prayer for Gale

A little blurb (500+ words) that I felt like writing (couldn't find a witty retort @auroraesmeraldarose) - I don't know why but my Tav's pray for Gale. I've never thought about it before. I'm not religious, Nana hates the gods, and yet this seems...instinctual, like why wouldn't you do anything you could to save him and protect him? Anyway, made me emotional... So have a blurb.

Tav sat under the gnarled oak as the sun rose over what was left of Reithwin Town. The campsite lay not far from his location, the tents quiet as their inhabitants slept off the exhaustion of the previous night. The shadow curse had been lifted and a tentative breeze made its way between torn banners. A gentle flicker of the lantern lights that had been dimmed for so long brought a life back to the world around him. He clenched his hands in front of him, dirt and dried blood still present from the battle the night before, one that would scar not only his body, but his mind for years to come.  

“I thank you for one more moment where he is at my side. He is so pure, a star in the blackened night sky and one I hope to see shine all the brighter.”

The words were whispered, an anxiousness to say them out loud and yet not be heard by his travelling companions. Tav was no cleric, no paladin following the oath of the gods; no, he was just someone grateful to have found love. He would fight with swords and magic, would try to persuade even the most ruthless of enemies to give up their ways, but he also knew that sometimes fate was out of his control. Life could be snuffed out in an instance, a candle flame put out without hesitation, his love taken from him without mercy. And so, to prevent this, he would do anything, even if that meant praying.

“I ask for his hope, that it does not falter. That he finds his way through the darkness, and he returns home, his heart free to live again. I pray he finds happiness, that poetry flows from his parted lips once more, that he knows what it is to love without restraint...”

Tav thought of their night together, of the orb stabilised, but its markings a constant reminder of the sword that hung by a thread. He did not want to think of the battles ahead as the words spilled out, of the tadpole that devoured him, of what his love had spoken of not so long before they’d tried to leap from the precipice: a goddess’ request and one ultimate penance. Should that unfortunate time come, they would go together; that much Tav had decided, loneliness no longer the burden either of them should have to carry. He sighed, glancing up at the heavens, a deep longing to be heard, if only for what he was to say last.  

“Please protect him from what is to come. Keep him safe from harm, and should the worst come to pass, should our stars be blotted out by darkened fortunes, guide his soul to astral seas where he can finally find peace.”

There was no knowing if any of the gods heard his words that day, or if they would hear them on any of the other mornings to follow. But Tav never stopped praying for Gale. The hope that those words would mean something one day, even if it was just to be guidance over astral seas.

[spawnofdeath]

Nighttime Encounter

(The first chapter in the "King Scott and the Codfather" collection)

Read on AO3

In which King Scott meets a demon.

Was that movement in the river, over by the bridge? It might have just been the shadow of a tree, cast onto the water by his lantern, but Scott wasn't sure.

It had looked big, though. Surely nothing that big lived here in the river.

It had to have been a shadow. He walked on.

Setting foot onto the bridge, however, this time he heard the movement in the water. Something was breaking the surface. He swung the lantern around quickly to see it, and - Oh Gods, was he in trouble? Was he in danger? He had heard Count fWhip talk about the creature, what it was doing to him, what it was capable of. He had not himself encountered it before.

The demon was half in, half out of the water, propping itself up on its forearms on the edge of the bridge and staring up at him with large, round eyes. They reflected the light of his lantern like mirrors, making it impossible to tell their colour. Scott looked back at the creature, and, since it wasn't currently making any move to harm him, found he was feeling strangely brave. And so, instead of running, he took a moment to have a good look at its appearance.

The demon's upper body looked like most bipedal races', at least in its broad shape. Slender and wiry, with long arms and long, webbed fingers. It had fins along the outside of its forearms, and where an elf's ears would be, or maybe they were its ears, just shaped like fins.

It had a fin-like head crest, parting its hair in the middle. It had hair, which Scott found quite unusual for something so much like a fish, but then, on second thought, the Ocean Queen had hair as well.

The demon had a sort of mohawk, just a line of blond or light brown hair on either side of the fin-crest, joint in front of it, running down the back of its head, stuck down flat to its skin by the water. Scott couldn't tell how long it was.

The demon's face, by virtue of the point formed by its hair, looked almost heart-shaped, if somewhat narrower, and was quite flat, with no visible nose, but a large, thin-lipped mouth, like a slit cut into its skin, running almost from one fin-ear to the other.

And then it opened that wide mouth, revealing in it row upon row of needle-sharp teeth, and spoke.

"What's a little elf doing out all on his own at night?"

Its voice wasn't entirely what Scott had expected, although he wasn't quite sure what he had expected. It sounded fitting though, in a way, and surprisingly not too unpleasant. Maybe that was what he had expected, actually. Something less pleasant. He looked at the demon. The demon grinned at him.

"Walking home", Scott replied, against his better judgement telling him to not engage at all. "You don't scare me."

He finally turned away with that, and quickly resumed walking. Behind him came more noises of disturbed water, and then he heard the demon's voice again.

"I never did say I was trying to."

It was following him. No. Following meant coming behind, but the demon was actually right next to him, keeping pace. He turned to shine the lantern at it again. It was moving through the air like it was swimming, like he was walking along the bottom of a river, or the ocean. It had a long fish tail that it was using to propel itself, along with its long-toed webbed feet. It was actually quite fascinating to watch, and reminded Scott of how the Ocean Queen had similarly long, webbed feet she also used to swim, albeit only through the water, not through the air like the demon was doing.

"What's a demon doing out all on his own at night then?", Scott returned the initial question. "If it's not trying to scare unwitting travellers."

The demon grinned again. It was swim-flying on its side now, the front of its body turned entirely towards Scott. It seemed decidedly non-hostile, Scott thought. It seemed entirely in a mood for conversation, and not at all in a mood to cause him trouble.

"Oh, I'm just having a swim", it said. "Spreading some slime, greeting the cod."

"There's mostly salmon in these rivers, I think", Scott told it.

The demon's grin became even wider.

"Oh, but I am changing that, little elf. I am changing that."

Ah, Scott thought, and wondered again if he might be in trouble, if he should try to run away. But then, his comment didn't actually seem to have upset the creature. How often did you get the chance to have a civil conversation with a demon?

"I don't think we've actually met before, have we?", he asked after a short pause.

"Not that I'd remember, little elf", the demon replied.

Okay. Still going well. Although...

"I have a name, you know."

And a title, but it was unlikely the demon would care about that. But maybe he could get it to stop calling him 'little elf'.

"It's Scott."

"Well, little elf named Scott-"

Hm. Not quite.

"How very nice of you to introduce yourself. Suppose I ought to return the favour. I am known as the Codfather."

Alright. At least he hadn't managed to annoy it yet. Him, maybe? Probably. It didn't feel quite right to call someone he was having such a civil conversation with 'creature' and 'it' without having been told to. Come to think of it, he had said 'his' earlier, hadn't he? The demon hadn't argued with that. And the title he'd given certainly implied male pronouns, too. The Codfather. It was certainly an interesting title.

"What sees you walking home?", the Codfather asked. "Are your wings tired? Or were you hoping for an interesting encounter such as this?"

He had turned onto his back now, and crossed his arms behind his head. He was floating at eye level, and slightly ahead of Scott, meaning Scott didn't have to turn his head all the way sideways anymore to look at him.

How considerate.

He still found it very strange to see someone swimming beside him at head height, while he was walking on dry land. What an odd way of flying.

Now that the path was drawing near the outskirts of the woods, the moonlight was coming through the thinning canopy more brightly, and Scott could see the demon better than before. His body wasn't entirely covered in scales, his chest and stomach, as well as the insides of his arms and legs, looked to be skin, rather pale, much like Scott's own.

The scales certainly covered the outsides of his limbs though, and probably his whole backside, as well as the underside of his tail. Their colour was hard to tell, some kind of muddy greenish brown, lighter in some places, darker in others. Certainly cod-coloured. The title of "Codfather" was fairly accurate to his appearance at least.

The scales wrapped around to the front of the demon's torso over the shoulders and around the hips, and in thin, dark lines along his collarbones and just under his pectorals, giving some rather striking definition to his physique.

The Codfather laughed, a sound not unlike that of gurgling water.

"Don't think I can't see you staring at me, little elf."

Scott really hoped the blood rushing to his face wasn't noticeable in the dark. Only that the demon's eyes were clearly made for low light vision. That realisation made him blush even more.

In a split second, and with a force that made him stumble, the demon was right in his face, clawed finger underneath his chin, tipping his head upwards, large eyes an inch or so away from his own. He could see their colour now, without such direct light reflecting in them, they were a greyish muddy brown with specks of green, like murky swamp water.

He quickly took a step backwards, and at once, his bravery returned.

"You're pretty forward there, aren't you? At least buy me dinner before trying to get a kiss."

Again the Codfather laughed, although this time, Scott thought it almost sounded a little surprised.

"What a bold little creature you are, little elf Scott. Do tell me, is flirting your go-to reaction to feeling you're in trouble, or am I special?"

Well, that was a question Scott had no clue how to answer. And 'feeling you're in trouble'? Did that mean he was in trouble? Or that he wasn't? He stayed silent, thinking.

"Well, rest assured, little elf-" the Codfather tapped Scott's nose with a sharp claw- "I have no intention of harming you. This was but a chance encounter, and I must admit, you have been rather interesting to talk to. I have other matters to attend to, but have no doubt you will be seeing me again."

For the first time during the entire interaction, he actually landed to stand on the ground, and he was tall, Scott realized. He was much taller than Scott himself. Shorter than the Ocean Queen, but certainly well over seven feet. He was towering over Scott.

Scott found himself having to resist the urge to take another step backwards.

The demon put a hand to his chest and took a deep bow, all the while maintaining eye contact. The gesture seemed somewhat mocking, and rather prominently showed the long, pointed spines protruding from his dorsal fin.

"King Scott of Rivendell", he said with a wide grin, "it has been a pleasure, and I trust it will be next time."

Still bowed, and in a movement too quick for Scott to react to, the Codfather grabbed Scott's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Scott stared, somewhat dumbfounded, and once again blushing, as the demon drew himself back up to his full height.

"I will be seeing you", he said, and it sounded halfway between a promise and a threat.

And then, as though nothing was easier, he leapt into the air and, with smooth, powerful movements of his legs and tail, appeared to swim vertically upwards into the night sky.

Scott craned his neck to look after him. It sure was a sight to behold. Silhouetted against the full moon, the demon waved at him. Scott couldn't help but wave back.

I will be seeing you.

When the Codfather was out of sight, somewhere over the tree tops, at last Scott's brain started working normally again. Why had the demon addressed him with his full title in saying goodbye? Certainly Scott hadn't told him all that. Had he known the whole time? Put two and two together when Scott had told him his name?

And how had he meant it? As a formality? Or as a threat? You can't hide who you really are from me? Was it something to be worried about? And the way he'd made so clear they'd meet again? Should he worry about that?

Somehow, Scott couldn't find it in him to be worried about that.

[teine-mallaichte]

a dadwc prompt for your Autumn Hawke: wait, that's mine. you fixed it?

happy writing!

-inquisimer

This was a strangely fun one to write. Some Autumn Hawke/Anders fluff. @dadrunkwriting

Autumn Hawke's footsteps echoed through the grand hallways of her Hightown estate, a blend of elegance and comfort that she had meticulously crafted over th elast few months. But despite the opulence surrounding her, and the coin she now had to her name, there were some things she simply could not let go of—like her favorite pair of boots, now hidden away in a dark corner of the mansion.

Those boots had seen her through countless adventures and battles. The leather was scuffed and worn, but they held memories that no new pair could ever replace. Unable to part with them, when the soles finally began to give way, she had reluctantly tucked them away, out of sight but never out of mind.

As Autumn moved through the house, she found herself drawn toward that dark corner more often than she cared to admit. Today was no different. She turned the corner and opened the small, ornate chest where she had hidden the boots, expecting the usual pang of nostalgia and sadness to wash over her.

But when she lifted the lid, her heart dropped. The chest was empty. Autumn stared at the vacant space where her beloved boots should have been, her mind racing. Panic seized her briefly—had someone mistaken them for rubbish and thrown them out? Had her mother finally followed through on her weeks of nagging to get rid of them?

She hurried down the hall, her heart pounding as she tried to remember if there had been any recent cleaning sprees that might have resulted in their loss.

As she rounded the corner to the living area, she nearly collided with Anders.

"What's got you in such a rush?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"My boots," Autumn replied, breathless. "The old ones… they're gone."

"Your boots?" he echoed. "The ones you hid away? Don't worry, no one's thrown them out."

Autumn's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

A mischievous smile tugged at Anders' lips. "Because I have them."

Relief washed over her, quickly replaced by confusion. "You have them? What do you mean?"

"Follow me," he said, taking her hand gently.

Autumn followed Anders through the winding hallways and down into the dimly lit passageways leading to Darktown. She couldn't suppress the rush of emotions swirling within her—relief that her boots weren't lost forever and curiosity about what Anders was up to.

As they reached Anders' small clinic, he pushed open the door, pausing before entering, "It was meant to be a suprise…"

He disappeared into the back room before reemerging and placing a pair of boots on a bench.

Autumns breath caught in her throat as she stepped closer, taking in the sight. The boots looked almost brand new—the soles were firmly attached, the scuffs and scratches had been meticulously polished out, and the leather had been treated to restore its suppleness.

"Anders," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You fixed them?"

He smiled, "I couldn't stand to see you so upset over them. Plus, I might have overheard a few conversations with your mother about 'those old boots'."

Autumn reached out, her fingers brushing over the smooth leather. She could hardly believe it—these were the same boots that had been on the brink of falling apart, now looking as good as new. She turned to Anders, tears of gratitude welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Anders stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her. "I have some idea," he murmured, "I know how much they mean to you, and I wanted to give you a bit of happiness."

Autumn pulled back slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes. The flickering light of the clinic's lanterns cast warm shadows across his face, highlighting the gentle sincerity in his gaze. "You're so sneaky," she said, laughing softly.

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled through his chest and into her. "It's one of my many talents," he teased.

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

It takes a village to raise a family part 13

Part 12 , next

This au is owned by @angelpuns, Aya belongs to me this is a fan work of the au! The au is really cool so go check them out!

Tw/cw: panic, fire, violence, vivid descriptions of gaining a concussion, fighting with intent to harm

I think that's all the warnings needed?

The village only had one soup kitchen, open from mid morning to an hour after sunset. Manned by one, great ino san. A small green furred yokai, well respected among his peers. The man had many customers, some annoying, some kind, some needing a good whack with a stick.

But every night he has one person, not a customer but a guard. As soon as he closes up and starts sweeping he hears it, hoof on wood knocking. He doesn't have to turn around to see who it was. "Aya"

"Aye boss." The goat yokai turns and faces away from the shop, looking amongst the dying lanterns on the two tables outside the shop.

He grabs a bowl and pours the leftover soba and sets it on the counter.

Aya glances at it once then twice before looking away from it. "I can't pay."

"Aya, eat. You work every night when I close up. It will waste anyway" he scolds before going back to sweeping.

She glances at it again before hesitating and then she grabs it, lifting it to her snout and drinking it, turning her head back.

Aya chews the noodles and sets it aside. "Thank you…it was very good.." she lets out a satisfied sigh as her head thumps against the wood.

"Oh please, it was seasoned completely wrong." Ino san rolls his eyes.

Aya shrugs and glances around slightly. "I think it was seasoned good.."

"Do you know what seasonings are?" He turns to look at her before sighing and walking to the back slightly.

Aya watches the shadows before flinching at the soft tok sound of a bowl on the counter.

Ino san looks at him. "Aya, watch me"

Aya turns her head away to watch the wooden fence. "Boss-"

"Aya" his tone switches to something stern. Aya tenses and slowly turns to look at him then at two bowls of water. "...."

"Watch" Ino San adds seasonings to the two bowls. "Watch the color"

Aya looks away. "Ahm supposed to be watchin-"

"Aya I want you to watch the color of the water" Ino San states, she turns back to watch.

Her ears slowly raise when the colors change two different colors. She couldn't tell what color they were, she just liked them.

"Try them" Ino San nudges them forward.

"can't p-"

"It's water I don't want you to pay" Ino San nudges them again.

Aya takes a sip of one and smiles, her tail wiggling slightly "i like tat one" she sets it down before trying the other. "Tis one tastes good too, like the soba ya gave me"

"See how different they taste? One is wrong and one is proper" Ino San smiles as Aya nods. Aya smiles "aye wish i could cook"

"Tell you what, you learn the difference between right and wrong tasting soba and I'll teach you how to make it, deal?" Ino San crosses his arms and smiles.

Aya lights up "really?...for real?...deal! Deal! No take backins!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, unless you burn the shop down" he lightly scolds.

Aya nods and smiles before standing guard, when Ino San finished the two went separate ways.

This was like clock work, as soon as Ino San closed she popped up, she never came during the day and never when there was a customer. On nights it was raining, on clear nights, snowy nights.

One night Ino San had his last customer leave when Aya comes running, stumbling down the pathway before running over. She slipped on some mud and hit the side of the shop with a loud thump and a shout as something definitely popped.

Ino San whips his head around "Aya!? Don't break the damn shop- what are you even-"

Aya barely dodged when a dog yokai slams his fist right where her head was, cracking the wood. Aya kicks his leg out from under him and she stands guard over the open doorway of the shop, tugging a rope and causing the wooden shutters to slam over the counter, concealing Ino San in.

Ino San grabs the stick from under the counter and runs out the door as Aya lunges at the dog yokai, the dog yokai stumbles into the table and knocks over a lantern, setting the dry summer grass on fire.

Ino San's eyes widen as he hits the fire with the stick, Aya tussling to the ground with the dog yokai. She let out a guttered growl as she slams the yokai's head to the ground. "You will NOT!"

Ino San rushes back into the shop to fetch water as two more yokai, a cat and a alligator rush Aya, the gator tumbling with her and rolling into the wooden fence.

Aya let's out a shout of pain as her hurt arm hits the wooden fence. She lifts her head only for it to be slammed back down by the Gator's claws.

She huffs and grunts as she pushes her palms against the grass, feeling the sun in her eyes as the hand squeezed her head. She felt like his hands could crush her skull.

She looks to the side and her eyes widen realizing it wasn't the sun but the entire yard on fire, the sun having had set already.

Her breathing quickens as she saw the look on Ino San's face, the fear…the panic. How the fire casted shadow across his face, the horrible mix of yellow light and green fur.

"B-bo-" she strained as she tries to talk, the force of her head being held to the boss making it hard to talk. She growls and swings, elbowing the gator in the face.

The gator winces and let's out a throated hiss before grabbing her head and slamming it against the ground, she swore she could feel her brain disconnect as the world spun. She slowly blinks once, twice. And then she became very aware of how the three yokai were gone, the soba shop on fire, the tables cooking to a nasty charcoal. She slowly sits up hearing ringing in her ears as hot tears bubbled up and the wave of pure guilt crashed over, swallowing her whole.

She slowly rose to her feet, looking around for the smaller yokai. "Boss!" She shouts as a crowd had gathered. She couldn't see who they were from the smoke and flames.

She looks around, listening to the crackling of the fire, her ears feeling singed as she backs away from the rising flames. Hot tears staining her already warm fur as she backs up. Her eyes scanning for green.

She looks at the shop and without hesitation she ran for it, stumbling on broken charred tables, wincing as the flames lap at her legs.

She grabs the doorframe to help herself slide into the shop, looking around as her eyes burn from the heat and brightness. "Boss!" She shouts, hearing the roaring of the fire, the crackling of it.

She. Starts overturning anything that wasn't already on fire, hearing cracking from above. Her ears drop as she looks up, quickly moving back as a support beam falls. She looks around and at the door, the haunting realization that she couldn't get back out.

So she did the only thing she thought was reasonable, she pulled the crate of seasonings to a corner under the counter Ino San prepared everything and curled up, laying her body over the seasonings. "I'm sorry..I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry.."

It was dawn before the fire went out, Ino San surveying the damage as the village guards usher the last stragglers away. He uses his stick to push around the broken wood, the air smelling of burnt wood and grass.

The devastation was immeasurable..but he would pick it back up and try again. This was his livelihood.

He lifts up broken bowls and pots. He looks over the burnt ingredients. Everything was burnt, everything was destroyed. He sighs heavily, not allowing himself to cry.

He closes his eyes and leans back, running his paw across his eyes before he hears a small whimper and the shift of bottles clinking together. He turns around to spot the young goat yokai, slowly lifting her head, her fur covered in black soot, his eyes red from the smoke. Her arms trembling as she pushed herself off the seasonings she had kept safe.

He stares at her, his eyes widening as he processes the sight in front of him. Aya looks at him tiredly before smiling weakly "I protected ta seasonins boss…"

Ino San slowly walks over, putting a hand to her fur and gently wipes away the soot around one eye. "Aya..that was completely reckless!" He scolds, he had every right to raise his stick to her but his gaze softens seeing her weak smile and how she holds back hiccups as tears fall down her face.

Aya slumps back over the seasonings "I tried so hard…I failed you"

Ino San sighs. "Get up Aya. We got cleaning to do."

Aya slowly looks at him with confusion before nodding. "Okay…" she didn't hesitate, this was her job.

"You did good protecting…but I did tell you if you burnt down my kitchen!" He points a finger at her. She stares before frowning "no learnin to cook?"

"Nope, you are grounded" he scolds and starts picking up the pieces of his shop. Aya stands up and with weak knees she starts picking up the heavier stuff. The morning was quiet, and the mess was plenty. But they could handle it.